Abigail Carlton maneuvered through the filth laden London dockside to get to her only and most annoying child. “Victoria Annabelle Carlton, don’t you dare take another step towards that boat!” Without lifting the hem of her dress more than an inch, she expertly avoided the heaping piles of fresh horse dung and dog excrement. When she reached her daughter, waiting impatiently on the docks edge, she was livid with anger. However, it would not be seemly for a lady of her stature to harangue her child like some fish woman.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself and opened her fan to shield her face from anyone who might be passing by in a carriage. “You are determined to see us leave in shame!” she hissed at her daughter. “Just look at you. I’ve seen scullery maids more tidy. Your skirt looks as if you rolled in the street.”

—

Victoria, or Vic, as her father called her, endured her mother’s tirade without expression or repentance. However, as it continued unrelenting, the child’s eyes casted about for a savior.  If only her Papa would arrive, this torment would end. Yes, her mama would point out her dirty skirt to her father, and insist he punish her, but the dear fellow would was kiss her on her forehead and send her onboard the ship to play.

She was dying to get on the ship and off to sea. If only her mother would stop lecturing; if only her papa would come. Failing to see any chance of immediate rescue, she turned her attention to the ship. Her mother called it a boat, but not surprisingly, her mother was wrong. The Longbird was a three hundred foot, two masts Schooner. Her Papa had told her it was just about the fastest vessel on the water. Comparing its sleek form to the rectangular bulk of a common sailboat docked behind her, Vic could easily believe the Longbird could outrun anything on the ocean.

She watched with fascination as the crew carried supplies aboard and disappeared down into the many openings. They reminded her of a colony of ants, all doing their part for a single purpose. And just like ants, they appeared to be very strong. She watched a boy not much taller than herself lift her trunk onto his back and carry it up the ramp.

She knew that trunk weighed a ton. The bottom half of it contained books her mother had forbidden her to take. Vic had long ago learned it was pointless to reason with her mother, so she accepted her mother’s irrational order that the book chest would not be taken. She waited until her mother left the room, removed most of the dresses from her dress trunk and put the books in the bottom. She also added several pairs of her boy’s pants around the books to keep them from shifting and giving away her slight of hand. Finally, she put two dresses on top, should her mother think to open it again. The discarded dresses she carefully stuffed beneath her mattress so none of the maids or her mother would notice them.

Tobias had complained the trunk was ‘terrible heavy’ when he came down the stairs, but fortunately Vic’s mother wasn’t listening to the old man’s complaints. She was too busy weeping and bemoaning her husband’s incomprehensible decision to leave England and drag his family to some uncivilized island in the middle of the ocean.

Her mother’s present lecture continued as unrelenting as rain in winter, but to Vic it was only noise. Her mind wouldn’t tune in until the words “are you listening to me” were spoken. This question would usually arise three or four times in a lecture of this magnitude. If she failed to reply, she would suffer a cruel pinch to the soft flesh of her upper arm. Her mother could pinch hard enough that it behooved Vic to pay heed to the droning buzz for those critical five words.

“Are you listening to me?” Abigail demanded.

Vic tore her eyes away from the ship. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Vic knew if she said nothing, her mother would get on with her lecture and Vic could get on with watching the crew ready the ship, however, the opportunity to upset her mother was simply too tempting.

“I was watching a crew member throw your fine china down into the hull.”

“What?” Abigail screeched in horror as she looked at the ship. “Where? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you.” Vic suppressed a smile and spoke with her best voice of innocence. “You seemed quite passionate with your speech.”

“It was not a speech. You make me sound like I’m one of those women.”

Vic knew ‘those’ women were the suffragists who asked for simple rights which men took for granted: the right to own and keep property and the right to vote. ‘Those’ women had purpose to their lives. They did not live to the whim of men.

Vic’s eyes narrowed only slightly as she looked at her mother. “I would never accuse you of being one of them.”

 “I should say not!”

“If you were one of them, you would not be standing here today. You would have told my father that his life and yours are no longer compatible and that you would remain in England among your ever-so civilized friends. You would send us away without guilt or remorse and go on with your life.”

—

Abigail stared at her daughter, speechless. More than anything, she wished she could do exactly what her daughter described. Unfortunately, it was simply not possible. If she were to remain behind, abandon her husband and daughter, society would cast her out. A woman’s place was beside her husband, even if he was the biggest fool in the world and his daughter an unnatural, slovenly, and disrespectful creature.

