The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  A web of rope and splintered wood covered the deck. What men had survived hunched together in groups, some cursing, some murmuring prayers. The mainmast and spars hung off the starboard side, suspended by a tangle of ropes that used to be the shrouds, halyards, sheets, and braces.

  Another wave rose off their starboard beam. Lightning flashed. Captain Conway clung to the quarterdeck railing, his face a deathly shade of gray.

  The surge struck, crashing over Nathaniel. Watery claws groped for him and tried to drag him overboard. He gripped his lifeline, ignoring the burning pain in his hands. The heavy mainmast tugged upon the brig, pitching it on its side and threatening to pull it into the ocean’s depths.

  The wave passed. Nathaniel scrambled to his feet. “Men, get your axes! Cut the mast adrift before it smashes through the hull!”

  Thunder roared. The brig lurched to larboard, then tumbled downward. Grabbing his knife, Nathaniel joined the half-dozen men chopping away at the ropes and halyards. If they didn’t cut the mast free in time, they would surely sink.

  ***

  Hope clutched the ropes Abigail had tied around her chest. The brig pitched and sent the cabin listing sideways. Though she braced her feet, the force swept them off the hard wood and tossed her body in the air. Her shoes fell off. Her throat went dry, and her heart felt like it would crash through her chest. Surely they would capsize and all drown beneath the convulsing waters. The rough twine bit into her fingers and pressed into the skin on her arms and chest. Pain shot through her. She slammed her eyes shut and prayed for deliverance—prayed for the first time in years. She didn’t want her legacy to be one of debauchery and wantonness.

  Give me a chance, God. Give me a chance to change.

  The brig leveled again, then began to teeter back and forth as if riding upon some mammoth’s back. Thunder boomed and pounded on the hull in a deafening roar.

  Mrs. Hendrick screamed—yet again—and Hope opened her eyes. Abigail’s thin form lay sprawled across her cot, and in the distance, the dark shapes of Mrs. Hendrick and Elise huddled on their bed.

  Hope wondered how Nathaniel fared. And Mr. Keese. Were they still on deck manning the brig, or had they gone below to ride out the storm? She couldn’t even think of the alternative—wouldn’t allow herself to think of it.

  Releasing the rope, she rubbed her eyes, aching from stress and lack of sleep. A loud crack echoed through the cabin. The crunch and snap of wood sent an icy quiver through Hope. Screams blared from above. Something massive struck the brig with a jarring crunch. The vessel lurched to starboard, then canted back and tumbled in the other direction. The ropes scraped over her skin. Hope knew enough about ships to realize they had just lost a mast—a death sentence for a ship in a storm. She glanced at Abigail, whose wide eyes met hers with a knowing look. Whenever the roaring of the storm had subsided, Hope had heard Abigail praying, pleading for God’s mercy and the eternal salvation of all on board.

  “Never fear, Miss Hope. We will survive.” Abigail smiled.

  “I am not so sure,” Hope yelled over the thunderous blast of another wave striking the brig. She clutched her ropes as the cabin jolted forward and back, sending her teeth clamping into the flesh of her lower lip.

  “God told me,” Abigail shouted with the confidence of an admiral of the line. She turned to Mrs. Hendrick. “We shall live through this, Mrs. Hendrick. Calm yourself.”

  Mrs. Hendrick let out a fearful wail.

  Slowly, the roar of the storm lessened as if the beast retreated beneath Abigail’s declaration. The bellowing thunder grew more distant. Waves ceased slamming into the hull, though the brig still swayed like a pendulum.

  Tearing apart the knots on her ropes, Hope shoved them aside and stood to peer out the window, ignoring Abigail’s warning. Through the streaks of water on the glass, she saw naught but darkness, save for an occasional foamy crest atop a distant swell.

  The cabin door crashed open. Hope swerved to see Nathaniel’s dark form, water streaming from his clothes. Relief eased through her taut nerves. She could not see his face or his expression, but she could feel his eyes upon her. “Untie yourselves and come on deck immediately,” he commanded in a voice cracking from strain. He dashed to Abigail to help her with her ropes. “See to Mrs. Hendrick,” he shouted to Hope, giving her no time to ponder the jealousy surging within her.

