Surrender the Dawn (47 page)

Cassandra reached out for him. “Are you all right? Have they harmed you?”

“No, miss.” He lifted one side of his breeches. An odd metal contraption hooked around his ankle, extending to a brace that disappeared up his leg.

At her look of astonishment, he said, “I have rickets.”

Concern for this poor boy flooded Cassandra. She stared at him, unsure of what to say. All this time, Luke not only had a brother he cared for, but an ill child.

“It’s not serious, miss. Besides, Luke was able to purchase this new brace with his prize money.” He released the pant leg, once again hiding his withered leg.

Just as the outward appearance of man often hides the evil intentions of the heart. Cassandra’s thoughts sped to Luke—a loving heart loyal to family yet hidden beneath a rough exterior. And what of Mr. Crane? A black heart hidden beneath the prim polish of a wealthy newspaper owner.

Rays from the setting sun peered in through the porthole and bounced over the back of the door with each move of the ship. Up down, up down, as if the light were restricted from going beyond certain boundaries.

“Luke sounds like a good brother.”

“He’s the best, miss. Been taking care of me since I was a baby.”

“Yes, I heard your parents were killed. I’m sorry.”

John’s eyes grew vacant as he glanced out the porthole. “I don’t remember them.” Then his face brightened. “But I’m sure I’ll see them in heaven.”

Cassandra smiled. “I would have never known you wore a brace.”

“Not everything is as it seems.” John snapped his hair from his face, reminding her once again of Luke. “Which is why we must believe God has a plan.”

She studied him. “How can you say that when you’ve been trapped here for a month?”

He shrugged. “God doesn’t want me to leave yet. When He does, I will.” A whistle sounded from above, followed by the
clang clang
of a bell.

John nodded toward her, his eyes widening. “And God has something for you to do as well.”

“Me?” Cassandra nearly laughed. Such childlike faith. But Cassandra wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman who had experienced enough of life to know that faith in God was for pastors and children and the simpleminded.

A knock pounded on the door. “Boy!”

John frowned, but then his eyes took on a sparkle. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached into a pocket in his oversized breeches and brought out a piece of foolscap, a tiny bottle of ink, and a quill pen.

“What are these for?” Cassandra asked.

“If you want to write a note to Luke or someone back home, I can try to slip it to him next time he comes. I thought it would help pass the time.”

“Thank you, John.” Cassandra took them and set them aside. Then grasping his hands, she squeezed them. “Be careful, John. These men are our enemies.”

“I know.” Stepping toward her, John embraced her. “Be careful as well, miss.”

Startled by his affection, Cassandra wrapped her arms around him as her memories drifted to Hannah and Darlene. Sorrow threatened to overwhelm her.

“Hurry up, boy!” The shout sent John reaching for the door handle.

“You remind me of your brother,” Cassandra said. “Though smaller and kinder and not so angry.”

The statement brought a huge smile to the boy’s face. “You’re the woman he talked about, aren’t you?”

“One of many, I am sure.”

“No. He told me you were special. One of a kind. A true lady.”

Initial elation gave way to sorrow as Cassandra realized that, just like everyone else in town, she had not believed that Luke was anything but a rogue. If she had, if she had shown faith in him, maybe he would have trusted her and told her the truth. Then maybe she could have helped him think of a way to rescue John.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” John opened the door, and the marine tugged him out before Cassandra could say good-bye. Gathering the pen and ink, she lifted her skirt and tucked them inside the pocket she’d sown in her petticoat. No doubt if that stiff marine saw them in her cabin, he’d take them from her. The boy’s infectious faith remained in the cabin long after he left, giving rise to a yearning within Cassandra—a yearning to believe she was not alone, that everything that had happened was part of a plan, for a purpose, and that her life and the world were not spinning chaotically out of control toward some final destruction.

With the Bible snug in her lap, Cassandra sat for hours and watched as the sun’s rays withdrew from the door and slid over the deck head until finally disappearing out the porthole, taking with them the last trace of hope left by John’s presence.

Despair took its place. It crowded in her throat and threatened to fill her eyes with tears. Unless she could figure out a way for her and John to escape—or by some miracle Luke rescued them—she’d be stuck on this ship forever. In this cabin all alone, or worse …

What would become of her mother and sisters? They had only enough money to last a year. Would her mother be frugal enough to stretch the funds beyond that? And what of Darlene and Hannah’s upbringing? Aside from Margaret and Mr. Dayle, they had no decent instructors in life. Without a firm hand, Darlene would only grow more unruly with each passing year. Who knew what trouble she would become entangled in with her rebellious, carefree spirit?

Like you.

Me?
Cassandra glanced over the shadows burgeoning from the corners of the cabin as memories assailed her of all the times she’d disobeyed her mother and father. All the times she’d left home without permission, snuck food into her bedchamber, put spiders in Mrs. Northrop’s bed, garden snakes in the stew, ink on her brother Gregory’s teeth while he slept. The list went on endlessly, bringing a smile to her lips. Her rising shame quickly transformed it into a frown. Each time she’d been caught for one of her seditious deeds her father had coddled her, rescuing her from her mother’s wrath. Yet now, Cassandra wondered if he had done her more of a disservice.

“I’m different now. I’ve grown up,” she said out loud to the creaking timbers of the ship.

But visions assaulted her: how she traipsed about town at night with
a large-summed banknote in her reticule, invested in a privateer against her mother’s wishes, and dressed like a man and sneaked aboard Luke’s ship.

All reckless acts that had led her to her current dire situation.

