Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (28 page)

“The currents of the Atlantic, entering
the Gulf of Mexico, circle it gradually, making it a liquid island within an
ocean.”

“How strange.”

“Some say the Sargasso Sea covers the
island of Atlantis. Some people even think the seaweed is the vegetation of the
ancient continent. If a ship is caught up, the voyage can be delayed for weeks,
or even postponed permanently due to the weeds. The vegetation can solidify and
take over ships, which have disappeared in its dense carpet of algae.” 

“Please, Captain. You are frightening
our little girl,” said Jane.

“I am not frightened now, Mrs…Jane. The
storm has passed,” said Nell. “But why is it called Sargasso Sea?”

“Apparently, the locals call it sargazo,
a mixture of Spanish and their native tongue which must mean gulfweed. It is
the name of the seaweed you can see in the sea.”

“And why was there such a whirlwind?” Nell’s
curiosity was insatiable.

“Because the ocean streams surround it,
and the lighter substances crowd together in the centre of the sea, where there
is the least motion. When there is a storm encircling the stream, it builds up
into a whirlwind in the centre, twists in circles, and hurls its contents. That
is why we found tree trunks and tortoises on deck this morning, young lady.”

“I suppose ships usually avoid it, why
didn’t we? We could have sunk,” I asked him, rubbing my sore arm.

“We avoided part of it, madam. We cut
through the northern edge. If we had been nearer the centre, it would have
pulled us inside, and we would now be conversing in purgatory. Ships rarely go
anywhere near the wide Sargasso Sea when there are storms.”

“So why did we?” I asked.

“Because storms are unusual before July,
and Mrs. Mason insisted on arriving as soon as possible, which meant taking a
short cut. The storm was unforeseeable. We have just had a unique experience,
and survived. We are fortunate, indeed,” he said gravely.    

Nell was oblivious to the dangerous
moments we had experienced. “Yes, it was pretty this morning. I saw brown weed,
large leafed plants, jellyfish, and floating tree trunks, wooden boards, and
lots of seashells floating on the water. It was pretty!”

“Some of those pretty things, as you
call them, were probably the wreckage of other less fortunate ships who did not
survive the storm. Many ships have been lost in the Sargasso Sea.”

Nell was not deterred and continued her
account of what she had seen earlier that day.

“I saw some huge starfish, too. Some
were bright pink, others orange, and there were turtles and birds. I hadn’t
seen a bird since we left Eyre Hall, almost.”

“That means we are near land. You see
this little island in the middle,” he said, pointing again to the map he had
drawn, “it is called Bermuda. We will be sailing past it tomorrow.”

Nell gave a little jump and spun around.
“Can we stop, Captain?” He shot a look at Jane whose eyes widened as she shook
her head.

“I am afraid we need to get to Jamaica
as soon as possible,” he said.

Nell dropped her arms and looked down to
the wooden floorboards. Jane reached out and caught hold of her hand. “On our
way back home, Helen, we shall stop on our way back if you like.”

Nell wrinkled her nose and stared at
Jane.

“Would it displease you if I called you
Helen? If we all called you Helen from now on?” asked Jane, shocking us all
once more. “It would be like a game, and it would make me very happy. Do you
mind, Helen?”

Nobody dared to speak after Jane’s
strange words. I turned to Harry, wondering if she had suffered some kind of shock
during the storm, or perhaps it was the strain of the twenty–eight days we had
been at sea, but he was smiling and broke the silence.

“I think Helen is a beautiful name. I
would like to use it, too, if you don’t mind, of course, Helen.” He stepped on
my toe and nodded at me with a wink.

“Helen is my favourite name,” I said, suddenly
remembering the name on the envelope Diana had given Jane before we left. Could
Nell be Jane’s daughter? She was the same age, and at times, she did look
extraordinarily like Jane. I had thought it was the child’s desire to imitate
her, but perhaps they were mother and daughter.   

 “Any more questions, Helen?” asked the captain.

“When will the seaweed go away? It is
nice for a change, but I prefer to see the ocean; the seaweed is scary.”

“Tomorrow, the ocean will resume its
usual appearance, and we will be very near land, so near, in fact, that we may
be able to see an island. Our journey is fast coming to an end.”

