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Chapter 17
William sighed in frustration. He was standing before his ornithology class, wondering how to bridge the gap. It was not a gap he had ever given any thought to before, but now, when he had finally noticed it and wished to cross it, it seemed a gaping chasm across which his voice could barely be heard. Physically, it was the five feet between him and the first row of tables in the room. Psychologically, he was up against an entire education system whose machinery was so tuned to mass-producing college graduates in great numbers that the individual faces and minds had ceased to matter. He could, he knew from prior experience, teach these twenty students for an entire semester and never learn a single one of their names. He had done it before, and he knew that his attitude was to blame, but he had not realized until now that the indifference was mutual. The students, too, had grown so accustomed to the anonymity of a lecture hall that even here, in this more intimate setting, they acted as passive learners only. They had filed in silently, speaking neither to him nor to each other, opened their notebooks and sat with pens in hand, waiting for him to begin speaking.
William knew his part. He was to hand out the syllabus listing assigned readings that the students never did; he would discuss his office hours, when he would be available to visits from students who never visited. Then he would begin his opening lecture, and for the rest of the semester, those students who came to class and stayed awake would take diligent notes and offer no part of their own minds to the group. Suddenly the semester loomed before him like an insurmountable obstacle, and he felt too exhausted to face it. A memory rose to mock him; he saw an unconventional teacher in an unconventional classroom and a group of students huddled about with laughter on their faces and interest in their eyes. He felt a stab of pain but brushed it aside and faced his class. He tossed the stack of syllabi aside.
"Let's go birding. Bring your field guides, but leave your notebooks." He noticed several eyes lighting, and even a few smiles. It's in there somewhere.
He led them through the brilliant August day along a path that wound through the woods and along the shore of Beebe Lake. He discussed the birds they encountered along the way and was surprised at the ease with which this informal teaching style came to him when he didn't think too hard about it. I can do this. And it's more fun that reading notes, too...
They crossed the street and sat in a circle on the lawn of the Cornell Plantations. "I hate to do the summer camp thing, but I want to make sure we introduce ourselves. So lets forego the major/year/school thing and each of you give your first name, your favorite bird, and why it's your favorite. Any reason."
As each student spoke, William jotted down their names and the four-letter abbreviation of the bird they chose beside. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thought, but he was surprised to see how much he could learn about each student from this seemingly insignificant fact.
He wrote the next student's choice mechanically, Kathlyn-WISP, before it occurred to him that the Wilson's Storm-Petrel, a strictly pelagic species breeding on a few rocky islands in the far south Atlantic, was not a bird that he would have expected to hear about in this context. Curious, he waited for her reasons.
"I like them because they look tiny, but they are completely independent of land and can go absolutely anywhere on the ocean. They are totally self-sufficient. I like them because they are one of the most abundant species on earth, and yet most people will never see one. And I like them because they make a cool sound when they flit around in the dark."
William was silent for a moment, hearing another voice in his head. "They are the small dark ones with white throat patches that look like swallows during the day and bats at night...I also love their call. You hear it at night; it's very eerie." He shook himself and faced Kathlyn again. "When have you had the opportunity to see Storm-Petrels?" He asked, trying to hide any discomfiture the class might have noticed in his face.
"Have you heard of the LSO Semester?"
"I sailed with them last May."
"Really? I went last fall. I didn't know much about birds before then, but our chief mate was really into them. She got me so psyched up about them that I couldn't wait to take this course."
William wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who was your chief mate?"
"Lizzy Bennet."
He felt like crying, but found that he was smiling wildly. "I had a feeling. She was first on my trip also. Elizabeth is one of the best teachers I've ever met; I'm not surprised she got you interested. I'll try to live up to the referral."
Kathlyn gestured at the circle of cross-legged students. "I think she'd approve so far," she said with a smile, sensing inexplicably that the observation meant a great deal to the professor.
William smiled at the challenge that Elizabeth had unwittingly issued him. Very well, I accept, and their evaluations will be judge.
several months later...
"Let me get that, guys. I'll be back," William said to the group gathered around him. He grabbed the phone and moved to where he could hear before answering it.
"Will?"
"Charles, is that you?"
"Hey Will, yep it's me. I was just calling to say hello because I thought you might be lonely on a dreary Ithaca evening, and...what is all that noise?"
"Charles, thanks for calling, but could I talk to you later sometime? I kind of have twenty people in my house right now."
"You do?" Charles sounded as if William had calmly informed him that he had dyed his hair green. "Who?"
"My ornithology class. Their final is the day after tomorrow, so we're having a little dinner study party thing."
"You have twenty undergrads in your house for dinner. How long are they going to be there?"
"Until the brownies run out, I suppose," William responded cheerfully. He was enjoying the conversation immensely.
There was a pause while Charles digested his latest intelligence. "Can I call you tomorrow, or is the local elementary school coming over for tea?"
"Call me then. How long are you on shore for?"
"Another five weeks. My next class just got here a week ago."
"Okay. I'll ask you all about it tomorrow. Thanks for calling. And Charles?"
"Yeah?"
"It's really your fault, you know."
eleven weeks later...
William's was one of a long string of messages on Charles' long-neglected voicemail.
"Hi Charles, I know you're at sea, but I wanted to let you know that I've got a new phone number this semester. I moved into the Baker Court dorms as faculty-in-residence, so my new number is (607) 253-1259. Call me when you get back and tell me how your trip was..." Charles shook in his head in wonder and realized that in his surprise he hadn't written a digit of the number Will gave. He sighed and replayed the message.
two months later...
"Are you doing fieldwork this summer?" Charles asked.
"Nope. I'm teaching."
"Really? A summer course? Ornithology?"
"Fifth graders."
"What?"
"Yep. I'm science officer and deckhand on the Spirit of Derbyshire. Summer camp programs."
"You're sailing! Will, are you serious? What made you decide to do that?"
"I guess I just miss it. I'm feeling awfully landlocked here. Cayuga Lake isn't cutting it for me."
"Be careful, Will. You're catching the bug."
William laughed without mirth. "Maybe I am."
Charles' warning lingered in William's mind after he hung up the phone. His friend had been joking, but in fact was essentially correct. He had somehow, in his six weeks aboard the Austen, come to love the sea. He had only partially noticed at the time, but somewhere in his determination to learn the art of sailing, a challenge that began as an unspoken competition with Elizabeth, he had learned to be a sailor. He missed the immediacy of life at sea. He missed the challenge and the feeling of capability, of meeting it with alacrity and efficiency. More surprisingly, he missed the community that he had become a part of. He missed the commotion of packing hungrily about a table that was a little too small for all the people it held. He missed being woken up every day, or night, by another human being rather than a computer chip. He missed the enthusiasm for life that radiated from his shipmates' faces and that he knew was reflected in his own.
