“Given the circumstances, we must appeal to you for an even greater service. We must wait for rescue, as you have done, and it is our God-given duty to make the best of things. To survive, of course, and to maintain ourselves in an appropriate manner until help comes.”
Hope watched Alejandro so intently she did not fail to see the emotions flickering in his eyes, though his expression remained hard and unyielding. Did he mistrust the others in her party?
When he spoke, his words were flat, without inflection. “You believe you will be saved, even though I have been here for fourteen months without sighting a ship even once?”
Albert spoke, his voice sharp, startling Hope enough that she leaned away from him. “As it so happens, several members of our party have important enough connections that there will be an outcry if we are not found with speed.”
“Oh?” The castaway’s eyes flitted briefly from the doctor to Albert. “You are that important, that they will search every island until they find you? They will comb every reef in search of your boat’s wreckage? Even though there are hundreds of islands capable of supporting life, and thousands of rocky shoals suited to destroying boats and the men aboard them? What faith you have in your connections.” He shook his shaggy head, as though amused rather than put out.
Could rescue truly be that difficult? Hope turned her eyes to the trees, and the sea beyond them, stretching out in a vast blanket of blue and green. There were dozens of people who knew their party’s route when they had set out. Albert had a point, too; the doctor was a famous naturalist, the Carlburys’ family hosted a member of the House of Lords, and those things mattered. Someone would come looking, surely.
“We must have hope, Señor,” Doctor Morgan countered. “Hope—and faith—that we will come away from this experience as better men. In the meantime, we must behave ourselves in an appropriate manner, conducting ourselves as gentlemen.”
Alejandro met Hope’s eyes. “This is not an adventure sent to test your abilities.” Though the men present would think Alejandro addressed the doctor, Hope felt the rebuke keenly. Her heart gave a harrowing squeeze. He was angry. At her? But what had she done? The day before, the way he held her hand, looked at her—had she imagined their connection?
He turned his gaze back to the leader, folding his arms across his chest. “As to maintaining ‘an appropriate manner,’ as you say, I am not certain what you mean by these words.”
“Only that we should conduct ourselves as gentlemen, as I said.” The doctor rocked back on his heels, a crease wrinkling his brow. “The ladies’ sensibilities must be considered.”
If her position had granted her the right to speak up at that moment, Hope would have informed everyone she knew perfectly well the difference between Hyde Park and the island, and the behavior at the former most certainly would not prove useful at the latter. Surely the doctor did not expect her to walk about with a parasol and comment politely upon the weather.
She gritted her teeth and turned her attention back to Alejandro, who gazed briefly to her before going back to the doctor.
“And if rescue does not come, as you hope it will? If you are here as long as I have been, for fourteen months, for twenty, for a hundred?” Alejandro gestured to his chest, to the worn shirt he had donned. “My fine coat and neckcloth did not last long. I pulled them apart for other uses, such as bandages for the only other person to survive the wreck of my ship. After he died, I stripped him of his clothes.”
Her blood went cold, despite the perspiration she felt building at her lower back. Irene’s hand clutched at Hope’s wrist. Alejandro hadn’t told her this the day before.
“Sir,” Albert blurted, stepping in front of Hope and his sister. “There are women present.”
“And should these women not know of the hardships they may soon face?” Alejandro’s retort was cold and without sympathy. Not at all how he had spoken to Hope when they were alone. “Each item of clothing I had to use, as rope, as net, as twine, in order to survive. My shoes I lost before coming ashore.”
Hope curled her toes in the dirt and put her arm around Irene’s shoulders.
“My companion I buried, down on that same beach where you pulled yourselves ashore.” Alejandro took one step closer to them, his hands falling to his side, balling into fists. “For two weeks, I nursed him, treated his wounds, fed us both on what edible plants I found. Then he died in the night, far from home, and I alone present to weep for him. Weeks afterward, I wondered if I would do better to join him than to fight every day for a life of forced solitude.”
