* * * *
Lesley found the next few days a pleasant lull in her strange odyssey. The captain did not sleep in his cabin and in fact it appeared as if he hadn’t slept a wink. Once a day, he lifted her from the bunk and put her up on deck where Jibby kept her company and taught her how to sew sheeting for the sails.
The sounds of hammers and saws went on long into the night as every hand worked to repair the ship’s damage. The captain sawed planks for the deck and Lesley fought to stifle the thrill of watching his muscles ripple as he worked.
Working under a bright sun, the captain had discarded his shirt. His body glistened with sweat, outlining every sinew. Those glorious britches displayed his fine thighs and butt. Heat suffused her entire body as she remembered their near tryst in his cabin. She repeatedly stabbed herself with the needle as she sewed because she paid little attention to the task at hand.
Before darkness fell, the captain carried her back to the bunk. He said little, simply the barest essentials. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, and run her fingers through his britches, but she balled her hands into tight fists and merely muttered her thanks for the ride.
Then she spent her lonely nights in the bunk dreaming of him. In every dream, they made wild passionate love. She woke up unsatisfied and longing to get her hands on him despite the danger.
Though everyone worked diligently on the repairs, the Lyrical leaked worse than ever and the pumps were manned at all times. The ship continued on course toward New Providence, despite a distinct lack of sail.
In addition to Jibby, the doctor spent some time with her. When Dr. Gilroy was alone with her he asked for all the details of her experience in traveling backward through time. He listened with great attentiveness and nodded, but he did not take notes and he never offered any ideas of how she could return to her own time.
It would have been depressing if the weather had not been glorious and sunny, plus the work songs of the crew entertained her. Her ankle still throbbed but she had gotten better at hobbling along with the crutch for short distances. She could see why some people liked sailing. With nice weather and no battles, traveling by boat seemed pleasant and rather calming. If she closed her eyes, she could almost envision herself on a fabulous vacation cruise. She knew at any moment the situation on the Lyrical could change, but for now she soaked up all the sun she could.
On the fourth day after the freak wave, the captain did not come to take her out on deck. Nevertheless, Jibby came to sit with her for a while. He opened one of the stained-glass windows in the cabin.
He wrung his hands and peered at the sky. “My father was a fisherman, and he told me about those clouds. ‘Get to high ground.’ He said.”
Her breath hitched up in her throat. Damn. Her apprehension grew as the wind picked up and the waves grew higher.
Jibby shut the window after a short while. “If we had enough canvas, we could sail before the wind and outrun it.”
From the way he said it, she assumed they didn’t stand a chance.
He was called away on another task, leaving her alone to listen to the howl of the gale. It did not take long for the storm to hit the Lyrical full force. Towering waves battered the already damaged ship. With increasing violence, it pitched and rolled in the monstrous sea. Anything not tied down in the cabin fell to the floor. Lesley gripped the edge of the bunk to prevent herself from being thrown to the floor. The tempest roared with a growl so terrifying it sounded as if all the demons in hell had been let loose.
She wished with all her heart she had never attempted driving to Virginia Beach that one fateful day.
When one of the stained glass windows shattered, she screamed. Water sloshed into the cabin as the ship shuddered. In desperation, she got off the bunk and dragged the lumpy mattress across the room to stuff it into the gaping hole.
It helped, but not much since smaller streams of water still poured in around the edges. Cold and soaked through to the skin, her heart pounded like the bass drum in a rock band. Hopping on one foot and lugging the mattress to the broken window had been a difficult maneuver. She stood in shin-deep water and stared at the captain’s soaked possessions as they floated by her feet. She wondered how many minutes more she had to live.
Then she saw the little wooden horse whirling around in the water not a foot away from her. She snatched it up and held it to her chest. Warmth sprang out from the toy and she drew in a deep sigh of relief.
“At least I’m not alone,” she whispered.
When two more windows broke, she decided it was time to leave the cabin.
Chapter Eleven
Harlan ordered all the cannons and shot thrown into the sea. Extra weight must go. The Lyrical had taken on too much water and the sea could swamp them.
He had no warning and no time to brace himself when the rudder broke. The helm spun wildly and the deck tilted at an abrupt angle, throwing him against the skylight. His forehead took the brunt of the impact. Shaking his head to clear it, he wiped away blood as it trickled down his face. He cursed aloud at yet another cruel twist of fate. With the helm now useless, the ship lay at the complete mercy of the storm. It could capsize in the turbulent waves.
Scrambling to his feet, he found Moody on the quarterdeck ordering another man to pick up the helmsman who had also been thrown when the rudder broke.
“Get the carpenter and several men. We must fashion a temporary rudder,” he shouted to his first mate.
“This is a hurricane, Captain!”
“Yes, Mr. Moody, but we must fix the rudder.”
Moody glared at him. He turned and grabbed the crewman who had helped the helmsman to his feet. He told him to convey the captain’s order.
With the situation worsening, Harlan decided now was the time to put Lesley into a boat, at least she would have some chance of escape if the situation became impossible.
He nearly tripped over Lesley as she crawled along in the corridor outside his cabin in a foot of water.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where did you get the cut on your forehead?”
