He laughed. "Thirty days on the sea ain't no vacation, not with all the rough weather you'll probably be running into."
Marcus was a few feet away and Catherine looked to him, willing him to come over. She took another step away from the sailor, her back pressing into the railing. "I am well aware of the length of this trip."
"But have you heard of the storms? Thought you might want to know about them. Rough seas around the Cape. You won't be leaving your cabin much." His grizzled face became larger in her vision. "'Don't see how you'd want to with how seasick you'll be."
Catherine looked over at Marcus. He hadn't even noticed she was being spoken to by this strange man. Was it too late to change her mind? Thirty days was a long time. Perhaps she couldn't handle it. "Marcus?"
"There might still be time to disembark," the sailor said, then shuffled away.
Marcus finally returned. "Is everything all right, dear?"
"That man… he said…"
Marcus's face underwent a rapid transformation. "Did he offend you?"
"Not exactly." Placing a hand on his arm to reassure him, she continued, "He was just warning me about the trip. He told me that we'll see many storms."
"And so we shall."
Catherine realized she could get off the ship that very moment if the urge took her, even though her husband would likely be both disappointed and furious. Knowing that, she was able to say, "Of course. Don't mind me, Marcus. This is all very new to me."
"To me as well, darling. We'll get through this together."
Catherine hoped so; she really did.
* * *
Catherine woke up with a start, hitting the ground hard with her hip. "Marcus?"
"Catherine, where are you?"
The sound of thunder reverberated through the pitch darkness. She crawled towards his voice, her breathing shallow and difficult. "What's happening?"
"We must have hit a storm," he replied, his voice louder than before.
She felt wetness on her knees, explaining the dripping sound echoing through the small room. "I don't want to drown in our cabin, Marcus."
"I won't let that happen." She felt his warm hand. She grabbed onto his arm and he pulled her towards him. He held her in his arms for a few silent moments before saying, "Let's discover what's happening."
"Do you think that's wise?" She wondered where her dressing gown was, and if she'd be able to find it quick enough. If they were forced to abandon ship, she'd catch her death of a cold wearing only her chemise.
"I'm scared too, Catherine. But it's better than waiting down here, oblivious to everything."
She struggled to her feet with his help, her hip sore from her tumble out of bed. She felt around the end of the thin pallet they slept on and found her dressing gown. She grabbed it and wrapped it tightly around her body. The ship lurched violently, throwing her back into her husband's arms.
He helped her regain her balance. "I don't want you to get hurt. Are you sure you can handle the rocking?"
Catherine didn't realize she'd ever claimed to be able to. "I don't know."
"We'll be all right," he said, but there was a note of fear in his voice.
The thunder was louder now and the staccato dripping seemed to have increased as well. She followed the vague form of her husband towards the cabin's door. Each step was a concentrated, frightening effort. "That sailor warned me."
"Catherine, stop worrying. Don't you see?" he asked, opening the narrow door. "This is a test of our mettle."
"I thought the decision to go to South Africa was enough."
"Many men dream of it, but few make it," he said and he seemed genuine.
Her thinly shoed feet slipped on the hallway floor. "I'm not a man, Marcus."
"Stop worrying!"
She almost released his arm and turned back, but she didn't want to be alone. Maybe Marcus was right. Was the Almighty testing her courage?
"Hello?" A voice spoke above the darkness.
"Did you hear that, Marcus?" she whispered excitedly.
"No, Catherine, I have cotton in my ears." Marcus called back, "Is anybody there?"
They heard the shuffle of footsteps. Hanging back against the slick wall, they watched the shadow come around the bend of the hallway.
A heavyset man with a pudgy, reassuring face appeared, and Catherine released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The dark corridors could play tricks on one's mind.
"Hello there," the stranger said. "I'm David Abraham."
"Hello, Mr. Abraham. My name is Marcus Watson and this is my wife."
"Catherine Watson," she added.
"Am I glad to see you!" David said to Marcus. "Do you think it's time to abandon ship?"
Marcus's body tensed, not taking the joke lightly. "I should hope not, Mr. Abraham."
David's face changed. "The stairs to the deck are this way," he said, pointing. "I think we'll get a better idea of the situation from a higher vantage point."
Marcus nodded, then was silent.
"Perhaps your wife should stay below?" David suggested.
Her husband looked back at her with much apprehension. She knew that he was terrified of being separated from her.
"Actually, I'd rather not be left alone," Catherine decided to say. "What if we have to disembark?"
"I think we'd do better on a sinking ship than on those sad-looking lifeboats." David walked towards the deck, assuming they'd follow.
They did, moving past many closed doors until they found a set of metal stairs. She held on to the railing as hard as she could while they climbed, terrified of a sudden tilt of the ship.
Marcus leaned close. "Who is this character?"
"He's not so bad," she whispered back.
Marcus shook his head.
Then the ship was hit with another brutal wave and Catherine pitched to one side. The two men held their ground without a problem, but she hit the floor. Marcus picked her up.
