Zachery couldn’t believe the predicament he’d gotten himself into. Not only did he have three extra runaways on board, for a total of seven, but now he had a Southern belle taking up his quarters. He rubbed the back of his neck. “How’d that happen?”
“Cap?” his first mate questioned.
“Just mumbling.”
Frank laughed. “You’ve been doing that a lot since we left Savannah.”
“Don’t remind me.” Zach looked over his map and took his readings. “Two more hours until we hit Port Royal.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what I figure. Tides running with us.”
Zach nodded. “I’d better go to my quarters and see if Miss Kimbrel is in need of anything.”
Frank snickered. “Better you than me.”
“You’ll have Charlotte duty tomorrow.”
“She ain’t bad to look at but…can I swab the decks instead?”
“You mean I’m stuck with this duty?”
“You’re the captain.” Frank whistled and focused on the compass heading. He’d been Zach’s first mate for the past year and a half. They worked well together, and Zach could trust him with any task at hand.
Zach headed to his quarters and knocked on the door. “Miss Charlotte?”
“I’ll be right there,” she answered through the closed door. The ship shifted to starboard. Zach glanced back at Frank. He nodded and continued sailing toward Port Royal. He stood on his tiptoes to see what Frank was avoiding. Spotting nothing, he focused on the door opening in front of him. Her pale blue eyes stared into his for a moment. He cleared his throat. “I’ve come to let you know we’ll be stopping in Port Royal for a couple hours. If you’d like to stretch your legs.”
“Thank you, Captain.” She stepped back into his room and closed the door. Zach didn’t know if that meant she would be getting off the ship or not.
He shook his head. She was beautiful, but she had a mind of her own. He turned and headed back to the helm. “What was that jolt for?”
“Porpoise. You know I love sailing with them.” Frank laughed.
Zach took the helm. “Get the cargo ready for delivery,” he ordered. Frank left, and Zach focused on the compass and the various landmasses. Port Royal was actually an island in the middle of Port Royal Sound, with Hilton Head Island on the south and Philips Island to the north of the entrance. To reach the port for Beaufort, South Carolina, he’d travel farther up the river. But since Port Royal served his purpose, he didn’t need to go farther, and his destination to the north was a higher priority. The large marsh and grassy fields extended into the bay, but a good navigator had no trouble going around them.
As they made it to the island, Zach sailed past the fishery docks and on to the cargo area. One of his runaways had family in town and wanted to get a message to them. Zach found an excuse to pick up some oysters. Word had it that good oysters could be found in Port Royal. Not to mention, he had four additional passengers to feed on this voyage.
Onshore he found some canned oysters and bought several cases to bring north and a bushel of fresh ones for his men and their trip north. He also purchased a thousand pounds of rice. Stores in the North would be running low. Of course, most Northerners preferred the potato. He checked over the inventory to see if there was anything else he wouldn’t be bringing north for a while. “Indigo. I’d like ten pounds of that, please.” The salesman smiled, obviously happy for additional sales. “You are certain you want forty-five hundred grams?”
“Yes, please. I have a textile company who will be glad to have the brilliant blues made from it.”
The salesman nodded and went to work wrapping ten pounds in one-pound packages of brown paper and sealing them with string. The smaller packages would make it easier to sell.
The door to the warehouse opened. Miss Kimbrel entered. “May I help you, miss? This isn’t the place for a lady. If you walk down Paris Avenue, you’ll find a mercantile more to your liking,” the merchant offered.
“Do I have time, Captain?” She glanced at him with her piercing blue eyes.
Zach nodded. “Certainly. I’ll have one of my men fetch you if we are ready to depart before you return.”
“Thank you.” She exited the warehouse, and the merchant looked at him. “She’s a passenger?”
“Yup. I’m bunking with my mates.”
The man laughed and finished packing up the indigo. “Enjoy your voyage.” He wagged his head. “Ain’t no place for women on a working man’s vessel. Your men don’t mind a woman being on board?”
“They haven’t quit yet.”
He nodded and went back to his inventory.
