Seacrets Read online

  Seacrets

  By

  Adrianna Wingate

  Phaidrag Publishing

  2011

  Dedication

  To my dearest friend, Andrea Murray.

  You always had the faith in me that no one else ever did.

  ...See you on the other side, my friend.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblence to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons is coincidental and beyondthe intent of either the author or publishier.

  Phaidrag Publishing, Inc.

  P.O. Box 31

  Center Ossipee Village

  NH 03814

  603-986-1472

  [email protected]

  http://adriannaspages.hubpages.com/

  Copywright © 2011 by Adrianna Wingate

  Front cover art by Rebekkah J Nelson

  Front cover graphics by Joshua Defeo

  S

  Chapter One

  “Captain, is everything alright! I heard ya shoutin’ from the deck and thought ya had gone asunder by drunkards sneakin’ aboard ship ta steal from ya!” The quartermaster raised his voice a second time. “Sir, I say, are ya alright!”

  Captain Daniel Hargendon awoke wild-eyed and breathless, drenched in sweat. He shook his head to adjust to his surroundings. The back of his throat was sore and dry from shouting out in his sleep. He cleared his throat and was at last able to speak.

  "Yes of course, man, I'm fine. I just had a bad dream, is all. I’m guessin’ the brandy I've kept in my desk has at last gone rancid. I’ll purchase a new flask in the mornin' before we set sail. Good night Kilern, and not a word o’ this ta the other men. I wouldna want them ta think me ill and unable ta charter this ship. Understand?" Daniel’s words were curt and short.

  "As ya wish Captain, I’ll not speak a word." With a quick snap of his boot heals and a sharp salute, Kilern left the cabin. When out of site of his Captain, Kilern asserted a snide half grin and to himself derived sadistic pleasure in his thoughts knowing Daniel would be humiliated should the crew find him to be in a weakened state. James Kilern has served as second in command to Daniel’s father, John Hargendon, and harbored an unspoken hatred for his young commander.

  Upon Kilern’s departure Daniel experienced an eerie sense of premonition. He restlessly moved about his bunk. Surrendering to the fact sleep would not come without the aide of his favored elixir. He threw his muscular legs over the side of his bunk. He winced as the shock of the frigid oak planks below his bare feet reminded him the woodstove needed restoking.

  He gave an exagerated stretch of his arms, tousseled his thick dark mane and strode to his desk. He kept a small flask of brandy in the drawer for sleepless nights like this one. Daniel took a long drag off of the flask, ran a shirtsleeve across his mouth and grimaced at the burn in his throat. Returning to his bunk he kept the flask handy should he need another swig of the fervent cure-all. As he lay back onto the flattened goose down mattress a faint whistle was heard, from a shooting star, capturing his attention.

  Daniel stretched out wide his lean muscular arms, clasping his hands behind his head. He stared lazily out of the great multi-paned bay window captivated by the sapphire and diamond studded twilight sky. The gentle rocking and eerie creaking sounds made from the swelling of elm and oak stringers lulled his masculine spirit. He let forth a heavy sigh of relief, as there was something about the soft lapping sounds of the incoming tide against the hull of the Arabella and the icy scent of January sea mist quelled the angst within his restless soul. He had just finished his last meal on dry land, at the White Horse Inn, and is anxious to set sail for home. He knows he'd never get away with not letting his men have one last night in the brothels and taverns. It would be three months before they will set foot upon dry land or see another female. He felt he must give them their due.

  He thought himself a stern Captain, but a fair one. Not very often does he show his malleable nature, especially around the men of his ship. “They must be reigned in or they should run amok the mission”, he thought, which is to bring back to the Americas their trade with the Irish and English. He too knows he will not set foot on dry land or hold another woman’s soft flesh against his in the night for three long months.

  “Regardless, I must remain in complete control of the crew when they return hung over from the revels of the night.” Daniel also reminded himself it was never his practice to engage in temptresses or whiskey the night before setting sail.