“It’s nothing. Are you well?”
“Yes, but when the ship tilted I fell and lost my crutch. It floated away ... somewhere.” She waved her hand.
“The rudder broke.”
“That can’t be good.” Her voice trembled.
“I will put you into one of the boats.”
“Are we abandoning the ship?”
“Not yet, we are still afloat.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He helped her up, and noticed she held the small pony in her hands. A shiver went up his spine. Whatever sorcery the toy possessed unnerved him but this would be a good time for magic if it could save the ship.
“Wait here.” He left her standing in the corridor and waded into his cabin. He chose a knife and took the lantern that swung from the ceiling, which still glowed.
His books, the ship’s log—everything was ruined. He had known the danger of the sea, but he had gone through other storms on other ships—and survived.
How many times could he cheat death?
He returned to Lesley, handed her the lantern, and the knife. Then he struggled to open the door that led to the quarterdeck. It stuck fast. He kicked it to no avail. Returning to his cabin, he grabbed an ax and swung at the door. It took several blows before it gave way. As he shoved it open, he discovered it had been blocked by a large piece of wood.
Fury rose with all the heat of a volcano inside him. Someone had intended to keep him and Lesley inside.
“Hold on tight,” he ordered as he lifted Lesley in his arms. As he stood in the doorframe with her, the mainmast crashed to the deck.
When he stepped out onto the quarterdeck, he struggled to keep his footing. The force of the winds increased and with the rain lashing at him, he could barely see. Once he arrived at the waist, he realized his initial plan to get Lesley to safety had failed. The boats had already been lowered into the sea. Moody, visible in
his bright yellow coat, and a dozen other men rowed away in the heavy seas with the small dory in tow carrying more men. The other boat had been caught in a tangle of fallen lines from the main mast. Men chopped furiously at the debris with their hatchets in an effort to escape. Hooper, obviously freed from his prison, bellowed at the men to work faster.
When Harlan came close, Aloysius Meeker pointed a musket at him.
“There’ll be no more room left in this boat, captain. We’ll not overload it in these rough seas.”
“Who gave the order to abandon ship?” Harlan roared.
“Mr. Moody, of course.” Meeker smiled.
As the boat was freed from the lines, men took the oars and rowed away.
Harlan pressed his lips together. A huge wave slammed upon the Lyrical’s bow. He held his breath waiting for it to rise again. Slowly, the water fell away and he let out his breath.
“We’re doomed.” Lesley said.
“The small boats in this sea could capsize or be swamped by a large wave.” He did not tell her that since the Lyrical had turned broadside to the waves they were in a similarly precarious and deadly situation.
“There may be others left behind,” he said. He went below, carrying Lesley. It was a relief to be shielded from the screaming wind but on the lower deck, water sloshed everywhere, carrying debris with it as the ship rolled and yawed in the churning sea. He had to slog through it carefully to avoid getting knocked over by barrels and footlockers.
His throat tightened. That much water on the lower deck did not bode well for orlop deck. His heart thundered as he approached the stairs.
“You cannot go down there,” Lesley said.
“I must see if anyone ....” He could say no more for he knew the odds.
He propped Lesley next to a cannon carriage. She handed him the lantern and he went down one step, then one more. The water reached his chest but he held the lantern high.
Dead men drifted through the seawater.
Fear clawed at him. He knew Gilly would never leave his patients unless he was taken by force. Harlan grabbed the corpses as they slid by him and stared into the faces of the dead men. He knew them all. He had fought side by side with them and they had been both brave and fierce, but he did not want to find his friend among them.
Yet, he knew in his heart what must have happened. He found the doctor--silent and cold, with a bullet hole in his forehead.
“Bastards!”
On this ship of fools, he had one friend, and now he had been taken from him. The ache in his chest grew into an empty yawning blackness that spread inside him until he was as numb as all the poor souls in orlop deck. Would he, too, die in this endless watery grave?
“Are you all right?” Lesley’s voice called to him from cannon carriage. “Captain! Answer me!”
“Yes! Yes, I am coming.” He released Gilly from his hold and waded back to the stairway. He could do nothing for the old physician now, but it might not be too late for Lesley and him. Harlan must not give up for her sake.
* * * *
Lesley’s panic level on a scale of one to ten stood at twenty. Time became her enemy. In 2011, she believed she had all the time in the world. Now every second counted. Of course, if this was hell, she shouldn’t expect less.
The waves crashed over the Lyrical as it settled lower and lower into the sea. The wind screamed and rain fell in solid sheets as she perched on the stairway that led to the poop deck. The sea had taken the waist of the Lyrical. The entire ship would disappear below the waves at any moment.
Drenched and numb with cold, she watched the captain build a raft. He worked quickly by lashing together barrels, hatch covers, and other parts of the ship. He included a few footlockers, which he stashed with whatever provisions he could gather that were not yet waterlogged.
She placed the little horse in one of the footlockers where she hoped it would be safe. The footlocker should float, even if the raft sank.
Fear closed up her throat and she could barely swallow. She could not do much to help except roll up rope or fold canvas. Keeping her hands occupied served to stave off the grief in her heart. The captain had told her of the doctor’s death. For her, there would be no going back and at the moment it appeared as if her body could wind up in the bottom of the sea.
