Chapter 20
Stu was restless that night. He had a sixth sense when it came to the sea. Every sailor learned to develop this sense as a means of self-preservation. When the only thing between you and the briny depths of Davy Jones' Locker* was a few oak decks, you had to know when those decks were in peril. He brushed off his friends and disappeared after dinner.
That's how he came to be wandering the decks as the first hints of the new day began to brighten the sky. As he made his way to the rail and stared out at the horizon he couldn't help but smile. Though he could still feel the storm in the air, the ocean stretched before him was a glorious sight. Now that he could see the horizon again, perhaps his spirits would lift.
Damned fog!
"Oh my!" a familiar voice spoke with quiet wonder from a place to his right.
Stu smiled though he refrained from looking down at her.
"Good Morning, Miss Marston."
"Good Morning Mr. Windes!" she returned. "And my what a glorious day it looks to be!"
"I told you when last we met, Miss Marston. My friends call me Stu." This time he turned and favored her with a smile as he leaned down, resting his elbows on the rail.
"Are we to be friends then?" She smiled back, holding the rail with both hands.
Stu noted that her canes hung at her elbows from straps.
Mighty clever fellow that designed those for her. It was not a husband, but surely a beau. He sensed that a lot of love went into the making of them. He'd have to settle for friends.
"I would like that very much." He answered in a soft voice.
He was surprised he found any voice at all. She looked resplendent today in a light blue dress the color of the sky on a sunny day, and the sight of her smile nearly took his breath away. What surprised him more was how much he meant it. He sensed that a friendship with Miss Marston would be thing of real value.
"I think I should like it too, Stu." She smiled warmly at him as she extended a hand to him.
Stu took her hand without thinking and held it a bit too long. He stared at it a moment wondering that it was so small, smaller even that Em's.
"Please, won't you call me Summer?" She dipped her chin as she spoke.
"Summer." He tried the name out and decided it suited her.
She lifted her chin just a little and looked shyly at him through her lashes. The feather on her hat flopped down and blocked his view of her face. He had a sudden urge to tear the offending plumage and toss it overboard.
"I think," he sighed as the ship rolled over a large swell, "that we shall see a storm today."
"But-"
"We are friends?"
She nodded.
"I do not lie to my friends. Trust me, as a man who has spent most of his life on these waters. There will be a storm today."
"Will it..." she swallowed and tipped her head as she lifted her chin to study his face. "Will it be a bad storm?"
"Every storm at sea has the potential to be a bad storm. And any storm can be made worse by an incompetent or unprepared crew."
"Do you think?" she waved her hand in a circle indicating the ship around them.
"I couldn't say as it is neither my line, my ship, nor my crew." He shrugged. "But this is a fine ship and it has made many crossings. The storm will not sink her on this trip either."
YOU ARE READING
The Charlotte Series: Book 3: The Pretender's Gold
Historical FictionStuart Windes was an Englishman and a seasoned sailor; an old salt with 30 years at sea. When his mother passed on leaving his younger sister alone, duty called him home. But his sister, Emmaline, was *gone*! Ran away with a bloody Yankee! Summer M...