13
July 21st, 1737
This morning, Maria was in a fuss in that way she had, telling Christian exactly what was on her mind. Felix crept behind a leather trunk to have a listen. He took great care to remain unseen, especially by Maria. You wouldn’t want to provoke her, to cross her or speak out of turn. Not that he was all that interested in anything Maria might have to say to Christian, but he was already bored and it was only nine in the morning. Then he heard Anna’s name and his ears perked up.
It seemed that Maria didn’t like the turn things seemed to be taking between Anna and Bairn.
“Cut to the cackle. What exactly is your point, Maria?” Christian said, because she was going on and on, no end in sight.
“Love.”
“Love?” Christian echoed.
“Anna might be falling in love with him,” Maria said. “That carpenter is a stranger, not one of us. An unholy and proud man. We don’t know a thing about him. They’re spending altogether too much time together and you started it.”
“All this interpreting and translating keeps throwing them together. It troubles me, Christian. She’s desperate to find a man by now—poor girl, after all, she’s nearing twenty. But she must hold out for somebody else. Somebody right.”
“Who?” Christian said in his longsuffering way. “There is no one else.”
“Exactly. This is why she needs our help. You need to intervene, before it’s too late.”
Christian’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You think it’s that serious? Maybe you’re mistaken. Maybe he doesn’t want to marry her at all.”
“And that’s another worry.” Maria adjusted her shawls to cover her expansive middle. No one, Felix thought, could ever call Maria a dainty woman. “Anna’s grandmother gave me the responsibility to watch over her. There’s a problem brewing and we need to solve it.”
“Oh for pity’s sake, Maria. Perhaps it’s not a problem at all. Perhaps you’ve created something out of nothing.” He blinked through his spectacles and fingered his long beard. “Anna has always displayed a great deal of common sense. She knows how to conduct herself.”
Maria snapped her fingers in the dusty air. “Men don’t know about these things. Christian, something must be done before things go any further between that carpenter and our Anna. It must be stopped.” She pointed to him. “And you are the minister. It is your duty to protect our Anna from a life of wicked debauchery.”
Felix crept back behind the trunk before he could see Christian’s reaction to that order from his bossy, know-it-all wife. Felix didn’t think anything should be stopped between Anna and Bairn. He liked Bairn, quite a bit. But then Squinty-Eye’s awful dog spotted him and started across the aisle toward him, toenails tapping on the wooden planks, letting the whole world know about his hiding spot. Felix reached into his pocket and tossed a piece of hardtack to the dog, distracting him just long enough to scoot away and head over to the stairs to go above deck, and all thoughts of Anna and Bairn slipped away.
Felix may not be able to speak English quickly and fluidly, but he could understand much of what was said. Especially what the sailors said. Some shook their heads north and south at him, some shook their heads east and west. There were others who simply pointed him to the hatch. The time he spent above deck greatly expanded his vocabulary, mostly with words that would horrify his mother and sorrow his father.
Even if one of the sailors sent him back down the companionway, which they did quite often, he much preferred that insult to watching Catrina and her little sisters play tag around the lower deck.
After the midday meal, Christian found Felix and asked to be led to the carpentry shop. Squinty-Eye’s awful dog came along, uninvited. They stood at the door, waiting quietly until Bairn noticed them. Christian had something to say to Bairn and needed someone to translate, which made Felix feel very important. Bairn looked up, surprised at the sight of the two of them at his door, and invited them to come in. He offered seats on upturned nail kegs, but Christian declined.
Felix cleared his throat. He was here on official business as translator for Christian, and his chest stretched with pleasure, though he had no idea what was on the minister’s mind. He hoped it had something to do with increasing the quantity of food the passengers were given. Hunger rumbled in his stomach and he crossed his arms against his middle to stifle the growling sounds. “Christian Müller has a ting to tell you.”
