Kestrel on the Horizon

Excerpt:
Nathaniel Collins, captain of the sloop Golden Horizon, walked the morning streets of Bridgetown, Barbados. The cries of vendors, the soft laughter of the islanders, and the noises of animals all blended into a pleasant change from shipboard life.

Passers-by saw a tall, thin man, his long reddish-brown hair tied back in a green velvet bow, dressed in a coat and breeches that -- while not the height of fashion -- were at least clean and neat. Observers, mostly ladies from behind their fans and under the edges of parasols, could watch him amble from shop window to booth, his sharp green-brown eyes above a sharper nose and both taking in the morning and the life of the city. An auction notice on a building caught his eye.

The Estate of one Elijah Goodman was to be sold in its entirety: house, furnishings, slaves and other livestock, beginning at eight. The sugar plantation called Breakfront was to be liquidated to pay the deceased owner’s debts.

Collins checked the sun. He had time and he had money, a great deal of the latter from a Spanish ship: silver mostly, from Spain’s mint in Mexico; but also some American gold, Spanish reales and even a few louis d’ors and English crowns were jumbled into the mix. His orders from the King were explicit in his Letter of Marque and Reprisal. Spaniards, French, Barbary corsairs -- any ship not flying the flags of England or her former colonies -- was fair game. An attack on the colonial ships could reopen hostilities that had only ended twenty years before. He often regretted he was born too late to see heroism against the American rebels.

Even so, there was one colonial ship he was more than willing to make an exception for. He’d seen the Kestrel lying at anchor in the bay. He only hoped to avoid Captain Thomas Harrison for the length of his stay.
The fragrant island air cloyed now, as he thought of the rival captain, the flowers and fruit that had been so pleasant blending into a reek that clung like the powder and cologne the other captain favored. Collins remembered the scent well; remembered it beside him on deck, and above him in the Captain’s bunk.

He’d sailed under Thomas Harrison for six years, learning all the man had to teach. The Captain had been smitten with him. Collins hadn’t minded at first. Thomas was a handsome man, tall, clean featured and strong. But the second position had never sat well. He could accept a lesser share of treasure, but being always ignored, always second, and always on the bottom in bed, wore badly.

Now he was his own man, with his own ship and crew. He shared all spoils fairly and took only the willing to his bed. They never left unsatisfied.
He found the auction. Goodman had been quite wealthy but had left no heirs and a great many debts beyond the death duties. The Crown would sell it all, keep the proceeds and tax the next owner, thus doubling their share on Breakfront. The slaves were first. The field slaves went in lots of ten, their dark skin gleaming in the sun. Collins saw nothing worth having at the prices being asked.

He ignored the maid servants and cooks. Women were bad luck aboard ship, and he would no more sail with one on his sloop than he would set sail on a Friday. The various grooms and skilled laborers commanded high prices. He gave strong consideration to a carpenter, but the price of three hundred guineas made him pass. His current one was competent if not over-skilled. Last on the block was Goodman’s body servant.

Collins had expected a doddering old man, barely capable of looking after his equally aged master. Instead, the man on the block was young, not halfway into his twenties. Like the other male slaves, he wore only pants. But even at a distance, Collins could tell they were good cotton and not the slubby stuff put on the others. He was not muscular from working in the fields. Nor was he as dark as the others. Their skins gleamed blue-black from working in the sun; his was the color of Spanish chocolate, of coffee mixed with rich cream.
“Adlai. Age twenty-three. Can read, write and cipher, intelligent and diligent. Suited to light work, butler duties, body service and clerking.”

What struck Collins was the color of his eyes. The color of sea and sky and deep enough to fall into, instead of the usual brown, they stood out like spots of light in his dark face. They rested on Collins for a moment. The sadness he saw there granted him an epiphany.

He wanted the man. He wanted to make that closed mouth laugh and talk. He wanted to see those odd blue eyes sparkle. He wanted to see Adlai happy. He wanted to be the one to make Adlai happy.