Forsaken Dreams (25 page)

A night breeze, laden with the scent of wild orchids and sweet mangoes, swirled about her, nearly wiping away the stench of the ship and its filthy crew—an odor that seemed permanently lodged in her lungs. She peered into the darkness, seeking Mr. Lewis. The aged carpenter always carried a flask of brandy on him. And Magnolia always managed to talk him out of a sip. Or two. But he was nowhere in sight. Only a few slouching shadows loomed on the fore- and quarterdeck that were most likely watchmen fast asleep.

Another figure stood at the starboard railing, just outside the light from the lantern hanging from the mainmast. Magnolia took a step forward, squinting into the darkness. Mercy, it was Eliza. She was the last person Magnolia wished to see! She imagined the feeling was mutual. No doubt the woman hated her for what she’d done. Turning, Magnolia intended to return to her cabin when an alarming and utterly foreign idea halted her.
Perhaps I should apologize
. That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? After all, Magnolia hadn’t meant to say anything. In fact, she hardly remembered saying anything at all. But, for goodness’ sake, since Eliza was to be cast off on the morrow, an apology was the least Magnolia could offer her for the trouble she’d caused. Bracing herself for the lady’s rage, Magnolia crossed the deck and slipped beside her. Eliza’s lips moved beneath closed eyes.

Praying?
How quaint
. Yet Magnolia supposed she might be reduced to prayer if she were being stranded on an island in the morning. She leaned toward her, longing to hear how laypeople prayed. All she’d ever heard were the prayers recited in church.

Eliza’s eyes shot open. She reeled backward with a start. “Magnolia, you frightened me.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to.”

Eliza’s gaze scoured her from head to toe. “Do you need medical attention?”

The true concern in her voice only heightened Magnolia’s guilt. “No. I’m quite all right.” She sighed and glanced over the inky sea. Inky and dark like her soul.

Eliza’s brow knitted. “As you know, I won’t be around after tonight, so if you have a question or a complaint I can help you with …”

Magnolia swept a shocked gaze her way. “You would help
me
?”

Moonlight trickled over Eliza’s smile as she glanced toward the island.

“After what I did?” Magnolia leaned on the railing. Across the bay, dark shadows churned and swayed, making the island look like a breathing, living entity. A monkey howled. Or at least Magnolia thought it was a monkey. She shivered at the thought of being in the jungle alone.

“I came to tell you how sorry I am.” Tears burned behind Magnolia’s eyes. “I never meant to break my promise. I was … well, I was …”

Eliza covered Magnolia’s hand with hers. “I know.” She gave a tiny smile of understanding. “You weren’t yourself.”

Though Magnolia heard the words, she could not process them. All she could do was stare at the woman whose life she had ruined.

“We all make mistakes, Magnolia. Believe me, I know how it feels to be punished for something you can’t take back.”

Magnolia swallowed.

Eliza patted her hand then gripped the railing again. “You are forgiven.”

A tear slid down Magnolia’s cheek. “Just like that. You could die because of me.”

“My life is in God’s hands, not yours. Here,” she said, handing her a handkerchief. “What’s done is done.”

Magnolia dabbed her face. “But I blackmailed you.”

“Alcohol does strange things to people.”

Magnolia sniffed, wondering why she smelled smoke all of a sudden. “I suppose you must think me a spoiled tart, a spoiled, besotted tart.”

Eliza turned toward her. “No, I don’t. I think you are hurting. I think you drink to cover something up. Something deep inside.”

Indignation flamed up Magnolia’s spine. “Mercy me, of all the nerve! You don’t know me.” How dare the woman gaze at Magnolia as if she were somehow beneath her? “What could possibly be wrong with my life? Aside from being forced on this despicable journey, that is. I’m wealthy and beautiful and educated. I can play the piano and paint a masterpiece, and I speak French and Italian. Men adore me, vie for my hand in marriage.”

Eliza’s lips folded, but still the look of pity remained. “I meant no offense.”

“I wish you the best, Eliza. Good night.” Magnolia spun around. She needed a drink, and she needed one badly.

Eliza stared after the beauty as she flounced across the deck and disappeared below. What an odd conversation. What an odd woman. One minute apologetic, the next riding her high horse. Yet Eliza found no anger within her toward the woman. Regardless of her list of accomplishments and abilities, Magnolia seemed haunted by something, desperate even, and a bit broken inside. Despite the airs she put on to impress others.

Something Eliza need not worry about. She knew where she stood—with these people, with her family back home. With the entire country, in fact.

The smell of smoke curled her nose. She scanned the ship. A white haze floated over the deck. A shadow shifted to her left. Blake dropped from the quarterdeck and darted to the main hatch where a misty vapor pumped into the air.

“Fire!”

C
HAPTER
18

G
rabbing the bucket, Blake tossed the seawater on the last dying embers in the hold. The coals sputtered, closing their red, glowing eyes with the final hiss of their demise. The line of exhausted men that extended up the ladder cheered. Faces creased with soot shone with glee in the lantern light as the crowd broke up and headed above.

Hayden slapped Blake on the back. “Good thing you saw the smoke in time.” With his dark hair, soot-covered face, and wide eyes, the man looked more like a startled owl at midnight than their tenacious stowaway.

Running a sleeve over his forehead, Blake chuckled at the sight.

Hayden gave him a knowing grin. “You’re quite a mess yourself, mate.”

Captain Barclay, sweat dripping from his beard, stared at smoking ashes. “Souse me for a gurnet, I can’t figure what started the fire. Especially in the hold. My men know better than to leave a lantern lit down here.”

