Authors: Paula Reed
Apparently, God was not moved. Her heart continued to pump, her lungs to draw breath, but she found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open or to think. She passed in and out of dreams in which beautiful angels beckoned, only to have their glowing countenances replaced by a leering Owen Williams. Small forms flitted over her—tiny demons sent to torment her!
Occasionally, lucid thought broke through, and she knew that the day was passing. She was consumed by thirst but had neither means of quenching it nor any confidence that she could keep water down if she had any. It seemed impossible that she could make it through the night. The light from the hold waned, and with the darkness, one last rational thought seeped through her muddled brain. Every muscle aching, she dragged herself to the bottom of the ladder. Despite her impassioned pleas to her Maker, Faith was possessed of a strong will to live, and that impelled her up the ladder onto the level above.
Chapter 5
The ship’s cook, Thomas Bartlett, stared in the dim light at the apparition that crawled from the ship’s hold and collapsed in an untidy heap. He scratched his balding gray head, and then his substantial paunch under a shirt that might have once been white.
“Who are ye” he asked, “all drunk and dressed in women’s clothes?” He crept up for a closer look. “Blimey, ye
are
a woman.” Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he added, “And a sick one, at that.”
With an anxious look around him, he left her where she lay and lumbered up the ladder to the deck above.
The sun had long ago sunk into the water, and a patch of stars twinkled where the clouds parted in the deep black sky. From time to time, the moon broke through, and its reflection danced upon the oily darkness of the ocean. One man played the fiddle while another, as accomplished a vocalist as he was a sailor, sang a lusty tune in a rich voice. None of this gave Thomas pause. He quickly found the quartermaster, Giles Courtney.
Giles stood at the helm, brown hair tied back in a tight queue that defied the wind that tore at it. The authority in his stance left no doubt that this was a man with nearly as much power as the captain himself.
“Ho there, Thomas!” he said. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I may have, Courtney. I may have!” The cook led Giles below, stumbling over the explanation of how he had come upon the girl who lay in a heap just above the hold.
Giles knelt next to her and pressed his hand to her throat. “She lives. I’ll carry her to the captain’s cabin. You go and fetch the captain!”
Thomas did as he was bid, glad to wash his hands of the responsibility. Giles lifted the woman’s inert form and carried her aft to his friend’s cabin. Once there, he set her gently on the bunk, lit the lantern affixed to the cabin wall, and studied their unexpected passenger. Her face was pale and drawn, and she smelled of sweat and sickness, but there was no doubt that, clean and well, she’d make a fair sight to behold.
He shook his head grimly. A woman on board a ship of unruly men was bad enough, but a pretty one was sure to be trouble. He wondered what the cap’n would make of her. By the look of her dress, she was a Puritan, and likely a virtuous maid.
That might offer her some protection from men who respected such qualities, but Captain Hampton was a different story. He and Geoff had been friends since they were mere cabin boys, and Geoff had always thought women to have but one purpose. There was only one thing for it, Giles decided, and he bent down to scoop her up and move her to his own quarters. Ere he could do so, the arrival of the ship’s commander stopped him.
Giles and Geoff were of an age, a score and seven years. Both wore boots and breeches, and like Giles, Geoff’s hair was pulled back into a queue. But the resemblance ended there. Where Giles’s eyes were gray and serious, Geoff’s were nearly gold and held a perpetual hint of recklessness. Giles’s deep brown locks would never dare escape the ribbon that held them in place, where strands of Geoff’s lighter mane had pulled free in several places. Despite all of this, the captain appeared the elder, his features sharper, his mouth more cynical.
Geoff strode purposefully to the bunk, a question upon his lips, but he paused when he saw the woman who lay there. A look of recognition lit his eyes.
“What is it, Cap’n?” Giles asked. “Do you know this girl?”
“Aye—well, nay. That is—we’ve met, but I do not know her.”
The cryptic answer did little to sate Giles’s curiosity. “What on earth do you suppose she was doing in our hold?”
Geoff tilted his head and gave her an admiring look. “I think I have a notion, old friend.”
“Don’t hold back! What’s this about?”
