Rough Passage to London(72)

“What are you suggesting?” another woman asked. “A boxing match or shooting competition?”

“Perhaps Miss Robinson’s suitors should be made to rescue her.”

Morgan stopped and pretended to monitor the work of the men aloft.

“Who do you think she should choose?” another woman questioned.

“Why, the Frenchman, of course. He has a title, and besides, did you see the way he kisses her hand every night before dinner? He’s like a prince.”

“I think I would choose Sir Charles. He may be older and a little round around the edges, but he would be a safe choice. My friends in London say he has plenty of money.”

All of this romantic drama was also playing out in the main saloon of the Philadelphia. There was no doubt this was an elegant setting for romance with soft carpets and comfortable mahogany sofas and cushions. But it was the piano that made Eliza’s courtship memorable. She was an accomplished pianist and often showed off her skills after dinner. There were two violinists among the passengers who would accompany her in a series of Mozart piano concertos and Bach sonatas. Morgan remembered how her three suitors applauded the loudest when the trio played from Haydn’s Lo speziale. The evenings usually ended with much singing around the piano and each of Eliza’s three suitors trying to outdo the other with their voices.

When they neared the outer tributaries of the Gulf Stream, the weather was unusually sultry. Captain Morgan ordered Lowery to bring around champagne to all the staterooms with a note saying the journey was almost over and that he predicted fair winds to New York.

One evening after dinner when Morgan was alone by the stern rail, Eliza approached him. She was dressed in a white empire-waisted dress with a gold faux buckle under her bosom. A gauzy black-laced shawl covering her shoulders fluttered in the breeze.

“May I have a word, Captain,” she whispered demurely. His voice was locked in momentary paralysis and his skin began to tingle at the sight of her. She had smiled at him one time earlier that day, but then had turned away quickly when her mother approached. He wondered if he had misinterpreted that gesture.

“Well, of course, Miss Robinson,” he stammered. “Pray tell, what can I do for you at this late hour?”

He wasn’t sure what her intentions were. He knew he should be pleased she was there standing next to him. But he was worried someone might see the two of them together and get the wrong impression. He would rather have been confronted by a black bear than Mrs. Robinson.

“Could we go for a stroll on deck, Captain?”

Morgan nodded. “Of course, it’s a fine night with a near full moon.”

The sight of the red moon hanging on the horizon made Morgan feel as if he were dreaming. The wind was light and the moonlight, with its strange color, lit up the lines of foam caused by the ship moving through the water. The packet was leaning to leeward, riding the gentle swells as if she were dancing to one of the Mozart sonatas Eliza liked to play. They both discussed the voyage. Eliza spoke of how much she had enjoyed being on the ship. Then there was an awkward silence. She broke the silence by suddenly talking about the dramatic sighting of the whales and the dolphins, and they joked about her clambering up the ratlines. She apologized for her impetuous behavior. Then more silence until she blurted out a question.

“Do you always smile when you speak, Captain?”

Morgan was slightly taken aback at first, but realized this was her manner, direct and straightforward.

“No, only to the cabin passengers,” he said with a playful smile.

“Is your pleasant demeanor just an act for all of your passengers then?” she asked, her eyes sparking flirtatiously. “Am I to believe your smile is just a mask? Are you really a mean sea ogre in disguise?”

Morgan laughed.

“Most assuredly, Miss Robinson. Haven’t you noticed my growl when I speak to the sailors?”

“Well, I was impressed with the way you handled those mutineers, Captain,” she said. She was now looking at him earnestly. Then smiling, she spoke in a more seductive tone, “I certainly saw some of the growling there. I was really quite impressed, Captain.”

Morgan didn’t say anything. His feelings were in a state of confusion. He wondered what he was doing. He felt her eyes fix upon him as they continued to walk around the deck.

“Do you believe in fate, Captain?” she asked with a coaxing intonation. She stopped by the mainmast shrouds, turning away from him as she looked out at the dark seascape with the moonlight dancing on the surface.

“I suppose I do, Miss Robinson. Although I suppose we all make our own luck to a certain extent.”