Portsmouth, 1817
It was a rare day of winter sunshine that brought the light streaming through the front window of Johnson’s Fine Books and Prints. Sophia paused and looked up from where she was entering new items into the ledger to admire the sight. Rain washed the streets clean of some of the grime left by the traffic found in a seaport so busy it was said a third rate could be docked, breamed, scraped, and paid in two tides. There were naval ships restocking, sailors out to spend every last shilling as quickly as possible, and the whores and merchants trolling for their business.
Portsmouth didn’t offer the elegance of some other seaside venues, like Brighton, but it suited Sophia. With the non-stop activity of a port where ships were serviced day and night, there was always something happening. She remembered well the boisterous celebration in the city’s streets when news arrived that the Shannon had defeated the Chesapeake. After a string of Royal Navy defeats at the hands of the Americans—the Americans, of all upstart nations!—Captain Broke’s victory put wind back in the sails of the despondent English. She enjoyed this rough and lively town, full of apple cheeked midshipman proud of the their new uniforms and their newgrown whiskers, aging salts who bore colorful tattoos from their voyages around the globe, and a surprising number of readers.
Johnson’s Books might not be the first stop a sailor made in Portsmouth—the brothels likely had a better claim to that distinction—but it was popular among the officers and seamen who could read. A good book, like music or games, helped to make the voyages pass more easily. She’d seen men who were seamed and scarred by flying shot and timber caress a book of poetry in anticipation of long nights and little to do. They also enjoyed flirting with the pretty young widow, “Mrs. Deford,” under the watchful eye of her stern aunt Annie.
One of those flirts was Captain Erasmus Tanner, the captain and owner of Fortune’s Son, and a regular customer at Johnson’s since the store’s opening. Captain Tanner became more of a friend than a customer over the years, and the ladies enjoyed hosting the old seadog at supper.
His tales of his voyages and the strange lands he’d visited brightened the quiet evenings at the Johnson residence. One night, after drinking more wine than was prudent, Sophia told him the story of how she and Annie had come to open up the bookstore, revealing she was not a widow at all, but earned her stake in the bookstore through less conventional means. Sophia smiled to remember how Captain Tanner had laughed until tears rolled down his face at the tale of the duped highwayman.
“Here now, what is this? Such a beautiful day and you stuck in this shop?”
Sophia looked up and smiled again to see her thoughts take human form. The bell over the door announced Captain Tanner, but not nearly as loudly as his booming voice, more used to the quarterdeck than the confines of a shop.
“Some of us have businesses to run, Captain, and cannot sail away with every fair wind,” Sophia said sternly, but he just beamed at her, the smile creasing his thin face and making the red sidewhiskers jump.
“Why, it is Captain Tanner,” Annie said, coming out from the back of the shop, “and you are just in time to join us for tea.”
“I was hoping you would say that, Miss Johnson. I have been longing for those currant cakes you get at the bakery down the street,” he said, ending on a hopeful note.
“I must be clairvoyant then, Captain, because I do have currant cakes.”
Sophia came around from the counter and locked the door, turning the sign over to say “closed” before their guest joined them upstairs in the snug parlor.
While Annie prepared tea, Captain Tanner chatted about how trade was picking up nicely now the war was over. Sophia felt a pang of longing, as she so often did when he told his tales of far off lands and exotic ports of call. The bookshop was pleasant and made a modest profit, but it was a bookshop, not a caravan on the silk road. For the past five years she had been living her adventures vicariously.
After Annie poured the China brew they favored and the ladies helped the captain decimate the plate of cakes, Sophia sat back with a sigh.
“Your travels are so exciting, Captain. Going to exotic ports of call, meeting new people.”
“It is that which brings me here today, Mrs. Deford.”
Captain Tanner reached into his coat and brought out two sealed documents, one addressed to Sophia, the other addressed to one John Burrell in St. Augustine, East Florida. He also passed her a sizable bank draft.
“I will take these back from you when I next return, Mrs. Deford, but if for some reason I don’t come back, would you consider voyaging to America to deliver this letter?”
Annie nearly spilled her tea in her lap, but recovered quickly.
“A young woman voyaging to America to deliver a letter? Why, I never heard of such a thing, Captain Tanner! The very idea!”
But the captain was watching Sophia’s face as he said, “I believe a young woman of pluck and backbone such as Sophia might enjoy the adventure. Now that the war is finally over, it is a better time than ever to travel. And if you have never been to the Caribbean, you should make the journey, Miss Johnson. The water is so pure and blue, the fish are so colorful…” His eyes grew wistful. “The women so friendly…”
He remembered then who his audience was and cleared his throat. He smoothed back his whiskers and said, “I expect I will recover those letters myself and return to Florida, but just in case, well, John Burrell and I have become quite close over the last few years, though we were on opposite sides when America entered the conflict. I think he would enjoy getting my last communication with him from the hands of a pretty lady rather than some starchy solicitor.
“And the bank draft will cover your journey there and back, ladies, so I hope you will consider it.”
“We cannot take your money, Captain Tanner,” Sophia said.
Tanner shook his head, the lamplight catching the gleam off the shiny pate.
“I will not be swayed on this. If I am gone, this is my bequest to you, and I insist you take it. At least read the letter before you make up your mind. However, I expect to be back in a few months’ time and this will all be a conversation that comes to nothing.”
He wouldn’t say anything more about Mr. Burrell or the letter, but chucked Sophia under the chin, labeled her a “good lass” and said he’d see her and Annie on his next visit.
Sophia spent many a moment after Captain Tanner left wondering about his friend John Burrell. Was he young? Old? A grizzled sailor or a smug and well-fed merchant? She would not wish anything bad to happen to her friend Captain Tanner, but at the same time, the idea of a voyage to the Caribbean and Spanish Florida tugged at her, reminding her that once her life had consisted of more than dusting books and counting coins.
Perhaps when Captain Tanner next visited she would voyage to Florida anyway. If she could pry Annie away from the shop, the trip would do them both good.
But there was no next visit, for news arrived that Fortune’s Son had gone down off of Bermuda. There were no survivors.
When the news was brought to Annie and Sophia, the two ladies closed the shop for the afternoon and had themselves a good cry.
Later, after Annie retired for bed, Sophia took out the letters and the bank draft left for her.
She read Captain Tanner’s letter to her. She read it again, and stared off into the distance for a long while as the candle burned down.
Then she did something that would have given Annie the vapors.
Finally, she blew out the candle and went to bed. But it was a long time before she drifted off to sleep.