As the wind rose to a hiss, and the Guinevere tilted hard to the left, Colin struggled to stay upright. Stinging raindrops began to fall from the heavens.
The helmsman, gripping the ship’s wheel, shouted down to the captain then motioned to the water.
Colin glanced in the direction the helmsman had pointed, but could see only sea spray and churning waves.
“Go below,” the captain said to Colin.
“Tell me how I can help.” Colin didn’t have much experience with ships, but since the Guinevere had set sail, he’d learned to tie knots, the basics of reading charts, and had fixed a window in the captain’s cabin. “I realize you and your crew have sailed in storms before—”
“This is no ordinary storm.”
The captain’s words echoed Colin’s own sense of dread. He’d experienced some strong thunderstorms in his lifetime, watched one recently from the leaded windows of the manor house he knew he was going to have to abandon. Yet, he’d never seen clouds as ominous as the ones overhead.
“Go below,” the captain said again. “Stay with your wife.”
Colin swiped away rainwater running down his face. “If you need my help—”
“I will call—”
The ship lurched to the left again. Men yelled over the hissing wind, while the soles of Colin’s leather boots slipped on the deck and he careened into a post, pain jarring through his shoulder.
He steadied himself, to see the captain staggering toward the helmsman.
A wave crashed over the side of the vessel. Cold water sprayed over Colin, soaking his white linen shirt, and he gasped before grabbing hold of ropes nearby and making his way to the door and the cramped stairway that led to the cabins below.
As the ship groaned like a rusted gate, he stumbled down the hallway to his and Evelyn’s room at the far end. Beyond the closed doors he passed, he heard frightened moans, worried voices, and crashes of objects hitting the floor. He’d met the Bells and Harrisons and most of the other passengers, and they were clearly terrified. There were cats on board too; Sherwoods, the captain had called them, a breed that had mask-like markings around their eyes. Two felines were huddled by his and Evelyn’s cabin.
Colin thought to knock on the doors and quickly check on the people inside—the captain and crew needed to focus on the ship, not the passengers—but when he heard a cry from the direction of his cabin, he hurried to see to Evelyn first.
He knocked twice then opened the door. The heat and stuffiness of the dark room hit him, along with a sour smell. Evelyn was clinging to the edge of the bunk, doubled over, her left arm wrapped around her belly. As the ship swayed and the door slammed inward against the cabin wall, she looked up. Tears streamed down her ashen face and onto her gown that even before the storm had badly needed washing.
“Colin—”
She threw up. As he stumbled into the room, following the cats that had darted inside, he saw more vomit on the floorboards. A pang of sympathy ran through him, because she’d already suffered for weeks from severe morning sickness. From the day they’d set sail, she’d been seasick. Being on the storm-ravaged boat must be utter hell for her.
Breathing hard, Evelyn dragged the back of her hand over her mouth. “I…can’t stop….”
“It’s all right.” He managed to shut the door; the cats were now under the bolted-down chest of drawers, where they were welcome to stay. He lurched over to the bunk and on the way, snatched up their spare, clean chamber pot that had been sliding across the floor.
Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, tears welled along her bottom lashes. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Come now.” He handed her the chamber pot, sat beside her, and put his arm around her waist. As he gripped the bunk to try and maintain his balance, he said, “The captain and crew—”
“They can’t outwit nature.” Her brown eyes blazed as she gestured to her rounded belly. “No one can.”
He swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t brought their innocent, unborn babe into the discussion. Neither of them had expected her to get with child so soon after they’d married. It had happened so quickly, she must have conceived on their wedding night. But, a child—any child—was a miracle.
Colin very much looked forward to being a father. He’d vowed to be a far better parent than his own sire had been. Perhaps, if the child were a boy, he’d also be interested in inventing things. Surely Evelyn was excited to be a parent, despite their current predicament.
He stroked Evelyn’s hair that was a rich brown color, like polished oak. She’d pinned it up earlier, but now most of her tresses tumbled to her lower back. “I spoke with the captain moments ago,” Colin said. “We must trust his experience with storms—”
The ship rocked, and she groaned.
“—and you must trust me,” he said.
She glared.
“Trust that I will protect and provide for you, as a responsible husband should.” He sincerely meant those words. When Colin had asked about safekeeping important documents on the journey, the captain had told him that the Guinevere’s former owner had been a smuggler; there was a secret cavity in the cabin Colin had booked. Colin had brought all of his sketches, protected by layers of canvas and stored inside a watertight wooden tube. After finding the secret spot concealed by crown molding, he’d hidden the tube in it.
Once they reached Barbados, he’d work hard to support Evelyn and not only the child they’d soon have, but any other offspring.
Moaning, she bent over the chamber pot.
He held her hair back from her face until she’d finished vomiting. Then he pulled the linen pillowcase from her pillow and handed it to her to wipe her mouth. He would have offered her water to rinse away the taste of bile, but the pitcher had fallen off the iron-bound trunk they’d used as a table and had shattered.
“I wish we’d never left England.” Her words ended on a sob.
