Cadence

Five

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Watching his first officer and cabin boy amble off Curtis contemplated the boy he knew as Cameron James.

The lad was a puzzle.

And for some reason Cam made Curtis nervous. The boy was quiet and never looked anyone directly in the eye. War had taught Curtis to be downright cynical and untrusting at a very young age, but war had also taught him to trust his instincts, and when it came to Cam his instincts fairly screamed something was not as it seemed. Through experience Curtis had drawn the firm conclusion that any man who didn’t look you in the eye was either a coward or a liar.

In any case whenever Curtis probed the subject of the lad’s past Cam’s jaws clenched tighter than an oyster protecting a precious pearl. From the corner of his eye Curtis spotted the agile youngster swinging up into the crow’s nest and a vague sense of familiarity flared to life once again. With a grunt he turned away. It would come to him eventually. Curtis Langston never forgot a face.

Ambling to the rail he observed the rising swells off the port bow. The clouds hung ominous and purple above the ship. Years at sea told him a gale would be upon them shortly. Leaning against the scarred oak rail he interlaced calloused fingers. He loved a good storm, a perplexing trait for a sailor no doubt, but there was something about battling the elements and coming out on top that he found… invigorating… empowering. Hell, if he could survive a storm perhaps even he wasn’t entirely out of God’s favor.

But it wasn’t just storms Curtis loved, it was the sea. At sea life was what he made of it. The sea made men equals, as God intended. Out here there were no politics or a misbegotten sense of honor and loyalty to die for… No Lt. Colonel Fielding to take orders from. Curtis had seen men abuse power and on the Heavenly Mistress no man was master but him, and he’d long ago resolved to run a tight ship, but a fair one.

For the last four years Curtis had lost himself in the sea, relishing the adventure and escape. He’d been forever content to drift endlessly upon the expanse of the Atlantic, and farther, into the Orient and back again, but this time something was different. He felt discontent with being gone and deep down he knew the difference was Cadence Jamison. This voyage Curtis was anxious to make port, pick up a good cargo and sail again, anxious to go back to her.

Folly! It was pure folly to spend so much time thinking of her, imagining what she was doing, and, God help him, wanting to see her. He should never have kissed her in Charleston. It had been a single moment of weakness and now he was hopelessly lost. But he could never let anything come of his feelings. Murderers didn’t deserve women like Cadence. Allan West certainly couldn’t find a woman or marry or live happily ever after and neither could Billy Cole.

Inadvertently, he shuddered, but when he closed his eyes it was not the faces of anguish which had haunted him these last five years, but the smiling face of Cadence Jamison. It was blessed relief and opening his eyes he smiled at what he would have sworn was a violet eyed beauty, an angel, watching him just beneath the surface of the water. Thinking of Cadence he felt warm. What could be the harm in letting her haunt his dreams? Her face was certainly more welcome than that of Private Allan West or his old deadfriend Billy Cole.

*       *       *

Five weeks, Cadence thought from her perch high above the ship’s deck.