Not Cut Out for This
by Santa Crux

In my case it's just deciding that maybe I wasn't meant to do this.  RW

Isabelle took on a lot in her first year in Matavai. Opening a new business, buying a partnership in the Rattler. In Blackbirding , after being interrogated and threatened by a native tribe on Tofua, she shared her self-doubt with David - that maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a South Seas trader. Even the strongest woman has doubts sometimes.

Set at the end of Season 1. Mauriri and David's partnership is at an end, Isabelle has saved the Rattler from the bank. We left David looking out to the sea. What happens next........

For a blissful moment, Isabelle lay in her bed, listening to the seabirds call out with their sharp scornful cries. The breeze fluttered the chintz curtains, the muggy heat a sign that today would not bring the first torrents of the rainy season. The air that wafted by her was balmy and laden with the fruity aroma of tropical blossoms. Another brilliant hot day. Isabelle sighed.

She wasn’t looking forward to the day. She’d been up late the previous night, grooming five horses and organizing the paperwork required for their sale - breeding papers, bills of sale. The buyer would be coming in on the first ferry from Moorea. With any luck that transaction would be completed by mid-morning and she could concentrate on winning a contract with the Hong Kong Shipping Company. They needed a trading ship to carry copra from the Cook Islands to China. Isabelle had used every contact she had to arrange the appointment for this afternoon. She had set up a meeting earlier in the day with David to try to figure how low they could bid to ensure that they would earn the contract and still cover their costs. Unfortunately, the captain’s obsessive behaviour in the Jenny Duvall affair had shaken the merchant community’s faith in his reliability. It would take time and consistent performance to re-establish the Rattler as a ship of choice in the minds of Matavai businessmen. This contract could be an important first step.

She swung her feet to the floor and extended her sun-burned arms above her in a languorous stretch. Her back ached from her late-night grooming. The livery had almost too many horses for her and Paiku to care for, but with her resources tied up in The Rattler, she couldn’t afford to hire anyone to help out. Paiku had his hands full with the day-to-day care of the horses - grooming, saddling and exercising. It fell upon Isabelle to manage the business end – rentals and sales, breeding arrangements, buying trips, and the myriad other tasks that were part of the business. The stable was in need of any number of minor repairs.  She sighed again.

She threw on her jodhpurs and an old shirt; there were chores to do before she met with Angus Gunn, the man who was buying the horses. She pulled a brush through her sleep-tangled hair, the curls springing back in rebellion. She tied it back in a no-nonsense plait, scrubbed her face and ate a quick breakfast of toast and fruit while the kettle boiled. As she sipped at a cup of tea she reviewed the finances of the stable. She reluctantly made a decision to cancel her next buying trip. She had neither the cash to purchase horses nor the time to train them until she received some return on her investment in the Rattler. A quick look at the clock and she was scrambling down the stairs to the stable.

She called a quick hello to Paiku as he filled the mangers of the horses in their stalls. She refilled the water buckets and went out to the paddock to watch the younger colts and fillies as they gambolled about, kicking and feinting, exploring their growing speed and agility. Their dams stood patiently by, grazing as their foals butted demandingly at them, reaching for their teats. Isabelle caught herself in a reverie at their playful energy, a foolish smile on her face. She turned back to the stable.

Paiku had tethered Gunn’s horses to the hitching rail near the stairs to the hayloft. The two-year-old chestnut was quite restless, tugging at its lead and jostling the other horses. Isabelle frowned at its behaviour. The buyer had told her about his intention to train the colt as a mount for his young son. Isabelle had once hoped the athletic horse would have made a good breeding stallion but its stubborn aggressiveness had convinced her that it needed to be gelded. However, Mr Gunn had been taken with its showy looks and fiery demeanour and had dismissed her advice with an abrupt wave of his hand.

She realized that the horse would have to be separated from the others and tied by itself before it spooked the others. The slim brunette stepped in with soothing words to untether the glossy young stallion. Just then it took a vicious nip at the neck of the horse next to it. The bitten horse slammed into its neighbour. The milling horses swung back into the spooked chestnut. Isabelle tensed as she read rebellion in the horse’s laid back ears and rolling eyes. The colt yanked its head at the lead-rope and backed up onto its haunches. Even prepared, the slender woman on the end of the rope felt like her arm was being yanked out of its socket. She gave a little ground and stepped toward the post to try to wrap the line around it. The horse leaped to the side at that moment and pulled her off her feet. Isabelle landed on the hardened earth with a thud. Taking advantage of the slack, the headstrong colt took off at speed.

