Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  He snorted contemptuously. “That’s all you’ll be as Virgil Oates’s wife—his mistress. You won’t have a marriage in the true sense of the word, and you know it.”

  “At least I’ll be his wife. That will give me respectability, security, something I would never have with you.”

  He drew in his breath, then let it out in an annoyed rush. “Women! By any other name, they’re all prostitutes, wanting something from a man, whether it’s money or a husband. I’m not surprised to find that you’re no different.”

  Momentarily she felt a ripple of anger move over her, but refused to let it take hold. Instead she kept her voice calm and even. “Someday you will fall in love, Derek, and then you’ll want to give a woman what Virgil is giving me. Will you consider your wife a prostitute?”

  He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “I’ll never marry, Julie. If I have a wife, it’s the sea. I’ve known plenty of women, but I’ve never thought about marriage.”

  “But have you ever been in love?” she pressed on.

  He looked thoughtful, then shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t guess I have. But then, I have never stayed with the same woman for very long.”

  He lowered those thick, dusty lashes that she found so appealing and gave her a strange, thoughtful look that made her uncomfortable. Scrambling from the bed, she stood barefoot on the rough floor and murmured nervously that he’d best be on his way. “It will be completely light soon. You might be seen leaving. Others will be waking.”

  He continued to stare at her in that puzzled, searching way that made her feel so odd. Finally, almost reluctantly, he got up and began dressing. Julie walked over to the porthole and stared out at the rolling sea. A greenish mist clung to its surface, but she knew that would soon rise, giving way to the usual sparkling, azure waters. She loved the sea and found it strangely mysterious, as though a million secrets lay beneath its depths, forever hidden. She could stand for hours and dream of those secrets, wondering how many before her had done the same.

  Suddenly something caught her eye—an object, far away, as best she could tell; but no, it was close by. The fog played tricks with her sense of distance. She could not make out what it was, but here, this far from land, the only thing it could be was a ship. “Derek,” she whispered, a feeling of undefined terror making her heart beat faster. “Derek…I think there’s a ship out there—”

  “A ship?” he cried, forgetting to keep his voice low, forgetting that her mother slept just across the narrow hallway. He bolted to the porthole and roughly shoved her aside as he squinted to see through the thick mist that still clung to the ocean’s surface. “Where? Show me. You must be seeing things.”

  “There…” She squeezed next to him to point. “Wait a moment, till the fog rises a bit. There. Can you see it now? Doesn’t it look like a ship? What else could it be? Or perhaps it’s land. Maybe it’s Bermuda, and we’re arriving sooner than you thought—”

  He pushed by her to scramble into his trousers, forgetting about his shirt and boots as he hurried toward the door. “Hell, no, that’s not land,” he yelled. “That’s a goddamn ship, and I don’t know what kind of ship…”

  He opened the door and slammed right into his first officer, who had been about to knock.

  “Sir, we’ve been looking for you,” Edsel Garris cried, feeling slightly embarrassed at finding him in Julie’s quarters. “We’ve caught sight of a ship, and it’s too far away to tell what flag she flies. I’ve ordered the men to their battle stations.”

  “Let’s go…” Derek shouted, and the two ran down the hallway as Julie’s mother opened her cabin door. Her sleepy eyes were instantly wide awake, shocked at the sight of the captain coming out of her daughter’s room, his chest and feet bare.

  “What on earth…” she gasped.

  Julie ignored her mother and scurried after Derek, forgetting that she wore only her dressing gown. “Derek, what’s wrong? What’s happening? We’ve passed ships before.”

  He whirled about at the bottom of the steps, his eyes narrowed grimly. “Julie, go to your cabin and stay there. I told you: we don’t know what kind of ship it is. We may be fired on. Federal steamers are in these waters, and if they demand to board, we’d have a hell of a lot of questions to answer. If they find out the Ariane is a blockade runner, then we’re all in danger. Now do as I say. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”

  He saw her mother for the first time. “You too. Get in your cabin and stay there. If you hear any firing, lie down on the floor.”

