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When Marin descended the stairs early Monday morning, he found everyone sitting in the parlor smartly dressed, even Phoebe, looking uncomfortably proper, draped in one of Opaline’s dresses that had obviously been hemmed in quick fashion. Phillipe, of course, donned in his clerical best, and Opaline, adorned in a white Chemise a la Reine dress with a baby blue waist ribbon; her tightly curled tresses draped innocently down the curved neckline.
“And where, may I ask, do each of you assume you are off to this morning?” Marin asked.
“Please tell me you are not going to appear in court dressed like that,” Phillipe blurted out.
“And what is wrong with the way I am dressed?” Marin asked.”
“Marin ...you are to appear before a magistrate.”
“And?”
“Do you imagine him dressed like a commoner?”
“Should I wear a robe then?” Marin quipped. “Look, I appreciate everyone wanting to support me by attending this hearing, but I would rather you not; it promises to be an unpleasant and repugnant affair.”
No one responded.
“Opaline?” he pleaded.
She looked at each of them, one at a time, and then pronounced, “I trust everyone in this room as regards my past.”
***
Arriving at the Newport Courthouse, Phillipe, Opaline and Phoebe took seats at the front of the gallery. Marin saw Talmadge Berry alongside his lawyer, Alfred Brentworth Stanley, sitting at a table to the right, inside the bar. He assumed that the table to the left was his, so he sat down and placed his folded hands upon the otherwise bare table. An elderly gentleman came through the gate at the bar and delivered a stack of papers to Mister Berry’s table. His lawyer sorted through them and added them to the copious pile of other assorted papers and files.
The Bailiff, a compact little man, entered the well and announced in a particularly thin voice, “All rise.”
Everyone stood as the Judge, The Honorable Abraham Gladstone, entered the courtroom and took his seat at the bench.
“You may be seated,” the small man squeaked.
The Judge sorted through a few papers on his bench, and then asked, “Is Mister Talmadge Berry present?”
Talmadge stood up and said, “Present, your Honor.”
“And the gentleman with you, I recognize as Mister Alfred Brentworth Stanley, Esquire.”
Mister Stanley stood and nodded respectively to the Judge.
“You do understand, do you not, Mister Berry, that while Mister Stanley may operate as your council, he may not otherwise have voice in this proceeding?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Talmadge said.
“Is the Captain, Mister Marin Carpenter, present?”
Marin stood and said, “Present, Your Honor.”
“How would you prefer the court address you, sir? As Captain or Mister Carpenter?”
“Mister Carpenter will suffice, Your Honor.”
“I must say, you keep a very neat table, Mister Carpenter,” the Judge commented, in jest.
Marin pointed to his own head, and said, “I have my defense well sorted, Your Honor.”
The Judge smiled, and said, “Very well, then let us proceed.”
After oaths were taken, the Judge addressed Mister Berry, saying, “Mister Berry, you will stand and address the court as to the charges, and present the evidence you have brought forth concerning Mister Marin Carpenter.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Talmadge began. “I charge that, on the Seventeenth of December, in the year of Our Lord, Eighteen Hundred and Eleven, in the fair city of Warwick, Rhode Island, Mister Marin Carpenter did, without provocation, and with malice aforethought, intentionally assault me, resulting in damages in the amount of ...well I have documentation here, if I may approach the bench and present it to the court.”
“You may,” the Judge replied.
Talmadge approached the bench and handed the Judge a stack of papers.
The Judge perused the presented material, and asked Marin, “Mister Carpenter, have you been presented with, or had the opportunity to see, these invoices?”
“I have not, Your Honor.”
“So, Mister Berry, you have not approached Mister Carpenter in an attempt to give him the opportunity to either pay, or refuse to pay, these charges before bringing this suit before the court?
Talmadge turned to his council, and the two quietly discussed the matter. “Your Honor, I originally filed criminal charges against Mister Carpenter for Assault and Battery. On advice from my council, I changed the charges to a Civil Suit for damages.”
“But you just stated that Mister Carpenter did, without provocation, and with malice aforethought, assault you, did you not?”
“I did, your Honor. But I wish only to recover the damages incurred as a result of the assault.”
“I must say, Mister Berry, I find that peculiar. Mister Carpenter, would you approach the bench?”
Marin walked to the bench, and the Judge handed him the stack of papers that Talmadge had presented to the Judge. “I would like for you to look these over, Mister Carpenter. Court will be adjourned for five minutes. Mister Stanley, may I see you in my Chambers?”