Doctor Morgan raised both his arms, as though that might placate the sudden indignant response of their host. “Señor, I am dreadfully sorry for all that you have been through. Truly, no man should be made to suffer as you have.”
Falling back a step, hands relaxing though he appeared as tense as before, Alejandro returned his attention to the doctor. “Yet here there are ten more of you, unready to live as I have lived, for as long as we are trapped here.”
Irene whimpered. “Oh, Grace. I don’t want to die here.”
Although Hope wanted to hush her friend, she forced herself to respond gently, squeezing Irene’s shoulders and answering with as much care as Grace might have used. “We must do as the doctor said. We mustn’t lose hope.” As she spoke the virtue after which she had been named, Hope tried to find it in her heart. That morning, walking to the beach, she’d told herself that all would be well, and that rescue would come. Hearing Alejandro speak of death, of a grim survival, altered her view of the situation most unpleasantly.
“You must prepare yourselves for the worst,” Alejandro continued when their party remained quiet except for Irene’s weeping. “There is nothing more important now. You must learn how to live on this island. The manners that served you well in a drawing room are worthless in this place.”
Albert shifted in the sand, his chin jutting out. “You speak as though you expect to have some authority over us.”
“Mr. Carlbury.” The doctor spoke the younger man’s name sharply, glaring at him. “Though I might understand something of the flora and fauna of the islands, I have no practical experience living among them. Have you?”
Albert’s jaw tightened, and he sank his gaze to the ground.
The doctor next turned to the three men that might be of the most help. “What of our sailors? Madden? Hitchens? Smith?”
The broadest of them, a man with large arms and dark skin lined with scars, answered for all three. “We might know some things. But not so much as this man. I grew up working with the cane until I ran to the sea. Hitchens worked the docks his whole life. Smith—he was with tobacco farmers.”
After a brief nod of acknowledgment, Doctor Morgan turned to the rest of the party. “Thorne? Gibson?” The gentlemen shook their heads. “As you see Mr. Carlbury, while we might collectively learn what is necessary to live in this place, it would take time. Some of us might die, or starve, or grow sick, or mad, in the interim.”
Irene’s fingernails dug deeper into Hope’s arms.
With an air of entreaty, the doctor turned again to the bearded and bedraggled man on the other side of the fire. “Señor Córdoba. Will you teach us what we need to know to live here?”
For a long moment, the man only stared at them, his gaze moving from one face to another. His eyes lingered for an extra second upon Albert, then fell to Hope’s. She forced herself to smile, to prove herself ready and willing to do what she must. Strangely, he frowned in return.
Perhaps she had imagined what had passed between them in their hours alone together. He may have only been relieved to see another person, while her whole heart had reacted with wonder at his touch.
“I will teach all of you. What choice do I have? It is that, or risk you destroying what I have built.” He did not relax, did not appear in the least pleased by the agreement. “The first thing to worry over is food. You are all hungry?”
“Starving, more like,” Irene mut
tered. Alejandro heard. His eyes darted to hers.
“You know nothing of starvation, Señorita. But you will before long.” A chill went down Hope’s spine hearing Alejandro speak with such surety, but seeing the haunted, dark look come into his eyes stilled her protests. He spoke from experience.
Albert stepped in front of his sister, putting a hand on her shoulder. But whether the gesture was meant to comfort her or shield her from Alejandro’s words, or something else entirely, Hope couldn’t be sure.
“If I might enter the house.” Alejandro nodded to the structure of twigs, mud, and rock. “There is dried seal meat. It is not much, but it will help.”
The doctor stepped aside and went in first, Alejandro behind him.
“This is wretched,” Irene whispered, closing her eyes against more tears. “Dried seal meat? What can he mean, asking us to eat such a thing? Oh, I would rather starve.”
Rather than say something of sense to his sister, Albert murmured to Hope and Irene both. “He is doing this on purpose, though I cannot guess why.”