Christian took off his hat and paused, with his hand resting on the crown of the hat, as if he had to collect his thoughts and carefully choose his words. When he lifted his head, he was very much the church minister, his eyes all solemn, his mouth stern. Felix knew that look well. As the minister, it was Christian’s duty to be sure everyone followed the straight and narrow way and conformed to what it meant to be a church member. He began to speak in their dialect, expecting Felix to interpret. “I am here to tell you to keep your distance from Anna.”
Bairn tilted his head, confused.
Felix looked from Christian to Bairn, thinking fast. “Christian says Anna likes her new shoes.”
Bairn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
Christian continued. “You are not of our faith. You will lead her down a path to the wicked world and all the evil that’s in it.” He motioned to Felix to translate.
“He vants you to be happy and live a long life.”
Bairn looked at Felix as if he could not bring himself to believe him. “Herr Müller—”
“Christian. Call me Christian.” His head jerked up and around as if he was pointing around the shop with his beard. “A relationship with those who are not of our faith can only bring dishonor.” He glanced at Felix to translate.
“Call him Christian, he says. He vants you to . . .” He searched for the right words, and then a brilliant idea popped into his head. “He vants you to teach me all about ships, so I can be a sailor one day.”
Christian stared at Bairn, his face settling into deep lines, and Bairn stared back, his head held high, erect. “Truly?” Bairn’s glance traveled from Christian to Felix and back to Christian. “This is truly what he wants?”
“Truly,” Felix said, nodding vigorously.
Christian nodded, pleased. “Do you understand what I have asked?” His arm swept in a half-arc, to indicate all that he was insinuating with his request. To stay away from Anna and not tempt her to a life apart from the straight and narrow way.
Felix was just warming up. He was enjoying himself. “He vants to know if you are in need of a helper. An apprentice.” He swept his arm in a big arc, just like Christian had. “For yer shop.”
Bairn nodded. “I do.”
“He does,” Felix told Christian in the dialect.
“Then I expect you to abide by my request.” Christian clasped his hands together. “For the rest of the journey, you must do your best to avoid her, unless it is a matter of communication between the passengers and the ship’s officers.”
“He vants me to vork for you. Any time.” Felix clasped his hands together. “I can be helper. For free.” He tried, but failed, to keep his gaze from drifting toward Bairn, not quite sure how the carpenter would receive this bold offer.
Bairn was watching the two of them with a thoughtful look on his face. The only change, Felix noted, was that his eyes grew as cold and gray as the sea beneath the Charming Nancy.
Slowly, Bairn dipped his chin to give a nod of approval.
That was all Christian wanted, and he let out a breath of relief. “Excellent.” He nodded to Bairn, put his hat back on his head, and left the small shop.
Felix gave Bairn a salute goodbye, just like he had seen the sailors give to the captain, and broke into a jog behind Christian to keep up with his long strides, grinning ear to ear. The awful dog trotted at his heels.
What just happened? Bairn sat back on the barrel top, flummoxed. Felix had ignored the unsuspecting minister’s words and fed him lines of malarkey, his eyes wide and round and innocent. He’d have thought the boy to look like a living angel if he didn’t know better. But he did. What that sly scamp didn’t realize was that Bairn could make out Christian’s intent.
He crossed his arms against his chest. How dare that Peculiar minister, with his spectacles perched primly on his nose, work-worn hands folded like he was praying, order him to stay away from Anna. As if his intentions were not honorable! After all the girls in all the seaports, the one girl for whom his intentions were nothing but honorable was the one he’d been warned away from. Intentions? Frankly, he had no intentions regarding Anna at all. She was nothing to him, a mere distraction during the tedious delays of waiting for the ship to be watered and wooded in Plymouth.
Perhaps he did admire the girl. But admiring someone didn’t mean he had intentions toward her.
And what would Anna have to say if she knew what Christian had to say? And if she knew what Felix had been up to? He grinned, thinking of the tongue-lashing he would receive if she knew. But she must never know. The last thing Bairn wanted was to have Felix kept away from him—he was partial to the laddie. Besides, Christian’s request was a ludicrous one to make on a tiny, confined ship. The lassie needed fresh air and sunshine. He would never stop her from coming above deck. Why should he?
