This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  A shot whizzed by his head, hitting the edge of a large wooden crate and sending it crashing down from its moorings on the port foredeck. It hit a seaman, who smashed against the deck with an agonized cry.

  And then another shot fell astern. "Four points starboard!" Derek cried. The Confederate battery continued to fire, and the Pamlico steamed along. But the deck was a mass of confusion, with the crewmen running for cover.

  Another shot screamed through the night, and this time the Pamlico was hit. Fire shot upward like a giant fist of crimson against the black sky.

  "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

  Derek heard the cries fill the air. He heard men shrieking as they clambered over the railings to jump into the water. They would try to swim back to shore, but he knew they would never make it. They were too far out at sea.

  Another shot split the sky, this one landing so as to splinter the port side. It was all over. Derek gave the order to abandon ship, but no one was listening to him any longer, as each man fought to save his own life. Fights broke out over rafts, boards, anything that might keep a man afloat.

  Derek turned his head at the sound of a blood-curdling scream and saw a man running across the crowded deck, his whole body aflame. Someone else knocked him down with one mighty swing from a rifle, and he was left to die in agony.

  Derek knew they could be hit again at any second, and this time they would be sent straight into eternity. Any other time he, too, would have scrambled to jump overboard. He wasn't about to honor that age-old rubbish about a captain going down with his ship. Besides, he reasoned wryly as he made his way below, he wasn't really the damned captain anyway. The Confederacy wouldn't bestow such an honor upon him after he'd lost his ship. He was just the pilot. Although technically in command, nevertheless it wasn't his ship going down, and he saw no need for a heroic stand.

  The only "heroics" he had in mind were saving Julie. Alone, helpless, she didn't stand a chance, and he wasn't about to leave her below to sink with the ship.

  He stepped over a body, shoved someone aside with a sharp jab of his elbow. The scene was one of mass confusion and hysteria, punctuated by the screams of those already hit and wounded, who knew they were going to be left behind to die.

  Smoke stung at Derek's eyes. The Pamlico was burning, and he had no way of knowing if there was time to make his way below before the ship was caught in the suction that would pull it beneath the surface and to the bottom of the ocean. But he had to try to make it. He had to.

  Bursting through the cabin door, he could see Julie in the red glow that was coming through the porthole from the burning deck above. She was sitting on the side of the bunk, staring about, dazed. And then she lifted confused eyes and gasped, "Derek. It—it is you...

  "No time to talk, Julie." He lifted her as effortlessly as though she were no more than a sack of flour, threw her over his wide shoulder, and turned back toward the door.

  "Derek, what's happening?" she cried then, smelling the smoke, struggling against the rough way she was being carried. "Tell me—I have to know...."

  Ignoring her pleas, Derek stepped into the narrow hallway and turned toward the steps. His heart froze as he saw the flames licking at the top, knew he and Julie were trapped from that end. As he turned to go the other way, Julie also glimpsed the fire and screamed in terror.

  Derek ran down the passageway toward the other ladder that led up. Just then the ship gave a sudden lurch downward, and he stumbled against the wall, struggling to remain upright.

  Water began pouring through the opening above. They were sinking. His heart racing, he made a lunge for the ladder, yelling at Julie to hold on. "I've got to use both arms to get us up. You must hold tight to me...."

  Terrified, she looped both arms about his neck and clung to his body as he began to make the ascent.

  Then a blast of water hit them, and Julie gasped and choked and tried to scream and couldn't. She realized that the ship was indeed sinking, and they were headed straight for the bottom.

  Derek felt something hit the side of his head, and for a moment he struggled to remain conscious. The water would be filled with cargo that had come unleashed, every bit of it a potential barrier to their struggle to reach the surface. They were completely under water and sinking lower because the ship's suction was pulling them down. Derek could only pray that Julie would hang onto him, as he was having to use his arms to fight his way through the tumbling cargo and could not keep a grip on her.