“Evelyn, we’ve talked about this.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet.”
Colin gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t going to. But—”
She averted her gaze. Her spine stiffened, and misgiving rippled through him. She was withholding something from him. Something important.
He gently squeezed with the arm around her waist. “What is it?” When she didn’t answer, his misgiving deepened. “Are you hurt? Were you injured while you were alone?”
“No,” she bit out.
He fought a welling of panic. “The babe. Is it all right?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s fine.” Tears dripped onto her bodice.
With an eerie creak, the ship listed to the right. She clutched the sloshing chamber pot with white-knuckled hands as he steadied them both.
The vessel finally leveled. The cabin, though, seemed to be growing smaller, closing in on Colin. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck to blend with the seawater soaking his hair and shirt.
“I was going to wait to tell you,” she said.
Bloody hell. He struggled to keep his voice steady. “Tell me what?”
She drew a sharp breath. “It’s…it’s about—”
A muffled thud.
The ship juddered.
As he and Evelyn were thrown several yards across the room, shouts and screams sounded down the hallway. The chamber pot flew from her hands and broke, its contents spreading over the floor.
“What’s happened?” Evelyn cried, pushing up on one elbow.
“I don’t know.” She’d landed on her belly. His heart hammering, Colin struggled over to her. “How are you? Is the babe—?”
“We’re all right,” Evelyn said.
A muffled crack; the sound of splitting wood. Another thud that jolted the deck above their heads.
More urgent cries.
“I must go,” Colin said.
“No.” Wild-eyed, Evelyn caught his hand. “Stay with me. Please.”
>
“I must do my part.”
Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You’ll abandon me? Our child?”
“No, I’m going to try and save you and everyone else on the ship. I promise, I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Chapter Two
Dear God.
The mainmast had snapped.
Braced in the doorway opening onto the deck, Colin watched in horror as the top half of the broken post, shattered but not severed, swung to and fro. The sail’s tattered canvas whipped in the wind. The frayed ropes writhed like snakes.
Such damage would be hazardous to deal with on a calm, sunny day. With the wind howling and the rain being blasted sideways, getting lashed by one of the ropes would be deadly.
The mainmast, though, was clearly less urgent than another peril. Crewmen were looking over the side of the boat and yelling back at the captain.
Colin had passed several male passengers emerging from their cabins as he’d hurried to the stairs. He heard the men on the steps behind him, so he eased out onto the deck. The force of the wind and the rain made it hard to breathe, but he put his head down and grabbed onto whatever he could to make his way to the captain.
Lightning ripped apart the clouds overhead. Barrels, broken free from their ropes, rolled across the planks covered by streaming water. A dead crewman lay by the rail; the scruffy seafarer who had shared stories of his wild youth with Colin on several occasions. When the ship pitched and rocked, forcing Colin to tighten his grip on the tethered tender beside him, the corpse jostled then was lifted and washed away by a wave.
Seeing Colin, the captain yelled to him. The words, though, were indistinguishable.
“What did he say?” a passenger shouted from behind Colin.
“Don’t know. Must get closer,” Colin called back.
Thunder growled overhead, and another wave crashed onto the deck. With an ear-splitting crack, part of the nearest railing snapped. Floorboards splintered. Bits of wood and broken planks were carried off by the deluge racing toward the opposite side of the Guinevere.
Drenched, Colin spat out water and raked his sopping hair back from his face.
Lightning sizzled again.
A crewman, who’d just emerged from the doorway to the lower decks, gestured frantically to the captain. “…taking on water!” he screamed.
“What?” Colin bellowed.
Glancing at Colin, the crewman spread his arms wide. “…hole…hull.”
They must have hit a reef.
“…going to sink,” the man shouted.
As icy fear whipped through Colin, the captain met his gaze. His jaw clenched, the older man pointed to the tenders.
The ship suddenly tilted. The captain, knocked off his feet, fell to the deck. A barrel slammed into his chest. He cried out in agony.
“No!” Colin choked.
Crew members scrambled to reach their leader, but another wave rushed in. Caught in the fast-moving water, the captain fought to keep his head up as he was swept away.
“What do we do now?” another passenger called from behind Colin.
Fear became a brutal knot in Colin’s chest. The captain was gone, perhaps drowned, and the ship was sinking. Their chances of surviving the storm were slim.
Evelyn and their baby might die.
Never. He’d promised to protect her; he wouldn’t break his promise.
Some of the crew had obviously decided to abandon the Guinevere, because they’d begun untying the longboat farther down the deck. Squinting against the pounding rain, Colin looked back at the other men. “We’ll take boats, too.”
“Madness!” another passenger yelled. “We’ll never survive the waves.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Colin shouted back, rainwater streaming into his mouth. He gestured to the gray-haired gentleman nearest the door. “Get the women and children. Go!”
The wide-eyed passenger, clearly close to panic, disappeared down the stairs.
Colin motioned to several other men. “Help me.” They worked together to try and untie the nearest boat. Another passenger handed Colin a knife, and he sawed at a rope.
