For several more days, they meticulously searched the nearby islands. A few pieces of debris were found washed ashore on one or two. Then the broken dinghy was located on a small beach. Kathleen rowed ashore with the small party of searchers. About a mile inland, they came across a fresh-water pond—and five survivors of the wreckage!
Hope sprang anew as Kathleen recognized three of the sailors from the Kat-Ann. The other two were exchanged prisoners. Only one of the crewmen was uninjured. He had been caring for the others as best he could, but with little hope. One man had a broken leg; another had several broken and cracked ribs, now healing. One of the prisoners had a nasty gash in his leg, which had festered badly. Most likely, he would lose the leg. The other American, already weakened by his stay in a British jail, had lapsed into unconsciousness with a raging fever. The remaining sailor had a severed arm and a deep cut across his forehead. His chances of survival were practically nonexistent. Four other of their mates had already succumbed to their wounds since washing ashore.
While the wounded men were being tended and gently transferred to the waiting ships, Kathleen and Jean questioned the one sound survivor. The story he told was not encouraging. The storm had been the worst he could recall. Yes, the Kat-Ann had been blown off course, but Captain Taylor and all aboard had fought to keep her steady. She had started to break apart after lightning had sent her mainmast crashing through the deck. They had lost a few men overboard then, and more had lost their footing during the course of the storm and gone sliding off where the taffrail had given way. Floundering badly, they somehow managed to stay afloat for a while longer. Then, out of nowhere, they had come upon the reef. The sharp coral had ripped at the crippled ship, tearing a gaping hole in her hull.
With the frigate sinking fast, the remaining men had gone overboard, some in the dinghy and others clinging to barrels and pieces of planking. The sailor recalled clinging to the side of the thrashing dinghy, battered by monstrous waves. As the current pulled them away, the sailor had seen Captain Taylor leap from the foundering ship with the blonde woman slung over his shoulder. A few minutes later, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s blonde hair and light-colored dress as she was swept past him. He could not see if her face was out of the water. Nor could he tell if Captain Taylor was with her, for it was too dark. All he could add was that he and the others who had made it to safety on the island had seen neither of them since that night, nor any sign of anyone else. Indeed, it was a miracle to be rescued at all after all this time, and he could not express his gratitude enough.
With renewed hope, they combed the islands for yet another week, but no further survivors were found, though seven more bodies were discovered. Reed and Miss Simpson were not among them. Finally came the day Kathleen had dreaded. They had covered every island any survivors might possibly have washed ashore upon. In fact, they had extended their search beyond what was reasonable. It was time to face the facts. Reed must have drowned. If he were alive, they would have found him by now. Somewhere in the depths of these treacherous sparkling blue waters, his lifeless body lay among the coral-strewn sands, never to be retrieved.
Jean was ready to return to Grande Terre. Gasparilla and Baker had already departed for their respective islands. The injured survivors were improving under the care of the Pride's physician, but they needed decent food and calm conditions for their continued recovery.
When Jean suggested to Kathleen that they set course for Barataria Bay, she gazed up at him sadly and shook her head. The pity in his gentle hazel eyes was almost more than she could bear. Isabel, with her constant mothering, was beginning to grate on Kathleen’s nerves also.
Just now, Kathleen was blessedly numb, but she realized it was a temporary condition. Something was seething just beneath the surface, waiting to burst forth. A deep anger and terrible grieving was building up within her, and it frightened her. She could sense it, though she could not fully comprehend it, and some inner self warned her that it would not be long before it erupted full-force. When it finally did, she sensed that the force of it would be far more destructive and devastating than anything she had ever experienced.
Kathleen felt an overwhelming urge to get away from everything and everyone. Deep in her soul she felt the need to grieve in peace and solitude, to come to terms with Reed’s death and her own feelings without the constant attention and well-meant advice of her sympathetic friends.
