Authors: Demelza Carlton
Ocean's Justice
Ocean's Justice
Demelza Carlton
This book is dedicated to Oma, for inspiring me to immortalise toilet paper. No shipboard birthday is complete without it.
Copyright © 2014 Demelza Carlton
Lost Plot Press
All rights reserved.
One
If I never saw the sea again, it would be too soon.
"She's too much trouble. Too turbulent to do what she must. Send her away somewhere so she can learn obedience. Then she may return."
"She's too young – barely eighteen. She's still upset over his death. Surely we should wait before we send her anywhere."
"No. She did what needed to be done and he's dead by her hand. She's understandably upset, but that will fade. He was only a man. I say we send her away and see what she's capable of accomplishing. What say you, child?"
My mouth still tasted bad at the words I'd spat at the vicious old women, but I'd say the same thing again in a heartbeat. "I hate you. I loved him. He didn't deserve to die and I will NEVER obey your orders again."
My defiance was futile. What did it get me? A small raft drifting across the Indian Ocean, with nothing but the sound of waves and the smell of salt and coal-smoke.
Smoke meant a ship. I was saved.
I squinted into the sunlight, but the waves hid the vessel from me. Maybe I was looking the wrong way. I didn't have the strength to sit up and see.
Rough hands seized me. I struggled, but my weakness won.
Blue eyes drifted above, the same colour as the ocean below. A tangle of wiry seaweed obscured the rest of the man's face.
"It's all right, lass. I'll take care of you."
Darkness took me first.
Two
"Miss? Can you tell me your name? Can you even hear me?" A clammy hand touched my forehead.
I focussed on the words and tried to translate them. I responded to the only one I understood. "Maria."
"Your name is Maria?"
My neck felt stiff as I nodded and opened my eyes.
"I'm Charlie. Charles Seaborn, but everyone calls me Charlie. The other men said you wouldn't live, but Mr McGregor said any girl who could rig that raft and survive long enough to be rescued wasn't going to die in her bed. Mr Allchin, the cook, is going to be furious when he finds out I won my bet. When we reach the Cape, I'm going to use the money to pay for my first woman and...beg pardon, miss. Maria, I mean." The boy reddened, but it didn't slow his words. "Some of the other men are saying you're something supernatural, seeing as you look like Venus and all, on account of having no clothes. Not like them skinny flappers. You have bosoms. The men talk about them a lot. A few say you're bad luck and we never should have rescued you, because you'll doom us like your last ship, but if you were going to sink ships, you wouldn't be floating around on a raft with no clothes and no food or water, a breath away from death. Doesn't make sense. Are you hungry, miss?"
Charlie held out a round, flat piece of metal, topped with a smaller, brown, oval slab. "It's bread, miss. Bread with marmite." He broke a small piece off the slab and popped it into his mouth. He pulled a face. "I don't like marmite – my mum makes me eat it for my health, she says, and Mr Allchin says you must eat it so you don't get beri-beri after so long at sea. Can you remember the name of your ship?"
I still didn't understand his words – but I did register that the slab was food. I reached for it, inclining my head in gratitude to the boy, before I gingerly took my first bite of marmite sandwich. It was the consistency of sponge and it tasted like the sea, but I chewed, swallowed and forced myself to take another bite. My mouth was as dry as dune sand and the additional salt didn't help. Swallowing was painful.
"Drink, miss?" Charlie held out a cup of liquid.
I seized it and sat up, tipping the cup's contents into my mouth. The second mouthful of salty, sponge-like sandwich went down far more smoothly than the first. I wished for the sweet flesh of a fresh fish, but it looked like only marmite was on the menu, whatever that might be.
A choking noise made me look up at Charlie's red face. He seemed to be staring at my chest. "Um, miss? Maria? The Captain found some clothes for you, seeing as you don't have any. Men's clothes, as we're all men here. To protect your...modesty, miss." The boy reddened further as his hands described the curves he couldn't tear his eyes away from.
The rough blanket that had previously covered my body now bared my skin to the waist, so I pulled it up again. This seemed to break the boy from his trance and he stepped away to retrieve a small pile of folded fabric. He shook out a creamy-coloured item that turned out to be a shirt similar to his, which he held out to me. I took the shirt and slipped it over my head, thankful that I didn't have to fumble with the shell buttons under his watchful eyes, for they were already fastened. Next came the pants, which were almost identical to those he wore – including the length of rope threaded through the belt loops. I shifted to the edge of the bunk, so I could put these on, too. The sight of my bare legs seemed to mesmerise the boy almost as much as my breasts had. Perhaps he'd never seen either before.