Suddenly the woman was skidding across the dirt, desperately trying to untangle herself from the rope. She fought free and rolled to a stop, looking up in anxious concern for the bolting horse. For a moment it looked as if it would head for the entrance to the street but it veered toward the opening behind the stable. Paiku stood in the middle, blocking its path. Without slowing its pace the horse veered to squeeze between him and the stall. As the horse banged heavily against the rails, the top bar bowed and snapped under the pressure. The jagged end impaled itself in the withers of the now panicked horse. The nimble Polynesian grabbed the lead-rope and held the horse’s head down. Isabelle had scrambled to her feet and limped over to add her weight to Paiku’s. Together they got the horse under control. As Paiku tied the horse to a post, Isabelle removed shards of wood from its shoulder and examined the torn flesh. Blood streamed from the gash. The horse shivered in pain and terror then sidestepped into her her, knocking her off balance and smearing blood on her clothes.

“Better get the vet.” She gave the crisp order, frustration in her voice. “We could stitch this up but it looks like there are some slivers still in the wound. It could get infected.”

“Hello? Miss Reed?” the inquiring voice belonged to Angus Gunn, entering the livery from the street. “Good lord!” He had seen the breakage and the blood.

Great , muttered Isabelle beneath her breath. This was not the impression she had hoped to make, bruised and covered in dust and blood from the horse this gentleman intended to purchase. She started to brush herself off only to add further smears of blood to her already alarming appearance. The stable owner settled for simply wiping her gory hands on the seat of her pants before she emerged from her position hidden behind the colt.

”Mr Gunn, as you can see there’s been an unfortunate accident.” She extended a hand as she strode toward him, but thought better of it as she took in his brushed coat and polished boots.

“Miss Reed, my God … have you been injured? Should I send for a physician?”

“No, this blood, I’m sorry to say, is from one of the horses I had intended to sell you. It broke away as we were getting them ready for you.” The businessman followed her gesture.

“Not the chestnut? The one I bought for Donald?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m not sure that particular horse is cut out to be a mount for a youngster. I’m quite open to offer a substitute – I have a couple of fine geldings, even-tempered –“

“Forget it. I will find a spirited horse at some other stable, I’m sure, one where horses are treated humanely and conditions are safer. Let us complete the deal for the mares –I’ve committed to that, I suppose.”

Within ten minutes the paperwork was completed and Mr. Gunn led away the string of mares. Isabelle stood for a moment watching him leave, glumly sure that she would never have any further business with him in the future. By then, Paiku had returned with the veterinarian, Montserrat, who was examining the injured horse. She walked toward them, sharply aware of her strained shoulder and bruised hip and knees. There was a raw patch on her left hand where the rope had bitten into it when the horse had bolted. The veterinarian looked up as she approached.

“Horse’s got a nasty gash. I’ll have to give it a shot for tetanus. It is going to take a while to heal; it will need many stitches.”

“Thanks, Jean-Marc, leave your bill with Paiku. And, I’d like to make arrangements to have that horse gelded as soon as possible. I don’t intend to give him another chance to destroy my stable, drive away my customers or put Paiku or me in the hospital.”

Smouldering anger gave her the strength to mount the stairs to her rooms without a visible limp, but as she stripped off her ruined shirt and stained jodhpurs, she got a better view of her scrapes and bruises. A quick sponge bath washed away the worst of the grime and she eased herself into a frock that showed off her figure admirably. Though there were many disadvantages to being a woman in business in the South Seas, she was not unaware of the occasional advantages. Since her first task was to talk business with her reluctant partner, she thought it best if he were aware of those advantages. A glance at the clock told her that she’d barely have time to keep her appointment with Grief. She hoped he was at his regular table at Lavinia’s. If she was late, she might find that the distracted captain had drifted away to a poker game.

