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  She sensed a change in Knight’s unyielding posture at her words but he offered no resistance as she passed. Catherine left the room in silence and made her way to her cabin. Safe in its sanctuary once more, Catherine threw herself on the bed where the burdens of the day could finally be released, along with a flood of tears. The day was over and the battle had been won, but for Catherine, everything seemed lost.

  Chapter XIV

  The remainder of Catherine’s journey passed like a fevered dream. As much as possible she remained in her cabin, avoiding any further contact with Captain Knight. Her Uncle Matthews was certain it was worry of Jamaica that kept her confined to quarters, and so did not question her reasons for remaining alone. On her final night aboard, however, Catherine knew she must leave her room and join the gentlemen at dinner. Morning would see them arrive in Jamaica and it was her duty to offer her farewells.

  The evening proved as awkward as her first aboard the HMS Triton. Catherine had prepared for supper in great agitation, struggling to remain composed at the prospect of sharing a room with Captain Knight again. She arrived at table later than the expected hour but offered no apologies as she sat down. Attired in the most conservative gown from her wardrobe and with no trace of her usual good humor, Catherine seemed a stranger to the officers. Everyone at table knew of her anxiety about Jamaica but even that could not explain her cold reserve on this evening. From the other end of the table, Captain Knight seemed similarly affected: his usual hospitality was replaced by an inexplicable curtness. Tension hung over the entire table and none were brave enough to try to break through.

  The little talk that did take place all centered on the French prisoners that had been taken after their battle. The men were being held in the brig of HMS Triton and there was much speculation as to what secrets they might reveal. “They’ve given no explanation, Captain, why they were in these waters?” asked one young lieutenant. Captain Knight did not even look up as he responded in brusque tones: “No. None.” The lieutenant missed the hint of danger in his captain’s words and blindly continued in his questioning: “But surely there must have been papers on board that contain their mission?” Captain Knight set his wine glass down with slow deliberation and gave the lieutenant a withering look before stating in the same brusque tones: “No. None.” Catherine looked up at the captain’s sharp reply and caught an unusual look pass between her uncle and the captain. She could not be certain but Catherine felt that the two held some secret they were not sharing with the other men. Catherine considered the possibility but was not convinced; Captain Knight was normally open with his men on such matters as affected them all. And yet as the strange tension in the room continued Catherine could not help but wonder if the mysteries of the French ship lay at the heart of the captain’s behavior on this night.

  After the last agonizing course was over the company began to break up with relief. Catherine stood and received each officer in turn to say her thanks and a final goodbye. She regretted that the atmosphere on their last night was so difficult but she could not shake her discomfort in the presence of Captain Knight. At last, after numerous polite speeches and good wishes from the officers, Catherine, her uncle and Captain Knight alone remained in the room. Matthews clearly felt the same awkwardness as the others and strove to end the situation with equanimity: “Well,” he said tentatively, “the morning will soon be upon us. We should bid good night to the captain, Catherine.” Catherine nodded her agreement but she did not speak. The three stood in silence until the captain himself spoke: “Yes Matthews. I regret we must make our farewells. But might I first ask for a few moments alone with Miss Gibson?”

  Catherine gave a visible start at the captain’s request. Matthews saw her distress and was uncertain what to do; he never refused the captain but his niece’s discomfort was palpable. He looked from one to the other before finally conceding to the side of duty: “Of course, captain.” Matthews said haltingly. Then with a sympathetic look at his niece he continued, “Catherine, I shall wait for you in your quarters.” The statement was posed more as a question and Matthews awaited some sign of acceptance from Catherine. She looked very unhappy at his words but gave her uncle a nod of assent, still unspeaking. The lieutenant cleared his throat then stepped outside, gently closing the door behind him.