The pants were much too wide at the waist – I had to hold them up to prevent them from puddling around my ankles. I pulled on the rope, ending up with the length of hemp in my hand and the waist of my pants clutched in the other.
"Ooh, miss, you have to thread it back through those bits there and then tighten it with both ends and cross the ends over and..." Charlie's hands gestured as he attempted to illustrate the words I didn't understand. Bewildered, I tried to follow his hand movements, but the pants slid down and hit the deck.
Deep laughter erupted from behind Charlie and we both turned to see who found my ineptitude funny. What I'd mistaken for seaweed was the man's bristly beard, now tamed to a short pelt across his chin and upper lip. Ocean-blue eyes regarded me with amusement as the man who owned them strode into the cabin. "Caught with your pants down, boy. Very compromising for the lady's honour, especially when we don't even know her name."
"Oh, no, Mr McGregor, you see, she was putting her clothes on and I was trying to help, only I don't think she's worn men's clothes before and these don't fit so well and I couldn't explain how to tie a rope belt and..." The boy continued with his endless sentence-story without pausing for breath, but Blue Eyes had eyes for no one but me.
His gaze was frankly curious, but arrogant, too, in a way that turned my confusion and fear to courage. I straightened, returning his gaze with all the pride of my position. No matter what I wore or where I stood, I wouldn't let this man cow me. Instead, I wanted to tell him to stop his insolent scrutiny. As I lacked the words in his language, I let my stare convey the message for me.
Charlie fell silent and moved aside. Blue Eyes stood before me, close enough to touch, yet he didn't lift his hand nor break the lock that held his eyes and mine. "I think this lady has a lot more honour at stake than we first thought. My lady, what's your name?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but I found my throat too dry to make a sound. This man did strange things to my body with merely his voice and his eyes.
"Maria," Charlie supplied. "That's the only thing she's said. But she was so hungry she ate a whole marmite sandwich and drank all the water."
"Fetch some more water for Lady Maria, boy. And tell Captain Foster she's awake and receiving visitors."
Charlie nodded rapidly. "Yes, Mr McGregor." He hurried out.
Blue Eyes dropped to a crouch at my feet, gathering up my pants. "Permit me to assist you, Lady Maria. We have no maids and no other women aboard, but I'll do the best I can." He pulled the fabric up to my waist, snaking the rope through the loops and tightening it in one swift move, taking my breath away. "On second thought, you should probably tuck this shirt in. That way, it will hide your assets better." His hand stroked my shirt against my skin, smoothing it beneath the waistband of my pants. Heat flooded my body at every caress and my heart beat faster still.
NO! This man wasn't Giuseppe and I wouldn't betray his memory with this strange man, despite his warm hands and ocean-coloured eyes.
He noticed my sudden stiffness and said, "I'm sorry, Lady Maria, but I'm not used to dressing ladies. You must think me very clumsy. I don't mean to take liberties. I'll be as quick as I can." He tied the rope at my waist, avoiding touching me again. "There."
The pants hung from my hips, but they didn't fall, and the shirt ballooned out from my shoulders to my waist, almost hiding my breasts completely. I looked like him and Charlie now. I wanted to thank him, but I didn't know the words to use. Nor did I know Blue Eyes' name.
I patted my chest, as Charlie had when he told me his name. "Name Maria," I said, wishing I knew more of his language.
"I'm delighted to meet you, Lady Maria, and I hope you don't think too badly of us for offering the best we have. If we knew we'd have a female passenger aboard, we might've..."
I shook my head, tears of frustration springing to my eyes. "No lady. Name Maria. Name?" In desperation, I reached out and touched the front of his shirt. I felt hard muscle beneath. "Name?"
He glanced down at my hand before meeting my eyes. "You mean I've seen you undressed, touched your body and helped you dress, but I haven't had the good manners to tell you my name? Good God, what you must think of me. I'm so sorry." He covered my hand with his. "My name's William McGregor, lass, and I'm not normally such a brute. I don't know if you remember, but 'twas I who pulled you off that raft. We thought you were dead, but I swore I'd check anyway, and I was never so relieved to see those blue eyes of yours staring up at me in terror. I didn't mean to frighten you then, lass – but you gave us all a good scare first."
