windows.
Eve ventured out of the cabin and onto the deck to see for herself just where she and her friends had landed. Sally and Penelope were leaning on the starboard rail, heads together in conversation while the sailors went about their business. Since the women were dressed more or less in the same unorthodox fashion as she, more than one of the salts cast lingering glances at their ankles.
Since there was no help for it, she might as well put on a bold face. Ignoring the crew’s leers, Eve strode across the deck to join her friends.
“Oh, Evie, isn’t the island beautiful?” Sally gushed.
“Compared to bobbing in the deep, I’d expect any place would be,” Eve said sourly. But truth to tell, the dense tangle of rhododendron and oleander beneath graceful palms and towering cedars was easy on the eyes. Especially after weeks of nothing but endless sea. The sweet scent of hibiscus wafted past her nose and the breeze held the heady breath of green growing things.
“We’ve landed on our feet and no mistake,” Sally went on. “Why, the captain is taking us into his own home. And Mr. Higgs says he’s all but lord of Devil Isle.”
“Devil Isle,” Eve repeated. How fitting for a black-eyed devil like Captain Scott. “And him the lord of the place. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?”
“Not really. There’s a governor, but Mr. Higgs says folk generally pay him little heed unless there’s a visiting delegation from England,” Sally rattled on with scarcely a breath. “It’s Captain Scott they look to. And it’s noised about that the captain is a gentleman of high birth.”
“And low sensibilities,” Eve muttered.
As if she hadn’t heard her, Sally breezed on. “Likely a second son, they say, because he don’t bear no real title, ’cept the town folk here do call him Lord Nick.”
“What else did Mr. Higgs say?” Eve figured it would do no harm to learn more about the place and the people in it.
“He says Devil Isle is the old name of the place, o’ course. Seems when folk first came here there was naught but a flock of birds and a herd of wild hogs, of all things! In any case, the sailors thought their calls and grunts were the cries of demons, up from the pit.” Sally shivered in horrified fascination. “Now Mr. Higgs says the islands are called the Bermudas.”
“Seems Mr. Higgs is quite a fount of information,” Eve said dryly. She cast a glance toward the first mate, who stood near the rail, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze darted toward the women, then away almost immediately when she caught him looking. His face reddened with a quick flush. Tall and lanky, with his pale hair pulled into a neat queue beneath his tricorne, Mr. Higgs reminded Eve of a long-legged colt, skittish and wary. “He seems shy.”
“Do you think so?” Sally rested a plump cheek on herpalm. “I was worried about how we might seem to him in these clothes, but he said as we were the picture of English womanhood, no matter what we wore.” Sally sighed in a thoroughly besotted way. “Wasn’t that kind?”
“The Captain seems kind, too,” Penny said. “And brave.”
“But far too accustomed to getting his own way,” Eve said. “He refuses to take us on to Charleston.”
“That’s just as well.” Sally’s head bobbed in a satisfied nod. “St. Georges will do me fine. Once I set foot on dry land again, it’ll take the devil himself to force me onto another ship.”
White-roofed houses came into view. Neat and clean, the village of St. Georges was a welcome dash of civilization, as if a snippet of England had reached across the Atlantic’s gray waves. The ship’s bell began to sound news of their approach.
Eve looked back up to the helm, where Captain Scott stood behind the wheel. Legs spread, muscles bulging beneath his open-collared shirt, he strong-armed the ship into its berth. Instead of wearing a wig, as any gentleman would, or a tricorne over a neat queue like Mr. Higgs,
Eve ventured out of the cabin and onto the deck to see for herself just where she and her friends had landed. Sally and Penelope were leaning on the starboard rail, heads together in conversation while the sailors went about their business. Since the women were dressed more or less in the same unorthodox fashion as she, more than one of the salts cast lingering glances at their ankles.
Since there was no help for it, she might as well put on a bold face. Ignoring the crew’s leers, Eve strode across the deck to join her friends.
“Oh, Evie, isn’t the island beautiful?” Sally gushed.
“Compared to bobbing in the deep, I’d expect any place would be,” Eve said sourly. But truth to tell, the dense tangle of rhododendron and oleander beneath graceful palms and towering cedars was easy on the eyes. Especially after weeks of nothing but endless sea. The sweet scent of hibiscus wafted past her nose and the breeze held the heady breath of green growing things.
“We’ve landed on our feet and no mistake,” Sally went on. “Why, the captain is taking us into his own home. And Mr. Higgs says he’s all but lord of Devil Isle.”
“Devil Isle,” Eve repeated. How fitting for a black-eyed devil like Captain Scott. “And him the lord of the place. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?”
“Not really. There’s a governor, but Mr. Higgs says folk generally pay him little heed unless there’s a visiting delegation from England,” Sally rattled on with scarcely a breath. “It’s Captain Scott they look to. And it’s noised about that the captain is a gentleman of high birth.”
“And low sensibilities,” Eve muttered.
As if she hadn’t heard her, Sally breezed on. “Likely a second son, they say, because he don’t bear no real title, ’cept the town folk here do call him Lord Nick.”
“What else did Mr. Higgs say?” Eve figured it would do no harm to learn more about the place and the people in it.
“He says Devil Isle is the old name of the place, o’ course. Seems when folk first came here there was naught but a flock of birds and a herd of wild hogs, of all things! In any case, the sailors thought their calls and grunts were the cries of demons, up from the pit.” Sally shivered in horrified fascination. “Now Mr. Higgs says the islands are called the Bermudas.”
“Seems Mr. Higgs is quite a fount of information,” Eve said dryly. She cast a glance toward the first mate, who stood near the rail, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze darted toward the women, then away almost immediately when she caught him looking. His face reddened with a quick flush. Tall and lanky, with his pale hair pulled into a neat queue beneath his tricorne, Mr. Higgs reminded Eve of a long-legged colt, skittish and wary. “He seems shy.”
“Do you think so?” Sally rested a plump cheek on herpalm. “I was worried about how we might seem to him in these clothes, but he said as we were the picture of English womanhood, no matter what we wore.” Sally sighed in a thoroughly besotted way. “Wasn’t that kind?”
“The Captain seems kind, too,” Penny said. “And brave.”
“But far too accustomed to getting his own way,” Eve said. “He refuses to take us on to Charleston.”
“That’s just as well.” Sally’s head bobbed in a satisfied nod. “St. Georges will do me fine. Once I set foot on dry land again, it’ll take the devil himself to force me onto another ship.”
White-roofed houses came into view. Neat and clean, the village of St. Georges was a welcome dash of civilization, as if a snippet of England had reached across the Atlantic’s gray waves. The ship’s bell began to sound news of their approach.
Eve looked back up to the helm, where Captain Scott stood behind the wheel. Legs spread, muscles bulging beneath his open-collared shirt, he strong-armed the ship into its berth. Instead of wearing a wig, as any gentleman would, or a tricorne over a neat queue like Mr. Higgs,
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