  Captain Knight moved back to the table and poured himself another drink. Absently he turned and asked Catherine if she would care for a glass as well. “No,” she replied sharply without looking at him. Knight raised his own glass to her in mock salute and emptied its contents in one swift motion. He held the glass a moment longer then returned it to the table before turning to Catherine: “I do not wish to keep you, Miss Gibson, but I’m afraid we have something to discuss.” Catherine drew in a long shaky breath, her face coloring a deep crimson at the remembrance of the last time she was alone together with Captain Knight. She could not believe that he would be so ungentlemanly as to revisit the unfortunate event. Catherine blinked furiously and looked away, mortified. Before she could speak he continued in cool level tones; “The matter of Tom’s sister, Miss Gibson. I thought we should make a plan as to how we will proceed once we reach Jamaica.”

  “Tom’s sister?” Catherine said in relief as she turned to face the captain; “Yes, yes of course. Indeed you are right. We will need some means to… communicate what is required…..” Captain Knight nodded in agreement. “I will send inquiries to England through the Admiralty as soon as we reach shore. We should be able to obtain a response rather quickly but there will be items to discuss before all can be arranged. Would it be acceptable for me to visit your father’s home when the time comes, or… do you wish to make an alternate arrangement?” he asked carefully. Catherine sensed his meaning immediately: for the captain to show up at her father’s home requesting a private interview was certain to raise suspicions on a matter she wished to keep private. “I do not believe that would be wise, Captain Knight” she said with all the grace she could muster, “I fear I may not be… in command of my own time and my own affairs once I am returned to my father.” Captain Knight sensed the quiet anger beneath her words as she spoke. He waited patiently until she continued; “I think it would be best if we were to meet somewhere else, away from my father. Somewhere public, of course!” she added quickly, lest he think she was looking for another type of interview with him. “Of course,” Knight replied with great civility. “Might I suggest that we meet at Spanish Town Cathedral?” “At a cathedral, Captain?” Catherine asked questioningly. “Yes,” he responded; “The cathedral – St. Catherine Parish as it is now called – is a popular attraction and your wanting to visit it should raise no questions… or objections.” Catherine saw the wisdom of his suggestion and agreed to his plan. “Very well,” Knight said, “Then I shall send word to you as soon as I have news and we can meet at the cathedral to make the necessary arrangements.”

  Once again, Catherine was completely at a loss to understand this complex man and his motives: at one moment Knight seemed determined to fight with her, the next he was all gentlemanly kindness and assistance, and at other times….. Catherine felt the hot blush come into her face again at the remembrance of their passionate encounters. She wished to give her thanks but a long time passed before she could compose her thoughts and speak again. “Captain, I… I appreciate your assistance… and… your discretion in this matter” she whispered lowly. She stood quietly, uncertain what to say further to this man who had come to mean so much to her, and yet who would soon be gone from her life forever. The enormity of the thought struck Catherine like a physical blow. She rocked on her heels as she stood before Captain Knight, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously, unhappiness writ large all over her face. Captain Knight stepped forward and slowly reached for Catherine’s hand, his strong masculine fingers wrapping about hers in gentle embrace: “It is nothing, Miss Gibson,” he said, his deep voice rich with unspoken meaning. “I wish only to be of service to you.”

  At his to
uch, Catherine felt her firm resolve breaking; she could not bear to continue this interview. She looked down to the darkly tanned hand that enveloped her own with gentle possession. Despite her best efforts, Catherine felt wetness gather on her lashes and a single tear fell, landing on their clasped hands. She heard the captain’s sharp intake of breath but before he could speak Catherine pulled free of his grasp. She would not admit her feelings, could not allow Captain Knight any further into her life. With a slight curtsey and a mumbled, “Goodnight” Catherine turned and left the room before her heavy heart could betray her further.

  Chapter XV

  The arrival of HMS Triton caused a great stir at the Kingston docks. Word soon spread that the illustrious Captain Knight, accompanied by a captured French corvette, had appeared in the early hours, carefully piloted into Kingston harbor by the crew. The sight of the vessels, and the assembled French prisoners on the deck of the Triton, had officers from Admiralty House quickly making their way to the dock to greet the crew as the ships were made fast.

