Servant and Ship's Boy

By Microsuede Mouse

I was in a rush to get back to the Manor – it was very cold outside – and I had my head bent against the wind, so at first I didn't see him. Actually, I didn't see him at all, until I walked straight into him and nearly knocked both of us over. He regained his balance immediately and quickly caught my arm to keep me up. I glanced up to find out who he was, blushing at my own clumsiness, and was shocked to see the face in front of me.

"P- Peter? Peter- Peter Riffenton?" I stammered.

He peered at me. "I'm sorry, I- Roxelana?"

I nodded, still too amazed to say anything more.

"It's been so long! Seven years!"

"Yes... back when we were still only eight years old, and you were just the annoying boy from the next farm over." I smiled at the memory. "What brings you here to Labrador?"

"I got a job as a ship's boy. I work on the Soaring Mariner. What do you do here?"

"My mother, father, sister and I work in the Manor on the hill." I pointed to the huge house. "The Lord and Lady are good to us. I came out to fetch bread from the mill, for the kitchens. I... I should probably head back now." I was somewhat reluctant to break up this meeting. Aside from my family, I hadn't seen anyone from my past since we came to Canada, and to see Peter again was very... Comforting. He had been one of my only playmates back then, and I... I admit, he has grown into a very handsome young man. His sandy-brown hair that needed a cut quite badly, hanging in front of his bright blue eyes; his tall and sturdy but not too bulky form-

"Roxelana?" Peter retrieved me from my thoughts.

"Oh, I, um, sorry," I blushed heavily. "They... they need all the help they can get at the house. The Lord and Lady are expecting some important guests from Europe tomorrow, everything must be perfect."

"Well, I need to go too. Jobs to be taken care of. But it was very good to say you, I hope to meet again." He grinned and gave a mocking bow before passing me. I kept walking, hoping the same.

"Oh, and Roxelana?" I stopped and turned to look at him again.

"You grew your hair out. I always told you it would look prettier long."

"I- Thank you," I blushed again, stroking a strand of the onyx hair that everyone complimented.

The next day, everyone was rushing around, making final adjustments and last touches. The guests would be expected for lunch, would talk business for the afternoon, stay for supper and the dance, and then be off. My mother and sister were very busy in the kitchen – my sister is just a kitchen maid but my mother is the head cook. My father, the butler, had to practice his greetings all day long so that he could flawlessly open the doors and guide the guests to the drawing room. But I had been pulled aside to help the Lord's daughter, Rosalie.

Rosalie is the same age as me, and I am her favourite servant. We're very good friends. It may sound odd, but this family is very good to all of their servants.

"Do you know who the guests are?" she asked me as I brushed out her long blonde hair. Rosalie is always very curious. "They won't tell me anything, they don't have the time."

"I'm sorry, Rosalie, I don't know a thing."

"All I've been able to find out is that they're from a ship called the Soaring Mariner."

I nearly dropped the hairbrush. "R- really?"

She looked at me, clearly baffled. "Yes, why?"

I blushed a little bit. "I- I saw an old friend yesterday, in the village. He said he was here because he got a ship's boy job on that ship."

"You're blushing," she giggled. "Are you sure he's just a friend?"

I playfully hit her on the head with the hairbrush. "Yes," I said, but my voice faltered and I knew she'd caught me. "Well... that's all he ever used to be..."

"Roxelana's i-in lo-ove," Rosie teased me.

"Well, at least now I know how you feel every time you look at the butcher's boy." I told her.

She laughed, then grinned mischievously. "Maybe I should tell your sister."

"Oh, Rosalie, please, no," I groaned. My sister's a good girl, but at the age of eleven, she can't keep her mouth shut. The entire house would know in the space of thirty minutes.

"Oh, you know I wouldn't do that to you." she told me with a laugh. She looked at me in the big vanity mirror. "I'll bet he thinks you're pretty,"

I blushed again – something that seemed to be happening increasingly often. "I- I mean- no," I stuttered, self-consciously stroking the hair that he'd said looked pretty.

Rosalie raised an eyebrow, but didn't say any more.

