Brambles and Thorns

by Jocelyn Kirk

  “Very well, but I must explain first. After I spoke to Edward and told him I regretted my engagement to him and dissolved it, I expected to feel terrible grief, grief and its attendant miseries of loneliness and despair.”

  “But you did not?”

  “No, I did not. I felt only relief, but then I berated myself for that emotion, even though it’s quite impossible to control one’s feelings, as we all know so well.”

  “Indeed.”

  After this beginning, Rosalie waited for the expected question, but Megan seemed lost in thought. Rosalie prompted, “Megan, you wanted to ask me something?”

  Megan smiled, but her eyes showed no mirth. “Yes, a question you probably cannot answer, despite your wisdom. What I want to know is, how does one know when one is in love? I thought I loved Edward, but we disagreed on…some aspects of our lives, and I did not love him enough to give in to him. I broke my promise to him and…I feel nothing but relief.”

  “How strange,” replied Rosalie. “Elena asked me a similar question last spring.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I asked her how she would feel if Ben married another woman.”

  “And so I should ask myself the same question?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rosalie with a shrug. “I think your answer lies in the disagreement you had with Edward. You say you did not love him enough to give in to him, and this tells me that the issues that divided you were extremely important. One cannot accede to another on some issues; they are too close to the heart. Or, in the case of women,” Rosalie added, “some issues concern our safety and independence. Unfortunately, many men want to take these things from us.”

  “Your insight, Miss Murdoch, is as always astounding.”

  Rosalie smiled. “On some issues, perhaps; on others, I am blind…or at least I was in the past.”

  This enigmatic statement reminded Megan of the gentleman who had been sitting in Rosalie’s parlor and who had inexplicably insisted on accompanying them. Just as her thoughts began to form themselves into a question, the gentleman himself appeared, cantering up the lane behind them.

  Rosalie turned to him and waved. He slowed his horse and followed behind the gig, but with the rattling of the wheels and the distance he kept behind, Megan felt she could make an inquiry about him without being overheard.

  “Miss Murdoch, who is this gentleman, and how came you to know him? I have seen him about town. He always stares at Elena in a very odd fashion.”

  Rosalie turned toward her, and Megan was struck by the smile on her face and the glow of her eyes. “He is Captain Andrew Reed,” Rosalie said. “I knew him a long time ago. We were engaged to be married, but…certain circumstances pushed us asunder.”

  “Good heavens! So the man whose name struck my brother when he saw it written in the guest book at the inn was actually the man you knew in the past? But I thought the Captain Reed you knew had died.”

  “I thought he had also. I was informed he had died.”

  “But Miss Murdoch, who would have told you such a thing? I shudder to think that it was a deliberate lie. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding of some sort.”

  Before Rosalie could answer, a strong gust of wind nearly upended the cart. The women cried out as they were pitched back and forth, and Megan dropped the reins. The frightened horse jumped about and entangled himself.

  Captain Reed was with them in a moment. He quieted the horse while the women climbed out of the gig. Megan held the horse’s head as Andrew carefully pulled the reins up and reinserted them in the harness rings.

  “I fear we are in for a nor’easter,” Andrew declared. “Look yonder at those trees bending.”

  The women followed his pointing finger and saw a stand of tall trees with their high branches leaning directly southwest, blown by the rising wind. The autumn leaves were falling in a thick shower as the wind tore them from the trees, leaving the branches dark and bare.

  “Let us get ourselves and these horses under shelter quickly,” said Rosalie. “The lane to the farm is just round that bend. Come, Bramble!”

  The wolf had been standing quietly staring at the sky, but at Rosalie’s command, he trotted to the gig and took his place next to it. The mare eyed him and shook her head, rattling the harness. She jumped a little as Megan gave her a gentle slap with the reins but then went forward at a smart trot. Bramble picked up the pace and ran alongside. He sniffed the air and glanced around, as though he sensed danger and could not locate it.

  “These animals are nervous,” she commented. “I’m afraid we’re in for a bad storm.”