  From the main deck, Catherine watched the meticulous work dockside as all was made secure. The sight would normally have held Catherine spellbound but on this morning her attention could not be caught. She looked absently from one scene to another, her eyes widening with anxiety each time a civilian approached the ship. A slight breeze stirred the air but it was not enough to dispel the great heat that was coming from the island itself. After the refreshing conditions at sea, the close atmosphere of the island was an uncomfortable reminder of the great change about to come to Catherine. Her carefully arranged hair was already feeling heavy and damp along her hairline and even the light cotton dress she had chosen to wear felt constricting and oppressive in the early morning sun.

  “What do you think, Catherine?” her uncle’s voice came from behind her. Catherine did not turn but continued to scan the dock as she spoke; “I think it is very hot, uncle. I wonder at any civilized person wishing to live in a steaming jungle” she finished bitterly. Matthews stepped closer and gave his niece a quick squeeze of encouragement. “It is not always so;” he responded with optimism. “You are meeting Jamaica at a difficult time of year. Things will be much better when the summer heat abates.” Catherine gave a slight nod but showed no sign of conviction at his words. “I am afraid the time of year will do little to improve my opinion, uncle. I meet my new home on very uneven terms.”

  Lieutenant Matthews knew the course of this discussion would not improve and so sought to change the subject: “Have you spoken to young Foster” he asked kindly. At the mention of Tom’s name Catherine’s face softened and some of her usual good humor returned: “I have, Uncle” Catherine said with warmth; “We made a very pleasant farewell this morning – Tom promises to write as often as possible and to visit every time he finds himself in Jamaica. He is such a delightful boy, Uncle Matthews - I shall be sad to leave him…..”

  Catherine trailed off suddenly at the sight of an approaching coach drawn by a team of horses, black as jet. The dark carriage shone like a mirror, winking wickedly in the face of the morning sun as it drew up alongside the HMS Triton’s berth. Inside, Catherine could see two stern figures – one older, one much younger – but both with the same haughty bearing. Catherine’s whole body stiffened as she saw her father’s face for the first time in fifteen long years.

  William Gibson had aged considerably in that time, but Catherine recognized the same look of ruthless determination that had darkened her childhood. Gibson stepped from the carriage, arrogance and privilege marking every action as he dismissed the footman and turned to his companion who also alighted from the carriage. The two men shared a rough laugh with one another, and began their way to HMS Triton’s gangplank.

  Like Catherine, Lieutenant Matthews had recognized William Gibson at once. He felt anger welling up inside of him, not only at the sight of this callous man, but at the unwelcome sight of Gibson’s traveling companion. As Matthews’ shrewd eye took in the man’s fashionable dress and conceited bearing his worst fears for Catherine were realized. Rage burned within him at the helpless situation – there could be no mistaking what this man’s presence foretold. “Come” he said to Catherine quietly, and took her by the arm to lead her away. Catherine remained rooted to the spot, unhearing as though in a trance. Matthews watched as the color left her face and an expression of distress crossed her features. After a moment he gave her arm a gentle shake and Catherine returned to herself with effort. “I suppose I should gather my things, uncle” she said, her blue eyes wide and frightened in her pale face. Matthews nodded his agreement and watched her leave the deck for her cabin. He knew Catherine’s fate was inevitable but hoped to keep her safe, if only a few moments longer.

  Catherine had not long left the deck when a great commotion began at the base of the gangplank. Matthews moved to the side rail as the sound of voices raised in anger carried up to him in the morning air. Below, William Gibson stood bristling as one of the ship’s lieutenants refused the man entrance to the ship. Gibson’s face was scarlet as he angrily confronted the lieutenant on duty. “I am sorry, sir” the young lieutenant said sharply. “As I said, no one is admitted aboard His Majesty’s ship without invitation from Captain Knight. I have had word passed to the captain. I am sure he will address your request as soon as is convenient.” “Damn you, you insolent cur!” Gibson roared. “My daughter is aboard that ship at my instruction, and I will damn well enter if I choose.”

