Ocean Adventurer
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Captain: William M. Smith; Captain and first mate, George W. Riggs
Crew: 10 sailors (including one officer)
Dismissal of the crew, January 1853
“I am going ashore in a few minutes,” said I. “Will you join me?”
William smiled his slow smile. “What can we do together that we cannot do alone?”
“We can get to know each other better.”
He looked at me with a quizzical expression, as if he didn’t quite understand what I meant by that. Then his smile grew even more enigmatic—as if something was amusing him behind his mask. He took my hand, then turned away from the table and led me out onto the deck.
There were only three ships in sight now; the rest had been left behind when William decided to take the ship into open water rather than go south down the coast. We walked along the railing as the ship rolled under us. The sun was hot on our backs as we stood there looking over the railing at the waves breaking against the white-peaked cliffs below us.
“Are you hungry?” asked William. “Do you want to eat in town?”
“No,” I said, thinking that it would be best if I just went straight to bed after lunch.
He laughed. “Then let’s go back inside and play cards.”
“Cards,” I repeated. It sounded too much like an invitation to stay up all night gambling with him again.
“Yes, cards. If you’re tired, you could sleep in my cabin, you know. We’ll have plenty of time for other things before we reach San Francisco.”
I shook my head. “This is not a game.” I knew perfectly well how much he liked to gamble, but this time I’d seen enough. “It isn’t even a game,” I added, with a bit more confidence, “it’s just an excuse.”
William nodded gravely. “You’re right. There are no stakes here except for your own pride. But there will be real money involved very soon,” he said cryptically. He turned and started walking back toward the hatchway. Then suddenly he stopped and held both hands out to me. “Come with me,” he insisted. “You can still change your mind.”
So I followed him.
The first thing I noticed after entering the saloon was that there were more people about than usual. Most of them were gathered around one end of the room—which wasn’t strange in itself. That’s where everyone usually congregated, especially when the ship was rolling.
However, it seemed as though every one of them was staring at us as we walked through their midst. They watched me closely—not with the same eager interest they might’ve shown had William been coming with us, but almost as if they were afraid to breathe in our direction because we represented some kind of threat or danger to them.
As we approached, a group of men sitting on stools near the door rose slowly to their feet and moved aside to give us space to pass.
When I reached the center of the room, I found myself looking down the length of the bar. I couldn’t see anyone who I recognized; but then I hadn’t expected to recognize any of these people anyway, since none of them had ever been on board with us before. Still, they were staring at me as if I were someone famous, or maybe notorious.
William must have noticed the look on my face; he came to stand beside me. “What’s wrong, Rachel? Do you think something is wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But there are a lot of men here who aren’t sailors.”
“They’re mostly merchants,” said William. He put his arm around me and kissed me gently on the cheek. “Just ignore them. They’re just curious about you.”
“What is it?” he asked.
I hesitated before answering him. “Why do you always ask that?” I demanded irritably, knowing full well that he’d already told me the answer to that question at least a hundred times. “Because you want me to tell you! So why don’t you just accept it and quit asking me all the time?”
William gave me a long look as if weighing my words, and then he shrugged. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense to ask that kind of question when the answer has already been given.”
We stood there, holding each other until two young sailors came hurrying into the saloon from the deck above. One of them, a boy barely past his teens wearing a red shirt, had to stop and catch his breath after climbing down those steep stairs.
After the boy recovered himself and wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, he took the stool next to ours and ordered a round of drinks for everyone who was present. When the glasses arrived he held the bottle up high above his head, and called to the bartender in a loud voice:
“To Captain Black!”
A chorus of cheers greeted this announcement, and then the bottles and glasses were knocked together several times, while the patrons cheered again, drowning out any attempt I made to hear what the man was saying.
“Who’s captain now?” asked William quietly. “And what did they just toast?”
“It’s just the usual thing,” I assured him. “Everyone does it whenever a new captain comes aboard.”
“Ahh,” said William, nodding sagely, although I didn’t understand the wisdom he thought he was imparting upon me.
As we stood there at our table waiting for the bartender to bring more drinks for the two of us, I looked around and saw a number of women standing against the wall. They were dressed in fine dresses, and they stared openly at William’s bare chest and arms. Several of them giggled and nudged their friends.