“Do not be absurd, Victoria. I would never leave you and your father. We are a family, and without me, God knows what the two of you would do!”

—

Vic sighed. She would love to find out, but knew that if her mother didn’t run now, there was no hope of ever finding out just how pleasant life might be without her. She returned to viewing the ship.

Her mother had barely resumed her lecturing when Vic cried out, having spotted her father coming out of the captain’s cabin of the ship. Before her mother could stop her, she darted up the ramp, almost knocking a crew member loaded down with grain sacks as she scurried around him to avoid her mother’s desperate attempt to latch onto her daughter.

Samuel Carlton and Captain Nathanial Jeffries both looked toward the commotion on the plank. Captain Jeffries mistook the woman screeching at the top of her lungs as one of the street women, dressed up like a proper woman to entice his crew for a bounce of pleasure before they set to sea. The child he assumed was to distract his attention while the woman disappeared below deck.

“Excuse while I escort that woman off my ship. My men don’t have time for a last dip in the well.” Before Captain Jeffries had taken a single step, Samuel grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Unfortunately she must come with us.” He sighed with sad resignation. “For that is my wife.”

Jeffries turned to Samuel. “Sir, I apologize. I have gravely offended you.” He would not blame the man if he were to call him out for such an outrageous insult.

Samuel patted Jeffries arm. “Don’t concern yourself. Although, I must say, mistaking Abigail for a lady of the street— I never expected to happen. A fish hag perhaps, but not a seller of passion, sir, of that I can assure you!”

“Again sir, I do apologize,” Jeffries might have said more, but the young girl was upon them and catapulted herself into her father’s arms.

“Papa. You were on the ship the whole time. We’ve been waiting forever on the dock.”

“Sorry, Love.” Samuel kissed his daughter tenderly. “I told your mother to bring you aboard the ship. Hmm, by her stride, I would surmise your mother is a bit upset with us.”

 “You could just as well call her ‘your wife,’ rather than ‘my mother.’” Vic scowled. “I think it’s unfair to place the responsibility on my shoulders.”

Samuel laughed at her objection even as Abigail stormed up to face him. “Here’s my wife.” Samuel glanced down at Vic to make certain she had heard his willingness to bear this terrible responsibility. “Abigail, this is Captain Jeffries. He’ll see us safely to the West Indies.”

—

Abigail had absolutely no desire to meet a low-class, sailor person, especially not when she wanted to tear her daughter from limb to limb. “How do you do, Mr. Jeffries,” she stated with curtness and then turned her glare upon Vic.

—

Samuel felt his daughter ease behind him, trusting him to protect her. He looked at Jeffries. “I believe my wife knows your brother Julliard.”

Abigail looked shocked by his claim. “The Earl of Lancaster?”

Jeffries smiled stiffly. “Yes, ma’am. But if you could keep that between us, I would appreciate it.”

“If you wish.” Her tone sounded more cordial now. “By why on earth would you want such a connection kept a secret?”

“It’s not a secret, ma’am. However, it would gain me no favors with the crew. Their lot tends to be contemptuous of the lords and ladies.”

Abigail snorted in contempt. “And why should anyone care what they think?”

He leaned in and spoke softly. “On land I might agree with you. However, on the sea, it’s critical that these men see me as an able captain who can get them back to land safe and sound.”

“Well that goes without saying…” Abigail interjected.

“Yes, but if they knew I was the son of a Lord, they would think me too soft and pampered for the task.”

“I see.” Abigail frowned, not certain she really did. But then, she had never understood the minds of the lower class. She was constantly befuddled with her house staff, nevertheless the incomprehensible minds of these half-naked men who smelled worse than the horses’ stables at their country home. Her mind flittered for a brief moment on their country home. She would probably never see it again. If they weren’t killed in a mutiny by this filthy crew, then they would undoubtedly be killed by wild savages in their new home.

Samuel took his wife by the arm. “Well, now that we have that all solved, let me show you to you to our cabin.”

Jeffries noticed the girl did not follow them. Instead, she seemed captivated by the tall mast. Now that she was standing on her own and apart from her six foot tall father, he suspected she was perhaps older than he had first assessed.

