by Judith Pella
First the blood drained from Benjamin’s face, then he felt it return in a rush of heat.
“Aboard this ship?” he managed to say through his shock.
“That’s right, Reverend. I’m surprised you didn’t know of it, ’cause I saw you conversing with one of ’em on the docks yesterday before we set sail.”
“You are quite mistaken. I would never!”
“Maybe you didn’t know at the time, but you chased a pickpocket away from her.”
“No!” He felt himself flush even deeper. “But she . . . that is . . .
I . . . can’t—”
“You think they gonna have horns in their heads or something, Reverend?” The amusement on the man’s face was as distressing as his dismaying revelation.
“This is outrageous!” Benjamin hid his embarrassment in righteous indignation. “I cannot believe Mr. Austin would allow such immorality into his colony.”
“Well, I reckon even Mr. Austin’s got to turn a blind eye to some things. And in a country where men outnumber the women ten to one—”
“That’s enough!” Benjamin huffed. “I’ll not listen to lame excuses and glib defenses. There is no just argument for such wanton immorality. I see I am needed in the colony of Texas more than I ever dreamed.” Then it occurred to him that the very ship in which he now traveled might be assailed with immorality. “Does the captain know?”
“It’s hard to say. He might not have given them passage if he did.”
“Well, I’m going to speak to him immediately.”
As Benjamin spun around, one of the men called, “Too late to put them off the ship now.”
Filled with a sense of outrage, Benjamin continued on his way. It took him fifteen minutes to locate the captain because one of the crew mistakenly sent him to the man’s cabin, which was empty. He finally found him on the bridge, but by the time Benjamin reached it, his rage had calmed somewhat. He realized there was little to be done now that they were already en route. But he would at least register his protest.
However, when he reached the bridge and found his son there with the captain, Benjamin was torn in yet another direction. The boy’s eyes were glowing with excitement.
“Papa! The captain let me steer the ship!” This was not the same boy Benjamin had been traveling with the last several weeks.
“Reverend Sinclair, you have a fine boy,” the captain put in.
“I hope he has not been a bother to you, Captain Wakefield,” Benjamin said.
“Not in the least. Haven’t had such an enthusiastic pupil in years.” The captain had eyes that glittered with sincerity and nearly as much enthusiasm as Micah’s.
“Captain Wakefield said if I come up tonight, he will show me how to steer by the stars,” Micah said.
“That’s very kind of him.” Benjamin could not make himself take that moment to browbeat the man who appeared to be his son’s hero. “Perhaps we should go now, Micah, and leave Captain Wakefield to his work.”
“He’s welcome to stay,” the captain said. “He’s no trouble.”
“Please, may I, Papa?”
Benjamin hesitated. As much as he hated to admit it, it stung knowing his son would rather be with this stranger than with his father. But he was too proud to force the issue.
“All right, but only for a few minutes. The captain does have work to do.”
“You are welcome to stay also, Reverend Sinclair,” put in Captain Wakefield.
“No, thank you. I have . . . uh . . . some errands to see to.” He turned and left the bridge. He had forgotten all about RaeAnn’s heinous “cargo.”
To distract himself from weighty thoughts of his son and the delicacies of fatherhood, Benjamin set out upon his former mission of trying to find a quiet place for his evening prayers. He wouldn’t need the retreat until after dinner, but there was no sense wasting time then to find it. Besides, the exercise required by the search would do him good.
His venture took him from one end of the ship to the other without success. There was constant activity on the decks, so no nook or alcove there was suitable. He encountered two or three passengers at the rails looking decidedly green from seasickness. He thanked God he apparently was immune to that weakness. Micah and Isabel, too, had not been affected, but Rebekah was somewhat ill, though, thank God, not nearly as much as he noted in many other passengers. Benjamin once again felt God’s hand upon his family.
Finding no proper retreat above deck, Benjamin made his way below decks. He was getting into areas that were no doubt near the cargo holds when he decided he would have to speak to the captain or first mate and have them suggest a place. There might be a vacant cabin. His own cabin of one small room was cramped, housing his entire family and offering very little quiet.
It was then he heard the peculiar noise. A crashing sound followed by a sharp cry that was not quite so serious as a scream but distressful nonetheless and definitely female. What would a female passenger be doing in these parts? He thought fleetingly of the “cargo” the two men had spoken of, but even as such, they would not literally be kept in the cargo hold.
He went toward the sound and soon came to a hatch that was open a crack. Pushing it open further, he stepped inside. The only light in the room came from a single candle at the far end. In the shadowed light he saw a figure, definitely female by the shape of the skirts surrounding it.
“Are you all right?” he called.
“Oh!” was the startled response. “Yes. I . . . I was trying to find something, and a crate nearly fell on me.”
“Can I be of assistance?” Benjamin strode toward the candlelight.
He stopped short when the woman turned and the light caught her full in the face. It was the very woman he had assisted on the dock. Recognition dawned upon her face at the same moment.
“It seems you have come to my rescue once again, sir,” she said lightly.