David Grief had not yet recovered from his ill-considered choice to champion Jenny Duvall who turned out to be a liar, a thief and a murderer. It was bad enough that he had alienated his friends and associates in Matavai who remained hurt and angry. Worse yet was the effect on David himself. Since her death he brooded and kept to himself. It was so unlike the popular, fun-loving captain. Even with Isabelle, his only confidante nowadays, he was usually self-critical and gloomy. Sometimes she tried to encourage him to talk to old friends like Mauriri, but after his first overtures had been rebuffed, Grief had refused to approach his old partner again. The rift between him and Mauriri had had a doubly bad result for Isabelle; not only was David not himself, but the partnership she intended to buy into was now short one vital person.

Mauriri was a good fellow who, though initially suspicious, had eventually accepted Isabelle’s presence in the trading world. More than that he was a unique resource in the South Seas, a man respected by both the Islanders and the Europeans, familiar with the languages and customs of much of Polynesia, a competent seaman and helmsman, a hard worker and, somehow, part of David’s own strength and confidence. That part of her planning had not worked out well at all. No Mauriri, a troubled captain and her investment was looking shakier every day.

It had been a spontaneous gesture to help David out. She had the bad habit sometimes of acting on her impulses. But he had seemed so confused, so dejected and she had felt so guilty for killing Jenny, and so sorry for this lost man who had always had a piece of her heart. The more she thought of it though, the better the idea had sounded. It would be a good way to learn the business of trading. To get a piece of The Rattler for the price of a few payments on the boat seemed like an excellent deal. Unfortunately, it had drastically drained her resources. She desperately needed both the schooner and the livery to make a profit right now. Vet bills and the lost sale of the colt, not to mention the loss of a return customer, had eaten up the profit she’d hoped to realize this morning. A successful contract bid this afternoon was vital to covering the month’s payments on the boat and the livery.

Isabelle stepped up the wooden stair and entered Lavinia’s bar. Several traders and sailors were avoiding the heat of the day with a quiet drink in the shade, the breeze off the ocean drying their sweat-soaked clothing. A glance around the room failed to pick out David at the bar or at a table alone. Her eye was drawn to the poker table where she could see David hunched over his cards, his elbows planted on the table in a belligerent stance. He aimed a fierce glare at a young man who was fidgeting with his cash, apparently about to make a bet.

This was another change in David, Isabelle mused. Before he had played cards like it was merely an exciting contest. He lost, and often won; the cash seemed merely to be a prize. It was the competition that he loved, the clash of mind and will. If the cards cooperated it was a competition he usually won. But ever since he had borrowed from the business to help out Jenny, he had played cards with an intensity and desperate need that made him an easy mark to the card sharps in the game. He played with little finesse and followed bad luck with bad bets. There was some old proverb that said “Fortune is like a woman. The harder you woo her, the further she goes away.” That was how the cards were treating Grief, just one more slap in his face.

Isabelle moved into the captain’s view. He looked once more at his cards then threw them in with a savage gesture. He rose to a stand and with an ironic smirk said, “Well, that’s it for me boys. I’ve got a business meeting.” He managed to convey a tone that was insulting to both himself and to her; Isabelle quelled the sharp stab of indignation that the remark engendered. By this time Grief had picked his small pile of bills off the table and was standing at the bar ordering drinks from Lavinia. He plunked the glasses down on a nearby table and slouched into his seat.

“Well, partner, what do you have planned for me and The Rattler today?” Isabelle smarted at his sarcastic tone.

“Actually, David, I’ve got a lead on a contract. I’m meeting with Abner Hollings from the Hong Kong Shipping Company and I need to know how low I can bid and still cover our expenses. There could be lots more business if we make a good impression.”

“That skin-flint? He’s never happy with a trading ship. He always has some complaint. I didn’t realize he’d signed on with Hong Kong Shipping.”

“Well, that’s who I’m dealing with. Copra from the Cook Islands to Shanghai. It’s just one run but it could turn out to be more. The captain who had the contract lost his ship in a typhoon last week. Who knows if he can replace it?”

“That’s Gunnar Helgason’s schooner. It might be a while. I heard he didn’t have enough insurance.” Grief paused to consider her question more seriously. “It’s a long run to Shanghai. Do they have people to load and unload? That’ll be a cost if it’s up to us. Two crew to sail her. That’s it, I guess. The Rattler’s in good shape. I’ve had a lot of time to work on her.” David’s voice had a note of bitterness.

