CHAPTER 8
“This cannot be! I’ve not been gone twenty minutes, and when I left, she was asleep. Lydia! Lydia!” Ian looked around his cabin. There was no sign of her.
“How was she acting when you left her?” asked Doctor Miller.
“She was a wee bit strange. When I talked to her, she never answered me. Yet, if I told her to do something, she complied, even though she never spoke a word. When I first went into the cabin, she was scratching at the porthole, trying to lift the latch. She mumbled generally about being hot. Oh… and…she had ripped off the nightshirt I put on her. She was sweating a lot.”
“Now I understand,” said the Doctor. “She’s delirious from fever. Well, if it’s any consolation, she cannot have gone far. She is too weak. She may get chills again and seek warmth. She needs to be back here where we can tend to her. Surely she’s going to reach the crisis in the fever soon, if she’s not already in it.”
Ian’s bushy, auburn eyebrows move downward in a scowl. “Damn you, woman. Where can you be?” He got word to all the crew to be on the lookout for the young woman. She wouldn’t be hard to recognize – she was the only woman on the ship. Those not on duty were ordered to search all cabins, and unless the woman was in immediate danger, no one was to touch her. They were to report back to the captain immediately. He, and he alone, was to deal with her.
And hour passed and there was still no sign of Lydia. Captain Ian felt panic welling up inside his chest. As the sailors reported back they had not seen her, Ian grew angry. He ordered them to re-search each and every compartment a second time and to not report back until they had conducted a thorough search of every box, crate, cupboard, hold, cabin, or room, including the sail room.
Furious with himself that Lydia could have become lost on his ship, the Captain stormed back to his cabin and poured himself a scotch. In one gulp he guzzled the entire glass of alcohol and, in disgust, threw the glass against the armoire.
A small sob emanated from it. He puzzled. “What the hell was that?” He walked over to the armoire and looked behind it. There was no room behind it for a person to fit. “I must be losing my mind.” He moved over to his desk and searched underneath it. There was nothing there either. Lastly, he checked under his bed. Nothing.
Tired from the cold weather and the long day, the Captain sat down on the edge of his bed and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed the shirt onto the chair beside the bed and took off his boots. Each boot fell with a loud clunk onto the floor. Another soft sound.
Now he was more than suspicious. He marched over to the armoire and flung open the two large doors. There, on top of the heap of clothing sat Lydia. He guessed she must have taken the clothing down from the hooks. Lydia, still wheezed and cried quietly. Relief sped through his body.
“Lydia. So here’s where you’ve been! How in the world did you get here?” As he started to lift Lydia out of the armoire, he noticed she held an object wrapped in cloth very tightly in her arms. A sick feeling rumbled through him. No, she couldn’t have found it. I cannot risk any other person knowing about it. Furtively, he glanced around the room to make certain the lock was secured on his cabin door.
He reached down to Lydia’s arms and pulled the red velvet wrapped object from her. His worst fears came true. She had found it. Carefully, he unwrapped the object. Inside the soft cloth was a gold crown with an inlay of rubies and emeralds laid out in the design of a hibiscus flower and leaves. The rubies formed a hibiscus flower, and the emeralds represented the green leaves and stem all the way around the crown.
“Hopefully, you’re too delirious to remember this, Lassie. And if you weren’t, I hope you ken when to be silent about important matters.” He rewrapped the crown, placed it on his desk until he could put it in the hidden drawer in the armoire again, and then he lifted Lydia from the armoire and put her back to bed.
She never fully awoke, but continued to mewl quietly like a kitten. Her skin was clammy and beads of perspiration dripped down her forehead. He opened his door and called out to his first mate, Briggs, who came running to the Captain’s door.
“Yes sir, Captain. We ain’t found the lady yet.”
“Never mind,” said the captain. “I’ve found her. Tell the men to call off the search. Oh, by the way, tell Doctor Miller to come here right away.”
“Yes sir.” Briggs backed out the door and his steps could be heard clumping all the way up the steps to the main deck.
He closed the door to his quarters and walked to the armoire. “How did she ever manage to spring the lock?” he wondered. “I guess my hiding spot wasn’t so good, but I’ve not another place where I can be sure no one else has easy access.” He decided to lock his door from then on, in the hope she wouldn’t remember anything. He pulled out the clothing which had fallen to the bottom of the armoire, and he put all of his weight in the back corner. The trap door in the bottom popped up about half an inch. He lifted the trap door, placed the crown in the bottom of the metal box hidden within the armoire and closed and locked it.
Just as he closed the armoire doors, he heard Doctor Miller yelling outside his cabin door to let him in. When he came into the cabin, he asked, “Why did you have the door locked and …? You found her! Where in God’s creation was she?”
“She fell asleep in my armoire. Don’t ask me what made her go in there, I don’t have a clue. You should check on her, though. Then, perhaps we can both get a little sleep.”
Standing at the edge of the bed, the Doctor checked Lydia’s forehead. She was burning up. “I’m afraid she may be in the middle of the crisis now. She’s apparently been delirious all evening. We should take turns wiping her down with cool cloths, giving her water, and praying. She’s a very sick woman.”
