“Allow me to state my reason for seeking you out,” he said. “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of sponsoring my ship.”
Lorena was caught off guard, convinced she had not heard correctly. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but are you asking me to christen the Yankee Heart?”
He nodded. “What say you? Will you stand on her bowsprit to dash the bottle before these spectators and shout out a blessing for all to hear? I realize it’s a lot to ask, and there’s a bit of an unstable foothold standing on that spar while the stern plunges into the river, but those nearby will steady you, and I should be honored to have you accept.”
Usually the privilege of dashing the bottle went to one of the master craftsmen responsible for that vessel’s construction. But the captain wasn’t asking George or master carpenter Edward Hicks to christen his ship; he was asking her.
In a small seaside town like Duxboro, young boys grew into men who dreamed of one day being chosen for the occasion, and here Captain Talvis wanted her.
Why would he make such an unlikely choice? What lurked in the heart of this rugged seafarer, a man of passionate emotion and concealed melancholy, who’d been hailed as a “master marauder,” that he should desire to befriend a small orphan and flatter a humble girl?
Not long ago his presence had been disturbing and unwanted. Today, a bit of unexpected attention from the man and her insides were all aflutter.
He grinned, encouraging her to accept the challenge.
“I have no fear of balancing on the bowsprit, sir.”
“Then your answer is . . . yes, Miss Huntley? I need you to decide quickly, please. Your father has nearly finished his speech. See there. I believe he searches for my whereabouts among the spectators.”
To refuse would be to insult both the captain and her father. “Yes, Captain. My answer is yes. I will gladly sponsor your ship.”
She could see her answer pleased him. His eyes shone with merriment.
“Thank you, Miss Huntley.” He turned and glanced about, anxious that he should join her father. “I’ll signal you when the moment arrives. And I’ve not forgotten I owe you an apology. I’d prefer we speak privately, however.”
Again, Lorena thought of how she’d intended to apologize to him for Drew’s attack, yet it was the captain who felt the need to beg her pardon. She commended him for it and nodded quietly in agreement. If they must speak on the matter, she’d rather it be in private also. “I hope you understand, Drew is not a bad child. He was merely doing what he believed necessary to protect me.”
“Well, I can hardly fault him for that, can I? He is a brave lad, and I should like nothing more than the chance to get better acquainted. I say, let us forgive the past and start fresh. Perhaps we might all grow to become . . . friends.” His eyes held hers only a moment longer before he backed away and turned, hastening through the crowd.
Lorena had to chase after him so that he might hear her. “After the ceremony, meet me in the carpentry shop.”
“I shall be there, Miss Huntley.”
Lorena craned her neck, following him with her gaze as Captain Talvis threaded his way through the multitude to proudly take his place at the Yankee Heart’s keel.
A warm feeling settled in her stomach, contentment that Captain Talvis was sincere in his efforts to make amends. Or could he have another reason?
“Good morning, Lorena.”
Recognizing the voice, she turned. “George, you surprise me. Your place belongs beside Papa and Captain Talvis, not here with me.”
Lorena gestured to the Yankee Heart, where the captain had begun to address the multitude, telling everyone how it had been his dream as a child to own a ship as grand as the one before them. An impossible dream, he’d thought . . . until today. She mourned every word she would miss at George’s interruption, but there was no help for it other than rudeness and so she gave the shipwright her attention. “Need I remind you, that ship you designed is the largest of New England’s merchant fleet?”
George’s fair-complexioned cheeks glowed with pride. “No, my dear girl. No need. Her dimensions still ring in my head. One hundred thirteen feet and one inch on her keel, thirty-eight-foot beam, thirteen-foot depth. But I bring you news, Lorena. News I cannot wait to share. Arrangements have been made. I shall be leaving soon.”