Forsaken Dreams (21 page)

Once the deck leveled, Blake took her arm, yanked her to her feet, and dragged her to the companionway. “Get below!” Rain streamed down his face. His hair hung in strands of ink.

“I can’t go back down there!” she shouted. “They want to toss me overboard.”

Grimacing, he untied the rope from around his waist and handed it to her. “Go to your cabin and tie yourself to something.”

“But you—”

“Now!” He thrust the rope into her hand and turned to leave.

Clinging to the railing, Eliza made her way below, unsure whether to be happy or sad that she was still among the living.

Grabbing another lifeline, Blake tied himself to the capstan. On the quarterdeck, Captain Barclay gripped the wheel beside the helmsman, their expressions strung tight as they strained to control the ship. Tension constricted the captain’s voice and lined his face, causing Blake’s terror to rise. If the hardened seaman was so worried, they must be in real danger.

Strands of hair stung Blake’s cheek. He jerked them back and dove into the wind, making his way to his post alongside Hayden, where Moses and a group of sailors battled lines attached to yards above.
Foolish, mad woman!
She’d almost gotten herself killed! He hadn’t noticed her until a flash of violet skirts tumbling over the deck caught his eye. He’d darted toward her as fast as the heaving ship would allow, but he was too late. She had gone over.

And his heart had gone overboard with her.

He’d thought he’d lost her. And in that brief moment, his life lost all meaning. His anger fled him, and he’d dashed to the railing. When he’d seen her dangling there barely able to breathe, wave after wave slamming her, terror had taken over all reason. And he knew he’d do anything to save her.

But he didn’t have time to ponder that now as a wall of water slammed into him, sweeping his feet out from beneath him and sending him careening over the deck. Gripping his rope, he shut his mouth against the torrent and hung on. The waters subsided. He struggled to rise. The captain brayed orders that were quickly stolen by the roar of the storm. Above him, sailors clung to yards and masts that swung back and forth like demonic pendulums. How much more could the brig take before it split in two? Sailors appeared from below, dragging trunks, crates, and barrels to the railing. Blake helped them hoist them over the side, knowing they were losing what was left of their food, their water, their tools, and other necessities for the new world, wondering how they would get by without them.

If they survived the storm.

Eliza didn’t like being told what to do. She would have rather stayed above with a lifeline tied around her than be tossed back and forth like a bale of hay in a wagon—a wagon that felt like it was tumbling over a cliff. But after Blake had so graciously offered his own rope, leaving himself in temporary peril, what else could she do? So she tied herself to the table in her cabin and curled into a ball on the deck, praying for God to save them. Now two hours later, the roar of the storm lessened, the crash of waves against the hull subsided, and the thunder retreated.

Either she had died and this was her own personal hell—being on board a ship full of people who hated her—or they had survived and were still afloat.

Untying herself, she crept from the cabin to emerge onto a sodden deck with equally sodden crewmen slouching in various positions of exhaustion—looking much like the remaining sails: drenched, torn, and tattered. Soon passengers popped above. With white faces and open mouths, they gazed around at the bare-masted ship. Though only hours before, some of them had demanded they toss Eliza overboard, now they paid her no mind.

Captain Barclay remained on the quarterdeck. Water dripped from his blue coat, which was angling off one shoulder. His hair, stiff with salt, stuck out in every direction, making him look like a drenched porcupine. A very angry porcupine. He growled orders, sending some men to assess damage and others below to assist with the pumps.

Were they taking on water?

Water dripped from yards and spars, plopping on the waterlogged deck. Electricity crackled in the air as a brisk breeze chilled Eliza. She hugged herself. Angeline and Sarah sped toward her, and together they surveyed the storm retreating on the horizon. Like a monster tucking its tail between its legs, it rumbled away, baring angry teeth of lightning as it went.

Blake, his shirt plastered to his chest, molding every muscle and sinew, gave her a cursory glance before he assisted the sailors in cleaning up the shards of wood and torn lines that littered the deck.

His disregard stung her, destroyed the hope that had sprung when he’d risked himself to save her. But that was the kind of man he was. A noble man who would risk his own life …

Even for an enemy.

After all were present and accounted for, the parson, at James’s urging, said a prayer of thanks for God’s rescue and that no lives had been lost. As all heads bowed, the
drip-drop
of water from the rigging above was the only reminder of the terror they had endured. Eliza said her own prayer of thanks. She didn’t know why God had saved her, but she had to admit she was glad to be alive.

The damage report of torn sails, a cracked mast, one split yard, and a hold full of water etched a deeper frown on Captain Barclay’s face, but his subsequent decision to set sail for one of the nearby islands seemed to encourage everyone after their near watery grave. There they could restock their food and water supplies and allow the crew a few days to make the necessary repairs.

The next day the
New Hope
hobbled into the bay of an island so lush and beautiful, Eliza wondered if they hadn’t found the paradise they were seeking. Emerald water caressed glistening ebony sand that led to a canvas of mossy forest in every possible shade of green. As they drifted closer to shore, the air filled with the melody of a myriad of birds chirping and singing their greeting.

The island of Dominica, the captain had announced, though how he could be sure of their location after the storm, Eliza had no idea. But he had his remaining charts and some instruments and the sky to guide him. Not to mention his vast experience on the sea.