“Oh, bother.” She hung her head as her eyes filled with tears. She had never really changed, had she? She had always done exactly what she wanted, went her own way, caused her parents grief. And not trusted anyone. In particular, God. And where had it gotten her?

Doomed to a life of slavery.

“But I wouldn’t have done those things if You hadn’t left me, God. I had to take care of my family.”

I never left you.

A chill struck Cassandra. Hugging herself, she sent a wary gaze about the tiny cabin. No doubt the many hours she’d spent alone were causing her to hear things. She set the Bible on the desk and stood to light the lantern hanging from the deck head. Its glow chased the shadows back into hiding as the room filled with the smell of whale oil.

Yet if God was speaking to her, if He was listening, she had some things to tell Him. Her jaw hardened. “But You took my father, my brothers.”

Silence.

As she thought. God wasn’t there.

Sails thundered above and the bell rang again, followed by the pounding of feet. The change of a watch, no doubt. The smells of some kind of stew permeated the thin walls, making her stomach growl. She rubbed it, regretting that she’d stubbornly turned down her noon meal. It would be at least an hour before the sailor brought her supper.

Stubborn pride. She knew it well. Had seen it mirrored in Darlene. It was the kind of pride that made Cassandra refuse to rely on anyone else—forced her to accomplish everything herself. For if she did not trust, she would never be hurt, abandoned, or disappointed. Would she?

Distant thunder hammered the evening sky. Or was it cannon fire? Standing on her tiptoes, Cassandra peered out the porthole at the undulating sea. Coral and crimson fingers stretched over the indigo waters in one final caress of the sun. The ship jolted. Staggering, she fell back on her bed. The lantern flung shifting silhouettes of shadow and light across the bulkheads. Dark and light, good and evil, faith and unbelief. Life was full of choices.

Cassandra hadn’t realized until now how important those choices were.

She opened the Bible. She didn’t know why. She’d heard plenty of passages read in church, hundreds of sermons. Flipping through the pages, she landed on James. Her eyes idly scanned the text until the word
proud
seemed to magnify on the paper.

“God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.”

Had God resisted her because of her pride? And her unbelief? Was it too late to draw near to Him? Would He still answer her prayers? Or had her arrogant rebellion formed an impenetrable wall between them?

Releasing a heavy sigh, she sifted through the pages, seeking answers, stopping in Hebrews.

“But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”

Instead of seeking God, Cassandra had been running from Him, thinking He was not worthy of her trust. That He, like everyone else, had abandoned her. Hope peeked out from her despair. If she diligently sought God now as His Word said, would He reward her? Would He come to her aid?

Hadn’t Reverend Drummond told her that God would never leave her and would always provide? And what of Margaret? Still loving God. Still trusting Him after He took her only child.

Confusion sent Cassandra’s convictions into a whirl. Bad things, terrible things still happened. And God could have prevented all of them. She glanced over the shadowy room.

“Why didn’t You? Why did You let Papa die and my brothers leave us?”

They chose.

“But You could have stopped them.”

Silence, save for the creaks and groans of the timbers.

Seek Me. Trust Me.

The ship rose and crashed over a swell, and somewhere a fiddle began to play.

Closing the Bible, Cassandra pressed it against her chest. This time it felt as though she held holy words in her hands. For she knew without a doubt that God had spoken to her.

“I want to trust You.” To know she was never alone. To know that Almighty God would always be there to help her, protect her, love her. It was too much to hope for. Too good to be true. Too much to believe. Wasn’t it?

I Am.

Wiping the tears from her face, she glanced over the room. An explosion of joy and peace filled the air, permeating every crack and crevice. Gooseflesh ran from her head down to her toes.

And she knew God was there.

“I’m so sorry, Lord.” Dropping to her knees, she set the Bible on her bed and leaned her head on top of it. “I’m sorry I’ve been proud, resisting You, not believing You loved me. I’m sorry I’ve been running from You.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, dropping onto the leather. “I’ve been a fool.”

I love you, precious daughter.

Several minutes passed. When she opened her eyes, moonlight spilled through the porthole, forming milky arms that curled around her in a warm embrace. And for the first time since she arrived on this abominable ship, Cassandra curled up on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Laying his coat, sword, and pistol onto the table in the foyer, Luke entered the sitting room. Mrs. Barnes sat in her chair by the fireplace, knitting. Where she’d been nearly every minute since John had been kidnapped. Luke had even caught her sleeping there many a night.

She glanced up, and a sad smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Do you think your plan will work?”

“It has to.” Luke huffed and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. All was in place. They’d spent the past two days disguising
Destiny:
removing her name, painting her hull, changing the position of her cannons. Noah had managed to garner two British naval uniforms from the fort—discards from prisoners of war—and Mr. Reed was putting the final touches on forged orders for the transfer of prisoners.

Mrs. Barnes returned to her knitting, and Luke’s gaze drifted to her open Bible on the table beside her. “We could use your prayers.” He could hardly believe he was asking such a thing.
Creak, creak, creak.
The rhythmic rock of her chair echoed through the room. Though the sound
usually soothed Luke’s nerves, tonight it raked over them with claws of guilt and failure.

“I
have
been praying,” she said. “We’ll have John back soon. I know it.”

Marching to the window, Luke peered at the tumble of clouds forming on the horizon. “I wish I had your confidence.” He snorted. “Both in myself and in your God.”

“Two things that must be remedied before you can truly succeed,” she said. “The latter before the former.”

Her words stirred an odd desire within Luke for both.