Commanding Heart Page 3

  Chapter V

  Later that same morning, Lieutenant Matthews was moving quickly across the upper gun deck, finishing his tasks with alacrity. Normally a driven man, his eagerness and diligence in completing orders on this day served to further astonish the younger men of his crew. They nudged each other, winking playfully as he sped from one task to the next. “Mr. Matthews,” shouted one of the hands, “you seem in a rush to quit our fine company today!” The others laughed good-naturedly in agreement while Matthews smiled broadly. “I cannot help it if you poor brutes can’t keep up with an old man!” he said, grinning at them in his joy. The men laughingly returned to their work; they knew his great fondness for the young girl that had joined them for their voyage. Often in the ship’s mess he had regaled the crew with stories of Catherine’s adventures with his own children. His talk then and his actions now made it more than plain that Matthews thought of her as one of his own.

  “The guns have been cleaned and the charges lay ready for this afternoon’s exercises, sir.” Matthews reported to his stern faced captain. Captain Knight looked at Matthews with an attempt at reserve but the older man’s infectious good will tempered his coolness. “Very good, Mr. Matthews,” Captain Knight began; “You seem to be more than usually diligent. Whatever can be inspiring such activity today?” he finished with a wry smile. “Ahh!” Matthews harrumphed, flashing a wicked grin at his captain, “Sure you know, sir, that I have a lovely girl awaiting me. Catherine will have unpacked her trunk by now and I’m sure she’s brought me some treasure from home!” “Of course, Mr. Matthews,” Knight replied with warmth. “Well, off with you then; I would not wish to disrupt the young lady’s entertainment with the work of a ship.”

  Captain Knight watched Matthews race off in search of Miss Gibson with amused curiosity. That she should elicit familial feeling in the lieutenant was understandable – she was his niece after all. But this exuberant display of sentiment on Matthews’ part had Knight utterly perplexed. Matthews was one of the strongest men in his crew, one whose common sense and fierce nerve Knight had often relied on in difficult situations. To see such a man scampering about the ship like a young schoolboy in search of this outspoken girl was beyond his reasoning. The very existence of such a close bond between Matthews and Miss Gibson was incomprehensible to Knight. That the daughter of such a powerful, wealthy man should spend so much time with the family of a common sailor was certainly outside of the normal societal conventions. Knight’s encounter with Catherine that morning came back to him once more and he frowned at the remembrance. How such a haughty young woman could be so tightly connected to a simple, honest man as Matthews seemed beyond all comprehension.

  Below decks in Catherine’s cabin, Lieutenant Matthews sat with eyes closed and hands outstretched, eagerly awaiting his promised present from home. Catherine laughed delightedly at the spectacle – she loved her uncle’s great spirit and the kindness reflected in his honest face at moments like these. “You must guess the prize first, Uncle” she said with mock seriousness. “Hmmmmm…” Matthews mused, “Could it be one of Mrs. Matthews’ delicious pies?” “No,” Catherine laughed, remembering fondly how this same silly game would play out each year at Christmas in the Matthews’ family household. Gathered around the fireplace, the exchange of their simple but heartfelt gifts was always a matter of great humor and joy. The small, intimate rituals of her uncle and aunt on these occasions were a welcome respite from the cold reserve always on display at her boarding school. The love Matthews and Aunt Elizabeth held for one another was undeniable, and to be included in such a union along with the Matthews’ children was one of Catherine’s greatest pleasures. Theirs was the only family life Catherine had ever truly known. Memories of her mother had all but faded over time, and as for memories of her father…..

  “You must guess again, Uncle” Catherine implored, trying to keep her spirits even. She willed herself not to be sad at the thought of leaving this family behind, of never returning to England. Nor would she allow her thoughts to stray to Jamaica and of what awaited her there. “Is it a fancy new pair of shoes for dancing?” Matthews guessed mischievously. “No!” Catherine exclaimed in delight. As she finally held forth the promised gift to her uncle, a small doubt crept into her mind. She desperately wanted to please her uncle, to show her affection for both him and his family with the token she offered. Catherine bit her lip nervously as Matthews grabbed the offered present with his large hands. He opened one eye in a joking, tentative wink, but both eyes immediately flew open in astonishment at what they found there. “Catherine…” the lieutenant whispered softly. In his hands was a beautiful oil painting of the Matthews clan, executed brilliantly by Catherine; Matthews himself sat proudly in the foreground, Mrs. Matthews stood behind, her hand resting lovingly on his shoulder, and at their feet sat the three sons of their union. Matthews’s eyes swept from one detail to another, astonished at the beauty of the painting, the love so clearly reflected in each pose. He ran his hands over the painting, marveling anew at his wife’s great beauty, undiminished after twenty years of marriage; he was taken aback by the great changes in the sons he had not seen for a year. Unaccustomed tears came to the lieutenant’s eyes and his words caught in his throat.

