The Secret of Her Guardian Sailor: An Inspirational Historical Romance Novel

by Chloe Carley

  Not bothering to wait for Noah, she took off toward the wagon. Plump chickens roosted in the shade as flustered songbirds battled for a sliver of darkness to hide in. Some of the birdcages were empty but most were full of tiny, brightly colored creatures who chirped shrilly, longing to be set free. Tears sprang to her eyes as she lifted her finger to the bars, the birds fluttering toward her.

  She drew away, looking into the larger enclosures. Lizards and snakes basked in the sunlight, startling her half out of her skin. She had never seen reptiles before and did not quite know what to make of them. They did not seem real. Next to them, stuck right out on the far side of the wagon, her heart broke at the sight of two small monkeys with their arms wrapped around one another. They quaked and shivered, their fur rangy and threadbare. She sank down onto her haunches and peered into the small enclosure, clucking like a mother hen in an attempt to engage their attention. They turned to her with mournful eyes, one letting out a sorrowful squeak that left her in pieces.

  “How much are these?” Rachel asked the young man in charge of the cart. He looked as desolate as his animals.

  He frowned, saying something she did not understand.

  “Mr. Sharpleton, kindly ask this gentleman how much the animals cost,” she said as Noah appeared.

  He cast her a dubious look. “Which ones?”

  “All of them.”

  Noah sighed and spoke to the man in that same, melodic language. The man replied in kind, a surprised expression on his exhausted face.

  “He says he does not know. Nobody has ever asked him that before.”

  Rachel glanced down at her hands and fixed upon the ring of diamonds and rubies set in a band of gold. Her father had bought it for her, shortly before his departure. A guilt gift, or so she had called it. It was a beautiful, expensive piece of jewelry, but it held no sentimental value in her heart. Quite the contrary. Every time she looked at it, she was reminded of her years of solitude with no family to keep her company.

  “Might he accept this ring as payment?” she asked, gesturing to it.

  Noah arched his eyebrow. “I do not think you ought to be giving up your jewels for these beasts, Miss Faulks. I hate to say it, but most of these are half-dead and will not last much longer.”

  “I do not care for their condition, Mr. Sharpleton,” she replied curtly. “I wish to purchase all of them if he will accept this ring as payment. It is worth a great deal for the diamonds and rubies are real. The gold, also.”

  Noah turned and spoke with the young man once more. Rachel did not need to know what had been said to understand the man’s reaction. He glanced from Noah to her, his gaze falling upon the ring. A moment later, his face lit up, tears brimming in his eyes, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he reached for Noah’s hand and shook it vigorously. Evidently, the ring was enough.

  “He says you may have them all and the cart itself, if you so please,” Noah explained, a nervous chuckle bubbling up.

  “I only wish to have the creatures and their cages,” she said. “Although, might you ask him to set free the animals that have their habitat nearby. I would hate to take them away from the terrain they are familiar with unless they are desperately sick.”

  A few more flurries of conversation ensued before they appeared to settle on an agreement. The young man took the cages with the lizards and snakes inside and set them on the edge of the scorched ground, opening the door for them to run free. He did the same with some of the birdcages, leaving the doors wide open so the flustered creatures could fly away. As soon as the animals realized what was happening, they darted out and disappeared into the landscape, never to be seen again. Rachel watched the magnificent little birds as they hovered and soared above the shimmering oasis of Tarfaya, seeking out the trees and the cool crevices of shade where they might hide and live out their lives in peace.

  Only four cages remained. The first held the two shivering monkeys, their fur black and white, with long tails that curled over like a butterfly’s proboscis. The center of their faces were bare, almost like a human’s, with white tufts around their chins that reminded Rachel of wise old men. The second was a large birdcage, painted white, which held a jeweled parrot inside. It bristled as Rachel touched her hand to the bars, ruffling it’s green and red feathers. In the third, an enormous bat dangled from a wooden ledge, it’s furry face buried between the leathery membrane of it’s folded wings. Chunks of fruit dirtied the cage floor with little bites taken out of each one. Meanwhile, in the fourth and final cage, Rachel peered inside to find three tiny, furry creatures, patterned with bands of white, black, and gray. Their tails were fluffy, their ears pricked up, and their little pink noses wiggled this way and that as they sniffed the air. One jumped down to the bottom of the cage, spreading out its arms to reveal pockets of furry skin that seemed to catch the air as they sailed downward.

  “Can you ask this young man to help us bring the animals back to the Emerald?” Rachel said, wondering how she was going to explain all of this to Captain Frodsham. He would not be best pleased.

  “Are you certain about this, Miss Faulks?” Noah replied.

  She nodded. “They deserve to live, Mr. Sharpleton. I will not leave them here, to waste away in this awful heat.”

  “Very well.” He cast her a mischievous smile. “I can only imagine what your father will say when he greets you at his door. He expected his daughter and received an entire menagerie instead.”

  “You would have me leave them?”