Marin returned to his table and looked through the invoices. They included:
1. A new suit of clothes from Hanover Clothier in New York, in the amount of Eight Hundred and Sixty Dollars and Twelve Cents, (this included the cost of travel, to and from, and lodging required, while in New York).
2. A new Cabriolet carriage from Hobart & Couth, Boston Massachusetts, costing, Seventeen Hundred and Seventy- Five Dollars.
3. A veterinary bill from Doctor James Whitworth, Warwick, Rhode Island, for One Hundred Thirty-Two Dollars and Eighty-Five Cents.
4. A bill from a Mister P.W. Madison, Barber/Surgeon for Thirty-Two Dollars.
5. A bill from Mister Alfred Brentworth Stanley, in the sum of Two Hundred and Fifty Dollars, for legal counsel.
Marin looked at the total damages in the amount of Three Thousand and Forty- Nine Dollars and Ninety-Seven cents, turned to look at Talmadge, and tossed the invoices aside.
Mister Stanley re-entered courtroom, his confidence somewhat wrinkled. Then, the smallish bailiff entered and gathered the papers from Marin, and returned them to the bench.
“All rise,” he shrilled.
The judge returned and glared at Mister Berry while addressing Mister Carpenter.
“Mister Carpenter, are you aware of the seriousness of Mister Berry’s allegation, and that these damages were the result of an assault on your part?”
He then turned to Marin for an answer.
“I am aware of the legal consequences of assaulting someone, Your Honor, but I do not—”
“Are you further aware that this court can charge you with Assault and Battery, independent of the Civil Charges Mister Berry has brought forth?”
“Yes, Your Honor. A solicitor, Mister Echo Harter, explained that to me.”
“Echo Harter?” the Judge said, with a broad smile. “I went to school with Echo Harter. How is my old friend?”
“I would imagine he is fine, Your Honor.”
“How is it you know Mister Harter? I thought he practiced law in Philadelphia?”
“I am not well acquainted with Mister Harter, Your Honor. I have only met with him one time, and that meeting was brief. He is a friend of my fiancée.”
“Well, should you see him again, please tell him Judge Gladstone says, ‘Hello’”
“I will, Your Honor.”
“I will now hear your opening statement, Mister Carpenter.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. As Mister Berry said, on the Seventeenth of December of this year in Warwick, Rhode Island, I did, in fact, strike Mister Berry. As a matter of fact, I wrenched him from his carriage and sent him face down into the street. What Mister Berry failed to tell the court is that I witnessed Mister Berry backhand my fiancée prior to my actions against him. My actions were in her defense, Your Honor.
“Is this true, Mister Berry?”
“Yes, Your Honor. What Mister Carpenter has removed from his testimony, is the fact that his, so called fiancée, spit on me prior to my actions against her.”
“And did you witness this act as well, Mister Carpenter?” the Judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And can you tell the court what may have prompted your fiancé to spit on the Plaintiff?”
“It is my understanding that Mister Berry called her a whore.”
“Did you witness this, Mister Carpenter?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Mister Berry, did you refer to the lady in question as a whore?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I did. She is a whore.”
The Judge canted back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Mister Berry,” he said with restraint, “were I you, I would tread lightly here. For unless you can offer proof of the lady’s social status, I will have to find you culpable, by way of slander, and find for Mister Carpenter.”
“I can, Your Honor,” Talmadge pronounced confidently.
“Proceed then, Mister Berry.”
“If it please the Court, the woman in question is a Miss Opaline Downing, whose presence in court I could—”
“That is not necessary, Mister Berry,” the Judge interrupted.
“Very well, Your Honor. I first came to know of the woman known as Opaline Downing, as early as the spring of this year. My brother, Doctor Jonathan Berry of Philadelphia, returned home to advise our father, Mister Ovid Berry, the much-respected Officer of the Court of Newport, Rhode Island and Council to Mister Thomas Hamm, that he, Jonathan, intended to marry Miss Downing. My father, thereupon, hired a retired police officer, a Mister Alowishus Ruffington, to look into Miss Downing’s past.”
Talmadge paused to pick up a few pieces of paper before continuing.
“I refer now to his report,” Talmadge said, “a copy of which is before you, Your Honor.
