plates and bowls managed to stay on the table was beyond her, but aside from a little shift here and there, they were as sturdy as sailors under heavy seas. Candles showered the linen tablecloth, pewter plates, mugs, and silverware with flickering light, creating a rather elegant dining table for being out to sea.
“And he isn’t on the passenger list, Colonel?” the captain asked.
“No sir.” The colonel took the plate of biscuits from Eliza. Their fingers touched, and a spark jolted up her arm. His eyes shot to hers, playful and inviting. She looked away. Oh fiddle! He knows how he affects me!
“Of course the miscreant isn’t on the manifest!” Magnolia scowled and turned down a bowl of corn her mother passed. “I told you he attacked me in my cabin. He’s nothing but a lecherous swine!” She sniffed, and Eliza got the sense the girl’s histrionics were purely for show. Her mother threw an arm around her and drew her close. “There, there, now.”
Mr. Dodd looked as though he wanted to hug the girl himself, though not for the same reasons, Eliza was sure.
“Well, we can’t be turnin’ the ship around now.” The captain chomped on a biscuit, crumbs scattering across his full gray beard. “If he has money, he can pay. If not, he can work.”
Eliza helped herself to some greens and handed the dish to Angeline, who passed it on, staring numbly at her plate as if in a trance.
“You can’t seriously allow him to join us. He could be a criminal!” Magnolia twirled a lock of hair dangling at her neck, candlelight firing in her sapphire-blue eyes.
The brig canted, sending a brass candelabrum and several plates sliding over the white tablecloth. The creak and groan of wood seemed the only answer to the young lady’s outburst.
Until the colonel spoke up. “Never fear, Miss Magnolia. I’ll have a chat with him when he recovers. We will get to the bottom of this. I won’t allow any harm to come to you”—he glanced at Eliza—“or anyone aboard this ship.”
Eliza tore her gaze from his as the warmth of being cared for flooded her—a feeling she hadn’t felt in years.
“Magnolia!” Mr. Scott all but shouted, startling Eliza. “Quit fiddling with your hair. It’s a disgrace as it is.” He glanced back at the slave girl as if Magnolia’s coiffure were her fault, failing to notice that his daughter melted into her chair at his admonishment. Facing forward again, he adjusted the jeweled pin on his lapel as a scowl deepened the lines curving his mouth. “And speaking of harm, I had no idea I would be traveling with freed Negroes.” His gaze shot to the captain. “I simply must protest.”
The stew soured in Eliza’s stomach. “They are freedmen now, Mr. Scott.” She abhorred slavery, always had. Though her father had treated their slaves with kindness, her aunt and uncle, who had taken over the hotel after her father’s law practice became successful, had not. Now that the war was over and the Negroes were free, she wondered if they were any better off, for she’d heard that nothing but lynch mobs and starvation awaited them.
“It is the law now.” The captain shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth, but Eliza got the impression his sentiments lay more with Mr. Scott’s.
“They have a right to start over just as we do,” Eliza added.
The colonel turned to her, but she couldn’t tell if the expression on his face was shock or admiration.
Mr. Scott gave an incredulous snort. “Start over! What nonsense. Start over from what? For what purpose?”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Mr. Dodd took a mouthful of stew then dabbed a napkin over his lips. Tall, well-dressed, with blond hair, a lopsided, pointy nose, and deep blue eyes, one could almost consider the sheriff handsome. Even his manners and speech indicated good breeding. But something about the man gave Eliza the quivers. And not in a good way.
Mr. Scott nodded his approval toward Dodd.
The colonel cleared his throat.
“And he isn’t on the passenger list, Colonel?” the captain asked.
“No sir.” The colonel took the plate of biscuits from Eliza. Their fingers touched, and a spark jolted up her arm. His eyes shot to hers, playful and inviting. She looked away. Oh fiddle! He knows how he affects me!
“Of course the miscreant isn’t on the manifest!” Magnolia scowled and turned down a bowl of corn her mother passed. “I told you he attacked me in my cabin. He’s nothing but a lecherous swine!” She sniffed, and Eliza got the sense the girl’s histrionics were purely for show. Her mother threw an arm around her and drew her close. “There, there, now.”
Mr. Dodd looked as though he wanted to hug the girl himself, though not for the same reasons, Eliza was sure.
“Well, we can’t be turnin’ the ship around now.” The captain chomped on a biscuit, crumbs scattering across his full gray beard. “If he has money, he can pay. If not, he can work.”
Eliza helped herself to some greens and handed the dish to Angeline, who passed it on, staring numbly at her plate as if in a trance.
“You can’t seriously allow him to join us. He could be a criminal!” Magnolia twirled a lock of hair dangling at her neck, candlelight firing in her sapphire-blue eyes.
The brig canted, sending a brass candelabrum and several plates sliding over the white tablecloth. The creak and groan of wood seemed the only answer to the young lady’s outburst.
Until the colonel spoke up. “Never fear, Miss Magnolia. I’ll have a chat with him when he recovers. We will get to the bottom of this. I won’t allow any harm to come to you”—he glanced at Eliza—“or anyone aboard this ship.”
Eliza tore her gaze from his as the warmth of being cared for flooded her—a feeling she hadn’t felt in years.
“Magnolia!” Mr. Scott all but shouted, startling Eliza. “Quit fiddling with your hair. It’s a disgrace as it is.” He glanced back at the slave girl as if Magnolia’s coiffure were her fault, failing to notice that his daughter melted into her chair at his admonishment. Facing forward again, he adjusted the jeweled pin on his lapel as a scowl deepened the lines curving his mouth. “And speaking of harm, I had no idea I would be traveling with freed Negroes.” His gaze shot to the captain. “I simply must protest.”
The stew soured in Eliza’s stomach. “They are freedmen now, Mr. Scott.” She abhorred slavery, always had. Though her father had treated their slaves with kindness, her aunt and uncle, who had taken over the hotel after her father’s law practice became successful, had not. Now that the war was over and the Negroes were free, she wondered if they were any better off, for she’d heard that nothing but lynch mobs and starvation awaited them.
“It is the law now.” The captain shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth, but Eliza got the impression his sentiments lay more with Mr. Scott’s.
“They have a right to start over just as we do,” Eliza added.
The colonel turned to her, but she couldn’t tell if the expression on his face was shock or admiration.
Mr. Scott gave an incredulous snort. “Start over! What nonsense. Start over from what? For what purpose?”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Mr. Dodd took a mouthful of stew then dabbed a napkin over his lips. Tall, well-dressed, with blond hair, a lopsided, pointy nose, and deep blue eyes, one could almost consider the sheriff handsome. Even his manners and speech indicated good breeding. But something about the man gave Eliza the quivers. And not in a good way.
Mr. Scott nodded his approval toward Dodd.
The colonel cleared his throat.
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