Captain's Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

opened his eyes and smiled a weak but genuinely warm smile at the newcomer. "Thank you, Peter. You may dismiss the man, I accept his apology. The true injury was elsewhere."
The stick rested on the sailor's blackened cheek for a moment, while the young officer looked down like an owner at his slave. "Get this cleaned up then. And, Bates ... Don't trespass on my kindness again. I cannot always be so forgiving."
As Bates swabbed the foul mixture of sea-water and sick from the deck, leaping down to the waist of the ship to refill his bucket, the officer folded his hands behind his back and drew himself up. He was a young man who might have been handsome had there been any affability about his
countenance, his eyes brownish green and stony as chips of jade. They softened as he looked at Emily and, tucking the cane under his left arm, he held out an elegant hand and smiled. "But we haven't been introduced. First Lieutenant Peter Kenyon. My family's estate borders that of your guardian. I must apologize again on behalf of my ship. We have none of us slept for the past week—running before the storm. I know that's no excuse but..."
"Please." It was painful to Emily to receive this gallantry even while she could see the terrible marks of the man's violence blooming on Bates' face. She knew, of course, that men were violent, but the easy ferocity, coming on top of that dreadful, murderous glare, made her feel conscious of the scarcely leashed brutality on board. She was one of only three women among eight hundred men. Pleasantries that might have been flattering in an assembly room full of other girls became difficult to negotiate, almost threatening in this atmosphere. "Please, it's quite all right. I'm an ignorant traveler in your world—I must expect to offend at all turns. I dare say I shall learn better in time."
She took the offered hand, surprised to find it quite clean— not bloodstained at all. Surprised, too, that he did not presume to raise it to his lips but only bowed over it civilly.
"You should certainly have been told that the windward side of the quarterdeck is sacrosanct. No one treads there but the captain. It's a tradition so old we forget sometimes that not everyone is born knowing it."
"Have I offended terribly?"
"Not at all," Kenyon said with conviction. On closer examination, there seemed to be something about him in conflict with Emily's initial impression, and now his lean face broke into a small smile, self conscious, rather sweet. "You were ... prevented, after all."
"Prevented," her father broke in with a self-depreciating laugh, "well, yes, and I am to suppose that being in the fire is preferable to being in the frying pan?"
Kenyon's smile widened. "I could name you several admirals who suffer from the same affliction, sir. It's the neatness of the decks that occupies our minds. Next time, over the side or—in extremis—into your hat, and no one will think the worse of you."
This was a comfort, and receiving comfort at this young man's hands was something of a puzzle. It was hard for Emily to reconcile the Kenyon of the cane with the Kenyon of the smile. She had almost considered asking him how he himself held the two together just as Edwards' voice croaked out behind them like the boom of a bittern.
"Mr. Kenyon, when you are done toadying, might you spare a second's attention to your tasks?"
There had been a thawing, a change of those green eyes from ice to liquid, so slight that Emily noticed it now only when it was withdrawn, and Kenyon again became all edges— inhumanly cold. He bowed stiffly and withdrew, and she found herself relieved to have him gone.
"Emily," her father chided her gently, "Peter is a fine young gentleman, whatever you might think. Had he not intervened, I would have been forced to punish the man myself. Let these people show contempt to you once, and you will never regain their respect."
"I understand, sir," she said and curtsied, feeling grateful to him that he had at least