David pushed open the door to the deck. The wind blew it back into his face.
Marcus let go of Catherine to help David open the door. From behind, she watched the wind and rain beat against their faces. David was squinting against the onslaught, his hands unavailable to shield his face because they were holding the door.
"Catherine, take a look around, would you?" Marcus commanded.
She took a hesitant step towards the open door. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, do it."
Her eyes were wet and her forehead beaded with sweat when she pushed past the two men. Gripping the other side of the door, she prayed that the men didn't lose their grip, sending the door slamming into her small frame. Her gaze crossed over the upper deck. She saw many men bustling about, pulling against the masts and adjusting the rigging. Catherine didn't understand what they were doing and whether or not it was helping. All she knew was they were amidst an elemental fight and Mother Nature most certainly was winning.
"What do you want me to look for?" she asked, screaming above the din.
"The captain!" Marcus yelled back.
"Or get someone's attention and ask him if there's any way we can help," said David.
"What?" she cried through the wind, wondering if there was any point to it. From watching the men work, she got the idea that the best thing they could do was wait. As difficult as it was to put their life in the sailors' hands, Catherine thought it would be best to wait down below. She turned her head to look at her husband. "I'm not sure that would be-"
"Just do it!"
Catherine bit her tongue, profanity threatening to spill from her lips. She tried to catch the gaze of one of the sailors. "Sir?"
Just as she caught the sailor's attention, the ship pitched and a curtain of water crested above the vessel like a waterfall. It splashed against the deck and Catherine's fingers slipped. She lost her grip on the doorframe.
Then she was falling. Sliding. Catherine's attention wanted to drift as she fell through darkness, her mind like a floating entity s
eparate from her body. But somehow, she found the strength to focus and forced her eyes open. The deck flew by rapidly and before her was only one man, what looked like a rope, and a long stretch of railing. Beyond the railing was darkness.
Stretching out her arms, she prepared to make a grab for the rope. Or anything else she could reach. A second later, something scratched her hand and she latched on to it, only to experience a consuming pain in her palm. Fire. But she held on and she felt herself moving slower than before. Unless it was only her imagination. Perhaps she was floating.
Then she felt hands beneath her arms and she came to a jerky stop. "I've got you!"
It was David. Catherine made it only onto her knees. David had a thick rope wrapped around his upper arm. Terrified, she looked at her new surroundings. The entire ship was at a slant, water gushing down the deck and back into the sea. Was this the end?
"You gave us quite the fright there," David said.
Catherine was reluctant to stand, not wanting to be thrown again. This time she'd probably go headfirst over the side.
He must have seen her fear because he said, "I know you don't want to move from where you are now, but trust me. You don't want to stay up here. Won't you feel better when we're all cozy downstairs?"
The way he phrased it, she didn't think her husband would. Catherine managed to stand up, allowing David to guide her quickly back to the door they came out. Another wave hit when they were almost at the door, but Marcus stretched to yank her inside before she stumbled.
"That was a stupid thing to do, Catherine!" he bit out, slamming the door shut behind them and narrowly missing one of David's fingers. Her husband's dark black hair was wet and dripping into his eyes. "You really could have ruined everything."
"Then you should be happy that my obvious suicide attempt failed," she replied caustically, moving past him down the dark corridor. Her knees were weak and unsteady. She almost wished that David were still supporting her with his life-giving arms. But they'd already become too familiar, even though one couldn't blame them upon the circumstances.
He growled in response to her sarcastic remark. "You knew that you had no sort of sea legs. You shouldn't have leaned out so far!"
She ignored Marcus and turned towards David. "Thank you for saving my life."
"I'm glad I could," he said, looking at her husband.
Marcus didn't catch on. "Yes, thank God for that! You were almost history."
It was a terrifying thought. Even more terrifying, though, was his lack of help or reaction. David saved her while her husband watched from a safe distance. This was not the kind of partner she thought she was going to South Africa with.
She was doing it again. Doubting her decision to go there. She needed to stop. There was no turning back. They had to make a success of the trip or it would all be for naught.
Catherine would succeed, with Marcus's help or without.
They huddled there in the narrow corridor that opened onto the deck for another two hours. It didn't seem prudent to be in the bowels of the ship, when at any moment, tragedy could strike. They would have a better chance up top.
David told them about his experiences so far in Kimberly. This would be his third return trip to the "big hole," as he called it. He was primarily a dealer, making profit by getting the best deal for the diamonds his associates found in their plots. It sounded like a complicated game of false promises and exaggerated claims. He seemed to be successful at it, though, and Catherine found him to be a font of information.
It certainly helped pass the time until the storm had quieted and the ship was plodding along calmly again, confidently upright.
When Catherine and Marcus finally returned to their cabin, whatever ill feelings she'd felt towards him were forgotten and they huddled in each other's arms until dawn.
* * *
They anchored in the water off the coast of Cape Town.
They prepared to row to shore in small, wooden boats, five at a time. But Catherine didn't notice the wait, gazing over the ship's railing at her first glimpse of South Africa.
