Night Storm

by Catherine Coulter

  “O’Shay’s a wild man.”

  “Just in a tavern, Miss Genny. Get him on the deck of a vessel and he turns magic. He says it’s the magic of the Irish. Your pa always said it was the magic of the soul.”

  On the Night Dancer, Alec was discussing the situation with his native Baltimorean, Mr. O’Shay, who’d lived locally nearly all his life and spoke with the thickest Irish brogue Alec had ever heard.

  “Aye, and sure enough, milord, it’s a hurricane we’ll have to chill our bones. The lass ahead in the clipper, well, I hope and pray she’ll know what’s to be done. Her pa always said she was a bright’un, female or no.”

  “And that is?”

  “If she knows what she’s about, she’ll sheer off and head direct to Hatteras. Pamlico Sound, sure enough, into the inlet and on to Ocracoke. It’s a deep inlet, the only place I’d choose to ride out the storm.”

  “We need to catch that clipper, O’Shay. If something happens, I want to be there.”

  “Sure and we’ll do it, milord.”

  Genny had never been so wet in her life. It became natural to be wet and cold, her fingers numb. She’d found another wool cap and flattened it over her braided hair. The wind could flay the flesh off a person’s face. She tried to keep her back to it, but the winds switched from the east to the north with no notice and no predictability.

  The men were as miserable-looking as she was, but they kept to it, knowing that each of them was responsible and that if they weren’t, they could all die. No one wanted to die.

  My first voyage out and this is what happens. It isn’t fair. It isn’t even ironic. It isn’t what should have happened.

  She drove her fist against her thigh and grimaced.

  The wind was howling now, stronger than it had been but a moment before. She judged its speed to be around fifty miles per hour. The clipper made headway only when the wind was behind them; then she shot forward as if from a cannon. Most of the time they were tacking, sheering off again and again, praying, watching the waves wash over the decks.

  A damnable hurricane. There was no fairness at all in life.

  “We’ll be to Hatteras in another hour, I’d say,” Daniels said, spitting, thankfully, away from the wind.

  It was daylight, the sky a dirty gray, the rain now clearly visible, coming down and whipping about in thick sheets. The wind was bursting behind them and the clipper was making speeds that were unheard of.

  “Maybe less if the winds stay where they are,” Genny said.

  She wanted the winds to hold steady. They would push the barkentine forward as well.

  The shrieking was becoming unearthly. Genny shuddered, then resolutely took the wheel from a fatigued Daniels.

  “Get us coffee,” she shouted.

  It was half rain and cold when she got it, but she drank it off in one healthy slug.

  When Diamond Shoals came in sight, Genny yelled and pointed. The men turned, saw it, and cheered just as loudly. From behind them, the barkentine shot from the center of the dense black clouds, propelled by the increasing winds at her back.

  The men on the barkentine heard the shouts from the clipper, and they yelled back.

  Genny had never felt such profound relief in her life.

  Which was stupid, given the fact that they had to negotiate the shallow waters of Pamlico Sound to the deep inlet of Ocracoke. She prayed then, a very simple, straightforward prayer.

  “Please, God, save Alec and save the Pegasus.”

  Snugger heard her words and shouted over the winds, “Pray for me, too, if you will, Miss Genny. I’m too sweet and too important to the ladies to feed the fish just yet.”

  She smiled and added Snugger’s name after the clipper’s.

  The wind was gaining in force. They managed to round Diamond Shoals and head into the inlet. The wind almost tore Genny’s oilskin off her back. She clutched it together at her throat between numb, nearly blue fingers.

  She turned the wheel back to Daniels. If anyone on the face of the earth could get them to Ocracoke, it was Daniels.

  And O’Shay.

  Alec held the spyglass to his eye. He could make out Genny; her cap had blown off and her hair was whipping about her head. He saw her step away from the wheel to be flung to the side by the gale-force wind.

  “For God’s sake, take care.”

  He watched her, his stomach in his throat, as she gracefully grabbed the foremast rigging. She was looking up at one of the sailors who was clutching at the ratlines in a frozen panic.