  Then he disappeared up the steps. Julie turned and hurried back to her cabin, looking about for something to put on. She had no intention of being caught in her nightgown if the Yankees did board.

  Her mother followed her. Instead of being frightened about the possibility that their ship might be attacked, she was overcome with rage because of the implication of Captain Arnhardt being in her daughter’s cabin, especially the way the two had been dressed, and at such an early hour.

  “I demand to know what has been going on here,” she cried. Then she saw Derek’s boots, carelessly tossed on the floor beside the bed, and his shirt lying nearby. In anguish she whispered, “Julie, no. Don’t tell me you and the captain were…” She could not bring herself to speak the actual words.

  Julie felt herself reddening as she groped in her trunk for a dress. What could she say? Denial was futile. Finally she croaked out an apology. “I’m sorry you had to know.”

  “I…I thought you loathed him,” was all her mother could think of to say. “I never dreamed this was going on.”

  Julie finished dressing, then went to where her mother had sunk down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, Julie reached up and clasped her mother’s trembling hands. She attempted to explain herself. “Mother, I did loathe him at first, but he’s so tender and loving. Oh, how can I tell you what’s happened to me? I don’t even understand it myself. I can’t describe it. I know it’s wrong, but I’m helpless.”

  “Dear Lord.” Her mother swayed. “Julie, you aren’t falling in love with him, are you? Oh, please say that you aren’t.”

  It was a long time before Julie could answer. “I haven’t thought about it.” And it was true. She hadn’t, not till now, when her heart began to pound tremulously at the idea. Did she love him? Was that the reason her body could not deny him and came awake so easily beneath his touch?

  No. It wasn’t possible. Especially when he’d made it clear she was merely a woman to take his pleasure with whenever he felt the need. He would never offer her more than the degrading status of being his mistress. He’d certainly given her no hint that she could ever possess his heart. What they shared was passion, lust, pleasure—nothing more. It would be foolish to think their coupling meant anything else.

  Not wanting to discuss it further, Julie got to her feet. “I have to know what’s going on out there.” She ran out of the cabin, down the hall, and scurried up the steps. Her mother called to her frantically to return, warning her there might be danger, but she paid no heed. For not only was she running to find out whether there was going to be an attack, she was also running away from something she was not ready to face or think about.

  The upper deck was in a state of confusion as crewmen scurried about loading guns and stacking ammunition. The air was tense, strained, and no one so much as glanced her way as she moved to where Derek and his three officers stood on the bridge. Derek peered through a long, cylindrical instrument with one eye; his other was squeezed shut. Julie assumed it must be a telescope, though she’d never seen one before.

  He barked with authority to no one in particular, “Tell the firemen to keep stoking the furnaces. We’ve got to move faster. That’s a Yankee ship, and she’s gaining on us. Hell, why didn’t someone spot the bastards before now?”

  “The fog,” Mr. Garris answered nervously. “The watchman sounded the alarm as soon as he spotted it. I roused the crew, but as I told you, sir, when you weren’t in your
cabin, I had to look for you.”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Derek snapped, turning to give him a black look. Then he saw Julie clinging to the railing, her face ashen with fright. “What the hell are you doing up here, woman? I told you to stay below. Watson, get her out of here.”

  Grover Watson clamped a firm hand on her arm, but she pulled away. “No. I’ve a right to know what’s going on.”

  Derek walked over and towered above her, glaring down. “That Yankee cruiser out there is about a mile away, and they’ve spotted us. They’re coming after us at full steam. We have no way of knowing how many guns they’ve got, so we’ve got to try and outrun them. If they capture us, they’re going to find the cotton stashed below and other cargo that will prove we’re a blockade runner. That means we’re captured, Julie. If they decide to capture us, that is. They could just blow us to bits and sink us. So I want you to go below. If shells start flying, I don’t want you hurt.” He sucked in his breath after his verbal explosion.