It was finally time for the guests to arrive. I knew Peter probably wouldn't have been allowed to come, but I couldn't help myself from sitting on the stairs to watch hopefully as my father opened the door. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Peter walk in next to the ship's captain and his mates. My father graciously guided them to the parlour to wait for lunch. As soon as they were out of sight, I rushed to the kitchen to continue my job.

"Mother," I said, when he was trying to cook only three things instead of the usual seven, "Do you remember the Riffentons?"

"Ahh... yes." She replied distractedly. "Why?"

"Because Peter's here. I saw him in the village yesterday. He got a job on the ship that the guests are from. And he came with them here, to the Manor."

"Really?" Mother seemed to perk a bit at the prospect of old friends. "Well, I'll be sure to say hello. I'll ask him how Mrs. Riffenton is, too, I haven't seen her in years."

"Hors d'oeuvres are ready!" Someone called across the kitchen.

"Why don't you take them out, Roxelana?" Mother suggested. "See if your father recognised Peter."

I nodded and made my way across the kitchen, picking up the platters. I pushed backwards through one of the three doors in the kitchen – this one was the door to the parlour, the others went to the dining room and the servant's dormitories – and carried the platter to the bar at one side of the room.

"Hors d'oeuvres are ready." I announced, and three of the ship's men were over right away. I suppose they don't get such nice food very often.

I walked up next to my father. He clearly hadn't noticed Peter yet. "Father," I asked him, "Does that ship's boy look at all familiar to you?"

"I haven't really looked at hi- for heaven's sake, is that young Peter Riffenton?"

"It is," I told him with a smile. "I met him in the village yesterday."

Father immediately walked over to shake his hand. "You've certainly grown, haven't you, Peter Riffenton?"

"Hello, Mr. Gallagher!" Peter greeted happily. He grinned. "Wondered how long it would take you to notice me."

"Wouldn't have, if my lovely daughter hadn't pointed you out." He said. He nodded towards me, still standing behind him where I'd been when I'd been talking to father.

"And lovely she certainly is," He agreed with a smile. I blushed again.

"Now, how is your dear old man?" My father continued as I went back into the kitchen.

My mother glanced at me. "Is my husband too old to remember a face?" she asked me with a smile.

"Well, he doesn't until you ask him to."

My mother laughed.

At supper, Peter surprised me by declining a seat offered to him at the grand table and coming to eat with me in the servants' hall, right next to the dining room.

He sat down next to me on the bench and put down his plate. Looking up at the table laden with good food, he said, "They really do treat you well here. Which is good, because if they didn't, I'd have to take you away with me on the ship." He smiled widely and helped himself to some mashed potatoes. And I blushed again. "I would've eaten lunch with you, too, but the captain wanted me to stay in the parlour with him." he told me. He tried the turkey. "This is really good food," he said after swallowing. "Especially compared to that salted pork we eat every day on the ship."

"My mother would be happy to hear that," I said. "She's the head cook. Speaking of whom, I think she wanted to speak with you." I waved her over. "Mother!"

Seeing Peter, my mother hurried over. He stood and nodded politely, shaking her hand. "Mrs. Gallagher, good to see you."

"My, haven't you grown into a handsome and polite young man? I remember when you still called me Auntie Sarah. Oh, and in need of a haircut as always..." She brushed the hair out of his eyes. "How is your mother doing, dear?"

"She's good as ever, Mrs. Gallagher, still fit to run across the country." He grinned.

My mother laughed. "That's my Genevieve! Well, do say hello to her for me next time you go home."

"Of course."

"Well, it was lovely to see you, Peter, but I've got to go see to dessert now." She hurried away.

"Good to see you too. Your food is wonderful!" he called after her.

"Thank you, dear!" she called back. Peter sat back down.

"Your mother is a dear old soul, Roxelana."

"That she is." I agreed.

As per the Lord's tradition when he had guests for supper, there was a dance in the ballroom afterwards. It wasn't a terribly large ballroom, but it was big enough. And the Lady always let any of the servants who wanted to come, come. Usually I went to listen to the music, if nothing else. Tonight they were playing a Tchaikovsky record, one of my favourites.

Peter surprised me again, by asking me to dance with him at the beginning of Waltz of the Flowers. I blushed – again – but nodded and stood to dance with him.

"I never fancied you much of a dancer," I said to him as we swirled around.