He had returned to Cornell to find himself beset by restlessness. It baffled him at first, and he tried to combat it by throwing himself into his teaching and, later, into his new role as faculty-in-residence. The latter had, if anything, been a greater challenge than the resurrection of his ornithology class (which, he thought with pride, had been a great success and more fun that he had thought possible). Dorm residents, he had discovered, have little desire for a professor in their midst, and many of the faculty who filled the position were content with keeping a low profile and benefiting from the free living arrangements. But by frequenting TV lounges, dorm events and even holding and ice cream party in his living room, William felt that he had eliminated any hostility and even made a few friends. He had already accepted the position again for the next year, and he hoped his place in the residence halls would continue to grow. And in the meantime, his education with respect to network television had never been better.
But he had finally realized that all this had been an attempt at recapturing a life he had known for six weeks and somehow become infected with. He had realized it one dreary February night, when dusk had fallen at 4:30 in the afternoon and a grey sky spit balls of ice upon a weary campus. Restless again, and unable to identify what it was he sought, he had been flipping through a book of poetry when one piece caught his eye. It was a poem he had been familiar with since his childhood. But reading it again, the feeling that struck him immediately, overwhelmingly, was new. I know this, he thought. And he knew at that moment what he wanted. He knew what he would do with the first free time he had. And he realized the startling truth of how easy it would be for him to give up everything: his cinderblock rooms, the grey city, his professorship, his lab. The thought filled him simultaneously with fear and elation. He was wildly, deliriously happy to have found what it was that had been making his life seem stagnant, and to find that it had a solution. He felt with this knowledge that no challenge was too great, no problem too difficult, so long as he had a goal at last. But he also felt the terror of a departure, as if he stood at the edge of a precipice wanted nothing more than to throw himself off and experience the freefall. He had no idea where he might land.
Since he had announced his intentions of becoming a scientist at age eight, William's life had been reasonably predictable. He had proceeded through his education, taking tests, writing theses and giving presentations when necessary. He had held several postdoctoral fellowships and finally landed here, with a lab, an ornithology class and a tenure. And suddenly he was realizing that he could throw it all away, all of it, in favor of a life without a home or a need of one, where night did not imply sleep, where cleaning toilets was a daily event, where he had learned to laugh again after so many years of frowning.
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
-John Masefield, Sea Fever
Chapter 18
Some explanatory notes: AB stands for Able Bodied Seaman, which is basically the first step in the Coast Guard licensing system, and something I thought appropriate for Darcy on both a literal and figurative level. Also, it was customary on ships of old for the officers to be addressed formally, as "Mr. So-and-so."
a year and change later...
Lizzy arrived a little early, but that was all right because she would have the chance to scope out the crowd. People-watching was one of her favorite pastimes, particularly in a new place, and the local bar was as likely a vantage point as any.
Initially she sat down at the bar itself, but when she noticed a large table peopled by jackets that read Spirit of Derbyshire, she reconsidered. She was 90% certain that she would be hired to drive that particular ship for the next five months, so meeting her new crew seemed like a logical step.
But as she approached the table, the jacket with its back to her stood up and turned around. Her instinct was to flee, but tempting as it sounded she crushed the urge instantly; it was too late. Elizabeth Bennet and William Darcy stood face to face once again.
"Um..." she swallowed and could manage no more.
"Uh..." he took a deep breath, "Elizabeth. What a surprise. You should sit down. I was just..." He pointed toward the restrooms and bolted, neglecting to make any introduction at the table where he gestured for her to sit. Elizabeth was puzzled, however. She could hardly say that he had been polite, but on the other hand she could vouch that saying anything at all during that moment had required a colossal strength of will; more effort than she had ever before seen him expend on civility. Meanwhile, she felt she had better introduce herself to the extremely curious pairs of eyes that remained about the table. She put on the most genuine smile she could muster.
"Hey, I'm Lizzy Bennet. I think I'm going to be relief captain on Derbyshire for the next few months."
The eyes became instantly warmer when she revealed her identity as a member of their ilk. They introduced and identified themselves as the engineer, the bosun, the science officer ("ed. officer" in on-board parlance), the cook and several deckhands. That left a mate and however many more deckhands she might have on board at the moment.
There was a pause, but finally the engineer took the plunge, "So it looks like you know Will already?"
"I sailed with him once. On the Pride of Austen." Elizabeth decided that keeping it short was her safest bet.
"He's talked about that trip. Sounds like he had a great time."
"Yeah, I guess he must have..." Vague. Stay vague. But her curiosity won out, "What...what's he, uh, doing here?"
"Well, he's our mate! Or your mate, I guess," the young ed officer, introduced as Fred, piped. Elizabeth cringed at a double entendre she had never noticed before.
"Mate? But he's...he's...a professor!" Good, Lizzy; nothing like coming off completely brainless to your new crew.
"Oh, he's a sailor also," Fred enthused, "He was ed officer here last summer, and an awfully good one despite his claim that he'd never worked with 5th graders before. Over the winter he got his AB, so he came back as mate." William Darcy: role model. Perish the thought.
A voice from behind Elizabeth made her freeze once again.
"Are you discussing your senior officer, Mr. Wentworth?" It was delivered in a tone of a principal to a naughty school child, but even through her desire to crawl under the table in shame at having been caught prying the crew for information, Elizabeth recognized the joke. Teasing, after all, was one form of social interaction that she did have a fairly firm grip on.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy, sir. And I'm discussing you with your senior officer, Captain Bennet."
At this Elizabeth felt duty bound to face him. With a weak smile, she affirmed, "I'm meeting Helen here tonight to talk about driving this summer." Helen Reynolds, owner and primary captain of the Spirit of Derbyshire was ready to turn day-to-day command over to another so she could devote time to some of the other education programs she was in the process of creating.
If he was anything but happy to hear this news, William gave no sign of it. "That's great! We have a really good crew this summer and I'm sure everyone will love working with you." He smiled at the rest of the table and Elizabeth could instantly see his protective instincts toward the rest of the much-younger crew. It was a feeling she recognized from her relationship with students at LSO, but it was less common among a crew itself. As for them, he might have been Dad, the president, and Santa Claus all rolled into one from the way they treated him. Elizabeth could see that being on good terms with the entire crew would hinge on her relationship with William Darcy. She could also see that, for the first time since they met, she was treading on his territory.
There was generally some awkwardness for a new captain arriving on a ship with an experienced mate. Elizabeth could sympathize: it was hard for a mate to be under the command of someone who knew little about the ship but possessed the necessary Coast Guard-approved piece of paper. What was rare was for that mate to be the favorite of his crew; generally this rank enjoyed more of a scapegoat position than anything else. But William had a history with the Derbyshire already, and had begun as what amounted to a deckhand with some extra responsibilities. To this crew he was one of their own. It seemed like a recipe for disaster if she had ever seen one.
Meanwhile, William was the picture of friendliness. "Have you sailed on the Derbyshire before?"
