Chapter Eighteen #2
Grace searched the stern above the rudder for a name but saw no lettering.
She shrugged. Finding the name there was possible, but she’d learned in her college days that most sailing ships from the early nineteenth century had the ship’s name and documentation numbers carved into a beam in the main cabin or hold.
Not every captain thought it necessary to spell out the ship’s name in paint on the exterior of the vessel.
Indeed, for pirates, it seemed expedient to make their ship harder to identify, thus leaving the name off.
She poled out of the current, passing below the rudder as she approached land.
Stepping ashore, she hauled her raft onto the ground, leaving it and her pole while she marched along the length of the ship.
About midway, she found a spot where the entire ship had been broken in two.
The lumber connecting the two ends was splintered, almost shredded.
The forward section listed toward the shore, and while the beam of the vessel was wide, on its side and partially buried in boggy mud, the fore could not be seen from behind the aft—the direction from which she’d approached.
A spit of sandy soil had collected between the two sections. Rather than eroding over time, as might be expected, the mud had accumulated until it formed a ramp leading into the exposed midship hold.
Prodding the dirt with a handy tree branch, Grace discovered it was solid enough to walk on. Up she went into the darkness of the hold. She paused to take her electric lantern from her pack then switch it on. Turning a slow circle, she surveyed the ship’s interior. It was empty—mostly.
What did I expect? A treasure hoard? The skeletons of a long dead crew?
She reached out to a nearby bulkhead to find it riddled with wormholes and spongy with damp rot.
Grace chuckled softly at her own nonsense, but stopped when the lantern light passed over an object. She directed the beam back toward the object and found a narrow set of stairs. A ladder is what the sailors would have called it.
She hurried to climb the ladder, eager to learn what could be seen from the upper deck.
The ascent took much longer than she’d anticipated, and as she walked, the hull around her and the wood beneath her feet wobbled.
Grace stopped, waiting for the unstable structure to settle, but before her eyes, the ladder treads and the hull planking changed color and density.
The effect of the changes—stairs and hull—was dizzying. Her head swam, but she continued to watch.
What’s happening?
The wood remained dark, but did not have the aged patina that wood long exposed to the elements acquired.
Instead, the stair treads appeared waxed and well cared for.
The wormholes and signs of damp rot vanished.
The caulking between the boards morphed from chipped and broken to seamless lines covered in pitchy tar.
I am not imagining this. I found this ship. I walked onto it. I touched the nearly rotted hull.
“Are you coming topside or not?” Luc asked.
The spinning stopped, and Grace reclaimed her balance. “Luc? What are you doing here? I never said your name.”
He smiled down. “You did not have to. You came to me.”
“So, this is the Only Love?”
“Aye.” He extended his hand. “Welcome aboard.”
She climbed the last steps of the ladder and took his hand. It felt warm and solid. She lifted their clasped hands to examine his. Opaque, tanned, hair sprinkled, calloused fingers. When she looked out at the deck it was level and all in one piece fore to aft.
“How…?”
“The moon is still waxing and won’t be full for nearly two weeks.”
“Yes, so how are you corporeal, and this ship was broken in two when I arrived. Now it isn’t.”
Luc walked with her to the port rail.
“It’s the Only Love, at least in part. This ship and I are linked through that curse.
I had to learn how to manage my curse while aboard ship, and it’s a little different than when I’m on land, or even on board another ship.
“I remember that woman said you were ‘… as inconstant as the moon. So shall you and your ship be until…’”
“Until I earn the heart of a woman who has none.” His smile had a sad, tortured edge.
“I understand being as inconstant as the moon, but that last bit. How can a woman have no heart?”
“I have yet to understand that part of the curse.”
“How long has it been?”
“Ninety-eight years.”
Grace gasped. “Yet, you still don’t know?”
“Well, you have to admit…” he turned leaning back, his elbows and forearms resting on the broad rail. “A woman who has no heart is a bit of a puzzle. Then there’s the other half. She must be willing to take my heart in its place.”
“True, that is implied. Although, technically all you have to do is earn hers. She doesn’t have to accept yours.”
“A fine line, that I am certain will make little difference should the day ever come when I meet such a woman,” Luc said wryly.
