After a moment’s pause, Bess knocked hard on the hatch, and the shrill noise stopped.
“Captain?” a frightened voice said.
“It’s Bess.” She hesitated. “Bess Garret.” She had difficulty saying her married name.
Someone bid her to enter, and Bess noted three pale faces as she went inside. Rebecca and Clara Montague were huddled together on the bottom bunk, while Mathilde Dunnon looked sick and scared where she sat on the floor, clutching the edge of the bunk.
“My God,” Mathilde gasped. “What is happening? Are we sinking?”
“If we were sinking,” Clara pointed out, “there’d be water in our cabin. Lots of it!”
“We’re encountering a storm as we begin to round the Cape,” Bess said, grabbing onto the table to keep from tumbling as the ship rocked.
“Oh, Lord,” Mathilde wailed. “We’re going to die! We’re going to die. I can just feel it!”
“We’re not going to die, Mrs. Dunnon,” Rebecca said. But the auburn-haired woman looked worried as she held tight to the bottom of the top bunk.
Although the situation was a serious one and she felt sympathy for Mathilde, Bess had to smile at the heavy-set woman’s theatrics. “Rebecca is right. Seth is a wonderful captain. He knows what he’s doing. I should take comfort in knowing you’re in capable hands.”
Rebecca managed a weak smile. “He does seem a good captain.” Her expression clearly stated that she was quite taken with him, and the jealousy Bess felt was fleeting but sharp, until she reminded herself that it was she he’d married, not this red-haired eighteen-year-old.
“If the motion of the ship gets too rough, you can secure yourself in the bunk with a rope,” Bess told them, and she proceeded to tell them how to do so without injury, having learned the proper way from Seth.
Mathilde Dunnon was horrified at the idea. “Tie ourselves in!” she exclaimed. “Why, that’s barbaric!”
The vessel tipped far to the starboard side, and all four women gasped, jolted by the violence of the ship on an angry sea.
Bess was the first to recover from fright. “Don’t worry,” she said, feeling shaky, but hoping she hid it well. “It’ll be all right.”
“No, no we won’t,” Mathilde insisted in a high-pitched whine. “We’re all going to die!”
Clara started to sob. “We’re going to die! We’re going to die!”
“We are not,” Bess insisted sternly. She silently pleaded for Rebecca’s help. The young woman appeared panic-stricken, but she was nowhere near the hysterical point.
They could barely hear the shouts of the men on the main deck above them. The thunder of the storm and the roar of the wind were terrifyingly loud, like being in a train while it raced through a tunnel while someone nearby beat intermittently on a drum.
Bess almost had to shout to be heard. “Rebecca, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Our lives are in the hands of very competent seamen. That’s why I— my cousin,” she amended, “hired Captain Garret to transport our goods.”
Rebecca nodded, and the fear eased away from her expression.
“Take care of your aunt. Make her see that everything will be all right,” Bess instructed the auburn-haired woman. “I’ll see if I can’t speak with my husband.”
She saw no one as she left the women’s cabin. Every able-bodied man would be on the main deck. Where was Reeves? In the fo’c’sle riding out the storm? Or above on the main deck working alongside the crew?
As she struggled to climb the ladder, she decided that she must speak with John Reeves, who had been avoiding her like she had a contagious disease since her marriage to Seth. She missed him, and wished she had someone to confide in. It hurt her to be estranged from her most trusted friend. She knew she should have spoken to him before now, but there had been little time to do so, what with the marriage and then the rescue of the survivors from the Lady Grey. And her feelings for Seth had taken up most of her thoughts, giving her a great deal to think about and fear.
The cold, wet blast of air that hit Bess as she ascended to the main deck stole her breath away, tearing the hair pins from her blonde tresses, whipping the tendrils about her face her neck. She made a grab for the wayward strands, but then almost fell when she lost her balance. Grasping for a handhold, she righted herself, ignored her hair, and searched for Seth.
A continual clicking noise drew her attention to the gathering balls of ice across the deck. Hail! There was actually ice mixed in with the pouring rain.
Bess was soaked within seconds, so cold that she was shivering and wishing herself below. The sound of the storm was deafening. A wave came up over the side of the ship’s hull, crashing onto the wooden deck, before sliding back into the churned-up sea. The sky was an inky black, almost like night, but not quite, for there was just enough light to be able to see. It was a startling sight to behold all the same.
The crewmen were desperately battling the elements, struggling to secure ropes, scurrying about to obey harsh shouts of command. Bundled up in their peacoats, their heads protected by their wide-brimmed tarred hats, they worked to keep control of the vessel, their faces lashed by the ocean salt spray and stinging rain, their feet slipping on an icy deck.
Fear squeezed Bess’s heart as she spied Seth on the quarter deck, his hands firm on the ship’s wheel. James Kelley stood at his side, ready to relieve him at a second’s notice, at times, grabbing hold of the wheel when a particularly strong wave rose high on the ship’s side before getting beneath her to toss the Sea Mistress high.
