A glint drew her attention to a row of swords lining the larboard bulkhead like trophies, glimmering in the lantern light: a French rapier, a Spanish broadsword, a saber, and an English long sword—all no doubt seized from the hands of conquered victims she could only hope were still among the living.
Despite a sudden chill that overtook her, her palms began to sweat.
He ambled toward his desk, swerved around, and leaned back on it, his riotous black hair flinging about his shoulders. Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocked a brow in her direction as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.
Abigail forced a disapproving glance his way. “I suppose you’ve had many women in this cabin, Captain.” She hoped to disarm his superior demeanor, but instead he laughed—heartily and shamelessly.
“That I have, Miss Sheldon. That I have. Does it distress ye?”
“Only if I am to be another of your victims.” She straightened her back and pursed her lips.
“Victims? Upon me life, all came willingly and left happier than when they arrived, if I do say so.” He stomped his thick leather boot over the deck, and his lips curved in a taunting grin.
Deciding it best to leave before the pirate assumed she had also come willingly, Abigail stood and made a move toward the door, but Captain Poole dashed toward it, blocking her way. “Me apologies, miss. I meant no disrespect.” The gold earring in his ear sparkled in the lantern light as if to affirm the validity of his statement—or perhaps to warn her to take flight while she could.
“What is it you wish, Captain?” She raised her chin.
He searched her eyes as if he could see straight into her soul. She fidgeted but did not lower her gaze. The scent of rum wafted over her, stinging her nose.
“A brave one, ye are. I admire that.” He backed away and gestured toward the chair. “If you please.”
“I’ll stand, thank you.” Abigail gripped her Bible closer to her chest.
Captain Poole huffed and gazed out the windows. “’Tis an odd darkness that overcomes us, eh? Thunder, but no lightning. Clouds but no rain or wind.”
Abigail nodded and glanced out the stern windows. The same dark shroud that she’d seen while up on deck still hovered over the ship.
“I’ve seen other things—even more odd.” He swung around, and the arrogant facade had faded. He scratched the dark stubble on his chin as if pondering what to say.
“Odd?” Abigail prompted him to continue.
“Can I tell ye a tale?” He sat back on his desk.
“Of course.”
“Nigh on a year ago, me crew and I came across a Spanish merchant ship hauling pearls from Porto Bello. We boarded her with ease.” He waved a hand through the air, fluttering the lace at the cuff of his sleeve. “Relieved her of her goods, and set her adrift without benefit o’ her sails or rudder.” He chuckled as if remembering the jollity of the event, but then his gleeful expression faded to a frown. “We rescued an Englishman imprisoned in her hold. A preacher. Said he was the grandson of the famous pirate Captain Edmund Merrick.” Captain Poole shook his head. “There was something ’bout him.”
Abigail brushed the hair from her forehead. Her heart settled to a normal beat. “What do you mean?”
The captain gripped the edge of his desk. “There was a peace, yet a power about him that set me nerves to spinnin’.” He gazed up at her. “Much like what I see in yer eyes and Mr. Mason’s.”
Abigail’s heart sped again, but this time from pure joy.
“We encountered a wicked storm like none I e’er saw. Fierce winds and angry waves that would have sunk us to the depths for sure, save...” He released a sigh.
“Save what, Captain?”
“When we thought all was lost, this preacher Merrick comes up on deck as calm as if he was walkin’ down Bond Street. He speaks to the storm as if it were alive and commands it to cease in the name of his God—this Jesus.”
Abigail took a step toward him, excitement twirling within her. “And?”
The captain snapped his fingers. “The storm died off, just like he told it to. The waves settled, the winds died, and the clouds sped away quicker than a trollop from a penniless vagrant.” His eyes grew big as he remembered it, and Abigail thought she saw him tremble.
Jumping from the desk, he turned his back on her and stormed to the window. “What do ye make o’ that?”
Abigail said a silent prayer for the right words to say. “I think you already know.”
He grunted.
