Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
I t was an understatement to say Kent was sore.
Laying in his bed wasn’t so bad, but sitting down caused him to ache if he didn’t position himself carefully. Hopefully none of the other lads he were to meet tonight would notice anything off. Nerves piled in his gut as the time came, riding into Portsmouth on Biscuit. As much as he didn’t want to sit on her, it was either that, arrange for a post-chaise, or walk. Walking to and from Portsmouth was well out of the question with how terribly long the trek would be, and he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, and a post-chaise was anything but. Biscuit it was.
He arrived at the tavern he last saw Charles Davies at, passport in his pocket, hoping he wasn’t too late for their meeting. Thankfully he wasn’t, as Davies himself caught sight of Kent and ushered him to a side room. Kent figured the captain must’ve rented this room out specifically for this gathering, as a means to have privacy. It held a large wooden table in the middle with a dozen men sitting all around it, chattering away, clinking the drinks in their hands. Surely there must’ve been more men not present who’d also join them on the ship, but Kent supposed it was more a meeting for the main crew than everyone else. A handsome man with long blond hair and a large, feathered, black tricorn hat stood instead of sitting at the far end, talking to the other men with an air of authority. He seemed about the same age as Davies, possibly mid-thirties. Is he the captain? It was hard to make out any words since everyone seemed to be speaking at once. Sunlight from small circular windows not unlike a ship’s cast its way in, showcasing nautical decorations littered on the walls and shelving. A prelude for what was to come.
Davies shut the door to the room, walking up behind Kent and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Saved a spot near the captain for you, Fareham.”
“Ah, thank you.” Kent nodded, noticing two empty chairs: one for himself, and likely the second for Davies. He walked toward it around the table, along the windowed wall, Davies right behind him.
The blond man perked up, catching sight of them approaching. “Oh, now who could this be? Davies, is this the new surgeon?”
“Yes, indeed, Captain,” Davies cheered.
“Brilliant. All right lads, all right!”
The captain waved his hands to calm down the ruckus, catching everyone’s attention. Voices turned to whispers, then to almost nothing as Kent stood behind his chair, shifting from foot to foot. Davies, like he’d guessed, stood by the one in-between him and the captain. The men nodded their heads not quite in unison as Kent did the same back, tipping his tricorn hat to them.
“As you all may know by now, our surgeon, Walter Harris, has mysteriously vanished. For almost three days, no one has seen or heard from him since,” the captain said. That got some people to whisper betwixt each other. “But fear not! Whether Harris comes or goes does not matter, as we have found a volunteer to travel with us in his absence. A stroke of luck, such incredible timing that we encountered this man here, willing to step away from his life on land and help us to deliver this necessary shipment to Fall River.”
The men let out a small cheer, some even clapping. Kent thought he even heard a comment from one of them amongst the noise— good riddance, I never liked Harris anyway. It was the same sort of sentiment he remembered Davies held when he’d first spoken to him, and it also was reflected in the strategic words the captain used. Curiosity buzzed in his mind— they must’ve only dealt with Harris because they had no one better. A persona non grata. To which, Kent thought his own mind was being rather rude, and he held back a snicker. Regardless, he was grateful to be here, however it happened to line up.
“And so, welcome,” the captain continued, addressing Kent directly. “I am Nathaniel Brooks, Captain of The Sterling Mer. I am glad to have you here. What is your name?”
Kent gulped, brushing the sweat from his hands on the front of his frock coat. “Kent Wilson, Viscount Fareham, sir.”
“Kent? As in Kent County?” he heard one of the men further back mutter.
“Yes, Kent,” he replied. He was used to people finding his Christian name strange, at this point in his life. “My mother had me whilst traveling in Kent, and gave me the name because of it.”
“Besides,” Davies interjected, “he is of nobility! Lord Fareham, as you may refer to him.”
“Just Fareham is fine,” said Kent. “If we are to be on this ship together as brethren, I don’t wish for you all to consider me more important just because of my status.”
Captain Brooks smiled at him then. “I like that sentiment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Please—Captain Brooks, or even just Brooks is fine,” he said warmly.
Kent flushed, then nodded. “All right.”
“Viscount Fareham? Wilson, I know that name. Aren’t you the first son of the Earl?” another crewman chimed in. “What are you doing leaving England in the first place?”
Kent stiffened his face, holding back a sneer. These men meant no harm, but were simply curious, he reminded himself. No one knew of him or his situation yet. “If I wish to leave, I’m within my own right. My father still holds the title of Earl. And I have agency over my own life. Just because of my nobility doesn’t mean I cannot live how I see fit. I will inherit the title when it is time, and that is not now. Now, I wish to journey out to sea.”
Brooks clapped after Kent’s words, giving him another genuine smile. Soon after, more men clapped; a gentle round of applause. It warmed Kent’s heart. “Excellent, Fareham,” said Brooks. “Here, let’s sit.”