A retort rose to her lips, in a hasty defense of the single man present with the qualifications to keep them alive for however long it took rescue to come. Yet Hope took her tongue sharply between her teeth and said nothing. Grace would say nothing, and she must remain as Grace for the time being. How did her sister always maintain calm composure in the face of such stupidity? If only Hope could end the ruse.
With everyone’s heightened fear, and the Carlburys behaving somewhat irrationally, throwing any more confusion into the situation by declaring her true identity to them struck her as unwise. The truth would divide the Carlburys and Hope further, and as she knew no one so well as they, she must keep their trust and friendship.
Even if Albert acted like a strutting peacock.
9
Ten people to feed, care for, and instruct on the dangers of living on an island smaller than the plot of land his father owned outside of Buenos Aires. As Alejandro doled out the seal meat, he paid close attention to each person’s reaction. First, he saw that the women had what they needed, including the doctor’s injured wife. She took the food with a grateful nod of her head and whispered thanks. Miss Carlbury winced and accepted the food he offered, saying nothing but expressing her disgust clearly enough with the wrinkle of her nose and the dainty way she held the dried meat between two fingers.
Miss Everly did as she had the day before, accepting the strips of meat from the dry leather wrappings with a wide smile. “Thank you, Señor Córdoba.”
He almost responded to her. Almost told her it might be even drier than the day before. Instead, he stepped away, saying nothing. Their familiarity had come to an end almost as soon as it had begun. He took the meat to the sailors next.
“Wait a moment,” the idiotic Carlbury said. “You would feed the common laborers before the gentlemen?” He stepped closer to Alejandro, his posture rigid.
Why did that protest not surprise him? It was time for the Englishman to learn his first lesson of survival.
“While there is enough for all,” Alejandro said, not bothering to even look in the direction of the whining dog, “and I will always see to the women first, our survival depends on hard work. One look at these men”—he nodded to the sailors—“tells me all I need know about who is accustomed to such labor. I doubt you have ever lifted anything heavier than a book. You have likely never fished without a rod, either.”
Carlbury spluttered for a moment, then his hand came down on Alejandro’s shoulder. “Now see here—”
“Albert.” The soft, lilting way Miss Everly spoke that absurd man’s name made Alejandro’s stomach twist unpleasantly. What was their relationship, that they spoke so familiarly with each other? The man had been protective of Miss Everly, too. Alejandro wondered if there was an understanding between them. “Please,” she continued, appearing at Alejandro’s side. “Will you help take the pail from the fire? It’s boiled, and it needs to cool before we can take some to Mrs. Morgan. The meat is so dry—she needs something to drink.”
Luckily for Carlbury, the Englishman removed his hand and moved away to do as the woman asked, leaving Alejandro to finish his task.
Food that would have lasted him two weeks if he rationed it carefully was soon gone completely. Aside from the cooling water, he had nothing else to offer the shipwrecked group. He found food as he needed it most of the time.
The Carlbury woman had gone back inside the shelter, but Miss Everly remained, arms wrapped about herself. The doctor spoke to her, somewhat earnestly, and she frowned up at him.
Alejandro clapped his hands, loudly, to gain attention once more.
“We have two objectives this morning. The first is to ensure we do not go hungry. The second is to take stock of supplies and how we might use them. I have two spears, for fishing.” He turned to the sailors, meeting Madden’s intense gaze. “Do you think you can manage them?”
Without hesitation, the large dark-skinned man made his answer. “Not me. But Smith and Hitchens know how to fish.”
“Good. There are rock pools near the western bank.” Alejandro kneeled and drew an outline of the island in the dirt.
Enough of his education and his over-familiarity with the land mass made it easy enough to make the outline of a bird in flight, the albatross, with a heavy midsection and wings curved outward and down, creating the space for the two coves. The narrowest parts of the island were from the inside of each cove across to the northwestern bank.