He thought of his sketches in the cabin. He mustn’t forget them. Once the women and children were in the tenders, he’d run down and retrieve the tube before getting into a boat himself.
His fingernails blue, his hands shaking, Colin continued to cut the rope. It wasn’t easy, when the Guinevere dipped, rocked, and they kept getting knocked off their feet.
Finally, the rope began to fray.
“Colin!” His head snapped up at Evelyn’s voice.
He straightened to see her in the doorway. One of the young Bell daughters, crying and hugging a cloth doll, stood close behind her.
He handed the knife to the man beside him then struggled across the deck to Evelyn.
“I’m so frightened,” she sobbed.
“Hold onto me,” he said close to her ear. “I’ll help you—”
The boat pitched violently.
Thrown sideways, Evelyn shrieked.
Colin’s left arm instinctively went around her, barely keeping her from falling face down on the deck. With his right, he caught the screaming girl.
As he staggered, trying not to fall himself, a huge wave crashed over the rail. Barrels, ropes, and sections of plank were sucked into the turgid water. The wave swirled toward Colin and the other passengers, who were shouting in alarm.
No, Colin silently cried. Please. No!
Even as he shielded his wife with his body, he knew there was nothing he could do. The deluge slammed into them, and he lost his hold on Evelyn and the girl. As he was sucked backward into the wave, he collided with another passenger and some debris.
Pain seared through Colin’s skull.
Through the agony, he realized he’d been pulled underwater.
Coldness.
Distorted gurgling sounds.
Bits of wood bumped against him. His elbow hit something solid—the rail?—before the wave’s momentum sent him into the ocean.
Lightning flickered, illuminating the water’s surface above him. As though trapped in a nightmare, he saw the hulking silhouette of the Guinevere to his left. Debris slowly sank in the water.
His lungs burned for air, but the undertow yanked him down, down into the inky depths.
He was going to drown.
No!
Evelyn. Oh God, Evelyn.
He forced his cold, numb arms to move and his legs to kick. Slowly, he rose, twisting to avoid sinking objects. With the surface in sight, he kicked as hard as he could. His head broke through the churning water, and he gasped for breath, filling his lungs an instant before a wave swamped him.
Coughing out seawater, his eyes and nose streaming, he drew in several more breaths then swam to a broken plank and hung onto it. On the next wave, he saw a cat struggling to stay afloat. He kicked his way over to it and pulled it onto the end of his board, where it huddled, weary and soaked.
Catching his breath, he squeezed his eyes shut. When he used his sleeve to wipe away the water dripping down his face, blood stained the linen. But, he wouldn’t rest until he’d found Evelyn. He prayed she wasn’t hurt, and that their baby hadn’t come to harm. There had to be other passengers in the water who’d need help, too.
Thunder snarled, followed by bright streaks of lightning. More boards bobbed on the water a short distance away.
“Help,” a woman cried, her voice distorted by the wind. “Please, someone help me.”
“Evelyn?” he shouted.
“Help!” the woman called again, and he headed toward the sound.
He found her, coughing and spluttering. She wasn’t his wife, but Mrs. Harrison. When their gazes met, an exhausted sob broke from her.
“I’ve got you,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist. Her shoulders slumped in relief.
A broken plank bumped against her, and she reached for i
t, but he grabbed hold of a larger section of boards and pulled it closer. “Hold onto this with all your might.”
“Thank you. You’re bleeding—”
“I’ll be all right. Have you seen anyone else in the water?”
Mrs. Harrison shook her head.
“I must find my wife.”
The woman sobbed. “Please don’t let me go.”
He had to.
“I’ll come back,” he said, “once I’ve found Evelyn. Climb up onto the board. That way you can save your strength.”
He coaxed Mrs. Harrison up onto the makeshift raft. As the wind shrieked over the angry water, she shivered. “Hold on,” he shouted.
A loud thud sounded behind Colin. He glanced over his shoulder, but the biting wind blurred his vision.
A hard object slammed into his head.
Pain.
His eyelids fluttered.
You must stay awake. Find Evelyn….
Blackness.
Jordan handled most of the folks interested in the cats while Luna sold the food and drinks, just as they did at the café. Jordan wowed people with her uncanny ability to match prospective clients with the best kitty for them. Of course, Luna knew it was because Jordan could talk to the animals and get their feedback.
A Founders’ Day re-enactor—a redheaded guy dressed in pirate garb—stopped a few feet from the booth and slipped on mirrored sunglasses, which totally blew his pirate look.
“Cool shades,” Luna said to him.
Frowning at her, he said, “What?”
She pointed to his glasses. “I don’t think they had sunglasses in the seventeenth century.”
He squared his shoulders, glaring at her. “Why is that your business?”
Whoa. Luna held up her hands in surrender. “Forget I mentioned it.”
Thankfully, the man hurried away. She contemplated calling the sheriff since the guy’s behavior had been a little weird, but she was probably overreacting.
Before she could think more about it, a middle-aged couple approached the booth and oohed and aahed over a Siamese cat. “Is she spayed?” the man asked Jordan.
A Witch in Time Page 2