Beloved Castaway (20 page)

The anchor splashed over the rail, chased by the thick, rusted chain like a mongrel after a bone. A moment later, the ship lurched, sending Andre sprawling against the man next to him. Like dominos, they fell, yet despite the wind and waves, the
Perroquin
held fast to her mooring.

Scrambling to his feet, Andre held tight to the rail and watched the sea boil and beat against the ship. He fisted his free hand and shook it toward the heavens.
 

A jumble of thoughts melted into pure, white-hot rage that blinded him to anything save the rumbling black sky and the pitiful vessel that slipped farther out of his grasp with every second that ticked by.

Halting now with the
Jude
so near to being caught was unthinkable. Someone must pay.

Someone
would
pay.

“I know you’re frustrated,” the captain called as he reached the rail. “Like as not, we’ll be on our way tomorrow.”

Frustrated?
 

In truth, Andre would have preferred to send the old man flying into the gulf. Rather, he restrained himself in hopes the man’s expertise might save his life. Much as he preferred to exact vengeance when vexed, losing the captain would not bode well for a man in a hurry. And he was nothing if not a man in an extreme hurry.

The thoughts that followed were dangerous at best, so Andre tucked them into the place he kept such musings. “How did this happen?” he asked through clenched jaw.

The old man started talking about weather and wood, but as he spoke, the words became angry darts shot into Andre’s soul. The only way to stop the darts was to stop the words. And the only way to stop the words was to send the captain into the sea.

So he did.

Chapter 17

Was it possible God still heeded his prayers? Swiping at the errant raindrop that dared pelt his face, Josiah kept his gaze on the horizon and pondered the question. Unless he’d gone daft, there seemed to be a lessening of the gale and the slightest glimmer of sunshine to the southwest.

He aimed the vessel in that direction, steering away from the treacherous green waters of the keys. Much as he had hoped to save Banks, the crew and passengers of the
Jude
were not to be sacrificed in the endeavor.

If all went well, he could lay anchor in calmer seas and complete the repairs to her hull, then resume the voyage a few days hence. Thus far, he’d managed to keep the old tub afloat, and if reports were to be believed, the vessel had held together better than expected.

At least the rain had stopped, and the seas had calmed slightly. None were to relax, even he, but there was some measure of comfort in the fact all seemed well at the moment.

“Dare I hope the Lord has heard our prayers, Captain?” Harrigan inched into view and raised the spyglass toward the east. “A pity the reef lies between us and that land over yonder. What I wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep on dry land tonight.”

“In truth, a good night’s sleep anywhere would be a welcome change.”

“Then seek it. I’m of the opinion that a captain with no rest is a dangerous man.”

Josiah chuckled. “Haven’t you heard, Harrigan? I
am
a dangerous man, rest or no rest.”

His second in command offered no response to the statement save a discreet raise of one brow. In truth, this man knew full well how dangerous Josiah Carter could be, a fact Josiah was neither proud of nor happy about.

Yet Josiah now concerned himself with reading a Bible and speaking, however tentatively, to God. What amusement his former crews would find in that.
 

A bolt of lightning zigzagged across the western sky, slicing across gray clouds and shaking his sense of peace. Perhaps the storm was not abating as he’d thought.

There was nothing to be done for it except to see to the safety of the vessel and those aboard. He would stand firm on his course and shake away the foolishness of wishful thinking.

“Have you a report on the repairs, Harrigan?”

“Aye, we’re watertight and safe to travel. What seemed to be a nasty gash was a slight scrape.” He paused. “The Lord has looked favorably upon us yet again.”

The Lord has looked favorably upon us yet again.
 

Would that he could cling to that belief as tightly as Harrigan. Odd, but he found he truly wished it so.
 

With that thought bearing down hard on him, Josiah held tight to the wheel until the
Jude
sailed safely away from the outer reaches of the reef and into calmer seas. Despite his better intentions, the question of the Lord’s favor continued.
 

Know that I am God.
He’d read those words more than once in the hours he pored over the mademoiselle’s text.
Seek and ye shall find.
That, too, had remained in his thoughts. For a third time, the question appeared in his mind.
 

This time he did not ignore the opportunity to respond.
Do You still hear the pleadings of this miserable sailor, God? Show me, then, if I may be so bold.

Some might say their reprieve from certain doom was proof enough, but Josiah held out hope that the Lord, if He still cared, would do something more.

Something a bit grander.
 

Indeed, a miracle on the order of those recorded in Isabelle’s Bible would certainly allay any concerns. Josiah looked up to judge the power of the iron gray clouds overhead, then revised his request.
 

I don’t want much. Just show me You care.
 

A thought occurred, and he smiled.
God, if You’re listening, would You redeem this vessel from the devil that seeks to claim it?

“Captain, a word with you if I might.” Isabelle Gayarre rounded the corner and nearly collided with Harrigan.

“Begging your pardon, Mademoiselle Gayarre,” Harrigan said quickly. “I was just leaving.”

“No, you weren’t,” Josiah called. “I was. Have the men lay anchor. She’ll be safe here for tonight.”

Harrigan gave him an odd look but said nothing. Rather, he sidestepped into position behind the wheel and barked the order.
 

While the business of securing the vessel for anchoring went on about them, Josiah met the older man’s gaze. “I’ll be looking for that good night’s sleep, so see to the
Jude
while I rest, eh? Tomorrow, I’ll fight the battle of the reef again.”

“Aye, Captain.” He smiled. “Top of the evening to you both.”

Ignoring his second in command, Josiah sighed. A long night and longer day of fighting wind and water had him ready to do no more than find his pillow and seek the solace of sleep. Or perhaps, if his eyes did not fail him, he might open the pages of the Bible once more.
 

“I’ve neither the time nor the inclination for lengthy conversation, mademoiselle.”

