Noble Duty

24. Family Gathering

Sunday, 19th June, 1718

As we rode along the strand in the carriage that had been sent for us, I said, "The delayed departure is truly a blessing; otherwise, we would have missed your weekly family gathering."

Camelia shrugged and smiled, "I had conspired with Father to slow the lading of wheat, forcing your decision."

"Oh!" I recalled how it had evolved – the sudden slowing, and I nodded. "Thank you. A wise conspiracy it was, and I now see its many merits. A respite for the crew and time to test the rigging and train new hands. But more, an opportunity for us to meet your extended family – and for those of them who are sailing with us, provide a fitting family farewell."

Camelia chuckled. "The way you salivated at the mention of roast calf prompted us to plan an impromptu gathering, but too many found it inconvenient mid-week. With the calf already slaughtered and hung, I thought to do it this way."

Gillian smiled. "With your inventive thinking, I now look even more forward to having you join us. But also, I see more clearly your difficulty in finding a suitable man. Few could match your creativity and spirit."

Camelia shrugged and grinned. "And on that matter – tell me what you know about Michael."

"Michael?"

"Master Evans."

"Oh! You find interest in him?"

Camelia blushed and nodded. "I do. And increasingly as we talk."

"I know nothing about him." Gillian turned to me. "Jarvis, what do you know?"

"A quick and brilliant mind. Highly skilled in all things nautical. Eager and enterprising."

"I see all that by observation. But beyond the surface – who is he?"

"He was among the survivors of a shipwreck we found two weeks ago off the Florida coast. If he continues proving himself, I will appoint him as Captain of one of our new ships next month."

"Ooh! But, beyond that? Who is he?"

I smiled at her. "That is yours to learn."

Gillian placed a hand on Camelia's. "Does he show interest in you?"

She trembled and nodded. "He does, and this warms me – for the first time ever."

"First time ever?"

"So many have shown interest in me since I came of age, but none have caused me to tingle until him."

"Tingle at his touch?"

"No, we have not become that close – yet. It is only at my thoughts about him. And at my touch while thinking ..." She slapped a hand to her mouth, her face reddening as she looked at me. "Not to be said with men present."

I chuckled. "No matter. I know the feelings well."

She nodded. "And the delayed departure also affords me the opportunity to discuss my feelings with Mother and Grandmama and seek advice on how to proceed. Until now, I have had no interest in knowing."

"I am certain it will be far better advice than the counsel Mother gave ..." Gillian paused when the carriage door opened. "Oh, here already."

Charles reached in and offered a hand to assist Gillian from the carriage, and Camilia followed. As I stepped down, I saw before us two long lines of people, one on each side of the path leading toward the house, and Charles said, "We shall begin with introductions."

He led us to the first group. "You know Charlie and Mary," and as Camilia slipped beside her parents, he added, "And Camilia, William, Thomas and David."

After introducing their other children and an infant grandchild, he turned to the other side of the path and continued with James' family. In this manner, we progressed along the path, and after the final introduction, he pointed toward the house and said, "On fair days such as this, the elders among us sit on the veranda and have coffee, chocolate or tea while we watch the younger ones play their games on the lawns."

Unfamiliar with the word, I asked, "Veranda? What is this?"

"What we have come to call our broad porches. The Spanish use the word for their railed porticos, and it sounds finer than porch."

I nodded. "Yes, spanning the entire house like that, porch does not do it justice. What manner of games do they play?"

"Mainly fencing, archery, quoits and pall-mall."

Gillian tilted her head. "Pall Mall? We have a house in Pall Mall, but I have not heard of the game."

"Oh, and what a splendid house it is. But the game – it is played with long-handled mallets and wooden balls. The first King James brought it from Scotland and played it on the lawns of Saint James Palace. It became the fashion, and over the years, courts were laid along the road leading to the palace and thus the name of the road."

I bobbed my head through this explanation, then said, "We played pall-mall at Oxford. I can teach you, if you wish."

"Ooh, could you? I watched them from my window, but I never learnt the name."

"I would love to. But it surprises me that curiosity had not spurred you to learn."

Gillian grimaced. "My first visit to our house in Pall Mall was during my coming of age when Mother cloistered me there. Such confusing times."

"Oh!" Not a topic to discuss in company. I turned to Charles. "Might you arrange for us to join a game?"

"Yes, certainly." He placed an arm around Camille's waist and said to her, "Come, let us see if we still have the knack."

A long while later, as we debated whether Camille's ball had passed through the hoop, Charles said, "The Dutch community here play a somewhat similar game called colf, but instead of a hoop, their target is a hole in the ground. It might make sense for us to adopt that and obviate the frequent disputes."

Camille nodded. "Indeed. My ball did go through, but you were too preoccupied talking with Jarvis to see it."

Charles chuckled. "For me, the major part of the game is the opportunity for casual intercourse along the way. The ball serves as a means for that."

"True." She waved her arm at a lad, and when he approached, she pointed at the arch of wire standing in the ground. "Hie thee to the other end of this pitch and dig a shallow, round hole where the hoop now stands – make it the same span as the hoop. Then hie thee back here and do the same."

The lad grinned. "Yes, Grandmama. Like the Dutch play it."

As the lad hastened away, Camille smiled. "Now, my ball in the hole will be proof, and you need not watch my superbly aimed long strokes."

We granted Camille the win and then turned about to recommence the game in the opposite direction. Halfway along, the aromas of veal wafted across our pitch, and I looked toward the roasting spit, salivating in anticipation.