Bess saw the wall of water and prayed hard as the ship rose up until all she could see was sky, no water at all. Then, the vessel was down in the water again, being thrown about as if it were a small boat instead of a good-sized American clipper ship. As she clung to the decking, her head and shoulders above the hatch, Bess studied the distance between Seth on the quarter deck and herself on the ladder. She wondered if she could make it and whether it was important enough even to try.
Seth happened to glance her way then. It was hard to see his expression, for the sleet had intensified all of a sudden with the addition of snow, and the wind drove the ice, rain, and snow at an angle, making visibility difficult. She saw him lean toward the first mate, saw James Kelley look in her direction. And then the mate was waving his arms at her, gesturing her to go below.
She immediately obeyed, because she knew it would be foolhardy not to. But she went with renewed fear in her heart, for she was afraid for all of the men . . . for Seth. She had seen the danger of the upper deck and was horrified.
She rallied her courage and decided to help in the one way she could without hindering the men above. She returned to the berth deck and the officers’ cabin where three frightened women waited to be reassured. And she smiled and assured them that she had spoken to Seth, that the storm was fierce now, but would soon be over. Everything would be all right.
She gave the performance of a lifetime. She lied and prayed the lie would come true.
The storm continued for what seemed like days but must have been only hours. Bess’s lie did little to calm the poor, terrified women. Their hysterics wore on Bess’s nerves until she thought that dying a quick death might be preferable to enduring the screeching, shrieking noises from both the storm and the other three women passengers on board.
When the end came, it was with a suddenness that was startling as well as welcomed. The Sea Mistress continued to bob on choppy waters, but the wind had died down, and the rain and hail that had pelted the upper decks could no longer be heard.
Bess had spent most of the storm trying to soothe the women, and then when one by one they began to get sick, she saw to their needs, making sure the chamberpot or washbasin was available to catch the vomit. She was surprised that she herself didn’t succumb, for the odor in the cabin was vile and the motion of the ship certainly encouraged nausea.
Exhausted from the ordeal, the women slept, and were grateful as well as eager to get away, Bess returned
to her own cabin to lie down. Once there however, she found that she couldn’t sleep or rest, not until she knew whether or not everyone on the top deck was safe.
Then, she heard Seth’s booming voice and the answering shouts of glee, and knew that they wouldn’t be celebrating the passing of the storm if anyone had been lost . . . had died.
And she lay down with a tired smile. Seth was unharmed. The man she loved had seen them all safely through the storm.
San Francisco
“Would you stop pacing like a caged animal?” Kate Johnson said to her husband, her tone gentle rather than scolding. She was concerned about him. Lately, he’d been preoccupied and upset. While she could guess the reason, she didn’t know how to ease his mind.
Joel went to the parlor window and stared out into the night. It had been six months since he’d heard from Seth. Six months since he’d received the letter that told him he’d accepted the assignment of bringing to Johnson Blanchard a certain small varnished pine box that had been held in safe keeping at Smith and Smith, Attorneys At Law.
The box had belonged to Edward Metcalfe, and Joel had been instructed to open the box and use whatever was inside to right the one major wrong the merchant had committed, something that had made him sorry until his death. Edward had given him the key years ago, before the man had died. Joel had almost forgotten until he’d found it among his dead sister’s things. He had given Ruth the key for safekeeping. Now both Ruth and Edward were dead, and Joel was left with a mission entrusted to him by Edward. And the prospect was slowly killing him inside.
“How long?” he said in a broken voice. “How long before they finally come?”
“I know you’ve spoken of the both of them, but how do you know that both will come?” Kate asked. She went to him near the window, slipping her arm about his middle, snuggling against his side.
“Seth will come,” he said, “because, in a way, I’ve summoned him. I’ve commissioned him to bring me something that belonged to Edward. A pine box with something inside that could be considered a curse or something valuable, depending who you are and how you look at it.”
Kate pulled back with a frown. “I don’t understand.”
And Joel told her about Edward’s letter, explaining the box, how Edward’s attorneys had contacted him after Edward had died. Edward himself had given Joel the key to the box years before, but Joel had never understood the significance until Edward had written him the letter months before he died. Edward explained to Joel that he wanted his friend to use the information in the box to explain things to Bess.
“You mean there is something in that box that would help Bess understand Edward’s actions in taking the babe?” his wife asked.
Joel nodded. He only hoped that in learning the truth she forgave her Uncle Joeson for his silence in this matter all these years. And what of Seth? Would Seth then revile the man he’d once admired? Joel closed his eyes in pain.
“She’ll forgive you,” Kate said. “They’ll both forgive you. You’ve taken good care of their child.”
“A child I kept hidden from them.”
Kate dismissed that with a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve not a mean streak in your whole body,” she said, her tone seductive as her hands began to wander across his chest.
But Joel wondered if it were true. He recalled the times he’d been forced to wield the whip on his own men, the satisfaction it had given him when because of the beating the men obeyed him without question. He had once thought such discipline necessary, for without it he’d lose command of his ship. But what if he’d been wrong? What if he’d been too harsh, seduced by a lust for power?
As for Matthew . . . Had he subconsciously kept the child to himself, not because he worried about keeping his friend’s secret safe but because he wanted the boy for his own?