  “Ah, but it is my fate if I am to captain this great vessel.” He chuckled at his thoughts as he wished he were with his men that very moment knocking back warm brandy and nuzzling some buxom barmaid willing to throw down with him when the last candle would be doused. To feel the thighs of womanly warmth and softness wrapped about his was more than he could bear to think about.

  With thoughts of tomorrow's itinerary filling his head and a gut full of warm brandy, his eyes once again became heavy and at last went adrift into deep slumber. The brisk night air is blowing in off the sea and his impenetrable dream sequence begins anew.

  Daniel sees himself walking along a seaside dock in the early dawn hours, the sun not entirely up. He senses a presence close by. A dark hooded figure slowly approaches. He is captivated by billowy furls of black velvet surrounding this dark angel of his dreams. The gold and fuchsia tapestry of the ocean horizon envelopes her form like a blazing halo, further convincing him she is not of this world.

  The sight of her dream-like approach intensifies his feelings of excitement. As he gains closeness to the shrouded figure, he recalls deep feelings of profound happiness.

  His senses fill with the warm heady fragrance of New England mayflowers. He breathes in deep, natures intoxicating perfume and allows the scent to envelop him and it invokes memories of a lustful nature. The mysterious veiled figure undulates to his left, almost touching but not quite. He shudders as waves of warmth lick up his muscular margin. Feelings of excitement swept his rock hard form with an intensity not ever recalled.

  He sees the gentle puffs of her breath as her pleasing mouth begins to take form of barely audible whispered words. “Ta mo chroi ishtig Ge deo”.

  It had been ages since Daniel had heard or spoken the language of his native Ireland. He recalled the words to mean, “My heart is in you forever.” Her breath in his ear sent shivers of a lustful nature through his entire body.

  Their language, yet another of the many elements, systematically stripped away from the people of Ireland during King Henry VIII reign. Since then Ireland’s sons and daughters had been forbidden to speak to one another in any other form except English.

  Daniel’s attention is returned to his twilight seraph. Her diminutive graceful hand reached out from beneath the oversized velvetinous sleeve of her cape.

  Just as they touch, Daniel recalled a loud explosion and sees a slow violent plume of crimson and gold surround his dark angel. Daniel, at once, recognized the acrid scent of gunpowder. The blinding eruption caused him to guard his eyes, as he fell to his knees and a hard lump formed in his throat. The hot rush of tears fell without restraint from his burning eyes as he looks to find his ethereal goddess had vanished…

  Now wide-awake, he paces within his cabin wondering who this mysterious woman of his dreams might be. He knew it was not the woman he is betrothed to for the last eight years. She is a beauty to behold, for certain, but her form is not as slight and delicate as this woman of whom he'd dreamt.

  He returned to his desk and in the top drawer, he pulled out a small hand painted portrait of his soon to be wife. Mallory Gilmore. A bargain had been struck between the family patriarchs when Mallory was just a child of ten and three
summers.

  Daniel was then twenty and in no manner ready to settle down to hearth and home. But the deal was struck, nonetheless, to merge the families together and make huge their wealth within the trading industry between Europe and America. Since Daniel was the eldest son and had not sought to engage himself to any one maiden, he was the perfect choice.

  Daniel had never taken the betrothal seriously until the previous spring when Mallory's father announced the couples engagement and wedding date for the following May when

  Mallory's father, Leif, became anxious for the pairing ever since John Hargendon’s passing a year ago and feared that Daniel would not keep to his father’s promising.

  Daniel knew Mallory had not been faithful while he was away at sea… and neither was he, for that matter. Nonetheless, he had discovered the depths of Mallory's sexual erudition two years prior. He smiled down at the picture of Mallory remembering how desirable she could be, and what thoroughly lusty times he had experienced with her. At nine and ten summers, Mallory was quite learnered in the ways of seduction. But being the gentleman Daniel is he never made mention of her forwardness in bed. He just smiled and enjoyed himself. Now, however, it is time to pay the price of his father's bargaining.

