Daughter of the Raven

by Cherime MacFarlane

  "Quick. We need to leave now." Anya lightly touched Stanislaus' shoulder.

  Without questioning her, he scrambled into the dinghy and reached up to lift her down into the boat. Stanislaus cast off from the dock. Immediately he began to row them the few miles back to Sausalito. Nothing was said until they were far away from the dock.

  "She told you where to find him?" Stanislaus asked quietly.

  "Yes." Anya reached up to take the heavy hat off, then changed her mind. "We are going to San Diego."

  "That will take a while from here. We cannot contact your father. Someone might intercept the information. Everyone will just have to wait on us." Stanislaus looked over his shoulder as he stroked hard for the Arctic Tern. "The tide will be going out in about four hours. We will leave then."

  Stanislaus brought the dinghy hard against the stern of the Arctic Tern. He called for Petyr who ran over to take the line from him.

  Anya found herself lifted up to the small rope ladder. She scrambled onto the deck of the schooner. She and Petyr secured the dinghy as Stanislaus jumped up to catch the lowest rung of the ladder. Pulling himself up, he clambered onto the deck.

  "Come on. We need to get the dinghy back on board and stowed." Stanislaus issued orders and Petyr hurried to help. "Then we need to get some food. We are leaving with the tide in about four hours."

  Racing down stairs, she removed the hat. As quickly as she was able, the young woman changed clothes. Anya took care with the widow's weeds as she would probably need them in San Diego. Then she hurried into the galley to prepare food. Anya wanted to be ready to go when Stanislaus said it was time.

  The Arctic Tern sailed on the tide. Its crew was happy to be away from San Francisco. Petyr because it made his friends tense and anxious to be there. Anya was fearful of being discovered. Stanislaus feared the tongs. If the tong thought Anya could lead them to an enemy, there would be no protecting her.

  They put out to sea, perhaps further than was necessary, being cautious and not familiar with the coast. Between San Francisco and Los Angeles was the South Coast of California. It had a reputation as a wild and desolate place.

  Anya and Stanislaus plotted the course together. They knew the theory. Each had done so previously. But their practical experience was lacking, so they sought to guard against mistakes by doing the job together.

  Each had a healthy fear of Point Sur. Its reputation as a dangerous place for ships was only partially negated by the new lighthouse. Point Conception had a light; Point Arguello did not. Since the Arctic Tern was a sail only vessel, with no power source other than the wind, they needed to plot their course carefully.

  Putting further out to sea, then making a turn up into San Diego Bay would take longer but would probably be safest.

  Neither of them said it, but both of them knew they wished Dmitri were with them. Yet he expected them to take care of each other and the Arctic Tern. The Count trusted their courage and good sense.

  Stanislaus would take the first night watch. As Anya was the better sailor, he wanted her on the second night watch. Petyr would spell them both during the daylight hours so long as the ocean remained as it was now, clear of fog and with moderate chop.

  Petyr agreed. Anya and Stanislaus went below. By unspoken mutual agreement they only cuddled together. Their mission was upper most on their minds. Other people were involved here, and they needed to keep their minds on the business at hand. Stanislaus set the alarm on his pocket watch before placing it at the head of the bunk.

  "Frightening stuff." He muttered.

  Stanislaus pulled her close as they lay spoon fashion on the bunk. He found it easier to keep his hands from drifting into places they should not go when her back was to him.

  "I am glad they finally put a light on Point Sur. I have heard all the nasty stories of that place for years."

  Anya caressed his arms. "Point Arguello is the one that scares me now. There is a light on Point Conception but not Arguello. You have to round Arguello to see the Conception light. Once we see Point Hueneme light we should be fine because then we will know we have made the turn. But we must find those two lights."

  Stanislaus heard the tiny quaver in her voice. "We can do this. We checked the calculations, what, four times? The steam boats will stay a little closer to the coast as they have steam to propel them."

  "Yes, but if the fog comes up, or we are too far out, we could get too far out." Anya said in a very small voice.