“Nor I.” Isabelle fell into step beside him. “But I’ve news that will not wait.”

When he continued to press forward through the throng of men working on deck, she boldly reached for his elbow and halted his progress. “Captain Carter, I beg you to listen. The coin with which I was to pay my passage may yet be aboard the
Jude
.”

---

The captain’s attention captured, Isabelle allowed herself to be steered away from the throng. Josiah led her around coils of rope and groups of men, one hand on her elbow. Men called to one another as sails were trimmed and the anchor readied to be dropped overboard.

William had schooled her on the names for each sail and the purpose for each man aboard. Never would she have dreamed that even a vessel such as the
Jude
would require so many men to keep her afloat and headed in the right direction.

His entertaining tales of Josiah Carter’s exploits on voyages to exotic ports had filled the time between sleeping and caring for the sick. Seeing the man before her now, Isabelle wondered how much of the stories was true and how much had been cleaned up to make them fit for a young boy’s consumption.

Over the days of their voyage, the captain had become much
bolder in his questions to her about the Lord. What had transpired in the hold last night during the storm served to remind her that this was not an unintelligent fellow. Rather, his was a sharp mind. And she’d seen many examples of his courage and self-sacrifice for the well being of his crew. If only she’d known this before she had boarded the vessel. Those who had spoken with Mama Dell about Josiah Carter had called him a dolt and a heathen. They were sorely mistaken.

The captain strode ahead of her, a confident man whose presence parted the way and caused even the vilest of the sailors to pay him tribute. Most backed away in what seemed to be fear, others in obvious respect.

His dark broad coat bore signs he’d worn it through not only this gale but also others. It had certainly been doused by the downpour, then dried upon his back. His white linen shirt had also seen better days, although it looked a sight better than the bloody one she’d pulled from his shoulders some days ago.

A flitting memory of that incident crossed her mind, and she had to blink hard to dislodge it. What had seemed necessity at the moment—seeing to a man whose injuries threatened his ability to command—now took on new meaning. Fingers across bruised and bleeding flesh had worked to bandage and heal, but they still carried the recollection of a touch that under other circumstances might have been more personal.

She curled her fingers into fists and willed away any thought of Josiah Carter in those terms. What sort of madness sent her musings toward such foolishness anyway?

Unable to look at the man directly, she lifted her gaze skyward and promptly caught her foot on something that sent her sprawling in a most undignified manner. Before she could scramble to her feet, a half dozen unwashed bodies came to her assistance. The throng parted as Captain Carter joined their company.

The act of reaching out his hand to her sent the men shuffling back. Josiah’s fingers grasped hers and tugged, then to her surprise, he placed his hand at the small of her back and led her away from the obstacle course that was mid-deck.

“You are unharmed.”

A statement she dared not dispute, for she did not rise from her fall unscathed. In addition to the damage to her pride, she’d also reveled for a moment in the feel of his hand on hers, the touch of his palm against her back.

Izzy, you are a fool. Stop acting like a brainless twit. This is a man who on most occasions you barely tolerate.

Still, seeing the captain through the eyes of his peers certainly gave her pause to wonder whether she, too, should feel a measure of awe and respect for him. Certainly the breadth of the Virginian’s shoulders and the handsomeness of his face were not unpleasant to look upon. Nor did she believe he would always be at odds with the Creator.
 

No, there were signs he’d become acquainted with God’s goodness and, in time, perhaps would join her in knowing His saving grace, as well. When that happened, there would only be one reason for keeping her distance from Josiah Carter, and that was her mixed parentage.

Even that did not have to be known, she reasoned. The thought sent a skittering of something unfamiliar up her spine.
 

Watch yourself, Izzy. There is always danger in deception, and the Lord’s blessing is never to be found there.
 

She sighed. If the captain were willing to join her in the deception, it would be so easy to pretend they were like any pair.

So easy. And so wrong.

When they were sufficiently alone, Josiah halted. Even then, he scanned the passageway in both directions before turning his attention to her. Their closeness, the position of his body so near hers, brought back memories of their first meeting and, along with it, a strange feeling of butterflies in her stomach.
 

She placed her hand against the back of her neck and recalled the blunt side of his knife as the cold metal touched her there.
 

Watch yourself with him, Izzy. The danger now is to your heart, not your neck.

“Tell me how you suddenly have this knowledge, Mademoiselle Gayarre.”

He’d reverted to speaking French, making her wonder if he sought to keep even the most casual of listeners from understanding. She related the tale of the dying man, keeping to the same language and pausing several times when commotions on deck warranted the captain’s attention.

“So his last words referenced William?” Josiah said when she finished.

“Yes, at least I think he was referring to William. He said ‘the boy.’
 
”

Even in the shadowed light, she could see the troubled expression on the captain’s face. “I cannot fathom what my brother would be doing associating with anyone aboard. He was commanded to keep to himself, and Harrigan knew I had no desire for my brother to mix with others. Too much danger in that.”

Isabelle nodded.

Josiah moved close, balancing easily on the rocking deck. She, however, needed one hand to be pressing against the rough wood of the passageway’s wall to keep her feet under her.
 

“Tell me again exactly who this man was and what he said.”

She did, then waited for him to digest the facts. It was an odd statement, she knew, and nothing so far could explain it.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, then shook his head. “I cannot fathom the connection.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Nor can I. William has said nothing of venturing forth from his quarters save to visit the mademoiselles and me.”

A look crossed the captain’s face, and one corner of his lips turned up in a smile. He took two steps back, then returned to his spot before her and laughed out loud.

“Of course. “ His fingers encircled her wrist as he tugged her along behind him. “I’ve an idea where it might be.”

“You do?” She followed the question with a yelp of pain when her elbow crashed against the wall. “Do slow down, Captain,” she called.