by Chloe Carley
Chapter Seven
Noah crept toward the wolfhound, carrying a strip of dried meat to lure it away. The beast eyed him warily. Noah could not blame the poor thing. Undoubtedly, it had received nothing but harsh words and cruel treatment its entire life.
“Come on now, I won’t cause you any harm,” Noah promised, turning back for a moment. At the top of the gangway, providing no help whatsoever, was Miss Rachel Faulks. She seemed to be in better spirits, a flush of color coming back to her pallid cheeks. Why he had agreed to aid in her latest whim, he wasn’t sure. There was something about the way she had asked without selfish intent. Her sole concern had been for the dog. She did not want it as just a pet but because it would save the creature from a short life of continued misery. How could he have refused her?
The dog ambled forward and paused in front of Noah. Nervously, it reached it’s long neck out to snap at the strip of meat. From where Noah was crouched, he could see that the beast’s entire body was trembling in fear. Did the poor creature think this was its last meal?
“Come on, I won’t hurt you,” he assured as the dog took another shaky step forward.
Seizing the moment, Noah lunged forward and threw his arms around the neck of the creature. It yelped and tried to run, but Noah clung on tightly. Despite the scrawny state of the dog, it put up a good fight. The sheer size of the creature made keeping hold difficult for the hound appeared to be made of pure sinew, muscle, and bone. Plus, it thought its life was at stake; the world’s most powerful motivator.
A few of the nearby tradesmen gave Noah funny looks as he continued to wrestle with the dog, but he ignored them as he struggled to calm the creature down. There was no way it would have come up the gangway willingly. This was the only way to secure its safety—a moment of discomfort for a lifetime at Rachel’s side.
Truly, you don’t know how lucky you are, he thought, as he wrangled with the matted creature. It whined and barked in displeasure, but it made no attempt to bite him or snap at his face. Instead, it looked up at him with it’s sad brown eyes, as though pleading to be released.
“You’re going to have a glorious life,” Noah said, relaxing his body slightly. This time, the dog made no attempt to run. It settled down and sat between his legs, turning its face toward his, licking at the beads of perspiration that trickled down his face. Noah laughed and ruffled the beast’s fur, scratching behind its ears the way he’d done with his own dog many years ago. “See, there was nothing to be afraid of.” He fed the dog a few torn-off chunks of the dried meat before slipping a looped rope around its proud neck.
Standing up and dusting off the worst of the wharf grime that had streaked across his uniform in the canine brawl, he headed back towards the ship. The dog followed, trotting happily at his side. It eyed Noah’s hand eagerly, licking it’s lips for another taste of the dried meat.
“You’ll have everything you could possibly want when we get on-board,” Noah assured. The dog sneezed as if in understanding.
“Oh, Mr. Sharpleton, how heroic you were,” Rachel cried as man and dog returned to the main deck where she stood waiting. “There was one moment where I thought you might lose him and he was yelping so horrifically, but then he calmed and everything was well again. You were so brave. Truly, I have never seen courage like it.”
Noah smiled. “It is a mere dog, Miss Faulks. There is little to be afraid of.”
She looked crestfallen.
“That is not to say that there are no dangers involved for strays are known to snarl and bite and there can be some risk of infection,” he added quickly, feeling a twist of guilt in his stomach. He had not meant to dismiss her so abruptly. “And so, I thank you for your kind words. Indeed, it was my pleasure to fetch the creature for you, for I believe it shall be gifted with a rather wonderful life now that it is in your care.”
A shy flush dusted her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Sharpleton. Tell me, do you know if it is a male or a female?”
“I believe you have a young lady on your hands,” he replied, after circling the dog once.
Rachel positively beamed with joy. “Then I shall name her Dandelion.”
“Dandy might be pleasant, for short?”
“Oh no, I do not believe in nicknames. They are so coarse and common,” she retorted, reminding Noah of her upbringing in a single sentence. Try as he might, he could not get past his initial feelings toward her. Glimmers of a more grounded individual peeked through every now and again, but then she said something in that haughty tone and he found himself back at the beginning once more.
He cleared his throat. “Well, if you are satisfied with your new pet, I will go and arrange for tea things to be brought to your private deck. Nan could do with some fresh air too, I imagine.”
“Might you send for Doctor Bentham?”
“The ship’s physician? Why, are you feeling unwell again?”
She shook her head. “I wish him to look over Dandelion. Might you ask him to bring scissors, too, so we might trim the matts away?”
“Of course, Miss Faulks.” He walked away without another word before his detachment could start to eke through again. After all, he had been charged with taking care of Rachel and Nan. Even if they did not see eye-to-eye, he could not alter the facts. And so, he was going to have to figure out a way to be perpetually civil toward her, even if it took every ounce of willpower he had. At least Nan was no trouble.