“’Tis what we discussed on the island.” A renewed strength that could only come from above emboldened her. “God exists. He is the God of the Bible, and He is all powerful, all knowing, and all loving.”
As if confirming her words, the dark clouds dissipated, revealing a sky that sparkled like diamonds, and the chill Abigail had felt earlier fled her as well. Raising the Bible to her lips, she placed a kiss upon it. She didn’t know what had just occurred, but she knew God had preformed a miraculous feat.
***
“Nathaniel, wake up.” A rough hand shook him, and Nathaniel opened one weary eye. Gavin’s cheerful face filled his vision.
“What do you want?” Nathaniel asked, groggy with sleep.
“Sink me, ’tis near midday, and you’re still asleep on the deck.”
Nathaniel struggled to sit, every muscle in his back and neck screaming in rebellion. He rubbed his eyes and surveyed the ship bustling with activity as the pirates scampered across deck tending to their various tasks. Shielding his eyes, he glanced above. White sails, gorged with wind, snapped at every yard.
“Did Hope toss you out of the cabin?” Gavin chuckled.
Nathaniel tried to shake the fog from his mind. “Nay, I was up late and didn’t wish to disturb her.” Truth be told, he’d waited half the night for Abigail to finish conversing with Captain Poole. Unable to sleep without ensuring her safety, he had loitered outside the captain’s cabin for hours. Abigail had finally emerged on the pirate’s arm. Nathaniel slunk into the shadows and watched as the captain escorted her to her cabin as if they were nobility returning from a concert at Dillon’s Inn in Charles Towne.
“Not disturb her?” Gavin cackled. “So you spend a restless night on the hard deck?”
Nathaniel suppressed a laugh, for it would have been a far more restless night’s sleep in a cabin with Hope so near. Besides, the captain had been too occupied last night to notice Nathaniel’s absence from his “wife’s” bed. So he had curled up beside the foredeck, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rose. But he’d slept half the day away.
Assisting Nathaniel to his feet, Gavin gazed across the azure sea. “We should arrive in Kingstown in two days. It will be good to be in a civilized port again.”
“Kingstown is anything but civilized, I’m told.” Nathaniel stretched.
“As long as it boasts a soft bed, a hearty meal, strong drink, and plenty of women, it could be in the middle of a desert for all I care.”
Nathaniel chuckled and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Your definition of civilization leaves much to be desired.”
“Speaking of women, where, pray tell, is your wife?”
Nathaniel cringed, but still his heart leapt at the title bestowed upon Hope. Ignoring both reactions, he scanned the deck. “I have no idea.”
“Good morning, Nathaniel.” Abigail approached with a swish of her green skirts and a beaming smile upon her face.
“Good morning.”
“Spent some time with the captain, did you?” Gavin asked, his tone sarcastic.
“That I did. We had a rousing discussion.”
“What could you two possibly have in common to discuss?”
Abigail pressed the folds of her gown and gave him a placating smile. “As I have told you, he wished to discuss the things of God.”
Gavin snorted, then directed a curious gaze toward the captain.
Tall, brawny, and fully armed, Poole appeared to be exactly what he claimed t
o be—a ruthless pirate. Not a man given to religion.
“I shall leave you to discuss these matters with Nathaniel.” Gavin stomped away.
Abigail giggled. “You look a sight, Nathaniel.”
“How gracious of you.” He bowed. “I fear I haven’t been sleeping well since we boarded this ship.”
A flash of blue caught his eye as Hope emerged from the companionway, hand in hand with Elise.
Abigail followed his gaze. “Yes, I see.”
He ignored her taunting grin. “What did the captain want?”
Clutching her skirts, she sauntered to the railing. “He speaks of a miracle he saw aboard his ship. It seems to have both frightened and intrigued him.” She sighed. “He asked many questions about our Lord, and I answered him the best I could.”
“I’m sure you did well.” Nathaniel eased beside her, allowing the sun to warm his face. “An odd turn of events. Do you suppose it was the cause of the black clouds yesterday, the oppression we both felt?”