  "That is not going to happen. Have faith Anya."

  She was silent for a moment. "Petyr is praying. That makes me feel better. Perhaps we should as well."

  "No maybe about it. Say your prayers, Anya and I will as well. I had no idea how many lives are intertwined in this. The Keeterings, Charles, and the rest of us. This is a greater undertaking than I had thought."

  They drifted off to sleep. Petyr kept to the course he had memorized. There would be a course change further down the coast. For now he would hold steady as directed. As he steered the schooner he repeated verses from Psalms and prayed, asking Him to keep the weather good. Petyr thanked Him for the wonderful gifts they had already received. Putting his trust in the God of his fathers, he looked to Him to bring them through this trial safely.

  On watch, off watch. Four hours on and four hours off. Sunrise then sunset, check the compass and the set of the sails. Fill the running lights, making them ready for the night run.

  Watch for smoke on the horizon. How close was the other ship? Seeing the smoke on the horizon off their port side reassured whoever was on watch, that at least they were near land. They strove to maintain a course just on the fringe of the shipping lanes. Not too close, not too far. No one on the Arctic Tern was completely rested. They were all running close to the edge of their capabilities.

  Meeting on the deck always involved exchanging information regarding the state of the vessel. It was also a time of coming together to reinforce the bonds of friendship. A time of reassuring each other they were not alone.

  Point Sur was behind them. Anya called down to Stanislaus to come up on deck. It was a few hours before his watch, but she had caught a glimpse of a light off their port side. Anya thought it was probably Point Conception. She wanted confirmation of what she thought she saw. Stanislaus stayed with her on deck until they were both sure it was navigation aid they were looking for. Stanislaus then took the watch.

  Point Hueneme light was the next one on their list. Once that light was checked off; the final light they needed to see was the Point Loma light. Point Loma marked the entrance to San Diego. In many ways it was the most critical one. If they missed Point Loma light there was only open ocean between them and the tip of South America.

  They were taking a chance sticking to the outside of the Channel Islands. Each of them was aware of the consequence of missing the light.

  Going between the islands and the coast was a difficult passage for a sailing vessel with an inexperienced crew. Being too close to the islands would be dangerous should the wind change.

  It was Stanislaus who thought he caught a glimpse of the Point Loma light. As they got closer, wisps of fog interrupted the light. He called Anya and Petyr both up. They each studied the light in the telescope. They were all sure it must be Point Loma.

  Petyr and Anya ran back below deck to check the chart and the heading. They needed to wait until morning, which would be several hours off, before attempting to sail into the harbor.

  Anya took the helm. She tacked the Tern back the way they had come. She was hoping to buy time until morning with a wide turn. Neither Stanislaus nor Petyr wished to go below.

  They were so very close to their destination. They stayed with Anya as she negotiated the broad turn, she hoped would bring them back into position to make the harbor in daylight.

  To pass the time they worked on Petyr's English. Laughing and talking, they kept each other company. Stanislaus went below to made coffee for them as Anya brought their ship back to the heading on wh
ich she hoped to see the Point Loma light again.

  The compass needle stabilized on the proper heading as Anya reached for the mug Stanislaus held out for her. Taking a quick gulp of the coffee, she handed the mug back to him.

  "Come on girl." She whispered to the Arctic Tern. "God, please let it be there."

  She felt the pressure to bring in the vessel as she had never felt any responsibility before. It was her hands on the wheel. At this moment, she was the Captain. If she had botched the calculations of the turn. No, she had done it correctly. But she wanted to see the light before the sun came up and made it impossible to spot it.

  Stanislaus saw the tension in every line of her body. Anya was strong and he loved her with a passion that knew no bounds. At this moment his heart was filled with thankfulness for the brave woman she was. He knew she feared having made the wrong decision, or a mistake in her calculations.

  She had not. He did not bother to try to reassure her. At this moment, it was her responsibility. He was here to support her, not to try to reduce who and what she was. They were a team and this was her contribution.

