saw Miss Becky twice more. The following week, she came by with a basket of food, and we shared our first meal together in the shadows of the ships. For our final outing, I arranged shore time, and we walked the shops of the waterfront. With full knowledge that I would depart within the week, we enjoyed our time together, filling it with laughter and conversation. In one of the shops, Becky found a necklace with a small gold cross that she admired. Taking out the Continental Dollar I had received from Captain Gray, I bought it for her. She seemed overwhelmed by my gift, and allowed me to help her put it on. Then she turned and gave me a hug, whispering, “I shall cherish your gift, and will be wearing it when you return.”
It was an afternoon that I would relish forever.
The next day, Captain Kendrick called the ships’ crews to a meeting aboard the Columbia — the first and only time that all fifty-three sailors would assemble. The Commodore had been in the Continental Navy as a privateer and had distinguished himself many times. After the war, he had returned to whaling and coastal shipping. At forty-eight years old, he had experience commanding sailors and the sea. On paper, he had all of the right qualifications, and the assembled crew showed him great respect.
On the quarterdeck, the men gathered round him as, with Captain Gray at his side, he addressed the crew: “We shall sail with the tide on Saturday morning for Nantasket Roads. There, we will load fresh meat, produce, water, and livestock.” As he talked, he twitched his nose. “Nantasket will be the last place to say farewell to family and friends. We sail the following morning to begin our expedition, taking leave of American soil.” Removing his hat, he wiped his brow with a handkerchief and continued. “At four bells on Friday, the owners will host a farewell party on these decks. Your families and sweethearts are invited. But hear this – there will be ladies and gentleman aboard this ship, so I expect to see my crew dressed in clean denims and shirts. There will be no over-imbibing or profanities. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” was our loud response.
Tucking his head, he turned and mumbled, “Very well. Dismissed.”
My first impression of the Commodore was one of caution. He seemed like a strange little man with a strange manner. I could only hope his sea skills would prove to be better than his oratory.
On Friday, the whole crew set to work, polishing both the ships and themselves. Although the days had been warm, autumn was in the air. The crew was ready to depart, but only after the gleeful celebration.
That afternoon, our ship’s cook, a seaman named Gayle, was sent to the Columbia to help with the preparations, while most of the other crew went ashore. Earlier, I had brought aboard all of my personal belongings, and I was trying to stow them in my small, dingy cubbyhole when Sandy shouted down the hatch, “Joe, you have visitors.”
Rushing up the ladder, I found my father and Fredric waiting on the quarterdeck.
Pleasantly surprised – and pleased to see that my father appeared sober – I said, “You’re early. But I’m glad you came.”
My father smiled – something he rarely did – and answered, “Closed up the shop at three so we could see your ship. Will you give us a tour?”
My brother added, “Please, Joseph?”
Grinning at their enthusiasm, I agreed. We slowly walked the Orphan, with me spouting information as if I were an old salt. Below deck, I even introduced them to Captain Gray, who was in his compartment. He was cordial and shook their hands.
Once we were back on deck, Father and I strolled to the stern while Fredric wandered off towards the bow.
“I like your captain, Joe. I hope you’ll heed his orders and do a good job.”
Just then, the sound of fiddle music rolled over the transom from the Columbia.
“Well, I guess I had better get properly dressed,” I said to him. “It sounds like the soiree is getting underway.”
With a serious expression, my father answered, “Before you do, I have something for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded, wax-sealed envelope and handed it to me. On it, I saw the delicate handwriting of my mother. She had written: For my son, Joseph Blackwell: To be opened upon the death of my husband, Samuel Blackwell.
“Your mother gave this to me on her deathbed, and I promised to take care of it.”
The look on his face was so serious that it scared me.
“But, Father, you’re still alive.”
“Aye… but three years is a long time. Maybe I won’t be here when you come home. Or maybe you won’t come back. Keep it in your pouch. You can give it back to me if – or when – I see you next.” With music swirling in our ears, he extended his hand and concluded, “Do we have an agreement, Son?”
Taking his hand, I shook it, and he embraced me, with tears in his eyes.
As we parted, he whispered, “We live by accident or we live by purpose. Dig deep, to find your way.”
We had an agreement; I would cherish his words and Mother’s mysterious letter.
After I had changed into my finest togs, my family and I walked over to the Columbia to join the party. We climbed the gangway and found a crowd of well over one hundred guests on deck.
Slipping through the people, I led my father and brother to the food tables, where the owners had provided meats, fruits, cheese, and breads, along with wine and ale. As my brother loaded up a food plate, my father took a tankard of wine.
Noticing that I was watching, he grinned and softly said, “There will be no problems tonight, Son.”
I nodded my approval as Fredric join us.
Between bites of fruit and cheese, he asked, “Joseph, why don’t you play your flute with the fiddler?”
Turning, I watched the musician as he strolled from group to group, with lively music spilling from his instrument. It was tempting, but I was too shy to play for this many strangers.
“No, I don’t think I’m good enough.”
Just then, Captain Gray approached us and pulled me aside. With a grin on his face, he whispered in my ear, “Miss Becky is aboard the sloop and would like to speak with you.” Then, drawing back, he winked with his good eye.
Clearly, he knew our secret. She must have told him. Turning to my family, I made an excuse and rushed back to the Orphan.
When I reached the deserted deck, I found her waiting at the bowsprit.
As I approached, I asked, “Is everything alright?”
“Yes. I wanted to talk to you one last time… but not in front of all those people.”
“The Captain knows our secret.”
“I suppose he does. But who would he tell?”
Undoing her bonnet, she shook her head and let her long, blonde hair fall to her shoulders. She wore a russet dress that accented her figure, and my necklace encircled her soft throat. In the