“Miss Opaline Downing was born to a Miss Nelle Cassidy, a common street whore in Philadelphia, circa 1780. The exact day is not known, Your Honor, but it is believed to be sometime in the latter days of December.”
“The exact date is of little interest to the court, Mister Berry,” the Judge said.
“Yes, your honor. Miss Downing took her surname from a Mister and Missus Evin Downing, Missus Downing being the midwife who delivered her. The couple took pity on the waif, and took her in, in an attempt to salvage the child.”
“Mister Berry,” the Judge intervened, “it is enough to say simply, they raised and cared for the child.”
“Well, they attempted to, Your Honor. At the age of thirteen, little Miss Downing showed her gratitude by running away from this safe harbor and living on the streets of Philadelphia, in a depraved and dissolute section referred to as, Helltown. She prowled these squalid streets for a period of two years, engaging in what any well-informed person would presume to be the type of sordid activities typical of all delinquent street urchins of the female variety.”
“And precisely what activities would that be, Mister Berry?” the Judge challenged.
“Thievery and whoring, your honor.”
“Mister Berry ...what any well-informed person would presume is, again, of no interest to the court. We deal only in facts. Do you have any proof that the young Miss Downing engaged in any such activity?”
“Your Honor...” Talmadge pleaded.
“Facts ...and only the facts, Mister Berry.”
Talmadge released the clenched fist of his right hand that he might run his fingers through his hair. He cleared his throat, and said, “It is a fact, Your Honor, that in the months of January and February of her fifteenth year, she was living in her own apartment in a somewhat more fashionable section of Philadelphia. I hold in my hand a receipt for the rent of that dwelling during that time period. The signatory is a Mister Jacob Ross Osborne, a wealthy, and I might add, married, financier. This ... arrangement, if I may, continued until she procured a more advantageous offer from a Doctor Eli Graham—”
“ENOUGH!” someone shouted from the back of the gallery.
Opaline turned to see Jonathan Berry, standing to address the Court.
“My brother’s entire testimony is soaked through and through with lie and innuendo,” Jonathan shouted.
“Sir,” the Judge reprimanded, “the court will not tolerate outbursts from the gallery. You are hereby advised to take your seat and remain silent.”
Jonathan turned and scurried from the courtroom. Opaline’s hand flew to her mouth, and she began to shiver. Phoebe was quick to wrap her arm around Opaline and pull her to her shoulder.
“Mister Berry ...is there any evidence you can provide this court of a more recent time period, not wholly dependent on hearsay, nor of a purely circumstantial nature?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then let us dispense with the incertitude of the past, and bring relevant evidence into the clear light of the present.”
“Yes, Your Honor. On Monday, December the sixteenth of this year, that is one week ago today, I personally witnessed Miss Opaline Downing leaving the Maison Des Plaisir, a well-known brothel in the Spring Street. She was in the company of another, shall we say, employee, of that enterprise. On the following Thursday, December the 19th, Miss Downing was seen entering the above mentioned establishment at approximately 5 p.m., and she did not leave until 945 a.m. the morning of December 20th.”
He paused to turn a snotty grin toward Marin, who appeared to release a long-held breath. Mister Berry turned to the judge and continued his indictment. “And again, on Sunday, that is yesterday, December the 22nd, she was seen leaving the Maison Des Plaisir at 11 p.m. in the evening. I should add that Mister Marin Carpenter has been seen entering and leaving said establishment quite frequently of late.” Talmadge then turned to his attorney and whispered something into his ear. The attorney searched through the papers and produced a document, handing it to Talmadge.
“Will that be all then, Mister Berry?” the Judge asked.
“Hardly, your Honor. I have one more document I would like to submit to the court. It is a sworn and notarized statement by the previously mentioned, Mister Alowishus Ruffington. It reads: On the 19th of December 1811, I did enter the Maison Des Plaisir to gain evidence on behalf of Mister Talmadge Berry. Upon entering, I found Miss Opaline Downing seated in the front parlor beside another prostitute using the name Sophie. I approached Miss Downing, whereupon her co-worker, Sophie, spoke up and informed me, and I quote, ‘My dear, you can’t afford her,’ whereupon I departed from said establishment.”
The Judge called for the document and Talmadge took the document up to the Bench and handed it to the Judge.
“I rest my case, Your Honor,” he said, bowing low to the Judge.