“Perhaps, but Captain Poole thus far wishes only to satisfy his curiosity. Nay, I think something else occurred last night.” She glanced at Hope again.
“Miss Hope?” Nathaniel blinked.
“You should speak with her.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis better I keep my distance.”
Yet after Abigail went below to rest, Nathaniel could do anything but keep his distance from the enchanting woman. With Gavin engaged in a game of cards and the rest of the crew napping, drinking, or tending the sails, Nathaniel had nothing to do but saunter about the deck. And every time he looked up, he found himself nearer to Hope. Finally, he could hear her conversing with Miss Elise.
Hope embraced the girl, and Elise’s little arms wrapped around Hope’s neck.
“Then I will go to heaven to be with Mother?”
“Yes, my dear.” Hope kissed her cheek, and Nathaniel nearly leapt at her declaration of belief. “And your mother isn’t frightened or sad there. Heaven is a beautiful place with no sorrow and no fear. A place where only love and joy and hope exist.”
“Like your name!” Elise smiled.
Hope nodded and brushed the girl’s hair from her face. “Only you must love God with all your heart and all your strength for all your days.”
Nathaniel’s heart leapt into his throat.
“What of Father? He told me there is no heaven.” The little girl’s lips drew into a pout.
Nathaniel glanced at Mr. Hendrick standing across the deck, staring out onto the sea as if in a daze.
“Your father is sad and angry right now,” Hope answered. “We must pray for him.”
Shock froze Nathaniel. He gasped for a breath that seemed to escape him. Pray? Could it be true? Could Miss Hope have given her life to God?
“Elise, come here.” Mr. Hendrick bellowed from across the deck.
The little girl turned wide eyes to Hope. “Must I go?”
“He is your father. Be good and love him.” Hope rose. “And remember to pray for him. I won’t be far away.”
Elise started off, then turned around. “I wish you could be my new mother, Miss Hope.” She wrapped her arms around Hope in a fierce embrace, and Nathaniel forced back the moisture that threatened to fill his eyes.
Hope eased a finger over the girl’s cheek. “I do, too, precious one.” Her voice cracked.
Elise dragged her feet across the deck to where her father received her and drew her close beside him, but not before sending a disdainful glance Hope’s way.
Hope turned to face the sea, and Nathaniel slipped beneath the foredeck ladder, watching her, not wanting her to know he had eavesdropped on her conversation. Was it possible a woman like Hope could change? Yesterday she had not believed in God, or at least in a loving God, and today she spoke of Him as if she knew Him.
“ For with God, nothing shall be impossible.”
Nathaniel’s heart swelled, and heat stormed through him. If Hope had given her life to God, perhaps with His strength she could indeed change—she could become a virtuous lady, moral and good. The kind of lady he longed to share his life with. He must speak to her, find out what happened, confirm what every inch of his heart yearned to be true.
He took a step toward her, but Gavin sped past him and took Hope’s elbow. “Miss Hope, would you care for a turn about the deck?”
Startled, she turned, then slid her hand through his proffered arm. “Why, thank you, Mr. Keese.” Only then did she notice Nathaniel. She offered a smile of resignation and headed off with Gavin, who winked at Nathaniel over his shoulder.
Clenching his fists, Nathaniel resolved to speak with Hope tonight, for he could no longer deny his feelings. He must tell her he loved her.
CHAPTER 31
Later that day, Hope finished praying, raised her head, and opened her eyes to the most glorious sight: violet, crimson, peach, and saffron ribbons glittered across the horizon as the last traces of the sun dipped below the dark blue line of the sea. She thanked God for the beauty of His creation—something she had never appreciated before. Truth be told, since she’d given her life over to the Lord, everything seemed more beautiful, more filled with life. She gripped the railing and braced her feet against the foredeck as the ship rose and plunged over a swell. She felt alive and free for the first time. No matter what happened, no matter where life took her, she knew she had a Father in heaven who loved her, who found her worthy, and who would never leave her.