Thus, when Jean suggested returning to Grande Terre, Kathleen declined. “You go on, Jean. Take Dominique and Isabel back with you, but I will not be coming.”
Jean frowned. “Kathleen, cherie, surely you do not intend to continue the search? Surely you realize by now how hopeless it is.”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but did not begin to reach her eyes. “I am not totally mad yet, Jean. Even I know when I am beaten. Do you need to hear me speak the words? Then I will say it. Reed is dead. I know that, but now I need to accept it, and I need to do it alone.”
“I wonder at the wisdom of that,” he doubted aloud.
“Wise or not, it is what I must do. I am going to head the Starbright out to sea. Just where I shall go or how long I shall be gone, I cannot say. It would please me if you would take Isabel and part of my crew with you. I want a minimum of people with me; just enough to manage the ship.”
“Have you forgotten there is a war on?” Jean reminded her. “What if you encounter a British warship?”
Kathleen shrugged, causing Jean’s worry to escalate as he sensed her fatalistic attitude. “I shall contend with that event if and when it should occur,” she stated flatly.
“You will come back when you have settled things in your mind?” He was really pressing her for some word that she did not plan to intentionally place herself in harm’s way.
She answered vaguely, “When I have come to terms with my loss.” Only God could say when or if that would come about.
Isabel, too, feared for Kathleen’s safety in her present state of mind. She begged Kathleen not to go, or if she must, to take her along. Kathleen laughed hollowly. “Heavens, Isabel! You would think I had just sold you into slavery! Dominique particularly will take especially good care of you.”
“It is not myself I am concerned about,” Isabel huffed. Then her voice turned pleading again. “Promise me you will be careful and return safely.”
Kathleen’s face clouded, and her shoulders slumped. “I can only say I will try, Isabel. Reed vowed that he would return unharmed, and you see what has happened. Promises are nothing but empty words. We are all in the fickle hands of fate.”
Jean stood on the deck of the Pride watching the Starbright carry Kathleen further and further from him, until it was a mere dot on the horizon. He wished he could have locked her safely in her cabin and carried her away with him to Grande Terre whether she wished it or not. A heavy sigh lifted his chest as he admitted he could never have done that to her, no matter how intense his desire.
He understood only too well her wish to be alone just now. Hadn’t he, too, experienced that same desire when his beloved wife Rachel had died? Leaving his children with Pierre’s wife, he had gone off to lick his wounds in solitary grieving, daring anyone to interrupt his seclusion.
Perhaps better than Kathleen herself at this point, Jean understood what she was going through, and what she had yet to discover within herself. How well he recognized the signs of building anger and frustration she was only now starting to feel! With all his heart, Jean wished he could spare her this private hell, or assure her that it would ease with time. If there were a way to take her pain upon himself, he would gladly do it, but he knew in his soul that this was the one thing she must resolve within herself, and no one could do it for her.
And so he had let her go. He could only wait and pray that Kathleen was as strong as he thought her to be. Too well he knew the temptation to join one’s mate in death. The struggle between the forces of life and death could be fierce indeed, and he could only pray that Kathleen
would come through this ultimate contest of wills safely. Perhaps that was why God allowed the unreasonable anger to creep in; perhaps it helped to conquer the inevitable deathwish. The rage he had felt after Rachel’s death had seemed a strange reaction, at first, and in direct conflict with his terrible grief. The harder he had tried to reject the anger, the stronger it had become, until its blazing fury had given him the release his tears could not. He had raged at the injustice of life and fate. He’d cursed God and man, the painful childbirth that had taken Rachel’s life, himself, even his small newborn daughter.
Then, when he had run out of other things to rage at, his anger had turned itself unreasonably on Rachel. She had given birth twice before and never had a problem. Why couldn’t she have done that this time? How could she have allowed herself to become pregnant at the worst time in St. Dominque’s history, just when they were forced to flee the revolution for their very lives? And why, oh, why, couldn’t she have forestalled her labor until they had reached New Orleans? They had been within mere hours of their destination! Most of all, what right had she to die and leave him alone and heartbroken and so lost without her?