The Judge spent a few moments glancing back and forth between Talmadge and Marin. As his eyes came to rest on Marin, Marin asked,
“Am I to address the Court in defense of Miss Downing’s honor, Your Honor?” Marin asked.
“That will not be necessary, Mister Carpenter. Miss Downing is not on trial here.”
“Begging to differ, Your Honor. Miss Downing is the only one on trial here. She has been tried and convicted, without having been given the opportunity to defend herself. She—”
“Mister Carpenter,” the Judge intervened. “The court is instructing you to take this opportunity to speak in defense of yourself. There have been no charges brought against Miss Downing, and no defense is necessary, or germane.”
“And yet the Court will allow testimony against her character with no allowance for rebuttal.”
“Only in so much as it helps the Court to ascertain if slander is at issue in determining whether you are guilty of, and should be charged with, assault ...in addition to compensatory damages, as petitioned by Mister Talmadge.”
“My entire case rests upon the reputation of Miss Opaline Downing, Your Honor.”
“Your entire case, in the Civil Suit now before this Court, rests upon the testimony of your observations of events, prior to your striking Mister Berry, and only on that testimony. Is that clear, Mister Carpenter?”
Every muscle and sinew in Marin’s body tensed with rage. He recalled being brought before the mast as a young man, and taking the lash for speaking out against the captain, and so he knew no good could come from braving contempt against the court. He raised his head and looked at the Judge, with no attempt to hide his scorn.
“I struck the gentleman, Your Honor. I have no remorse, and I offer no apology.”
“Very well, then,” the Judge said, putting a period on Marin’s testimony. His poker-faced expression remained fixed on Marin, but Marin’s eyes gave no ground. The Judge suddenly turned to Talmadge Berry and said, “As I listened to you present your case, Mister Berry, I was reminded that in the State of Rhode Island, and the jurisdiction of both, the City of Warwick and the City of Newport, prostitution is legal. And while some may not consider it to be an honorable profession, it is, none-the-less, a legal occupation. Speaking personally, I find the word, ‘whore’, particularly loathsome, Mister Berry, if for no other reason than it is such a crass and accusatory term, never-minding there is not a synonymous term applied to a man who funds said livelihood, and without whom the profession would cease to exist. It is your lack of civility that I find shameful; even a prostitute is deserving of a certain human dignity, Mister Berry. Still, the court feels you have made your case, and I have decided in your favor and against Mister Carpenter.”
The Judge looked over at Marin and said, “Mister Carpenter, the Court rules that your actions, by your own admission, did, in fact, result in compensatory damages to Mister Berry. It is therefore the judgment of this court that you are hereby ordered to pay Mister Talmadge Berry, the sum of one dollar.”
The Judge surrendered a brief smile, and as it faded, he added, “I wish the court had within its authority, the ability to award a certain Miss Opaline Downing, compensatory damages equal to the indignity and defamation she must have suffered as a result of these proceedings. That is not to say that the court believes there is an actual monetary amount that will remove such a stain. So, let it be entered into the Court Record, that I, Judge Abraham Gladstone, speaking on behalf of the Court of Criminal and Civil Law for the Great State of Rhode Island, do hereby offer my sincerest and heartfelt apologies, to a Miss Opaline Downing.” He then gently tapped the gavel and said, “Court dismissed.”
“All rise,” came the thinly voiced command from the bailiff.
Marin pulled a dollar coin out of his pocket and laid it on the table. Without looking over at Talmadge, he walked over to Opaline, Phoebe, and Phillipe, and with solemn step, they left the courtroom.
Outside the courtroom, Opaline’s pace slowed to a halt when she saw Jonathan seated on a bench, looking up at her. She stopped a few feet from him, and said to Marin, “Go ahead without me. I will be home later.”
Marin’s lack of reply was reply enough, as he led Phillipe and Phoebe out of the building.
Opaline stood silent, with her hands over-lapped below her waist, eyes cast down upon Jonathan.
“May we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.
“What is it you wish to discuss with me, Jonathan?”
“I have missed you. I thought perhaps we could get caught up on all that has happened since last we talked.”
“I think your brother just gave a pretty good account of that. Were you not listening?”
“I left the courtroom ...but yes, I heard some of it.”
“Is there anything upon which you wish for me to elaborate?”
Looking about in a series of quick glances, Jonathan said, “Please, Opaline ...let us go somewhere and talk?”