  “Well, Uncle,” Catherine said nervously: “What do you think? Are you… are you pleased?” Lieutenant Matthews looked at Catherine with great pride; “It is by your hand, Catherine?” he asked quietly. “Yes, Uncle” Catherine spoke shyly. “I tried my very best…..” she trailed off uncertainly. The lieutenant came to his feet and wrapped his niece in an enormous embrace. Catherine returned his hug with great affection, tears falling from her eyes at his response. “There is but one thing wrong with it, Catherine” Matthews said as he pulled back slightly. Catherine’s brows knit together seriously, “Oh what? What can it be uncle?” she asked worriedly. “You missed a most important part of the Matthews family. You have forgotten to paint yourself” he said simply. At his words Catherine’s reserve broke and her tears fell in earnest. Matthews held her in his arms, gently rocking her as though she was a little child again. “Oh dear girl, my own dear girl” he repeated over and over as she wept her loneliness, frustration and fear into his comforting breast.

  Chapter VI

  On this second evening when the tap came, Catherine was ready. She opened the door to her cabin at once and found a grinning Tom Foster at her threshold. “Good evening, miss” he said shyly. “Good evening Tom,” Catherine responded with warmth. “Shall you escort me to the captain’s table?” she asked with a smile. “Yes, miss, if you please” the young boy answered with great pride. Catherine stepped forward and once again took the cabin boy’s arm. He led her, unselfconsciously this time, through the passageways of the quarter deck to Captain Knight’s dining room.

  When Catherine entered the room, every eye turned to her in frank admiration. Her golden hair was carefully arranged in a twisted knot at the base of her neck, and held in place by a blue silk ribbon shot through with threads of gold. Her empire gown of ivory silk was elegantly trimmed at the waist with the same ribbon, and against her throat rested a heavy gold locket. She shone like a rare jewel in the light from the cabin’s candles. The men at table were visibly struck by the beautiful figure before them as they came to their feet. Catherine blushed slightly as she took in their appraising glances. She thanked Tom for his assistance and quickly seated herself at the table, carefully avoiding any look to the head of the table where the captain stood. Catherine was resolute she would make a success of tonight’s supper. After last night’s miserable attempt at this same table, and her morning argument with Captain Knight, she was determined to pass this evening’s gathering with decorum and civility. Catherine caught her uncle’s eye and he winked broadly at his niece; she grinned quickly in return as she settled her napkin in her lap.

  “I am glad to have you join us once again” the captain said in his low voice. Catherine steeled her nerves a moment then looked to the head of t
he table where he sat. “I thank you for the invitation, sir” she said quickly; “You are most generous.” Her eyes were caught and held by his a long moment. In the candlelight his eyes seemed almost black; two inscrutable pools of glittering light. She could feel the heat rising in her face as he took a frank, appraising look at her. Finally, with a slight nod, he turned his gaze away and began issuing instructions to the porter for the evening meal. Catherine gave a small sigh of relief and settled in to enjoy the gathering.

  As the courses were unveiled, Catherine marveled again at the quality of the food set before them. The dinner was as fine as anything she had enjoyed at a country manor, but with one difference: the company was by far superior here onboard the HMS Triton. There was none of the old, worn out society talk that she encountered at every ‘good’ table she visited at home in England. All around her, the officers spoke with intelligence and great wit. This was no collection of rough sailors as some would have led her to believe. The men of Captain Knight’s crew were well-read, thinking men capable of deep conversation, as well as of action. Each engaged Catherine in turn with details about the ship, the duties they performed, and how they came to sail aboard the Triton. Every man spoke with warmth and enthusiasm and it was clear to Catherine that each had been carefully chosen and trained by Captain Knight. It was obvious they all held the captain in the highest regard and she tried to reconcile this idea with her own image of Captain Knight.

  From the other end of the table, Captain Knight was experiencing a similar difficulty. Although he did not engage Catherine directly in conversation, he caught every word she spoke to her tablemates. He was surprised at the depth of the questions she asked about the ship and the work she had viewed while escorted by her uncle earlier in the day. She seemed to have caught every detail and was deeply interested to know more, to understand how all the pieces fit together. Knight tried to resolve the notion of this eager, inquiring mind with the haughty, proud indifference he had met with earlier. He could find no explanation that suited him as he listened to her conversations with the others.

  “Miss Gibson,” a young midshipman began, “I must compliment you on your artistic skill. Lieutenant Matthews has been proudly showing off your painting to us all” he finished with a smile. Matthews beamed at his niece and Catherine bent her head in embarrassment. “She is a fine painter, is she not?” Matthews enthused. “She even managed to make an old tar like me look a respectable gentleman!” he said with great mirth, and the men all joined in on the laughter. “Indeed,” said the deep voice of the captain in acknowledgement, “You are a painter of great skill, Miss Gibson.” Catherine looked at the captain, then back to her uncle before speaking: “You have seen the painting as well, captain?” she asked.

