“Neither of you are to walk about this ship alone, do you hear?” he cautioned.
It was the same warning she received at home. She knew the danger firsthand and did not quarrel. Staying in her room, away from the leers and stares, was just fine with her. Even the thought of a man touching her made her flesh crawl, and she welcomed the security of the tiny cabin. But keeping Sunny confined would be hard. Naturally curious and completely oblivious to certain dangers, her younger sister would be a target for the first sailor looking for a woman’s charms.
She shivered and edged closer to her brother. “You need not worry, we will stay together.”
“Good,” he said, making his way to his room. “I have to go below and see to my luggage now, and I want you both to stay put. Lock the door when I leave.”
“When do we sail?” Sunny asked.
Gabriel glanced at the pocket watch he pulled from his vest. “In two hours.”
“Why not just wait for the cabin boy to bring the bags to your room?” Raven suggested.
“I just want to make sure all is in order.” Gabriel pointed to the portal’s handle. “Remember, lock the door and stay in the room.”
****
Raven sat on the lower bunk, looking through Sunny’s sketch book, when the cabin boy called through the door they would sail in twenty minutes. Each drawing was exactly as it looked in real life. The one of her dressed as a traditional Apache woman, standing with a foot upon a rock, one hand on her hip and the other on a spear, did her proud. She could not help thinking how much she did look the part of an Indian princess and wished the green-eyed man she met in Silver City could see the drawing.
“Do you think Gabriel has come back from his luggage search?” Sunny asked, looking up from her task of placing toiletries beside the washbasin.
“There is only one way to find out.” Laying the sketch book aside she walked over to the door adjoining their cabin and rapped on it with a knuckle.
No response.
“Gabriel,” she called out. There was no answer. She frowned. “Should I try the knob?”
Sunny’s eyes widened. “I would not if I were you. He could be undressed. And the last time I barged in on his privacy he threatened me with a thrashing.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Father was there to stop him, but he is not here now.”
“Well, Gabriel dares not touch me.” She turned the knob and peered into the room.
It was empty.
Sunny stood beside her, wringing her hands. “Oh, poor Gabriel. I bet his belongings are lost.”
She pointed to the bunk. “I do not think so, look there, Sunny.”
“His bags are already here…then why…where is—”
“I think I know where he might be.” She narrowed her eyes. “I have no doubt our dear brother is at the place where the men drink the fire water. We passed one on our way to the ship.” She made her way to the corridor portal. “I am going for him.”
Sunny followed, reaching out a restraining hand. “Gabriel said to stay in the room, besides he knows when we are to sail.”
“If he is drunk, Sunny, he might not be able to make it back in time.”
Sunny folded her arms across her bosom. “This is very unwise.”
“I will tell you what is unwise—to leave our dear brother passed out somewhere. You know the stupor he is in after he drinks.”
Sunny bit her bottom lip. “But Gabriel said to stay here with the door locked.”
“What if a thief finds him passed out and robs him of the funds he carries, how will we pay for things on this journey?”
Sunny placed hands on hips. “Though you have a very good point, you are still being unwise.”
She threw her hands up exasperated. “Oh, stop acting like mother. I am going to find Gabriel, and that is that.”
“Please, wait here,” Sunny pleaded.
“You wait here and make sure you lock the door behind me. I am going below to find him, and when I do…” her voice trailed as she shook an angry fist in the air.
****
The cantina reeked of stale smoke and sweat, much like the saloon in Silver City. She scanned the room for her brother and shuddered when she spotted a man reaching out to fondle one of the scantly clad girls. Another man fell off a chair in a drunken faint, and she worried further what condition she would find Gabriel in. If he tasted too much of the drink, it would be difficult for her to manage getting him back to the ship by herself.
“Hey, you! Mestiza!” a man shouted from his seat at a table. He grabbed a handful of lace that trimmed the bottom of her skirt and tore it free. She was twirled into his lap. “You have too much on.” His sour breath wafted from his meaty lips.