Or in some shark’s belly.
The captain tossed a hammock, a couple of soggy blankets, a pot, some bowls, and tools on the raft.
“It is time.” He lifted her from the stairs and set her on the raft. “You must hold tightly,” he warned.
“I’ve ridden Nitro at Six Flags Great Adventure. I can handle this.” She boasted though she quailed inside. The raft had no safety features--no seat belts, no airbags. Would it even float?
His icy stare chilled her, reminding her that he was a pirate who stabbed people right through the heart and blasted them to pieces with cannonballs, but he was all she had for company. She shuddered to think of being left alone on the sinking Lyrical with the dead men in orlop deck for companionship.
The captain untied the ropes attached to the Lyrical and hopped aboard the raft with her. “The wind is blowing southwest. We will cruise to warmer climes.”
“The world is mostly ocean—seventy-one percent. Finding land is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.” She bit her lip, settled against a corner where the captain had lashed down the two footlockers, and clutched at the ropes that held the raft together. “I sure wish I had my GPS.”
“I have traveled over much of the world. We will find land.” After he spoke, a huge wave washed over the Lyrical, picked up the raft and carried it away.
She turned to watch as the Lyrical and all the souls of the dead sank beneath the waves. Her time on the ship had been short and fraught with dramatic moments. Still, there had been a few good days and she never gave up the belief--no matter how negligible--that the doctor could send her home since his experiment had delivered her to this time and place. She continued to have faith in him to find a way to reverse the process, but that small glimmer of hope died along with him.
Her soul withered, leaving an immeasurable ache inside her. She had to face the fact that she would never see her dear sister again or her niece and nephew. Never. Never. Never.
The reality of that loss cut so deep she did not know if she could bear it. Yes, all her former luxuries had vanished as well, but that meant little. Her sister would not know how much she missed her, how much she loved her and those sweet children.
She thought about the last time they had been together. They had gone apple picking in an orchard. The sun had been warm on their skin and joy reigned over every moment. Her migraine had receded to a tolerable level and she had been relaxed. They had laughed and snapped hundreds of photos of the kids who were adorable in every picture. After returning to her sister’s house, they made apple crisp, which they ate warm with vanilla ice cream.
Would the kids remember her when they grew up? How she wished she could hug them one more time.
The wind screamed louder and the rain dumped sheets of water at her. Did it matter if she cried? Who would notice her tears? She closed her eyes as the grief in her heart rose up and threatened to swallow her.
The captain’s hand wiped her cheek and a sob escaped her lips.
“It is gone.” His voice sounded tight, but it could have been the wind carrying his words away. “But we live.”
Her time to wallow in sorrow did not last for the wild sea threatened to swamp the raft, though it proved its buoyancy time and again as it climbed each watery mountain to the pinnacle and then dropped like a rock into a trough with a splash. She clutched at the ropes until they cut into her skin.
Her ankle hurt like hell. Bruised from head to toe and freezing cold, her teeth chattered while her entire body shivered. She wondered how long it would take before she came to the very end of her endurance or the limit of her sanity.
“We must keep warm.” The captain’s arms came around her. Th
e strength of his well-defined sinews set her heart palpitating in a most unusual manner as she remembered that erotic heavy petting session in his cabin.
Dammit. She might drown and all she could think of was that cannon in his britches.
Her stomach rumbled. And she could not stop thinking about food either.
“I would love a big, fat juicy cheeseburger and a king-sized portion of greasy, salty French fries,” she muttered. “I don’t suppose they’ve been invented yet, but if you could do me a favor and slaughter a cow, I’ll introduce you to fast food.”
He sighed into her ear, which tickled her in a dangerously sensual manner. She leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes. Her temperature went up several degrees.
“The islands have many turtles.” He crooned the words. “We will eat those.”
The fantasy she had begun to weave in her mind disintegrated.
“You can’t eat turtles. Most of them are endangered—and some carry salmonella.”
“They are easy to catch.”
“Naturally, they don’t move quickly, which is why they’re endangered. You should leave the poor creatures alone.”
“Some are far too fatty and not good for eating, but there are those that are quite palatable.”
“Palatable is not a rave review. Why don’t we catch a lobster? Or shrimp? How about flounder stuffed with crabmeat.” Her stomach rumbled again.
He chuckled. “You are hungry.”
“I’m starving. At this point, I’ll eat raw fish. Sushi we call it. I’ve never been a devotee, but that could change right now.”
“There is hardtack, but it is damp.”
“Is that all you brought?”
He tightened his grip on her so they fit tightly together. “When the stars come out, I will calculate our position.”
She gulped as she stared as his long legs dwarfing hers. It didn’t take much math to come to the deduction that this arrangement could be dangerous. She glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds still hung above the little boat, but the rain had almost stopped. On the horizon the sky cleared.
She returned to looking at his long legs and the ridged arms that held her securely. She drank in every detail about him and forgot about her hunger for food. Instead her mind became consumed with the almost feral scent of him. He was more beast than a man. Need smoldered inside her, a hunger like nothing she had ever experienced.
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