"Never. Tomorrow, I hope." Elizabeth was fairly sure that this was how she answered his question.
"Do you know Helen already? She's a fantastic captain; I learned amazing amounts from her last summer, about teaching as well as about sailing. Actually, her teaching style reminds me a little of yours. I didn't know the first thing about teaching ten-year-olds last year, but she really helped me through it and I had a great time. You'll love the summer camp that we run. The kids come for two weeks straight, so you can really watch them learn-unlike in our day sails. Helen designed the entire program herself, and she's sort of perfecting it as she goes-trial and error. But the nice thing is, since she owns the ship she has total freedom with her programs, and she'll listen to anyone's input. Even me, and I hardly ranked anything last year as ed. officer. Knowing that I'd be taken seriously really helped my confidence in my teaching instincts, and it's the same with everyone," he gestured to the rest of the table, "even if you're fifteen she'll treat you with whatever amount of respect your work commands. It's really pretty phenomenal."
Fortunately for Elizabeth, an interruption from one of the deckhands shifted the conversation and left her to digest the import of the longest speech she had ever heard from William Darcy's mouth. Though she was by no means oblivious to the size shoes she was about to step into, what lingered in her mind was not her newfound doubts in her professional abilities, but William's curiously high regard for Helen Reynolds.
Chapter 19
Helen Reynolds looked more like a supermodel than a sailor, Elizabeth noticed as a leggy blonde strolled into the bar. The woman was not someone she would peg as fitting the profession, but her jacket, identical to those grouped around the table, belied Elizabeth's first impression. She spotted her crew immediately and approached with a winning smile. Nearly as quickly she identified the unfamiliar woman sitting with them. She extended her hand, "You must be Lizzy Bennet? It's good to meet you finally--I've heard great things about you from LSO."
Frederick, acting as self-appointed peanut gallery burst in, "She's sailed with Will, Helen!" Apparently, this piece of information was an introduction all its own. Elizabeth cringed.
"Oh, you know each other?" The two in question nodded their heads, Elizabeth more reluctantly than William. "Well, should I hire her, Will?"
Elizabeth cringed again, but after an almost imperceptible pause William answered yes.
Helen was perceptive enough. "Yes?"
"Definitely." No pause this time.
"Why?"
"She's a good sailor, a good teacher, a good dancer and an honest critic. You'll like her."
An honest critic? Elizabeth tried to wrap her brain around that one. What is he talking about? I was harsh. Really harsh. He does mean that night? Why else would he have talked about dancing? Since her last meeting with William and subsequent talk with Richard, Elizabeth had tried to be somewhat more open minded about her relationships. Although she hadn't really taken anyone up on more than the odd date, she could now admit that a good portion of her reaction to William had stemmed from her own fear of the word love rather than from what he had actually offered. In retrospect, although she still agreed with everything she had said that night, she thought she might have showed a little more sensitivity to his confession instead of bulldozing him and then hoofing it out as fast as possible. She certainly felt that he had enough reason to hate her to make him a very bad employment recommendation. Apparently she had miscalculated this man once again.
Helen had been regarding her prospective employee and noted the confusion that flitted across Elizabeth's face. She guessed that there was more between the two than William was referring to, but she considered William to be tactful enough to make his opinion clear to her without giving offense to Elizabeth. His recommendation had been entirely positive.
"Can you move on board tomorrow, Elizabeth?"
The woman in question sputtered her interview hadn't actually involved any speaking on her part, which seemed like a rather unusual way of going about things. "Should I hire William for all my job interviews, then?"
Helen smiled and put her hand familiarly on William's shoulder, "Well, I figure he's the one who's going to have to work with you most of the time, not me. I know you're experienced from your resume and the people I've been in touch with. So, if we're go from a qualifications standpoint and Will's go from a personal standpoint, I guess you're hired."
But it was with very mixed feelings that Elizabeth nodded her thanks to William. Are we go from a personal standpoint, Will? Can we work together?
William gave her a small but strangely reassuring smile in return, and then broadened it as he turned to Helen. "Trust you to do it the odd way. Isn't it a bit strange for the mate to be hiring the captain?"
Helen grinned back. "Yes, admittedly strange, but I'm already stuck with you, my dear. You've signed your contract and unless you do something awful I can't really fire you."
Elizabeth found herself both intrigued and a little perturbed at Helen and William's interaction. He was far more at ease than she had ever seen him. Even with his cousin he had not achieved this kind of friendly banter. She wondered whether this new personality was reserved for Helen or extended to others as well.
Helen Reynolds waved cheerfully at the backpack-clad figure coming down the dock.
"Right on time for turn-to, Lizzy! What's your pick--deck wash? Head cleanmmmph?" A hand came over her mouth, and the newcomer watched in surprise as William Darcy neatly pinned both of Helen's hands behind her back. Where'd that move come from?
"Be nice, boss." He turned to Elizabeth, and the grin he flashed left her speechless, "She's not serious. You get time to unpack before we put you to work. The catch is that you have to be able to unpack in an hour or less, because after that we go sailing and you work. Sound good?" Elizabeth nodded mutely, wondering just how the tables had so neatly been turned on her. Boats were supposed to be her domain, not his, and now she felt like the latest volunteer deckhand to be handed a paintbrush.
Helen was speaking to her again, ?"Well, Lizzy, I guess he's right. At any rate, I don't appear to have any say in the matter. I wish you all the luck in the world with my hooligans, by the way. Come on board, and maybe I can convince Will to give you a tour. You two can catch up. How do you know each other, again?"
As William opened his mouth to answer, his countenance darkened. "We, um, Elizabeth was chief mate on my first sailing trip." By the end of his speech he was mumbling and studying with interest the rust that was building up on an inconsequential deck fitting.
Helen was an astute enough observer, but she felt in this case than anyone who did not notice the sudden change of atmosphere would have to be dead, if not buried. Her voice took on a stronger note of authority as she studied each in turn, "Well, that's a while ago. Maybe on your tour you can get acquainted again."
Elizabeth recognized that Helen's claim of powerlessness over her crew was not in the remotest sense true; she and William had been issued an order, not just to take a look at the ship together, but to learn to get along. For her own part, Elizabeth was a little relieved by William's show of embarrassment--it made her own discomfort seem more bearable.
William gave Elizabeth a brief but thorough tour of the vessel and carried her bag to the master's cabin for her. She was pleased with her accommodations, and the ship in general seemed quite well-equipped. Her guide was knowledgeable, businesslike and polite--too polite. Although she could see that he was trying, he was not able to achieve the degree of ease that he had displayed earlier. For herself, she knew she was giving him no help whatsoever at carrying out Helen's wishes. She found that she had no reference point, no goal to strive for in her attitude. In fact, a part of her was comforted by William's retreat; at least it was something she would have expected of him. He had taken her completely off guard two years ago, and his mere presence on the Derbyshire proved yet again that he was utterly unpredictable. She could feel herself shrink away from him in mistrust and confusion.
