Page 90 of The Salamander

Jon joined him, drawing the attention of half the room. He spoke briefly, without embellishment, telling Derby how the British flew the Dutch flag to lure in ships unaware they had taken the island. He told how the Pickering had been taken along with her prizes, how the prisoners endured and escaped, and how the French freed the island. The men around him listened in taut silence, their cups forgotten.

Derby exhaled. “A hard tale, one the town will remember. You’ve done Salem credit once more. Though the British captured the Pickering and your prizes, you brought the men back and every family is singing your praise.” He paused to take a drink of his coffee. “Now that you’re home, I’ll not let you rest too long. There’s a new vessel being fitted out at Briggs’ shipyard on the South River, a fine ship, two hundred tons, fourteen guns, forty men. She’s the Julius Caesar. She’ll carry a letter of marque in the next few months, and I’d have none but you command her.”

Jon gazed into the fire for a long moment. Its light showed the faint scars on his wrists, the hollows in his cheeks, and the clear, unwavering steadiness in his eyes. “I am humbled by your confidence in me. She sounds like a proud ship,” he said quietly, “and I thank you more than words can say. I am pleased to accept, but first—” he smiled faintly “—I have a wedding to attend. Mine.”

Derby’s grin spread beneath his dark eyes. “Then we’ll drink to both, the bride and the sea. May neither be too rough on you.”

Laughter rippled through the room, easing the weight of solemn talk. Someone called for a toast, and cups were raised in a ring of candlelight.

“To Captain Haraden, home again, and to the Julius Caesar when she’s ready!”

Jon stood, acknowledging the cheer with a small nod, as he raised his cup. “To Salem,” he said, his voice carrying. “To her ships, her sailors, and her faith in liberty. May we be worthy of them all.”

Derby leaned toward Jon as the voices subsided. “Tell me, Captain, who might this fortunate woman be?”

“I am the fortunate one,” said Jon. “She’s Eunice Mason, daughter of Reverend James Diman, and coincidentally, governess to my daughters.”

Another smile crossed Derby’s face. “Well then, you are rescued only to be blessed.”

“How goes the war?” Jon asked, knowing Derby would have his ear to the latest news.

A murmur ran through the men near the fire as another merchant, Benjamin Goodhue, folded his paper. “Despite Cornwallis’ surrender at Yorktown, the war drags on.”

“It’s true,” said Derby. “The British still hold New York, and the fighting in the Carolinas grows more brutal by the month. But St. Eustatius is not the only island in the Indies the French are taking back.”

Jon set down his cup. “Then we must hold fast,” he said. “Victory means little if we grow weary before the cause is secured. There are still ships to defend what we’ve won.”

Derby regarded him a moment, then nodded. “You’ll have your chance, Captain. The Julius Caesar will sail when the ice breaks, and with men enough who still believe in the fight.”

Outside, the wind rattled the panes and the harbor bells struck the hour. As Jon left the coffeehouse, he drew his coat close, feeling the salt chill in the air. The sea would always call him, but for now, there was warmth waiting at home, and a promise made before God he meant to keep.

Haraden house, end of February 1782

SNOW LINGERED IN the ruts along Essex Street, but spring’s breath was already in the air, the faint drip of melting ice and the cry of gulls farther inland than usual bearing witness. In the Haraden house, Eunice’s plans were quietly underway.

She sat by the window with her mother, a Bible open on the table beside the sewing basket. A length of blue woolen fabric, the color of a clear morning sky, lay across her lap, the fabric simple but fine. “It needn’t be grand,” Eunice said softly. “He’s had enough of ceremony for a lifetime.”

Her mother smiled. “Then plain it shall be, plain, but lovely. A captain’s wife’s gown, meant for loving her man, for prayer and for waiting. You should know your father and I are very happy for you.”

A smile she could not stop spread across Eunice’s face. “None so happy as I.”

They chose a ribbon for Eunice’s hair the color of the dawn and talked of flowers that might bloom for the wedding in March. “Bluebells will be in the fields,” her mother said. “Though for the church, it might not be warm enough for much beyond evergreens and laurel.”

Eunice’s longing rose for the day she would at last be Jon’s wife. “A small gathering at East Church and a supper after, simple and close, would please us both.”

Later that week, Eunice visited the cooper’s yard near the harbor. Silas went with her. Along with Martha, they had saved money to buy Jon a new sea chest. Together, they chose one that was oak-banded and brass-hinged, its lid carved with the faint design of an anchor. “We’ll line it with sailcloth,” Silas said. “Your knittin’ and Martha’s will go inside along with other gifts.”

When the chest was delivered, Eunice ran her hand over the fine craftsmanship, then filled it with care: a new shirt, a pair of wool socks, a flask of molasses, a small leather-bound Bible to replace the one the British had taken from him. On the first page, she wrote, For Jonathan, that you may never sail without a compass true. She’d also had a local artist paint a miniature of her and his two daughters. Wrapped in fine muslin, a note with it read, So you know who waits for you at home and prays for you every day.

In the days before their wedding, Jon had ordered a new coat made to replace the one ravaged in St. Eustatius, a fine navy broadcloth trimmed with gold braid and epaulets, the mark of a captain once more. When she saw him wear it for the first time, Eunice’s heart ached with pride. He looked every inch the man she had loved and waited for, the sea still in his eyes but peace at last in his face.

The day before the wedding, Elias Derby stopped by the house. He carried a long parcel wrapped in canvas. Jon welcomed him into the parlor. “Elias, come in!”

Derby greeted Eunice who offered him hot cider. The merchant took a seat by the fire, as Jon opened the parcel. Seeing its contents, Eunice caught her breath. “So beautiful!”

Jon’s gaze lingered long on the finely crafted sword, the blade etched with a single phrase: For liberty and the sea.

Derby’s smile was brief. “The English took yours. Let Salem bestow you with another.”