Throughout the night, the Captain and Doctor took two-hour long shifts caring for Lydia. Occasionally, they could get her to take a bit of water, but her temperature never dropped, and her sleep was fitful. Both men finally fell asleep in their chairs as she quieted and drifted into a deep sleep. Daylight began to creep through the porthole.
***
“Oh. My head aches. Please… food. I’m so hungry.” Lydia began to stir beneath her blankets.
The Captain jumped up with a start. “You’re awake! Take it easy and I’ll get you water. Doctor, she’s awake.”
The Doctor’s gentle snoring ended abruptly. “What?”
“She’s awake, Doctor. You had best check on her while I get her water and maybe a bowl of broth. I think she’s going to be all right.” For the first time in two days, the Captain smiled broadly.
The doctor checked her pulse and felt her forehead. “You’re right, Captain. She’s a bit worse for the wear and tear, but I do believe she will be all right. She’ll need bed rest for the next week or so, but she’ll definitely make it.”
As the two men buzzed around Lydia, she looked at them in confusion. She recognized no one, although she had a vague memory of having been on a ship.
“Who are you two gentlemen? Where am I?” Lydia struggled to sit up in bed. When she looked down at her dress, she realized she was not in a dress, but in a man’s shirt, and slid back down beneath the covers in embarrassment.
“You’re aboard my ship, lass. The Emerald Tartan. I don’t mind telling you, I am very happy and relieved you’re all right. You’ve had us very worried for the last two days.”
“A bit more slowly please. What do you mean for the last two days?”
“Well, we figure you must have…”
Vague recollections came spinning back into Lydia’s mind. She screamed, “No. No! Where is Mama? This is wrong. That is not the name of the ship I was on. It was … The Wyndom Wydoh. How did I get here? Where is Mama?”
“Whoa. I was trying to tell you. We figured you must have climbed into the jollyboat during the storm, and a large wave loosened the jollyboat from the davits, and washed it ashore. Why were you up on deck?”
Lydia lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes.
Doctor Miller walked into the cabin with hot broth.
“What’s a bad dream?” asked the Doctor. “It’s so good to see you well and awake, Miss. How can that be a bad dream?”
“Doctor, you’ve missed part of the conversation. Lydia recalls what happened, more or less. It appears she probably did get washed overboard in the jollyboat during the storm. Her mother was on that ship with her.”
“Oh,” said Doctor Miller, blushing profusely at his lack of social graces and joking with Lydia about her misfortune. “Forgive me, miss. I meant no disrespect.” He handed her the large mug full of steaming broth.
“That’s all right. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” Focusing her attention back to the Captain, Lydia queried him. “Did you … I mean, were there signs of anyone else from my ship? Or were there any signs the ship didn’t make it?”
“No, lassie. You were the only person we found. And we found nothing else. No flotsam or jetsam at all – except the damaged jollyboat.”
Lydia carefully sipped the hot liquid. “My mother… She must be worried sick. What can we do to get word to her I am all right?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. We are on a tight schedule of our own. Headed for Hawaii as quickly as we can get there. But for now, you’d best rest. I have to be back on deck. We’re nearing an area of massive iceberg flows. We’ll check on you later. Would you care for more broth, or perhaps a little bread?”
“No, thank you. I’m just tired. I’ll rest a bit more.” Lydia hesitated “Captain, is it possible you could go to San Francisco before you sail to Hawaii?”
“No. That would add another four weeks or maybe five to our journey, and we cannot afford the luxury. We are to be in Hawaii no later than June twenty-fifth.”
“I see. It’s really quite important I get to San Francisco. You see, there is a position waiting for me there and…”
“Sorry, lass. But I cannot do it and make my own time schedule. Rest now. I’ll be back later.”
With that final comment, both the Captain and the Doctor bundled up in their heavy winter coats and left the cabin.
***
Against her will, Lydia fell asleep again. The warm broth had satiated both her need for liquids and for food. Her body needed rest. She did not sleep for long, however. Her circumstance came back to haunt her. She began to cry softly.
“What have I done? This cannot be. I finally take steps to get control of my life, and then, through a freak accident my control is taken away from me.”
For the next few days, she slept fitfully, in the twilight state between sleep and daydreaming, regaining her strength all the while. Images of living back in Chatham passed through her mind. It was like walking on eggshells – never knowing when her father’s tempered would explode. But she knew her life would be different now. Especially with the knowledge Matthew Holcomb was not her real father, she vowed to never go back to that existence. She would never live in fear of him again. She owed him nothing. He barely gave her a roof over her head all those years. No more than a man would give to a servant. That’s what she was to her Papa, a servant. Except, he was a twisted man. He wanted her to be his servant and for his own glorification, God’s servant. “Well, you lose, Papa. No matter what happens, you lose! I’ll never go back to England. You’ll never be allowed to order me about again,” she murmured.
***
Close to ten days had passed since the captain found Lydia on the beach. The only road open to Lydia now was to go on to San Francisco as soon as possible. She had to convince the Captain to go to San Francisco. That worry never left her mind.