He pointed to the southern tip of the island. “We are here. If you walk through the trees, northeast, and then go west when the ground levels out, you will find the pools. I usually have good luck there.”
“We go together,” the one identified as Smith said, his accent heavier than Madden’s. “We will bring back fish and wood.” The sailors left without another word, disappearing beneath the trees. They were men used to hard work, and likely the only people in the group of shipwrecked newcomers with sense enough to survive whether or not Alejandro assisted them.
Alejandro would need to keep everyone else busy or risk their desperate ignorance harming everyone’s ability to make the best of things.
“We ought to gather enough greenery to burn a signal fire,” Mr. Carlbury muttered.
As long as he had been out of society, Alejandro had no concern for maintaining a polite veneer. Not with a fool. “And you think people are already looking for you? Here, when you were blown off course in a storm that lasted hours?” he asked, not even looking at the Englishman. “You would risk burning plants that we may eat or use for survival, too?”
“I had rather make an effort toward rescue than sit and do nothing,” the man retorted hotly.
Alejandro whirled around. “I have no use for fools on this island, Señor Carlbury. We have known each other less than a day, but every word out of your mouth tells me exactly the sort of burden you will be. You have never soiled your hands. You are of no use here. I would rather have you sit and do nothing than even attempt assistance.”
“How dare you—”
The doctor stepped forward, his face pale. “There is no need for this. I am certain Mr. Carlbury is as anxious as the rest of us to do what he can—”
Carlbury snarled. “I am not going to take orders from a man living like a savage.”
“Savage?” Alejandro laughed without any true mirth. Had this man known him even two years ago, what would he have thought of Alejandro? “I do what I must to survive. If you refuse to see this, perhaps we need not suffer your company long.”
Carlbury lunged forward at the same moment his sister cried out and fell against her friend, nearly knocking the shorter Miss Everly to the ground. The doctor and the other gentleman, Thorne, grabbed hold of Carlbury.
“Is this necessary?” Thorne asked, glaring at Alejandro.
“It is natural to be distraught, Carlbury,” the doctor said. “But you must keep your head.”
Alejandro dismissed the str
uggling men with a hand. “The sooner he accepts what must be, the better. It is the same for all of you.” Without his meaning to, he looked directly at the lovely Miss Everly, who held her distraught friend with both arms. Her dark brows were drawn down sharply, but she did not glare at him as the others did. Her expression was different. Thoughtful. Intense. He sensed something in her. A conflict. He didn’t expect her to speak.
“Albert,” Miss Everly said, her tone sharp. “Your sister needs your attention.” The Englishman did not respond, though he stopped straining against the two men that held him.
Señorita Carlbury moaned, then released yet another sob. The girl would make herself sick if she kept on in that manner. The way she had wilted into her friend’s arms gave him little hope of finding a use for her. At last her brother jerked his arms away from the other men and turned, taking his sister by the arm. “Come inside the shelter, Irene. Rest with Mrs. Morgan.” Miss Everly bit her lip and watched them go, that strange indecision on her face again.
Alejandro had no time for these people and their fits. “Doctor, you say you are a naturalist.” He tried for a less hostile tone, but heard the anger in his voice well enough. “Perhaps you might educate the others on what animals are dangerous to them.”
The doctor sighed and his shoulders fell. “Of course, Señor.”
Alejandro nodded and left. Without another word. Without glancing at Miss Everly to see if she followed her friends back into the shelter. It wasn’t his concern, how she decided to behave.
He told himself she would likely be no better, no more apt than the rest of them, to be useful on the island. Once the novelty of being on an adventure, whatever that meant, wore away, she would be as prone to fainting spells as Señorita Carlbury.
The possessive manner in which Carlbury stood over her, touched her, and spoke to her, had not escaped Alejandro at all. The man attempted to claim her with every gesture, but she did not appear entirely accepting of that. Perhaps things would change when her faith in rescue dimmed.
Saving Miss Everly Page 7