“So let’s say two crewmen for thirty-two days…” Isabelle began to figure under her breath.

“Don’t forget provisions. We’ll need to stop twice for fresh water,” offered Grief as his glance crept back to the poker game.

“What have I left out?” she asked the slouched captain, his head turned away. “David.” Her voice took a sharper note as she realized that she’d lost his attention. His head swivelled back toward her. “I need your help. Remember we’re partners.”

“I told you when you bought in that a partnership is a delicate thing. And it’s not you telling me what to do. If it was Mauriri, I wouldn’t even need to have this conversation.” He straightened in his chair and threw her a defiant stare.

“I’m not Mauriri. I’m the one who…” Isabelle bit off her words a little too late.

“Yeah, you’re the one who bailed me out when everyone else, including my best friend, turned their back on me.” A note of self-pity flooded his tone. “So, fine Isabelle, I get your point. What else do you need to know?”

“Other expenses, things I don’t know about. Your ledgers are a little hard to follow.”

“Mauriri and I didn’t need accounts and ledgers to run our business. We used our knowledge and our good name to – oh hell, forget it. Ah, let’s see, we need some supplies from the chemist’s, some line, planking for the hold - we’ve got a little rot in there.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is bare bones here. I’m not looking to refit the entire ship. David, don’t you understand? If we don’t get some contracts, we could still lose The Rattler to the bank.” She leaned forward, instinctively placing her hand on his arm to break though the diffidence to the man within.

Grief pulled his arm away from the contact. “Yes, I understand. I’ll lose my boat and you’ll be broke. I should have told you not to get involved. I didn’t want to pull you down too. So Isabelle, go and get the contract - if you can. I’ll be here playing cards with my friends.” The sarcasm directed at her and at himself left his partner torn. Part of her wanted to shake him till his teeth rattled and he realized what a fool he was being. But part of her wanted to hold him in her arms and console him while he spilled out the depths of his misery. As if that would happen!

Instead she responded in a level voice. “I will get the contract, David. And we will fill it. You will get back on your feet again and play cards with your friends again. Don’t give up on yourself or your partner. I’ll talk to you later, after the meeting. The Rattler may have to be ready to sail on short notice. You might want to check her out this afternoon instead of playing cards.” Isabelle stood to leave. Grief shrugged and remained sprawled in his seat until she left the bar. He nodded toward the bar and ordered another drink.

Isabelle walked across the road to the telegraph office. She had hoped she wouldn’t need to go there, but her conversation with David had led to the realization that their expenses would be as high as the value of the present contract. She’d hoped to go lower. If only she could convince Mauriri to come along. He was still a partner in the business though he refused to talk to David or her about it. If he was there, that would save them the cost of a crew member and they could plough the profits back into the ship. Without Mauriri she would be forced to bid the contract at a loss.

A few days ago she had cabled her banker to see if she could take out yet another loan against the value of her livery business. She expected the reply today. Now it was imperative that the response be in the affirmative. She needed the loan, she needed Mauriri to rejoin his partner, she needed the contract and she needed David to be himself again. As she walked along the boardwalk to the telegraph office, she had the same doubts she’d once raised with David. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a South Seas trader. At the time the captain had assured her that her street-fighting skills would hold her in good stead. Now she wished that a simple punch in the jaw would solve her problems.

A question to the telegraph operator drew a headshake. She was due for her meeting with Hollings. If this were a poker game, she had nothing in her hand. She’d just have to bluff it through and hope that she’d draw something later. Maybe Mauriri would come through or the bank would see its way to extending her credit. She’d just have to get the contract and hope for the best. She caught a glimpse of her grim face in a shop window, smoothed her curls and, with a confident smile, entered the office of the Hong Kong Trading Company.

Behind a desk in the front office sat a young man, lining up a flimsy in the typewriting machine. He consulted his notes and filled in a blank contract. Isabelle Reed hoped that tomorrow the clerk would be completing a contract with the name of The Rattler on it. She was enjoying that pleasant thought when the man looked up and acknowledged her presence.

“Miss Reed?” he asked. She nodded.

“Mr. Hollings is just in the next office,” he gestured to a door with a frosted glass insert. “He’s expecting you.”

She walked to the door, tapped and entered.