Once everything was loaded and Miss Kimbrel wasn’t back, Zach started to ask Jake, one of his men, to go fetch her. Zach spotted her marching down the street, her skirt fluttering behind and being forced forward as she took elongated steps toward the ship.
Zach rubbed his face with his handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Never mind, Jake. She’s a-coming.”
“I can see that, sir. All I can say is I’m glad she stayed in your cabin. Ain’t right to have women on board a working vessel.”
“I know, but, well, I can’t explain it, but she needed this trip as much as some of our other passengers.”
Jake nodded and went back to work. Once Miss Kimbrel was on board, the ship departed. Zach piloted the Lady Grace out of Port Royal Bay. After they were past the outer islands, he set their course north and gave Frank the helm. Out to sea, they could let the slaves out of hiding and give them freedom to roam the decks. If, however, a ship approached, the signal was given, and they went back in hiding. Bales of cotton stacked to appear to be more than there were made for an excellent hiding place.
The first day of sail out of Port Royal was uneventful. A storm blew in the next morning.
Charlotte held her stomach. It rolled and flipped with the rocking of the boat. She needed fresh air. But she didn’t feel safe roaming the ship. Why, she wasn’t certain. She felt safer in the captain’s quarters. The room was lined with wooden shelves, a desk, a bed, and a nightstand. There was also a small table and chairs for the captain’s meals, she presumed. The room had no feminine touches, and it spoke volumes about Captain Browne’s tastes in literature and art.
The ship bucked to the right, or starboard, or whatever side of the ship it was. She turned herself around and faced the door to the room. Port, the left side of the ship. Left has four letters, so does port. Charlotte decided she could remember it that way—she hoped.
Her stomach rolled with the next wave. She turned around and walked toward the stern of the ship, where a couple of windows faced where they’d been. The angry ocean rolled. Rain spat against the windows. Surf splashed against them as well. Or maybe it wasn’t the surf because they were higher up, weren’t they? Charlotte didn’t know. She’d never traveled by ocean before. Only by train, and that was limited to two trips up to Augusta with her entire family. Father wasn’t a traveler. Mother enjoyed traveling, but Father ruled the roost. Her heart cinched knowing her parents would be worried. She’d mailed a letter in Port Royal to her parents, explaining she’d left Savannah to travel the country up to New York and she might possibly take a trip to Europe. She would mail them as soon as she arrived. She hoped and prayed that her parents wouldn’t put together that she’d left on Captain Browne’s ship. Then again, it would be a logical assumption. Father God, please do not let any harm come to Captain Browne because he granted me passage on his ship.
A ray of sunshine split the clouds but was immediately swallowed up by the thick gray clouds. Charlotte smiled, confident that God would honor her prayers.
A loud bang rumbled the door in its frame. Charlotte carefully went to open the door. A sailor dressed in drenched oilskins stood there and nodded. “Miss Kimbrel, the captain said to stay in your cabin. It is not fit for you to be walking on the decks.”
Charlotte snickered then nodded.
“Someone will bring you food later.”
The thought of eating turned her stomach. She was certain she turned a shade of green. “Just broth would be nice.”
He nodded and grabbed hold of the rail. Charlotte closed the door as she heard Captain Browne call out to drop sheets. Sheets? She peeked out and saw the sailors lowering the sails farther. So sheets were sails, hmm. Maybe by the completion of the voyage, she’d understand the sailors’ language.
A few unseemly words wafted through the storm. Perhaps not all their language, she mused. She closed the door and settled back inside the cabin. Her best bet was to lie down or sit and read. She sat down and opened her Bible. The words seemed to roll with the ship. She closed the Bible and lay down on the bed.
As the ship calmed, Charlotte woke from her nap. She glanced at the wall clock. She’d been asleep for hours. She jumped out of bed, straightened her clothing, and opened the door. The ship was active with sailors scurrying around on the decks. The runaway slaves were on the deck too. She glanced at their hiding place. It was secure. One of the men glanced at her then looked above her to the area where the captain navigated the ship. She stepped out.
