Surrender the Heart

by Marylu Tyndall

  Or Marianne to get stuck aboard Noah’s ship.

  Or her to become a slave to a mad captain.

  Halting, she sat back and gazed at the rays of morning sunlight reflecting off Daniel’s dark hair and surrounding him with light as if he were precious to God.

  While she remained in the shadows.

  “I fear you have the wrong lady, Daniel, I’m just a plain, ordinary woman. I am nobody special. And I won’t do anything important.” She sighed. “I’m terrified of water. I can’t take care of my mother and sister properly, and I can’t even keep a man’s interest long enough so he’ll marry me.”

  Daniel snapped the hair from his face and gazed at her forlornly. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but there ain’t nobody ordinary in God’s Kingdom.”

  Marianne held up the Bible. “I’m not like the people in here: Moses, Abraham, Elijah, Paul, all great men that God used.”

  “And Daniel.” He stopped scrubbing and smiled. “He was a prophet.”

  “Yes, he was.” She wiped a smudge of dirt from his face with her thumb and remembered her Bible lesson to the men on board Noah’s ship. Daniel in the lion’s den. “And that is why we must always have faith, even in the midst of hopeless times.” She could still hear her voice so full of feigned conviction—a masquerade of the strong woman she longed to be.

  “And I am God’s prophet, too. He told me so.” Daniel’s brown eyes sparkled.

  Marianne moved to another spot and continued her scrubbing. The boy’s childish innocence warmed her heart. Let him have his dreams, his illusions, his hopes. They were probably the only things keeping him alive on this horrid ship.

  “What of Esther?” he asked.

  Marianne searched her mind for the story her mother had read to her long ago. Ah yes, the queen. “She was beautiful.” Not like Marianne.

  “Rahab?”

  The old stories flooded her mind like rays of sunshine on a cloudy day. Rahab was the harlot who hid the spies of Israel so they could defeat Jericho. Definitely not like Marianne. “She was brave.”

  “I know what story is like yours.” Daniel’s eyes widened with delight. “How about Gideon? His clan was the weakest in the tribe of Manasseh, and he was the least in his father’s house. Yet God used him to defeat the Midianites with only three hundred men.”

  Shaking her head, Marianne grabbed the bottle of oil and shifted to a fresh spot on the deck. “I know you mean well, Daniel. And I’m sure God has great plans for you. But my life has been fraught with tragedy. I can never seem to rise above the struggles, to conquer them like others stronger than I.” She continued her scrubbing. “I fear God will do what He wills in this world and in my life, and I will always be what I am—a plain, ordinary girl.”

  She circled the rag over the wooden planks. Round and round like the monotonous circles of her life until her wrists ached and perspiration beaded on her neck. Tears burned behind her eyes. She could not fathom where they came from or why they appeared. Something about Daniel’s words, his enthusiasm, his faith, tugged upon a yearning in her heart—a longing, beneath her bitterness, to be something more.

  He touched her hand, stopping her. “You don’t think God loves you, do you?”

  Halting, Marianne drew a deep breath and looked away. She’d never truly considered the question.

  Daniel shook his head. Strands of hair hung down his cheek. “Even your name means that God loves you. Marianne, taken from Mary, the mother of our Lord. She was an ordinary girl from an ordinary family. And look how important she was in God’s plan.”

  She gazed at him, astounded by his wisdom. But she could not allow these fanciful notions to take root. For if she did, if she started to believe God truly loved her, if she believed she was special and that He had a plan for her life, then the next disappointment, the next tragedy would rob her of her will to go on.

  And then she would end up facedown in the Patapsco River like her father.

  “Of course, I know God loves everyone.” She shrugged, hoping to shrug away her tears as well, along with the hope that had ignited them.

  “You know it up here.” Daniel pointed to his head. “But not in here.” His hand flew to his heart.

  Pouring more oil on her cloth, she leaned over and buffed the wood into a shine. “I believe I’m going to heaven, but I expect nothing else from this life.”

