Father Returns
Leah Rigley ran as fast as she could down the narrow cobblestone streets, past the market square and on towards the large wharf. The fog that was so common this time of year in Falmouth, England, was beginning to lift with the early morning sunshine. Holding her cape tightly to protect her from the chill, she raced as her long curls flowed behind.
Stopping briefly at the top of a knoll, Leah watched the fog magically rise, revealing three tall ships, square riggers, recently anchored in the harbor, their dark masts silhouetted against the white mist. Breathless, she smiled, relieved that they had all returned safely.
As Leah hurried onto the pier, she glanced at Peter, a cabin boy, who sprinted past her. He carried his sea bag over his shoulder, his face darkly tanned and his small frame seeming too muscular for one so young, like he was a miniature man.
She turned toward the one ship that was approaching to dock at the wharf. It was the Thankful, one of her father’s ships, but she knew he wasn’t aboard this one. She looked beyond its bow to the two ships still anchored. He resided on the Charity, the largest of the three square riggers. A shallop was approaching with several men aboard, her father standing in the bow. A tear fell down her cheek. She had been so worried when they didn’t return in the fall as planned, and now she had to greet her father with such sad news.
Captain Rigley was a large, barrel-shaped man. He stepped out of the small boat when it reached the dock, secured the bow as another tied off the stern, and then turned to his daughter, his dark blue eyes sparkling. He picked her up by her elbows, holding her close.
“Father!” she exclaimed. To Leah, Captain Rigley was the strongest and most handsome man in the world.
“How’s my girl?” He rubbed his beard lovingly on her face.
“That tickles,” she giggled over the lump in her throat, squirming. She was getting too old for such play but enjoyed it immensely at this moment.
He stood back. “Where’s your mother?” He glanced around and then back to Leah. “You didn’t come down here alone? This is no place for a young girl.” His thick eyebrows lowered as he scowled at her. Then the sparkle in his eyes dulled as he studied her face and realized something was wrong.
Leah hugged him, choking on a sob, and whispered, “She died.”
He held her tightly without a word for a long moment. Then he took her by the shoulders, scrutinizing her eyes to see for sure that her words were true. Frowning, he asked, “What happened, Leah?”
Tears flooded her eyes and overflowed in a rush down her face, landing in big drops on the old wooden wharf. She swallowed and barely managed to speak aloud the awful words. “A month ago, it was very cold. There was an illness. Eighteen people in the village died.”
She paused and sniffed, looking directly into her father's eyes, her lips quivering. “I was afraid you weren’t coming home.”
He hugged her again for a very long time as they stood in silence. Then, standing straight, his voice hoarse, he gave charge to a waiting mate concerning the ships’ business. Finally, he took Leah’s hand as the two silently and slowly retraced her steps, off the wharf, up the knoll, and past the village to the house on the hill.