“Mr. Hollings? Isabelle Reed.” The man rose as she stepped toward his desk, her hand extended. The grey-haired man was dressed in business attire, more suitable to a winter day in London than the tropical heat of Matavai. The stern lines of his face and the steely glitter in his eyes evidenced a hard-headed businessman who seemed little impressed with her attractiveness. Isabelle sighed in realization that her poker hand was even worse than she’d thought. Her bluff would just have to be that much better.

He took her hand and gestured for her to take the cane chair opposite the large oak desk. As she sat he reclined into his leather chair and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers intertwined.

“I was surprised when Kent told me you wanted to see me about the Shanghai contract. I’ve already had a couple of schooner captains eager to replace Helgason. I can’t imagine why you think we’d consider Grief and The Rattler. That man’s a loose cannon.”

“Now, Mr. Hollings, you haven’t heard our bid yet. As you well know, Captain Grief is the finest helmsman in Matavai. He consistently gets his cargo to port days earlier than other boats. That kind of turnaround can increase your profits. And I know that profit is as important to you as it is to me.”

The brief silence that followed her pitch was an encouraging sign that her words had hit home.

“What is your bid, Miss Reed?”

Isabelle had run the numbers through her head incessantly since her meeting with Grief. The only way to undercut the opposition was to shave costs. The only way to do that was to eliminate one of the paid crew. She would have to gamble that, if she told Mauriri how much she and David needed his help, he would pitch in and crew for the run to Shanghai. It was her only option.

So she mentioned a cost that made Abner Hollings eyes gleam. The bluff was working. Discussion ensued and she even managed to get a provision that included a bonus if the cargo was delivered early. They were unlikely to get it, but if the winds favoured them, Captain Grief might just earn them some much-needed capital. Isabelle rose and sealed the deal with a handshake. Tomorrow it would be her contract that the clerk would be typing and she would return to sign it. Her bluff had been successful. All she needed now was to draw some good cards. She needed to talk to Mauriri.

Mauriri sat on a chair on his porch. Isabelle sat opposite him, her attire feeling overly dressy as Mauriri’s children tumbled around them. A somewhat gnawed length of sugar cane in Tevaki’s grubby fingers made Isabelle uneasy that she might have another garment to clean this evening. The hulking islander turned to her with a frown and a sigh.

“No, Isabelle, I won’t do it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Our family has been too long without any real income so I signed on to crew for Captain Hunt on a run to Tonga.”

“But, Mauriri, the partnership needs this contract; David needs this contract. You’re still part of this; it’s your money too.”

Mauriri’s silence was ominous but it was his words that sunk Isabelle’s faint hopes. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you and David about the partnership. Leani and I – well, we’ve been thinking about our future. Whatever money we can get out of The Rattler, I need that money so I can look at maybe buying a share of another boat. I don’t intend to work for other people all my life. David’s stubbornness and blind faith in Jenny caused me to lose most of my money. I – I don’t owe him anything. I’m sorry that this is going to affect you too, Isabelle. It’s nothing personal, but I’ve got to get on with my life.”

“But Mauriri, we – I can’t afford to pay out your share of The Rattler. We’d have to sell her. You know what that would do to David.”

“I know, Isabelle. But maybe it’s for the best. David’s just been moping around ever since that – that woman died. I think it’s better if he gets out of here and makes a fresh start. Maybe he can go home; he’s got family in Australia.”

“That’s not what he needs and you know it. He needs to keep The Rattler and rebuild his life right here. You’re his friend, Mo. That shouldn’t just disappear because he made a mistake. People fall in love.”

“That wasn’t all there was to that. Something else was driving him. I don’t know what it was but I do know I can’t trust David anymore. And trust means something to me. Without it, all I want is my money back, whatever I can get, and to forget we were ever friends. Because, Isabelle, whenever I think about what he did to me and my family, I just want to … Ah, Isabelle, just forget it. I’m sorry that I can’t help you, but I just can’t.”

“Mauriri, listen to me. We’re going to keep The Rattler going, David and I. And we will get your money back. It’ll just take some time. I need you to be patient. If we get the bonus, there will be a decent cut for you in a few weeks. It should help tide you over. Please, if not for David, do it for me.”

Even through her own distress she could see the compassion in the islander’s eyes. He cast a glance into his house where Leani was preparing the meal, her daughter at her side. He nodded.

