Chapter Six
Knee deep in the surf that frothed along the natural bay's edge, William dropped the spyglass tethered to his chest bandolier.
It swung across his bronzed torso like a pendulum. His body was strong, well muscled with skin tanned to a deep sun-kissed gold, but his mind was weary.
Another goddamn bare horizon.
The seamless joint of turquoise sea and sky was unmarked by even a single ship. The daytime sea breezes blowing landward would have brought a ship in by now, if one were coming at all.
He kicked at small dune of the powdery white sand, sending a spray of fine particles up into the wind and back into his face, adding to his frustration.
"A month! A bloody month or more!" he shouted, his voice travelling out across the incoming surf. Grabbing the knife tied at his waist, he tramped over to a nearby palm tree and carved one more notch into its already scarred trunk. He counted the total gashes carved there so far.
Fifty-eight. One for each day.
Goddamn it!
He shook his head, nearly all of his blond locks escaping from the tie at the nape of his neck. Fifty-eight! As if he needed that confirmation.
No ship in all that time meant no plantation sugar or raw molasses had been sold to an arriving merchant to be traded elsewhere, and no incoming supplies of any kind had arrived at the island plantation. The running of the damned entire sugarcane operation had fallen into his lap by accident. Or by fate, as Tess would have interjected.
The only thing emptier than William's growling stomach was the Big House's pantry. He let out an irritated groan. Fish, and a few fruits and vegetables would be the only thing filling their bellies until the next ship showed up. He wondered how many more days that would be. Weeks probably. God, he hated fish.
He sighed.
Emma would be even more disappointed. The pudgy cook had made a point of warning everyone at her nightly table that her supply of spices and seasonings was becoming precariously low.
Emma's culinary skills in the Big House's kitchen were nothing short of magical. Her cooking kept a reasonable amount of flesh on everyone's bones, in spite of her dwindling supplies, and she had a knack of making flavorful meals seemingly out of not much more than watery broth and thin air, but even she had her limits.
William did a mental head count again.
Emma and Brigs, Tess, himself, and two toddlers. Hannah, his own daughter, was barely two years old and ate next to nothing, unlike Nathaniel, being of the same age, who was the other boisterous child and one who had been abandoned into their care at the plantation, but still he worried about the children's requirements.
And then there were the ex-slaves. Tess was adamant that everyone needed to get off this island.
Twenty-eight adults, and two very young children.
No merchant ship would be willing to take on that many passengers mid journey. And even if a captain were to take pity on them and agree to take them all, they had nothing with which to pay for their passage.
Except Tess's spinner rings wit all of those inset jewels. It was a possibility that William had been considering for a few weeks. He was sure that she would never give them all up to be traded or sold, but maybe one or two of them ....
Or what if I went alone? Or with Brigs? We could make business connections, sell some of his gunpowder and the rest of our molasses, and then hire a ship to return for the others.
As quickly as the thought entered his head, he discarded it.
I could never leave the rest of them here. Especially Tess and Hannah. What if instead of arranging passage back for the others, I never made it back? He shook his head. Tess would never stand for me leaving in the first place.
How many quarrels had they had about this possibility already? It had been a heated discussion between them for months. On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any other solution presenting itself. William exhaled heavily and set his jaw. He would have to throw the idea out there again.
"William!"
As if on cue, out of the corner of his eye he saw Tess approach, her sun glazed copper curls spilling down her back and bouncing from a stride that was more purposeful than he would have liked it to have been right now. He already knew what was coming and held up a hand in protest.
"Tess! As you can see for yourself, there is no ship. But if and when there is, you won't be coming with me. Think about it. You're a mother now. You cannot sail. It's too dangerous. Especially with a child."
"And you are the father of our child! And we are both guardians of Nathaniel," Tess retorted, her lips pulled together in a tight line.
Here it comes. William never had been able to out-argue her logic.