She shoved him away and wiggled free, but he caught her by the hand and with a tug, ripped off her sleeve. She was horrified. Her blouse hung in shreds, exposing a shoulder. Scenes of agent Hall and Baxter swam in her mind. Her heart pounded, panic mounting.
“You will not touch me,” she shrieked, doubling her fist and slamming a crushing blow to the man’s nose.
Blood poured from his nostrils.
“Little whore,” he cursed, bringing both his hands up to his injured face.
She fled with a mixture of fear and rage, running blindly to the ship and stepping onto the plank. Breathless, she gripped the rail on deck and looked down at the crowd below. She was not going to leave this ship until it docked in England, with or without her brother.
She lingered on deck, calming her thoughts and cooling her rage while she watched the seamen pull up anchor. The large vessel lurched ahead, making its way out into the vast stretch of water looming at the forefront. Looking out to where the sea met the sky made her queasy.
Raven turned away from the rail and searched down the corridor for the causeway to her cabin. Back and forth she wandered, growing confused. Everything aboard looked strange to her. She could not find the living quarters or the cabin boy. And where were all the people? The ship’s horn bellowed, nearly deafening her. The floor swayed beneath her feet, and she lost her balance. Making her way back to the deck area, she fought to keep her nauseous stomach calm and her wobbly legs straight. There she spotted a tall man with a bushy beard. He was leaning on the rail, smoking a pipe; his fiery red hair blowing in the breeze.
“Please, sir,” she said, struggling to keep her feet beneath her. “Where would the passenger’s cabins be?”
He turned, his large blue eyes widening at her torn clothes. “Are you alright, lass?”
Her cheeks warmed. “I will be, once I can find my cabin.”
“There are none on this ship, lass. ’Tis a private owned vessel carryin’ cargo bound for Limerick.”
“Is Limerick in England, sir?”
“Nay, lass,” the man said. “Limerick is in Ireland.”
Chapter Three
“Wonunicun,” Raven whispered.
The man frowned. “Beggin’ your pardon, lass?”
“A mistake has been made,” she translated, biting her lower lip to keep from crying.
The man chuckled. “Well, if there has, lass, ’tis you who’ve made it.”
Her knees were as weak as a newborn colt’s. She held onto the rail, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I fear you are right, sir. Somehow I have gotten aboard the wrong ship.”
The red-haired man embraced her waist with a steady hand. “’Twill take a wee bit for you to get your sea legs.”
She shivered, the wind growing stronger and whipping strands of hair from her chignon.
He smiled down at her, his eyes softening. “I’m Terrance Murphy, the ship’s physician.” He took her arm. “Let’s go below to the galley, and while a hot bowl of soup warms your bones you can be explainin’ to me how ’tis you’ve come to be on the wrong ship.”
She did not trust herself to speak, fearing she would either cry or be sick all over the deck. Giving the doctor a slow nod, she allowed him to help her away from the rail and down the stairway. At th
e bottom, stood a long narrow room where a stocky built woman of middle age worked at a table cutting meat with a cleaver.
The woman raised her gaze to meet Raven’s. With a frown she put down the cleaver, wiped her hands on the apron tied about her chubby waist, and made her way to the foot of the stairs.
“Saints preserve us, Terry, what have you brought me here?”
“This misfortunate lass mistook this ship for one bound for England, Molly.”
“Mother of God,” she whispered. “And you’ve family aboard the other ship?”
She nodded, pushing aside the hair from her eyes. “A brother and a sister.” A burning lump lodged in her throat at the thought of how worried they must both be by now. Just a day ago she and Sunny pledged they would never be apart, and now she had no idea when she would see her sister again.
“Fill a bowl o’ potage for the lass, Molly, me dear. The poor child’s chilled to the bone,” Terrance said, offering her a chair.
Molly placed the soup on the table and with a kind smile, took a seat beside her. “You poor dear, you must be frightened out o’ your wits.”
She did not believe she could eat a thing in the state she was in, even though she had not eaten since the morning meal, but accepted the woman’s kindness as not to hurt her feelings. She spooned the soup into her mouth, the warmth of the broth slipped down her throat. It tasted good, filling her hungry belly.