William's agitation, which he had sufficiently quashed the night before, had blossomed hopelessly out of his control with Helen's question. He began to replay mentally the moment in his life of which he was least proud. Each time he thought of it he saw his pompousness, his conceit, and, in light of his presence on the Derbyshire, his hypocrisy. Each time he thought of it, he recognized that it fell to him now to treat Elizabeth as naturally as possible; she could hardly be expected to take the initiative in re-establishing their interaction. And each time he thought of it, he felt himself less and less able to face her. Depositing her in her cabin, he fled back on deck to resume his coordination of the morning turn-to activities.
Helen spent much of her day observing the pair. Elizabeth was on the foredeck learning the rig and the sailhandling procedures for much of that time. She was extremely friendly with the rest of the crew, treated them and their understanding of the vessel with respect, and seemed to make a good beginning at friendship with them. She was equally adept at joining the educational program, establishing a firm but funny demeanor with the young students. With William, however, she gave no hint of these qualities. She spoke to him only when strictly necessary, and even then she seemed uncomfortable, jittery and short. William, though he appeared to wish their encounters would be otherwise, could not seem to overcome the manner in which she treated him and responded in kind. As the day progressed, Helen began to have doubts about hiring Elizabeth. Five months could be an awfully long time when William's contract spanned the first three.
William and Helen watched Elizabeth move forward once again to handle sail. "Is this going to work, Will?" She spoke plainly and gently.
"Is what going to work?" Will asked, feigning ignorance and dreading her answer.
"Will, I'm not going to ask, or even pretend to guess what the history between you two is, but it's obvious that you aren't exactly inseparable old friends. Now, Elizabeth Bennet has an impressive list of recommendations, but I refuse to have my ship commanded by two people who can't communicate. It just doesn't make sense to me--it's not safe, and it certainly isn't productive. Now, do you think this is something that the two of you can overcome, or should I find someone else to drive this summer?"
Helen had a way of making William feel like an unruly schoolboy in front of a long-suffering but kindly principal. He quelled the instinct to apologize for his bad behavior, though, and applied himself in earnest to her question.
"Helen, I swear to you there is nothing I would wish more than to get along with Elizabeth Bennet. Unfortunately I've done some things in the past that she has every right not to forgive me for," he paused, frowning, "but I've sailed with her before and I can't imagine anyone better suited to drive the Derbyshire. She is incredibly valuable, and I would hate to be the one to make the program lose out. I'll try, Helen, but I can't promise. In the end, I can only ask; she has to be the one to forgive."
As closely as she thought she knew her mate and former education officer, Helen realized that for the first time she was being given a glimpse into his heart. She glanced forward, suddenly intrigued by the woman who was patiently helping a nine-year old to make fast a line. When the little boy succeeded, Elizabeth cheered and gave him a high five. The boy's face lit in response, grinning and triumphant. Helen looked back at William and took his hand gently to draw him back from the same scene. "All right, William," she said softly, "I'll give you a chance. But for all our sakes, please don't screw it up."
William's smile was slow in coming, but when it reached its full force it was magnificent. Looking aft, Elizabeth noticed the attractive picture that William made, holding Helen's hand and smiling. The feeling she experienced was neither attractive nor familiar, however, and she turned away to face an old if capricious friend. The face of the water glittered with flecks of sun in the morning breeze.
Chapter 20
Helen continued to try to facilitate a dialogue between William and Elizabeth. Nearing the end of the first of two three-hour sails she decided they should engage in some one-on-one time. Bringing the Derbyshire to the dock was the first major item that Elizabeth needed to learn as master of the vessel. As it happened, William was quite practiced at this. It had been one of the first things that Helen had taught him when he came on board as mate just weeks ago.
"Will, why don't you walk Lizzy through parking? Then she can give it a try this afternoon. I'm sure she's a quick study."
William nodded and took a deep breath, resolving to carry through on his pledge to Helen. He took the con, standing where he could reach the gear shift with one hand and the helm with the other. Meeting Elizabeth's eyes at last, he gave a sheepish smile which bubbled into a tiny laugh, "It's a little strange. To be teaching you."
No matter how conflicted she might feel toward this man, Elizabeth could not resist the boyish mixture of humility and pride that glowed from William at this moment. She laughed also, and shrugged encouragingly, "Well, you're the mate now." Despite herself, Elizabeth could not keep a twinge of pride out of her own voice. She knew in that instant that she was his influence to be standing at the con of the Derbyshire. Whatever she might have thought of him then, she realized that her treatment of him on the Pride of Austen had only engendered respect. It was an arresting idea, and the thought crossed her mind that it might have some bearing on her view of his behavior at the reunion. She pushed the uncomfortable thought aside.
William's heart flip-flopped at the smile she gave him then. As often as he had seen her bestow that look of genuine encouragement upon others, he realized that this was the first time she had ever directed it toward him. His own smile widened to one of real happiness, "I'm learning to be mate. It's a work in progress."
"Well, I'm learning to park. I've got plenty of insight on being a mate, but if you don't spill on the parking pretty soon here we're going to go straight through the dock."
William laughed once from his belly and conceded her point. "Okay, we usually back in, starboard side to..."
Helen smiled to herself. There had been a definite crackle during that conversation, upon which she had shamelessly eavesdropped. This could turn out to be an interesting summer.
Helen went home that evening reasonably content. All was well on her ship, and she was fairly certain that her new captain and mate would make a good--with any luck a great--team for the summer. William had been true to his word and made a game effort, and Elizabeth had seemed able, perhaps willing, to receive it. The interpersonal electricity they shared was something else altogether. Helen could easily see that William was head over heels for Elizabeth, but their lingering awkwardness seemed to indicate a complex past.
Helen shook these thoughts away as she sailed through her front door, kissed her husband, and happily informed him that he would actually get to see something of her this summer, for she had hired someone to drive.
Indeed, all was well on the Spirit of Derbyshire when Helen left it, but boats are never long without a minor catastrophe, and shortly after dinner the day's disaster announced itself in the form of a bellowed curse from the direction of the head. Frederick tumbled out, hopping on one foot and still shouting. "Passengers! WHY can't they understand the very simple rules? WHY? And it splashed all over my pantleg, too!"
Several others had gathered around him at this point and wrinkled their noses in sympathy at the wet splotches on Frederick's pantleg. The heads on the Spirit of Derbyshire used a vacuum pump to suck away whatever was in the bowl when the seal was opened with a pedal. When the system failed, one of two things generally happened. In the first case, the vacuum pump might not remove all the air from below the bowl. In this case, upon flushing a large bubble of air would escape and splash the contents of the bowl around the general vicinity. In the second case, the macerator pump further down the line might get stuck, backing up previously flushed material and swamping the vacuum pump. In this case, not just air, but contents of the tank would splash around the general vicinity. The latter had been Frederick's fate.