“Heartless people are cruel,” Grace frowned out at the bayou. “Part of me hopes you never meet a heartless woman, let alone love her enough to give your heart into her keeping.”
“May I take it from this conversation that you have come to terms with any disbelief you might have about me and my curse?”
“I think so.” She slowly nodded.
“What changed your mind?” His expression held an urgency that she did not understand. “I’m not certain I want to talk about it.”
“As you wish. Would you like a tour of the ship?” His handsome countenance brightened. He smiled again and gave a half-bow, then offered his arm, like a courtier.
“Yes, thank you.”
***
Luc saw the thing he treasured above all else, Grainne’s smile on the face of a woman from another century. Had God put that smile on Grace Thibodaux’s face to torture him with reminders of a love he could never have?
The worst of him wanted to strangle Grace, so he never need see that smile again.
Except, he’d been looking at that smile in his dreams and memories for close to a century. Grace Thibodaux or no, Grainne’s smile would live in him until his last breath. So, eliminating Grace was pointless.
He shook his head. Unlike himself, she wouldn’t live forever. He might as well enjoy the smile and Grace while he could.
Luc took her hand again. “We’ll start at the bow, and make our way back and down.”
Her expression was open and genuinely interested. Then again, she was an admirer of history and antiquities, so it shouldn’t surprise him. However, few women enjoyed nautical history and artefacts. Grace’s opinion remained unrevealed for now.
“This style of ship,” he said as they walked. “Is designed for speed and trade. Since a deep draught tends to slow a ship, they were rarely built with more than a single deck. That maximizes cargo space in the hold but limits the number of guns and carronades to be carried.”
Grace asked questions about the carronades, long guns, stacks of cannon balls, grape shot and powder.
Her knowledge of shipboard vocabulary impressed. Perhaps she would like sailing. Luc loved it. He’d never imagined he could do the thing he loved with a woman he loved at his side. Of course, he didn’t love Grace.
“All were necessary, for any ship plying the waters when I was sailing.”
They traversed the length of the deck along the port side, then turned back toward the bow via the starboard.
Luc pointed out neatly stowed sails, line, explained the use of winches, capstans and hawse pipes.
They paused near the hatch to the hold.
“I see you have no poop deck. Where are the captain’s quarters?” she asked. A line appeared between her brows.
“For my first few years as captain, I slept in a hammock in the hold along with my crew.”
“Modest of you,” she said.
“Not so modest as greedy,” Luc confessed. “Any space not used for guns or cargo was wasted space. I wanted to carry as much cargo as possible.” He extended a hand toward her. “May I?”
Grace looked down at where he’d pointed to her electric lantern. “Oh, of course.” She handed it over.
He spent a moment examining it. “Ingenious. What makes the light?”
“Electric battery,” she informed off-handedly.
“So, this is what came of the work done by Volta, Franklin and others. I read about their experiments. Nothing practical had resulted from them before I was cursed. Come, let us go below. I’ve more to show.”
“You read about science and scientists? You do not seem to me a man who cares much about such things.”
“You don’t know everything about me,” he said, wondering if she wanted to know more. He opened the hatchway and entered before her. As they descended, the slap of the bayou against the hull faded to a low throb. The scent of aged oak mixed with the stink of tar and pitch.
At the bottom, he ducked and turned to guide her. Taking her hand in his again, he drew her into the dimly lit space. “Watch your head.” He lifted the lantern to show her the cross beams that supported the upper deck.
“So that’s why you’re crouched over. This space isn’t much taller than I am. Even stranger, when I entered the ship, the hull was split in two. Now it’s whole. How is that possible?” Awe tinted her voice.
“I can’t say for certain, but the curse included me and the Only Love. It makes sense to me, in terms of the curse, for my ship to be, like myself, as ‘inconstant’as the moon.” He led Grace to the forward side of the ladder. “Most cargo is stowed in the bow along with the ship’s stores.”
“Your hold is empty?” she queried.
“After I was cursed, I told my navigator to take the cargo for himself,” Luc explained.
“I don’t suppose much cargo would survive nine decades of storage.”
“Precisely,” he confirmed. “What of the parts not used for cargo?”
“The rest of the area is used for ballast. The amount of ballast required depends on the weight of the cargo and stores.” He warmed to his topic encouraged by her questions and her interest.