“Poor girl,” Sarah said.
“Cruel father,” Angeline added with such spite, it jarred Eliza.
“Did you have a difficult father?” Sarah asked her.
“No, my parents were wonderful.” She glanced down at the plate in her lap. “My father was. I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry.” The deck canted, and Eliza clutched the edge of her plate to keep it from falling off her lap. Others did not fare so well as clanks and clinks followed by groans bounced over the deck. She glanced up to assess the damage and found Hayden staring at Angeline from his position by the starboard railing. Not just staring, seemingly mesmerized by her. Eliza leaned toward her friend. “I believe you have an admirer.”
Angeline followed her gaze to the handsome man, her face pinking. “I hope not. He’s agreeable enough, albeit a bit mysterious, but I didn’t come on this voyage to find a husband.” In defiance of her statement, her eyes searched the ship as if looking for someone. But then her smile instantly snapped into a tight line, and she lowered her chin. Eliza looked up to see Dodd staring at her with neither the same attraction nor the interest of Hayden. But rather a look of puzzlement, coupled with a hint of contempt.
Angeline coughed and drew in a shredded breath.
“Whatever is wrong, Angeline?” Eliza handed her a cup of water. “Here, drink this.”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She took a sip, her quivering hand nearly spilling the fluid. She set her plate and cup on the deck and pressed fingers on her forehead. “I’m not feeling well.”
“So sudden?” Eliza stared at her quizzically then back at Dodd, whose gaze had not left the lady. Whether he recognized her from somewhere or not, it wasn’t polite to stare. Setting down her own plate, Eliza intended to march over there and tell him just that when Angeline stayed her with a touch. More like a tight grip on her arm. Fear blazed in her eyes as she shook her head. “Please don’t.”
“I don’t know why you fear him or what happened between you,” Eliza said. “But at the very least, he should be instructed on proper decorum. I can have the colonel speak to him if you’d like.”
Angeline swallowed. “No, please. Let it be.”
“Very well.” Eliza sat back, noting that Dodd had the audacity to continue staring at the lady, though her discomfort was obvious to all. Tearing her gaze from him, Eliza turned to tell Angeline that if she’d only confide in her, maybe Eliza could help, but a large crack, like the snapping of a giant whip, split the sky above. Then without warning, rain gushed on them as if they’d sailed under a faucet. Eliza assisted Sarah and her baby toward the main hatch, where people, hunched over, fled in mass. She only hoped this new storm wasn’t a portent of another coming disaster.
CHAPTER 25
Blake darted across the sodden deck to the railing as fast as his wounded leg would allow. Screening his eyes from the sun, he peered into the distant haze, looking for any sign that the “Land ho” he’d just heard from the crosstrees was indeed true. He glanced over his shoulder to see the captain raise a telescope to his eye and peer through it for what seemed an eternity before he shouted, “Land indeed. We have reached Brazil, gentlemen!”
Clapping and cheering ensued as passengers and crew alike sped to the railings vying for a glimpse of their new home. Blake couldn’t help but give his own cheer. After the downpour last night, he had his doubts they’d ever find Brazil. And though they still had several miles to traverse to get to Rio, just the sight of land helped ease his spirit that they were going to make it after all.
Eliza threw a hand to her aching head. She’d heard the cries of land an hour ago and should have risen from her bed—hammock—along with Angeline and Sarah, but she hadn’t slept a wink last night. Instead, she’d done nothing but wrestle with the itchy canvas and tangle her sheets into a hopeless knot. Tossing that knot aside, she climbed out of her hammock, her bare feet landing on the deck with a thump. Though she had no interest in viewing a land she would never enjoy, perhaps it was better to go above than to lie here and feel her frustration rise along with the heat.
Ah, what she wouldn’t give for a proper toilette: a basin of freshwater scented with lavender, a bar of soap, cucumber cream for her dry skin, her favorite heliotrope perfume, powder to scrub her teeth, a proper mirror, and a maid to comb the tangles out of her hair. Ah yes, and a bath! But all she had was a simple comb, a small mirror, and a bowl of stale water that smelled worse than she did. After doing her best to freshen up and pin up her hair, Eliza dressed and rose onto the main deck to the glare of a full sun and fresh morning breeze.
