“Don’t worry, Sarah, you will still be paid. Miss Findlay and I won’t receive wages in your place.” She smiled at the woman, who laughed gleefully and waved away the other woman who had been working beside her. “If you insist,” she said as they left in lighter spirits.
“You don’t get paid for your work?” I asked Elizabeth as she motioned for me to join her at the copper.
She handed me a ladle. “I receive payment for my work on theMaelstrom. I help out in the fields and in the mill when we’re not sailing because I care about the mission.”
“Does your family live there, or in the big house with you?”
“My family died in Jamaica when I was young,” she said. She showed me how to scoop out the thickening syrup and place it in the next copper. I followed her instructions before commenting on what she said about her past.
“Is that where you were born?” I asked. If she was willing to speak of her life, I wanted to learn more about her.
“No, I was taken from Africa with my parents at age six. We were transported to Jamaica and lived there as enslaved people until they died just one year before the trade was abolished.” She glanced at me. “Am I overwhelming you with details?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. I am listening.”
“I was about fifteen, and Mary purchased me from a planter in Jamaica. She set me free along with everyone else here. I worked on thefarm for about five years, then Captain Whitmore joined her efforts in protecting the mission and opposing Jacque Corsaire. I joined his crew. I fell in love with the sea and have been the first mate of theMaelstromfor the past three years.” She smiled softly at me as she concluded her life story.
“So how long have you been sailing?”
“Five years in all.”
“That would make you five and twenty, then?”
“That’s right. How old are you?” she asked. I could feel her curiosity about me mounting. Now that she told me her history, it was my turn to oblige.
“Three and twenty.” I glanced at her. She was waiting for more. “Graham and I became engaged just before my twentieth birthday.”
“And you grew up in Scotland, correct?”
“Yes, in a place called Edleroy with my father and brother, Cameron. My mother died before I had a chance to remember her, but my brother and I are close. And my father sent me to English schools in order to learn etiquette and manners of nobility. It’s why I don’t speak with a Scots dialect,” I told her.
“I admit I don’t hear a significant difference between your accent and Graham’s.” She shrugged. “You both sound British to me.”
I laughed. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”
“Can you tell I am from Jamaica, or does my accent sound the same as those from St. Kitts?” she asked me with a smile.
“Good point.” I scooped another ladle of the hardened syrup. “What else would you like to know?” Speaking with her had begun to thaw the tension between us, at least it had for me.
“Tell me about the Graham you know.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Does his past really matter to you?”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “Of course it does. He is important to me, and you don’t know how much he has struggled these months. We weren’t sure he would wake up, and when he did, without any memory of his life, it was challenging. It took me weeks of coaxing to get him out of a deep depression. But once he began forming bonds with us, he seemed to find himself. I’ve been by his side, and he’s improved a great deal and has become comfortable in his new life. But I believe it’s important for his future to remember his past. I think he knows that, too. It isn’t something he has admitted to yet”—she scooped another ladleful and then looked at me again—“but I imagine he feels your arrival is both a curse and a blessing.”
“That’s very…direct,” I said, surprised. “Since we’re being candid, can I ask you how far your relationship with Graham has developed? It’s clear you have feelings for him.”
She nodded, acknowledging the truth of my words. “We have both admitted we care for each other, but we also knew of your existence.”
“The pocket watch,” I said, recalling her comment about my likeness just after they rescued us from the dinghy.
“As soon as I saw you, I knew that whatever our relationship could have been had to wait until he remembered…you.” Her face betrayed her disappointment.
“Are you under the impression that you and he will reach an understanding once his feelings for me are resolved?” I hoped that wasn’t her meaning, but I waited to have it contradicted.
“Not exactly, but I think the most important thing is that he regains his memories. You must also suspect that you’re the only person who can jog his memory.” Her voice sounded sorrowful, as if she wished she could be the one with the most influence in his life.
“That is my assumption, yes.” I tapped the ladle on the copper. “That is, if it is possible he will remember anything…”