"Neither did I." He admitted. "But mother made me take lessons."

I laughed. That was so like Mrs. Riffenton, to have Peter do that.

Peter and I stood awkwardly near the front door. "Thank you for the dance," He said again.

"You're... Welcome."

We stared at each other for a moment. Quite suddenly, he leaned toward me and kissed me, right on the mouth! I know my entire face was aflame. His lips were chapped and only brushed mine for a moment before he stood stiffly back up, but I admit that my heartbeat doubled. I immediately looked at the Lord and Lady bidding goodbye to the crew thirty feet away – no one was looking.

"I- I'm sorry." Peter stammered. "That was-"

I cut him off by standing on tiptoe and kissing him back. Again, it lasted only a moment but the sensation was indescribable.

"-uncalled for," he finished quietly, staring at me with wide eyes. I knew that what I had done was unexpected, I couldn't tell you why I did it myself. But I'm glad I did.

"Promise to write," I asked him. He smiled at me, the most incredible, adorable smile.

"Promise."

The ship's captain called. "Come on, Riffenton, we set sail in the morning." Peter looked up and nodded.

"Coming, sir!" He called, waving at me as he jogged to the door.

Next morning, the wind beat the windows and the rain harassed the roofs. The thunder rolled in the distance as servants ran about placing pots under leaks. I was asked to help serve breakfast, and I took a platter of French toast from the kitchens. As I walked into the dining room, I noticed a messenger talking to the Lord and the Lord's face turning grim. Rosalie tugged her father's sleeve.

"What is it, Daddy?"

He looked at her. "The Soaring Mariner's crashed on the reefs off the coast. They don't know how many will have survived." He told her.

There was a crash as the plate I held shattered against the floor. Rosalie looked up at me, realization in her eyes as I fled the room.

Rosalie found me in my bed, crying like a small child. "Roxelana, please. Listen to me for a moment. Daddy's going to help the search party. He says you can go along."

I looked up. "But... that would be very disrespectable..."

"Oh, please. Since when has my father ever cared about respectable? But all the same, you must hurry before he leaves."

I was in the front hall in no time, wrapped in sweaters and shawls and even Rosalie's coat. I followed the Lord down the hall to the docks, and boarded the small rescue boat with him. It was a small boat with a cabin, but I stayed out to help watch the water.

After two hours we had found no one, and I fell apart inside, having lost all hope. The captain approached the Lord, and quietly suggested we go back. The storm wasn't getting any better, and we had had no luck. I held back hot tears as the boat turned around, but something caught my eye out on the water.

"Wait!" I yelled, pointing at the blurry figure. "I think there's someone out there!" The Lord and several men rushed to the railing beside me.

"Praise the Lord, it's true!" One of them called hoarsely. "Starboard, cap'n!"

We drew closer to the body, and my heart leapt and sank again as they hauled him aboard. It was Peter, but he wasn't conscious. One of the crewmen checked his heart, and announced that he was still alive.

They laid him on the bed in the cabin, and the Lord asked me to watch him and alert them if anything important happened. I sat on the stool beside the cot and stroke his forehead quietly, thanking every God for his survival.

After a few minutes, he woke up and leaned over the edge of the bed, coughing up seawater. He looked up, grinning sheepishly, then realized who he was looking at.

"What're you doing here? And, where is here?"

"We're on a rescue boat. It's been nearly three hours since the crash. I wanted to come with the rescue team." I told him. But it didn't really say how happy I was that he was alive. Suddenly, I threw myself at him.

"Oomph!" was his first reaction, but he chuckled and hugged me.

"I thought I lost you, and I only just found you," I said. I squeezed him more tightly. This time I couldn't hold back the tears.

"Hey, don't cry! I'm here now!" He was half-laughing, but there was also concern in his voice. He held me close. "I'm here now," he repeated firmly, "And I'm not going away any time soon."

He hugged me until I felt better. "We should go tell them you're awake." I said quietly. He nodded and took my hand, and we walked out together.

We found most of the crew on a small island off the coast, several days after the crash. Most of them stay at the village inn and have jobs to pay for it, but Peter stays with us at the Manor. We have special plans for the future, and Rosalie promises to help us if we help her get together with the butcher's boy. But, those stories are for another day.