  “You’ll see that you’re wrong.” Daniel smiled. “When God tells me something it always comes true. He told me a beautiful woman and three men would come on the ship and save me and my da—save me.”

  Beautiful woman? Marianne chuckled. Now she was certain she was not the woman in Daniel’s prophecy. Looking into his hope-filled—no, faith-filled—eyes, she wished with all her heart that she could make his vision come true. But she couldn’t. All she could hope to do was to try to alleviate some of Noah and Luke’s discomfort during their punishments. A glorious thought occurred to her which might be the solution she sought, but she couldn’t do it alone.

  She brushed the hair from his face. “Daniel, do you know where Lieutenant Reed is?”

  He gave her a perplexed look and glanced out the window. “He may be in the wardroom, miss. He likes to have a cup o’ tea about now. What do you want him for?”

  Though Lieutenant Reed’s stiff, portentous exterior would normally dissuade her from seeking him out, the expression on his face last night and the way he shifted his feet uncomfortably when the captain had unleashed his temper led her to believe there may exist a smidgeon of compassion behind his stuffy facade.

  “I want to ask his help to lighten the captain’s sentences upon Mr. Brenin and Mr. Heaton.”

  Daniel’s exuberance of only a moment ago faded beneath an anxious look. “I doubt he’ll help you, miss. ‘Sides, when the captain issues a punishment, it stands. I ain’t never seen”—his eyes snapped to hers— “Oh, I forgot to give you Mr. Noah’s message.”

  “Message?” She ignored the tiny leap of her heart. “When did he give it to you?”

  “At supper last night before those sailors stirred up trouble. He asked how you were. Seemed real concerned as to your welfare.”

  The statement uttered in such innocent sincerity sent warmth down to her toes. She shook it off, had to shake it off, but it stubbornly remained in light of Noah’s brave appeal to the captain.

  Daniel laid his cloth aside and stood. “He wants you to keep your ears open for anything you hear about where the ship is heading or any plans the captain has.”

  “He wants me to spy?” she whispered, excitement tingling over her skin.

  “Aye, miss.” He glanced out the door. “An’ I can deliver messages back and forth between you.”

  Marianne’s mind whirled with the possibilities.

  The ship bucked, nearly spilling her bottle of oil. She grabbed it and steadied her stomach against a wave of nausea.

  “I ‘ave to be goin’ now,” Daniel said.

  Marianne struggled to her feet. “Thank you for your help, Daniel. And for the Bible.”

  “My pleasure, miss.” Then, after a friendly wave, he disappeared out the door.

  Tossing the cloth aside in favor of a more important task, Marianne left the captain’s cabin and descended one level for the officer’s wardroom. Air, heavy with the smell of tar and damp wood, filled her nose—a not altogether unpleasant scent. Or perhaps she was just growing accustomed to it. Making her way down the companionway, she kept both hands raised, ready to brace herself against the bulkhead should the ship try to knock her from her feet. She couldn’t help but smile at her growing knowledge of the names assigned to parts of the ship—names she had not known a month ago.

  Rap rap rap. She tapped on the open door of the wardroom and put on her best smile for Lieutenant Reed as he glanced up from a steaming cup of tea. His brow furrowed. “Are you lost, Miss Denton?”

  “No, sir. May I have a word with you, please?”

  He scanned the room, no doubt checking to see if they
were alone. Small cabins that were enclosed by little more than stretched canvas on wooden frames, lined either side of the oblong table at which he sat. Officers’ cabins, Marianne surmised. A cupboard at one end held plates, cups, and cutlery as well as a variety of swords, muskets, pistols, and axes.

  “Make it quick, miss. You should not be down here.” Lieutenant Reed stood, scraping his chair over the deck. He adjusted his black coat, the three gold buttons on each of his cuffs and one button on each collar glimmering in the light of a lantern that swayed overhead.