  “What’s happening? What are you doing?” Mrs. Hendrick cried. “Where is my husband? Don’t touch me.” She slapped Hope’s hand as Hope fought to loosen the knots of her rope.

  Though Hope would love nothing more than to untie Elise and leave her mother bound—and gagged—she continued to untangle the web of twine around them both.

  “Make haste. There isn’t much time.” Nathaniel’s commanding voice stung with a sense of urgency, hurrying her fingers. He assisted Abigail from the cot, then guided her toward the door. As soon as Hope had freed Mrs. Hendrick and Elise, he ushered them out as well. Grabbing Hope’s arm, he led her down the hall behind the others.

  Hope emerged from the companionway ladder to a blast of warm salty water that stung her eyes. She rubbed them and glanced across the deck. Above her, the clouds parted, forming a burgeoning circle of clear sky and allowing the light of a half-moon to blanket the vessel in an eerie glow. Severed timbers marked the spot where the wheel had stood. The mainmast was gone, broken off at the level of the bulwarks, its stump a cluster of bristling spikes. Where once the brig had been an ordered assembly of scrubbed and polished oak and brass, now it was naught but a dripping mass of splintered wood and a tangle of rope. Captain Conway sat on the quarterdeck, clinging to the railing, his face a mask of horror.

  Hope’s heart clamped. Without the mainmast, without steering, they were helpless against the next major swell.

  Over the starboard side, Mr. Keese and two sailors hoisted the only remaining cockboat into the agitated waters. The ship vaulted and Nathaniel clutched Hope’s arm. She glanced up at him. His dark hair matted to his head and dripped onto his sopping waistcoat. Water beaded in his lashes, but the look of concern he gave her sent her head whirling. “Are you harmed?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head. “What is happening? Was it a hurricane?”

  “It is a hurricane.” He scanned the brig, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “We are still in it. In the center.” The lines of his face tightened, and he swallowed hard. Hope had no idea what he had been through, but she knew by the intense look in his eyes and the stiffness of his shoulders that he believed he now carried the responsibility for every life on board.

  Mrs. Hendrick’s hysterical sobbing drew their attention to the railing, where Abigail tried to console her.

  Nathaniel faced Hope again and took her hand in his. Despite the moist chill on his rough, blistered skin, his firm grip comforted her. “We must get everyone into the boat.”

  The boat? She glanced across the endless expanse of swirling dark waters. “But where will we go?”

  “An island, there in the distance.” He gestured over his shoulder to where a gray mound rose from the sea. Land? It appeared to be naught but another menacing cloud bank sitting on the horizon.

  Hope trembled and bit her lip. “Leave the safety of the brig?”

  “It is not safe anymore.” He raised a commanding brow. “Will you trust me?”

  Hope gazed into his eyes and saw confidence and assurance within them.

  Releasing her hand, he cupped her chin and stroked his thumb over her cheek. “I need you to be strong and help the others get into the boat.”

  Warmth radiated within her belly, spreading out like a soothing hot tea, temporarily smothering her fears. He wants my help? How many times in the face of danger had she behaved as hysterically as Mrs. Hendrick? Surrounded by strong sisters, Hope had found it too easy to be the weak one, the needy one.

  But her sisters weren’t here.

  Squaring her shoulders, she drew a deep breath. No matter what terrors she faced, she longed to be strong
for Nathaniel. For the first time in her life, someone needed her—and not just anyone, but an honorable gentleman—and she determined not to disappoint him.

  She nodded, and he withdrew his hand, leaving her suddenly chilled.

  Boots thudded over the slick wood, and Mr. Hendrick emerged from the hatch. “Is the storm over?”

  Behind him, Mr. Russell lumbered onto the deck and slipped when his high-heeled leather shoes skidded across a puddle. Major Paine, who followed behind him, grabbed his arm before he fell.

  “Oh, William.” Mrs. Hendrick dashed to her husband, dragging Elise behind her. The brig pitched over a roller, and she tumbled into him.

  “Confound it, Eleanor, what is all the fuss?” He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, then released her and brushed his velvet coat.

  “What do you mean, ‘all the fuss’?” Her voice cracked. “You left us alone during the storm without a word. Poor Elise was frightened half to death, and we didn’t know whether you were dead or alive. Is that any way to treat...?”

