The Stowaway

XIX

"Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually." E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

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XIX.

It was difficult to remain feeling embarrassed and silly when sailing past some of the most beautiful islands that Eliza had ever seen. Such was a colour green that she had never before seen! And the sea! The sea was the bluest, clearest water there ever was, and Eliza was quite convinced that Eden must have looked like the Caribbean.

But whenever the captain would actively avoid her, she was swiftly reminded of her own folly. Eliza was not trying to seek him out either, but she wished he would have come to her to mend things, and to tell her that she had caused no permanent damage.

But he had not, and only Eliza's imagination could run with theories as to why. She had asked him if he was tortured, drowning. Only now in hindsight could she understand how careless and nosy it was to ask such questions so bluntly to a man she really did not know the first thing about.

He was stoic and silent, and rarely expressed an emotion on his stern face. Something must have happened to make him this way, something terrible. To take no enjoyment from the world spoke of such irreparable heartbreak.

Eliza wondered if the captain ever had a sweetheart. Perhaps a lady, maybe even a wife, ashore, who was not faithful. Who spurned him for another. Or maybe she died. No, Eliza decided. She didn't die. He did not seem like a man in mourning. There was anger inside of him. She had experienced it many times in her short tenure aboard the Atlantis. The captain had had his heart broken, Eliza was quite sure of it.

Only would sort of woman would ever leave him? Captain Buckley was loyal, and noble, and fiercely protective of those in his charge. And he was handsome. Very handsome. She was not so bashful that she could not admit that. The intensity of his dark stare stirred something in her stomach that she had never felt before.

What a foolish woman, indeed, Eliza thought, before immediately ordering herself never to bring up the subject with the captain again.

The poor captain had been injured quite enough, without Eliza sticking her nose into his business.

It took a week of sailing to travel from the British Virgin Islands to the port of Kingston, Jamaica. Eliza had been awestruck for several miles as the ship sailed towards the port. The sheer vastness of the green hills was breathtaking, and Eliza had seen miles and miles of white sand, such a colour that she had only seen in the Caribbean. English beaches could not compare.

Just like the British Virgin Islands, there were dozens of ships at port in Kingston, most of which appeared to be similar ships to the Atlantis. Eliza supposed that they must have been merchant ships as well.

Eliza recalled that Jamaica was home to some of the largest sugar plantations in the world, and that these ships must be responsible for transporting the sugar all around the world. Eliza noticed a few of the ships flying British flags, though many remained neutral.

***

The men were just as excited to dock in Jamaica as they had been at the previous port. They were speaking animatedly about dishes that Eliza had never heard of, copious amounts of alcohol they intended to drink, and the names of certain women whom they longed to see.

Eliza intended to follow them, though willing to try the food, she would explore as they indulged in drink and women. She was certain there would be much to see, and many people to meet.

"Eliza."

Eliza froze just as she was about to step onto the ramp that led down onto the dock. He had not spoken to her for a week and she had not been prepared.