A pretty blonde girl with big eyes and a generous bosom came to sit across from us and leaned in close to speak loudly so everyone else could hear her. She was laughing when she spoke.
“Captain William has such lovely blue eyes!” she said. “I just love them! They remind me of my favorite doll when I was little. My mom said I used to kiss it every night before bedtime.”
Several more people laughed when the girl said that, including the young sailor at our end of the bar, who was leaning forward to listen intently to whatever the girl was saying.
“That’s very funny,” William replied, not looking at the girl who was speaking. “Do you know my name?”
“No,” said the girl, still grinning as if he had told an especially good joke. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind. You can call me Dollie. Everyone else does.”
“How do you like your ship so far?” I asked William softly as if we weren’t in public anymore. “Is everything going all right?”
He turned to look at me and frowned slightly. “Yes,” he said finally, “except for one thing.”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, startled by the change in subject. “What’s that?”
“Well,” he explained, “there’s nothing to eat aboard except bread and hardtack biscuits. And even though I haven’t tried it yet, I suspect the bread might be moldy.”
The woman sitting near Dollie giggled as the young sailor next to us repeated that last remark. The others at the table laughed and clapped him on the back, but William didn’t join them.
“There’s fresh meat aboard,” I said quickly to try to help him feel better. “I mean, we caught some fish this morning. There are lots of birds too.”
William gave me a quick smile. “That’s true,” he agreed. “We got several birds, and the cook says the fish are very nice.” He took my hand in his. “But I miss the cheese sandwiches.”
Dollie spoke up then, interrupting us. “Did you hear what I said? That was funny, wasn’t it! Did you like it? It sounds like a line from one of my favorite poems, ‘A Visit From St. Nicholas’—you know, the one where the three naughty children leave out cookies and milk for Santa Claus and then wake up early the next morning to find the treats gone.
Isn’t that funny? It reminds me of how I felt when I found out my daddy died in our barn! Do you want to hear it?”
William and I exchanged glances, and he shook his head slightly. “No,” I whispered hurriedly, “not yet anyway. Let’s wait until later.”
“Okay,” said William, and then looked down into his glass. I let go of his hand and returned to my own drink. For the first time since we had come aboard, I began to worry about what we would do if William couldn’t make it to shore once we reached land. If only I knew how to get ashore myself!
***
At dawn the following day, our ship was approaching the mouth of the river. We were sailing slowly past the small island where I had spent the night, and I noticed some activity along the beach; people were running toward the water.
As we sailed closer I could see why they had been in such a hurry: a boat was anchored nearby, with a number of men and women in the rigging pulling lines. One man shouted something to the sailors at the wheel of our ship, who stopped and waited while the other boats maneuvered close enough to begin tying up to each side.
When they did so, our captain called for everyone on deck immediately, and everyone scrambled up the main stairs at the stern of the ship to stand by their duty stations.
Once everyone was ready to sail, Captain William gave the order and we cast off the ropes and set sail again, heading south along the coast. After a few hours we passed an island with white sand beaches and turquoise waters that seemed to stretch forever into the horizon.
“Look,” said William excitedly. “It’s St. Bartholomew Island!”
I looked at him curiously. “St. Barthelemy, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, I remember reading about it in history books. It’s where Christopher Columbus first landed in America.”
The island was so beautiful that I thought about asking permission to disembark to explore, but decided against it; I wanted to save that pleasure for after we left the Caribbean Sea. So instead, I kept my gaze fixed ahead as I watched for any sign of land.
Soon, however, I became impatient and wondered aloud where we were going now that we had arrived in the region where the French controlled the land.
“To Jamaica,” William replied with a laugh. “Don’t you know anything?”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a blush. “It just seems odd that you’d take us to Jamaica when we’ve been told there is no fighting.”
“Not everyone has to fight, you know,” he explained gently. “And not every soldier fights for England. Some are here simply because they want to defend their homeland and protect their families.”
“But what about you?” I asked, confused. “You’re an Englishman, aren’t you?”
He smiled warmly. “I am indeed, but that doesn’t necessarily make me a fighter. I don’t have to be in the warring to help Britain. I can serve in other ways. Like my father, for example.”