  Garris had hurried down to the engine room to urge the firemen to stoke faster and thus build up more speed. The other officers, and a man someone called a “pilot,” looked away uncomfortably. They all turned to stare toward the pursuing Yankee steamer.

  Derek reached for Julie’s hand, which was cold and stiff. His eyes searched hers deeply, as though he was trying to convey some silent message, but she could only look up at him in confusion. He said, “Julie, this isn’t the time or the place, but perhaps somehow you’ll understand when I say I care what happens to you. I care! Now please, go below and stay with your mother. I’ll let you know when the danger is past. Be the brave, courageous woman I know you’re capable of being. The time for shriveling, helpless femininity has passed. We’re at war.”

  She turned and fled, hurrying down to her cabin, heart and mind jumbled, dazed. He cared. What did that mean? Did he care about her as a woman, or was it merely concern for a passenger in his charge?

  She did not know, but even with the tension surrounding them, as though the fog itself had crept up to consume them in its midst, Julie had found herself aroused by his closeness, the huskiness of his voice. The strength and power he exuded had made her want to melt into his arms once again, where she knew she would feel comforted and protected.

  Her mother was waiting for her, face white with panic. “Did you find out anything?”

  Julie told her all she knew. There was nothing to do but wait, and while her mother kept stealing curious, probing glances at her, Julie was grateful she asked no more questions about her relationship with Derek.

  Perhaps a half hour passed, though it seemed much longer, before there was a loud pounding on the door. Julie hurried to answer, and found herself facing a crewman she’d never seen before. He was leaning on a crudely fashioned crutch, his leg bandaged in a splint.

  Doffing his cap, he explained that he’d been sent by the captain. “My name’s Duffy, and Captain Arnhardt said I was to come down here and sit with you ladies and try to keep you from gettin’ too upset. I ain’t no good topside nohow, not with this busted leg I got a few days ago when I fell from some riggings.” He smiled nervously.

  Grateful for the company, Julie waved him inside, saying, “Maybe you can tell us what’s happening up there. It’s agony not knowing.”

  He glanced nervously toward the round window. “The Yankees are gaining at a rapid speed. From what I heard some of the men say, they’re bearing down on us with sail and steam, and they’re sailing from the north, so they’re making fast time. We’re almost into the Bay of Bermuda, so we’re actually trapped. It don’t look good. Not at all.”

  They heard the first shot, a whining sound, then an explosion. Julie and her mother screamed in unison, but Julie quickly recovered and cried, “Are we hit?”

  “That one fell short. Now’s the time for us to start firing back.”

  Another shot streaked through the sky. This one, Duffy said, fell about fifty feet short on the starboard side. The third, he figured, went straight over, close to the riggings. “They’re shooting nine-inch shells from a Parrott gun, I’d say. Can’t understand why the captain ain’t shooting back.”

  More explosions, each one seemingly closer than the one before. Suddenly, with a lurch the ship began to slow its forward motion. Duffy swore and yelled, “I can’t believe it. The captain must be hoisting a white flag. He ain’t going to put up a fight.”

  He turned sharply to give Julie an accusing glare, his eyebrows knit tightly together. “There’s a story going around about you and the captain…how you’re sweet on each other. Must be on account o’ you. He’s scairt you’ll get killed.”

  “I’m going up there.” Julie started to rise, but Duffy swiftly swung his crutch in an arc and blocked her path.

  “Naw, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m obeying orders no matter what, so don’t make me crack you ’cross your head, Miss Marshal. You just sit tight.”

  He continued to hold the crutch across her bosom, and from the look on his face, she knew he would strike her if she attempted to move. She could do nothing but sit down and wait, praying that by some miracle, they had not been captured.

  There was the sound of hurried footsteps. As three pairs of frightened, anxious eyes turned toward the door, it swung open and Edsel Garris stood there, the hand twisted about the knob as white as his stricken face. “It’s no use,” he said in a rush. “We were taken by surprise. We couldn’t outrun them, and they had bigger guns.”