  Megan nodded. She kept her eyes on the horse, ready to pull her up if she began to jump about. But the mare was now focused only on reaching shelter.

  They hastened on without incident as the storm rapidly increased. By the time they reached the farmhouse, they were fighting against the wind. Andrew bade the women go quickly inside while he stabled the horses.

  Mrs. Croaker met them at the door. “Come in!” she cried. “I declare, we are in for a bad one!”

  Mrs. Croaker went to fetch Elena while Rosalie and Megan settled in the parlor and attempted to assuage the fears of five or six schoolgirls, who were feeding their own terror by staring out the window. Two other girls ran down the stairs, shouting to Mrs. Croaker that the sea was “full of huge waves and the water was spilling into the meadows!”

  The front door burst open, and Andrew, followed by Ben Garrick, staggered into the hall. Ben ran into the parlor calling for Elena. At that moment, she appeared on the stairs looking so sad and ill, Rosalie’s heart near broke at the sight.

  “Elena…” she began to say, but Ben seized Elena’s arm and demanded her attention.

  “Elena, I just came from the harbor. The Gremlin is not in her berth!”

  Elena looked completely confused. She gazed about at the faces around her and then out the window at the swaying trees. “Ben, what—?”

  “It’s a hurricane,” Ben cried, “and James Scott’s boat is still at sea!”

  Rosalie stepped forward. “Good God, Ben!”

  “I tried to go out to sea to find him, but the captain and crew of the Thistle would not stir. But now Captain Reed declares he’ll go with me, and I think the two of us can manage the ship. We’ll be off in a moment.”

  “Oh, no! Andrew! Ben!” cried Rosalie. “That would be a mission of certain death! You cannot go!”

  “You cannot!” repeated Megan.

  Elena seemed to have gathered her wits, for she clung to Ben. “You will not go! I won’t let you go!”

  “We must go,” said Andrew quietly. “Have no fear, we’ll return.” He then walked to Rosalie, gathered her in his arms in front of the astounded group around him, and whispered, “I love you. Wait for me. This time I won’t fail you.”

  Rosalie fell on his shoulder crying, but after a moment, he gently moved her away. “Come, Garrick.”

  With a last look at their loved ones, the two men struggled out the door and faced the howling storm.

  Tears were useless, and the three women could only stare at each other, their eyes filled with terror. Mrs. Croaker brought tea and sherry, along with a plate of sandwiches. The schoolgirls settled on the floor and had a picnic, thoroughly enjoying the emergency and too young to understand its possible consequences. The women attempted to calm themselves and each other with remarks about the skill and experience of Ben and his sense of caution.

  “He would risk his own life,” declared Megan, “but I don’t believe he’ll risk Captain Reed’s.”

  Rosalie agreed. “Surely, when they reach the harbor they will ascertain that it would be heedless to go to sea. Night will fall early; they would not be able to see the Gremlin even if they managed to sail to open ocean.”

  Elena was less sanguine. “I believe them both to be extremely brave. They will consider it a matter of honor to do all in their power to rescue their brother officer and his crew.”

  Rosalie sighed, f
or she believed Elena to be correct, although she would not openly agree in front of Megan.

  Lost in thought, the women sat silently. They must endure this night somehow, although none knew how to bear the apprehension of the tragedy possibly hanging over her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tempest

  Kicking their frightened horses onward, Ben and Andrew reached the village of Mystic just as the hurricane began reeling over them with the fury of a savage beast. They slapped the horses on the rump to shoo them into the small barn behind Rosalie’s house. Pinto Pony was leaning against the outside wall of the barn with his eyes rolling in terror, so they pushed him inside as well. They ran to the house to ensure that Willa was safe and found her huddled in the back room of the shop with no light except the feeble rays of one candle.

  “Dr. Garrick!” she cried as the two men burst into the room.

  “Willa, we have only a moment! Stay here until the storm is over; this is probably the safest part of the house.”

  “Where are you going? Are you not staying here with me?”

  Ben hesitated, but it was best if she knew the truth of the situation. “The Gremlin has not returned. We’re taking the Thistle out to try to find James and the crew.”