William continued to explain all this during the journey down the coast of what was now British territory. He told me all about the different types of troops stationed along the coast of Africa—British, American, and French—and how they often fought each other rather than the enemy.
As soon as we entered Jamaican waters, William sent a message to his mother to inform her of our safe arrival. His mother, a widow, had already prepared a place for me in her home on a plantation called Rose Hall. She wrote back quickly saying she would be expecting me at dinner that evening.
***
By late afternoon, we were tied up to a dock in Port Royal, Jamaica. The town, which boasted a population of over sixty thousand, was busy and vibrant, with many brightly colored buildings and shops lining both sides of the harbor. It reminded me somewhat of Plymouth, Massachusetts, and the way it was built along the water.
The sun was setting by the time we had made it through customs and were allowed to depart. I stood on deck watching as we pulled away from the docks, feeling excited about what lay before us: new faces, new experiences, and the promise of adventure.
A week later we arrived at a large plantation known as Rose Hall. We were greeted by a woman named Grace, whom I guessed to be the wife of John Jacob Astor IV. She led us across the grounds and out to the back porch, where she introduced me to several of the servants in the house.
One of them, a dark-haired beauty named Mary, was assigned to tend to my needs. When I saw how young she was—only eighteen or nineteen years old—I felt guilty about the advances that had been made by William’s older brother Tom earlier in the day.
If only I had listened more closely to Mrs. Deveridge! But I knew what happened between two men who liked one another wasn’t wrong…it just made sense.
We chatted pleasantly for some time, but eventually, our conversation came to a natural end. As we said goodbye, Grace thanked me for coming. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she added, “I hope you will enjoy your stay here. And if there’s ever anything else we can do for you—”
She paused suddenly and glanced at my hair, which was still wet from the ocean air. A smile crossed her face. “Oh, dear,” she exclaimed, then stepped closer and took both of my hands in hers. “I forgot! You haven’t yet had a chance to bathe!”
She turned and went inside the house without waiting to hear my response. Before I could wonder why I had been summoned, Mary walked over and handed me a small bag.
“Your clothes should fit you well enough,” she said with a grin. “But if you need anything else, just come find me.” Then she left the porch in search of the bathroom herself.
I sat down and opened the bag, revealing two pairs of pants and shirts of different colors. I pulled on the first pair of gray trousers, and then pulled on the second pair of blue trousers. The shirt was white and fitted, but not too tight like the one I had worn to meet Mr. Deveridge, so I assumed it belonged to William.
Then I put on a red linen jacket and a white shirt underneath—both of which smelled freshly laundered. After combing my short black hair into a tidy ponytail, I was ready to go.
I was almost halfway around the house when I heard a voice behind me say, “Here comes trouble.”
Startled, I spun around to see Tom standing near the steps leading up to the main house.
He didn’t appear to be armed, which was good—but he certainly looked angry. His eyes were narrowed in fury, and his face was twisted into a scowl as he stared at me.
I gulped, but forced myself to stand my ground. “Hello, Tom,” I said calmly. “Good to see you again.”
He ignored me and marched straight toward me, fists clenched and eyes blazing with rage. “What do you think you’re doing here?” he demanded as soon as he reached me.
I raised a finger to my lips—as though he would understand that gesture. “Shh!” I whispered urgently, then held up two fingers and pointed them at him. “Two weeks!” I mimicked, trying to keep a straight face as I spoke. “You are not the only person on this island!” I pretended to look around suspiciously. “Who is watching you? There must be someone watching you, right?”
Tom stared at me blankly, then burst out laughing and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it. Once he regained control of himself, he wiped a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his jacket.
“Ha ha, very funny!” he exclaimed, then grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He pecked me hard on the cheek. “Welcome home, Jacky,” he said, then slapped me on the back and laughed loudly. “And thanks for the clothes, Mary.”
Mary had disappeared somewhere inside the house, leaving Tom and me alone together.
“Why did you kiss me?” I asked in a soft voice.
His expression hardened once more. “Because I’m going to kill you,” he said simply, then turned away abruptly.
As he climbed the steps up to the front door, I tried to make a break for it. But before I’d taken three steps, Mary returned with an open suitcase in her arms.
“There you go, Jack,” she said, setting the bag down next to me. Then she gave me a friendly wink and said, “You know where to find me.”
The End