Remorse nipped at the edges of her joy like the wind that now clipped over her curls, trying to loosen them from her pins. So many wasted years spent searching for love to fill the void deep within her—a void she now realized only the love of God could fill. She shook her head. The stupid choices she’d made, the pain she had caused. And the loss. Of her reputation, her purity ... of Nathaniel.
She loved him. She would always love him. But her poor choices had erected a sturdy wall between them that even the strongest love could not breach. She deserved his rejection and much worse. But the ache of loss remained.
A warm evening breeze swirled around her, teasing her nose with the scent of the sea, with the sweet fragrance of the coming evening, and with life, and she inhaled a deep breath. When she returned to Charles Towne, despite the financial difficulties she would face, despite the impossibility of restoring her reputation with the citizens of the burgeoning port city, she intended to open an orphanage. In her recent conversations with God, He had made His will plain, further bolstering both her confidence and her faith. At last she could offer lost and unwanted children a safe home, a home where they would be loved and would learn about God’s love. Then they wouldn’t have to make the same mistakes she had and suffer for their bad choices.
In addition, she must beg her sister Grace’s forgiveness for snubbing all of Grace’s efforts to tell her about God. Though perhaps she had gone about it the wrong way, Grace’s heart had been concerned only with Hope’s happiness and eternal destination. Hope smiled at the possibility she and Grace could now become close as sisters should be.
A sail snapped overhead as if sealing her deal with God, and the ship bucked over a wave, anointing her with a refreshing spray. She smiled and gripped the railing as the last bright traces of the day sank beneath the sea, leaving a faint glow on the horizon. But despite the encroaching shadows, the day had not disappeared. It was only hidden for a time, for the darkness could never hide the sun’s bright light for long. It would rise again, forcing back the gloom as it announced a new day.
Digging beneath the sleeve of her gown, Hope pulled out the chipped shell she had found on the island. Holding it up, she smiled at the way it glistened in the fading sunlight. She turned it over, searching for the broken part she had seen before. But it was not there. Perfect in form, symmetrical and beautiful, the shell appeared to have been plucked from the ocean, fresh, clean—pristine.
Had she picked up the wrong shell? Confusion twisted through her, followed by a surge of certainty. No
, she had not. Humbled and awed at the love of God, Hope bowed her head and gave Him thanks.
Wiping tears of joy from her face, she turned around and scanned the ship. Two pirates lit lanterns hanging upon the mainmast and foredeck railing. The rest gathered in huddles, drinking and boasting and playing cards. Better she got below before their revelry got underway and they forgot she was a guest of Captain Poole. She crept down the foredeck ladder and tiptoed across the deck, keeping her eyes straight ahead and not acknowledging the lewd remarks tossed her way. She had not seen Nathaniel since earlier in the day and had no idea where he was. That he avoided her was obvious. That his disdain caused her great pain was something she resolved to endure.
Making her way down the companionway and then the dimly lit hallway, she saw a thin strip of light shining beneath her cabin door. Had she left a lantern lit? Horrified, she pushed open the door and rushed inside.
Nathaniel stood beside a washbowl, water dripping down his chest glimmering in the lantern light.
Hope averted her eyes. “Forgive me.” She turned to leave.
“No, please stay.” His voice held a pleading tone that halted her steps.
Leaving the door open, Hope skirted an empty basket on the floor and inched toward her bed, keeping her eyes on the floor. She had seen his bare chest ofttimes on the island, but in this tiny cabin, it seemed inappropriate, and she didn’t like the way her heart leapt.
Grabbing a cloth, he rubbed at the moisture on his chest and closed the door with an ominous thud.
“You wish to speak to me?” She backed into the hard bulkhead.
He approached. His shadow blocked out the lantern light. Stopping before her, he released a heavy sigh, and his warm breath and woodsy scent flowed over her. He placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his.
Moist brown hair, pressed back from his face, eased down his neck and dangled in wet strands across his broad shoulders. His face filled with curiosity, concern, and ... she couldn’t be sure what she saw, for her head began to spin. Her pulse raced, and her breathing quickened.
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