William cursed softly with a roll of his eyes. "Dani, suit up for poop patrol," he addressed the engineer, then the rest of the crew, "Frederick gets next dibs on the washing machine." Elizabeth had been very impressed that morning to find that the Derbyshire was equipped with a washer and dryer which could be used whenever the vessel was connected to shore power and water. She did not doubt that Frederick was also happy about that circumstance at the moment.
"What can I do, William?" She asked, deferring to his authority since she could see that this was something of a dreaded routine for the crew.
"You don't have to, Elizabeth. Dani and I usually do it. I figure the rest of them aren't paid well enough to do this stuff."
"By that reasoning I should help too. Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"
Danielle took over this conversation, seeing that neither was likely to back down. "You can run R2. He lives under the sole in the main hold. Starboard side."
Elizabeth wasn't quite sure who R2 was, at least in this application, but as she peered under the sole board and identified a 20-gallon wet/dry shop-vac Danielle's meaning became obvious. She had never been on a boat with a named vacuum, but the title was clearly appropriate. She hauled out the canister and its appropriate accessories and hauled it off to the head. Danielle and William had disappeared, and she took the opportunity to duck into her cabin and change into the grubbiest, most sacrificial clothes she could find. Returning, she found Danielle returning with three organic-vapor respirators and a box of latex gloves and William already surveying the scene. "Dani, what do you say we pull out the macerator pump and you work on it while Elizabeth and I flush everything out and clean things up?"
Danielle agreed, and they donned their respirators. These particular accessories were not really necessary in the way that they were as protection against paint fumes, but not being able to smell the delectable substance with which they would be working went a long way to making the work a bit easier to stomach. Elizabeth was both amused and intrigued to find that William was prepared to throw himself into this task up to his elbows. Literally. For herself, she was mostly in charge of the power switch on R2 and the connection between the hose and the canister--if the hose got yanked off its mount whatever was in it would spill out at both ends. She was not exactly overtaxed by this duty, and was entertained by the friendly chatter that was maintained throughout the process.
In the course of this conversation, it seemed that the same observation that had struck Elizabeth regarding the mate occurred to him also. He turned to Elizabeth with a conspiratorial grin that was revealed by the crinkling of his eyes and then addressed Danielle in the muffled tones of the respirator. "You know what Elizabeth is thinking? She can't believe the stuffy ol' prof is up to his elbows in crap."
"You, stuffy old prof?" Danielle asked in a tone of mild surprise.
"Don't blame her. I actually introduced myself to her as Dr. Darcy."
"Will!"
"It's true. Right Elizabeth? And that is what you were thinking, isn't it?"
Elizabeth wasn't sure how to respond to this, but she decided to play his game of forthrightness. "Not quite," she shrugged, "What I can't believe is that you're voluntarily up to your elbows in crap."
"Fair enough. She's right, Dani. I always used to do the awful things she asked of me, but I can't claim to have gone about it with a joke and a smile. Remember when you made me wet-vac the bottom of the reefer? That white juicy stuff? It was several hours before I could really forgive you for that one."
"Several hours?" In Elizabeth's opinion, reefer juice should require a minimum of two days to recover from. "That's all? That stuff is even worse than this," she patted R2, "At least you know this has already been eaten! Still have to look forward to that from the stuff that makes reefer juice. Now that I think about it, though, you did go about it with a joke and a smile. I believe you offered me a sip or something."
They all laughed companionably, and William shrugged, "I don't know, Elizabeth. Maybe it was just too disgusting to think about so I resorted to joking. Although you're right, that wasn't really my MO at the time, was it?"
Elizabeth was saved from answering this question by the macerator pump, which Danielle had managed to extract from the plumbing. She held it up for them to see that it was hopelessly tangled by a bit of cotton string. "Women," she rolled her eyes, "sometimes you've got to hate us." She wrapped it in a rag and quitted the head.
William and Elizabeth moved on with the head-repair process, flushing the line with fresh water and liberally applying Clorox to the entire premises. They continued to chat amiably about their experiences on the Austen, which came as a surprise to Elizabeth for two reasons. First, she was surprised to realize that so many of their memories from that trip were positive. It dawned on her that if she hadn't been so caught up in trying to make William miserable, she might have had a really good time. He certainly did, it seemed. More importantly, however, she noticed that William continually steered the conversation to accommodate lighthearted jokes about his own attitude on that trip. It was as if he wished to lead her into just the conversation that she was most shy of: one about the real meaning of his presence on the Derbyshire and, more importantly, how exactly she fit into this meaning. She knew intuitively after her docking lesson that she was intimately connected to the path of his sailing career. What was uncomfortable was the way that her feelings about this revelation swung about with all the whimsy of a breeze on the Line.
Chapter 21
Plumbing disasters averted, life on the Spirit of Derbyshire progressed as usual for a daysailing, young student-teaching vessel. That is to say, life on the Spirit of Derbyshire was hectic. None of the crew minded, however, since as these things go they had it particularly well. They came alongside the dock every evening, meaning that they could sleep whole nights through. They were extremely well fed--Helen was a firm believer that good food did wonders to make up for less robust paychecks. They even had a television, which was considered the height of luxury among schooner crews even though they had to send someone aloft to jiggle the antenna every time they wished to change the channel.
Adding to their good fortune, they saw Helen only infrequently. She was a good person and a good captain, but the reality was that, as the boss and the owner, her appearances generally signaled work: more of it and longer. For a crew who worked twelve-hour days as a matter of course, this was more than enough reason to wish her away. It was not quite Elizabeth's reason, however. She was in the whip-cracking position herself, and therefore had no problem with a little help in the matter. Her reasons for dreading Helen's visits were purely social; somehow, she always felt like she was on the outside of a secret between her boss and her mate. They never tried to exclude her, and it wasn't a tangible secret--a secret joke or a secret fact. It was a secret of interaction, and it was directly related to William. Though Elizabeth and William had a functional, even affable working relationship, they were never able to interact in the way that he did with Helen. He was never totally relaxed around Elizabeth, and on occasion she would go so far as to admit that she had trouble relaxing around him also. He made her feel jumpy and flighty. He threw her off from her usual easygoing nature. She attributed this effect to their old disagreement. She attributed his relationship with Helen to mutual regard.
But a truce, however uneasy and unspoken, was established on the Derbyshire. It functioned well enough, and the long summer days blurred together into a muddled concoction of sunblock, sea spray and pine tar with a stiff breeze presiding over all. Stiff breezes, appreciated though they were, can be destructive, and so Elizabeth found herself, one maintenance afternoon, on the bowsprit demonstrating the making of a clew cringle grommet to William Darcy. It was an intricate piece of ropework that would need to withstand the tension and torque exerted on the jib topsail by the sheets. Both were concentrating intensely on maintaining an even tension throughout the grommet. But the sad fact of being an officer on a sailing ship is that the crew must always have questions. They were interrupted by Frederick's voice.
