Charity's Cross

by Marylu Tyndall

  “By all means, Mr. Ballard. By all means.”

  But she didn’t miss the spiteful glance he cast over his shoulder toward Elias.

  ♥♥♥

  Grumbling to himself, Nelson plunged into the jungle in search of firewood. What a numbhead he was. As soon as he’d seen Lord Villemont’s ship, he’d had come up with the plan to hack through the rigging—secretly of course—in an attempt to slow the Restoration down and hinder her steering. That way Villemont had a better chance to overtake them.

  He slapped a mosquito on his arm and picked up a piece of wood. The sooner Nelson handed Miss Westcott over to Villemont, the sooner he’d have his reward. And the sooner he could get off this preacher’s brig, invest in land somewhere, and never take another order from no one.

  But he hadn’t counted on the storm hitting them straight on. Devil’s blood! He’d almost cost them all their lives. He had to be more careful from here on out. More cunning, smarter. Patient. Not one of his best qualities. After all, he’d left word in Kingston that they were heading to Barbados. Once they landed, if Captain Dutton took the lady to his sister’s home, Nelson only needed to meet up with Villemont and lead him there. Problem was, he didn’t know the sister’s married name nor the location of the estate. But he knew just who would disclose such information.

  He picked up another chunk of wood and smiled. Serves that preacher right for falling for a murderess! Lud! Soon she’ll be swinging from a gibbet and ole Nelson will be counting his coins.

  ♥♥♥

  No wonder the Scriptures say that jealousy is as cruel as the grave. Elias fisted his hands and stared after Ballard and Miss Westcott.

  “Most of the men are ashore, Cap’n,” Josiah stepped beside him. “Wit’ enough supplies to last the night. ’Cept those repairin’ the riggin’.”

  “Thank you, Josiah.” Elias tore his gaze from Charity and glanced at the Restoration bobbing in the turquoise waters of the tiny inlet. What a masterful vessel. He rarely got such a view of her as the rising sun warmed her with a blanket of gold. Nearly surrounding the brig, palms and ficus sprang from creamy sands and waved in the strong breeze left over from yesterday’s squall. Sodden sand and the drip-drop of water from leaves in the jungle behind him provided further evidence of the storm’s passing.

  To his left, Gage and a few sailors were erecting a shelter of bamboo and palm leaves over Eddy, who, thanks be to God, was breathing steady now. Though he hadn’t yet woken.

  “What you gonna do about the torn riggin’?”

  “Seems we have a traitor on board. Though I can’t imagine why anyone would put the brig at risk.”

  Josiah only grunted.

  Elias eyed him. “Are we of the same mind?”

  The black man shrugged. “He’s the only new crew member.”

  Nelson. Elias glanced down shore where he’d seen the man disappear. Leaves parted and he reappeared with an armload of wood, oddly casting a sideways glance at Charity before proceeding toward camp. “If it was him, I can’t figure out his motive.” A breeze whirled around them, stirring sand at their feet and causing palm fronds to sing.

  “Post extra guards on the brig tonight,” Elias said. “We can’t afford for this to happen again. And, blast it all!” He shifted his boots in the sand. “I need those repairs done quickly. I fear each day puts my sister in more danger.”

  “Aye, Cap’n. And I’ll keep a weather eye on Nelson just in case.”

  Elias released a sigh and crossed arms over his chest, unaware he was staring at Charity and Ballard again until Josiah said, “The lady has a hold on you.”

  “Aye. Nay.” Elias snorted. “I don’t know. One minute she’s kind and engaging, the next she makes it quite clear she loathes that I’m a preacher, that I don’t drink, and as far as I can tell, that I want to protect her.” Baffling woman. “Now she seems quite taken with Mr. Ballard.” He glanced their way again. “Bah! Where did he find that gown?” More importantly, why hadn’t Elias thought to search for one in the hold? Regardless, he never thought any woman could be so stunning in such common attire—simple homespun that only enhanced her natural beauty.