  The wind howled and shrieked. The Night Dancer heaved and groaned, her timbers cracking ominously under the strain of the heavy stays topside.

  Twenty minutes later the Night Dancer rounded Diamond Shoals, lurching sharply to starboard.

  “Thank God,” Genny said. “We’ll make it, both of us.”

  Snugger wasn’t so certain. The winds were buffeting the lightly stayed clipper, pushing her toward the treacherous shallows in the sound, flinging her about in the whipping water as if she were naught but a toy. Genny knew exactly what was happening. She shouted orders to the men until she was hoarse.

  Snugger never tired of bellowing out what she said.

  “Get that main-topmast staysail in! Another reef in the tops’ls!”

  The Pegasus was rolling and plunging like a mad thing now in the choppy waters of the sound, like a very insubstantial mad thing, Genny thought in growing despair.

  “Heave to! It’s blowing a full gale now, Capt’n!”

  “You’re drifting leeward, Daniels! Hold her steady!”

  Genny managed to keep half her attention on the barkentine behind them. It was lurching and shuddering, battering her way through the waves, keeping close, keeping steady.

  “Man the halyards! Daniels, hard astarboard!”

  On and on it went, as both vessels lurched and plunged through the sound toward the inlet. The barkentine gained on the clipper, its greater size and ability to stay firm holding it in good stead.

  “Nearly to her,” said O’Shay.

  “Oh, God, look at the foremast!”

  This was from Abel Pitts. Alec stared and stared again. The sails were tightly reefed, the stays and masts looking nearly naked in the stark gray sky.

  “The mast just might go,” said O’Shay quite unemotionally. “Nothing to do about it. I ain’t ever seen a foremast raked so much afore.”

  “Hell, man, they can steer into the wind and keep out of the crosscurrents.”

  “Aye, and sure enough, milord, but the sound’s too tricky. They’ve got to hold course, keep right on the line they’re going. And pray they get to the deep inlet.”

  The mighty barkentine plowed through the smashing white waves that flecked the gray sea. Gallons of frigid water sprayed wildly over the quarterdeck. Alec could see the waves completely cover the deck of the clipper. God, Genny, stay safe. Hang on.

  But she was in command. She didn’t move from her post beside the wheel. He could see her lips move, then vaguely heard a man’s awesomely loud voice over the roaring winds.

  He’d never been so scared in his life.

  This race was supposed to have been a competition with no danger. He’d envisioned waving to Genny in the warm, balmy breezes of Nassau as his barkentine passed her clipper. What a fool he’d been. A damnable race in November. He hadn’t realized. But Genny had, he knew it, but she’d wanted to be rid of him so much that she’d said nothing, knowing the danger and disregarding it. Because she’d wanted the shipyard and she hadn’t wanted him.

  He’d kill her if she survived this.

  “I want to board the clipper,” he shouted to Abel. “Once we’re in the inlet, I want to board her.”

  “Aye, aye, Capt’n.”

  Seventeen

  Genny held her breath watching the barkentine lurch and shudder and roll as the vessel battered its way through the waves toward them.

  She shut her eyes then, sending a prayer heavenward. Alec was closing fast now. No mat
ter what happened, at least he would be near her through this.

  The Pegasus tacked as the wind veered off to starboard. Even as they came about, the clipper was twisted by the howling winds that were mercilessly pulling them leeward.

  For many minutes it was pandemonium. Finally the winds shifted once again, dropping off slightly, and the clipper continued toward the deep inlet of Ocracoke Island.

  Alec was frozen with fear as he watched.

  “’Tis well and right the lass is, Capt’n,” said O’Shay, his cheerful voice making Alec want to throttle him.

  “How much farther to the inlet and the island?”

  “Nearly there now. See that spit of land and those pine trees and live oaks? A full blower of a hurricane will wash over Ocracoke, but those blasted trees will still be there when it’s over.”

  Alec stared out at the stunted trees and the flat and barren land. He shivered. He wouldn’t like to be marooned on that point of miserable land.