"Hey Mom and Dad! It's getting late, do you want me to stop prepping those bulwarks and mix up some primer?" The crew had recently adopted the habit of referring to Elizabeth and William by these titles, much to their mutual discomfort, but this was the first time that they had been addressed as such. William finally felt called upon to protest.
"Really Fred, why did you guys have to come up with that? Your parents? And yes, start priming."
"Simple," he replied, "You're both always telling us what to do and you're both ancient as the hills!"
"Ancient! Elizabeth isn't ancient!"
"Whatever, Dad," Frederick laughed mischievously then dodged away to his painting.
Elizabeth had found William's protest intriguing, and ventured a query, "By that were you implying that you are ancient, William?"
"Well, seeing as two-thirds of the crew can't drink legally, yes, I would qualify as ancient."
"But that defeats your gallant defense of me, since you can't be much older than I am."
"Sure I am. How old are you?"
"I'm thirty-one."
"Oh. I'm thirty-four."
"See?"
"Well how come I look so old, then? I found a gray the other day." He pouted charmingly.
Elizabeth considered this question with mock sincerity. "Ithaca," she concluded.
"Ithaca?"
"Definitely. I think I aged at least twice as fast there also. It must be the weather. Actually, considering, you seem to be doing quite well." She gave him a frank appraisal that left him breathless and feeling stripped of his ratty work shorts and t-shirt. The conversation missed a beat, and William retreated to more neutral ground.
"You've lived in Ithaca?"
"Four years."
"But why?"
It would have been a reasonable question except for the fact that there was generally only one reason why anyone spent exactly four years in Ithaca, and since William was employed by that reason, Elizabeth had expected him to be a little more astute. Maybe we haven't quite overcome our sailor-stereotype yet, Dr. Darcy. Aloud, she elucidated, "Four years of school, William."
The conversation missed another beat. "You went to Cornell? William didn't bother to mask his surprise.
Elizabeth quirked her eyebrows in the affirmative.
"But what did you study?"
"Same as everyone else and their neighbor's dog. Bio."
"For real?"
Really, Elizabeth thought, why is this so shocking? He went there too. "Yes, William, it's a little-known fact that I'm just as overeducated as the students I teach." She couldn't quite keep the sarcasm from her voice, and William noticed it.
"I didn't mean to imply that you're stupid because of your profession, Elizabeth. It's just strange that I've never known that about you."
She sighed. Okay, credit for the attempt, there. Elizabeth recalled that she had made reference to her alma mater once before in their acquaintance, but a sound lashing with a cat-o'-nine-tails seemed preferable to mentioning it. Instead, she met his apology frankly. "It's okay, Will. It's just one of those things I'm a little over sensitive about. I like my brain and I'm protective of it." Then she shifted to a topic with less potential for ugliness. "You know, if you're thirty-four then I would have been a freshman when you were a senior."
"Ahhh, the Innocents."
Elizabeth snorted, "Are you telling me that you took advantage of innocent freshmen, Dr. Darcy?"
William shrugged, "Okay, I confess. I could talk the talk, but I was way to shy to actually do anything."
"Shy." It was a possibility that Elizabeth hadn't seriously considered before.
"Yes. That's a little known fact about me. No one knows it because I developed a little habit of hiding it by making people think I'm disinterested and arrogant. Not the greatest choice, I admit."
His companion was intrigued by this forthright confession. "You're not doing that now, William."
"No. Not since it was brought to my attention in a way that forced me to see how unpleasant it really made me."
Elizabeth could hardly misunderstand his reference. The cat-'o-nine-tails was looking better and better every moment; she even considered "falling" off the bowsprit, but decided that would only leave her looking clumsy, wet, and very likely diseased from the harbor water. "Why are you telling me this, William?" She asked softly.
William sighed. Good question. Masochism, anyone? "Because...I want you to know that I can acknowledge when I'm wrong. And that I don't want to go on being that way." He paused. "Whatever I said then, I have a lot of respect for you, Elizabeth. I hate to disappoint the people I respect."
"At this moment, Will, I find you nothing but impressive."
He smiled genuinely, glad for her words but delighted by her use, for the first time in their acquaintance, of his familiar name. He offered his hand, "Friends, Lizzy?"
"Friends," she shook his hand.
They smiled at each other, then noticed the approach of a figure whose strides unwittingly devoured the dock as if it were a catwalk. The Boss was paying a visit.
Elizabeth watched in silence as William catcalled to the figure on the dock. Helen rolled her eyes, "And the same to you, my dear!"
He grinned, "We were beginning to think you had forgotten us." His eyes widened in mock horror.
"Oh no, I've got plenty of things to inflict on you today. I've got a whole bunch of goodies in the car, so I need some hands to help carry."
"Lizzy's got her hands full with this grommet, so I'll come help. I think Fred's painting, but there'll be someone else who can stop what they're doing."
Elizabeth watched as he stepped gracefully onto the bowsprit and traversed it like a balance beam to the deck, still chatting animatedly with Helen on the dock.
Friends.
Chapter 22
Helen kept the workday mercifully short on this occasion owing to her plan to stay for dinner and brief her crew on the major upcoming event on their calendar. Many tall ships, as William had long since noticed, demonstrated seasonal distribution patterns similar to those of migratory birds. With the end of summer approaching, the Spirit of Derbyshire was preparing for her own seasonal journey southward. The trip was much anticipated by the crew, since as a daysailing vessel they had little opportunity to take her offshore and shake her down. In addition, she would carry no passengers, so they could look forward to something of a busman's holiday. For William the trip would carry extra meaning, for his contract would end just one week later. He did not dread his return to Ithaca per se, but there had been something surreal and serendipitous about this summer that he was loath to leave behind. Actually, it was something quite tangible, and among friends it went by the name of Lizzy. Their conversation that afternoon had given him his first real reason to hope that their relationship could change in a meaningful sort of way. It was an awkward time to be leaving, to say the least.
They ate on deck in the soft evening light, and after packing away her dinner with a speed that revealed the sailor beneath the model exterior, Helen gave a brief explanation of her expectations for the trip. She would leave the operational decisions to Elizabeth, who would continue to serve as master of the Derbyshire, so her recitation was relatively brief and straightforward. Then she stood up and announced her departure. "Sorry to disappoint you all, but I have to run. I've got a date tonight," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Danielle played along, "Oooh ... really? With whom?"
"Oh, today?" Helen replied flippantly, "He's my auto mechanic."
Danielle laughed, "That poor man. Why do you make him slave over those junk piles you seem to collect? You're much better at it."
"Oh no. I get more than enough grease in my life here on the boat with you and your ilk. I don't fix my cars."
While this exchange was going on Elizabeth was looking at William with a frown on her face. He looked back with a crease on his own forehead. She was wondering how he felt about Helen dating her auto mechanic. He was wondering what he had done wrong now.