The captain only smiled slightly. He reached down and pulled the limp coif from her head then freed her shimmering locks from their restraining pins. “Ah, Giles, this one’s made for where we’re bound.” He twisted a nearly silver curl around his finger. “Her hair, it puts me in mind of a fine, white beach in the moonlight. And well I remember the color of her eyes, blue as the Caribbean itself.”
Giles set his jaw and crossed his arms. “Hold there a moment, Geoff. I’ll not argue that she’s a lovely little thing, but she’s hardly given you leave to run your fingers through her hair. I was thinking perhaps she’d do better in my cabin.”
Geoff laughed, and though ‘twas a sound that usually lightened Giles’s serious demeanor, now it did but rankle. The Cap’n’s laughter died down to a chuckle. “Your cabin indeed. Doubtless you’d find some nobler purpose for laying hands on the lass.”
“Actually, I thought we’d share your cabin and give her a bit of privacy.”
Geoff seemed to ponder the idea earnestly, but he couldn’t fool his oldest friend. Giles knew Geoff would find some excuse to disagree.
“She’ll be safer with me,” Geoff said at last. “No man would dare breech my door. And much as I like you, old friend, I’ve no wish to be your bunkmate this voyage. This arrangement is better, for I’ll protect her well.”
“Protect her, will you?” Giles asked.
Geoff gave him a dark scowl, one he saved crewmen who crossed him and the captains of vessels they seized. “‘Tis my decision as cap’n,” he said, “and ‘tis final.”
Unintimidated, Giles frowned back. Geoff seldom pulled rank between them, and he didn’t appreciate the fact that he had chosen to do so now. It looked to be a stormy passage indeed!
*
Faith continued to drift through unreal darkness. At first, she was caught in a complete void that neither light nor sound could penetrate. Then, the blackness erupted into flames, and she stood on the bank of a lake of fire. She was consumed by thirst, but the molten lake offered no relief. From the darkness beyond, Satan tempted her in a voice she vaguely recognized from somewhere, though she couldn’t quite place it.
“Here, love, take a little sip,” he cajoled, holding a chalice of some evil elixir to her dry, parched lips.
She knew she should resist, but when the cool liquid touched her mouth, she swallowed against her will. Sweet, cool water flavored with rum trickled down her raw, burning throat, but it came from the devil indeed! He gave her enough to whet her craving, but not nearly enough to quench her prodigious thirst.
“More,” she croaked, heedless that its price could well be her soul.
“Nay. I know you’ve a powerful thirst, but you must go slowly to keep it down.” He reached over and tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from her brow. The touch of the devil was soft, not at all the searing brand she expected.
She still could not see his face for the flickering shadows of the inferno around them, but he wore an ostrich feather upon his hat. “How odd,” Faith murmured. This was hardly the horned and cloven-hoofed image of Old Scratch painted by the passionate preachers who had warned of his trickery.
At intervals, she floated slightly from the darkness that enveloped her to partake of more liquor-tinged water, and in time, her throat was soothed and she fell into a peaceful sleep.
She awoke more fully herself and found herself in a room lit by a window through which filtered soothing, gray light. Beneath her was a soft mattress in a fairly roomy bed that was bolted to the floor and against the wall. Still, she rocked, but it did not seem as violent as before, or she had grown accustomed to it.
She sought to familiarize herself with the rest of the chamber, but her gaze was arrested by the alarming sight of a man seated at a heavy desk, his unshod feet propped upon its scarred surface. He appeared to be sleeping, and though she could not recall where she had seen him, she knew that they had met.
Either he slept lightly or slumbered not at all, but when he opened his eyes and grinned at her, she knew at once who he was. He looked altogether different without his hat, his hair pulled back. The lace cravat and velvet coat had given way to a plain, loose-fitting shirt, its collar left open at the throat. He had doffed the boots and left his legs and feet bare from the knees down, sinewy calves resting casually on the desktop. Nonetheless, this was unmistakably the sea captain with the silk!
“Awake, are you?” he asked.
“Aye,” she answered nervously as she sat up. “This is your ship then?”
His brows shot up in puzzlement, and he lowered his legs. “Aye. Did you not know that when you came on board?”
“Nay. I knew only that this ship,
Destiny
, was bound for Jamaica, and I have a need to go there.”