  Genny wasn’t quite certain how they’d accomplished it, but they finally sailed into the deep waters of the Ocracoke inlet.

  “Head her directly into the wind,” she told Daniels.

  The shortened, reefed sails were brought in completely and tied firmly down. She saw one of the men nearly torn off the rigging by the swirling winds and yelled. Of all things, he swiveled about, his legs hooked through the ratlines, and gave her a big grin and a salute, then shimmied down to the deck. The tall masts stood naked above them. Genny gave a thorough look around the clipper. Everything was battened down. There was nothing else to do now but ride out the storm.

  The barkentine was drawing nearer. Genny could make Alec out, swathed in oilskins, his head bare. He was pointing, shouting out orders she couldn’t understand.

  What was he doing?

  When she realized that he intended to jump aboard the clipper, she felt as if she’d swallowed fourteen prune pits and all of them were sitting in her belly. Was he insane? It was dangerous, far too dangerous. Oh, God, he was going to do it. If the winds shifted suddenly, they could send the bark into the clipper’s side. If the winds increased, they could lurch the bark forward, slamming her into the clipper’s bow. The world wasn’t made of ifs. It was made of now’s and of Alec coming to her. Genny kept her mouth shut, watching the bark’s progress.

  They could die in this storm. It was a thought that made her furious with herself, but it wouldn’t go away. She wanted him here with her.

  Nothing mattered but to be with him.

  The barkentine was drawing dangerously close. There was a sudden shift in the wind and Genny knew they’d be rammed. She clutched the base of the mainsail, preparing herself. But at the last instant, the bark sheered off. O’Shay was good, Genny saw. He was at the wheel and his fingers were dancing around the spokes and he was magic. She saw Alec, now poised on the railing of the barkentine.

  Four of her men were on the deck waiting for his jump.

  He leaped into the air. For an endless moment, the wind held him as if he were naught but a plaything; then just as suddenly it propelled him forward. He landed on his feet, his knees bent, then was pushed forward by the wind with great force. The impact didn’t faze him, though, for he rolled with it and came up on his feet, a wide smile on his face.

  Two sailors bounded toward him and shook his hand. There was cheering from the barkentine. Cheering from her own men. Genny stood there, smiling foolishly at her husband.

  O’Shay sheered off, and the barkentine’s bow lightly scraped against the clipper’s stern. Alec straightened and looked at his bride.

  She was safe. He walked to her, bowed in the howling wind, and when he was near, he stopped and held out his arms.

  Genny went into his embrace without hesitation.

  “You’re safe,” he said into her wet wool cap. “Thank God you’re safe. I couldn’t have borne it otherwise.”

  The feelings were too strong, too new, and thus she said, “You’ve left O’Shay in command?”

  He smiled down at her. “He’ll do just fine. I wanted to make certain you were safe.” His hands were all over her then, feeling her arms and her shoulders, closing about her face as he kissed her.

  She pulled back a bit. “We’re as safe as we can be. Anything can happen now, Alec, you know that. We’re headed into the wind and our sails are in. There’s nothing more to do but ride it out.”

  It was his turn to be silent for a moment; then, of all things, he smiled again, a wicked, go-to-the-devil smile, and his beautiful eyes became brilliant in the gloomy light. “A race to Nassau, that’s all I wanted. And look what you got me into, woman—a damnable hurricane. Genny, I wonder if I should beat you now or later.”

  “So this god-awful storm is my fault?”

  “I suppose not. Let’s get out of this wretched rain. You said everything’s battened down?”

  “Unlike your cumbersome barkentine, sir, my clipper has very little to batten down. Shall we go to the cabin? I’m leaving only three men topside. No need for everyone to be miserable at once.” She paused a moment, then continued deliberately. “If the worst happens, there’ll be time to come up on deck.”

  Alec didn’t like the sound of that, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. In all his years of traversing both the Atlantic and the Pacific, he’d endured his share of storms, but never before had he been in anything like this, in anything that resembled a hurricane of this force. Nothing that could rip his barkentine to pulpy shards. He stopped in his tracks. “You’ve strapped Daniels to the wheel?”

