“You must have something, some form of nourishment. If you go on in this way, your body will become parched and will burn itself up. I am going to bring you broth and sea biscuits, and sit here until you take at least a little of them.”
“I will throw up,” she warned, “if I don’t throw whatever you bring at your head first!”
“All right, then,” he said, his tone laced with something suspiciously like laughter. “A glass of lemonade?”
“I couldn’t,” she said with a shudder.
“You can, if you sip it slowly.”
“Oh, very well,” she said with a sigh, “but if it makes me sick, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Rud sat on the edge of the bunk, staring down at her. “Julia,” he said slowly, “are you certain seasickness is your problem?”
“What do you mean?” She refused to look at him, watching through lowered eyelids as her fingers pleated the sheet.
“Are you certain you are not troubled by morning sickness as well?”
“What makes you ask that?” she asked, striving for a light tone.
“Little things, little changes in your body that I have begun to notice. You must have seen them too.”
“If I have, which I don’t admit,” she said quickly, “would it matter to you?”
He was so long in answering that her eyelids swept up, and she caught him off guard. A shadow lay in his eyes as he stared unseeingly at his hands, and there was a gray line about his mouth. “Matter?” he said. “That’s a strange way to put it.”
“Ours has been a strange marriage.”
The flick of a wry smile across his mouth signaled his agreement; still, he made no attempt to answer her question.
She turned away. “I was right then. A child was no part of your plans.”
“That isn’t true. It would be extremely stupid to overlook the possibility under the circumstances, don’t you think? A child is the natural consequence of the kind of activity which has been our chief amusement in these past weeks.”
“But, it would not make you happy to learn you are to be a father, all the same. Why?”
“I will undertake to tell you if you will answer me this, in all honesty. Are — would you be happy?”
She wanted to cry out, to rail at him for thinking that she had the least reason for happiness in the prospect. She was a woman far from her home, without friends or family, dependent on her husband for every bit of food and stitch of clothing. And, such a husband — a man who had taken advantage of her weakness to force her into a loveless marriage, and then used deceit to persuade her into his bed. Now, as the consequence of that act, she was probably going to have a child. Her illness was aggravated unbearably by motion of the ship, and all she could look forward to was months more of the same. Where in all that was there reason for happiness?
“You see?” Rud said when she did not reply. “It is harder than it seems. We have the habit of reserve, you and I. Just as in our more tender moments you never quite give all of yourself to me, I cannot open my mind to you. The reason in your case is fear, I think. My reasons may be different, but they are just as compelling. Don’t!” he said as she raised her hand to her eyes. “Don’t torture yourself with wondering and worrying. It will be time enough to tell you how I feel about a child, and about other things, when our babe is born.”
Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then left the cabin. He sent the lemonade to her by a steward, but it was far into the night before he returned. He woke her by stumbling about the cabin, trying to undress in the dark. His clumsiness was explained when he fell into the bunk beside her. He was thoroughly, soddenly, asleep the instant his head touched the pillow. His breath reeked of brandy fumes.
The sun was shining on the day that the David hove into view of the blue, conical mountain the seamen called Sugar Loaf. The weather was delightful, fresh and warm, just coasting into the tropical spring season of this southern hemisphere. The deep-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean faded into turquoise as they sailed into Guanabara Bay. The waves of the bay washed like liquid aquamarine onto the white beaches of the city known as Rio de Janeiro, “River of January.” It was there, within view of the city, that they saw the most beautiful sight of all, the sharp, clean lines of the Baltimore clipper Sea Jade, sitting at anchor.
They were not able to make a long stay in the Portuguese city. Napoleon, understandably, was anxious to transfer from the British-owned East Indiaman to the Sea Jade. For him, the pleasure of treading dry land was outweighed by the danger of recognition by some chance-met member of the French colony resident in the city. Many of these included his former officers and members of his court and cabinet. As much as he would have liked to see them, he was not yet ready to make public his miraculous resurrection from the living death of St. Helena. Though they had scanned the seas day after day since leaving Jamestown, there had been no sight of British warships in pursuit, the dreaded sign that the masquerade had been discovered. With Dame Fortune smiling on them in such a manner, it seemed best not to test her favor any more than necessary.