Eventually his anger had burned itself out, and he had gone through a less intense period of grieving, achieving a sort of quiet, exhausted acceptance of the inevitable and God’s will. That had been nine years ago, and there were still times when his grief seemed as fresh and new as the day she had died, though not often these days. Now his thoughts were of Kathleen and his unrequited love for her —a love that gave, and grew, and asked so little in return.
With a sigh of resignation, Jean turned from the rail. Worried though he was, he could now only have faith in Kathleen’s strength to pull her through this hellish trial.
For six days the Starbright continued into the very heart of the Gulf, on a more-or-less southwesterly heading, though Kathleen set no specific course. In her grief, she didn’t really care where they went or how long they were gone. As far as she was concerned, they could drift aimlessly into eternity as long as they did it in complete solitude.
For the most part, she manned the helm herself, but there were times when she turned the wheel over to Finley. Then she would spend long hours perched high in the rigging, staring out at the endless blue waters. Her emotions assailed her from every direction, giving her little of the peace she sought. Unlike the calm seas they now traversed, her emotions ran the gamut from anger to despair, frustration to desolation, anxiety to damnation. Tears were her constant companion.
There were many times, high above the deck in her private gloom, when she could so easily have launched herself into the endless depth of the sea below. Her sorrow knew no bounds, her pain no limit. Yet, rising above it all, was an ever-mounting anger. Under the bright tropical sun, it seemed to seethe and fester like an unclean wound.
At last came the day when her wrath rose full and furious to the surface. Alone in the shrouds, Kathleen shrieked at the heavens.
“Damn you, Reed Taylor!” she screamed. “Damn you for leaving me alone like this! You promised!” Her voice broke and rose again to blister the skies. “You lousy, lying scum! You promised to come home to me! What am I to tell your mother and our children? Shall I tell them you rest below the waves in the arms of some strange woman? If you hadn’t tried to save her—if you hadn’t been so stupidly gallant—you might be in my arms right now!” Her chest heaving with pain, she screamed out her anguish. “You were an excellent captain, Reed. You should have been able to bring your ship through, no matter how vicious the storm, or how high the waves! You should have come home to me! What gave you the right to hurt me this way? What gives you the right to lie in peace while I go through this living hell?”
Her words stopped, and she clung limply to the mast, as if in venting her anger, she had exhausted every ounce of her strength. She felt small and weak and lifeless, but more at peace than she had in weeks. It was as if she had released some of the pain gnawing away at her. Sobbing violently, she slowly descended the mast and crawled away to her bunk to bury herself in the blessed oblivion of sleep.
Dan and Finley stared after her in mutual dismay. It hurt them to see her in such pain when they could do nothing to help. They were limited to seeing to her basic needs and watching over her as closely as she would allow. Each time she climbed into the rigging, or stood defeatedly at the rail staring into the depths below, they tensed with fear. Under this tremendous stress, they knew it would take little to push her over the edge of sanity, on the brink of which she teetered so precariously.
Both had known and loved Kathleen since she was a child. Dan had been like an elderly uncle, patiently teaching her first how to tie knots, and finally how to sail. Kathleen had once gone through a schoolgirl’s infatuation for Hal Finley when he was, temporarily at least, her idol.
The two of them had sailed under her command as Emerald, willingly turning pirate simply because she had asked it of them. At her side, they had endured hurricanes and swordfights, fought pirates—and eventually gotten caught. They had sailed and fought at her side, advised her, protected her, worried over her, laughed and cried with her, felt such pride in her they thought they would burst, and watched her mature into the strong, beautiful woman she was today.