Talmadge burst through the courtroom doors, and with a sudden start, came to an immediate halt. He gave the two a nervy glare, and asked his brother, “Does father know you are home, Jonathan?”
“No. But I am sure I can reply upon you to inform him.”
Before departing, Talmadge gave a forced smile toward his brother, and with a sarcastic nod toward Opaline, he said, “Madam,” the double entendre being quite obvious.
Jonathan said, “Let me apologize for my brother’s—”
“You need not,” Opaline broke in. “Your brother speaks for himself. Your father, on the other hand...”
“Very well then, let me apologize for my father.”
“It is far too late for that, Jonathan.”
“Is it?” he asked, and checking his surroundings, he added in a subdued voice, “I have never stopped loving you, Opaline.”
“You appear a little uncomfortable with those words, Jonathan.”
“This is hardly the place for such confessions. Please, may we leave?” he asked again.
Opaline followed him out of the building, and he helped her into his carriage.
***
As Marin drove the family wagon at a plodding pace toward home, Phillipe could not maintain his silence any longer.
“Well, I think that was quite rude of Opaline to not accompany you home.”
“I won’t be going directly home,” Marin said.
He steered the two horses down to the docks and stopped in front of the Magister Maris.
“I will be late coming home,” he said, handing the reins to Phillipe.
***
As Jonathan spirited the Cabriolet east, out of Washington Square, Opaline asked, “Where are you taking me, Jonathan?”
“Do you remember my telling you about a little cottage out on Easton Pond?”
“Vaguely.”
“I have always wanted to take you there.”
“Back when we were engaged, you mean?” she clarified.
“I would still like for you to see it.”
“I am not sure that would be proper, Jonathan.”
“Why?”
“I am presently engaged to Captain Carpenter, and—”
“And yet, upon his leaving, you chose to remain behind?”
Opaline folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner, retreating for lack of reply.
***
“We’ve two less men than yesterday, Captain,” Mister Prince said, greeting Marin aboard.
Marin acknowledged Jude’s comment with a quick nod, and without breaking stride, continued on his way.
“And how went the trial, sir?” Jude called after him.
“I am a dollar poorer,” Marin answered, proceeding down the steps, alone, to his cabin.
He poured himself a small chalice of brandy, opened his safe box and pulled out his diary. He read the first two lines of his last entry.
I have yet to catch a glimpse of my destiny. I would have thought by now a sailor of my years would know his ultimate destination, but I am as wayward as the first day I set sail.
He took his quill in hand and poised it a line below his last entry, and there it remained, as, sip-by-sip, he drained the glass, waiting for the words to arrive. His quill dried, and rather than replenish it, he poured himself another goblet of Brandy. Feeling as if the walls were closing in around him, he called out for Jude.
It wasn’t but a sip later that his first mate came through the door.
“Pour yourself a brandy, Jude. What in the hell are we doing?” Marin asked.
“Sir?” Jude replied.
“Are we insane?”
“Why would you be askin’, sir?”
“Well wouldn’t we have to be, to set sail in this crippled old tub, out into the North Atlantic’s winter waters with a withering crew of ignorant and wobbly landlubbers? A navigator who wears a talisman around his neck, claiming it is ‘his third eye’; an ex-rummy for a boatswain, who served in the enemy’s navy and whose only experience with American sailing ships is committing them to the deep, and a sailmaker who learned his trade by watching his mother darn socks.”
“M-m-m,” Jude muttered in agreement. “And Mister O’Brien, the cook? He can’t cook. He’s as useless in the galley as a goat.”
Marin surprised himself with his own laugh, before saying, “What are we to do, Mister Prince?”
“Make for Martinique,” Jude offered, as an obvious reply.
“M-m-m. What about, Phoebe?”
While the question may have caught Jude a little off guard and given him a moment to reflect, he also knew there was more to the asking than his answer could fulfill, so he countered with, “...and Opaline?”
Marin’s eyes dashed to the porthole, while his body remained perfectly still.
“So that’s what this is about,” Jude added.
Marin came to, tossed back his brandy and said, “Come along, Jude. We have work to do.”
***
Inside the cottage on Easton Pond, Jonathan poured Opaline a glass of cognac, and attempted to build a fire in the small fireplace. Try as he may, the kindling resisted his every effort.
“It is just as well, Jonathan,” Opaline said. “I should be getting back soon.”
Jonathan pulled a quilt from a chest and offered it to her. She wrapped it around her shoulders as he sat down beside her.