  Josiah chuckled. “Why, I never thought I’d see you jealous, Cap’n.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been.” Elias smiled. “The woman drives me mad.”

  “Perhaps a good kind o’ mad, Cap’n?” Morning sun beamed off Josiah’s white teeth and twinkled in his eye.

  Elias chuckled. “She certainly intrigues me. But after what happened with Rachel, I must find a woman who’ll make my family proud.”

  “There are many Godly women who’ll make your family proud.”

  “Aye, I’ve met quite a few. But none who heat my blood like this one.”

  “Ah. It’s passion you want.”

  Elias glanced at his friend. “Is that so wrong?”

  “No. God created it for our pleasure. Wit’in boundaries o’ course.” Josiah closed his eyes to the warming sun. “But this lady… are you sure, Cap’n? She don’t seem too Godly to me.”

  Elias glanced her way again. “Something happened to her to make her turn away from Him. She won’t say. But at least I know she’s not lying to me about her faith.” Lying, he would never tolerate. “In truth, I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but she won’t allow me.”

  “People have to know they need help before they ask for it. God is a gentleman. He never forces hisself on anyone. He just makes the offer and waits ’til they accept. You do the same with Miss Westcott. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

  Elias rubbed the back of his neck. “How did you get so wise, my friend?”

  “Traveling so many years wit’ your father. And more importantly”—he patted his vest pocket—“learning these Holy Words.”

  ♥♥♥

  Begging off with a need for privacy, Charity finally relieved herself of Mr. Ballard’s company. It took him a minute to fully understand her meaning, but he finally sped off, sporting a blush.

  Pushing aside leaves the size of men’s hips, she entered another world…one so different from anything she’d seen back home. Lush green plants and vines of all shapes and sizes—quite large by comparison with England’s flora—surrounded her in a maze as tightly wound as a ball of yarn. Birds in every imaginable color flitted from branch to branch above her, singing happy tunes. The ground was soft and mushy, and the air was saturated with the scent of earthy loam and life. She drew in a deep breath and inched forward, digging through greenery.

  One glance over her shoulder told her Elias remained in deep conversation with Josiah while the rest of the crew set up camp or picked fruit from trees. Elias had informed her that, for her safety and propriety, she’d have to return to the ship to sleep. Hence, she wanted to spend as much time as possible free from the confining walls of her cabin.

  She didn’t plan to go far, perhaps seek out a creek or pond to wash in. All the while exploring this fascinating world. Although, as she passed a rather large lizard with a streak of red on his head staring at her from his perch on a trunk, she wondered if that was a good idea.

  As the sun rose higher, perspiration slid down her neck and back. Despite air so thick, it choked her, she relished being alone, away from all the men on the ship and away from the way Elias made her insides twist and turn in a most pleasurable way.

  The trickling sound of water drew her to the right. Shoving through foliage, she pushed a final leaf aside and a small creek appeared. A ray of sunshine forced its way through the canopy and lit the water in a ribbon of sparkling silver as it splashed happily over mossy rocks, winding its way through the jungle.

  Dropping to her knees, Charity scooped mouthful after mouthful to her lips, until, finally satisfied, she sat back and breathed a huge sigh. What she wouldn’t give to strip off her clothes and sit in the creek, though it seemed only a few feet deep at most. But she couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t wander by. So, she did her best to splash water over her face and neck
, then removed her shoes and stockings and dipped her feet in the swirling brook.

  Nothing had ever felt so good. At least not until she unpinned her bun, hiked up her skirts, and dipped her hair in the water. She could almost feel the sweat and salt leech from each strand and float away down the creek. Afterward, she squeezed her hair dry and used her fingers as a comb, chuckling at how far she’d fallen.

  From the daughter of a British Admiral to the wife of a viscount to a destitute maid traveling about the Spanish Main—on a preacher’s ship, of all things! And bathing in a creek! Without benefit of even a brush or comb. Or mirror! What she must look like. She lowered onto a large rock, fighting back despair. Every single dream she’d ever had as a child had been trampled—over and over until not a spark of life remained. Not only that, but she’d ended up in a far worse situation than when she’d started—her life crushed beyond recognition and shoved so deep in the mud she would never find her way out.