  “No, Mr. Gibson, you are mistaken” came the crisp, controlled voice of Captain Knight from above. Matthews and the others watched as their captain made his way across the deck to stand at the top of the gangplank. Knight, dressed imposingly in full uniform, stood unflinching before the two challengers; his polished black boots seemed rooted to the deck and from his vantage point above the men his great height was even further accentuated. He looked down upon Catherine’s father with a look of barely concealed contempt. The two men sized each other up a long moment before Captain Knight spoke once more: “Your daughter, Mr. Gibson, is aboard at my discretion, not by your instruction. I am in charge of this vessel and you will conduct yourself accordingly.” Knight’s words hung in the air like glittering daggers. The hands all paused in their work to see what would transpire next. “Permission to come aboard?” Gibson ground out through clenched teeth. Knight nodded his head in acknowledgement and gave the command for Gibson and his companion to pass.

  On deck, Captain Knight’s eyes flashed dangerously as William Gibson and his unknown acquaintance stepped aboard. Gibson roughly shook off the sailor attempting to assist him from the gangplank and looked around like a madman. His wild stare lit on the figure of Lieutenant Matthews and Gibson lurched towards him shaking with anger. “You arrogant bastard,” he hissed, “How dare you allow me to be treated in such a way in front of my business associate? You forget who I am, Matthews. You forget the power I hold. You will pay for this dearly...” Matthews’ fists coiled in anger but before he could act, Gibson’s ranting was suddenly silenced as Knight reached forward and grabbed Gibson roughly by his lapels. Gibson struggled uselessly, looking up at the stoney-faced captain in astonishment. From behind, Gibson’s companion watched the encounter coolly, making no move to intervene on his friend’s behalf. Captain Knight held Gibson close, every muscle coiled and prepared for action; he seethed with anger as he said, “I will explain the situation to you once again, sir. You are onboard my ship, Mr. Gibson. I am in command. You will conduct yourself appropriately or I will have you thrown overboard. Do we understand each other?” Knight’s eyes glittered dangerously, wicked flames burning in their depths as he awaited Gibson’s answer.

  Gibson straightened and returned the Captain’s look, anger boiling in his face. He twisted around, finally noting that the crew, indeed, stood ready to act at a word from their captain. William Gibson saw that if he pushed this powerful man further there was nothing of which Captain Knight was not capable. Like the cunning gambler he was Gibson qui
ckly weighed his options and settled on another tactic: “Captain Knight,” he wheedled with false piety, “You, will forgive me of course. It is only a father’s loving concern for his daughter that makes me behave with such poor manners.” Gibson lowered his head in fatherly concern and continued his charade; “Having my daughter returned to me after so many years apart is a blessing, Captain Knight. Her wellbeing weighs greatly upon me; my only concern, my only wish in life is for her care” he pleaded with feigned sincerity.

  Knight listened to this speech with barely concealed disgust but he did at last free Gibson. Knight drew himself up to his full height and remained in front of Gibson menacingly. He clenched his teeth as he looked down at the mean, little tyrant before him, then delivered a withering pronouncement: “Against my better judgment, I am about to return your daughter to your care,” Knight said with a clipped, measured tone; “but rest assured, if Catherine ever comes to any harm at your hands, know that I will find you and I will make you sorry you ever drew breath.” The force of his words hung between the two men for a long moment until Gibson had the good sense to look away and take a step backwards. His eyes still flashed venom but Knight also saw the awareness that Gibson understood and accepted the ultimatum he had been given.

  Into this perilous arena stepped a hesitant Catherine. She had returned to the deck accompanied by young Tom, who carried her valise. The tension onboard was so palpable at their entrance that Catherine instinctively reached out a protective hand and halted Tom in his progress. All seemed to be in suspended animation: Catherine noted the Captain’s threatening posture; her father’s rumpled appearance and barely controlled temper; and the well-dressed stranger who watched all with sardonic humor. She blanched at the sight, shaking her head in confusion. Catherine turned to Tom and gently removed her valise from his hand. “Stay here” she bade the young boy and moved across the main deck with halting steps. Not a man spoke as she made her way through their ranks to where her father and Captain Knight stood facing one another like prize fighters. Everyone watched in fascination as this strange scene played out on the deck of their ship. When Catherine finally reached her father’s side, he broke the eerie silence when he stepped forward and wrapped her in an embrace exclaiming loudly: “Catherine, Catherine! My own sweet girl …..”