  Barely a flash, the Point Loma light flitted across the ocean. Some low clouds interrupted the brightness. That did not matter, they had seen it. Anya immediately checked the compass setting.

  "Hallelujah!" She shouted and reached for the coffee.

  San Diego was perhaps twenty miles away. They would put into port and catch some sleep. Then the search for C. Edward Merriman, attorney at law, would begin. They were half way home.

  Stanislaus took the dinghy and rowed into San Diego to attempt to find Merriman. Instead of tying up at the bustling wharf, they had chosen to anchor in the bay. It was a fairly short distance to town by rowboat. Anya and Petyr waited on the Arctic Tern. The young woman paced the deck as she waited and watched for Rakov's return. How very odd her world had become since the day she and her family had landed in San Francisco.

  She wondered if seeing Charles would finally put an end to the seemingly never ending carousel, she appeared to be trapped on. Her goal of getting home had been realized.

  Then had come the nasty surprise that she would have to find Charles to be released from the marriage. A marriage, which was no longer viable, but kept her from Stanislaus. The horses of this particular carousel never seemed to wind down.

  Anya rubbed her aching forehead. Perhaps she was just tired. She stopped pacing and sat on the deck cross legged. In reality, she was bone weary. Never had she expected to be forced to sail the Arctic Tern this far.

  The trip back to Seattle should be easier. They all had more experience and could simply go back the way they came. The chart was already marked so it would be easy to make the necessary calculations. She stretched out on the warm deck, shading her face from the sun with her arm.

  Stanislaus returned to find her dozing in the sun. He was reluctant to wake her, but it had to be done. He was fairly certain he had located Charles. They needed to get this over with. Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet.

  "Anya, come along, love. I think we have him now. You need to wash your face. You will feel better then. If you hurry and get dressed we might finally solve this puzzle."

  She leaned against him. "Give me a minute. I have this headache."

  "Here!" He picked her up and carried her over to the stairs.

  "You need to get some water into you. You are not accustomed to this heat."

  The cabin was no cooler. He sat her down in the galley at the table. Stanislaus got her to drink some water. Dousing a cloth with water, he wrung it out and put it on her forehead. Leaving her there to rest, he went into their cabin to lay out the dress and the heavily veiled hat.

  After changing the cloth, he had her take a bit more water. "It is easy to get heat stroke in these temperatures. I had a difficult time in San Francisco when I first went there for your father. I should have warned you."

  "Stop fussing. I will feel much better once we have put an end to this mad scramble. I think worry over getting back to Poppa and Camille before they start worrying again is the real culprit. I just do not want to put them through any more strain."

  "Are you up to this? We could put it off until tomorrow." He took the cloth thinking to wet it again.'

  "Oh God no! I am getting dressed in that ridiculous costume one more time. This hopefully, will be the last time." Anya pushed his hand away and went into the cabin to dress.

  In a very short time she was once again, the widow. Stanislaus did not bother to argue further. Petyr came out on deck where he waited for Stanislaus to go down the ladder into the dinghy. Once the big man was ready, Petyr helped Anya down the rope ladder. When he was able to reach her, Stanislaus took Anya by the waist to gently lower her into the small skiff.

  Hailing a cab, he handed Anya inside and called the address up to the driver. The horse pulling the cab seemed as listless as Anya felt. Everything appeared to be moving more slowly than it should. The heat sapped her strength, but she forced herself to look around as if interested in the colorful town.

  They stopped at a small two story building. The windows on the top floor were open. On the bottom floor the front door was propped open. The hand lettered sign on the window declared it was the office of C. Edward Merriman, Attorney.

  Where she had been fatigued from the heat, a slight chill now covered her arms with bumps and oozed up her spine. Together, they walked into the office, which was staffed with one person at a desk. There was a door with a frosted glass pane on the person's right hand. That door was open only a crack.

  "We are here to see Mr. Merriman on a very important matter." Stanislaus addressed the young man.