His mouth hung ajar, but no sound came out. This was that kind of woman. A fallen woman, a harlot. He gaped, as if she did indeed have horns growing from her head. But to his further amazement, she looked quite normal, even refined. Like a proper lady. She was even beautiful, but he quickly banished that particular observation from his mind. Instead, he thought how Satan often appeared as an angel of light. He also thought that he had never, to his knowledge, actually seen such a person and definitely never spoken to one. Yet twice within two days he had rescued her, speaking to her as if she were deserving of conversation with decent folk.
“Sir, is something wrong?” Her brow wrinkled in perplexity, and she glanced down at her feet as if expecting to find a rat sitting there.
“No.” The word merely squeaked from Benjamin’s lips.
“Well, then, I am quite all right. I do appreciate your concern.”
She smiled, and that single gesture seemed to shake Benjamin from his numb shock. Though her lips merely twitched, it appeared to Benjamin to be the wanton grin of a temptress. And he realized that he was alone with her in the darkened hold of the ship, fair game for her dastardly designs.
“You . . . you should be ashamed!” he sputtered, then spun around and fled from the place as if running from the very fires of hell.
He did not stop until he was on the upper deck and breathing in the fresh, clean air of the sea.
CHAPTER
12
ELISE WATCHED THE MAN’S RETREAT, momentarily stunned. It took her a full minute before she realized what it was all about. Obviously between the encounter on the dock when he had rescued her from the pickpocket and this moment, he had learned of her nefarious occupation. Naturally, a respectable man would find himself nonplussed to come face-to-face with her kind of woman—not that Elise hadn’t received many seemingly respectable men in her quarters in the last month.
But this particular man was probably truly respectable. He no doubt had never laid eyes upon a “fallen woman” before this moment. The idea of a man of his maturity exhibiting such innocence made her want to laugh
and cry all at once. In a mere month she had almost forgotten such innocence existed. She had certainly forgotten her own. Survival meant constructing hardened walls about herself and eschewing memories of who and what she once had been. She was fallen. She was a woman from whom decent folk should flee.
Forcing these thoughts from her mind, Elise returned her attention to the task that had drawn her to the cargo hold of the ship. She was determined to have a look at the parcel she had seen carried aboard, which she was almost certain contained the portrait of her mother. Though Maurice’s lawyer had brought the portrait to the Hearne plantation when he had come for Elise, she had not been given a chance to view it. After arriving in New Orleans, she had taken several opportunities to search about the hotel for it, but unsuccessfully. Perhaps it was silly to think Maurice would carry the painting with him in his flight from New Orleans, especially in view of the fact that he had not exhibited it to the public at the hotel. But Elise was determined to find it.
Unfortunately, her quest was still unsuccessful. A crate had nearly fallen upon her head as she rooted about the cargo. She had avoided a serious mishap, but her shoulder still hurt where the crate had struck her. It must have been that which had alerted the man to her presence.
It occurred to her that he might tell the captain of her invasion of this part of the ship, obviously an off limits area to passengers. Well, what could they do to her? Put her off the ship? Then she thought of Hannah and realized afresh that her enemies, whoever they might be, would always have leverage over her.
Well, she was having no luck finding the painting anyway. It was probably stowed in some far corner and buried beneath other baggage. Perhaps she would just boldly ask Maurry to see it after they arrived in Texas.
She exited the cargo area and climbed the companionway up to the next deck where the cabins were located. Maurry had been able to afford only three cabins. One for himself and Saul, his butler, and two others in which his six girls and the two maids were evenly divided. With four women in one tiny cabin, it was cramped, to say the least. The fact that three of those women were suffering terrible seasickness made it worse. The odor in the room was foul and nearly did to Elise what the sea had been unable to do—turn her stomach.
As she approached the cabin, she could hear Hannah crying. She hurried down the corridor and stepped inside. Elise’s three roommates were sprawled on their beds, oblivious to the crying child. Elise picked up Hannah.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she cooed, kissing the baby’s downy soft hair. She noted absently that the child’s hair was a medium brown, very much like her father’s. Hannah could pass for white with even less difficulty than Elise.
Hannah was becoming quite a fussy child, but certainly not without cause. The last month had been extremely traumatic for the now four-month-old baby. Elise simply could not be the attentive mother she had once been. She could no longer even suckle the child. At least the nurse was a kindly woman who, having lost her baby within hours of its birth, was happy to have another child to fill her own void.
Still, Elise supposed she might, in a small sense, be withdrawing from her daughter. Maybe both of them would be better off if she didn’t care so intensely for the child. Elise knew it was flawed reasoning, yet she feared it might still be so. And not once, but several times, Elise had entertained the idea of sneaking the baby out and abandoning her on the steps of some church. Surely Hannah would find a better life that way than in a brothel. But Elise could not let herself do it. It was pure selfishness, she knew, but she had lost so much in the last weeks that she could not bear to lose her daughter as well. She was almost glad that when they arrived in Texas the prospects of abandoning Hannah would be pretty slim. There were too few women in that country to entrust her daughter to.
Elise closely observed Hannah and could tell it was not merely fussiness that was causing her to cry. Laying her cheek against the child’s head, she felt Hannah’s skin and found it to be much warmer than normal. The child was also flushed, and her breathing, despite the crying, was rough.