Kent did as he was asked, wincing a bit as his bottom hit the wooden chair, and Davies and the captain followed. Brooks then asked each man to introduce himself, and they went in a circle around the table, saying their names and their job on the ship. While there were only twelve other men here, the entire crew consisted of well over a hundred. Davies and a few of the other men were to relay anything important from this meeting to the rest of them—deckhands, riggers, and swabs.
“Have you been following along, Fareham?” asked Brooks.
“Yes.” There was something important that he needed to say now, before anything more was solidified about his position. “Though, if I may, I have… an important request. If you do not accept, unfortunately I do not think I will join your crew.”
“What? You made no mention of this before, when we talked!” exclaimed Davies.
“Well, with the nature of everything, it all happened so fast.” He let out a small chuckle, hopefully to ease any growing disconcerting mood. “But, as the sailors you are, I assume there shall be no problem for what I ask for.”
“And that will be…?” Brooks tilted his head.
Kent clenched his fists on his lap under the table, gulping down the lump forming in his throat.
“There is a merman I wish to bring along with us. If he cannot come on board the ship, I will not set foot on it either.”
Gasps were heard all throughout, and more gossip sprang from everyone’s lips. “A merman? Are you mad?” one said. “Merfolk don’t even exist!”
“Yes they do,” another man, Edward Walker, replied. “You’re new here, so you wouldn’t remember the mermaid Brooks invited before.”
“A mermaid? Seriously, Captain? I don’t believe it—these men tell lies.”
Brooks nodded, and curiously grew a tad redder in the face. “It is no lie. Many of you remember Lyla. She was a welcomed guest on The Sterling Mer. Our ship is even named after merfolk. Did you think it was all for show?”
“Well, there are also ships named after sea monsters, was I to think they’re real too—? Actually, don’t answer that. I’d rather stay ignorant,” the crewman said. That got a chuckle from the surrounding men.
“But Fareham,” Brooks addressed Kent again. “To answer your request—yes, by all means, bring your merman on board. He is welcome on our ship.”
“You mean it, Captain?” He felt a smile grow on his face.
“I absolutely mean it. Having a merman on board means we’ve been blessed with a navigator. Someone who knows the ocean and can steer us away from dangerous waters. And—if you are as friendly as I take you two for, if you’re asking him to come along—he shall value the crew and trust us as we shall trust him.”
Kent kept grinning with Brooks’s words. It was similar to what Mo had said to Katherine, how no matter what, Mo would do everything in his power to keep Kent safe.
“Are you sure he’s not a siren, though?” a redheaded man, Thomas Allen, asked. “If this merman were to have the Song, it could put all of us at risk, especially out at sea with him, if we brought him on board.” Two men nearby him nodded, considering what he’d said.
Kent waved his hands in front of himself. “He is not! I can assure you. Sirens do not befriend humans; they hate our kind. He’s just a regular merman. Besides, I’ve heard him sing, myself. And there was no magic in his voice. I would’ve felt something strange, given what is known of what the Song can do to you.”
“That is true,” Brooks backed him up. “The Siren’s Song is one where if heard, a human loses control over their mind and body. I’m certain if Fareham had heard it, he would know instantly.”
“Precisely,” said Kent.
Allen bowed his head toward the table. “I am sorry. You are correct, I’ve not ever heard of a siren befriending a human.”
“You are forgiven.” Kent smiled. “The merman is nothing to fear. His name is Mo, by the way. I sincerely mean it when I say he’s a dear friend of mine.”
“A dear friend , huh?” Davies chuckled, elbowing Kent’s side.
Kent’s cheeks burned with such intensity, he almost couldn’t speak. Could he trust telling them the truth of their relationship? He supposed he’d need to, for Mo and him to truly be together. But the words were caught in his throat, clogging it from coming forward. “Yes, we’re friends…”
“That’s enough, that’s enough.” Brooks waved his hand at Davies. “But yes, Fareham, by all means. Bring your merman along, I’d love to meet him.”
Kent grinned—his heart fluttering in his chest. “Absolutely.”
The meeting continued with Brooks detailing more plans of when the ship was to leave the harbor, how long their journey would be, and what was to await them when they arrived in Fall River. They were to deliver important medicine it needed: Bateman’s Pectoral Drops, Daffy’s Elixir, orviétan, camphor, laudanum, and various other tinctures. There was other cargo as well, such as spices, sugars, and fabrics. But the medicine was the most important, issuing the captain’s urgency to set sail soon.
Kent felt better and more refreshed when he woke the next morning, soreness aside. He figured perhaps he’d just have to get used to it if Mo and himself were to have that sort of fun more often. He was planning to visit him again tonight at dusk, so… yes, probably he would ache all over again. Even then, Kent welcomed it. Desired it. Just thinking about it again made his heart pound.
But before it got too late in the day, he needed to tell his father, along with the rest of the staff at Fareham House that he was planning to leave. His valet, Turner, came up to his room to notify him for breakfast, and Kent stopped him before he left. He let him know of his departure on The Sterling Mer soon, and Turner was at first completely stunned. Suddenly, his employer was to be gone for three months. But ultimately, he understood. Kent said he could take it as a vacation, giving him a generous advance, and promised that if Turner wished to find work elsewhere, he’d write him an excellent referral letter and that Katherine would help him as well.