Julia felt certain Rud was just as anxious to go aboard the other vessel, taking his place on his own quarterdeck once more. Regardless, he stood by while she made her farewells to the other passengers, including the sardonically smiling Count de Balmain, and then accompanied her into Rio without protest.
In the sprawling South American town, they hired a small carriage, pulled by a ribbon-bedecked horse, to take them about. Julia, suddenly ravenous, insisted on stopping at a fruit stall and laying in a supply of the least perishable items to take onto the ship. From there, they went to a small café, where, oblivious of the staring patrons who were not used to the presence of ladies in such places, they feasted on the hot, spicy, highly seasoned fare Julia craved. It was delicious beyond imagining, so different from the bland food served up by the English chef aboard the David.
They visited a flower market and an ancient church, and strolled through one of the many small squares that made pockets here and there in the town. By the time they returned to the bay, the Sea Jade’s first mate, Jeremy Free, had seen to the moving of their baggage and even escorted the gentleman who was traveling with them aboard the Baltimore clipper. He had been placed in the cabin occupied on the journey to England by M’sieu Robeaud and Julia’s father. There was no occasion this time for the first mate to be displaced; Julia’s belongings had been put in the captain’s cabin. There was nothing left for her and the captain to do, but enjoy a bath in Rud’s own copper tub, prepared to just the right temperature by his steward and valet, and go to bed.
The passing of twenty-four hours found them far from land. With a spanking wind behind them, they were, in the words of the old salts, clipping the tops from the waves. There was little except ocean between them and England, allowing them to make time in spite of the fall of darkness. It was dinnertime, but how much food one was able to consume in the dining saloon under the circumstances was more a question of skill than appetite.
Julia sat laughing over their difficulties with Rud, the emperor, Jeremy Free, and Second Mate O’Toole when the door swung open. Expecting only the steward with another course from the galley, Julia did not look up until Rud, facing the door, pushed back his chair and got to his feet.
“De Gruys,” he said, his voice cold. “What in hell are you doing here?”
It was indeed Marcel de Gruys. In a coat of mustard yellow with brass buttons the size of saucers worn over gray-and-white pantaloons, he sauntered toward a vacant place at the table. “First, you sail from London without me,” he complained, “and now, you neglect to call me to dinner. What next will I suffer at your hands?”
“Hold it right there,” Rud ordered.
“Who is this man in the incredible coat?” Napoleon demanded. “From where does he come?”
“Your majesty! I did not recognize you,” de Gruys said mendaciously as he made the emperor a graceful leg from where he stood in the center of the ro
om.
“You have not made an answer to the questions of either Captain Thorpe or myself,” the emperor pointed out, his voice hard.
“Permit me to introduce myself — since no one else seems likely to perform that office. I am Marcel de Gruys, lately of New Orleans, a member of the expedition which set out so many months ago to effect your removal from your English prison. Ill health forced me to remain behind in London, where I would have languished waiting for news if M’sieu Free had not kindly authorized my passage aboard this ship to the rendezvous at Rio de Janeiro.”
“I’m sorry, Rud,” Jeremy Free said. “He said if I left him behind he would go directly to Lord Bathurst. I would have mentioned his presence on board earlier, but he has become such a fixture I’m afraid it slipped my mind.”
That Marcel could dare to be there in the room, smiling and smirking and pretending innocence, was beyond Julia’s comprehension or belief. Did he think that his disguise had not been penetrated on the night Rud was shot? Did he think that because no complaint had been lodged against him no one was aware of his perfidy?
“I understand, Mr. Free,” Rud was saying. “However, you will inform the helmsman that we will be putting back into Rio, and chart a new course accordingly.”