“Have you and the Captain set a date?” he asked.
“No.” she replied.
“I am curious as to why not.”
“Are you now?” Opaline said with a wry smile.
“Yes, I am. I am curious about so many things.”
“Such as?” she quizzed him, picking up a Chinese Trick Box from the table in front of her.
“Why we never made love,” he boldly advanced.
“I was saving myself for marriage,” she answered, smiling at the familiar little wooden puzzle she had solved many times as a child.
“Were you?” he said, the smirk on his face evident in the sound of his voice.
“For all you know,” she answered; giving the box a combination of twists and turns.
“For all I knew ...at the time ...perhaps.”
“For all you know now,” Opaline stated, placing the solved puzzle back on the table, but still refusing to give Jonathan her full attention. “Or perhaps you believe the slurs of your father’s counterfeit investigation?”
Jonathan’s eyes left her long enough to give the puzzle box a quick glance before asking, “Was it not I that spoke out against it in the courtroom, saying, ‘enough’?’ Having captured her attention, he added, “When my brother accused Doctor Graham of lascivious intentions—”
“Doctor Graham?” Opaline interrupted. “That was the extent of your objection?”
“Well ...no...”
“Let me set you set straight as concerns my past, Jonathan, not that it is any of your business, but it may prove instructive in helping you to understand what a judgmental and sanctimonious ass you are.”
After Opaline confirmed to Jonathan the details of her birth and adoption by the Downings, she elaborated about the events of her having run away.
“I was thirteen years of age before I discovered the truth about my mother. Confused, angry and resentful, I ran away. I survived on the streets by begging and tricking drunks into thinking I was a trollop. I would take their money and lead them to a back alley shed, whereupon my accomplice, a man I knew only as ‘Gypsy’, would show up pretending to be my father and scare them away.
“One day, Gypsy did not show up, and I narrowly escaped, ...with my virginity intact, I might add. The episode terrified me such that I never again tried that deceit, although admittedly, I had developed a dangerous obsession for the teasing of men.
“My maidenhood was stolen from me on my fifteenth birthday, when a well-to-do Mister Jacob Ross Osborne, under the pretense of Christmas charity, plucked me from the frigid streets of Philadelphia, took me to his home, warmed me, fed me, bathed me, and then he, and his wife, summarily raped me. Fearing I might expose them, as well as hoping I would continue the arrangement, they put me up in an apartment and paid all my expenses; there was no further quid pro quo.
“They soon moved to Boston, and I was once again out on the street. Exposed to the elements, I became very ill, and, being in an especially vulnerable state, I was once again raped, this time beaten and left for dead. Our mutual friend, Doctor Eli Graham, happened by, heard my cries for help, and took me to his home, where he nursed me back to health.
“He convinced me to return home to my foster parents, whereupon Missus Downing schooled me in the art of midwifery. I worked alongside her and her understudy until I was twenty-five. There developed a troublesome situation, the details of which would force me to betray confidences. The long and short of it is, I went again to stay with Doctor Graham, who took me under his wing and schooled me in the Science of Medicine as best he could. Nothing beyond a friendly kiss ever left the lips of Doctor Graham ...and yet I must confess, there were times I wished for more ...so much more.” She breathed in a breath of regret, and then summarily added, “I met you one year later.”
“Why is it you never informed me of these details concerning your past?” he asked.
“Because it was my past, and I chose to leave it there.”
“Even after my father’s accusations against you?”
“Especially after your father’s accusations.”
Opaline pulled away from Jonathan as if to gain a wider view, studying his eyes all the while. Her tone turned melancholy. “Jonathan, I have always believed that you returned to Philadelphia because your father threatened to pull you out of medical school and deny you your dream of becoming a doctor. It is only now that I discover you have believed the worst insinuations of his accusations all along.”
If Jonathan had a rebuttal, it was not forthcoming.
***
After Marin and Jude had returned topside and schooled what was left of their crew, they adjourned to The Red Boar for dinner and drinks. Upon arriving, they noticed Captain Fairchild off in a corner to himself, slouched over, chin in his chest. The two approached on soft shoes. Jude gave Fairchild a closer look.
“Is he asleep?” Marin asked.
“Yer too kind, Captain,” Jude replied.
“Come, let us leave him to it.” Marin said.
As Marin began to walk away, Jude grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket and exclaimed, “There’s half a bot’l o’ rum on the table.”
