Pirate's Wraith, The (17 page)

“Who gave the order to abandon ship?” Harlan roared.

“Mr. Moody, of course.” Meeker smiled.

As the boat was freed from the lines, men took the oars and rowed away.

Harlan pressed his lips together. A huge wave slammed upon the
Lyrical’s
bow. He held his breath waiting for it to rise again. Slowly, the water fell away and he let out his breath. 

“We’re doomed.” Lesley said.

“The small boats in this sea could capsize or be swamped by a large wave.” He did not tell her that since the
Lyrical
had turned broadside to the waves they were in a similarly precarious and deadly situation.

“There may be others left behind,” he said. He went below, carrying Lesley. It was a relief to be shielded from the screaming wind but on the lower deck, water sloshed everywhere, carrying debris with it as the ship rolled and yawed in the churning sea. He had to slog through it carefully to avoid getting knocked over by barrels and footlockers.

His throat tightened. That much water on the lower deck did not bode well for orlop deck. His heart thundered as he approached the stairs.

“You cannot go down there,” Lesley said.

“I must see if anyone ....” He could say no more for he knew the odds.

He propped Lesley next to a cannon carriage. She handed him the lantern and he went down one step, then one more. The water reached his chest but he held the lantern high.

Dead men drifted through the seawater.

Fear clawed at him. He knew Gilly would never leave his patients unless he was taken by force. Harlan grabbed the corpses as they slid by him and stared into the faces of the dead men. He knew them all. He had fought side by side with them and they had been both brave and fierce, but he did not want to find his friend among them.

Yet, he knew in his heart what must have happened. He found the doctor--silent and cold, with a bullet hole in his forehead.

“Bastards
!”

On this ship of fools, he had one friend, and now he had been taken from him. The ache in his chest grew into an empty yawning blackness that spread inside him until he was as numb as all the poor souls in orlop deck. Would he, too, die in this endless watery grave?

“Are you all right?” Lesley’s voice called to him from cannon carriage. “Captain! Answer me!”

“Yes
! Yes, I am coming.” He released Gilly from his hold and waded back to the stairway. He could do nothing for the old physician now, but it might not be too late for Lesley and him. Harlan must not give up for her sake.

* * * *

Lesley’s panic level on a scale of one to ten stood at twenty. Time became her enemy. In 2011, she believed she had all the time in the world. Now every second counted. Of course, if this was hell, she shouldn’t expect less.

The waves crashed over the
Lyrical
as it settled lower and lower into the sea. The wind screamed and rain fell in solid sheets as she perched on the stairway that led to the poop deck. The sea had taken the waist of the
Lyrical.
The entire ship would disappear below the waves at any moment.

Drenched and numb with cold, she watched the captain build a raft. He worked quickly by lashing together barrels, hatch covers, and other parts of the ship. He included a few footlockers, which he stashed with whatever provisions he could gather that were not yet waterlogged.

She placed the little horse in one of the footlockers where she hoped it would be safe. The footlocker should float, even if the raft sank.

Fear closed up her throat and she could barely swallow. She could not do much to help except roll up rope or fold canvas. Keeping her hands occupied served to stave off the grief in her heart. The captain had told her of the doctor
’s death. For her, there would be no going back and at the moment it appeared as if her body could wind up in the bottom of the sea. 

Or in some shark’s belly.

The captain tossed a hammock, a couple of soggy blankets, a pot, some bowls, and tools on the raft.

“It is time.”
He lifted her from the stairs and set her on the raft. “You must hold tightly,” he warned.

“I’ve ridden Nitro at Six Flags Great Adventure. I can handle this.” She boasted though she quailed inside. The raft had no safety features--no seat belts, no airbags. Would it
even float?

His icy stare chilled her, reminding her that he was a pirate who stabbed people right through the heart and blasted them to pieces with cannonballs, but he was all she had for company. She shuddered to think of being left alone on the sinking
Lyrical
with the dead men in orlop deck for companionship.

The captain untied the ropes attached to the
Lyrical
and hopped aboard the raft with her. “The wind is blowing southwest. We will cruise to warmer climes.”

“The world is mostly ocean—seventy-one percent. Finding land is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.”
She bit her lip, settled against a corner where the captain had lashed down the two footlockers, and clutched at the ropes that held the raft together. “I sure wish I had my GPS.”

“I have traveled over much of the world. We will find land.” After he spoke, a huge wave washed over the
Lyrical,
picked up the raft and carried it away.

She turned to watch as the
Lyrical
and all the souls of the dead sank beneath the waves. Her time on the ship had been short and fraught with dramatic moments. Still, there had been a few good days and she never gave up the belief--no matter how negligible--that the doctor could send her home since his experiment had delivered her to this time and place. She continued to have faith in him to find a way to reverse the process, but that small glimmer of hope died along with him.

Her soul withered, leaving an immeasurable ache inside her. She had to face the fact that she would never see her dear sister again or her niece and nephew. Never. Never. Never.

The reality of that loss cut so deep she did not know if she could bear it. Yes, all her former luxuries had vanished as well, but that meant little. Her sister would not know how much she missed her, how much she loved her and those sweet children.

She thought about the las
t time they had been together. They had gone apple picking in an orchard. The sun had been warm on their skin and joy reigned over every moment. Her migraine had receded to a tolerable level and she had been relaxed. They had laughed and snapped hundreds of photos of the kids who were adorable in every picture. After returning to her sister’s house, they made apple crisp, which they ate warm with vanilla ice cream.

