The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [50]
Kit's heart leaped. "What ship?'
"What does that matter? It will bring mail, and perhaps some new bolts of cloth, and maybe the scissors we ordered from Boston. Anyway, it's fun to see a ship come in, and there won't be many more this fall."
An odd confusion, half eagerness and half reluctance, tossed Kit's spirits to and fro. She was minded to stay at home and help Mercy, even as her feet hurried her along the path beside Judith. But the moment they rounded the bend in the road she forgot her uncertainty. There was the Dolphin coming up the river with all her sails. The curving tail of the prow was chipped and dull, the hull was battered and knobby with barnacles, the canvas dark and weathered, yet how beautiful she was! In a surge of memories. Kit could almost feel the deck lifting beneath her feet, and a longing almost like homesickness caught at her throat. How she would love to sail on the Dolphin again! Forgotten was the smell of horses, the motionless waiting, the sudden terror of gale and lightning. She remembered only the endless shining reaches of water that stretched to the end of the world, the vast arc o£ the milky way, and the scouring rush of salt wind that blew back her hair. What would she give to stand on the deck of the Dolphin, facing down the river, toward the open sea and Barbados!
The Dolphin rounded to, her top sails were furled, and with a great creaking of lines and shudder of canvas, she came to rest alongside the Wethersfield dock. The onlookers crowded forward as bales and barrels and knobby bundles were passed over the sides into their eager hands. Kit and Judith stood a little aside, enjoying the bustling scene. The excitement of the crowd seemed to be contagious. When Judith spoke, Kit was surprised to find that her own lips were strangely unmanageable. A queer trembling made her clench her fists tight. She could not turn her eyes away from the deck of the ship.
At last she glimpsed a fair head emerging from the hatchway, almost hidden behind a vast load. It was some time before Nat Eaton, carelessly scanning the busy wharf, caught sight of her. Then he raised one hand in the briefest possible greeting. Kit knew how Nat could be when he was absorbed in the ship's business. She waited, pretending an interest in each bit of cargo that came over the rail. Gradually the citizens of Wethersfield claimed their orders, the merchants from Hartford counted off the barrels of nails and oil and salt and only a handful of idlers still stood about.
"Come on, Kit," urged Judith. "There's nothing more to see."
No, Kit had to agree, there was not the slightest excuse for lingering further. With a little shrug she turned away, and immediately she heard his voice.
"Mistress Tyler! Wait a moment!" She whirled back to see Nat bounding over the rail. He came toward her with his light buoyant step, carrying under his arm a bulky package wrapped in a bit of sailcloth.
"Good day to you, Mistress Wood," he greeted Judith respectfully. Then he turned to Kit. "Would you be kind enough to deliver a bit of cargo for me?" The words were acceptable enough, it was the indifferent tone that was bewildering.
"'Tis a length of woolen cloth I picked up for Hannah," he explained, holding out the package.
Kit took it reluctantly. "She'll be waiting for you to come yourself."
"I know, but my father is anxious to be off. Lose this wind and we'll be delayed here for days. Hannah might need this. If you can spare the time from your fashionable friends."
Kit's mouth opened, but before she could speak he went on.
"An interesting cargo we had this trip. One item in particular. Sixteen diamond-paned windows ordered from England by one William Ashby. They say he's building a house for his bride. A hoity-toity young lady from Barbados, I hear, and the best is none too good for her. No oiled paper in her windows, no indeed!"
She was taken aback by the biting mockery in his voice.
"You might have mentioned it, Kit," he said, lowering his