Starlight & Promises (14 page)

The days wore on, and Christian treated Samantha as if their confrontation and her subsequent incarceration never occurred. She knew better than to refer to the incident and was more than willing to let it go. They engaged in no more arguments, and no further romantic encounters ensued. They maintained a polite but distinct distance, like opposite poles of a magnet.

Samantha fell into a routine, and life aboard ship gained a sameness. She spent the majority of her time with Jasper in the galley, learning to prepare such delicacies as jambalaya, crawfish stew, and a spicy concoction he called “jerked chicken.” She enjoyed his lessons and company and fast became quite the journeyman cook. They put into port often for fresh meat, produce, and water while traveling down the eastern shore of South America, though at most stops, the passengers and crew remained on board. And thus far, good weather and steady winds sped them along on calm seas.

Samantha soon developed a friendship with the young cockney cabin boy, Cullen O’Dare, and spent hours tutoring him in reading, writing, and arithmetic. An intelligent, engaging boy, he had a quick, gap-toothed smile in a gamin’s face topped with an unruly mop of black hair.

One sunny day she tried to talk Cullen into allowing her to cut his hair. He backed away while she stood on deck with a pair of scissors in her hand. “No ye don’t!” he said with a scowl and plowed a hand through the thick strands, his unconscious action reminiscent of an exasperated Christian. The boy’s blue eyes snapped. He jutted out his jaw. “I ain’t stupid like Samson. No Delilah’s goin’ ta cut
my
‘air!”

He found Samantha later and apologized with a lopsided grin. The remainder of the day he spent with Christian, whom he worshipped and imitated with uncanny accuracy. Cullen told Samantha, “Someday, if’n I study ‘ard an’ learn ‘nough, I’m goin’ ta be a scientist, just like Chris.”

Samantha’s balmy family surprised her by how well they adjusted to the voyage. Each found his or her own niche among the crew and contributed useful labor.

Gilly assumed Samantha’s mending chores and became an expert at patching up sail. The afternoons she reserved for Alan Smith, learning about inventory and accounting. She improved her skill with numbers, and Alan praised her efforts at every turn. A romance seemed to be developing. They often appeared on deck in the evening, Gilly standing at the railing with Alan’s arm around her waist, their heads close together.

Their obvious attraction tugged at Samantha’s heart and reminded her of Christian’s kiss. Her gaze sought him out wherever he was on deck. Every once in a while, she found him watching her, but often far away, she was unable to discern the expression in his eyes.

Chloe—delicate, spoiled, demanding Chloe—washed laundry. ‘Twas a freak of nature to see her with her arms in hot, soapy seawater up to the elbows. Nonetheless, Samantha suspected her cousin found the work worth the effort when Garrett massaged fragrant lotion he had purchased in Charleston into her hands each evening. During the nightly ritual, Chloe sighed and fluttered her blond lashes while Garrett enthralled her with seductive smiles. Christian kept a close eye on the two.

One evening when Garrett finished applying lotion to Chloe’s hands, he moved on to her neck. Soon afterward, Christian called Garrett aside for a private talk. Samantha happened to be close by and eavesdropped on the ensuing argument, audible only to her and the two men. From her hidden position, she had a good view of them.

“You cannot be planning what I know you’re planning,” Christian said.

Garrett placed his hand over his heart. “Chris, you wound me!
She
has been flirting with me.”

“She’s eighteen and a maid of gentle breeding. In English society, females learn to flirt while still in their cradles. They have no idea of where it leads. Regardless, that’s no excuse. Every female between the ages of ten and eighty, even the blind ones, flirts with you. Do you have to fuck them all?”

Fuck?
Samantha pursed her lips. She was unfamiliar with the word, though she had no need of a crystal ball to divine its meaning.

Garrett’s features settled into an affronted expression. “I resent that implication. Though I appreciate the flattering allusion to my manhood, it would be physically impossible, not to mention morally reprehensible, for me to do so.”

Christian snorted. “Since when have you and morality had more than a nodding acquaintance? I’m cautioning you, Garrett, if you compromise Chloe, you’ll marry her.”

“M-m-marry?” The word bubbled up from Garrett’s throat the same way
manure
would have had he stepped into an odorous pile whilst in his best boots.

“Marry.” Christian’s voice was firm, his eyes steely. “And I’ll walk behind you with a pistol in your kidneys to ensure you carry out your obligation. Do we understand each other?”

Garrett swallowed hard and nodded. Then he smiled. “Since you mentioned the ‘M’ word, old man, isn’t it time you considered settling down? How about Sam? You two seem to suit quite nicely.”

Samantha clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the squeak. Her marry Christian? What an appalling notion!

“Bite your tongue,” Christian growled and marched away from Garrett.

After the men’s discussion, Chloe, much to her apparent dismay, received only hand massages.

When the ship rocked at anchor, Aunt Delia held decorum classes on deck after supper. Before long, the sailors were dancing like drawing-room dandies to hornpipe music and drinking tea out of battered pewter cups with their pinkies sticking out to the side. Samantha asked Delia why she deemed it important for sailors to learn the fundamentals of society protocol.

“A generous dose of civility and manners never hurt anyone,” Delia answered with an aggrieved sniff.