When Helen left, Elizabeth leaned toward Danielle for a little gossip, "She's dating her auto mechanic?"
Danielle looked at her in surprise. "Helen? Are you serious? Her 'auto mechanic' is her husband. You've never met Tom? I assure you, the car repair is only a secondary function--he's terrible at it!"
"Married? Helen is married?" Elizabeth looked at William in alarm, "But I thought..." she trailed off.
Most of the crew laughed forgivingly at Elizabeth's gaffe, but William, realizing her implication, displayed his most forbidding frown.
The plates were soon cleared, and William caught up to Elizabeth back on deck. "Lizzy," he said in a low tone, "we need to talk."
She did not meet his eye, but shrugged acquiescence and followed him to the bow. He took a deep breath and began. "You thought, or maybe think, that I had something going on with Helen, didn't you?"
Elizabeth nodded miserably.
"But why? Even if you didn't know about Tom, why Helen?"
Elizabeth kicked at the teak deck, feeling childish, "Because of the way you treat her. It's totally different from the way to treat anyone else ... me, for example."
"Exactly. Different from the way I treat you. Lizzy, the reason I can treat Helen that way is because there are no expectations--from either side." His voice took on a new intensity, "You of all people should know where my preferences lie. Not with Helen."
Elizabeth froze. She was ashamed to say that his revelation took her as much by surprise, though in a different way, as it had two years before. But this time, terrified though she still was, the desire to flee was strangely absent.
"Even now?" she asked in wonder and met his eyes for the first time.
"Especially now." His voice was low and forceful, carrying a strength of feeling that his words could not convey.
Despite her own emotional turmoil, Elizabeth felt deeply for him at that moment. She reached out a rough workman's hand and placed it upon his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly at her touch. "Thank you, Will," she said feelingly.
He stood immobilized, but now it was he who would not meet her eyes. "I don't deserve that," he whispered.
She moved her hand to his chin and tilted it up until she found his troubled gaze. "No, Will. I don't deserve to keep my state of grace after what I said."
"But it was true. All of it, Lizzy."
"It was misapplied. You told me something extremely personal. I responded not to you as a person but to you as the representative of a whole legion of people whom I perceive to disapprove of me. That was inexcusable and for it I am sorry."
"In that case, Elizabeth, you are forgiven." He smiled gently and moved to take her into his arms, but barely had her head reached his shoulder when they jerked apart again as if stung. Turning to face aft, they saw that the entire crew was spectating unabashedly and whistling their approval of the intimate little scene.
William cursed stormily and looked her in the eyes. "This conversation is not over, Elizabeth Bennet," he said roughly. He stomped away glaring at the crew, but in his wake Elizabeth could only grin absurdly as she fought and failed to control her roiling emotions and her face that betrayed them so visibly.
Chapter 23
Roger Tory Peterson wrote one of the most authoritative field guides to North American birds. Americans will probably know of Peterson Guides. Whether the name has been exported or not I have no idea.
A fresh breeze abeam answered all the dearest wishes of the Derbyshire's crew. White puffs of cumulus cloud rushed through the sky but never seemed to block the dazzling sun. Foamy whitecaps added an attractive accent to the deep indigo of the temperate waters. The crew was not idle. Without passengers to get underfoot, Elizabeth allowed them the opportunity to sail hard, and they did not disappoint. In the precision and speed with which they worked, William saw something that he remembered from the Pride of Austen, but rarely witnessed on the Derbyshire. It was a crew taking pride in their work and pride in themselves as a team. Among passengers they never performed with such sharpness; to do so required an enthusiasm that, before strangers, smacked of showing off. Together and alone, they could revel in the choreography of their own work amongst only those who shared it.
For William, every joy was bittersweet; the awareness that he would soon be leaving hung ever-present in a corner of his mind. The question of his relationship with Elizabeth was clearly reopened but still unresolved. They had lacked the opportunity and perhaps the courage to finish their conversation of the week before, and he was feeling more than usually dejected at the prospect of his imminent departure. Separating himself from his jovial shipmates, he took up his binoculars and found solace in watching the Shearwaters glide past with their unique rigid grace. He had hardly begun a new round of self-admonition for wasting this gift of a summer when the object of his thoughts broke in on his reverie.
"So you are still the William Darcy I used to know," Elizabeth gestured at the binoculars and smiled. "I was beginning to think you might have...done him in, so to speak." She waggled her eyebrows expressively; he was enchanted but hardly knew how to respond to such a statement.
"I like to think he had some salvageable traits."
Elizabeth chastised herself for putting him in what was clearly an awkward position. She had only meant to be friendly, but she had made him feel that he needed to defend himself, which in light of their history could almost be considered a hostile act. See Rich, this is why I don't have relationships, she thought. I never know when to stop teasing, so no one can ever get close to me. I'm going to be nice to him for at least two consecutive sentences.
"A taste for birding, in my opinion, is not only a salvageable, but a commendable trait," she said carefully. "You teach Ornithology, right?"
"Yes. In fact, I taught one of your LSO alums two years ago." He related to her the story of Kathlyn and her Storm-Petrels.
"I know. She sent me a glowing email about you and your class. You must be a good professor, because she loved it. I mostly remember it being really hard."
Of course she took it, I should have known. For once, this realization brought him not embarrassment but a strange joy. He laughed, "Yep. Brought my average down."
"Oooh, no. Did you get a B?" Elizabeth asked in mock horror with a sparkle in her eyes. It's okay, she reviewed her prod, getting a B is not a character flaw.
William grinned and nodded sheepishly. He wasn't sure what to make of the pensive expression that followed her joke, but he was almost sure he had first caught a flash of self-deprecation in her eyes. I know what that is. She is mocking herself. "And what, pray tell, was your GPA, Captain Bennet? Was your A- in Ornithology a crushing blow?"
Elizabeth was impressed and not a little appalled that he had read her so accurately. "Okay, okay, guilty as charged. But I only got a B+ in Ornithology."
He raised his eyebrows and waited; she had not answered his question.
"Oh fine, then. I got a three nine."
William's eyes widened. That was better than he had expected. He knew by now that she was smart, but a three nine in bio? She must have been remarkably dedicated as well. He had known those people existed, but... He gave a low whistle before the mirth came back into his eyes, "See, I knew it. Underneath all those calluses you're just a big geek."
Elizabeth could not help her burst of laughter. It had been a long day indeed since anyone had called her a "geek," and hearing it from the lips of Dr. Darcy was deliciously absurd.
"Humph. Me, a geek? I know what bird-happy grad students do for fun. You play that dumb game with a field guide where you see how many words of the description it takes for you to guess the species. 'Note combination of yellow spectacles, whitish thr--"
"White-eyed Vireo," he said offhandedly.
"I knew it!"
"Well, it's better than beer pong," William deadpanned.
"Oh, lord, it's a drinking game? That's even worse!"