In the first year of her marriage, they had seen her suffer and struggle against her love for Reed. They had watched in helpless frustration as Kathleen and Reed had repeatedly, and often deliberately, hurt one another deeply. They’d shared her pain, her anger, and her attempt at revenge. In the past four years, they’d celebrated the lasting love she and Reed had found, and the happy births of their two children. Now they shared her sorrow, but were helpless to lessen her grief.
For the next couple of days, Kathleen was quieter and more subdued than before. It was impossible to tell if she was beginning to accept the fact of Reed’s death, or if she was merely falling more deeply into depression.
Kathleen could have told them. With her anger expended, the fight seemed to drain out of her. A strange sense of calm had taken its place, a dreary lassitude that led to dark thoughts of death. She longed to join Reed and put an end to this torment—this awful loneliness. In the turmoil of her mind, she no longer cared if she lived or died. With Reed had gone her reason for existing, her laughter and her sunshine.
It was in this frame of mind that she ordered the sails taken in. The Starbright drifted slowly to a rocking halt, bobbing easily on the slight waves. Dan’s old heart nearly stopped as he saw Kathleen pull off her boots and stockings and balance herself on the slim railing. He cried out in warning, but neither he nor Finley could reach her before she dived in a perfect arc and plunged far beneath the crystal surface of the water. Tears blurred Dan’s vision, and he clutched at Finley’s arm in fear. “Oh! She’s gone an’ done it now, fer sure!”
Finley patted his friend’s shoulder in commiseration. “Maybe not. We’ll just have to wait and see. It’s certain there is not a man among us who can swim as well as Kathleen, so there is no use trying to save her against her will.”
The saltwater stung her eyes as Kathleen stroked her way through sun-sparkled water. It was so beautiful, and so blessedly silent, not the stormy, deadly sea that had claimed her husband’s life. She had always loved the sea, sharing a special kinship with it, and now she had come to link its spirit with hers eternally.
Preoccupied with her thoughts and dazzled by the splendor about her, it was several seconds before Kathleen realized that something was not right. The water held an unequaled buoyancy this day. It seemed to bear her up, and as hard as she stroked, she could not swim below a certain depth. Always able to hold her breath for long minutes under water, Kathleen thought surely she had exceeded her limit, yet her lungs were not straining in her chest. Just when she began to feel the familiar pressure and the urge to breathe fresh air, the ocean seemed to lurch and send her bobbing to the surface. There, her lungs reflexively sucked in air, replenishing their supply of oxygen.
Frowning i
n confusion, Kathleen again dove below the surface; again she could not gain any great depth. But this time she did manage to stay down longer. Her chest ached, her head was beginning to feel light, and bright spots were flickering before her eyes before the sea tossed her spinning to the surface once more.
Kathleen tried five more times to seek welcome oblivion. Once, she went as deep as she could, and deliberately expelled all the air from her lungs, but it was as if someone had tied a line about her and yanked her abruptly to the surface. On her last attempt, darkness was gathering at the edges of her eyes, and her brain was fuzzy for lack of air, when she thought she heard her children calling her.
“What the devil am I doing?” she wondered, sanity prevailing at last. With a tremendous kick, she stroked for the surface and safety. Sucking in great gulps of air, she thought, “For pity’s sake! I can’t even drown myself properly!”
Swimming to the side of the ship, she grabbed the line Dan and Finley tossed down to her, and laboriously pulled herself up. A few feet from the deck, her friends each grabbed an arm and hauled her aboard. Flat on her back, Kathleen stared up at them.
“Ye tried t’ kill yerself, lass,” Dan accused in a wobbly voice.
“Yes, I did, Dan,” she confessed weakly, “but I didn’t succeed. It seems the sea will not let me make a martyr of myself. She kept spitting me up, time and again. Then, this last time, I heard Katlin and Andrea calling for me ...” Tears filled her eyes. “I just couldn’t ignore their pleading voices begging me to come home. It is not fair that they will grow up not knowing their father. In my heart, I cannot deprive them of their mother, too.”
Ashes and Ecstasy Page 16