Brogan curled his lips in a soundless growl.
“Well, what did ye expect?” the mate raved on. “Why must ye be such an arrogant fellow? Flaunting yerself before a good girl on Nathaniel Huntley’s land? It ain’t polite to go up to some unfamiliar woman and force yer acquaintance without so much as a ‘how d’ye do.’”
Brogan checked his reflection for damage to his face, but saw only his scowl and a slow drip of blood from his chin. He blotted the spot with a towel. “I was only having a little fun. I meant no harm, and if in the process I managed to glean a bit of useful information about the Huntley household, all well and good, but the girl was not the least cooperative. Anyway, I do recall wishing her a good morning.”
“Well, a good morning it turned out to be indeed. Someone did not like yer idea of fun, and do ye wonder maybe it wasn’t one of the blessed Savior’s angels, come to knock ye over the head for the deed ye hope to carry out?”
“Don’t be a fool, Jabez. The Almighty does not send out angels to knock men over the head.” The ache in the back of his skull had begun to throb again. Brogan swung his long legs onto the coverlet of faded blue-checkered linen and leaned back against the goose-down pillows. “I can assure you, He hasn’t the time to bother about the doings of my life.” From beneath the straw-filled ticking, the bedstead ropes groaned as he stretched out.
“No, Mr. Smith, there is only one thing I have ever received from your blessed Savior, and that is indifference.”
Jabez winced, giving Brogan pause with regard to his choice of words. His troubled relationship with the Lord was not for lack of his friend sharing his faith.
Raised by his devout Christian grandmother, Jabez Smith had a gift for zeroing in on people in need of his guidance. Brogan had been no more than six when Jabez rescued him from the gutters of Boston Harbor, procuring him employment as a cabin boy on the vessel he sailed with. Until then, Brogan had been a scrawny waif on the run from an orphan asylum, where he was repeatedly forced to wear a tag labeling him as Bad. He’d been told that God would see the tag and ignore his prayers, for God wanted no part of baseborn orphans.
To his credit, Jabez had tried to dispel the belief. He procured a pocket Bible from a local Bible society to use as text for Brogan’s reading and writing lessons in the same manner other children were taught at Sunday school. Brogan discovered a passion for learning and the focus to comprehend even the complicated mathematics of navigation. He made certain to be in attendance each time their generous and fair captain held school for any interested crewmen. He sought to better himself, but more, he sought truth, though he continued to feel unworthy of that truth.
He took that Bible with him on every ship he sailed with. He carried it in his ditty bag through manhood and into the war. Before long, it would hold a place of honor on the bookshelf of the great cabin aboard the ship Yankee Heart. The odd thing was, Brogan could not recall the last time he’d so much as opened the cover.
Jabez cleared his throat and the sound returned Brogan’s attention to the issue at hand. “Well then, aren’t ye at least concerned the boy may not come willingly to a father he does not remember? Benjamin may resent being taken from the only life he’s ever known.”
Brogan raised himself on one elbow. “I will not allow a son of mine to be raised an orphan, believing he has no one in the world he truly belongs to, when he has a father who loves him. I know the pain in that. Benjamin is very young; he’ll recover. On the other hand, I must be gentle yet swift in gaining his affections. I don’t wish him hurt. I intend to restore my relationship with my son during the time I remain in Duxboro. I shall convince Nathaniel Huntley to allow me to take the boy for a short cruise on my new merchantman, and then we three shall sail off, never to return.”
“A ship’s deck makes for a queer playground. Maybe the boy needs more than a life at sea.”
Brogan mulled the comment with one raised brow. “The sea has been good and fair to the pair of us. And he’ll have a parent who loves him looking after his welfare. God rest her soul, we both recall what little care Benjamin’s mother had for her own child, don’t we?”
The look on Jabez’s face was answer enough. “Very well, then,” the mate conceded. “Aren’t ye intimidated by Huntley’s wealth and influence? What if he decides to pursue us? And I am willing to bet he will. What will we do then?”