We spent a pleasant afternoon reading
and walking along the deck, spotting starfish, huge seashells, plants, sea
birds, and flowers.

The following morning we all rushed up
to the deck to see the beautiful island of Bermuda. The seaweed had almost disappeared
and the waters were deep blue once again. Harry stood by my side caressing my
hand with his. I did not move my hand away, and he threaded his fingers through
mine and squeezed them gently. His warm hand and firm hold sent tickles all along
my arm, and down to my fluttering stomach.

Jane and Helen rushed down the deck to
get a better view of the emerald coastal waters, white beaches, and lush green
landscape. 

I sighed. “I had not realised how much I
missed Jamaica until this very minute,”

“I am not surprised. What breathtaking
colours,” he whispered and turned to me.

The view was unlike any other place on
earth. The newly risen red sun shone radiantly above the horizon, and the
bright colours around us sprang to life, while a warm breeze caressed my face. The
salty smell of the sea, tinged with a hint of sweet tropical fruits, filled my
senses.

“Just like your eyes, your hair, your
skin, and your lips.” His fingers tipped my chin upwards, and his lips brushed
mine gently. I felt serene and hazy, my eyelids fell heavily, and my lips
parted. He kissed me unhurriedly, embracing me tenderly, and I wished the magical
moment could last forever.

“Harry!” cried Helen, “Are you kissing
Annette?”

We broke away immediately and giggled
self–consciously.

“I apologise, Jane. I was not aware you
had returned,” said Harry, looking perfectly mortified.

“Not at all, no need to apologise,” Jane
said, “and Helen, you should not be spying or peeking. Come, I believe Annette
and Harry need some time alone, to talk.”

He took my hand again. “I am not sorry I
kissed you,” he said, looking at Bermuda.

I moved closer. “Neither am I,” I whispered,
and we kissed again and again, until Bermuda and the surrounding islands were
only specks on the ocean.

Later, after lunch, when we walked along
the deck, hand in hand, I told him what was on my mind. I had seen too many
lies and secrets ruin relationships. I cared for Harry, and I did not want to
have to pretend I was an innocent damsel.

“Harry, you are not the first man I have
kissed.”

He was silent, as I had expected. I was someone
else’s cast off. I could never be with the man I loved, yet I had become
unsuitable for any other man. Such was the helpless plight of women, while men
were allowed many lovers, without reproach, even after marriage.

“That isn’t important,” he finally said,
“as long as I am the last.”

It was my turn to be speechless. I didn’t
understand the implications of his words. What did he mean? What was he
proposing?

“I should like to be the only man you
kiss from now on. Shall I be the last, Annette?”

“I am not sure if I understand what you
are asking of me.”

 “I love you, Annette.”

I gasped. “What do you mean? How is it
possible?”

“I have loved you for a long time,
Annette. Since the first day I met you at Eyre Hall when Helen was taken ill.”

“I had no idea, Harry. Have I done
anything to encourage you? If I have it was not intended.”

“No. It was not your fault I fell in
love, but I am glad I did. I have enjoyed your company, when I have had the privilege
of seeing you and conversing with you at Eyre Hall, and at the hospital these
last few months.”

He was silent, but when I did not speak,
he continued. “I realise your silence means that you do not love me yet, but if
you are not adverse to my company, I am willing to wait until you do love me,
and I am sure you will, in time.”

I was still lost for words, because I didn’t
know what I felt for him. I found him pleasing. I did enjoy his kisses, and his
hand in mine was comforting, but I didn’t feel for him the yearning need I had
felt for John.

 “If you accept my offer of courtship, I
promise to be faithful and respectful to you alone.”

“Harry, thank you for your kind words,
and your generous promise, but I do not yet know what I feel for you, or what I
could come to feel.”

“Dare I ask if your heart is already
taken by another man? I mean, do you still love the man who kissed you?”

“No, I…” I was about to tell him it was
impossible, but instead I said, “No, I no longer love him.”

“Well, that gives me hope. May I speak
to Jane?”

“On what terms?”

“I should like permission to call on
you, if you agree, so we could walk alone, or hand in hand with her approval,
instead of worrying about being caught by Helen, for example.”

I had to laugh. He looked so upset and
his words sounded so amusing.

“How can you ‘call on me’ on this ship?
We are constantly bumping into each other.”

