Prize of My Heart

Lorena put her weight into turning the wheel with him, and the stern settled with a roaring splash, plunging the Yankee Heart into a blanket of spray as she raced ahead into the night.

Lorena was taken with a tremendous surge of daring and excitement. She laughed, exhilarated. It was as if the stars twinkled just for her. She tilted her face up to the misty salt air and inhaled.

“It is my desire that you enjoy this journey as much as your homecoming,” Brogan said at her ear.

Lorena radiated delight at the sentiment, her spirits soaring. “Then you have your desire already. For since I boarded your ship less than two days ago, my destiny, as well as my course, has been altered completely. The voyage I anticipated to endure with sadness has now become a holiday cruise.”

She’d expected her words would please him, but Brogan grew silent and pensive behind her. She felt him balance with the roll of the deck. One leg braced, the other knee bent, he leaned into the ship’s heel, then straightened, keeping himself steady in order that she might lean against him.

“And now our lesson,” he said, speaking at her ear again. “Glance aloft, Lorena, at the sails and the stars in the sky.”

Three masts towered above, the tallest reaching a height of ninety feet. Their square sails billowed on a steady breeze, the white of the canvas in sharp contrast to the deep midnight of the sky, where stars twinkled in a scattering of white-gold light.

Lorena admired the view. “It is a lovely night, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, but I have another purpose in directing your attention aloft. Tell me, which is the topgallant of the mainmast?” Brogan’s breath was at her cheek, and Lorena felt her heartbeat quicken because of it.

“It is there, third sail from the top, beneath the skysail and the main royal.”

His laughter rumbled in her ear. “As a shipbuilder’s daughter I should hardly be surprised you’re no saltwater sailor. All right, Lorena, let your gaze drift past the luff of the topgallant. Its forward edge, rather, and there I want you to focus on a single star in the sky.”

Lorena obeyed, though she failed to see what this had to do with steering the ship. “Very well. I have a star in sight.”

“Set your eye on that star, and as long as it remains in the same position in relation to the topgallant, the Yankee Heart keeps straight on her course.”

“Ah, clever,” she said, understanding.

“Keep her as close to the wind as possible without her sails flapping. Full and by. And if she swings too far from that star, turn the wheel a spoke or two. I’m going to keep my hands alongside yours, but I’ll leave it up to you, Lorena, to decide when she needs a turn.”

An excited, frightening rush of exhilaration surged through her. She had been around ships her whole life, but this was entirely different, a challenge to her mind and body, requiring the use of all her faculties. She held the wheel with fingers clenched, toes curled inside her sandals and fighting for purchase on the deck, all the while maintaining concentration on that star.

At the same time she couldn’t resist wondering about the sea captain who stood behind her. Curiosity for him burned inside her.

He shared old sailing stories, several of which made her giggle. He told of his escapades during the war.

“The British had our American harbors heavily blockaded, so we adopted the practice of sailing out stern-first. That is, sailing backward so they’d think we were traveling in the other direction.” He chuckled at the memory. “On one occasion, Mr. Smith and I ran the blockade in an old sloop with a load of gunpowder, hoping to make delivery to Newport. We buried it in manure, and the stench was so great the British boarding officer gave it only a cursory inspection. We managed to slip past, undetected.”

The time flew by unheeded, and with it the wheel grew more difficult to control. Lorena begged relief and transferred full command of the helm to Brogan.

“You tell many fascinating and amusing tales,” she said, “but I sense in you a story you have yet to share. A story you keep to yourself. One more personal and far more interesting. Quite likely painful. You jest, and yet there are times your smile does not reach your eyes.”

The sea churned, running higher than it had when they’d first gained the quarterdeck less than an hour ago. His sights remained trained ahead, the corners of his eyes creasing in concentration. Lorena suspected not so much concentrating on the ship’s course as on her words.

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