Keep away from Anna, he scoffed. As if I had any more than a passin’ flirtation for a Peculiar girl. Keep away from Anna? Not a problem.
He walked to the galley to see if Cook had any hot water to spare. As he did, a crushing awareness came over him, a burden of guilt. Christian Müller was right. Bairn was tainted by the world, by wickedness and evil. By what he’d seen and certainly what he’d done. He didn’t deserve the attentions of someone like Anna. She was pure and wise and good.
Had his life carried on the way it had begun, had there not been a dramatic upheaval that altered his universe completely and permanently, someone like Anna would have been his. But his life did take a dramatic turn, a before and an after, and he wasn’t the same person. He was forever changed.
He’d discovered one thing of importance during what he’d come to think of as his time of survival. He would make his own way, find his own route to happiness. He would never again let himself depend on people, not on a woman, not even the captains, nor on anyone else. He would survive, and he would do it on his own.
He found the galley empty and the kettle simmering on the furnace. He took a long-legged stride back down the deck toward his small carpentry shop, holding the kettle of hot water with a rag, pondering Christian’s request. He wondered what made him think there was something brewing between him and Anna. Had she said something about him? Had Felix told him about the shoes?
Nay. It probably had more to do with that meddlesome wife of his. Hadn’t Felix told him the minister’s wife was on a mission to see that Anna meet and marry a worthy Peculiar? Bairn was about as far from being a worthy Peculiar as a man could be. It was a thought that should have made him grin, but instead, it gave him a sense of inferiority, of loneliness and self-doubt, as if he had lost something precious and didn’t know how to reclaim it. He agreed with the minister about one thing: he needed to distance himself from that girl, starting now . . .
As he crossed the threshold, he stopped abruptly. Heat climbed up his neck. Anna stood in the middle of his shop and all words and thoughts dropped out of his mind.
Anna’s gaze roamed slowly from the tools hanging tidily on the wall to the barrels that held up the workbench, to the tall carpenter that filled the door space, feet spraddled wide as if against a heavy wind. With his fancy coat removed and his sleeves rolled back to reveal his strong forearms, his white shirt tucked loosely into his trousers, he was as fetching a sight as any she’d ever seen. Her breath caught. He looked so right standing there.
She held out her palms. “I found these in Felix’s pockets.” Handfuls of tacks. “I was concerned he might have taken them without permission. He can be . . . dishonest in small ways.”
“A pettifogger in the makin’?” A corner of Bairn’s mouth lifted. “Nay, he was cleanin’ the floor of me shop and asked if he could keep them.”
“If he were to keep them, I fear Catrina Müller would find herself sitting on them at an inopportune moment.”
Now a full grin spread across Bairn’s face. “I’ve heard him bring up that name once or twice.” He walked around her to his workbench. “Ne’er with much fondness.”
He nearly surprised a smile out of her, the way he took note of people. She set the tacks in a pile on top of his workbench. She smoothed out her apron and said in a quiet voice, “I thought perhaps you might want to join us for church tomorrow. Christian is holding a special service.” She saw him stiffen and regretted her words. She had felt so happy about how the ship weathered the storm, about how the cracked beam had been fixed, and the thought occurred to invite him to church to thank God for what He had done. She’d had plenty of time to think down below. It seemed right to invite him to church, but now, it seemed like she had made a terrible mistake. The silence stretched long and uncomfortable. Why had she come? She shouldn’t have come.
Bairn turned away from her and set the hot kettle on two bricks, letting her words and her smile hang suspended in the air, until they both began to fade. “What makes you think I’d want to go to yer preachin’?”
“So that you can come to know us, to see how we are, what we’re like.”
He picked up the kettle and poured the water into a barrel, his face an impassive mask.
“Why do you put hot water in the barrel?”