  “On balance marriages are for convenience and gain and she is a beautiful woman that will do my bidding and warm my bed as desired.” he reasoned.

  He is also quite confident that while far away on another continent he will no doubt keep many paramours, as he does now, and is certain she will do the same. He will be able to increase his business holdings, increase his family's wealth and status in the community, and Mallory will be kept in the luxury standing she has always been accustomed to her entire life.

  “Sounded like a good transaction at the time”, he reasoned, but now that it is about to happen, he senses the proverbial noose to tighten about his neck. He instinctively reaches up as though that noose were already in place. Convinced he is doing what is best for all involved, he makes his way back to his bunk and buries himself within the coarse wool cover and prays for swift daylight.

  §

  Chapter Two

  The spray of bloody mucous speckled the dingy ragged shirtsleeve of Richard McCoveny, with each round of hearty laughter. The whites of his eyes bloodshot and the rims of each lid, dried and excoriated.

  Richard and his friend Albert Godsey sat in the back of the White Horse tavern sharing old seafaring stories of their younger days. They had been together for greater than two hours laughing at what young roguish idiots they had been and how quickly it had all passed by them.

  Richard suddenly became somber and the other silently watched and wondered what had transpired to change his friend’s mood.

  "What's wrong my friend?" said Albert Godsey. "Ya seem ta be far and away some where."

  "Ahh Godsey, mate, I am in a quandary about what ta do with my darlin' daughter Maura. I am in failin’ health and am so dreadfully afraid she will have to succumb ta some bloody Englishman for her very survival, lest I can find another way ta protect her from the mean streets of this city."

  "Why hasn't she yet married?" Godsey queried.

  “Because I am a stubborn old fool, that’s why. I taught my daughter more the ways of a lad than lass, I'm afraid. She has a temper no man could put up with for long and most men are intimidated by her intellect and her beauty." Richard scorned himself.

  “Then why can she not become a school marm and support herself that way? You had educated her well, as I recall. Mayhap put aside a dowry, save some willing male to marry her in future." Godsey suggested.

  "I'm afraid ya have been away from the emerald Isle too long, Godsey. Ya see King George the III hath carried over the rulin’s of his predecessor, Henry the VIII, whereby he forbade all Irish women to venture inta any such learnered knowledge. The English have been tryin’ ever since, ta force us together, ta control us and take our lands.

  So any Irish lass not wantin’ the fate o’ the streets has got no choice but ta wed an Englishman for her survival. I am dyin’ Godsey, I know it, and I'm afraid my Maura will be at the mercy o’ the English. She will surely be beaten, either, into submission or ta death because she is o’ strong will and mind." Richard continued.

  “I’ve asked ya here tonight, my old friend o’ the Sea, ta help me in my time of need. I usually do not like ta call in markers, but I have no other choice." The old man begged.

  “Wait a minute Richard I am but a man of meager earnings, myself. I could no more afford a dowry than you. I have never even been married! How would ya expect me ta care for her?" His terrified friend replied.

  “I don't want ya ta take care of her, Godsey. She will be able ta care for herself, once in the Americas. I want ya ta take her with ya ta Boston, New England. I've heard the Colonists have settled in quite nicely there and doing well. They'll be in need of governesses and teachers. Shoppe keepers will need seamstresses ta make clothin’ for the people settlin’ there. Boston, I hear, is up and comin’ and the people will pay immigrants to do their fetchin' for them. I also have a female friend resides there, Mary Turlington. I used to give her extra for doin' my wash.”

  “Yes, I'm sure ya did, ya old scallywag, heh, heh!" joked Godsey, elbowing Richard in his side.

