"Or me," he said.
"Yes, or you. Not that you're unkind, of course; I don't mean that. He's hoping to retire from the sea after this voyage, you know."
"I didn't know. But I suppose we all dream of that. I'd like to leave the sea myself. I had planned to."
"Oh?" She hesitated, then added, "Your... wife?"
"Aye. We were going to establish a plantation of our own."
"You must have loved her greatly, Captain Rogers," she said softly.
"I did. But the chances are that even if she had lived, I would have been right here tonight. I was not jesting altogether when I said I'd always been poor." He paused. "But once I was fairly well-to-do ... for a few hours."
"What happened? Tell me."
He told her of the ill-fated privateering venture in the Jasper; of the ship taken at such great cost and so soon lost. Her interest was genuine, and he found himself telling her about his son, too.
"You must make a success of this voyage!" she exclaimed. "Oh, you must!"
"Aye. And I will. Nothing will stop me. Nothing." He caught himself up sharply. "I've talked too much."
"No, you haven't," she said, impulsively touching his hand as it rested on the rail. "It was good for you to talk."
Innocent in itself, the unthinking, kindly gesture was like putting a torch to tinder. His big hand turned under her small one, catching it firmly and drawing her into his embrace. Wide-eyed and unresisting, she regarded him steadily. He bent his head and kissed her. She trembled, closing her mouth tightly against his and turned her face away as his arms tightened. Suddenly she resisted with surprising strength, appalled at the turmoil in her breast. He made no effort to hold her.
"That never happened to me before," she whispered shakily.
He bit his lower lip, mastering himself. It had been the same with Rowena the first time he kissed her; he had felt the same rush of tenderness afterward. And Dorcas, unable to say anything or even understand the tumultuous emotions stirring her, hurried away without bidding him good night. In his embrace she had feared herself, not him.
Hastening to her cabin, she brushed past Peary at the foot of the ladder leading to the poop, and in the hurry of her passage he sensed her agitation. Curious, he clambered to the head of the ladder, halfway expecting to surprise Bryant or Fox. He saw instead Scott still standing by the taffrail. In his mind he put two and two together and a frown creased his forehead as he walked aft on cat feet.
Scott turned to face him. He spoke surlily. "Well, what is it, Mr. Peary?"
"Nothing," Peary said curtly. "Nothing—sir."
18
DARUS returned in four days, Hurst with him, bringing all the pepper his boats would carry. Scott and Bryant went ashore in shimmering afternoon heat to set up the scales and begin sending the black spice out to the ships.
"We've got a real find in this Darus, I'm thinking," Bryant said. "If he keeps delivering, we'll soon be racing for home."
"I'm ready," Scott said.
"What would you think of Dorcas and her father going home on my ship?" Bryant asked. "After all, Philadelphia is closer to Salem than it is to Charleston. I could even put in at New York."
"That's up to them," Scott replied, thinking now of the way Dorcas had been pointedly polite and distant toward him since their chance meeting in the moonlight. "Is that what they want?"
"I don't know. I haven't asked. I'd like to take them, though. You know how I feel about her."
Scott nodded.
"You wouldn't object?" Biyant continued.
The question irritated Scott, but he concealed his feeling. "Why should I? They're free to do as they please."
"That's true, but—well, I guess I will ask. Dorcas has been sort of moody lately. Have you noticed?"
Scott answered shortly. "No."
"You don't suppose she's sick, do you? There's a lot of fever on this coast. I got a little bilious myself the other day. Maybe it's the heat. My men're getting restless."
Darus and Hurst greeted them as they waded ashore through the shallows. The rajah wore a yellow cap and a spotless white jacket in addition to his kain sarong. Hurst cradled his long rifle across his body.
"Lada" Darus said proudly with a wave of his arm in the direction of the laden proas, which were guarded by almost fifty men armed with rusty muskets, swords, creeses and bamboo spears. "Plenty lada."
"You bet!" Bryant exclaimed jovially. "Let's get down to business."
"Plenty more in village," the rajah said, pointing upstream. "Plenty."
The New Englander held up and shook a canvas sack, making the heavy Spanish-milled dollars jingle musically. "Plenty wang here."
"Did you get a tiger, Hurst?" Scott asked.
The man grinned. "No, sir; didn't even see any sign. But I did find out that Darus is a big chief, all right, an' he's got pepper to spare."
"Good. I take it you and he got along well."
Hurst nodded. "Couldn't've been better, sir."
"Did you like the country inland?"
"Aye, though it's a mite tangled in places. I liked th' girls, too. I tell you, cap'n, th' more I see of th' natives here, th' more I'm reminded of th' Cherokees. I used to trade in th' Cherokee country, high in th' mountains, an' I had me a Cherokee woman for a couple of winters. She was a cross between a doe deer an' a catamount, but still easier to git along with than any white woman I ever knew. I was right fond of her." He paused, carefully lowering the butt of his weapon to dry sand and leaning on the barrel. "I reckon she's paired off with a brave now, or maybe some other white trader. Anyway, it's over an' done with."
Scott rubbed his chin. "Tell you what, Hurst. Since you and Darus are so thick, why don't you go back to his village with him again? You might get a chance to shoot a tiger or an elephant."
Hurst's eyes lighted. "I'd like that, cap'n, sir. Thank you. Matter of fact, I was goin' to ask you to let me do just that."
"Just keep the pepper coming downstream," Scott told him.
Bryant came to Scott one morning while the brigs were taking aboard the last of the fourth delivery by Darus. He found him in his cabin compounding sugar of lead and opium into astringent pills to check an outbreak of dysentery in the Caroline.
"I've got the same trouble in the Sally'' Bryant remarked sympathetically. "I'm dosing all hands with salt, vinegar and water."
"Pills are easier to get down the hatch," Scott said, wiping his hands. "I don't know what's causing it—water, food, heat or what—but the running off of bowels in this ship is getting damned serious. Half my men are too weak to pick up a fifty-pound bag of pepper."
Bryant frowned thoughtfully. "I hope we don't have any trouble with the Quallah Battoo people. They're surly bastards. I'm not letting any of 'em aboard my ship."
"Nor I," Scott said grimly. "They could give us a hard time in a fight right now. Thank God, Darus is friendly."
"I came to talk to you about him," Bryant said shortly.
Scott lifted his brows. "What's the trouble?"
"He wants a thousand dollars in advance."
"Did he give any reason?"
"He says he owes it to three of the rajahs in Quallah Battoo."
"And they're pressing him?"
Bryant hesitated. "He implied they were threatening trouble. I've an idea they were expecting to be paid in pepper, which they could have sold for twice the amount."
Scott pulled the lobe of his right ear. "Damn. We can't risk any trouble now. . . . Mr. Fox, send Hurst in here."
"Hurst!" Fox bawled. "Lay aft to the cabin. Lively, man!"
"This Hurst is a smart lad," Scott told his fellow captain. "He used to trade with the Indians at home."
"I knew he and Darus were hitting it off well," Bryant said.
Hurst appeared a minute later. He looked wan.