“Well, at least I make you laugh. That
is no doubt a good beginning.”

“I do like you, Harry.”

“You like me? Well, that is another
point in my favour.”

“I like you very much. I enjoy being in
your company, you are pleasant and your conversation is varied and
knowledgeable. I also enjoy working with you at the hospital. I respect your
work and your dedication to your patients. You are a good man, you…deserve
better.”

“I can do no better than to court the
woman I love, Annette, and that is you.”

“I mean someone who loves you, too.”

“Could we try to get to know each other
better, and perhaps, in time, you will love me.”

“I cannot guarantee my feelings will
grow.”

“But I can wait, and hope, and try to
convince you, if you will allow me to.”

The moon was shining over the rippling
waters, and a strong wind blew into my face, lifting my hair. His eyes darkened
as his hands held my face close to his.

“Do you like my kisses, Annette?”

I moved my lips closer to his in reply.
I closed my eyes and listened to the waves breaking against our boat, rocking
us gently in the middle of the ocean. I laid my arms on his shoulders and
thought he would be easy to love if I could forget John’s tormented face, when
he kissed me farewell and vowed it would be our last kiss.

***

After sighting Bermuda, we passed many
other islands, which I would have considered beautiful if I had not been so
preoccupied and overexcited due to the proximity to our destination.

Annette and Harry were increasingly more
occupied with each other’s company, and Helen and I spent much time wondering
along the deck with Captain Long. He kindly told us the names of the major
islands we passed like St. Vincent's and St. Lucia, and we even anchored for a
few hours in Port Royal Bay, Martinique, because we were in need of some basic
supplies. I must say that Martinique had the appearance of a little paradise;
even so, I was glad to leave it behind, because it meant we were coming closer
to Jamaica, and Michael.

Captain Long had advised me that we
might find him in dire conditions. Pirates and kidnappers were not known to be
civil to their prisoners, and I was worried that as their emissary was dead, his
captors might not be accommodating. However, I was confident that the Governor
of Jamaica had been informed by the Ministry for the Colonies and the
Admiralty, with the help of Admiral Fitzjames’ contacts, and they would be
waiting for us at Montego Bay.

I shuddered as I remembered the image I
had seen when I first held his red button and chain, which I had been wearing
around my neck since I had recovered it from the pirate.

Eight days after passing Bermuda, we
caught sight of Jamaica.  We were all up, and on the lookout by six o'clock. I
found it a most beautiful sight; such hills, such mountains, such dense
vegetation, and such bright colours, filled me with immense joy.  I breathed deeply;
there was a delicious tinge of sweetness in the air, although I was sure
Michael had not been able to smell it because the barbarians who had imprisoned
him had confined him underground.

The island gradually grew bigger and
more colourful as we approached the coast. We saw small boats scattered around
the bay, which the captain informed us probably belonged to local smugglers,
masquerading as fishermen. He looked through his telescope and told us there
were British soldiers near the beach and he spotted the battlements of Rosewood
Castle, hidden behind a dense forest at the top of a distant hill.  

The captain insisted on approaching the
soldiers alone first, but I told him I had not come this far to sit and wait
for his news. Annette had offered to come, but I did not want Helen to remain
alone, so I asked Annette to stay with her, while Captain Long, Harry and I
approached the island on a small boat.

The heat had been so dreadful, and my
anticipation so overpowering, that I had barely slept or eaten since we passed Bermuda.
Harry looked very concerned and tried to convince me to stay on board, but he
soon realised any attempt to keep me away from Rosewood Castle would be
useless.

The soldiers approached us as we landed.
“Welcome to Jamaica, Captain Long. We’ve been expecting you for a few days. The
governor instructed us to visit Rosewood Castle and wait for your arrival last
week.” He held out his hand and introduced himself. “Captain Gordon, Her
Majesty’s Navy.”

“Have you been to the castle?”

“Indeed we have. They all left when they
saw us approach.”

“They?”

“The pirates. The Black King is well
known in this part of the island. Lives in that empty, ruined castle with his
family. They call themselves Rey, or Kings of the island. Say they descend from
the first Spanish Conquistadors. Perhaps, but who cares? Nowadays they are just
travelling criminals, taking over empty old buildings to cover their heads, and
smuggling and thieving along the Montego Bay, mostly. They don’t look for
trouble, so they fled as soon as we appeared.”