***
Noah whirled around and tore out of the galley kitchens leaving the fine china cups and teapot in a jumble on their silver tray. A blood-chilling scream of terror rippled below decks, his ears pricked up to pick out the sound’s origin. A series of sharp barks followed. With his heart pounding in his chest, he sprinted along the narrow corridors, taking the sharp bends at full-speed until he reached the shady recess behind the main stairwell. Rachel cowered in the darkness there with Dandelion standing in front of her. The beast snapped her jaws at a hunched figure who stood with his back to Noah.
“Come on out, little girl. I won’t do you no harm,” the man purred. “Just calm your mangy guard-dog down and we’ll talk about this like sensible individuals. See if we can’t come to some sort of arrangement.”
“And what kind of arrangement did you have in mind, Garrick?” Noah’s voice cut through the stagnant air, each word laced with warning.
Garrick turned around slowly, lifting his hands in a wry surrender. Although Noah had been promised the job, the role of first-mate had actually fallen to Garrick. a tall, thick-set man of two-and-forty with a ruddy complexion, shot through with thread-veins from years of seeking solace in the bottom of a brandy bottle. His black eyes glittered with malevolence while a cold smile turned up the corners of his scar-crossed lips. Noah had sailed with Garrick before and had never liked the man. At every port, he disappeared in a haze of booze and women. He was not alone in his licentious behavior, but he had a foul temper that others lacked; a violent streak that often got him into trouble.
“Ah, I see the young lady has two guard-dogs,” Garrick mused coldly.
“Step away from her, Garrick. The captain would not be happy if anything were to happen to her.”
“I had nothing in mind, Noah,” Garrick replied. “I merely wished to speak with the young lady when she decided to launch her fleabag at me.”
“You know what they say about dogs, don’t you?”
Garrick smirked. “No, what do they say?”
“They can sense a bad egg from a mile away.”
“I meant no harm, Noah. If you decide to run off to Benjamin and tell him about this, I will know it was you who squealed,” he warned. “I only wanted to acquaint myself with her.”
“As you can see, the young lady doesn’t want to acquaint herself with you. Moreover, do you really think a stairwell is the most appropriate place to conduct your niceties? It is improper and you know it. Do not test the boundaries of my patience or Miss Faulks’ patience again or I shall be forced to inform the captain.
”
Garrick snorted. “Well, if she does not want to associate with the rest of the crew, I suggest she keeps to her quarters. That way there can be no doubt as to anyone’s intentions, can there?”
“Return to what you were doing. I shall see to Miss Faulks,” Noah insisted.
“Very well.” Garrick flashed an icy smirk at Rachel before stomping back up the stairwell and disappearing above deck. Noah listened to his boots thudding across the planks overhead, waiting until they were suitably distant before moving to assist Rachel. To his relief, Dandelion sat down on her haunches, her entire demeanor calming in Noah’s presence.
“Miss Faulks, are you well? Has Garrick harmed you in any way?”
Rachel hiccupped as she stared up at Noah with frightened eyes. “He has not physically harmed me, though he attempted to grasp at my wrist. Dandelion prevented him.”
“Well, that is a small mercy. What are you doing down here?” Noah wondered, softening the somewhat harsh edge in his voice.
“When you did not return after ten minutes had gone by, I thought to look for you,” she explained quietly. “The crew were starting to return from shore, and I did not know if you had forgotten Dandelion and I.”
“I had not. I was fixing the tea things as I told you I would.”
“No, you were supposed to be fetching Doctor Bentham.”
“No, I told you I was fixing the tea things so that Nan might enjoy some fresh air, too,” Noah corrected. “Doctor Bentham followed the others into port. He will not be back until everyone else has returned.”
“Oh…”
“And you are certain he did not harm you?” Noah glanced down at her exposed wrist, trying to discover any hint of Garrick’s touch upon her. He did not care for the young lady much, but that didn’t mean he wished any harm to come to her. In truth, there were moments where he thought her rather pleasant, though they were few and far between. Undoubtedly, she thought the same about him.
“He did not, Mr. Sharpleton. I suppose I have you to thank for that, in many ways,” she admitted softly. “Had you not rescued Dandelion, she would not have been here to protect me. And had you not heard my call, you would not have arrived to prevent him from advancing on me.”
“It is my duty, Miss Faulks. I will protect you while you are here on this ship, of that you can be certain.” He did not want to be a hero nor did he want thanks for his actions. He was simply performing his task to the best of his ability as requested by Benjamin. And yet, he could not help but feel his resolve weakening slightly as he noted the relieved expression on her face. All the pomp and grandeur had faded, leaving a shaken young woman who might have come from any walk of life.
She smiled weakly. “I shall go back to my quarters now and await your return.”
“Very good, Miss Faulks.”
Leading Dandelion on the rope that Noah had fashioned, Rachel mounted the stairwell back up to the main deck. Noah watched her leave, admiring the way her gown of coral silk trailed behind her, pooling like a waterfall over each step. Halfway up, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Might you bring the scissors yourself, Mr. Sharpleton? I am eager for Dandelion to look her best.”
Noah nodded. “I will bring them, Miss Faulks.”
“And… thank you again. I know it is your duty, but I thank you for coming to my aid.”
“Of course, Miss Faulks.”