“Are you suggesting we sit down and drink his rum?”
“I am suggesting, Captain, that we be sociable.”
Marin smiled as Jude sat down at the table. Marin fetched a couple of glasses, and as they drank Mister Fairchild’s rum, Jude talked about the more comedic episodes he witnessed trying to teach the ‘crew’ the ropes.
“It’s almost impossible to imagine such a bunch o’ clumsy monkeys. Half of ‘em don’t know their left from their right - forget port from starboard. Two have fallen off the gangway into harbor, and another one was lifted five feet upside down off the deck, when he stepped in a coiled line letting go. Not one has climbed to the crow’s nest, and more than a few have gotten seasick ...and in the harbor, yet. Still, if we can keep ‘em sober, we might make it to Nantucket,” Jude said, and he laughed so loud that he stirred Captain Fairchild. “Ain’t that right, Captain?” Jude howled at Fairchild.
Captain Fairchild sat upright, doing his naval best to appear steady an sober. “Right you are,” he blurted out. Then, turning solemn, he spoke with thick tongue to Marin, saying, “Captain, it is my dreadful lot to inform you that this mission...” and he paused to swirl his head around a few times.
“Yes, Sir, you were saying?” Marin urged.
“This mission...” and he trailed off into incoherent babble.
“What about this mission, Mister Fairchild?” Marin asked.
Fairchild shook his head violently before losing all control and plunging face down upon the table with such force that it knocked the bottle of rum over. Before Jude could grab it, it went rolling off the table and across the floor.
“He’s in the soup, Captain,” Jude said.
Marin scrubbed his own face with his hands. “My stake in this venture is obvious,” Marin said, “but why in blue hell are you undertaking this voyage, Mister Prince?”
“Cause I’m the only monkey wrangler ya got, Captain.”
Marin gave an appreciative chortle. “You are a good man, Jude Prince; a bit daft, but a decent man. And speaking of decent, a certain Miss Phoebe wonders where it is such a decent man has wandered off to.”
Jude stared down at the table.
“Never mind, then,” Marin put aside.
Still staring at the table, Jude confessed, “Broke my heart when she lost the child.”
“She feels as if she has lost you as well,” Marin laid softly before his friend.
Jude left his seat to retrieve the rum bottle. Bringing it back to the table, he tipped it to his lips, draining the last dram into his mouth. He stood before Marin, and pronounced, “I’m all drained dry, Captain.”
Marin stood up to face him.
“I am going home, Jude. You are welcome to come along.”
He waited a moment. Jude left his side and went to the bar. Marin walked out into the cold dark evening, buttoned his coat against the wind, and walked home.
***
The house was dark when Marin arrived home. He lit a candle, and with apprehensive step, crept up the stairs to see if Opaline had returned home. Opening the door to her room, the flickering light from the candle revealed only Phoebe curled up in the bed. She stirred, and Marin blew out the candle and blindly returned back down the stairs, finding his way into the library where he built a fire to ward off the frigid air. He withdrew to the rear of the room to take comfort in his favorite chair, wrapping himself against the world in the cocoon of a soft quilt. Whatever thoughts may have crossed his mind soon gave way to a surging feeling so foreign that it frightened him ...he suddenly felt so terribly forsaken...
A stirring in the foyer brought him around to the realization that he had dozed off, and hoping it was Opaline, he called out, “Opaline?”
“Hardly,” came Jude’s voice.
“What time is it?” Marin asked.
“Closin’ time,” Jude said, looking in on his friend. “After ya left, Mister Fairchild came to. You should have been there.” Marin sat silent ...waiting. Jude pulled a chair up in front of him. “Navy people are a funny lot,” Jude began, in a drawn-out breath. “They rarely spit out the truth as such. They’d rather wallow it around in their own drool until they like the taste of it, and then say things like, ‘It is my considered opinion that this mission upon which you are about to embark is ill-advised.’ A real sailor would simply say, ‘You lads are doomed’.”
“And...?”
“And ...we set sail the day after tomorrow.”
“W-h-a-t?”
“On Christmas, sir.”
“Opaline’s birthday,” Marin uttered. “Why does he believe the journey, ‘ill advised’?”
“Oh, come alongside, Captain. How many times do we have to go over this? Stop pretending this is a mystery. Madison and Jefferson want to invade Canada. Rhode Island stands opposed. Sink a Rhode Island merchant ship called The Magister Maris, blame it on the British, and Rhode Island falls in line.”