“And the prisoner?”

“Might have taken him with them, or…” he
stopped speaking to scratch his unruly beard and shot us stealthy looks with
shifty eyes. I imagined there was a bandit hiding under the shabby, crooked
uniform. Captain indeed, he certainly did not look or speak like an Englishman.

“Or what?” I asked the impostor.

“There was someone inside when we
arrived,” he said, straightening his humped shoulders. I realised he was hiding
a shameful deed. Had the pirates bribed him?

“Was?” I asked. My voice was shaking,
and so were my legs. He looked from the captain to the doctor awkwardly,
straightening his belt, and ignoring my question.

“Did you look in the dungeons?” I asked.

“There was something or someone in the
dungeons.”

We watched silently, but he shook his
head, as if dismissing the situation as hopelessly unavoidable. Why had they
not rescued him? The heat was scorching, and I wished I could rid myself of my
cumbersome skirts and tight bodice. I wiped the perspiration from my brow. “Take
us there at once.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said
calmly, feet nailed to the ground displaying no intention of movement. “He’s
good as dead, madam. Looks like yellow fever. We didn’t approach him. Too
dangerous.”

I was for a few seconds out of my
senses, neither breathing nor hearing. The world had stopped spinning, and I
was watching the captain and Harry’s lips move silently, in slow motion,
presumably arguing with the man.

I felt a weight on my shoulder. Harry’s
hand squeezed me back to life.

“He is alive. I would know it if he were
not,” I told him, as calmly as I could. I felt like screaming that we should
not waste another second, but I realised I had to maintain a calm appearance,
or I would be rendered incapable of staying with the men. 

“Let us not waste any more time, Captain
Gordon. Please lead the way,” said Harry briskly.

I must have boarded the horse–drawn
carriage, and we must have travelled for some time, because as I descended the
steps on our arrival, I vaguely remember the heat, the dry dust, and the
swaying of the carriage. My feet leapt onto the arid ground.

I looked up the rocky slope to the
derelict house, which paid tribute to its former magnificence, proudly yet
decadently facing the ocean. The cracked wooden shutters banged noisily against
the window frames, and a colony of black birds squealed angrily from the
rooftops, warning us to keep away. 

I ran up the jagged steps to reach the
central archway leading onto the gaping front door and flew into the decaying
building, almost slipping on the leaf–laden floor. I rushed in and out of the
empty rooms, calling, “Michael!”, while the crumbling walls shouted his name
back eerily.

“Where are the dungeons?” I cried as I
ran out of the room, unable to control my exasperation any longer.  

“This way,” said one of the soldiers,
leading us down a narrow, stone staircase.

A stench of death, decay, and mossy
dampness, laden with salt from the sea, blew up as we neared the murky ground.

“Over there!” the soldier shouted,
pointing to a heap in the corner, against a wall. “Careful, he might have the
fever!” he warned before flying back up the stairs.

My eyes had not yet adjusted to the
darkness, but I rushed
towards
the wall and saw something quivering on the floor, perhaps it was a frightened
animal huddled in the corner. I fell on my knees next to it, and put my hand
out to touch the bundle. It could not be human, and even if it was, it was too
small to be Michael. My fingers touched cold, clammy skin. It was a person. I
was now able to distinguish a ball of long messy dark hair covering most of his
face. Could it be Michael? Could he have shrunk to half his size? I searched
for his hand; it was cold and limp, but not rigid and lifeless. Whoever it was,
he was still alive, and he could tell us where they had taken Michael.

Suddenly the hand clutched mine, and an
eye opened amidst the tangle of hair. I lowered my face to his and heard him
whisper with his last breath, “Jane.”

Harry’s urgent words pulled me away.
“Jane, let me see to him, please.”

I sat on the floor, numbed with the
shock of his condition. Had he died? Had I imagined he clasped my hand and
opened his eye? Did I hear him say my name? Had we arrived in Jamaica, or was
it another of my ghostly dreams? I was indeed in the dungeon I had envisaged
when I held his button at Eyre Hall. Was I delirious and had I revisited my
hallucination? Had I died in the storm?