  "And your name?"

  "Jurekovitch." Anya blurted out. She had no intention of giving Charles any advance warning.

  "One moment." The young man went into the other office. In a short time he returned with Keetering.

  "Mrs. Jurekovitch. How may I be of service today?" Charles held out his hand.

  Anya allowed her fingers to the held for just a few seconds. "This is very personal business. Is there any place where we can talk in complete privacy?"

  Anya attempted a Russian accent. Charles' forehead was wrinkled in thought as he stared at Stanislaus then Anya.

  "Yes, certainly, if it is that confidential, we can go up to my quarters above."

  Charles led the way through another door at the back of his office to a hall and stairway. There was a back door, which was also propped open to allow air to circulate. The door at the head of the stairs was ajar as well.

  A slight breeze stirred the curtains at the windows when Charles entered the living quarters with Anya and Stanislaus behind him. A young, quite pregnant Chinese woman sat on a sofa embroidering.

  Anya lifted the veil and folded it up over the hat.

  "Cherry, my wife may I present," Charles turned and looked at Anya. "Anya! Dear God!"

  He turned white, as he nearly fell onto the other end of the sofa. Anya found a chair directly across from Charles. "I hope this is not an unpleasant surprise. I understand you thought I was dead."

  "Unpleasant? Oh no! You have no idea how relieved I am to see you are alive and well." Charles looked at Stanislaus. "Now I recognize you, Mr. Rakov. Have a seat sir. Would you like some water perhaps? I do find the heat oppressive, as does Cherry, my wife."

  Stanislaus now understood why the tong was angry with Charles. The woman would have brought them a substantial profit. She was delicate and very pretty. This was going to be interesting. There was no way Charles could give Anya a divorce. Stanislaus ground his teeth in frustration.

  "Water would be nice Charles. Oh sorry, Edward." Anya replied.

  Cherry went to rise. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Charles Edward stopped her. "I will get it."

  He disappeared for a moment, before returning with four glasses of water on a tray. Walking around the room, he passed the glasses out. Returning to the sofa, Charles placed the tray on a side table. P
icking up his glass, he took a large drink.

  "As relieved as I am I see you, I do understand we face certain difficulties, which need to be addressed. I assume you have found me in order to secure a divorce."

  "Very good assumption Edward." Anya nodded.

  "I can assure you, Charles Edward Kettering is well and truly dead, never to rise. Cherry and I married under assumed names."

  He took another drink and put the glass on the side table. "We can do you no harm. Anya, you and I were not right for each other. Now, tell me what on earth happened to you. You know, I really did repent of being a horrible husband and an utter ass."

  "There was a ransom note in the valise. I have no idea where or how the note got bloody, but it was the kidnapper's intent to extort money and the deed to my father's estate near Yeniseysk, in Siberia. I escaped. I made my way across Siberia to Okhotsk were I found a vessel and was taken home to my family."

  "Siberia? I am amazed. Although, I suppose I should not be. You are a most extraordinary woman. My Cherry is as well. She threw herself from a second story window into an alley in San Francisco to escape slavery and disgrace."

  Charles Edward looked at Stanislaus. "We are lucky men Mr. Rakov."

  Anya smiled at Cherry. "I do understand Mrs. Merriman. Sometimes we must take desperate measures to escape horrible things."

  Cherry nodded. "Edward, he is good to me. I love him much. Shortly we shall have child."

  She gestured toward Stanislaus. "Your husband?"

  "No. Unfortunately not, which is a very big problem for us." Anya responded to Cherry's question.

  "Edward think of plan. He is very smart." Cherry nodded.

  Anya took a sip of her water as she thought. Then she lowered the glass. "At the moment Edward, you are the bigamist. Not that I hold it against you, you understand." She tapped the glass with her fingers. "Perhaps we should make the death of Keetering official. Samuel, my great uncle still has quite a few vessels involved in shipping. I understand shanghaiing is quite a common thing in San Francisco."