  Willa gasped.

  Ben took her hand. “Be brave. Your friends are safe at the farm, and we will do everything in our power to find James.”

  Willa nodded, and the two men ran out the door, shouting to each other to be heard over the wind. They fought their way to the pier. The incoming tide had pushed up the river and inundated the wooden walkway, but the Thistle was riding high, tossing back and forth like a child on a swing. Ben jumped aboard and began to hoist the mainsail, while Andrew yanked the mooring lines from the dock cleats and leapt onto the stern. The ship was jerked away from the pier by a savage gust of wind and then a wave slammed her back, throwing Ben to the deck.

  “Let the main go slack!” Andrew shouted. “The wind’s from landward! We can sail out with the jib!”

  Ben clung to the mast with one hand and adjusted the halyard with the other. Andrew scrambled to the tiller and dragged it over. With creaks that sounded like screams, the ship tore away from the pier.

  Once they reached the river channel, they hoisted the mainsail. The wind carried them rapidly toward the sea despite the storm-swollen tide attempting to push the Thistle upriver. The ketch heeled to starboard as they skimmed like a gull over the rolling water. Andrew wrapped himself around the tiller to hold it steady, while Ben hiked out on the port side.

  At the mouth of the river, the ship was lifted and jolted by the mountainous waves in the sound.

  “Get the mains’l down!” Andrew shouted. The tiller was torn from his grip, and the ship spun like a top. Ben charged to starboard as she heeled to port, while Andrew frantically uncleated the main halyard and tore down the mainsail. With the sail down, the ketch tossed on the waves like a cork but did not take on water. The two men clung to the mainmast and attempted to communicate over the roar of the wind and water. Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked the sky. A blast of hail suddenly lambasted them, freezing their hands and face.

  “We’ve got to reef the mains’l!” Andrew called. “Let’s get the jib down!”

  Ben nodded. He took down the jib, and the two men fought against the wind and hail to fold back part of the mainsail and fasten it with grommets.

  “If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to go below and wait it out!” Ben shouted. They both knew they were facing extreme danger. If the Thistle broke apart, they were doomed.

  Pitch dark was now upon them as they began to hoist the reefed mainsail. Ben breathed a silent prayer and took a last look out at the sea. He blinked and looked again.

  “Reed, hold the halyard! There’s a light out there!”

  Andrew peered into the storm and saw a light flickering far out in the sound. He shivered, for he had seen such a light before.

  “What is it?” cried Ben.

  “A ship!” Andrew shouted. “A ship that’s been struck by lightning!”

  “Dear God!” Ben cried. The Gremlin was burning! Somehow they must reach her!

  “Hoist up!” Ben shouted. He stumbled to the tiller and held on, while Andrew cleated the halyard. When the wind hit the reefed mainsail, the ketch surged forward like a leaping leopard, but the sail held. Ben threw his body around the tiller, and they headed seaward.

  As they surged onward, guided by the flickering light from the burning ship, the wind began to lessen.

  “The eye of the hurricane!” Andrew shouted. “We have a bit of grace to save them, but only a bit. When the wind changes, we’ll need to tack.”

  “Shake out the reef!” Ben replied. “We can’t tack in this sea!”

  As they neared the burning ship, the light from the fire showed them James and the crew launching a dinghy and leaping into it. The sinking ship created a vacuum that sucked the dinghy toward it, as the men rowed for their lives.

  “Ahoy! Ahoy!” Ben and Andrew screamed, but whether they were heard, they could not tell. The dinghy kept disappearing behind the waves as Ben fought the tiller to try to reach them without risking a collision that would capsize the dinghy.

  A huge wave rose out of the sea like a monster from hell. It towered over the mast of the Thistle and lifted the dinghy straight up. Ben shouted and jumped away as the boat was thrust nearly onto the deck of the Thistle. Then the wave rolled on, and the dinghy fell into a roiling trough of black water. It blew apart like a dropped watermelon. The men screamed as they were thrown into the surging sea.