After being confined to the tiny brig for three weeks, everyone declared the sight was more precious than gold. Well, everyone except for Mr. Dodd. And perhaps Mr. Graves, who seemed impervious to joy.

As Eliza made her way through the crowd to the railing for a better look, people scattered as if she had malaria. Spiteful glances and foul words shot her way, but she did her best to ignore them. Swallowing the emotion burning in her throat, she drew a deep breath of air filled with life and tropical flowers, while the captain issued orders for the crew to begin repairs.

“It should take no more than two days,” he shouted to the passengers. “Two days to stretch your legs upon the shores and replenish our water supply.”

This turned everyone around to face him, including Eliza. Her gaze immediately shifted to Blake standing beside the captain. No longer looking like a drowned rat from the storm or even a military man, he appeared more like a hardened sailor as he stood, boots spread apart, on the swaying deck, black hair in wild disarray, arms crossed over his chest, and necktie flapping in the wind. His eyes grazed over her for a second. A mere second in which she no longer saw hatred. Dare she hope?

“We need everyone’s help,” the captain continued, “to search for edible fruits, coconuts, and freshwater.”

“I know this island well.” Parson Bailey’s voice rose in excitement. “I was sent here as a missionary several years ago.” His beady eyes shifted over the crowd as if seeking approval. “I can find water and food. Just send me ashore with some men and barrels. I know where to look. There’s also a settlement across the island. Roseau, I believe. We can buy supplies there.”

“We must save our money to purchase land and tools in Brazil,” Blake said, his tone begging no argument.

The parson shrugged.

James nodded his agreement. “We’ll have to live off what we have left in the hold and whatever we can scavenge from the island for the remainder of the journey.”

Mr. Jenkins, one of the farmers, placed an arm around his wife and their young daughter and held them close. “But you tossed over my crate of farming implements.”

“And my trunk of pots and pans,” a rather robust lady declared.

“And my chest of gowns!” Magnolia sobbed from the edge of the crowd where she stood between her parents. Gazes shot her way, whispers hissing through the air. Ever since she’d made a besotted spectacle of herself, her parents had kept her close.

“What am I to do without them?” she continued to wail.

“Zooks, how will you survive with only
five
gowns?” Hayden chuckled, drawing her viper stare.

“I only have two left, if you must know.” She gave him a petulant look.

“You won’t have much need for them in Brazil.” Angeline wove through the crowd to stand beside Eliza.

Hayden’s and James’s gazes followed her as did most of the men’s, including Mr. Dodd’s.

The captain cleared his throat. “My apologies for bein’ forced to lighten the load, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“No apologies necessary, Captain.” Blake gave the man an approving nod. “We owe you our lives.”

One of the men jerked a thumb at Eliza. “I say we leave the Yankee on the island.”

Words of agreement rang from both passengers and crew. All except Angeline, James, and thankfully, Blake.

“Aye,” Max, the boatswain, added. “She can catch the next ship back to the States.”

“The parson said there’s a settlement on the other side of the island,” a woman offered.

The blacksmith stepped forward. “We can return her money, and she can purchase passage home.”

Their words twisted a cord around Eliza’s stomach until she worried the breakfast she’d consumed earlier would reappear.

More agreements zipped through the air. Angeline squeezed Eliza’s hand and tried to shout above the clamor, but it was James’s voice that stopped them. “We cannot leave a woman alone in the midst of untold dangers.”

“It’s more than she deserves.” Dodd gave her a malignant grin.

Moses, his sister, and her children clung to each other on the other side of the ship, their wide eyes blaring a concern for Eliza that their lips dared not voice.

Her gaze shot to Blake. She wondered if he would say anything. But he simply stood there, eyeing the mob and rubbing his chin. Finally, he spoke. “She stays with us. No matter what she’s done, we cannot abandon her to die.”

Eliza released a breath.

“Why not?” a sailor spoke up. “We should let God decide, shouldn’t we, Parson?”

Parson Bailey gripped his Bible and forced piety onto his face. ,“‘Vengeance is mine … sayeth the Lord.’”

“I say she’s bad luck!” one of the farmers shouted. “Ever since she came on board, we been attacked by a frigate, the first mate got injured, and now we been hit by a storm.”

Mr. Lewis teetered through the mob, swirling the scent of alcohol in his wake. “Ah, let her stay. She’s a good woman. We all need a fresh start.” Clipping his thumbs in his suspenders, his kind eyes met hers. She smiled in return, wondering if the drunken carpenter would be the only man to speak up for her.

“Leave her here!” the blacksmith yelled.

“But she’s our nurse!” Sarah spoke from the hatchway, where she emerged onto the deck. “We need her.” Her eyes locked with Eliza’s.

“James can handle things. He’s a doctor.”

Eliza’s harried gaze sped to Blake. As leader of the expedition, wasn’t the decision his? Surely, he would demand that she stay and order the mob to silence. Instead, he faced the captain and uttered the words that sealed her fate. “This is your ship and your decision.”

Her heart plummeted.

Captain Barclay scratched his salt-encrusted hair. “In truth, I ain’t so sure that she didn’t bring all this bad luck on us. Besides, her presence here only causes trouble. And I don’t need no more trouble, if you know what I mean.”

Blake studied the captain, a stunned look on his face as if that was the last thing he expected the man to say. “How can a woman traipse through the jungle alone to Roseau without getting mauled by some animal, attacked by natives, or dying from exposure?”