Elise tried to wake Fannie, the nurse, but the young woman just moaned and begged to be left to die. One thing Elise had learned about the nurse was that the woman knew less about the care of children than did Elise—and Elise knew precious little. She could not expect the nurse to be of much use.
Over the next three hours, Hannah grew worse, and Elise’s panic rose. She tried to think back to the plantation and things she had heard about caring for sick children. One of Kendell’s sisters had spoken of her child once having croup. The symptoms were similar. But for the life of her, Elise could not recall what had been done for her nephew. He had survived the illness but had been sick for a long time.
When Hannah’s breathing became so labored that her lips actually turned bluish, Elise left the cabin, clutching Hannah to her breast. Perhaps there was a doctor aboard. First she went to Maurice’s cabin. Any doctor or crew member would be more likely to assist her if the request came from Thomson rather than a mere slave. But Maurice was also prostrate with seasickness and none too civil.
“That brat’s more trouble than she’s worth!” His words were accompanied by a stream of curses. “Get that cryin’ little chit outta here before I toss her into the cursed sea!”
Elise went to Mae’s cabin. A couple of the girls there were well but had no idea what to do. Mae was feeling poorly but told her to leave the child with her and try to seek the help of the captain.
Captain Wakefield received Elise in his cabin. Though he must have known of her position as a slave if not a woman of ill repute, he was very polite and understanding.
“I’m afraid I have no medical personnel aboard.” He rubbed his hand over his graying whiskers. “My first mate has some medical knowledge, but I know for a fact that he has no experience with children. I suppose that would be better than nothing—” He stopped short, and a light brightened his expression. “There is a woman aboard with three children. Perhaps she might know what to do.”
“Who is it? I’ll speak to her.”
But the captain hesitated, seemingly flustered. “Well . . . I . . . uh . . . that might not be . . . you see, she is a minister’s wife.”
Ah yes. Again, Elise had forgotten who she was and the great impropriety it would be for a genteel woman to associate with her. But she wasn’t about to back down, not when Hannah’s life was at risk. She had already sacrificed much for the sake of this child.
“Captain Wakefield, could you speak to this woman? Perhaps she will relay any information she might have through you.”
“That’s an excellent idea! I’ll do that very thing. You go wait in your cabin, and I will be there directly.”
Rebekah opened her cabin door to find Captain Wakefield standing before her.
“Good evening, ma’am.” He was a soft-spoken man with a gentleness about him one did not expect from a sea captain.
“Good evening, Captain. I’m afraid my husband is not here.” She could think of no other reason for this man’s visit. Benjamin was off somewhere at his evening prayers.
“Actually, ma’am, it is you I wish to see.” He quickly and somewhat awkwardly explained his mission. “The young woman feels she is too far beneath your station to expect you to come to her, but I will gladly impart to her any wisdom you might have.”
“Well, that’s nonsense, Captain. I see no reason why I shouldn’t go to her.”
“Ah . . . it’s just that . . . well . . . your husband might not approve.”
Rebekah knew her husband had many quirks, but snobbery wasn’t one of them. He had often visited the poor in their Boston neighborhood and ministered to them.
“I’m sure you are wrong. My husband has encouraged me to serve the poor.”
“It’s more than that, ma’am. I mean, there’s more to it, but it just isn’t proper for me to say more.”
“Captain, you are not making sense. And as we stand here mincing words, a child lies ill. My husband i
sn’t here, so I must make the judgment. And I say I need to see this child for myself before I can help it. Now please wait a moment while I gather up a few things.”
Before the captain had arrived, Rebekah had been feeling sick herself with a queasy stomach from the rock of the boat, but suddenly she forgot about that. She had always been a person eager to serve others, but more than that, it was exhilarating to make her own judgment in this particular matter without having to seek her husband’s wisdom.
“Micah,” she said as she gathered a few items into a satchel, “please mind your sisters while I go on an errand.”
Feeling a lightness in her step she had not felt in weeks, Rebekah followed the captain down the corridor.
CHAPTER
13
REBEKAH WAS SHOCKED TO FIND four women sharing a tiny cabin half again as small as the one she shared with her family. It was stuffy inside and reeking with the stench of seasickness. Had Rebekah not been so intent upon her mission, she might have wondered at the peculiarity of four women, two obviously women of color, traveling together.
But upon entering the cabin, the crying baby immediately absorbed her attention. It was all the more pathetic in that the poor child was having quite a difficult time breathing. The young woman holding the baby was in nearly as much distress.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “But you didn’t have to come here. . . .”
“Nonsense.” Rebekah laid her hand on the infant’s forehead. “How could I know what to do for the baby without seeing it? Is your baby a girl or a boy? I hate to keep referring to it as it.”
“A girl. Her name is Hannah. I’m Liz.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Rebekah Sinclair. Now, let’s see what we can do for little Hannah. She seems to have a bit of a fever, but her breathing concerns me most.” She set her satchel on a table, then looked about the cabin. “Do you have a kettle?”