She squinted and shaded her eyes from the sun. “Does that rope ladder go all the way to the top?”

“No. Further up there are notches in the mast itself.”

“May I climb it?”

“No.” He wondered if the girl was half witted.

“I don’t mean now.” She chuckled. “I could hardly climb in a dress. But I did bring pants with me.”

Nathan stared at her as if she had just grown a second head. He had no idea how to respond to such a remark. Before he was forced to come up with one his second- in-command, Adams, interrupted their conversation.

“The ship is loaded and ready for sail.” Adam gave Vic a once over. “You want me to get them off the ship?”

“No, Adams, they aren’t visitors. This is Mr. Samuel’s daughter. The woman you saw was his wife.”

Adam blinked twice in confusion.

Nathan looked to Victoria. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I wish to introduce you properly to my first mate.”

Vic held out her hand to Adam. “I’m Vic. And I owe you an apology.”

Adam stared at the hand with evident mistrust and confusion. “And why would that be, miss?”

Vic tilted her head, now uncertain. “You were the man I passed on the ramp, were you not?”

His face remained expressionless. “That I was.”

“Well, my clumsiness almost knocked you in the water. I do apologize. I would have stopped and apologized then, but…” she paused and looked around to make certain her mother hadn’t returned. “I was in the process of escaping my mother,” she whispered. “She can be interminably tiresome.”

Adams glanced at Jeffries before replying. “Think nothing of it, miss. Takes more than a little thing like you to knock me off my feet.”

“If you mean that, will you shake my hand?” She extended her hand once again.

He held his blackened hands up for her to see. “My hands are dirty, miss.”

 “I don’t care if they’re dirty.” Her hand remained stubbornly extended.

Adams looked at his captain for guidance in the matter.

Jeffries looked wearily at the door of the cabin. “Better get on with your duties, Adam. I believe the Miss is being sought by her mother.”

Adams disappeared, leaving Vic with her hand unshaken. She glared up at the Captain. “Why wouldn’t you let him shake my hand?”

“Some might think it improper.” His eyes fixed to something behind her.

“I really don’t care what ‘some’ might think.” She followed his stare and groaned. Her mother was climbing up the ladder from the captain’s birth. “Oh, dear!”

“I doubt a certain person would have been so nonchalant about a crewmember touching her daughter.”

“You’re right about that. She would have no doubt had a fit.”

“Which would have no doubt gone badly on my first mate.” Jeffries frowned. “It would perhaps be better for you to stay clear of my men on this journey. Sailors aren’t accustomed to young ladies. I would not wish to punish them for situations that can be avoided with but a trifle of care on your part.”

She huffed. “It’s because I’m a girl. You wouldn’t be warning me away from the crew if I were a boy.”

Nathan didn’t correct her, but in truth, he would have still worried about her safety. It was not unheard of for a cabin boy to be abused by his fellow crew members, despite a captain’s best efforts to keep him safe.

Noting Mrs. Carlton’s angry gestures, he added, “I believe your mother is requesting your presence.”

Victoria sighed. “Will you at least shake my hand?”

He was going to refuse. He knew with her mother twenty feet away, he should refuse. Yet, the girl’s fresh sincerity made it difficult to refuse her kind gesture. Certain he would later regret it, he took her tiny hand in his and started to bring it to his lips.

“No!” She pulled her hand away. “I want you to shake my hand, as you would a man,”

“As you wish.” He gave her hand a firm hard shake. He frowned as he watched her flex her fingers after the shake. “I hope I didn’t break anything?”

“No.” She sparkled with happiness. “It just felt different than I thought it would.”

“It seemed to me you were an old hand at this.”

She smiled up at him and confessed in a conspiratorial tone. “Actually, you’re the first man I’ve shaken hands with….except for my father, of course.”

He pretended surprise. “I’m shocked.”

She nodded in agreement that such a thing should be shocking. “To be honest, it’s not that easy to find a man brave enough to shake hands with me.” She then rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “You must be very brave, for not only did you shake my hand, but you did so with my mother watching.”

Nathan glanced at Mrs. Carlton. He was leaning more towards ‘imprudent,’ rather than ‘brave’ to describe his behavior. “Well, your brave captain needs to return to work. And you must return to your mother, where you will no doubt learn exactly why you should not shake hands with strange men.”