  Then he felt her arms slipping. For a split second he reached out and shoved her arms back around him, hoping she felt the reassuring squeeze he tried to bestow to let her know that if there were any way possible, he'd get them out of this, but she had to do her part. She had to fight. God, she had to find the strength, and she was such a tiny thing. He scarcely felt her weight as she clung to him weakly.

  Derek's head reached the surface of the water, and as he gulped in the sweet, fresh air, he felt Julie let go. Quickly he dropped back down, groping in the cold, dark waters. His fingers touched her long, stringy hair, and he yanked upward until the two of them were struggling to keep their heads above water.

  Holding her tightly against him with one arm, he used his other to tread water, kicking his legs to move away from what was left of the burning ship. He could make out objects floating all about them, crates and soaking cotton bales which would eventually absorb water sufficiently to sink. He could see lights, knew that the Yankees would probably fire a few more shots to take care of any survivors, but they would not dare move closer in for fear of being hit by the Confederate battery on shore.

  A strong wind was starting to blow. The sea was getting rough. Derek knew it was futile to try to make it to land, because the tide was moving out. He was a strong swimmer, and without Julie perhaps he could have made it, but he wasn't concerned about himself at the moment. Julie was the weaker, and without him, she would die. And while he felt a mixture of emotions, he wasn't going to try to sort out his thoughts at the moment. He would struggle to save her as well as himself, and later there would be time to try to understand why he'd suddenly felt such a burning need to keep this girl alive at the risk of losing his own life.

  Something struck his shoulder hard, and he almost lost his grip on her. It was a long, flat crate, bobbing up and down sharply in the ever-roughening seas. "Julie..." he cried loudly above the wind. "Julie, can you hear me?" She was so still, so quiet, that he wondered if she'd lost consciousness.

  She stirred, moaned, muttered something about being so very cold.

  "Listen to me," he ordered in the tone he always used with his crewmen—harsh, authoritative, with an air of finality. "I'm going to shove you up on this crate, and you hang on tight, do you understand? A storm's brewing and we've got to cling to something, or else we'll drown. Now when I shove you up, you hang on tight till I can get up there too. If you let go and I lose you again, you'll die. Do you hear me? You'll die...."

  "Myles..." she whispered, then coughed and choked as her mouth filled with the churning salt water. "Myles... will die...."

  "No, you will die if you don't hang on," he snapped. He fastened his strong hands around her tiny waist and lifted her up and out of the water and onto the bobbing crate. There was not time to make sure she was following his orders and gripping its sides. He had to get himself up on the wooden object before it was swept away from him in the increasingly wild current.

  A wave washed completely over him, and Derek felt the flesh from his fingers being ripped away on the wooden side of the crate as he fought to hang on. Rising to the surface once again, he pulled himself up, then fell on top of Julie, pinning her beneath him.

  Spread-eagling his body, Derek stretched his arms out so that his fingers were clinging tightly to each side of the crate as he lay on his stomach, face pressed against Julie's head.

  "We've got to ride it out, Julie," he screamed above the howling wind. "This is one of those nor'easters that blow up so quick, but it shouldn't
last long. We'll make it...."

  Julie had mercifully lost consciousness once again, weakened by the ordeal, her breathing labored because of the weight of the man above her, pinning her down.

  Derek's fingers were growing numb, and his legs ached from the pressure he exerted to hold them pinioned on the crate. The waves tossed and rolled, and several times he thought they were going to be thrown into the water, but because of his size and strength, he was able to cling to the bucking, heaving object and ride out the storm.

  His eyes were growing heavy, despite the nervous tension that coursed through his veins. Was it his imagination or were the waters really becoming calmer? The wind had died down. The sun began to rise in the east. He could dare to close his eyes for just a moment. Every muscle, every bone, felt as though it were on fire. He could hang on, and still rest....