The first thing she saw nearly sent her scrambling back below.
Blake cradled Lydia in his arms. The tiny baby appeared no bigger than a mouse against his rounded biceps and wide chest. Yet the adoring look in his eyes as he glanced down at her, and the awkwardness in his stance, as if the babe were made of porcelain made Eliza weak in the knees. He gently eased Lydia back to her mother, and Eliza turned lest he see her staring at him.
Making her way to the foredeck, she stopped to glimpse Brazil. There it was. Naught but a flea on the ocean’s back, yet the passengers pointed and “oohed” and “ahhed” as if it were Shangri-la itself. All but two of them—Angeline, who stood off by herself, and Mr. Graves, who leaned on the capstan looking as morose as if a relative had died. Eliza was just about to join Angeline when she saw James slip beside the girl and offer her a smile.
Good. If anyone could cheer her up, it would be the doctor. Gripping the railing, Eliza allowed the stiff breeze to wash over her, wishing it would wash away her troubles as well. Above, the sun flung glitter over the earth, turning the sea into silvery ribbons and the distant land into shimmering emeralds.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Blake’s voice sent her heart leaping and plunging at the same time.
She drew a deep breath and gave him a sly glance. “Do be careful, Colonel, fraternizing with the enemy will not look good on your record.”
A slight grin tugged at his lips. “I fear my record is already tarnished beyond repair.”
“I doubt that. I would guess you served with distinction.”
“It depends which side you were on.” His melancholy tone defied the humor of his words.
A gust of wind brought his scent to her nose. All spice and male. Unable to resist, she drew in a deep breath, trying to implant the memory of it on her senses. “And no, I do not find the land beautiful, since I am forbidden to set foot upon it.”
“You have no one to blame but yourself, Mrs. Watts.” The lines on his forehead deepened.
Tired of his blatant hostility, Eliza faced him, planting a hand at her waist. “Have you come to torture me, Blake, or is there a reason you suffer my presence?”
A shimmer of amusement crossed his gray eyes before he frowned. “I came to tell you that you are not to disembark in Rio de Janeiro. I will lead the colonists ashore to a hotel the emperor has prepared for us where I will sign the appropriate paperwork and inquire about a loan for the land. Then, if all goes well, we will return to the ship, and Barclay will sail us to our new home before you leave for the States.”
“And what if it doesn’t go well? What if the emperor won’t lend you the money for land? Then what?”
“Then we take a vote on whether to stay and work for the money or head home.” Blake said. “Either way, you will return to the States. Is that clear?”
The ship slid down the trough of a wave, and Eliza felt her heart sink with it. She knew he hated her. But she had hoped that hatred had softened a bit. “Never fear, I will not tarnish your paradise with one touch of my traitorous toe.”
“Good.” He clipped out and stiffened his jaw.
Eliza turned her back to him, not wanting him to see the moisture clouding her eyes. A dark blotch appeared in her blurry vision. Blinking, she focused on a strange mass that rose from the land lining the horizon. At first only a dot, it grew larger and larger as it heade
d their way. Blake saw it too. Lengthening his stance, he gripped the railing and stared at the anomaly. Several of the crew and passengers joined him, some pointing, some questioning, others heading below.
“What is it?” Eliza asked.
Blake didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced at the captain and his officers on the quarterdeck, who seemed equally puzzled. Captain Barclay pressed a telescope to his eye. “Birds!” he shouted. “Birds!”
Eliza spun back around to see that the cloud had separated into distinct dots—flying dots. Birds, yes. She could make them out now. They looked like seagulls. Thousands of them. Sailors stared wide-eyed. Some crossed themselves.
“Grab your muskets and pistols!” the captain bellowed.