  “No, Miss Faulks, I would not.” His light-brown eyes fixed upon hers, carrying a glimmer of warmth that seemed to steal her breath away. “I do not believe you have it in that compassionate heart of yours, to leave these poor creatures to an uncertain fate. Nor would I ask you to. I admire these actions, Miss Faulks, more than you can possibly know.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink, her heartbeat quickening without warning. It is the heat, Rachel, it is nothing but the heat.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Emerald set sail for open ocean, moving away from the safety of continental Africa. A pleasant wind blew at their back, the weather remaining fine for several days. Meanwhile, the animals had been brought on-board and were safely stowed away in the vacant room of the Emerald Suite, causing very little trouble to anyone. Even Captain Frodsham paid their arrival little heed. It appeared he had much larger fish to fry.

  Evening fell as the vessel pushed on through the inky waters, moving toward their next destination of Cape Verde. Rachel had slept much of the afternoon, having spent the previous night cradling the sickly monkeys and feeding them bread soaked in milk to restore their vitality. Noah and Nan had remained, too, assisting in the care of the new creatures.

  Moving into the lounge area of the suite, she settled down in front of the roaring fire and picked up one of the books she had brought with her. It was a brief history of the Americas, detailing the arrival of the first settlers and everything that had happened since, all the way up to 1700. It was missing seventy years, but she reasoned she could educate herself on those missing decades once she arrived on the shores of her new home.

  She had just turned the page when a barking cough shattered the peaceful silence. It was coming from Nan’s chambers. Rachel paused in the armchair, listening out for another. Nan often coughed and spluttered in her sleep, startling Rachel. Silence returned, peppered only by the crack and spit of the burning logs. Satisfied, she returned to her book, one hand ruffling the fur of Dandelion’s head.

  Twenty minutes later, another cough erupted from the depths of Nan’s bedchamber. Rough and wheezing, it made Rachel sit up a little straighter, a frown furrowing her brow. Cough after cough echoed through to the lounge followed by the strained gasp of someone clawing for breath. It did not subside, the spluttering sound sending a shiver of fear through Rachel’s nerves. Normally, her complaint subsided after a moment or two, but this did not appear to be going anywhere.

  Immediately, Rachel jumped to her feet and
hurried across to the door of Nan’s room. Knocking lightly, she pressed her ear to the wood. “Nan? Are you quite well?” she asked.

  A brief pause followed before Nan replied in a husky, shaky voice, “I am quite well, Miss Faulks. A chunk of bread got the better of me, that’s all. Thank you for your kindness, but there’s nothing to fear.”

  “Are you sure? Might I fetch something for you?”

  Another pause stretched between them. “A cup of tea would be a mighty good thing. My throat’s as parched as a desert and me tongue feels like sand.”

  “I’ll send for some tea things at once,” she assured, turning around and heading for the main door. Opening it tentatively, she peered out into the gathering gloom, remembering her previous promise not to venture out again without supervision. And yet, what else could she do? Nan required something to drink and Rachel was not about to let her go thirsty.

  Whistling for Dandelion to join her, the two of them stepped out onto the near-silent and deck and went in search of Noah. She had learned enough of her lesson to know that descending below decks alone was a terrible idea. Garrick had returned to his duties and she had a feeling he harbored a great deal of resentment towards her. Even if he did not wish her further harm, the very idea of bumping into him terrified her.

  Halfway across the breezy deck, she spotted the young sailor who had almost plummeted to his death. Wracking her brain, she tried to remember what the other sailors had called him. It danced on the tip of her tongue. Something strange… I am sure it is not an ordinary name.

  “Turnips!” she called, her voice cutting through the whistle of the wind.

  The young man turned, pointing at his chest. “Me, Miss Faulks?”

  “Yes, might you come over here for a moment?”

  He rushed to her side. “What can I do for you, miss? It’s Onions, by the way, but you can call me what you like. I answer to almost anything.” He chuckled to himself, rubbing the back of his thin, turkey neck.

  “I was wondering if you might find Mr. Sharpleton for me? My chaperone and I require some refreshment and I do not wish to go below decks without her.”

  “Certainly, Miss. I think he’s in the captain’s quarters at the moment, so I might have to wait ‘til he comes out if that’s grand with you? I’d go in meself, but I don’t want to risk the captain’s wrath. Folks like me ain’t really supposed to go in there without his say so.” He scuffed the toe of his boot against the grain of the deck’s planks, his manner bordering on shy.

  Rachel sighed. “I suppose that shall have to do, though it is rather urgent.”

  “Sorry, miss. I’d go in if I could.”

  Rachel contemplated her actions for a moment. I can allow Onions to wait, and have the tea things arrive somewhat later than I require them. Or I can announce myself at the door of the captain’s quarters and tell Mr. Sharpleton myself. Then again, they might find it somewhat rude of me to interrupt them for something as trifling as tea. She thought of poor Nan hacking and coughing in her bedchamber and realized that it could not wait.