My body was being shaken violently, but
I could not move or speak. Then I felt a sharp sting on my face, which forced
me to scream.

“Jane.” Harry’s face was staring into
mine. “Jane,” he repeated, “Michael is alive. We need to take him back to the
ship at once. Do you understand?”

I heard the words, but I had no idea
what he meant. What ship? I looked around the room. Where was I? Who were these
men staring at me? What were they doing to me? I heard meaningless words and
let myself be carried away.

“She is in a state of shock. Take her to
the carriage. I need two men to help me carry Michael to the carriage, too. We
must take them back to the ship.”

***

Helen was upset that they had left us on
board and refused to read, or sit. She was impossibly active all morning,
running up and down the deck and begging the mate to let her look through his
spyglass almost every hour. She refused to eat anything for lunch and sulked
when I sent her to Jane’s cabin for a nap when the sun was highest and
scorching on deck.

 “Annette, I want to wait here until
Michael comes back.”

“Darling, be patient. We are not yet
sure they will find him.”

“They will. Jane will find him.”

“I hope so. Would you like me to tell
you about Jamaica? I used to live here when I was a little girl like you.”

She listened attentively as I told her
about the heat in summer, and the wet season, the hurricanes, the wild birds,
the solitary beaches, and our airy colonial house in the vast plantation,
asking plenty of questions, as she always did.

 “Perhaps we will visit my house, our
house, in Spanish Town. It is a grand colonial house with an extensive sugar
plantation. There are plenty of rooms and beautiful beaches we can walk to
every day.”

I had run out of stories to tell Helen
and the sun was waning when they finally came back. She cried with excitement
as the mate told us the search party were approaching the beach.

“Seems there are two injured, being
carried,” he told us.

“Who are they? Can you see them?”

“Some soldiers are carrying Mrs. Mason,
and the doctor and the captain are carrying someone else.”

“Michael!” Helen cried.

“Could be. All I can see is a bundle,” said
the mate.

We waited impatiently as he observed
with the spyglass. When the boat neared, he turned to me. “I think the young
lass should go down to the cabin, and perhaps you too, miss.” Then he leaned
into my ear and whispered, “The bundle looks like a naked man. He might be
dead. Doesn’t look good to me.”

I gasped and told a reluctant Helen that
she had to wait in our cabin. I made her promise she would not leave until I
told her she could. I thanked God she was an obedient child, and prayed that
Michael was not dead.

Jane was carried by a sour–looking
soldier and laid on the floor. Her eyes were open, so I bent down to speak to
her, but she looked at me with a vacant stare. She seemed to neither see nor
hear me.

“Take her down to her cabin,” Harry ordered
the soldier who had laid her on the floor, and then he turned to me. “Annette,
make sure Jane’s comfortable and ask Nell to sit by her side and read the Bible
to her. Do it quickly, and then come down to the surgery with water, soap,
towels, caustic soda, bandages, and the medical chest which is in my cabin.”

I convinced a distraught Nell to sit by
Jane’s side and read the Psalms to her continuously until I came back, then I
rushed to the surgery.

We spent the following hours uncovering
layers of dirt, revealing multiple bruises, scabs, and bleeding wounds, which
Harry insisted were aired and constantly wiped clean. It was only after washing
and cutting his hair, and shaving his beard that the battered and waning figure
began to resemble Michael. He did not even flinch as we worked, and his
breathing was so shallow I thought he might have died. We finally bandaged the
wounds, covered him in a nightshirt, sat him on a bed, and tried to persuade
him to drink some water.

It was very dark when we finally left
him in his bed in the cabin and went up to the deck. I was exhausted and
saddened and cried in Harry’s arms until I had no tears left, and my chest
ached.

We sat in silence, watching the stars
moving slowly across the black sky. My head fell on his shoulder, my eyes
closed, and I wished I could sleep and dream I was back at the convent
conversing with Mother Angela or teaching the girls elocution. I wished I had
never left Spanish Town, yet strangely, now that I was so near I was not
pleased to be back. They belonged to another world I had left behind, and
although I missed it, there was no point in going back. I felt Harry’s hand rest
on my shoulder and although it was pleasurable to feel treasured by the man at
my side, I could not help myself wish it were John’s warmth I was feeling.