“You wound me,” he teased. “I did think ‘twas my devilish good looks and chivalry that lured you here. But tell me, now, what’s in Jamaica?”
Faith hesitated. Perhaps it was unwise to tell him everything. In truth, if she never arrived, no one would know what had become of her. Even should her parents think to look for her in Jamaica, it was most unlikely that they would trace her to this ship. If he knew that, it might not go well for her. Instead, she thought it prudent to change the subject.
“You gave me water,” she said.
He smiled, but the expression only served to make him look a bit dangerous. “Not going to tell me? So be it. We’ll be at sea at least three weeks, possibly four. Neither of us is going anywhere, and there will be more than enough time for questions.” He shrugged with cat-like grace. “For now, aye, I gave you water. You were sore in need of it.”
“Is this your room?”
“It is. Only the quartermaster, Giles, and myself have our own cabins. The rest of the crew sleeps where they can. A man may lay claim to one of the hammocks, but he’s likely as not to lose it gaming.”
His answer certainly raised its own problems, but Faith wasn’t ready to contemplate them. At the moment, he was addressing her kindly and didn’t appear immediately threatening.
“Are you not angry with me, then, for sneaking on and stowing away in the night?”
“Well, if you were a man, your welcome would be altogether different,” he conceded, his golden eyes sweeping over her.
A jolt of fear raced through her, and she looked away. To her horror, she realized that her own clothing had disappeared, and she was covered only by an oversized man’s shirt made of white lawn. The neck was not completely fastened, so it slipped over one shoulder, and the hem reached only the middle of her thighs, leaving her legs exposed amid the tangle of bedclothes. With a small gasp, she tucked them in and pulled the sheet to her chin.
“Modesty?” He chuckled. “‘Tis a fetching trait in a pretty wench, but who do you think washed the sickness from you and changed your clothes?”
Faith’s entire body went hot with shame, and she thought that surely fear would make her sick again. Oh, what could she have been thinking? She had boarded this vessel knowing nothing of its captain and crew. They could be pirates for all she knew! He didn’t look like a pirate, though. She had seen them at the harbor, a dirty, hairy lot. Still, his hard, lean face seemed suddenly sinister. She clutched the bed sheet in her sweaty fists.
He rose from the desk, appearing to fill the room with his tall form and broad shoulders. “Good God, woman! Do not look at me like that! Most women think me a handsome fellow, and I’ll have you know I’ve yet to have to use force to get a wench to share my bed.”
This pronouncement did little to calm Faith’s consternation. “But you—you saw me!”
“Don’t trouble yourself over it. It was no chore, I assure you, and I wasn’t about to leave you in my clean bed as you were. Your dress was covered in rat filth. I doubt me ‘tis even worth saving.”
“I have another in the hold.”
“In no better shape, I fear.”
“They’re all I have! I’ll wash them myself, but I must keep them!”
The captain seemed to ponder that a moment. “Aye, you could do that, but laundry must be done on deck, and what will you wear while you do it?”
An image popped in her mind of herself in the lawn shirt, washing her clothes while a ship full of men watched on. Tears stung her eyes, and she buried her face in the covers.
“Now now, love, I was only teasing.” He sank onto the mattress next to her, and she scuttled backward to the wall with another gasp.
“Damn!” he muttered under his breath, and he stood up and crossed to the window. “‘Tis a good thing you found your way here and not on board some other ship. For God’s sake, girl! Did it never enter your mind what you risked stowing away on a ship of men far from land and female company?”
Her cursed willfulness flared inside of her. She had been through too much to be chastised and sworn at. Without a thought for the consequences, she snapped, “I didn’t think they would ever know I was there, and I wish you would not do that!”
“I promise, I’ll stay all the way over here,” Geoff replied.
“Nay, not that. Well, aye, stay over there, but I wish you would kindly keep the third Commandment.” He stared at her incredulously, and Faith thought that surely she had pushed too hard. He had not done her any harm, thus far, and it would not do to anger him, so she did as she had always done when faced with another’s displeasure. She cast her eyes down and whispered, “If you please.”
“What the hell is the third Commandment?”
“What? What sort of Englishman does not know his Commandments?” She risked another glance at him, and saw that he regarded her with one brow lifted in disdain.