“Wait,” Marcel exclaimed as Jeremy got to his feet. “Are you certain that is wise? I am, as I hinted to M’sieu Free, something of a chatterbox. Will the emperor wish to have the news that he is at large bandied about so soon?”
Napoleon Bonaparte rose. “You have a price, I suppose, M’sieu de Gruys, for remaining silent?”
“But, naturally, your majesty! I will be as silent as death as long as I am allowed to remain with you to the end of your great adventure.”
The emperor directed a sharp look at De Gruys before turning to Rud. “What do you have to say of this man’s conduct? Why are you so determined to leave him behind?”
“He — it is a personal matter, your majesty,” Rud replied at length.
“Not a question of loyalty?”
“No, your majesty.”
“One sees that he is unscrupulous. The question one must ask is, does he pose a threat?”
“Yes, he does!” Julia said, her voice ringing loud in the room filled with males. She thought she saw a hint of censure in the emperor’s gray-blue eyes, but she rushed on, undaunted. “He is a criminal three times over, guilty of attempted rape, and on a separate occasion, of attempted kidnapping and attempted murder!”
Rud’s jaw tightened at this public exposure of Marcel’s criminal intentions so obviously directed toward his wife.
It was Napoleon who spoke at last. “All these crimes attempted only? He cannot be so formidable a villain, then.”
“He was unlucky, that is all. And yet, it shows how far he is willing to go.”
“Your majesty, I protest!” de Gruys said.
Napoleon ignored him, staring at Julia with a considering look in his eyes. “The best compromise, one that would save everyone much time and trouble, would be to hang him.”
“The most sensible thing I’ve heard all night,” O’Toole said in approval.
“Your majesty!” de Gruys said, his voice issuing from his throat as a croak.
“We cannot do that,” Julia said, her wide gaze fastened on the emperor’s impassive face.
“Why not? You contend this man is untrustworthy. The good captain does not want him aboard. We are all reluctant to lose the time it will take to return him to Rio, even if we could trust him to remain silent.”
“You can, your majesty! I would not speak a word. It was no more than an idle threat I spoke, made to assure me a place on the ship!” De Gruys looked from Julia to the emperor, his face greenish-white in the light of the overhead lantern.
Julia turned to Rud, a sense of chill moving over her. This could not be happening. It was impossible that a man’s life could depend on her next words. Rud seemed not to notice her appeal. His brow furrowed in concentration, he stared at Napoleon, as if searching for the motive for his extraordinary suggestion.
Julia swung back to the emperor. “To hang him for our own convenience would be barbaric. We cannot take the law into our own hands.”
“An interesting point. As ruler of France, I formulated laws. I crowned myself emperor, the final authority for hundreds of thousands of people. My words, my ideas, became the law. Since this power was self-appointed, can it have been wrested from me as was my throne and my country? Could it not be that I am still, here and now, the law?”
Julia’s amber eyes met his without evasion. “If you believe that, then I am willing to abide by your decision on the fate of this man.”
“Julia!” Marcel cried. “How can you be so bitter? I never meant to hurt you.” Seeing she had no attention to spare him, he turned to the emperor, dropping to one knee in supplication. “Your majesty — please—”
Napoleon glanced at him and then away. Lips curling with disdain, he said, “For such a one, we interrupt our dinner? Enough. Let him stay, as long as he keeps to himself. Since he has been taking his meals in his cabin to avoid us since last evening let him continue. I see no need for Madame Thorpe to be offended by the sight of him.”
Marcel did not wait for any further dismissal. Jumping to his feet, he made a jerky bow and quitted the room. Julia caught the look of virulent rage and burning humiliation he cast back over his shoulder just before the door closed behind him.