He asked Turner to call on the earl to the drawing room, meeting him there.
“Kent! Son!” said Herbert with a smile, sitting in one of the armchairs already. Just like always, he was dressed exquisite, in that ridiculously long curly periwig. “What is this all about? I do hope it’s good news.”
Kent sat down in the adjacent chair, smoothing out the folds on his breeches. “Well, it—it’s good news for me. It’s up to you how to interpret it for yourself.”
Herbert raised a curious brow. “Now what could you possibly mean by that?”
Oh, perhaps I should’ve asked Kathy to be here with me. How do I even say this?
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat—to no avail. The pressure still lingered.
“I’ve found work.”
“Work?” Herbert repeated. “Where could you have possibly found any work?”
“On a ship. I’m to set sail to Massachusetts as surgeon of the crew in two days.”
“ What ?!”
The earl slammed his cup on its saucer, nearly shattering it, causing the tea to spill over the edge.
“You cannot just leave to Massachusetts. What are you even thinking?”
“I can leave, and I will.” Kent kept his chin up. “I shan’t be gone forever, though. Please, calm down. The ship will be returning to Portsmouth after the delivery in about three month’s time.”
Herbert scoffed, turning his head away, rubbing a finger underneath his nose. “So you figured you should sow your wild oats while you still have your youth, eh?”
“What, no, that’s not what this is about?—”
“You’re not married yet, so you supposed you could go a-jaunting without a care of anything else?—”
“Father, please!” Kent raised his voice. “What this is about, and why I didn’t tell you until now is—I want to make decisions for myself. If I wish to go out to sea for a time, I will. It’s none of your business, other than letting you know I won’t be around for a while. And if I decide to go out again, why should it matter?”
Herbert grunted, glancing at Kent, then tearing it away again. “Because—what if something were to happen—what if you were needed here?” Kent could tell his father was hesitating to say it plainly, lest he curse himself for it to come true: what if I were to die, and you needed to inherit? “Further still, out to sea? Massachusetts ? That’s on the other side of the world! What if something terrible happens to you? There are so many dangers going out on such a journey that you wouldn’t even fathom.”
At least Herbert gave notions that seemed like genuine concern for Kent’s safety. That he still cared about his son as his son, and not simply the heir. “Everything will be fine, Father. You’re in good health, are you not? I’ll be sailing with an experienced crew, and a well-traveled captain. They have gone on this journey many a time, so you shall have nothing to worry.”
I’ll also be safe because of Mo’s protection, too, but I can’t tell him that.
Herbert sighed, picking up his cup again—thankfully not broken—taking another sip. Perhaps to calm himself down. “Three months, and then you’ll be back?”
“Yes, that is the plan, give or take.”
“Forgive me for asking, but what of Miss Jaggard? I’d already invited her family over again for next week. I was under the impression you were enjoying her company.”
Kent shook his head. “I do enjoy her, yes, but merely as a friend. I don’t wish to seek marriage with her. And… to be quite honest… I…” The rest of his sentence was caught in his throat.
“I know, I know, you’re not interested in marriage at the moment. You’ve told me before,” said Herbert, visibly gritting his teeth. “I suppose going out to sea is really proving that, huh?”
Tension was lifted from Kent’s shoulders, making them slump. Perhaps he really was getting through to his father. “Yes. But as I have been thinking about it further, I…” —he gulped, attempting to gain confidence— “I don’t know if I want to wed at all .”
Herbert nearly spurt out his tea—his eyes bulging wide open. “You can’t be serious!”
“But I am!”
“You’re still so young! What happens when you’re older and you have no heir of your own? No children at all, for that matter? No supportive wife? What happens when you’re forty—fifty years old and you regret your decisions you made in your youth where you could have changed that outcome?”
The lump poked thorns in his throat again, making it hard to speak. He understood where his father was coming from—of course he did. All of this stemmed back to the conflict they kept circling around: ensuring the prosperity of the Wilson family. But not just that, Kent could hear the worry in Herbert’s tone. He truly did care for him, but he also thought he knew what was best for Kent’s happiness. That wasn’t the case. While Herbert was likely acting in good faith, Kent finally found something— someone who made him happy, and he would not be swayed to another ideal otherwise.
“As of this moment, that is my decision, Father. I am my own man, and I will live my life as I wish. I don’t wish to keep reiterating that point.”
Herbert’s mouth closed tight in a flat line. He shook his head, and let out a deep, long sigh through his nose. Sweat dripped down his face, tinged slightly red. “There really is no changing your mind, is there? After everything that’s already happened.”
Kent couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to gather my belongings for the trip ahead.” He stood, and put his hand flat on his chest. “Thank you, Father, for understanding.”
Herbert let out a muffled chuckle. “I suppose you’re welcome, Kent. Please, stay safe out there. Come back in one piece.”
Kent returned the small laughter. “I promise, I will.”