  “No, no, 'tis nothing like that you old letch. She lives not far from the docks and has a mercantile at waters edge. I used ta stop there and purchase my pipe tobacco and whiskey for the return home. She was quite a bit older than myself. Mayhap she's not even livin' any longer, but she has a son, goes by the name of Thomas. Thomas Turlington." Richard recalls, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. “I’m sure if I send the money planned for her dowry and ask that the lad put her ta workin’ until she can support herself, she'll be just fine.”

  "And what would ya have me do? Ya know as well as I, havin’ her board a ship with burley young men, set out ta sea for three months, would surely cost ya daughter her vanity...if ya know of what I speak, Richard. I think ya can remember what it was like for months at a time at sea. All we could do was drink ourselves ta sleep night after night, ta avoid yearnin’ for the fair maidens awaitin’ us at Port." recalled Godsey.

  Richards eyebrows lifted in surprise at the idea he was about to propose to his shipmate. “I will put her in disguise. Yes, that's it, Godsey! I will disguise her as a young lad. Mayhap you could convince ya ship's Captain he is in need of a cabin boy?" He pleaded for his friend’s acceptance of his idea.

  “I don't know, Richard, ya ask much of me. I know I owe ya my very life for the thousand times ya pulled my sorry arse out o’ the fires, but shite man, ya are askin' me ta lie ta my Captain and that could mean a floggin' at sea, if found out. You really think the ships Captain would be around a maiden for three months at sea and not know he's really a she!" Godsey replied, while trying to keep his voice from being over heard by the other men that would be aboard the Arabella that next eventide.

  There was a long silence between the two old shipmates. Godsey knew he owed his life to Richard, many times over. But could he risk the lash if found out he had allowed a stowaway to board ship? And a female stowaway, at that! It would surely cause an uprising that could jeopardize the life of the girl, for one, and the ships cargo, should fights break out between the men over the maiden.

  “Please help my daughter, Godsey, for I know I will be dead by next spring. The pain in my chest gets bigger and bigger as time pushes on and I need ta know my Maura is well off for the future."

  Godsey took one last long drag off the ale in his mug and then ordered the strongest whiskey the barkeep had in his stock. He looked into Richards’s eyes and could see his friend was very ill. His pallor, ashen grey, his eyes, careworn from many nights worrying about the fate of his daughter, once he should pass. Godsey held up his tankard and slammed it into Richard's. “Don’t worry, my friend, I will see ta ya last wishes. But I can tell ya this, it will not be easy keepin’ her identity a secret, but I will do my best ta keep her
safe o'er the long journey ta the Americas."

  Richard breathed a great sigh of relief and hugged his friend, slapping him several times on the back, as men do.

  The deal was struck. Now the difficult part was to convince Maura this was in her best interest.

  §

  "No Father! I willna go!" Maura cried out in utter outrage at her father’s plans for her future.

  "Now Listen ta reason, lass. Ya must heed what I say. This is the only logical way for ya ta survive those vile English bastards. Would ya be put upon by one o’ them?" Richard shouted back at his daughter.

  "If ya stay here and I should pass on, what will become o’ ya’? Use your head, gel. I raised ya ta be more intelligent than this childish display ya be exhibitin'. I'll hear no more o’ this foolishness. The deal has been struck for ya safe passage to the Americas. Ya will meet with my good friend Albert Godsey, behind the White Horse Tavern just before dawn. There ya will be given a disguise as the Captain's cabin boy."

  "Cabin boy?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Father I have hardly looked the boy in many a summer. How do ya suppose I manage that, now, at my age and obvious development." she looked down upon her womanly curves.

  "You will don the cabin boy garb you are given by Godsey and tape ya breasts down as tightly to ya frame as possible. It would be very dangerous for you to be found out. This will be the toughest part o’ the whole of it, Maura. After you reach the Americas you will be met by some other good friends o’ mine, The Turlingtons, and then it will be clear sailin’ for you from then on gel."

  With tears welling up in her eyes, she pleaded with her father not to send her away. "Please father, who will tend ta ya in ya final days? I would be the one to do those final things for ya, not some stranger." Her tears were flowing, she could not stop them from falling.