“You firmly believe they intend to sink us?”
“I believe that’s their plan, yes sir.” Jude declared.
“Then you must think me a fool to carry through.”
“No sir. I believe your dedication to the Magister Maris is that of a husband to his wife ...’til death do ye part.”
“And you, Mister Prince?”
“I am your First Mate, sir. I am a sailor. I was born a sailor. I will die a sailor. I will not betray a sailor’s duties fearing they may end my sailing days. The decision ta sail is the captain’s.” He intentionally paused a moment before adding, “I’ll leave ya to yer thoughts ...Captain.”
Jude’s words fell heavy upon Marin. As Jude turned to leave, Marin called out to him.
“Jude.”
“Yes sir?”
“Phoebe sleeps solo in Opaline’s bed. You’re welcome to spend the night.”
Jude removed his coat and hat, placed them on the coat tree in the foyer, and with heavy step, climbed the stairs.
Marin placed a fair-sized log of white oak amid the still hot embers and nested back into his chair. He fell into a light sleep, waiting for the faintest sound that might be Opaline...
When the white oak had turned to a glowing brand, offering just enough amber light to make its presence known, Marin heard the sound of the front door. He listened intently as the light sound of footsteps faded up the stairs and he heard a door open, followed by a sustained silence. The door closed again, and he followed the creaking sound of the floorboards that told him someone was walking down the hallway toward his father’s study. And then, after a pause, the steps retreated back down the hallway and descended the stairs.
The fireplace lent so little light to the library that Marin could see only a vague form move through the doorway, but her scent gave her away.
Her silhouette appeared before the fireplace as she kneeled down and wrapped her coat snugly around her shoulder.
Marin breathed as quietly as he could, wishing to remain invisible.
As she reclined before the fireplace, wrapped in the orange chimera of the diminishing embers, Marin could feel a change in the amount of heat reaching him. As the air cooled around him, and darkness wore down the amber light, he felt as if he were drifting further and further away from anything resembling Opaline. Her silhouette took on the appearance of a ship adrift across the twilight of a setting sun. Puffs of white smoke from the hearth gave the illusion of sails billowing in the wind...
***
The softest of voices awakened Marin.
“Marin ...Marin.”
He opened his eyes to find Opaline kneeling before him. The early morning light cast soft shadows that lay without form alongside their dimly lit source. Opaline appeared to radiate a light of her own, shining through an icy stillnes that hung in the air.
“When did you come in?” she asked, and as she placed her folded hands into his lap, he could feel the warmth of her bare skin radiate through the cloth onto his flesh.
“I have been here all along,” he said.
“You were here when I came in?”
He nodded.
She unfolded her hands, took his hands into hers, and asked, “And you chose to say nothing?”
Marin gave a delicate nod.
“But why?”
“I wanted to observe you - without me.”
She gave him a quizzical look and pulled him nearer. “Why would you wish to do that?” she asked.
Marin looked away.
“Marin, look at me. I feel I owe you an explanation,” she said.
Marin shook his head, but the gesture lacked conviction.
“Well, here it is anyway. I went with Jonathan because ...well, truth be known, I am not sure why I chose to go with him ...probably unfinished business. At any rate, I was not with him for long. I had an afternoon appointment with a Missus Albert Longhorn, and while I was there, she went into labor that lasted throughout the night.” Her voice lightened with her smile. “She gave birth to a fine baby boy at about three this morning.” Her smile softened and her voice regained its gravity. “I am sorry if I caused you any distress.”
She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head upon his lap. She gave a little shiver, and snuggled even closer.
“Are you cold?” he asked her.
She nodded, and said, “Pity the poor horses on such a chilly morning,” and she raised her head, inviting him into her eyes.
Marin smiled and lifted her from his lap.
They gathered the quilt for a bed, a few covers for warmth, and each a pillow for their head, and they crept out the front door, tiptoed ‘round the house through the snow, and slipped quietly into the barn. They spread out the quilt on a bed of hay, laid the covers out neatly atop one another, positioned the pillows side by side at the head of their love nest, and then, standing at the foot of their creation, smiling in nervous anticipation, with light touch and diliberate grace, they undressed one another.
“I am no longer afraid of your warmth,” Opaline whispered, her heated breath warming his cold ear.