“Dried-out barrels will leak when they’re first filled with liquid. Addin’ hot water is a quick way to get the wood to swell so the joints become watertight.” He set the kettle back on the bricks and looked up at her. “I ken more than you give me credit for. I ken enough about yer people to know I would nae be welcomed.”
She couldn’t deny the truth of that. What purpose would it serve for him to know their ways when he could never be one of them? “I suppose I thought it would be an opportunity for you to gather with us to worship God. To thank Him for delivering us through the storm.”
His gaze lifted from his workbench to her face, and she saw something in his eyes, a sort of wary pride. “I have nothin’ at all to do with God.”
“You may think so, but God has everything to do with you.”
He blushed red as a beetroot, but he answered coolly enough. “Y’know nothin’ at all about me.”
“I know enough,” she said gently. “I know you are not the unfeeling man you would like people to believe you are.” She dipped her chin. “And I know you need to make peace with God.”
His head rocked back a little, as if he’d just been slapped. “Are all Peculiar lasses like you? Bold tongued and bossy?”
“No, not most. But some.” She lifted her head and looked out the tiny window. Sun wash flooded through the window, limning the floorboards with planes and angles. “My bold tongue has always been my weakness.”
He said nothing. Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to his workbench and picked up a barrel stave. She wondered if he had a response to give her, but he kept his head down, silently shaving the stave with an adze. She should leave. She should. She knew her curiosity didn’t excuse her staring or prying. She should have kept her curiosity to herself; she should not stare at his long black eyelashes and tanned skin. But before she had a chance to look away, he caught her staring at him.
“What?” He spoke calmly.
“What is it you want, Bairn? Out of life?”
He sat down on a barrel and laced his fingers behind his head. “To be captain of me own ship one day. Don’t misunderstand. I’m loyal to Captain Stedman.” He cast her a sly grin. “I’m a completely loyal man. Entirely devoted to me own interests.”
“Why do you want to be captain?”
“To be rich.”
“And then what?”
“What more is there?” His mouth took on that teasing look of his. “Surely even you can understand a man’s desire to seek wealth. Isn’t that what yer all doing by goin’ to America? Y’said you want to own land, didn’t you? I suspect it’s the finest land yer pious church leaders are after. To get it before it’s gone.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But it’s not our way to take pride in one’s own worldly possessions, nor to covet those of others.”
“But yer fine morals won’t stop you from grabbin’ the best land. To claim it and tame it.”
A silence came between them, and he regarded her with inquiring eyes, his head slightly tilted, as if he was waiting for her to defend her people, but of course she wouldn’t. He didn’t understand. It hurt her to hear the bitterness in his voice, the hard assumption that their faith didn’t set them apart, that they were just like everyone else. She struggled to find words to fill the silence and break the uneasiness that lay between them.
She turned and started toward the door, when suddenly he bolted around the bench, blocking her exit. “Anna, wait.” He was looking down at her, his face serious. Time seemed to slow into a breathless stillness, and Anna thought she could hear her own heart beat. She stood too close to him, close enough for her to smell the scent of sandalwood, close enough that she noticed a smallpox scar on his right temple.
He raised one hand, tracing the path of her chin with the back of his hand.
The way he touched her, the lazy afternoon light streaming in the window, the silence in the air—the setting suddenly felt too intimate. She backed up a step, withdrawing to a safe distance, and wiped her damp palms on her apron. She couldn’t let this man with those compelling and mysterious gray eyes think she thought a thing about him. Because she didn’t. Hardly at all. Maybe once or twice. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”
She was almost out the door when she heard him call her name.
“Anna, they dinnae want me. They’ll whisper to each other in that peasant dialect and you’ll be the one they whisper about.”
She spun around. In the dimming light of the day, his face was awash with concern, doubt, maybe even a bit of frustration. “You underestimate my people.”
Then he said, “Mayhap I’ll come. Not tomorrow, but before we reach Port Philadelphia, mayhap I’ll come to yer preachin’ one Sunday morn.”