  As Mrs. Hendrick poured her complaints onto her husband, Nathaniel sped toward the bulwarks and glanced down. “Steady now, men, steady.” He turned toward Mr. Keese. “Go below and gather some lanterns, steel and flint, and weapons, if you please.” With a nod, Mr. Keese disappeared down a hatch.

  Beyond Nathaniel, clouds as thick and black as giant bears rose on the horizon. White lightning spiked through them. Thunder growled. Hope drew a shaky breath and clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. The hurricane would soon return as Nathaniel had predicted. Bracing her bare feet on the moist deck, Hope made her way to where the Hendricks were still engaged in a quarrel. Nathaniel’s booming voice echoed behind her.

  “We can make it to the island, but we must leave immediately!”

  Wind blasted around Hope, stinging her nose with the sharp smell of rain and salt. A light mist began to fall, and she hugged herself against the chill.

  “Mr. Mason!” Captain Conway bellowed from the quarterdeck, where he seemed to have regained his senses and clambered to his feet. “What in the blazes are you doing? I ordered you to raise storm sails on the foremast.”

  Swerving around, Nathaniel glared up at the captain. “We must leave the ship at once, Captain. The rudder is disabled, the wheel is crushed, and the mainmast gone by the board.”

  “Are you mad? I will not leave my ship! The storm is over, as you can plainly see.” Conway waved his hand toward the sky.

  Halting, Hope glanced up to see that the patch of clear sky of only a moment ago was narrowing under the advancing circle of dark clouds. A gust of wind swirled her skirts around her legs as tiny drops of rain began to fall. Her palms grew moist.

  Nathaniel shook his wet hair from his face. “The storm is far from over. This is merely the center of it. We must leave at once before the winds pick up again.”

  “What do you take me for? A dull-witted landlubber?” The captain leaned over the railing and pointed his finger at Nathaniel. “Is this some ploy to take over my ship? I knew you were a mutineer when I first laid eyes on you. Kreggs, Hanson.” Captain Conway yelled at two sailors standing by the capstan. “Arrest this man at once and take him below.”

  Hope shuddered. Surely they wouldn’t lock up the only man who was doing anything to save them.

  The two men braced their bare feet over the rocking ship, looking like drowned lynx, but much to her relief, made no move to obey their captain.

  Nathaniel gestured for Major Paine and Mr. Russell to approach the railing, then shot a stern gaze at Captain Conway. “Captain, I do not want command of your brig. In fact, I am trying to leave it, and I advise you to do the same. When the storm recommences, it will be far worse than what we’ve thus encountered.” He glanced across the remaining crew. “We must all abandon ship.”

  “You will do no such thing!” the captain roared, his face a bloated gray in the dwindling moonlight. “No one leaves my brig.”

  The two sailors the captain had ordered to arrest Nathaniel came and stood by his side. “We’re wit’ ye, Mr. Mason.”

  Nathaniel smiled. “Mr. Kreggs, go below, if you please, and gather anyone who wants to join us.” With a nod, the sailor darted off as Mr. Keese leapt onto the deck from a hatch, a large bundle in his hand. He took his stand beside Nathaniel.

  Mrs. Hendrick’s sobbing brought Hope’s attention back to the task at hand. The woman clutched her husband’s arm as Elise stood shivering by her mother’s side. Hope longed to offer the little girl the comfort her mother neglected to give.

  “We should go with them, William,” Mrs. Hendrick whined. “Better to be on solid land than out here at sea.”

  Mr. Hendrick snorted. “Surely the captain knows far better than these”—he waved a hand in their direction—“these common sailors.”

  “But for Elise, for the baby.” Mrs. Hendrick placed a trembling hand on her belly.

  “Mr. Hendrick, please come with us,” Hope pleaded.

  “And why should I listen to the likes of you?” His mouth slanted sideways toward a strong jaw that would have made him handsome if he weren’t such a swaggering peacock.

  “Because Mr. Mason is telling the truth.”

  Thunder rumbled, and Hope glanced at the mushrooming black clouds swirling toward them. She gulped and tried to steady her rapid breathing and the pinpricks of fear traveling down her spine. Why was she helping these people who clearly hated her when all she wanted to do was make a mad dash toward the cockboat and reach the safety of land?