  “Thank you, Onions. I shall take care of this endeavor myself.”

  “Sorry, miss.” He looked genuinely crestfallen.

  “Not to worry, I am certain you would have performed the task excellently, had I allowed you.” Offering what she hoped was a kind expression, she moved past him and walked the rest of the way to the door of the captain’s quarters.

  Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited for a response.

  “Who is it?” Captain Frodsham’s voice barked from within.

  “It is Miss Faulks,” she replied. “I seek a very brief audience with Mr. Sharpleton.”

  The door opened a moment later revealing the luxurious interior of the Captain’s abode. It was not unlike the Empire Suite, but the furnishings were far plusher, the armchairs deep and comfortable, and the bookcases loaded with leather-bound tomes. Gilded statues stood atop marble side-tables, their elegant arms raised up in a silent plea while the antlers of great beasts glinted from wooden plaques on the wall. A fire burned in the grate, casting a warm glow on the face of Noah. He stood and crossed the room to join Captain Frodsham on the threshold.

  “Is something the matter, Miss Faulks?” he asked.

  Rachel cleared her throat feeling slightly foolish. “I was wondering if I might request some tea to be brought up to the Empire Suite. Nan is suffering with a rather vigorous cough, and I believe it may relieve her discomfort.”

  The two men exchanged a look. “You require… tea?” Noah replied.

  “Yes, if possible. Nan is in dire need of refreshment.”

  “And this cannot wait?”

  Her eyes grew hard. “No, I do not believe it can. It may seem a touch trivial, but Nan is an elderly lady and she requires some relief from her coughing fits.”

  “Very well,” Noah replied reluctantly before turning to the Captain. “May we continue this conversation another time?”

  He nodded, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “It can wait until after Miss Faulks and her chaperone have their refreshment.”

  Noah stepped out into the brisk night and walked with Rachel back to the Empire Suite. She could tell he was annoyed at her intrusion. His body language had stiffened, his expression was cold, and his gaze was seeking out anything but her.

  “I know it may seem foolish to you, but it could not wait,” Rachel remarked, eager to break the silence.

  “I was in the midst of a rather important discussion, Miss Faulks. You cannot interrupt such things for every whim and fancy that might spring into your mind.” He interlocked his hands behind his back. “I am here for your protection, but I am not your serving maid.”

  Rachel glowered at him. “I have never imagined you to be,” she retorted. “Nor do I ever recall interrupting you because of a single whim or fancy. You think me spoiled—admit it, Mr. Sharpleton! You think me spoiled and so you allow yourself to paint me as such.”

  “I do not think you understand the importance of my role here on this ship,” he said tersely. “I have other duties that I must attend to and those duties require certain tools and supplies that we currently do not possess. I was in the middle of a negotiation when you came in demanding your tea.”

  In frosty silence, the duo stalked towards the Empire Suite. Rachel went in first, with Noah following after. She could almost feel his judging eyes boring into the back of her head. And here I was thinking you and I had resolved our issues. I see that I was mistaken.

  They had just walked into the lounge area when a ghostly figure appeared at the doorway to Nan’s bedchamber. Pale and shivering, lips blue and face gaunt, eyes bloodshot with near-black circles underneath, Rachel did not recognize the person at first. Papery hands, webbed with protruding blue veins, clawed at the side of the doorframe to find something to grab hold of. Watching the creeping figure, Rachel bristled with panic—had someone stolen in unawares?

  “Nan?” Noah gasped.

  The old woman’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Rachel stared in disbelief at the skeletal creature emerging from the room ahead. Without the layers of shawls and skirts, Nan barely looked able to hold up her own bodyweight. The outline of bones pushed through the thin, pallid skin of her arms and collarbone, her knees knocking together beneath the strain of walking forward.

  Without warning, she let out a wheezing rasp and tumbled forward.

  Noah darted to her aid before Rachel even knew what was happening, catching the old woman before she hit the ground. His strong arms encircled her, lifting her up in a bridal carry as though she weighed nothing. Her arms flopped at her sides, her legs limp across the crook of his elbow.

  “Nan?” he muttered desperately. “Nan, can you hear me? Nan, you must stay awake.”

  “Is she… Is she well?” Rachel whispered, frozen to the spot.

  He whirled around, panic glinting in his eyes. “I am sorry for those things I said. I ought to have come sooner—I should have e
nsured that everything was fine,” he said as he pressed his hand to the old woman’s forehead. He recoiled in alarm. “Nan is terribly sick, Miss Faulks. We must send for Doctor Bentham before it is too late.”

  She nodded. “I will fetch him.”

  “No, you must not. Stay with Nan and I will go for him.”

  “Your skills are required here, Mr. Sharpleton,” Rachel insisted. “You must have some medical knowledge if you have spent your life on-board vessels such as this. You were the one to suggest the bread and milk for the monkeys, and you were the one to mix a poultice for Dandelion’s grazes. I know it is not much, but it is more than I know.”