“Perhaps a passenger …” James spoke from the ladder as he descended to join them.

Moses emerged from the shadows, ashes blotching his meaty arms. “No sir. No passengers down this far. We was all asleep above.”

James stared at the smoking remains of what had been a pile of old sailcloth. “Thank God the flames were put out easily.”

“Aye,” Captain Barclay said. “Or we’d
all
be marooned on this island.”

Like Eliza
. The smell of smoke and bilge bit Blake’s nose as the thought bit his heart.

“This trip be cursed, says I,” one of the sailors said, his voice heightened with fear. “We’ll be lucky to make it to Brazil alive.”

The captain huffed his response and waved toward the man. “Gather some men and get this mess cleaned up and the water pumped out. Then inspect the hold for damage.” As the sailor sped off, Captain Barclay faced Blake. “We should question Miss Magnolia. If she’s desperate enough to toss my instruments overboard, who’s to say she wouldn’t start a fire?”

Blake shifted his boots in the sludge and winced at the ache in both legs. Though he’d love to draw suspicion toward the spoon-fed tart and away from Eliza as the source of their bad luck, he could not do so in good conscience. “Don’t think it was her. I saw her above with Eliza when the fire started.”

“Ah yes, Mrs. Crawford. Lenn!” The captain shouted at the sailor, who poked his head back down the hatchway. “Tell Max to get ashore with Mrs. Crawford straightaway. I want to set sail in a few hours.” Then turning, he headed toward the ladder muttering, “Cursed woman.”

Blake hung his head. Why had he gone and reminded the captain of Eliza?

An hour later, washed and wearing fresh clothes, Blake stood at the railing watching a boatload of sailors row Eliza ashore. She hadn’t pleaded or groveled or begged or cried. She’d merely stared straight ahead. All except one glance. One glance at Blake before she climbed down the rope ladder. It was enough to see the remorse, the anguish, the fear in her eyes. Not hatred. Not anger as he’d expected.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop that morning. Another restless night had driven him above, seeking solace in the gentle waters of the bay—seeking solace for a mind not only tortured with recurring battles, but swamped with thoughts of Eliza’s perilous future. Then she had appeared, as if his dreams had taken form. He watched as she gazed over the sea, wistful and morose, before she clasped her trembling hands together and bowed her head in prayer. He watched her for several minutes from his position in the shadows of the quarterdeck, feeling like a muckraker for intruding on her privacy. He watched her because he could do nothing else. Then when Miss Magnolia had joined her, his curiosity got the better of him. All right. So he
had been
eavesdropping.

But what he’d heard sent his mind reeling. She’d forgiven Magnolia! She’d forgiven the pretentious, spoiled lush without so much as a blink of her eye. The woman who had ruined her life and shoved her into a future riddled with uncertainty and danger. Astounding!

Now as the men rowed Eliza to that treacherous future, she cast one last glance over her shoulder at him. If he were a praying man, he’d petition God for her safety, but he’d given up on prayer long ago. Instead, he ran a hand through his wet hair and cursed.

Blast it! He could not reconcile a lying Yankee with the woman he saw last night. How could he keep his anger toward her blazing when her honor, kindness, and generosity doused the flames at every turn? Sunlight sliced swords of silver across the bay as if angry at Eliza’s fate. Steam rose from the jungle, blurring the island. Yet no breeze stirred to offer comfort to those witnessing the lady’s judgment. Blake dabbed the sweat from his forehead, resisting the urge to follow her. To escort her to Roseau himself. Forfeit his journey to Brazil. His dreams. But his brother’s howl as a Yankee sword plunged into his gut, his family’s screams as they burned to death, haunted him with voices that had been silenced far too young, voices demanding justice.

And he couldn’t do it.

James appeared beside him, his gaze following Blake’s. “You did your best to save her.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“God will take care of her. I’ve been praying, and I sense He’s already answered.”

Blake snorted and shifted his weight.

“How’s your leg?” James asked.

“Healing.” Blake stretched it out. Even after standing on it for hours, no blood stained the bandage she’d applied.

“She’s a good nurse,” James said.

Blake was about to agree when Angeline dashed to his side, her face twisted in fear. “It’s Sarah.” Her gaze shifted to Eliza nearly on shore then back to Blake.

“What about her?” James stepped forward.

“She’s having her baby. And something is terribly wrong,”

James assisted Eliza over the railing. “How is she?”

“In a lot of pain and bleeding heavily. She’s asking for you.” James took her arm and swept her past the onlooking passengers and crew and down the companionway ladder. A scream that sounded as though Sarah’s limbs were being ripped off one by one filtered from below.

“Have you ever delivered a baby, James?”

“No.” He stopped at the door to the sick bay, fear skittering across his eyes. “I did most of my doctoring on the battlefield. Regardless, I can’t do this. Not with all that blood.”

Eliza nodded and grabbed the handle. “Hot water, clean rags. Lots of them, please. Oh, and rum if you can find it.”

“Already got them. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” Another ear-piercing howl split the air. Eliza’s heart raced. “Not to worry, Doctor, I understand. Besides, I’d rather be here than out in the jungle.”

He smiled and opened the door, ushering her inside. Sarah lay on the cot gripping her belly, terror contorting her features. Angeline sat beside her holding her hand. Both ladies’ expressions softened when they saw Eliza.

There was so much blood. Eliza withheld the shriek that jumped to her throat as she moved toward Sarah. “So, your little one decided to make an early appearance? Doesn’t she know she’s not due for another two months?”