That’s it! I’ll bargain with him to go to San Francisco, just like any business person would do. Lydia’s problem was she had very little to bargain with – not even the clothes on her back belonged to her. She sat up on the edge of the bunk. Maybe he won’t want anything she decided. Maybe, if she explained the seriousness of her situation and how much it meant to her, he would understand and change his course. She had to try.
Lydia searched around the room. I’ll get dressed and go up to talk to him. Uncontrollably, tears rolled down her cheeks. How can my life have changed so dramatically, she questioned herself?
“Lydia,” she said out loud to herself quite sternly. “Get a hold of yourself. You are in charge of your life now. Being emotional is not how men get their way. They negotiate, and it’s exactly what you are going to do. Your whole future depends on it. So quit sniveling and get going!”
Much to Lydia’s surprise, the tears dried up as she looked for old clothing she could put on. “He is certainly a tidy man. Nothing left out of place at all. I’ll have to look in his armoire.”
Lydia stood in front of the mammoth armoire. She experienced a feeling of familiarity about the armoire – as though she knew about its secret. There’s definitely an unusual quality about this piece of furniture, she thought. She opened the doors. It was so bizarre to her. How could the inside of a man’s armoire feel familiar to her? It was almost like déjà vu, as though she had been there previously.
She examined the stacks of folded clothing on the right side of the armoire, and the clothing hanging from pegs on the left side of the armoire. She thought to herself, “I’ve been in this armoire before. That’s what I think I’m feeling. Goodness. The fever must have really affected my thinking. Or, I’m going crazy.”
At last, she found a pair of worn blue trousers and a stained linen shirt. She hoped the Captain would not mind her wearing them. She needed to wear a piece of clothing instead of his nightshirt. Just as Lydia pulled on the shirt, the door to the cabin cracked open and the captain tiptoed in. He tip-toed into the doorway just in time to see Lydia standing in front of the armoire. She was dressed only in his old shirt – and it was not buttoned. Her fingers pulled the shirt closed in the front, but she was too stunned to do anything more.
“Sorry, Miss. I left my gloves on the desk. The wind is picking up quite a bit. It is too cold to man the helm without my gloves.”
The captain walked over to his desk and picked up his gloves. Embarrassed, he turned around to leave, but Lydia blocked his way.
“Captain, don’t go yet. I must speak with you… about San Francisco. I can pay you, if you sail there there first before going on to Hawaii.”
The captain didn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes from Lydia. The shirt only covered Lydia to the middle of her thighs. Her legs were shapely with well-formed calves and slender ankles. She had pulled the shirt closed so tightly in the front, the outline of her nipples protruded from beneath the soft linen. A familiar warmth spread through Captain Ian’s loins.
“What?” asked Captain Ian, not paying any attention to Lydia’s words.
“I said, I can pay you. If you’ll stop in San Francisco on your way to Hawaii, when I arrive in San Francisco, my employer has agreed to pay me thirty pounds. I’ll give it all to you.”
He laughed. “Thirty pounds! ‘Tis not nearly enough. Besides, as I said earlier, money is not the issue. The assignment I’m working on is paying me more than enough money. But for me to earn the money, I have to get to Hawaii on time – in June. So you see, money is not the issue. I simply cannot go to San Francisco, because I don’t have the time. We can ta
lk about this later. I must get back up on deck because my first mate doesn’t have much knowledge about the tricks to avoiding icebergs. If I don’t get up there quick, none of us will go anywhere, except to the bottom of the sea.”
Frustration burned fiercely within her outwardly calm exterior. “No!”
“What did you say?”
It was clear to Lydia he was not used to anybody disagreeing with him. “No. I said no! Every man has his price and you’re no different. What is your price? I’ll pay it.” She tried to strike a pose she hoped the Captain would find alluring.
His hazel eyes looked her up and down. He hesitated. “Like I said a minute ago, money is not the issue.”
She squinted her eyes in anger and frustration. “You just don’t understand how important this is to me! If I don’t get to San Francisco soon, I’ll lose my job. Lord Saxonby and his wife will find another woman to take my position, believing I am dead. I will not lose this opportunity! I don’t care what it costs me!”
There was no doubt in Lydia’s mind she had an effect on Captain Ian. She stood transfixed, staring at the huge bulge in his trousers. He looked down and realized what she was staring at. Without another thought, he reached down to his trousers and smoothed out the bulge as much as possible. “You heard me lass. Get back into bed, rest for a while, and think about what you are doing! You are not a whore, so you might think twice before pulling a stunt like …”
A deafening crunch and the sound of splintering wood stopped the Captain’s words. Lydia heard the alarm bell sounding. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked.
It was as though a dark cloud had passed over the captain’s face. “Damn you, woman! We’ve hit an iceberg. And it is all my own fault because I stood down here with you and argued when I should have been at the helm. You’d better pray we sink. Because if we don’t sink, I’ll … I’ll … I don’t know right now what I’ll do, but you will be punished. You’d better get back into that bed and don’t get out of it until I tell you to do so!”
The Emerald Tartan Page 7