Molly broke a piece of wheaten bread from a loaf sitting on the table and handed it to her. “How have you come to be on this ship instead o’ your own, lass?”
She took a deep breath and explained to Molly and Terrance the reason she left the England bound ship and the rude man at the pier’s cantina.
Molly threw a hand up in disgust. “Those rogues have no respect for women.”
Terrance took a seat opposite her. “Well, there’s not much we can be doin’ about the situation now, since we’re already afloat.” He flashed an encouraging smile and reached out to give her hand a pat. “But not to fear, lass. When we dock in Ireland, we’ll contact your family in England and send you safely home.”
Home is not England, but a tiny village in Arizona I fear I will never see again.
Molly frowned. “And what will we be tellin’ y’r lordship? She hasn’t the proper passage. He gets testy about such things, always makin’ sure all papers are in order.”
“I can cook and clean for my keep,” she offered.
“’Tis settled then,” Terrance said, glancing at Molly with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. “You’re always complainin’, Molly, me dear, the workload gets a wee bit much for you. Now you have an eager helper.” He stood and made his way to the stairs, turning to add. “When need be, I’ll settle all this with m’lord.”
Molly nodded in agreement and turned to her. “If you’ve finished your broth, child, I’ll be takin’ you to find some other clothes for you to be wearin’.” She reached out with a chubby hand and fingered the torn blouse. “You certainly can’t be expected to be runnin’ around like this throughout the voyage.”
She followed Molly to another room behind the galley.
Handing her a dress, the elder woman giggled. “Saints preserve us, I’ve fed you and now I’m clothin’ you, and I don’t even know your name.”
It was true; in all the excitement neither of them had asked her name. “Raven Amelia Eagle,” she supplied. “I am the daughter of Chief Proud Eagle of the Western Apache tribe.” She squared her shoulders and added with pride. “I am an Indian princess.”
****
Molly, skilled with a needle as well as with a cooking pot, made over a few of her own dresses for Raven to wear. They were cut to fit and quite comfortable. With her long black hair braided and hanging down her back, Raven went about her duties, learning the routine in just a week’s time and fitting in with the rest of the crew. They were all a kind bunch of people, doing their best to make her feel at home.
When the work day was done, she joined everyone around the long galley table where they sat laughing, eating, and sharing stories about their homeland. Hans, one of the cabin boys, had come from Sweden and sounded just like Reverend Ben when he spoke. The deck hands, Victor, Hugo, and Boris were brothers. They came from a place called Russia. But her stories gathered the most interest. The crew listened intently as she told them about her Indian chief father, white mother, and of the reservation’s sad state of affairs.
The only person yet for her to meet was the man who owned the ship. The one they all called the Lord of Limerick. She believed the man to be sick and aging, always needing to travel with a personal physician on board and his meals brought three times a day to his cabin. Her people taught the young to respect and revere the elderly. But what if the Lord of Limerick was a mean, stubborn, old goat who would have her thrown off the ship? In any case, she was perfectly content to have Terrance speak on her behalf and relieved the ship’s owner never ventured below deck. She hoped it remained that way till the end of the journey.
****
Raven lie now on her cot, cramps and their slicing pain having her down for the day. She could hear Molly and Terrance discussing the situation in the next room.
“She’s a blessin’ in disguise,” Molly confided. “A hard worker often doin’ more than her share o’ the chores.”
“I’m pleased to hear this, Molly.” Terrance answered.
“And what have you told y’r lordship?” Molly probed.
“Only that we acquired an accidental stowaway, and you put her to work for her passage.”
“And he wasn’t concerned as to what will be happenin’ to the lass once we dock in Ireland?”
Terrance’s tone softened. “Not to fret none, Molly, me dear. I assured m’lord I’d take full responsibility regardin’ the matter when we reached Limerick. And he was satisfied with that, so I saw no reason to concern him further.”
“Well, I’m a wee bit concerned for the lass’s health, Terry.”