“Good afternoon, Miss Charlotte.” Captain Browne’s voice flowed over her raw nerves like honey.
“Good afternoon, Captain. How bad was the storm?”
He shrugged. “Not that bad. We might be in for some weather again, so I suggest you get some fresh air while you can. If you don’t mind, I need to gather some dry clothing from my quarters.”
She thought he’d removed his clothing the first day. Perhaps not enough. “Of course not, it is your room. Thank you again for letting me stay in there.”
He bent at the waist. “My pleasure, miss.” He reached to take her hand but didn’t. He stood and tipped the brim of his hat. “Enjoy the calm, miss.” He slipped to her side and stepped past her and into his room.
Charlotte grabbed hold of the railing and calmed herself. She wasn’t here to fall in love. She was here for freedom. But what did that mean? Where would it take her? What would she do?
Zach gathered another pair of wool pants and a coat from his closet in his quarters. He scanned the room and sniffed. It had a pleasant floral odor. He couldn’t place the fragrance but knew it came from one of her perfumes or powders. Women were always fussing to make themselves more beautiful. His mind drifted out of the room and to the railing where he had left Miss Charlotte. His heart quickened. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. She was beautiful, but she was born the daughter of a plantation owner. He had nothing to offer a woman of her station. Yet he was a captain. The rank was honored among certain people of society.
He had humble roots. Granted, his father had land and a few acres set aside for him and his family to farm one day. But how does a captain farm? Mother did most of the work. Miss Charlotte had slaves to work for her. She wouldn’t know the first thing about fending for herself or her family.
Zach shook off such ill-conceived thoughts. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she cared for the slaves she helped escape, but…
He closed his eyes for a moment then gathered his clothing and left his quarters. She stood at the rail in virtually the same position. “Miss Charlotte?”
She turned. Tears trailed down her face. He stepped closer. “Can I help you?” His heart went out to her. He didn’t understand her tears, but he never really did understand when women cried. He just felt helpless and wanted to help.
She shook her head and looked down at her feet. Her boots were the same pair she had worn when she arrived at the dock in Savannah.
“Was it the storm?”
“No, Captain. The storm was not good for my stomach, but I am wondering what I shall do when I arrive in the North. I am not trained. I was raised to be a hostess, to run a household, take care of the house slaves, and I had looked forward to having my own family one day. Now I shall not have any of those things. I pray I shall find good and honorable work. Perhaps I was rash leaving my parents’ home as I did.”
Zach paused for a moment. She was rash. But then again, he didn’t like the idea of her being subjected to marriage to a man she did not care for all because she held different opinions than her parents. “I cannot answer those questions, but I will pray for you and for God’s guidance.”
She smiled. His heart fluttered. What was the hold this woman had over his heart?
“Thank you, Captain. Again, I apologize for any inconvenience I am to you, your ship, and crew.”
“Nothing to mention, Miss Charlotte. Pray for guidance. The Lord will direct your path.”
She nodded and turned back to the railing and scanned the deck.
“Good day, Miss Charlotte.” He left her there, not knowing what to do or say. She certainly was in quite a predicament. What would the owners of the vessel say about my extra passenger? Zach squared his shoulders. He’d deal with that when the time came. “Do not worry about tomorrow” floated through his mind as he recalled Jesus’ teaching from his Bible reading and Sunday school. Obviously God cared more than enough to take care of Miss Charlotte once she arrived up north. But she was correct. Without skills, she would find work difficult and low paying. Zach said another prayer for Charlotte Kimbrel and slipped into the men’s quarters to change from his wet clothing into the fresh outfit. He knew most of the men would be working in their wet clothes for another hour. He needed to maintain focus and keep healthy in order to secure safe passage for his men, their cargo, and the runaway slaves, who faced challenges similar to Charlotte’s. But the runaways had skills and trades to fall back on. What would a Southern belle be capable of?
Based on what little he’d seen over the years, not much. They were to appear pretty but let their slaves do all the hard work. He thought back on Charlotte’s hands, silky smooth, not the hands of a laborer. Zach fired up another prayer for Charlotte. How was she going to survive?