  “You mean the captain just…gave up?” Julie blinked, stunned. As strong mentally as he was physically, Derek seemed like the type of man who would never back off from a fight.

  “You haven’t seen the size of that ship bearing down on us, Miss Marshal. We wouldn’t have had a chance. The Ariane isn’t a war ship. We’ve always been successful at navigating and slipping in and out of blockaded ports. We’ve always been able to outrun a suspicious ship at sea. This time, luck wasn’t with us. We’re better off taking our chances and letting them pull alongside and board. Maybe we can convince them we’re merely a merchant ship. The men are dismantling the guns.”

  Duffy shifted his weight to his crutch and struggled to stand. He was beyond caring at the moment that he was out of line in arguing with his commanding officer. “You don’t think they’ll search this damned ship? They’ll find the guns and the cargo.”

  Garris withered him with a look. “That’s a decision for the captain to make, not you. He’s in command. You just stay here and keep the ladies here. There may be trouble if the captain doesn’t like the way things are going once the Yankees come on board.”

  He stepped back into the hall and Julie tried to rise, but instantly felt the pressure of Duffy’s crutch. “Please,” she called out desperately. “I must speak with you privately.”

  Frowning, Garris nodded to Duffy, who reluctantly allowed her to hurry outside. When the door closed behind them, she whispered anxiously, “It’s because of us, isn’t it? I mean, is the captain giving up because he’s afraid my mother and me would be hurt if there’s a battle?”

  Edsel Garris’s smile was mocking. “Miss Marshal, when it comes to saving the Ariane, the captain wouldn’t care if his own mother were on board. He’s doing what he thinks is best for his ship. It has nothing to do with you, however close the two of you may have become in recent nights…” His voice trailed off meaningfully, and she was aware of the shadow of contempt that flashed across his face.

  Duffy quickly slammed and locked the door when Julie was back inside the cabin. Her mother gasped as he pulled a pistol from inside his shirt. “Just relax,” he snapped. “The captain told me to take care of you two, and if any Yankees come nosing around, I’ll be ready.”

  He tucked the gun in his belt and hobbled over to a position where he could stand facing the door. Then he motioned for them to get up on the bed together, out of the line of fire.

  The moments ticked by with agonizing slowness. They could hear distant voices
, angry words, shouting. Then there was a shot, and another, and both Julie and her mother covered their ears as the sound of gunfire split the air and all hell seemed to be exploding above them.

  There was nothing they could do but wait…trembling in terror as Duffy kept his eyes and gun trained directly upon the closed door.

  After what seemed an eternity, heavy footsteps could be heard thudding downward. Julie and her mother clung together as they heard the doors being opened and closed up and down the hall.

  “No one here,” a man’s voice snarled. “That man in chains said there were female passengers on board. They’re bound to be in one of these cabins.”

  They watched as the doorknob turned slowly. A man in a dark blue uniform seemed to fill the doorway. Julie glimpsed his startled eyes for only a fraction of a second before Duffy fired his gun. The man screamed, clutched his stomach, and fell forward as blood poured between his fingers.

  Another uniformed figure moved quickly to return the fire and Duffy slumped to the floor, his face blown away.

  Julie’s mother fainted, but her own terror was replaced by outrage. “You…you damned Yankee!” she screamed, struggling to push her mother’s limp body away from her and scramble toward Duffy’s gun upon the floor.

  The man flung her backwards and pointed his still-smoking gun at her. “Don’t try nothing, lady. I’d just as soon shoot you if I have to.”

  He stared at the body of his dead comrade, then walked over to where Duffy lay and turned him over on his back by kicking at him with his booted foot. Satisfied that the sailor was dead, he reached down and picked up his gun, stuck it inside the waist of his pants, then turned to give Julie a snaggle-toothed grin.

  “Looks like you two wasted a whole lot of time and money getting your cotton through the blockade. We’re confiscating the entire cargo.”