"Yet I notice you blithely quoting Peterson's from memory."
Elizabeth had noted the phenomenon more than once that summer, though always after the fact; having forgotten to be awkward toward each other, they conversed with easy dexterity. William challenged the generally undisputed superiority of her intelligence; she spurred his increasingly apparent sense of humor to new agility. It was an arrangement that suited them both, each being fond of a challenge. Unfortunately it did not come as easily as each might wish.
William climbed down the ladder into the forepeak, which on Derbyshire served as bosun's locker, with the ease of long practice. This small corner of organized chaos was one of his favorite places on board. He was somehow comforted by the smoky scent of pine tar, the rush and slap of water against the hull and the cool, dark respite from the sun and wind on deck. Squinting into the gloom, he moved by feel more than sight to the corner where leather hides were stacked behind painting tarps. Thus it was that he only noticed the other occupant of the bosun's locker, perched upon those selfsame tarps, when he was almost upon her.
"Lizzy!"
"Hello, Will. I was wondering if you'd step on me."
"I can't see a thing down here. What are you doing?"
"Sorting sandpaper," she replied sheepishly.
William laughed. Elizabeth's annoyance with the small, heavily worn scraps of sandpaper that invariably found their way back into circulation had become almost legendary on the Derbyshire. He hadn't realized, however, that she took it so far as to pick through the box when no one was around. He told her so.
She shrugged, "I know. I'm a lunatic. Just be glad it's this and not the mess in everyone's bunks that I'm concerned about."
William put on his best haughty expression, "My bunk, I'll have you know, is in perfect order."
"Yes, of that I have no doubt, Dr. Darcy," she replied with perfect amiability.
Williams composure cracked a bit and he snorted at her form of address. "Humph. That never works anymore, does it?"
"I'm afraid not, Will. Once you let us common folk in there's no going back." Her eyes sparkled through the darkness in a teasing smile. "Now what can we do for you down here? You're off watch."
"I was going to work on a sheath for my new knife." The deckhands, after ribbing William all summer about the diminutive folding pocketknife he carried, had presented him with a new one, fashioned to the proper shape from a kitchen knife, before they sailed south.
"Oh good," Lizzy nodded. "You know, regardless of the whole macho knife-length thing, it's good to have something you can use with one hand. You like it then?"
"I love it. I can't believe they did such a nice job of shaping it." He held it up, running a finger over its carefully rounded tip.
Elizabeth chuckled, "I helped them grind it, I confess. I was a little afraid you'd end up with a blunt stub otherwise. And there is the whole macho knife-length thing, of course."
William looked up with a quick grin, "Protecting my reputation, Lizzy?" he quipped, then fell to studying his knife with new interest.
She shrugged but quirked her eyebrow, "It's still smaller than mine, you'll note." She patted the blade on her hip.
William laughed aloud at this, then turned serious. "Thank you, Lizzy. It means a lot." The knife suddenly seemed like his most precious possession, far too valuable actually to use. Two years had not changed the fact that he was head over heels for this woman. He had to talk to her again before he left the Derbyshire.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, brushed off his gratitude uncomfortably, "It's the least I could do, Will. You've made this a great summer for me, and we'll all miss you when--"
He saw his opportunity and interrupted her while his courage lasted, "You'll miss me?" The change in his voice was unmistakable and Elizabeth's stomach lurched in response. He was watching her closely and she could not deny the admiration in his dark eyes.
This is it, she thought, right here in the bosun's locker. Heart in her throat, she replied tremulously, "I will."
William drew a shaky breath, "Elizabeth, I told you that the conversation we were having on the foredeck last week wasn't over. Let's finish it. If you still feel the same way about me that you did in Woods Hole you need to say so now, because otherwise I am going to kiss you."
Elizabeth's head spun from the intensity of his eyes and she was frustrated to find that, while she finally knew beyond a doubt what she wanted from this man, her tongue became stubbornly immobile. "Yes..." Please kiss me. "No!" I don't feel the same way. "I mean ... Christ, Lizzy!"
William waited with every ounce of patience he could muster. He would have been amused at her verbal confusion if he hadn't been so much on tenterhooks himself. Still, when she hated me she had no trouble expressing it, so this might be a good sign. What happened next so overwhelmed him that he was only later able to piece it together. Apparently growing frustrated with her own incoherence, she slid off her pile of tarps, grasped his head in her hands and kissed him. Decisively. Just as he had seen her approach everything else in life.
Elizabeth's confidence returned in a rush as soon as she managed to get her point across. When she felt his response and his arms close around her, she broke off and smiled, "Sorry, I got a little tongue-tied."
Tongue? William thought dizzily. He focused on her voice, "Did you think I was complaining?"
She laughed, mischief evident in her voice, "No, I though you could help me untie it."
William rolled his eyes and leaned to her ear. "Shh," he said firmly then reclaimed her mouth. She drove one hand into his hair and allowed the other to travel across his back; his hands explored her in delighted response. They continued in this manner, touching and tasting each other with a curious mixture of leisure and haste until Elizabeth, recalling herself somewhat, kissed his earlobe and whispered, "Will, we're making out in the bosun's locker."
William pulled back only enough to look at her. "I know," his triumphant smile raised Elizabeth's already-elevated pulse rate, "Last year Helen caught two deckhands down here with no clothes on." He wagged his eyebrows with an expression that left her in no doubt that he though it an excellent idea.
Elizabeth laughed and blushed, torn between amusement and embarrassment. "Can you imagine?" she asked in horror.
"Oh, I'm imagining, I assure you," William glanced around the small space.
Elizabeth gave a rare giggle. You walked right into that one, Lizzy!
William continued a bit defensively, "You can't really blame them, though. This is the only damn place on the boat where you can get any privacy."
"Maybe for them. They were deckhands." Elizabeth, as master, inhabited the only private cabin on board.
William's eyebrows reflected his surprise. "That sounded remarkably like an invitation, Cap."
"That was a reference to a probable future invitation."
"Well that's nice to know," he laughed. "It's a relief to be on the good side, for once, of your capacity to be extremely candid. In the mean time, the bosun's locker should do nicely."
"We could shut the hatch," she said cheekily.
William snorted, "What would you think if you opened the hatch and found two people already in here? I think the best plan is for you to go back to innocently sorting sandpaper as soon as someone's feet appear."
"I think I'd rather be caught with you than with the sandpaper."
As it happened, their laughter at this remark floated up the open hatch to the ears of Frederick, the bow watch, and Danielle, at work on the windlass. They shared a glance and a knowing grin, and by the time all three watches had turned over all hands were reasonably well acquainted with every subtle change in the interaction between the two officers that had been observed that day. As is often the case, happiness from the command overflowed into general mirth. The excellent weather that marked the Derbyshire's auspicious trip south was matched by the excellent morale of a crew glad as only sailors are of an empty horizon and many a laughing fellow rover to share it.