  Andrew seized the tiller. Ben threw out a line and shouted for the men to seize it. The illumination from the burning Gremlin was gone, but the thunder and lightning continued. One moment the sky was alight and Ben could see men in the water trying to reach the lifeline, and the next it was pitch black and he could only stare outward in blind helplessness.

  Ben felt a sharp tug on the rope. “Hold on!” he screamed into the dark. He dragged on the line as the Thistle leapt and tossed on the waves. A bolt of lightning showed him the lad Micah Gray clinging to the rope as he was pulled up.

  “Micah, hold on!” Ben shouted. Andrew staggered to the port side to help, and they seized Micah and threw him to the deck.

  Ben and Andrew had not a moment to assist Micah, and the boy lay on the deck gasping for breath. Ben threw the line back out, ignoring his raw and bleeding hands. He shouted until he was hoarse. Finally, a flash of lightning showed two men reaching the rope. First mate Linus Briggs was next dragged aboard and then, to Ben’s relief, James Scott. The crewmen lay shaking on the deck as Ben and Andrew hoisted the mainsail.

  The wind began to increase; the eye of the storm had passed. The hull of the Thistle screeched as it was battered and rammed. The waves lifted and dropped her, lifted and dropped her, until Ben was sure she would break apart at any second.

  The lightning was their only hope to reach shore, for they had no stars to guide them. At every streak of light, the men sighted the shoreline and Andrew at the tiller reoriented the ketch. They had no idea where they would land for they had been blown far from the mouth of the river, but they headed landward, praying to avoid a rocky shore that would break up the hull.

  ****

  Willa’s head jerked up, and she realized she had fallen asleep and been dreaming. In her dream, she had been running but could not escape, and she shook her head to clear away the terror such dreams leave behind. The howling wind rattled the windows and doors of the Book & Candle. A crash from upstairs made Willa cry out and huddle against the wall of the little room.

  The front door of the shop began to bang, and she cried out again. Gradually, she became aware someone was struggling to open it. Relieved, she ran to the door and pushed it to assist the person who was pulling from the outside. The wind caught the door and yanked it from both their hands, but the visitor stumbled into the shop. Willa gasped; it was the Duke of Simsbury.

  “Mis
s McCrea! I could not rest until I assured myself that you were safe!”

  “Oh!” cried Willa, “I’m so very glad to see you! I’m all alone, and the storm is so frightening!”

  She burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.

  ****

  At the farm, Elena had also fallen asleep. She was on a sofa with a schoolgirl cuddled on either side of her. The two girls were asleep, and the others were sleeping on the floor, covered in quilts and blankets.

  Megan was in the kitchen with Mrs. Croaker, drinking coffee in an effort to stay awake. She felt exhausted in mind and body, but it would be unforgivable for her to drift into sleep with her brother facing the terrible danger of the sea. And James Scott! What of poor James Scott, who had screwed up his courage the night before and asked her if he could court her. She had had no inkling of his feelings, and the thought of Willa’s broken heart distressed her so greatly, it drowned out any other emotion. She glanced at Mrs. Croaker, who dozed in her chair by the fire. Megan pulled in a shuddering breath; sleep would be an escape from all her cares. She leaned back and shut her eyes, but at that moment Rosalie entered the kitchen.

  “Megan, you should lie down on the other settee and sleep a bit. I’ll wake you in a few hours or earlier if there is any news.”

  “What of you, Miss Murdoch? Could you not sleep a bit?”

  “No, I’m not tired; my nerves are all a-jangle. Bramble does not share my anxiety; he’s sprawled on the floor among the schoolgirls.”

  Megan attempted a smile. “Bramble is wise. We’ll all need energy and strength in the morning, come what may.”

  Rosalie nodded. “Go rest, Megan. Be wise like the wolf.”

  Megan took her advice and settled on the other sofa in the parlor. She became aware that the sound of the wind was diminishing, and at first her heart leapt with hope that the storm was over. Then she realized the eye of the hurricane was above them. As she drifted into sleep, she imagined a great eye looking down at all the tiny human beings in their frail wooden houses, and she wondered what the great eye saw as it looked out to sea.