  She would ask God why—if she thought He cared.

  Her sisters came to mind, and a longing welled within her to see them again. Especially Hope, to whom she owed the greatest of apologies. If her suspicions were correct, something horrible had happened between Hope and Lord Villemont, something unimaginable, something Charity had refused to believe. But now something she realized must be true.

  Would it be a happy reunion? Even if her father was there? Or would he—being a man trained to follow rules—berate her and turn her over to the authorities? Could she even risk seeing him? Yet, what choice did she have? She needed money to travel north and start a printing shop—money to care for her and her child until Charity could start making a profit.

  Something moved to her right, and she leapt off the boulder. A hairy leg appeared from under a leaf, followed by seven more as a spider as big as her hand skittered across the clearing. Heart pounding, she glanced up where the sun’s rays speared the jungle from the west. How long had she been there? Vapors! Brushing off her skirts, she started back the way she’d come. She hadn’t traveled that far. All she need do is follow the sounds of the waves back to shore.

  But there were no sounds of waves. Only the warble and buzz of the jungle. A different warble and buzz than she’d heard before—from different birds and different insects as shadows crept from behind trees with the fading light. After what seemed like an hour, with darkness encroaching and no shore in sight, fear sliced through her.

  “Elias!” she shouted. “Elias!” Surely the island wasn’t very large, and he would hear her and come running. That’s what he loved to do, wasn’t it? Rescue her. And though she hated herself for needing him again, she found terror a powerful motivator.

  Something large scampered across the trail. Screaming, she darted forward, waving her arms, and ran straight into a jumble of sticky threads. A spider web. Ugg! She screeched and batted the hideous fibers from her face and hair.

  A deep guttural growl rumbled through the jungle.

  Breath in her throat, she dove into a tangle of greenery, barreling away from the sound, and emerged into a small clearing. She halted and listened for the sound of waves. But all she heard were footsteps, dozens of footsteps. Lights dotted the dark jungle, growing larger. Thank God.

  “I’m here! Over here!” she shouted.

  Ten dark-skinned men wearing nothing but loincloths and brandishing lit torches and spears stepped into the clearing.

  Chapter 18

  “You let her traipse into the jungle alone?” Elias speared a hand through his hair and took up a pace before Ballard. “I assumed you were with her, protecting her.” Elias had rowed out to the brig to assist with the repairs and hadn’t noticed when Ballard returned to camp. In truth, he’d been so jealous, he’d kept his gaze from wandering down the beach, knowing if he saw Miss Westcott conversing and laughing with Ballard, it would only cause him further distress. Besides, he was focused on the task at hand and especially on keeping an eye on Nelson as he managed the repairs.

  Ballard frowned. “She had to use the necessary. What should I have done?”

  “Waited for her.” Elias growled. “Gone after her when she didn’t return.”

  “I thought … I got distracted searching for fruit with Leggy.” The muscles in Ballard’s jaw bunched as he gazed toward the jungle where she’d disappeared. “I didn’t realize … I didn’t know you wanted me to watch over her.”

  “Of course I—” Elias started to shout, but then halted his pace, along with his tongue. The blame was all his. Charity was under his protection, and he hadn’t handed off the responsibility to anyone else.

  Josiah groaned. “I shoulda seen her gone, Cap’n.” He’d been the first one to notice and promptly shouted from shore until he got Elias’ attention.

  “’Tis only been a few hours.” Ballard plucked his sword from the sand where he’d thrust it earlier. “She might be right around the bend. I’ll go check.” And off he dashed, kicking up sand as he went.

  Foolish lady. She had no idea the dangers lurking in these tropical jungles. “Gather a search party,” Elias ordered Josiah. “Five men. Tell them to arm themselves and bring water and lanterns.”

  Within minutes, Ballard returned empty handed and joined the group just as they forged into the jungle, Elias at the lead.