Would the kids remember her when they grew up? How she wished she could hug them one more time
.

The wind screamed louder and the rain dumped sheets of water at her. Did it matter if she cried? Who would notice her tears? She closed her eyes as the grief in her heart rose up and threatened to swallow her.

The captain’s hand wiped her cheek and a sob escaped her lips.

“It is gone.” His voice sounded tight, but it could have been the wind carrying his words away.
“But we live.”

Her time to wallow in sorrow did not last for the wild sea threatened to swamp the raft, though it proved its buoyancy time and again as it climbed each watery mountain to the pinnacle and then dropped like a rock into a trough with a splash. She clutched at the ropes until they cut into her skin.

Her ankle hurt like hell. Bruised from head to toe and freezing cold, her teeth chattered while her entire body shivered. She wondered how long it would take before she came to the very end of her endurance or the limit of her sanity.

“We must keep warm.” The captain’s arms came around her. The strength of his well-defined sinews set her heart palpitating in a most unus
ual manner as she remembered that erotic heavy petting session in his cabin. 

Dammit.
She might drown and all she could think of was that cannon in his britches. 

Her stomach rumbled. And she could not stop thinking about food either. 

“I would love a big, fat juicy cheeseburger and a king-sized portion of greasy, salty French fries,” she muttered. “I don’t suppose they’ve been invented yet, but if you could do me a favor and slaughter a cow, I’ll introduce you to fast food.”

He sighed into her ear, which tickled
her in a dangerously sensual manner. She leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes. Her temperature went up several degrees.  

“The islands have many turtles.” He crooned the words. “We will eat those.”

The fantasy she had begun to weave in her mind disintegrated.

“You can’t eat
turtles. Most of them are endangered—and some carry salmonella.”

“They are easy to catch.”

“Naturally, they don’t move quickly, which is why they’re endangered. You should leave the poor creatures alone.”

“Some are far too fatty and not good for eating, but there are those that are quite palatable.”

“Palatable is not a rave review. Why don’t we catch a lobster? Or shrimp? How about flounder stuffed with crabmeat.” Her stomach rumbled again.

He chuckled. “You are hungry.”

“I’m starving. At this point, I’ll eat raw fish. Sushi we call it. I’ve never been a devotee, but that could change right now.”

“There is hardtack, but it is damp.”

“Is that all you brought?”

He tightened his grip on her so they fit tightly together. “When the stars come out, I will calculate our position.”

She gulped as she stared as his long legs dwarfing hers. It didn’t take much math to come to the deduction that this arrangement could be dangerous. She glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds still hung above the little boat, but the rain had almost stopped. On the horizon the sky cleared.

She returned to looking at his long legs and the ridged arms that held her securely. She drank in every detail about him and forgot about her hunger for food. Instead her mind became consumed with the almost feral scent of him. He was more beast than a man. Need smoldered inside her, a hunger like nothing she had ever experienced. 

Nevertheless, the silence between them disturbed her. She needed to tamp down her hormones and thought bland conversation might help. “I just wondered ... since we are sitting on a raft in this very big ocean ... do you know how to swim?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s good to know ... I guess.”

“Can you swim?” he asked.

“Yes, though I’ve never built up any endurance in it.”

“Witches cannot drown.” His remark hit her like a slap in the face.

“What kind of nonsense is that? How can you believe such claptrap?” She did not even try to reign in her ire.

“Dunking determines if a woman is a witch. If the victim survives, she is a witch.”

“That is bizarre. How many innocent women were murdered by that method?”

“You have survived the sinking of the ship.”

“You are here with me. Are you a witch?”

“I am a man.”

She wanted to shake some sense into him. “You built this raft to save us. Is it a magical raft?”

“It is floating.”

“Wood floats. It is porous and less dense than water.”

“Why did the
Lyrical
sink?”

“Um ... you must have had some ballast in it.”

“You said wood floats.”

“It does, ordinarily. But you did have ballast in the ship, plus it was already taking on water. Water adds weight to the ship.”

“It was a beautiful ship.” Bleak melancholy tinged his voice and she could understand how he felt. She had lost her sleek new car with the heated seats. Warmth spread to her cheeks, as she reveled in the heated seat provided for her by the captain. His nearness sent her hormones surging in a way that the cushioned seat in her car could not duplicate.

Her stomach rumbled again.

“Look in the sack in the footlocker,” the captain suggested.

Reaching into the wooden box, she found a crude cloth sack and pulled it open. Inside were at least two dozen soggy hardtack biscuits and a bottle of something. She yanked out the cork and sniffed.
 

“Wine?” She took a swig, swished it around in her mouth, and swallowed it. “Not bad. A slight astringent sting, but the overall fragrant aroma has a hint of nut. While not an outstanding wine I find it perfect for pairing with a tender steak.”

She chuckled and intended to enjoy another long draught but the captain took the bottle from her and replaced the cork.

“We must save it.”

“What for?” She gave him a fierce glare. “Let’s face facts. We’re going to die out here. We might as well have a little fun beforehand.” First they should down the entire bottle of wine and then ... then they should make love. She swallowed hard. They should continue making love until they died. She stared at the bulge in his britches. She wanted that cannon to explode inside her. After that, if she died she wouldn’t mind—unless, of course, she was already dead and in hell. That remained a possibility.