One fair day blended with the next as the ship pressed northeastward, skirting the coast of South America. The winds were favorable, the skies edged with cumulus clouds like high-piled cotton wool. The water sparkled in the sunlight, stretching ahead of them to the far horizon. It was hard not to entertain the notion that the ship could, and would, sail on and on without stopping over glittering seas stretching to infinity.
Such ideas were common to Julia in these days. The discomfort, which she had blamed on the ship’s motion, had not abated, despite the fine weather. As the second month passed without the appearance of her usual courses, she was forced to face the fact that, as Rud had suggested and she had feared, her problem was not seasickness. She was enceinte. She was indeed going to have a child.
Although there was a certain fascination in the idea of having a small baby to hold and to love, she was also filled with a vast depression of the spirit. She had never been a timid person, but still she was conscious always now, of a nameless unease and fell prey to the gloomiest of fancies. The tension aboard the ship, caused by the brooding presence of Marcel, affected her strongly. Rud, finding that his absence had encouraged slackness among the crew and a lessening of his standards in the maintenance of his ship, was busy utilizing the perfect days to remedy matters. Julia was left much to her own devices. It sometimes seemed, as she strolled the decks, that Marcel was everywhere, watching her with eyes which made her feel undressed, talking in spiteful asides to the one man on the ship willing to associate with him, the spindly-legged, jaundiced ship’s surgeon, Dr. Hastings.
Napoleon Bonaparte, when he was available, proved a more than adequate refuge from Marcel’s constant observation. That gentleman took care to stay out of the emperor’s way. Julia could not tell whether Napoleon realized the position she was in, but he often invited her to stroll the decks with him. As he walked beside her, with his hands clasped behind his back, their discussions ranged from theology to the theory of navigation, from philosophy to women’s dress. He was interested in all things and well informed about most. Excellent company, he had a droll wit when he troubled himself to exercise it, and a fund of anecdotes concerning the famous of Europe that kept Julia spellbound for hours. He seemed to have no great opinion of the intelligence of women in general, holding that the Turks, who banished females to the harem, had the correct approach to the sex, and yet, at no time was she aware of condescension toward her in the subject or wording of his discourse. On occasion, she was made to feel that the emperor found her attractive, but he was always most punctilious in
his attentions, whether they were in company or alone, whether Rud was in evidence on the quarterdeck or not.
One of the many things they had in common was the enjoyment of the ritual of the nightly bath. Rud’s steward was kept busy shifting the copper tub back and forth from one cabin to the other. Julia, in order to avoid too great a confusion in the galley with the heating of water while dinner was being prepared, arranged to make her own ablutions in the late afternoon. This had the extra advantage of allowing her to spend as long as she desired relaxing in the warm, scented water.
Julia was engaged in this luxurious pastime one afternoon when Rud stepped into the cabin.
“So, this is where you disappeared to; I might have known.”
“You might,” she answered, “if you had troubled yourself to notice what I have been doing lately.”
“My dear Julia, have I been neglecting you?” he asked.
The tone of his voice made her wary. She glanced at him, catching a familiar gleam in his sea-blue eyes.
As they neared the equator, the weather had turned hot and sultry. Rud wore no coat and had discarded his cravat and studs, and his linen shirt flapped open to the waist. Staying constantly on deck had deepened the bronze of his skin, making his teeth startlingly white by contrast. Through the open front of his shirt, she could see that his chest had also taken on a darker hue. It was not unexpected, considering that she had often seen his shirt decorating a pile of rope at midday.
“I would not say I was neglected precisely,” she answered at last.
The movement of the ship turned Julia’s bathtub into a small tidal ocean. The water washed back and forth, rising to her neck and then receding, leaving her breasts like gleaming high-peaked islands each time it retreated. The phenomenon seemed to fascinate Rud. He studied it intently as he unfastened his cuffs and stripped off his shirt.
“I rather thought the emperor was keeping you tolerably amused,” he said almost at random.
“Yes, tolerably,” she said without enthusiasm.
“Then, it is not a lack of conversation that is the cause of your complaint?”
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