  She clasped her hands together and took a timid step within. “It is about Mr. Heaton and Mr. Brenin.”

  She detected a flinch on his otherwise staunch demeanor. “And?”

  “You know as well as I they do not deserve their punishment.”

  “It does not matter what I know or don’t know.” He snorted and plucked his cocked hat from the table. “All that matters on this ship is what the captain says.”

  Marianne twisted the ring on her finger. “Even if it is unjust and ruthless?”

  “You would do well to curb your tongue, miss. The captain is not above issuing the same punishments for a quarrelsome woman.”

  She studied the stiff man for a moment, gauging him. She knew Noah had risked punishment for her. Could she do less for him? Something deep within Mr. Reed’s hazel eyes told her he agreed with her, despite the indifferent shield he attempted to hide behind.

  “You know as well as I that the captain is not himself,” she whispered.

  A flicker of understanding darted across his eyes before they glanced away. “I know no such thing, miss.” He tugged on his neckerchief. “I could report you for such subversive words.”

  “Then do so, Lieutenant.” Marianne no longer cared. If she were to suffer for trying to correct a terrible injustice, then so be it.

  Lieutenant Reed shifted his stance. “Order must be maintained on board, miss, or we would be unable to defend our country. There must be a commander aboard this ship just as there must be a king over a country or chaos would ensue.”

  “Order, yes, but cruelty, no.” Marianne gripped the back of one of the chairs. “And permit me to correct you, sir, but chaos ensues when leaders wield their power without impunity. As is happening on this ship.”

  Lieutenant Reed studied her and for a moment she thought she’d won him to her side. But then he lengthened his stance and settled his bicorn atop his head. “I can do nothing for you.”

  “Will you at least allow me to bring some food and water to Mr. Heaton?”

  Hazel eyes sparked at her from beneath the pointed edge of his hat. “What you do in the middle of the night is of no concern to me.” One cultured brow rose slightly before he marched out of the room.

  CHAPTER 15

  Noah stretched his stiff shoulders and legs, trying to loosen the tight knots that held his muscles captive. Taking his place in a line of sailors on the main deck, he waited to receive a cup of grog. He’d been scouring the deck for forty-three hours. His head pounded, and his eyelids felt like iron pilings. One glance at his hands told him they were white, wrinkly, and raw from the incessant scrubbing. A flurry of hot wind swirled around him, tugging at his hair and cooling the sweat on his brow and neck. He drew in a deep breath, relishing the smell of the sea. Just another twenty-nine hours. He could do it … He had to do it.

  As he slogged forward in line, Noah felt Miss Denton’s presence on deck. He had no idea how, but when he glanced over his shoulder, there she was. She seemed to be looking for someone. Their eyes met and for a moment he thought he saw concern flicker within them. For him?

  A midshipman, Blake, if Noah remembered, ordered the boatswain to blow his pipe. “For all you men who cannot read, Miss Denton has offered to read your letters from home without cost before you go below for your evening mess.”

  Read letters? Noah nearly gasped. Why would she do that? She hated the British. A sailor rolled a barrel over for her, and she perched upon it and adjusted her skirts. The setting sun set her hair aflame like glistening cinnamon and cast an ethereal glow over her radiant skin. She smiled at the men forming a circle around her.

  Grabbing his ladle of grog, Noah downed it and returned to the foredeck where he’d left off scouring the oak planks. At least they allowed him food and drink. He couldn’t say the same for Luke. He cringed at what the man must be enduring chained below in the dark, dank hold.

  Picking up the holystone, Noah continued his work while keeping an eye on Miss Denton. Truth be told, he found it difficult to keep his eyes off her. One by one, the men approached her. With a smile, she took each man aside and read the contents of his missive in private. Visibly moved, some of the sailors clutched their letters to their chests as they ambled away while others broke into tears upon hearing what their loved ones had to say. What astounded Noah the most was the kind gestures and gentle way she addressed each man—each British man.