“You’re concerned over everyone’s health, Molly. ’Tis your nature.” Terrance chuckled. “Maybe you should have been appointed the ship’s physician.”
“Now, quit teasin’ me here and listen to why I’m concerned.”
Terrance sighed. “Speak your fears, woman.”
“The lass hardly eats, has such a wee appetite, and what she does eat, doesn’t stay down long.”
“Sounds like a classic case of seasickness to me,” Terrance concluded. “Give her another week, and she’ll bear up.” Terrance laughed again. “I’ve seen heartier souls then her turn green around the gills.”
“Nay, ’tis somethin’ more,” Molly went on. “She’s tired all the time, has severe stomach cramps durin’ the night.” She lowered her voice. “I hear her groanin’ and fussin’ from me own bed, and I’m tellin’ you, Terry, the child’s ailin’.”
“Where’s the lass now?”
“I’ve sent her to her cot, gave her a cup o’ tea and a warm compress for her stomach,” Molly said.
“And so what would you be needin’ me for, Molly, me dear? ’Tis all I would have recommended.”
“I know, I’m probably fearin’ the worse for nothin’. But all the same, I’d feel better if you’d take a look at her.” Her voice sweetened. “’Twould take a load off me mind.”
“Now, don’t be gettin’ yourself all agitated, love. ’Tis probably somethin’ she ate.” Terrance sighed again. “Take me to the lass now. I’ll have a look at her and give her a powder to help her sleep.”
Raven heard them make their way to her cot, but she kept her eyes clenched tight, breathing in quick, shallow gasps as the pain cut through her middle like a sharp blade. Ice spread through her stomach, and she shivered, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
At the touch of a gentle hand upon her forehead, her eyes flew open, looking up into the face of Terrance Murphy. His eyes, almost opaque, searched her face, the tiny lines around his mouth creasing with concern.
“You’re burn
in’ with fever, lass,” he said, pulling the blanket down to her waist. “Show me where it hurts.”
She moved a trembling hand over her lower abdomen.
Terrance pulled the blanket down to her knees and lifted the nightgown.
“No,” she protested, curling her knees to her waist. “I am…I am not wearing anything beneath.”
“’Tis alright, lass,” Molly consoled. “Terrance is a doctor and is here to help. There is no need for you to be ashamed.”
She relaxed her legs and rolled onto her back so Terrance could examine her. She shuddered; turning her face aside as he probed with delicate fingers at the base of her stomach and between her thighs. Glad for the semidarkness hiding the flush in her cheeks.
Terrance recovered her and knelt down beside the cot. “Raven, lass, look at me.”
She turned, her face burning with fever… humiliation…the pain that wracked every part of her body. “What is wrong with me?”
The doctor’s voice was soft but alarming. “You’re miscarrin’ a babe, lass.”
A baby? I am having a baby? No, I am losing a baby! “I do not understand…it cannot be,” she sobbed.
Terrance turned to Molly. “I need clean cloths and a basin of warm water.”
She glanced at Molly’s frightened face.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were with child, lass?”
Her heart sickened with the remembrance of agent Hall touching her body, taking her virtue. “I did not know. I was taken against my will one night on the reservation by an agent that brought food to the village.”
Molly leaned over and squeezed her hand. “’Tis his sin, not yours, lass. And may he be damned for his actions.”
It seemed like an eternity before the pain subsided, the bleeding controlled. Deep within her heart she wrestled with a mixture of relief and sorrow. To want her rapist’s child was something she knew she could not bear, but still…what she had carried beneath her heart was a baby…innocent of its father’s actions and also a part of her. In some strange way she grieved the loss of the small life, her tears of mourning adding to her physical pain. If not for Terrance Murphy’s gentle, experienced hands continuing to care for her body, his calm, caring voice soothing her spirit, and the sleeping powders he administered, she would have never been able to drift away from the loss and loneliness. The pang of being parted from her family quieted, and she was soon cast into the blissful state of nothingness.
One Perfect Flower Page 4