“I’ll tell Leani. We can wait for a little while. This is bad news for you, I understand that. I wish you all the best with this contract, Isabelle.”

“So, do you think you could sail with David on this run?” Her desperation drove Isabelle to make a final plea.

Mauriri grinned a little at this, but there was a look of pain behind it. “You never give up, do you? But no, I’m committed to Hunt. And I don’t think I could sail with David, not now.”

The dark-haired woman rose to leave. “Not now, but maybe later. Thank you, Mo, for giving us a chance. You won’t be sorry, you’ll see.”

With smiles and a wave to Leani, Isabelle left his sea-side home and walked back toward the village. Her satisfaction on having avoided the disaster of Mauriri taking out his share was lost to the realization there was no money to pay a crewman they would now require. She could only hope that her bank would wire her positive news. Isabelle made her way back to the telegraph office.

Minutes later the livery owner walked out of the telegraph office, a crumpled cable in her fist. More bad news. The bank not only refused to extend credit but also, in the terse code of telegraphic communication, had warned her about the present overextension of her credit. She walked along the boardwalk, the weight of her troubles slowing her steps.

Just outside of the office of the Matavai Messenger, she almost ran into Claire Devon who stepped in front of her.

“Oh sorry, Claire, I didn’t see you.” She took in her friend’s appearance, clad in boots and a divided skirt. “Oh no. I missed your riding lesson. I’m sorry; I completely forgot. I’ve been so busy today.”

Claire’s look of annoyance faded as she recognized Isabelle’s obvious distress.

“And this after you harassed me unmercifully when I was a few minutes late for my lesson last month.” A look at her friend’s face caused her to abruptly change her tone. Isabelle, normally so willing to exchange repartee, seemed to be on the verge of tears. “But never mind, the walk was healthful and got me away from my office for a while. Is something wrong? You look upset.”

“It’s nothing, just business worries.” The dark-haired woman’s manner clashed with her matter-of-fact words. Impulsively Claire tucked her arm under Isabelle’s elbow and led her into the newspaper office.

“I’ll fix us a cup of tea. You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, Claire, that would be lovely. I don’t have much time, though.”

As the kettle boiled, Claire readied the tray while Isabelle fidgeted in her seat. She would have to see Grief and tell him about their contract and her bluff that had gone bad. Maybe he’d have some solution. More likely, he’d mock her for her mistake. She wasn’t looking forward to their meeting.

The Englishwoman approached and set the tea tray on the table between them.

“So what has happened, Isabelle? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“It’s just been a frightful day, I’m afraid. A horse I had sold broke free and injured itself. I lost that sale and the buyer as well, most likely. Then, I got The Rattler a contract, but we’re going to lose money on it and we can’t afford to do that and then Mauriri said he wanted out of the partnership and…” Isabelle stopped the words that were tumbling out before they betrayed her into tears. She chewed on her lip briefly then threw back her shoulders and finished. “Like I said, a bad day.”

Impulsively the warm-hearted girl reached across and gave the worried woman’s hand a squeeze. “Oh, Isabelle, how horrible! I can see why you’re so upset. All the work you’ve put in to create a life for yourself out here. You must be frantic.”

Her friend’s sympathetic words triggered a wave of emotion in Isabelle –fear, anger and self-doubt. “You’re right about that. I could lose it all, not only for me, but for David as well. I knew I wasn’t cut out for this.” She brushed at her tear-filled eyes.

Claire rose and came behind her, encircling her shoulders in a brief hug. “Isabelle, I’ve never seen you cry and I don’t intend to have you start now,” She moved in front of Isabelle and held her hands in her own.

“You know very well that you are cut out for this. You have built yourself up from nothing to becoming a successful businesswoman in Matavai. When I wanted advice from someone who had made a good life in the South Seas, you were the person I came to. You came into this town as a convicted felon, a woman with a dubious background and still, with your business sense, your hard work and your honesty you have gained the respect and trust of the people in Matavai.”

Isabelle drew herself a little straighter. “True.” She said and a little laugh relaxed both women. “You’re very kind, but I just can’t think of a way out of this one.”

Claire gave her hands a squeeze before standing up and returning to her chair. “You will. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Look how much you’ve learned about the trading business and even sailing a schooner in the short time you’ve known David and Mauriri. Sleep on it tonight, you’ll think of something.”