  She pressed a hand to her neck to ease her racing pulse. She did it for Nathaniel, she reminded herself.

  A wall of rain-laden wind slapped her with such force it turned her head to the side and stung her cheeks. Gulping for air, she braced her bare feet over the sodden wood as another wave lifted the brig.

  Hope reached down and lifted Elise in her arms. “Come with us, now, Mrs. Hendrick. For Elise’s sake. For your baby’s sake.” She held out her hand toward the blubbering woman.

  “Oh, very well.” Mr. Hendrick grabbed Elise from Hope’s arms and ushered his wife toward the railing. “Infernal woman. Now you shall cause me to lose valuable time and precious cargo.”

  Hope shook her head, wondering if the man harbored any affection for his family at all.

  Barreling down the quarterdeck ladder, the captain halted before Nathaniel and reached for his sword, but thankfully, the storm had stolen it from him, leaving an empty scabbard in its place. “I will not stand for this! Pure villainy, I say, pure villainy!” His hard, cruel eyes scoured the remainder of his crew. “The tiller can be repaired, and we have the foremast. You will not leave this ship!”

  Nathaniel rubbed his left side and cast a quick glance at the agitated black sky, then over the remaining crew. “We must depart now!” His deep growl rolled over the ship, competing with the distant thunder. He faced the captain. “Or we will all die.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Mr. Mason.” Captain Conway seethed. “No one leaves this ship without my permission.”

  “We are not your prisoners, Captain. The foremast is weakened. It will not last long when the storm returns. I beg you, sir. Leave the brig while you can.”

  Captain Conway’s pockmarked face seemed to collapse. He glared over the lifeless deck, his fiery eyes seeking an ally. His gaze landed on a skinny man with a pointed beard sitting on the foredeck ladder. “Nichols, I command you to arrest Mr. Mason at once!”

  Mr. Keese drew his pistol and pointed it at Conway. Nichols didn’t move.

  The captain laughed. “The powder’s wet.”

  “I reloaded and primed it.” Mr. Keese grinned.

  “Enough of this.” Nathaniel laid a hand on Mr. Keese’s arm and eased the gun down. “We are leaving, Captain, with or without your permission.” He spun on his heels. “And we will take anyone who wants to go with us.”

  A group of ten sailors huddled beneath the foredeck. Three more leaned over the
railing, watching the proceedings with interest. Was that all that remained of the crew? Hope cringed at the realization that most of them had been swept out to sea.

  The captain spit to the side. “Then begone with you all. You’ll not last long on that tiny speck of land.” Turning, he leapt up the quarterdeck ladder and took his spot where the wheel once stood.

  The brig rose and plunged over a wave, and Hope wobbled as she made her way to Mr. Russell, who had remained glued to the capstan ever since he’d emerged from below. Terror sparked in his wide eyes. “Come, Mr. Russell. Time to leave.” She placed her hand on his arm and guided him toward the bulwarks.

  Kreggs bounded up from the hatch. Another sailor followed him.

  Peering over the railing, Mr. Russell glanced at the tiny cockboat rocking in the foaming water and rubbed his thick hands together. Another swell slapped against the hull and lifted the brig. Mr. Russell’s jowls quivered and his face turned white. “I cannot leave the ship. All my cargo is aboard. It is worth a fortune. I cannot leave the ship.” His narrow eyes flitted about the deck like a nervous sparrow.

  Hope laid her hand on his arm. “Is your life not worth more than gold, Mr. Russell?”

  “If you stay here, you will lose both,” Nathaniel said as a crack of thunder split the air. “Now let’s be gone.” He cast a wary glance at the black swirling clouds. A blast of wind slammed into them, stealing Hope’s breath. She rubbed the sleeves of her wet gown.

  “Don’t listen to them, Mr. Russell. I will get you safely to Kingstown,” the captain bellowed from the quarterdeck. “There, I intend to charge you, Mr. Mason, with the theft of my cockboat.”

  “You may come back and retrieve it any time you wish, Captain.” I am only borrowing it. “Now, everyone, let’s away! We haven’t much time.”

  “Who is with us?” Nathaniel bellowed, leveling his gaze over the remaining crew.