  "Derek, I can't breathe—"

  His eyes flashed open. Julie was struggling beneath him. The sun blazed down on his bare back. Lifting his head, he saw that the ocean was calm once more, and the waves that rolled them along were not dangerous. God, he wondered, how long had he slept?

  Julie twisted her body again. "Derek, move, please," she cried. "I can't breathe."

  He looked at the crate to gauge its size. Cautiously he moved his hands from the edge, placing his weight on his forearms as he lifted his body. "Careful," he told her. "I'm going to sit back and try to keep us balanced while you move from under me."

  In a few moments they were sitting opposite each other, and he saw that she was almost naked, her dress hanging in strips. He gave her a sideways grin and nodded to her exposed breasts as he murmured, "I always wanted to be adrift with a mermaid."

  Following his gaze, she gasped, folding her arms quickly across her bosom as she said tartly, "You haven't changed a bit, Derek Arnhardt."

  He began to laugh.

  "Oh, how can you sit there and laugh?" she demanded, her arms falling away from her breasts as she realized it was futile to attempt to keep herself covered in her present predicament. Besides, the way the crate they were riding upon kept bobbing up and down on the waves, she felt more secure with her hands gripping its edges.

  "We're in the middle of the ocean, sitting on a wooden box, and you can sit there and laugh about it. Would you mind telling me what happened?"

  "We didn't make it through the blockade," he said, as though it were all quite simple. "The Yankees spotted us, fired, and hit the ship. It caught on fire and sank. I saved your life, in case you're interested."

  "I'm not so sure you have saved it," she said doubtfully, looking around at the endless water blending into sky in every direction. "I suppose we'll either drown when this crate finally sinks, or we'll starve, or..."

  Suddenly her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. "Derek..." she whispered, feeling quite foolish as she realized that she had actually seen him for the first time... actually was aware of his presence. "Derek—it is you...."

  Her arms reached out to him so suddenly that the crate pitched precariously, and he fought to steady the structure at the same time that one of his arms folded her against his chest. "Yes," he murmured, nuzzling her soft, damp hair with his lips. "It's me, and we're going to be all right. A passing ship will see us sooner or later. This is a rather sturdy crate, or it would've sunk during last night's storm." But they had not yet reached the Gulf Stream, he thought silently, so there was actually little chance of a ship passing by.

  He cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her lips for a deep, soul-stirring kiss that left both of them shaken. Releasing her, he smiled fondly. "You're still beautiful. I've lain awake many a night thinking how I once held you, and if it weren't for tipping us over, I think I'd take you here and now."

  "You wouldn't dare!" She moved away. Then, lowering her gaze, she realized that indeed, he just might dare, and she felt a stirring in her own loins as she admitted shamefully to herself that she would enjoy knowing his body once again.

  Hoping he did not notice her trembling, she took a deep breath and said, "Let's talk of other things to pass the time. Tell me how you escaped when they forced you overboard."

  "I used the knife you gave me," he replied. "I had the good sense to be as still as possible so I wouldn't draw the sharks to me once I cut the ropes. Then, when I thought it was safe, I swam to the Yankee ship and held onto their anchor line. When the Ariane was blown up, I managed to find a piece of the wreckage to cling to till my crew came out to investigate the explosion. They found me."

  "You make it sound so simple," she gasped, stunned.

  "It may sound that way now, but at the time, I was scared to death." He laughed softly, then said, "Let's talk about you, Julie, and what's happened to you all these many months. How did you come to be hiding in the hold of my ship with a Reb deserter?"

  She gestured helplessly. "I really don't know where to begin. So much has happened, so much heartache—" her voice broke, and she struggled to regain her composure.

  Derek was a strong man, and he probably hated a weak woman, and she needed him—not only to help her survive, but to help her rescue Myles.

  Derek grinned slowly. "It seems we've got all the time in the world for talk." He gestured at the endless sea that surrounded them.

  And so she began, telling him everything and leaving nothing out. When she finished, she looked at him beseechingly and asked, "Do you see now why I had to find you, Derek? You're the one person who can help me get my brother out of Libby prison."