“I don’t have that long. I’ve got to talk to David this evening. I may have to back out of the contract and it’s due to be signed tomorrow morning. I can’t even imagine what that would do to our reputation. I’m going to have to think quickly – while I’m on the way to Lavinia’s. I only hope David will be there and in fit shape to talk business.”

“Well, I’ll be rooting for you. Now get going and show Matavai and Captain Grief what you’re made of. I’ve got type to set this afternoon.” They met in a brief hug before Isabelle left the office.

Isabelle limped a little as she walked toward the bar where she hoped to find Captain Grief. All the walking she had done that day had caused her hip to stiffen and ache with every step. But even as her body’s aches and pains had set in, her mental state had improved. Claire’s words had given her heart and she mulled over the few options there were. All she could think of was that they could sail at a loss and drive the partnership deeper in debt or back out, lose the contract and further ruin their reputation. She scolded herself. Surely she could come up with something better than these dreadful alternatives. Claire had said she was smart. She’d learn the rudiments of sailing in just a couple of months and she understood more about trade winds, cargo and expenses than she had ever imagined possible a short time ago. She should be able to solve this problem. A tiny glimmer of an idea entered her head and started to grow. It might just work. Grief was sure to say no, but unless he had a better idea, it might be their only hope.

It was nearing dinnertime and a crowd had collected at Lavinia’s. It was filled with both sailors and townspeople enjoying the hospitality of its excellent kitchen and well-stocked bar. Isabelle gathered her courage and sought out David. She saw him sitting at the bar nursing a drink. She could only hope that he hadn’t been there all afternoon. She sat on the seat beside him and caught Lavinia’s eye. When she had a whiskey in her hand, she turned her attention to Grief.

“So, Captain, is The Rattler ready to sail in two days?”

“Checking up on me, are you? Don’t tell me you managed to convince that old skin-flint to give you the contract. What did you have to promise him – free use of a horse for his stay in Matavai?

“No, I bid the contract on its merits. I even have a bonus inserted if you manage to complete the trip in four weeks or less.”

Grief snorted in disgust. “That will be a difficult bonus to get. If the rains start, the winds will be against us. Don’t plan on spending that money yet, partner.”

“Still, the winds could hold. And I’d bet on you. If anyone could sail the run that quickly, it would be you.”

Grief shrugged at the compliment. “How low did you have to bid?”

Isabelle tensed herself for the explosion as she told the captain her bid. His glass of beer slammed to the counter as he turned to her, spluttering.

“That’s too low. That’ll only pay for one crewman. Or do you expect us to sail without any provisions instead?”

“I know it’s low. I’d hoped to convince Mauriri to come along.”

“You did what? Who said you could ask him? We never even discussed it, Isabelle.” Then his voice lowered, the anger gone replaced by a tentative hope. “What did he say?”

“He can’t do it. He’s signed on with Captain Hunt.” She turned her glance away to avoid seeing the open hurt on the man’s face.

“I guess that means you’ll be telling old Hollings we can’t make it, then.”

“I had an idea. It would solve our problem.” She hesitated as he looked at her sceptically. “I could be the second crewmember.” She spoke more quickly as she saw his look of stunned disbelief. “I’m pretty good at the helm. I can work the sails. The company has longshoreman in Shanghai so we don’t have to unload the cargo. You’ve taught me a lot, David. I can do this.”

“You!” The captain was incensed. “You can’t pull your weight as a crew member. You’d be worse than useless. You almost sunk The Rattler a few months ago.” Grief harked back to the time when they had to abandon his schooner after she ran aground on a reef.

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Isabelle felt her temper rising. “I got that sail down as fast as anyone could. It wasn’t my fault Mo got hurt and we know whose fault it was that we ran aground. You know I’m a good sailor. Why must you be so – so stupid?”

“Stupid? Who’s the one who made a contract we couldn’t afford?”

“We can make the contract if I sail with you. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t want you out there, Isabelle, and I’ll never get another crewman if you were on board.”

“Why not?”

“For one, you’re a woman. No sailor will sail with a woman; it’s bad luck.”

