Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

“I have no doubt. I felt certain I was near death’s door. But I suppose you have no difficulties with illness at sea anymore?”

“None to speak of. It is my life now. I find myself more sick when I am on land.”

“Heartsick for the sea, I suppose?”

He smiled. “You are perceptive, Miss Goodrich. But here, you are trembling. Let me find you a jacket.”

He disappeared and returned with a short blue sailor’s jacket. “I apologize for its unfashionable nature, but it serves our seamen well,” he said, holding it out to help me put it on.

“Oh dear.” I shrugged into the sleeves. “I hope I am not depriving someone else of their own warmth.”

“Not at all. And please keep this… I know you do not have any other clothes.”

The jacket now warm around me, I leaned against the rail and studied the horizon. Fingers of pink and orange reached into the sky and reflected over the blue of the ocean. Then a sliver of the sun itself appeared, like a shy actor showing only one foot, then a leg, then a torso on stage. At last he appeared, his presence filling the theater, and I wanted to applaud.

As I watched the display, I felt alone with nothing between me and the edge of the world. Indeed, all things seemed possible in the beauty of such light and plane. I did not intend it, but a sigh slipped past my lips.

“The sunrise is beautiful,” Gilpin said. “That is why I am usually on deck before my watch begins. I never tire of seeing a new day dawn.”

I inhaled the chill air, the smell of salt tickling my nose. “It is all very new to me,” I confessed. “I am certain I appear like a child.”

“Never,” he said, smiling. “I think it admirable that you embrace a new life. Most of our passengers complain the entire trip until we are once again on land. Speaking of passengers, I believe I heard the captain say that some of them are stirring today and feel up to partaking of meals in the cuddy.”

“I look forward to meeting them. Everyone else seems so busy going about the business of managing the ship that I find myself with no one to talk to.”

“There is always your brother, of course,” he said.

“Yes, of course.” No telling what I would learn from Snowe ere this voyage had concluded.

Gilpin put his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “You and Miss Whipple have been congenial, I have noticed.”

I felt myself on guard. “Yes, we have.”

He rocked forward then stood motionless. “Miss Goodrich, I know you are a lady of character and breeding. It pains me to tell you this, but I would not want your own reputation sullied. Miss Whipple is not a fit companion for you.”

“Indeed?” I did not know whether to be flattered or angered.

He nodded. “Her character is not on par with yours. Mr. Snowe’s recommendation was enough to secure her passage, but all aboard know the limits of her character and have been warned against any association. Perhaps Mr. Snowe has already chastised you, but I can’t help but think that my mother would want me to protect the reputation of any sister of mine… if I had a sister, that is.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gilpin. I will take your words under advisement.”

“Mama would want me to warn you.”

The ship’s bell rang. “Eight o’clock,” he said, “and time for my watch. You will find breakfast in the cuddy. But if your teeth are of a delicate nature, beware the biscuits. They are usually extremely difficult to chew.”

“Another warning from Mama?” I could not help asking saucily.

He did not take my humor. “No, from me.” He touched his cap. “Good day, Miss Goodrich.”

“Good day, Mr. Gilpin.”

I made my way toward the cuddy, and whom should I find but Phineas Snowe. “Dear brother,” I said, taking his arm, “I wondered if you would eat breakfast.”

“I always try when I am aboard ship. And I, too, am delighted to escort you,” he said.

I allowed him to lead the way, but it occurred to me that perhaps he was not so much trying to protect me aboard ship, as he had said last night, as making sure I had little opportunity to divulge the truth about him. Nonetheless, we had a bargain, and he would have to learn to trust me. Though it pained me to think of Uncle Toby and his money, I would bide my time and abide by my agreement with Snowe.

Captain Malfort was already in the cuddy, speaking with two couples. One was close in age to Snowe and myself, deeply engrossed in a private conversation. The young lady’s dress looked twice made over, but she had added a bit of ribbon here, there, and in her hair. The effect was complementary, though it did little to ameliorate the sharp angles of her face.

The other couple were quite elderly and dressed exceedingly fine. The woman appeared to be near dozing as she sat with her head propped in her hand at the table. Her husband spoke animatedly with the captain, gesturing wildly and evidently relating a great storm at sea. As Snowe and I approached, I could hear his heated words.

“… rolling as though in a barrel, Captain. Really! Is there nothing that can be done?”

The captain was all patience. “I assure you, Mr. Harrison, that we had quite a calm night at sea. You have been with the East India Company for a number of years now. Have you not heard from other travelers that the seasickness will pass?”

“It is not I who was troubled so much as Martha,” Harrison said, gesturing at his wife. Her head bobbed in her hand, and I thought I heard a tiny snore emanate. She did not appear to have any difficulty sleeping now!

“All will be well, I am certain,” Captain Malfort said. “Ah, Mr. Snowe. Miss Goodrich. I trust you had a pleasant sleep?”

“Indeed we did,” Snowe said.

“Remarkably well,” I agreed cheerfully, the picture of innocence.

Captain Malfort introduced us to the Edward Harrisons, the elderly couple. I am sorry to say that poor Mrs. Harrison was rudely awakened by a curt jab in her shoulder from Mr. Harrison. “How d’ye do?” she said on cue, then promptly closed her eyes again. I could not tell if the burden of additional people in the room taxed her social graces or if she was merely trying to make up for the sleep she had apparently lost last night.

The other couple approached us, their shoulders barely touching, as decorum permitted. They tried not to stare at each other, but the furtive glances they shot in each other’s direction told me all I needed to know. They were newly wed.

“This will be a long voyage indeed,” I muttered.

“What’s that?” Snowe said, leaning closer.

I smiled. “Nothing of consequence, brother.”

The captain introduced the couple as Charles and Anne Akers, indeed newly married. “Brother and sister?” Mrs. Akers said, once Snowe and I had been introduced as well. “How very odd. I fail to see much of a family resemblance. It is always telling in the eyes, I say, but there is a distinct lack of similarity in yours.”

“We both have brown eyes,” Snowe pointed out, which surprised me. I could not have sworn that he noticed the color of mine, for I had made no particular notice of his.

Mrs. Akers continued to study us. “Yes, but the shape. Something is different.”

“We are only half related, after all,” Snowe said.

“Really?” Mrs. Akers seemed delighted by the new tack of the conversation. I could tell she preferred a good gossip -under the guise of conversation, of course. “Exactly how are you related?”

I decided to let Snowe answer, but the captain-bless his briny soul-called us to be seated. “Breakfast is ready to be served.”

We took our seats, Mrs. Harrison being prevailed upon to wake up enough to move to a different chair. We were a small group this morning, Mr. Gilpin being on watch, of course, and the midshipmen not present. I wondered why Julia Whipple was not among our group but thought it best not to ask. We were joined for this meal, however, by the ship’s surgeon, Jonathan Mortimer. Mr. Mortimer had little regard for his general appearance, with unkempt clothes and stringy gray hair, and he spoke little. Yet somehow he carried himself with dignity and had the demeanor of a man well acquainted with his business. I did not remember his attending me while I recovered, and I hoped not to need his skills again during this voyage.