Muskets and pistols? Eliza wondered what all the fuss was about. They were just birds after all …
But then the flock rushed the ship like an army at battle. The beating of their wings thundered overhead. Thwump thwump thwump. Alarm rippled through her. Her breath stuck in her throat. Sunlight fled as the birds landed on yards and stays and railings, squawking and cawing as if scolding the ship for daring to come so close to land.
Sailors scrambled down from aloft and darted across the deck in such a frenzy one would think they were being attacked by pirates. Others came above, pistols in hand.
Blake pulled a man aside. “What’s going on?”
“Spirits of departed sailors come for revenge.” The sailor’s wide eyes skittered to and fro.
“Rubbish,” Blake snapped, but the man tore from his grasp and jumped down an open hatch.
“They’ll sink us, they will,” Max yelled, his face redder than usual. “They’re jealous of our life and will try to take it from us.”
The remaining passengers fled below. Eliza should join them, but her feet appeared to be melded to the deck. Still more birds came. Their squawking grew louder, the flap of their wings more chaotic. Eliza covered her ears against the thunderous sound.
“Fire at will!” Captain Barclay shouted.
A huge bird landed on the railing beside her, spreading its wings and emitting a heinous screech from a triangular beak nearly as large as its body. Shrieking, Eliza jumped back with a start and bumped into Blake.
His arms encircled her. Two birds dove for them. She cringed as Blake pulled her to the deck and hunched his body atop hers.
She didn’t have time to consider his protective actions. The air crackled with the pop pop pop of musket fire. Pop pop pop! Shrieks spiraled across the sky, followed by thuds and splashes as birds fell to deck and water.
Blake’s arms tightened around Eliza. The rough stubble on his chin scratched her cheek. His breath filled the space between them. His tight muscles encased her in a protective cocoon, spinning her heart and mind into a jumble of confusion and ecstasy. Despite the fear, despite the birds, she never wanted to leave.
Then he stiffened. He gripped her shoulders and groaned. Eliza turned to peer at him. His eyes were clamped shut, his lips moving. His chest rose and fell like storm swells. He squeezed her arms. “No! No! No! To the ground, men. Drop to the ground!” he shouted, his expression twisting. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tightened his hold on Eliza.
“It’s all right, Blake. You’re on a ship. Not in battle.”
Yet the incessant cracking of pistols and thump of dead birds defied her statement. One of the feral beasts landed right beside them. A single vacant eye stared up at Eliza.
Releasing her, Blake began to thrash. “Retreat! Retreat!” Eliza threw her arms around him and held on tight. It was the only thing she could think to do. “Shhh, shhh. Wake up, Blake. It’s over now. The war is over.”
His eyes popped open. Horror sprang from their depths. “They’re dead. They are all dead!” He palmed his forehead and growled in agony. Eliza clutched his arms, trying to get him to look at her. But he fell to the deck in a heap.
Angeline stood at the stern railing. The eye of a full moon stared at her from just above the horizon, watching her, assessing her with a detached curiosity born to those beings that existed beyond the vain, hollow condition of man. Or woman. Satisfying its curiosity, or perhaps just growing bored in the attempt, it continued to rise upon its nightly throne, flinging silvery lace on the ebony sea and over the wake bubbling off the back of the ship.
Wind whipped over the railing, flapping her collar and sending loose strands of hair flailing about her head. She shivered and hugged herself, ignoring the single tear that broke free from her eyes.
Memories she could not escape seeped into her blurred vision. Male faces, young and old, their eyes filled with desire. Drunken laughter, salacious grunts and groans, hands groping, touching places no one should. Pain, shame, waking to the smell of stale alcohol and bad breath.
Wanting to die.
Then do it. End the pain.
The whisper floated on the wind, swirling around her. Wiping her face, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was there. No one save the quartermaster at the wheel, the night watchman on the foredeck, and Mr. Graves shrouded in a cloud of gloom and cigar smoke at the larboard railing. She faced the sea.
She was alone. So alone.