  She nodded. “Who knows how the winds will behave? O’Shay didn’t suggest that?”

  “Likely he will soon. After you, wife.”

  But Genny suddenly balked. She’d wanted Alec here with her more than anything, and for a moment she’d forgotten that the Pegasus was her responsibility and hers alone. The men who sailed the clipper were also her responsibility. “I’m the captain, Alec. I can’t leave Daniels here alone.”

  “What would you do were you to stay here?”

  “Talk to him. Help him get through things. Give him orders if necessary.”

  He said easily, his words blurred by the winds, “Come down with me just for a little while, then, love. Just to change into dry clothes.”

  Genny nodded. That was fine with her. She wanted to hold him, to reassure herself that he was all right and that he was hers.

  In the captain’s cabin, Genny lit the lantern, then made certain that it was securely fastened to the desktop. All any vessel needed in a hurricane was a fire. She turned to face her husband. “You took a risk with that jump, Alec. I was never so scared in all my life. You could have broken something.”

  “Would you have cared?”

  She grinned. “A bit, I suppose. After all, you were my valiant knight leaping through gloom to be at my side.”

  “Actually, I was just concerned about my clipper.”

  “No one risks dying for a thing, Alec,” she said mildly, not to be drawn.

  “You’re right about that. I didn’t hurt a thing, so you can forget it now. I might begin to think you’re showing wifely concern, Genny.”

  “I’d have to shoot you if you’d broken your leg, and I don’t happen to have a pistol with me.”

  He chuckled with her. “Off with those wet clothes.”

  “What about you?”

  He looked thoughtful. “I suppose it’s under the covers with me. Will you join me?”

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Alec, we’re in the middle of a hurricane. You want me to get into bed with you?”

  “Why not? There’s nothing we can do about nature. We’ll either die in the next twenty-four hours or we won’t.”

  “You’re sounding mighty philosophical about the end of things.”

  “Shush. Listen, Genny. Where’s the wind?”

  Dead silence. She felt prickles of apprehension crawl over her flesh.

  “We’re in the eye of the storm,” she wh
ispered into the silence.

  “How long will it last?”

  “I don’t know.” She stripped off her oilskins.

  Alec was out of his clothing in a thrice and under the warm covers of the bunk. They were blessedly dry.

  Genny was listening to the absolute silence, standing in the middle of the cabin with but a wet shirt on.

  “Genny, come here now—it’s cold.”

  She jumped at his voice, wheeled about to look at him, realized she was nearly naked, and squeaked.

  He laughed. “Come here.”

  She did, quickly, slipping off the shirt and easing in beside him as he lifted the covers for her. “Not long, Alec. I must go topside soon.”

  Alec drew her against the length of him. He smelled her wool cap and pulled it off her head, tossing it to the floor near the cabin door. “Shall I unbraid your hair for you?”

  “No. I’ll be going back on deck in a little while. I don’t need pounds of hair plastered to my face.”

  Alec frowned over her head and decided it was best to just come out with it. “Genny, love, you aren’t going anywhere until the hurricane is through with us.”

  “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

  “Just what I said. Be reasonable. I want you here, in this cabin, in this bunk, safe.”

  She grew as still as the wind. “So that’s why you risked your life to leap like a wild man onto my clipper. You didn’t want to be with me. You wanted to take over. You didn’t trust me—a simple-witted woman—to do what is right and proper.”

  “Yes and no to that,” Alec said. He wasn’t a fool. She was stiff as a board in his arms. Damnation, why couldn’t she be reasonable about things? He didn’t want to argue with her. He knew what was right and he intended that it be done. He said as much, his voice calm, reasonable. “I mean what I said. You’ll remain in the cabin, safe. I’ve just commandeered your vessel.”

  “The devil you have.”

  She wrenched away from him, smashing her fist against his shoulder and landing on her bottom on the cabin floor. It was very cold. Genny grabbed for her flannel robe and jerked it over her shoulders. “Stay away from me, Alec.”