“Nonsense!” Isabelle’s rage had her almost speechless, her fists bunched at her side. Without really noticing when, the two of them were now standing nose to nose, Isabelle’s face tipped up to that of the taller captain. Their fierce glares were matched in intensity. Bar patrons nearby paused in their drinking to take in the argument.

“Go home to your stable, Isabelle, and leave the trading business to me.” Grief growled.

Suddenly, his head snapped back and he staggered into the bar behind him. She hit me, he realized, holding his jaw in surprise.

My god, I hit him. Isabelle gasped in astonishment. Her right hand throbbed from the contact. She was taken aback that she had lost control. But the man was so infuriating! She had shown him that she was capable so many times – in business, at sea, in a fight. What more did she need to do to prove herself? If he said something right now about her being a dishonest woman, she vowed she would hit him again.

Grief stood rubbing his jaw, his look of shock dissolving into a low chuckle. “You really do have a great right hook. Didn’t I tell you it would come in very handy in the trading world? Though I never thought of it as a way of persuading your partner to see things your way.”

“I – I’m sorry that I hit you. But you deserved it.”

“I suppose I did.” A devilish smile crossed the sea captain’s face.

Isabelle felt the breath catch in her throat as she saw the grin. It had been a long time, too long, since his visage had been full of honest amusement. All the anger drained out of her and that aching longing that she always felt for him rose in its place. She had set her sights on Grief a long time ago, but the captain’s other relationships always – or rather mostly - kept them apart. Isabelle had been patient at first and then resigned to defeat. It seemed that any partnership they might have would be an adventurous or a business-like one. But her shrewd head could never convince her wild heart to give up on its passion. Even now she longed to reach out, wrap her hands behind his head and kiss his bruised lip to make it better. Though the kiss she felt like giving him might not be all that soothing. She blushed at the impulse and at the irony that it was her fist that had caused the injury she ached to cure.

The sea captain’s smile faded a little as he tried to puzzle out the peculiar look on his partner’s face. “I don’t know that you’ve got what it takes to be a deckhand but I guess we’ll find out. It’s not like we have any other choice.”

“You’ve made a good decision, David. You’ll see.”

“So when did you say we leave?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll get the provisions tomorrow. You doing the cooking?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Then I’ll hire Tah-mey. He’s a great crewman but a lousy cook. I guess I’d better get back to The Rattler. I need to do some work on her. Night, partner.”

“Goodnight, David.” She smiled at the tall handsome captain who was still wearing a bemused grin. He shook his head as he left the bar. She heard him mutter on the way out.

“I can’t believe she hit me.”

Lavinia came alongside to ask Isabelle if she’d like another drink. The staggering list of details that she would need to take care of in order to leave Matavai and the livery stable for a month dizzied Isabelle’s brain. She turned down the drink and headed for home.

During the walk the female trader made some tentative plans. It wasn’t until she reached the stable that it finally dawned on her what she had accomplished that day. They had the contract and, if all went well, there was a glimmer of hope that they could salvage the business and David’s reputation. And David had smiled for the first time in weeks. Of course, chances were that things would not go so well. The weather could be against them and who knew if she had the makings of a sailor. She and David could be at each other’s throats the entire voyage. In time they might have to sell the boat to pay their debts. But for today, her efforts had been enough.

She went through the stable to the paddock behind. She saw that Paiku had removed the broken rail from the end stall but it had not yet been replaced. She sighed to think of how far behind the livery business would be when she came back after a couple of months away.

The weary woman leaned up against the rail of the paddock, her eyes adjusting to the dark well enough to see the mares dozing on their feet, the sleeping foals dark lumps on the ground beside them. The night air was warm and fragrant with night-blooming flowers. This was a beautiful island, she thought. It wasn’t that long ago she had walked out of the courtroom a free and penniless woman. When offered the choice, she had opted for Tahiti. She had stayed because she liked it here and that had not changed. This was what she had chosen and she would do everything she could to make a good life here.

Isabelle could feel every bruise tonight. Her hip ached. She examined the swollen knuckles on her right hand and the angry weal on her left. The trading life had taken a bite out of her today, led her to the precipice and let her see the abyss beyond. She was thankful that she had survived. She was still not sure that she was cut out for the trading business, but she would take it day by day. Isabelle yawned and turned back to the stable. In the dark she mounted the stairs to her apartment. She would sleep well tonight.

The End