A light fog hung over the mountainous region and magnificent Table Bay. David told her they called the flat-topped mountain looming ahead Tabletop Mountain and the ones besides it, the Twelve Apostles. It was absolutely beautiful. Catherine's spirits were considerably lightened and she laughed when David continued to say that they called the frothy white clouds above the mountain the tablecloth. Warm air tickled her cheeks as she gazed over the railing at the clear, blue sea.
"Now, Mr. Watson," the captain was saying, "you'll need to be back in Cape Town in four months, if things don't work out the way you'd planned."
Catherine turned away from the railing. "And you'll return another four months after that?"
He shook his head. "There's usually a six month lull between ships during the winter. It's either four months, or you'll be stuck here for ten."
Cringing at the thought, Catherine calculated the time they should spend in Kimberly before deciding if they should throw in the hat. Only two months when one considered it was a month's journey both to and from the diamond fields.
Moments later, they were boarding the small boats. Over her shoulder, Catherine looked at the large ship they'd just disembarked. It was now or never. They had to make a success of their trip.
They alighted in Cape Town and David became their guide in every sense. He told them where to go, what to do, and what to buy. In retrospect, they were lucky to have run into him, considering they hadn't done enough research themselves. Catherine had tried in earnest to get some information, but she'd had few resources. Thank goodness fate had given them David Abraham.
Marcus, however, wasn't so sure about their luck. Standing out of hearing distance from their new companion, he said, "I think he's just a little too nice."
Close to laughter, Catherine glanced at David across the millenary and wagon seller. "How can you fault a man for being kind?"
"Easy," he replied, adjusting the large hat David had insisted he buy. "Men rarely do things that don't benefit them. But I can't think of what he'd want from us. We don't have anything to offer."
"I should think that would absolve him from unwarranted accusations."
David returned to their side then, with a few more items checked off his long list of supplies. "How are your preparations going?"
"Not as well as yours," Catherine replied.
"Hmm… if you are having some problems, I could make a suggestion."
They both watched him silently, waiting for his advice.
David said, "Instead of the three of us buying two wagons, we need only buy one."
"Do you mean we should share?" Catherine asked, immediately warming to the idea.
"I don't see why we shouldn't. It would be cost-effective," he said. Grinning, he continued, "It might even be fun."
Marcus didn't reply and Catherine wanted to speak for the both of them and accept David's offer. But her husband deserved her respect and his feelings needed to be considered.
David was still waiting for their decision.
"Mr. Abraham, do you think you could give us a moment to discuss this?"
"In private, you mean?" At her nod, he said, "I'll go to the stable at the end of this road, where we should be able to obtain a wagon. We can meet there when you decide." He walked away.
"I don't know, Catherine. I distrust him."
Feeling uncomfortable discussing it where anyone could overhear, she stepped back into the shadows. "He hasn't done anything to give you that impression. What makes you so untrusting?"
His features were darker when shadowed by his hat. "Instinct."
"If he comes with us, he'll be able to continue helping us. I think it's the perfect solution. What do we know of traveling across Africa?"
Eyes downcast, he didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he said, "Yes, I suppose the benefits outweigh the need to be cautious."
Catherine found her husband's timidit
y endearing. She hugged him. "Shall we go, then?"
"I'll tell him," Marcus said, abruptly turning to the door. "See if there's anything else we need from here."
"Marcus!" she cried as he ran out. She furtively peeked at the other people in the store, mostly men, mostly miners. What was he thinking leaving her like that? Picking up her long, navy skirt, Catherine ran after her husband.
A rough-looking man held open the door for her. "After you, my pretty."
Catherine shivered and hurried through the narrow opening.
The menacing stranger fell in step beside her. "You're not alone in Cape Town, are you?" he asked.
"No, of course not. I'm with my husband."
"Then where is he, darling?"
Catherine frantically searched the crowd for Marcus, not seeing any familiar faces in the sea of people. "Oh, I see him… just over there!" she said, picking up her pace, fear weakening her limbs.
Then she felt a thick hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, I don't think you have a husband at all."
"I most certainly do," she replied, twisting to escape his grasp. "And I don't think he would look kindly on your offense."
"No husband, no offense." He grabbed her harder then and turned her to face him. He breathed stank air on her face. "I'd pay good money for an hour with you."
Catherine screamed and tried to kick the burly man in the shin.
He effectively dodged her attack, a sly smile on his face.
Her scream had won the attention of a few similarly dressed men and she looked at them hopefully as they approached.
Instead of being her saviors, however, one of them said, "What do you have there, Jack?"
Catherine's moan of displeasure was followed by a final scream of "Help!" The group of men only tightened their circle. "Marcus!" And the circle shrank again.
She pulled the heavy Gladstone bag she carried in front of her body. "I'll pay you to go away," she stated, getting a good grip on the metal frame. She was about to smack one of the thugs over the head with it when a man burst through the crowd, growling, "Get away from her!"
The Queen of Diamonds Page 3