Samantha saw the most astonishing transformation in Pettibone. He worked a sailor’s day, dressed in clothes borrowed from some accommodating soul, coiling rope, hauling on lines, winching up anchor, standing watches, and taking a turn at the wheel. She marveled at the old man’s strength and stamina. His stuffiness and haughty manner fled and left a jovial, hardworking man in its place. He looked and acted years younger, tanning in the sun and hardening from the work. Samantha caught a glimpse of the powerful young man he must have been centuries ago.

Christian and Garrett also worked as common sailors, carrying out whatever tasks the captain required and always at hand when the crew needed a strong arm or back. Christian spent much of his time spelling the captain at the wheel, where the scientist showed a surprising expertise and familiarity with sailing ships.

Christian had brought along a trunk filled with basketballs. He nailed empty bushel baskets to two facing masts, and when the ship sat at anchor or sped smoothly along by steam power, he shot baskets, often accompanied by Garrett and Cullen.

On a still, muggy evening while anchored off the coast of South America, Christian dug out a basketball and taught the game to the crew.

Rowdiness ensued with a plentitude of what Christian called “flagrant or intentional fouls.” Everyone not actively engaged in the game stood along the sidelines to keep the ball from disappearing overboard. Narcissus, who now had the run of the ship and the affection of the sailors, chased the ball whenever it wandered out of bounds. Though unable to pick up and retrieve the large object, he kicked it like a football, which it was, and batted it with his tail, out of his pursuers’ hands, until he tired of playing and allowed them to rescue it.

Samantha even joined the game after a while, but when she pulled her old trick, Christian, acting as referee, pointed at the basket. “No goal,” he yelled. “Sam, you know it’s supposed to go through the top of the basket, not the bottom.”

She argued, citing as defense her relatively shorter height. He slapped her with a foul and confined her to a barrel of nails until she regained her temper and apologized.

They naturally gravitated into two teams, the Redcoats and the Yanks, and played whenever they had the opportunity. Samantha developed into a valuable player on the Redcoat team once she mastered the fundamentals. With her small size and quickness, she dribbled circles around the bigger, clumsier men. Only Christian or Garrett could steal the ball from her, and even they had difficulty doing so. However, her main threat soon came from young Cullen, who began to outshine them all.

To Samantha’s frustration, the Redcoat coach, Aunt Delia, told her niece that she would permanently bench her should she try to shoot baskets. But whenever a Yank committed a foul against Samantha, even Aunt Delia was unable to prevent her from taking her foul shots. She never made them. A few times in the middle of a game, Christian clearly took pity on her and lifted her up by her waist to the basket, allowing her to dunk the ball. His team always booed and hissed and contested the points.

The first time the unfortunate Garrett ran full tilt into Samantha and knocked her flat onto her back, Christian dashed over and picked her up. She blinked at him with crossed eyes.

“You’re too small to take charges,” he said tightly. “If you ever do that again, I’m banning you from the game.”

She marked it as one of the few occasions they agreed on an issue. Despite her shaky condition, she demanded her foul shots.

He shook his head. “Most certainly not. I believe we can all agree to grant you the two points.”

She remained as adamant as he, and eventually, after much shouting and a few tears, she got her way. This time she tried a different strategy. She tossed the ball underhanded by bringing it up from between her knees … and came close. The next one went in the basket, and both teams patted her on the back. Samantha later learned that, while she was recovering from her collision with Garrett, he took a brutal charge from Christian, and the ball had not even been in play. He complained about the lump on the back of his head for a week.

Owing to his age and superior wisdom, Pettibone normally assumed the role of referee and called fouls with much whistling on a hornpipe. Affecting a composed, disdainful manner when the players questioned his calls in a less than polite manner, he tilted his long, sharp nose up in the air and pointed stiffly to the sidelines, tossing recalcitrant players out of the game with abandon at the slightest infraction. Once he even ejected Aunt Delia. He demanded she retire to her cabin when she stomped onto the court, shook her fists at him over a decision she saw as unfair, and called him a “blind, old fool.”

The Yanks were the better team, with both Christian and Garrett, who had more experience with the game, and Cullen, who played as if he had emerged from his mother’s womb with a basketball in his hands. At times, Christian took Pettibone’s place as referee, especially when the Yanks grumbled about the British referee showing bias toward the Redcoats. But Christian could not remain on the sidelines for long; his love of the game called to him, and he soon returned to the court.

One afternoon when azure sky seamlessly met the sea and gulls from the coast described lazy spirals about the ship, Samantha leaned over the bow railing to watch dolphins leap across the ship’s path. Having learned to separate his firm strides from the others’ long ago, she heard Christian approaching. When he stopped behind her, his masculine odor enveloped her.

“Why do they do that?” She pointed to the dolphins and turned her head to look at him. Tied back with a ribbon and tossed by the wind, her long hair streamed behind her like a banner and flowed across his chest and face. He brushed it aside, draped it over her shoulder, and rested his hand there to keep the tresses in place. His eyes were bright today and crinkled at the corners in the sunlight. They held soft interest instead of the angry or indifferent light she had seen too much of lately.

He looked out at the dolphins, and his expression grew thoughtful. “No one really knows. Sailors believe dolphins steer them to safe waters. They’ve saved drowning sailors by using their bodies as floating buoys or by towing unconscious men close to shore. For some unfathomable reason, dolphins seem to have an affinity with humans. Lord knows why. They’re hunted for meat in most parts of the world.”