Kate could tell that despite her bold caresses she’d lost Joel’s attention. “I can tell by your face that I don’t like the direction of your thoughts.”
He blinked and then blushed fiercely. “What do you mean?”
“It means, honey love, that you’re a good, kind man with a conscience. The guilt in this situation belongs to Edward Metcalfe, not you.”
He kissed her hard. “Thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said—” He stopped, and his eyes took on a knowing gleam. Then, he took her fully into his arms and proceeded to display his gratitude.
After seven days of alternate fair and inclement weather, the Sea Mistress had rounded Cape Horn. Her sails were battered and in some places torn, her riggings frayed and in great need of repair. But all in all, the vessel had survived the storm in fair condition. She had made good time, considering she’d been under reduced sail. And for the most part, the men had remained in good spirits, having been warmed by a continual flow of hot tea and an occasional measure of grog.
Once used to the shift and change of the Cape’s weather, the men had gone back to their watches, each taking his turn or trick at the helm. And the Sea Mistress had continued her way around Cape Horn.
Recently, Cook had outdone himself with the best batch of scouse ever created in a ship’s galley. Bess had enjoyed the dish. Made with biscuits pounded into fine crumbs, small chunks of slate beef and potatoes, the meal was a hearty one in which the ingredients were boiled together and then seasoned with just the right amount of black pepper. The tea, the scouse, and an occasional measure of grog kept the men in relatively good humor, although their clothes were constantly wet. And when the sky was cloudy and the day was gray, they were more often than not shivering from the cold Cape winds.
The first inkling Bess had that the ship had finally completed the journey around the Cape was while she was enjoying a moment topside. Throughout the last seven days, she’d come up for air whenever the weather turned pleasant, which it was wont to do for a few hours or so at a time.
The sky looked particularly beautiful this day. The blue of the heavens was more vivid than ever before. The sun seemed brighter and more cheerful, as if it were celebrating life. But it was the sight of the sails that told Bess that they were now around the Cape and heading north. The Sea Mistress was under full sail again, and it was a magnificent sight with the winds filling out her canvas, and her hull slicing cleanly and quickly through the blue water.
“We’ve made it,” a male voice said.
She smiled at James Kelley as he came to her side. “Thank God,” she said. “We’re heading north?”
He nodded. “To Juan Fernandez, an island off the coast of Chile. We’ll stop there for repairs.”
Bess frowned. “Is the ship badly damaged?”
“Nothing that we can’t fix in a day at port.”
Paul Halloran, the younger of the two male shipwreck survivors from the Lady Grey, approached. “Did I overhear something about land?” When the first mate confirmed this, Halloran said, “Thank the good Lord! I long for the sight of dry land. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen ground?”
“I can’t imagine,” James said with sarcasm that went unheeded.
“Weeks,” the fair-haired man said theatrically. “Four. Perhaps even five!”
Bess and the first mate exchanged smiles, for they knew well what it was like to be at sea for that length of time and longer.
James Kelley touched her arm. “Your husband is looking this way and I can tell it’s not me he wants.”
Bess’s heart thumped as she followed the direction of James’s gaze. Seth stood on the quarter deck, his visage brooding as he watched her. He was angry and his tension filled the distance between them.
“Perhaps I should see what he wants,” she suggested.
Paul Halloran grabbed her arm. “You’re not leaving me? If the captain wants you, let him come here.”
Bess carefully withdrew from his grasp. “If I want to go to him, it’s my business, isn’t it?”
Annoyed, Bess headed for the ladder to the quarterdeck. She froze when she realized that
Rebecca Montague had suddenly appeared at Seth’s side. She must have been standing at the rail at the stern. Her hands tightened into fists when she saw Seth turn to Rebecca, his face relaxing in a soft smile.
Angry and jealous, Bess changed directions, heading toward the ladder to the berth deck instead. If Seth wants to make a fool of himself, then fine, but he wouldn’t do so in her company. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt her, to humiliate her!
When she got to their cabin, the tears that had blinded her on the way fell freely. The day, for her, no longer seemed pleasant.
“Captain Garret.”
Seth reluctantly dragged his gaze from the two men and his wife to find Rebecca Montague at his side. He had to smile at her delighted face. She looked healthy and full of life, a drastic change from the pale, unconscious young woman who had been rescued and brought on board. “How are you, Miss Montague?”
“Fine, thank you, Captain . . . now that I’ve learned we’ve rounded Cape Horn.”
“Aye. It’s a good thing to know one’s battled the elements and come out the victor.”
She nodded, her green eyes sparkling, a picture of youthful beauty that had garnered the attention of most of the crew.
Seth glanced back toward Bess, scowling when he saw that she’d gone. His gaze searched the deck for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Had she gone below? Damn, but it had bothered him to see her with Paul Halloran. Hell, it bothered him each time he saw her with James Kelley, and he trusted Kelley, for the man was not only his first mate, but his friend.
“What’s it like in San Francisco?” Rebecca asked, demanding his attention once again.
He blinked and realigned his thoughts. “San Francisco? Well, I’ve been there only once, and it was well over a year ago. It was before gold was discovered, and the influx of people to the West. I’m sure it’s changed a lot by now.”
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