  “Yes. And I thought it a very fine work. You obviously have a great talent to share” he said with sincerity. Catherine did not know how to respond to this generous comment and only nodded her head in small thanks. After a moment’s pause she spoke aloud; “I hope that I might be allowed to complete some paintings of the ship while I am onboard, Captain Knight, if you are agreeable?” Captain Knight looked at her, and then gave another of those rare smiles that so completely transformed him. “I would be most honored if you would” he agreed. Catherine smiled in return and felt some of her former anxiety slip away from her. She returned to her meal and the conversation of her companions with renewed enjoyment.

  At length, the evening drew to a close, and talk at the table turned to their destination of Jamaica. The men debated on the length of time it would take to reach Kingston, the weather to be encountered en route, and the changed sights they would find on their arrival at the busy harbor. As they spoke, Catherine seemed to withdraw into herself. Matthews watched his niece guardedly, concern writ large all over his face. Captain Knight noted the change in both of their behavior and watched the pair with curiosity. Matthews was as open and honest a man as Knight had ever served with, but something was obviously being held secret between the lieutenant and his niece. Knight felt a prick of annoyance at this mystery that was playing out on his own ship but he would not seek explanation from either Matthews or the girl; his sense of personal honor and his regard for Matthews would never allow it.

  As the discussion of Jamaica continued, the boatswain attempted to engage the lovely Catherine in this talk as well: “You must be excited yourself, miss, to see the many changes in Kingston since last you were there.” Catherine’s face burned red as she attempted a response: “You are mistaken, sir,” she replied haltingly, “I shall note no change as this will be my first trip to Jamaica.” Conversation around her seemed to stop completely as each man took this in with surprise. “But I understood,” the boatswain continued in confusion, “That is, Lieutenant Matthews said your father has lived there some fifteen years?” Catherine wrung her hands in her lap before replying shortly, “Yes. It is true my father has long lived in Jamaica. But I … I have been away at school. I have never visited the island during his time there.” Her words hung uncomfortably in the room as all looked on in astonishment. Even Captain Knight could not keep a look of immense surprise from his face. For a family of their stature, a trip to Jamaica was not a difficult thing to accomplish. That such a journey had never been taken, that fifteen years had passed since father and daughter had seen one another, was a complete shock, even to men who were used to long separations from their families. The painful silence continued until Lieutenant Matthews snapped into action: “I fear, dear Catherine, we keep you too long at table after such a busy day. I know you must be tired after my dragging you about the ship all afternoon. Come, I am sure the officers will excuse you.” The men all murmured assent and rose to their feet as they watched Catherine, her face now pale and drawn, as she stood and took her uncle’s arm. As the two turned to leave, Captain Knight caught her gaze. Catherine read his curious look and feared what he might speak; but Knight was a man of honor and said only: “I thank you again, Miss Gibson, for joining us this evening. It was a great pleasure that I hope we may repeat?” Catherine inclined her head in gratitude and gave a small curtsey to the captain. “Indeed, sir. I look forward to it. Good evening gentlemen” she said politely as Matthews led her from the room.

  Chapter VII

  Catherine’s life aboard the HMS Triton quickly fell into a regular, and surprisingly enjoyable, pattern. Each morning she spent a great deal of time on the main deck capturing fresh sights in her sketchbooks. Her slim figure, settled upon a barrel or a coil of rope, became a habitual fixture on deck as she sought new and different images to draw. The inquisitive Catherine soon came to know the public spaces of the ship in great detail and she also became well acquainted with many of the men onboard, often addressing them by name as she asked questions about their work. The men were delighted with their passenger – initially for the novelty of seeing a beautiful woman each day – but soon they grew to admire this young woman of keen intellect for her own worth.

  Catherine’s afternoons were spent in ‘training’ at the hands of her uncle or a ship’s officer. They took it upon themselves to teach Catherine everything from reading the compass, to splicing rope (which they insisted she do wearing heavy work gloves and a smock), to calculating the ship’s progress with the sextant. Catherine proved a ready student, and what started as a token entertainment soon became the highlight of her day and of the officers’ as well. Catherine felt completely free from the strict rules of society that had long dictated her life. These intelligent men felt her to be equal to all but the most strenuous work onboard. She delighted in their instruction and did her best to meet, if not exceed, their expectations. Lieutenant Matthews was justly proud of her accomplishments, but none was more impressed than Captain Knight. Each day he would find Catherine in yet another corner of the ship, head bent to different tasks, completely engaged in her assignment. At first, when she would see Captain Knight approaching, Catherine would blush guiltily and offer to abandon the work and so free the officer for other
duties. She feared another withering comment from him about interrupting the work of the ship. To her great astonishment, Captain Knight would merely look over her task, occasionally offering some insight on her progress, and then continue with his rounds. Catherine was mystified but pleased that a sort of truce had somehow established between the two of them. At table in the evening, their talk remained civil, and between them, indeed between all the officers, there developed an unspoken agreement that when Miss Gibson was present talk of their final destination of Jamaica was strictly forbidden.