"And you are mistaken, William, if you think that it's your decision alone. I'm not denying that there are unavoidable dangers in sailing to Port Royal, least of all, that neither you nor Brigs have the faintest idea where Port Royal is from here, and secondly, that you don't even have a ship, but – "
"Tess!" William cut her off. "I'm not trying to start a spat with you. I'm just saying this: I need to make new trade connections before we all starve. When the next ship comes, I'll request passage and will take a man or two from the plantation along – those who have some sailing experience – and don't forget, I'll have Brigs with me as well. Brigs may have lost his foot, but he makes damn fine gunpowder that we can sell and I'm pretty sure he hasn't lost his sailing skills."
Sea green eyes simmered back at him along with flushing of her cheeks – dangerous signs of her temper building. William felt his innards tighten. He cursed himself now for even bringing the subject up.
"Brigs will be useful as an experienced carpenter onboard, too," William muttered, continuing but already knowing that nothing was going to aid his argument. He took a big breath. "Tess, if nothing else, surely you must agree that it's safer for you and the children to stay here than to risk coming along back to sea. I won't endanger you by letting you come along –"
Tess's eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Letting me? Letting me? I am not a child to be told what I may and may not do, and I am not yours to control, William Taylor!"
"I don't mean to control you!" He rolled his eyes. "And that would be a foolish man, one who would even try." He grinned, hoping to break the tension between them with some merriment. He thought he saw a flicker of a grin lift the corners of her mouth. He lowered his voice. There would be no advantage in yelling for all to hear their disagreement. "It's just that, well, you are my wife. To take care of. And that's the way things should be between husband and wife."
His words quickly extinguished any spark of a smile that may have been building on Tess's face. "It may have been so back in England, William. For your parents. For my parents. But here, on this island, we are equals."
"You see? That's only another reason as to why you should stay here. Sailing away to another port where people still live by such rules would only get you – us – into trouble. That attitude doesn't sit well with most people, Tess. You know that. Women don't and can't do the same things as men." William reached out and pulled her to him.
"Tess," his voice softened, "I love your confidence and your determination. You are more clever than anyone I have ever met, and certainly more beautiful." He smiled and cupped her chin in one hand, lifting her face towards his, his eyes tender.
"And perhaps one day, such attributes will be acknowledged – desired even – in women, but the reality is that in the here and now, where we all live and die by our strength, you must be taken care of. And I swear, by God, so long as I live, that I will use every ounce of my strength to keep you and our daughter – Nathaniel, too – safe from harm." He lowered his face to hers to seal his oath with a kiss.
Tess blocked his advance, her fingers pressing his mouth away.
"I appreciate your concern for us – the weaker sex, as you have just pointed out – but may I remind you that my strengths – my medical knowledge and skills – have also saved your life on more than one occasion?"
William gave a sigh of frustration, and his arms dropped to his sides. As he had feared, this topic and conversation were getting far too much out of control. "I don't deny that. I only meant that, as a woman –"
"Surely you aren't suggesting that I should not come along because I'm a woman?" Tess's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm pretty sure that the actual parts that make you male, and me female are not required for the job of sailing."
"Of course not, you're twisting my words – " William stopped midsentence and stared across the bay's waters. He squinted against glare of the tropical sun on the ocean, and then blinked to clear his vision.
A tiny black dot floated on the ocean's horizon. A speck that was already growing larger. Relief washed over William and a smile slipped across his face.
An incoming ship. Finally!
"It seems we're arguing for nothing, Tess." He pointed toward the dark outline, already taking definite form. William lifted the spyglass to his eye. For a few moments he stared in silence and then his body stiffened. A deep shaft of anxiety splintered inside him.
The ship was approaching with amazing speed for a merchant ship.
Shit.
The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He spun back towards Tess. "Run to the mill and the Big House! See if Brigs is back. Get as many of the other men as you can. Tell them to get down here right away. Everyone comes armed. And everyone but Brigs is to conceal themselves until I signal." Raw tension carved a furrow down the middle of his forehead. He twisted back towards the ocean and raised the spyglass to his eye once again.
"We have an unexpected visitor."