  His thoughts drifted to Miss Priscilla. Memories of their brief time together focused more clearly in his mind. Her dismissive, commanding attitude toward the servants in her home, the way she jutted out her chin and looked the other way when they passed the impoverished in the city streets.

  Truth be told, in light of Miss Denton, Priscilla’s beauty began to fade.

  Noah’s gaze latched upon Lieutenant Garrick, who stood at the helm of the quarterdeck, his beady eyes riveted upon Miss Denton. What Noah saw in those eyes made his stomach curdle—a look he’d seen in many men’s eyes when they sought only one thing from a woman.

  A surge of protectiveness rose within Noah that surprised him. But how could he protect her from a man who wielded nearly as much power as the captain himself?

  Soon, the group of sailors surrounding Miss Denton dissipated, and a bell rang from the forecastle. Noah counted the chimes as they echoed over the deck. Eight bells. Which meant it was four in the afternoon, the end of one watch and the start of another.

  But that made no difference to Noah. He must stay at his task.

  Miss Denton rose and started across the deck. She gazed up at Noah ever so briefly—too briefly—when Mr. Weller approached her, holding out a missive he must have had on him when he’d been impressed. Noah frowned. Why hadn’t he trusted Noah to read it aboard the Fortune?

  One of the sailors bumped into Mr. Weller in passing. The same pock-faced man who’d caused trouble with them below. Weller stumbled from the impact, but kept his ground. “Monsters are hatched not birthed. You ain’t got no family.” He chortled and gazed around him, eliciting the chuckles of other sailors.

  Weller glared at the man and curled his fists. The scars running down his face and neck reddened. Do not strike him, my friend. Noah silently pleaded. Or you’ll end up like me, or worse. Leaping to his feet, Noah scurried down the foredeck ladder, shoving men aside in order to save his friend from doing something that would warrant a lashing.

  Miss Denton’s voice shot across the deck, halting him. “You will take that back this instant, Mr …. Mr.…”

  The sailor froze, studied her for a moment, and dragged off his hat. “Wilcox, miss.”

  “Do you judge a man by his scars, Mr. Wilcox? Or do you judge a man by his character?” She pointed at Weller. “These scars are evidence of Mr. Weller’s great bravery during battle. Have you any to compare?”

  The man’s spiteful eyes narrowed as Noah made his way toward Miss Denton. Yet despite the fury storming on the man’s face and his defiant stance, Miss Denton held her ground. She placed her hands atop her hips. “Apologize at once.”

  The man hesitated, spit to the side, then spun on his heels and marched away.

  Releasing a sigh, Noah approached her. Admiration welled within him, along with the realization that the woman he’d known as a child no longer existed. He wanted to tell her that she should curb that reckless tongue of hers on board this ship. He wanted to tell her that she was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

  But the loud shout of a petty
officer behind him halted him. “Get back to work, Brenin! Or the cap’n will hear of this!”

  Miss Denton gathered her skirts and their eyes met. She smiled at him before she descended the companionway ladder, and Noah’s heart soared in the brightness of that smile.

  Marianne crept forward, peering through the gloom of the sailor’s berth below deck. Her toe struck something sharp, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Daniel turned and laid a finger over his mouth then proceeded around a corner and into a large area filled with hammocks that swayed back and forth with each movement of the ship. At well past midnight, Marianne hoped most of the crew would be asleep. Her fears were allayed when nothing but snoring, occasional grunts, and the creaking of the ship combined into a discordant chant. Gesturing for her to wait, Daniel disappeared among the oscillating gray masses. The lantern the young boy held cast eerie shadows over the scene as he wove between the sleeping mounds, making them look like giant cocoons—cocoons out of which woman-eating insects could burst forth at any minute. A chill overcame Marianne at the thought, and she hugged herself. Her nose curled at the stench of sweat and filth that hung in the room like a cloud.