  He frowned. "I'm not so sure, Julie. You're talking about breaking a man out of a place where there are hundreds of guards."

  "But I've a cousin there who might help," she explained anxiously, and told him about Thomas.

  Derek's eyes looked doubtful. "I don't think he'll be much help. It's dangerous, and I see no way—"

  "Derek, I'll do anything you ask," she whispered in desperation. "Anything at all. You asked me to be your mistress once, and I refused. If you'll help me free Myles, then I'm yours, any way you want me. He's all I've got left, and I've got to do what I can to help him."

  He stared at her for a long time. Finally he said, "I make no bargains with you. We don't even know if we'll survive."

  "But if we do survive—"

  "You'd better take off what's left of your dress and cover your face." He wanted to change the subject. "Your skin is going to blister and swell."

  "What about you?" she blinked.

  He began to unfasten his trousers. I'm going to cover myself as the need arises. If you're embarrassed after all those hours we frolicked naked, then you'll have to cope as best you can. Survival is the important thing now."

  The sun beat down mercilessly, and Julie covered her face as Derek instructed. She watched as he tore his trousers into strips, moving the cloth about his body as the skin reddened.

  The day wore on, and when darkness began to fall Julie felt better, even though her stomach was knotted with hunger and her throat and lips were parched and aching for water. "Sleep," Derek whispered soothingly, brushing her hair back from her face so that the cooling evening breeze could kiss her feverish skin. "I'll stay awake in case a storm brews and the seas get rough."

  As she closed her eyes, Julie wondered wearily why she always felt so protected in his presence. Surely they would survive. She just felt it in her bones, because Derek Arnhardt filled her with a sense of comfort that was unexplainable but satisfying.

  "Did you hear that?"

  Julie sat up, startled at the sound of Derek's excited shout. The crate tipped, and they both struggled to keep it from turning over. "Julie, did you hear it?" he repeated.

  Her ears and eyes were straining, immediately alert. She could barely make out the first pink hem of dawn that touched the eastern horizon. But the only sound she heard was the gentle lapping of the water against the bobbing crate.

  "It was a bird. I know damned well it was a bird." He slapped his hands angrily against his thighs. "I didn't doze off. I've been awake all
night, and I know I wasn't hearing things. I heard a bird cry."

  Julie yawned, rubbing her hands against her bare shoulders, grateful for the chill. Soon the sun would rise and the unbearable heat would be upon them to blister and burn them once again. "What difference does it make, Derek? How is a bird going to help us unless he happens to land and we can eat him."

  "I'm hungry enough to eat one raw, that's for sure," he said. "But a bird means land is nearby, Julie."

  "Oh, praise God!" Now she shared his excitement, and they sat very quietly, listening, and then they both heard it and screamed in delight.

  "There!" Derek was yelling, and she could barely make out where his arm was extended, pointing. "Land. An island. I can just see it. And we're drifting toward it. Paddle, Julie. Use your hands and paddle so we don't get washed out to sea should the tide start to change. We've got about a mile to go. We can make it. I know we can...."

  She followed his lead, thrashing her hands wildly in the water in a rhythmic motion to match his. Slowly, steadily, the wooden crate began to move toward the island. And as the sky grew rosier and it became lighter, they could see that it was indeed a small island. And there were trees. When they came closer, Derek commented that there would probably not be food, "But God, we'll eat leaves, roots, anything. I'll wade out and catch fish with my hands if I have to. We can't just keep drifting. This is a chance, Julie. It's our chance to live...."

  It seemed to take forever, but then all of a sudden the crate hit a sand bar. Derek leaped over the side, and Julie could see that he was standing thigh-deep in the water. He held out his arms to her and she fell into them, laughing and crying all at once. They began to wade toward the island, but then Derek turned and clutched at the crate, saying they had to drag it with them.

  "I don't know what's in the damn thing. Maybe it's something we can use."