  Dear God, please keep her safe and help me to find her.

  ♥♥♥

  Too terrified to think, to speak, or even breathe, Charity stumbled down the trail, following—or rather, being pulled—by the native in front of her. Rough rope scraped her wrists, paining her with each yank, while the tip of a spear prompted her forward from behind. Branches and leaves slapped her face and neck and tore the cheap fabric of her gown. Captured by natives! ’Twas too horrifying to believe. Too horrifying to wrap her mind around. Surely God was punishing her for killing her husband. For taking matters into her own hands when He wouldn’t help her during the years she’d cried out to him.

  Or mayhap, He just hated her.

  Her feet ached, scratches covered her arms beneath torn sleeves, and her heart felt like a frozen chunk in her chest. Elias had no idea where she was, where to look for her, or what happened. Why hadn’t he warned her there were natives about? Most likely because she hadn’t given him the chance. Most likely because she didn’t want to rely on him for anything. Nay, she wanted to rely on herself—the only person she could truly count on. Yet apparently she couldn’t be trusted either.

  The natives, who’d been silent during the trek, now chattered excitedly, laughing one minute, and arguing the next. They quickened the pace, dragging her along. Her wrists and legs burned. Her feet throbbed. Her mind grew numb with fear. And just when she thought she would faint, flickering lights appeared ahead, and they dragged her into a large clearing. She blinked to clear her spinning vision. A dozen different-sized thatched huts spread along the bed of a creek, while a giant fire pit stood in the center of the clearing, around which several bare-breasted women cooked over iron pots. Torches flickered from atop poles, casting light on the naked children running to and fro as men of all ages greeted the returning party. All eyes locked on Charity. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t get past the lump of terror in her throat.

  What now? Were they going to ravish her? Marry her off to one of these men? Force her into slavery, or … God forbid, cook and eat her? She stared at brew bubbling in an iron pot and her heart vaulted. If only she hadn’t listened to the horrific tales of cannibalism and torture that had made their way to Portsmouth.

  Before she could faint, she was pulled through the village to stand before one of the larger huts. A man emerged who must be the chief due to the number of feathers and shells tied in his long black hair. Only the gray streaking the strands and the lines on his face indicated his age, for he assessed her with youthful eyes filled with a wisdom she didn’t expect.

  Unfortunately, he seemed pleased with what he saw, for a slow grin overtook his mouth, revealing teeth that had been shaved to points. He questione
d the men who’d caught her. Their replies started a rather animated and passionate discussion involving nearly the entire tribe, reminding Charity of the haggling she’d witnessed at street markets on the lower east side of Portsmouth. Only this time, apparently, she was the item being auctioned.

  This can’t be happening. She couldn’t breathe. Inhale…exhale…come on, Charity! Gagging at the odors of sweat, blood, and a bitter meaty scent filling her lungs, she dove into her song, her safe place…

  The maid was in the garden

  Hanging out the clothes…

  The men continued to quibble, including a few of the women, who forced their way to the front and pointed at Charity as if she’d committed adultery with their husbands.

  Finally, one of the men who’d captured her stepped forward, silenced the mob with a wave of his hand, and proceeded to give a speech that must have made sense to the chief, for he nodded his approval. Which only sent the rest of them into another bout of ardent squabbling.

  The chief quieted them down with a shout that surely must have been heard on the other side of the island. The man who’d spoken grabbed Charity and dragged her away as two women chased after him, shouting what surely was obscenities. Dread sank her already deflated stomach as she realized she would either become this man’s meal. Or worse.

  His wife.

  She couldn’t feel her arms anymore. Numbness crept across her shoulders and down her back, and she wished it would invade her heart. Why, when no matter how hard she tried, she always ended up under the power of a man? The native pinched her arm tighter, and Charity tugged on his grip and raised her foot to kick him, but he leapt aside and only tightened his grasp. She punched his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. She was about to punch it again when he released her arm and grabbed her hair instead.

  The women behind them laughed.

  Pain spiked her scalp, leaving her powerless to do naught but follow him.