With a nervous smile, she turned and made her way up the last few steps. Noah did not move until she had vanished from sight. Truly, he could not understand the young lady. Just when he thought he could pinpoint her nature, she did something that turned his entire judgement on its head. In that moment when their eyes had met, he had seen the face of a scared young woman with a heart full of gratitude. A very different girl from the one who cast aspersions and judged those who stood below her in society. Indeed, there seemed to be many facets to Miss Faulks and he got the feeling he was only just scratching the surface of her true self.
Chapter Eight
A bitter storm blew in as the Emerald headed away from the Irish coast and moved in the direction of Spain on the third day of their voyage. It was part of Benjamin Frodsham’s grand plan to collect as much cargo as possible, before sailing for American shores. European goods fetched a high price in the Americas with the Spaniards and the French and the British eager for a taste of home. Wherever there was demand, Benjamin swooped in with the produce. He had an almost eerie knack for knowing what would sell long before it came into favor.
Despite the icy rain lashing down on the main deck, Noah stood at the bow and gazed toward the bleak horizon. Clad in an oilskin, he pulled the collar up to his nose until only his eyes were visible. Swollen clouds rolled in like a stampede, their blackened cores holding a belly full of water. Below him, the waves snarled against the sleek curves of the vessel, the sails billowing wildly as the strong winds carried them through the maelstrom. He loved the danger of a storm, especially on the open water.
It was almost ten o’clock in the evening; the hour for Noah’s last rounds as sentinel to Rachel and Nan. Knowing he would soon be able to retreat below deck to join the sailors who weren’t on duty, he turned away from the striking horizon and headed for Rachel’s quarters. Although the wooden planks of the deck were saturated and slippery, his boots held him firmly to the ground. Now and again, he’d hear the thud of someone falling over, but it was par for the course as a sailor on the night-watch. Nobody laughed or made a joke of it anymore, not unless it was a particularly impressive tumble.
Exhaling deeply, Noah knocked on the door to the Empire Suite.
“Mr. Sharpleton?” Rachel’s soft voice called from within.
“Yes, Miss Faulks. I wanted to check on you before I turned in for the night.”
The door opened ajar. “It is ten o’clock already?”
“It is, Miss Faulks.”
“It is awfully blustery outside,” she remarked, peering past Noah’s shoulder.
“Indeed, we are heading through a slight storm. It will pass soon enough.”
“Are we safe?”
Noah smiled. “You are quite safe, Miss Faulks.”
“The vessel will not capsize? Only, I have heard of ships being wrecked off the coast of Cornwall, and we are not far from Cornwall, are we?”
“We have passed Cornwall altogether, Miss Faulks.”
“Oh… and we are headed to Spain?”
“Indeed.”
A curious expression passed across her face. “I have never been to Spain. Have you, Mr. Sharpleton?”
“A few times.”
“Is it pleasant?”
“Exceedingly so,” he replied fondly, remembering the last time. It had been a glorious summer’s day and he had spent an entire afternoon alone in a secluded cove, swimming in the warm sea and basking in the sunlight until his skin had tinged with pink. He had eaten plump olives drenched in oil and garlic, mopped up with the softest, sweetest bread, flavored with rosemary. Salty sardines, fresh from the water, had been roasted on an open fire and served straight from a cart at one of the smaller fishing ports. All of it washed down with a bottle of rich, fruity red wine that had made his head fuzzy and his heart full.
“Help! Someone, help!” a voice ricocheted through the driving rain like a gunshot snapping him out of his wistful reverie. Rachel’s eyes widened in fear as her gaze lifted upwards. Noah whirled around and followed her line of sight right up to the mainmast. Onions dangled from the topsail, his foot caught in a coil of rope.
“Do something!” Rachel urged, her hands clasped in silent prayer.
Noah grasped the edges of his oilskin and threw the coat to the ground, followed by the restrictive jacket of his makeshift uniform. He had no idea why Benjamin insisted they wear the imitation uniforms when they had no relation to the navy whatsoever. The gaudy purple and green only served to draw attention to them whenever they pulled into port. Then again, perhaps that was the purpose.
Freed fro
m the tight restraint of the pseudo-military jacket, he sprinted across the main deck and lunged at the rigging. He caught the wet web of rope in his hands and hauled himself up, clambering with ease and agility. He would have preferred to climb without his boots, so he could feel out the ropes with his bare toes, but time was of the essence. One false move and he knew the rope around Onions’ foot might give way—it was a lethal drop from the topsail to the deck below. He had seen enough men plummet to their death that way.
Keeping one eye on Onions, he grasped for one of the loose ropes that had fallen from the mast above and swung away from the rigging on it. Now, there was nothing between him and the same fate that Onions faced. It was a dangerous move, but it was the quickest way up. With the flailing end wrapped around one thigh, he shuffled skillfully up the single length of rope until he reached the slippery timber of the mast. Pulling himself up, he straddled the solid beam and tied the loose rope around his waist. Feeling more secure, he scooted along the mast toward the spot where Onions dangled.