“Oh Papa, why did you have to die? You were all I had in the world.” More tears fell, cooled by a wind that pushed them across her cheeks to dampen her hair. “Why did you have to leave me with Uncle John?”
But what good did it do to think of the past? It was over. Finished. She couldn’t change it any more than she could change what she had done.
Or what she had become.
The only question that remained was could she live with the shame—with the pain—anymore? A question that had repeatedly driven her from her hammock in the middle of the night. A question that must now be answered once and for all, lest the uncertainty of it slowly eat away at her until there was nothing left of her soul.
It was only a matter of time before Mr. Dodd told someone about her. And the illusion of her virtue would disappear, along with all her newfound friends. Then the looks would begin—the looks of scorn from the women and lust from the men. And the innuendos would start, the winks and suggestive glances, the nighttime visits. And if they ever discovered the rest of her tale, they’d lock her up below. Or cast her from the colony like they’d done to Eliza.
All hope drained from her and washed away with the foamy wake trailing behind the ship.
She’d been a fool to think she could run away from her past. That she could leave it behind in the States. Like a ball and chain fettered to her ankle, she had dragged it on board with her. She would never be free.
Unless …
Yes, end it all. It’s the only way to find peace.
Glistening onyx waves beckoned her from another world. A watery world where all was tranquil. Where the voices would not taunt her. Where no one would point accusing fingers her way. Where no one would lock her behind bars. Peace. Freedom.
Come … come to me and be free!
A cool mist moistened her skin and sent goose bumps skittering up her arms. She balanced herself over the heaving deck and gazed over the sea. Dark clouds had swallowed up the gleam of the moon and the shimmer of waves, making everything dull and lifeless.
Slipping off her shoes, she sat on the railing and eased her legs over the side. Twenty feet below, froth seethed off the back of the ship and disappeared into the dark waters. Just like she would do. She trembled. It was better this way.
Do it!
Her pain would end. No one need know.
“God, forgive me.” She drew one last breath and slipped off the bulwark.
CHAPTER 26
Aline of defeated troops trudged across Blake’s brain. He raised an arm to rub his temples, but his head felt as heavy as a cannon, and he dropped to the bed again, mission thwarted. The creak of wood and gush of water reminded him he was on a ship. The feel of the lumpy cot beneath him told him he must be in the sick bay.
The troops in his head fired another round of humiliat
ion into his memory. Ah yes, he’d had one of his episodes. And once again in front of Eliza and God knew who else. No doubt the entire crew. He moaned, more from shame than pain. Pain he could deal with.
Soft fingers slipped through his. Like threads of silk against burlap, they eased over his rough skin, bringing him more comfort than he cared to admit.
Eliza.
He peeked at her through slits. Waves of maple-colored hair tumbled over her shoulders and down the front of her gown. She squeezed his hand and cradled it between her own; then lifting it to her lips, she placed a gentle kiss on his fingers.
Blake swallowed at her tender display.
Releasing a heavy sigh, she gazed at him, her golden eyes filled with concern, even fear.
Fear. The birds! The shots. Had she been hurt?
He snapped his eyes open. She jerked back, releasing his hand.
“The birds. Are you injured?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They are gone. Those that weren’t killed, the sailors chased away.” She dropped a rag into a basin. “It’s nearly midnight. You slept a long while.”
Blake’s body relaxed as his gaze took in the room. At least they were alone. No one else was here to witness his weakness. No one but the one person he least wanted to see him in this feeble condition.
“Who else saw?”
“Only one of the sailors.” Her voice was tender, reassuring. “He helped bring you below after you blacked out.”
Blast it! Renewed pounding assailed his head, and Blake squeezed the bridge of his nose. “What kind of a leader can I be when I swoon like some limp-hearted female?”
She quirked a brow.
“No offense meant, Eliza.”
She gave a tiny smile, no doubt at his use of her common name. A slip on his part. “You’re suffering from the war,” she said. “It will pass in time.”
Blake tried to rise but thought better of it when dizziness struck him. “My last battle was over a year ago. Have you seen other soldiers recover?”
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