by Chloe Carley
Noah breathed a strange sigh of relief. He despised Garrick for what he had attempted to do, in scaring and cornering Miss Faulks, but executions always left a bitter taste in his mouth. An eye for an eye settled nothing, it only encouraged further violence. And he had never been one for conflict.
“So… where is he?”
“Being dealt with, as I have said,” Benjamin replied curtly. “Actually, now that I have you here, I would ask that you do not mention the events that took place last night. The matter is concluded as far as I am concerned. This must not go beyond the involved parties, is that clear?”
Noah nodded. “Yes, captain.”
“In addition, I must insist that you keep the cargo on a much tighter rein going forward. I cannot risk another incident like last night, as I will not be able to show leniency again. If I am forced to lose a crew member, the cost of him shall come out of your wages.”
“I will not let her stray from my sight,” Noah promised. He meant it, though not because Benjamin had asked it of him. Miss Faulks’ terrified face had ignited something within him; an increased desire to keep her from trouble. The Emerald was not a safe environment for a young lady of her beauty and breeding—last night had highlighted the fact in a deeply unsettling manner. Lifting his face to the warming sun, he made a silent oath do all he could to keep her from harm, for as long as it was his duty to do so.
“Good. Make sure you don’t,” Benjamin said sternly. “If we arrive in America and she is not in precisely the condition that she boarded this ship in, there shall be hell to pay. At least Garrick will not attempt to harass her again. I believe he has learnt his lesson.” A cold grin turned up the corners of the captain’s mouth, a steely glint flashing in his eyes.
“Which port is next on our agenda, captain?”
“Morocco. I have some herbs and spices to collect—a special request from a rather generous Colonel in the British Army.”
Noah nodded. “Very good, captain.”
With that, he turned and made his way toward the Empire Suite. A vision prompted him to stop in his tracks. Rachel stood on the private upper deck, belonging to the suite and its inhabitants with her back turned. Her long, dark hair whipped up around her whilst her gown of copper silk flowed out behind her like molten metal. He had not expected her to be awake so early, especially not after the trauma of the previous evening.
Keeping her in his sights, he walked up the carved staircase to join her against the bulwark. She barely acknowledged his presence, her eyes fixed on the retreating horizon. They looked red-rimmed, faint threads of crimson running through the whites while dark crescents ringed her undereye. Despite the bright fabric of her gown, everything else about her seemed pale and wan. Even her pretty features seemed drained of color as though something had come in the night and stolen it away.
“Good morning, Miss Faulks,” he said, his tone gentle. He did not wish to frighten her away.
“Good morning, Mr. Sharpleton,” she replied stiffly.
“I thought I would come to see how you are. Is there anything I can acquire for you—within the ship’s limitations, of course?”
She shook her head slowly. “I do not require anything,” she said, pausing for a moment. “Although, I suppose some tea would be rather pleasant. I did not sleep much, you see. Something warming may help me to drift off.”
“I can arrange for tea to be brought to your chambers.”
“That would be most kind of you,” she murmured. “Captain Frodsham has a rather unusual sense of justice, does he not?” The question took him by surprise.
“What makes you say that, Miss Faulks?”
She leaned slightly over the bulwark and pointed down toward something in the shadow of the ship. Noah leaned with her, following her line of sight. At first, he could not make out what it was. Only when the ship hit a particularly volatile wave, the vessel rising up and falling down again, moving with the flow of the water, did he realize what he was seeing.
Garrick dangled from two ropes that had been lashed to the lower balcony, just before the ship’s contours curved inward. Half of his body sagged into the water while the rest dripped with the aftermath of every undulating wave. No matter how high he lifted his head, he couldn’t escape the onslaught. From the looks of him, he was too weary to fight back anymore, his chin drooping onto his chest, his hands floppy.
“Ah…”
She sighed anxiously. “A cruel punishment, even for a man such as him.”
“I believe it is designed to teach him a lesson, Miss Faulks. Indeed, this is rather more favorable than the alternative.”
She glanced at him sharply. “Alternative?”
“Death, Miss Faulks.”
“The captain would have had him killed?” She gaped in horror.
“If he thought the crime deserved it, I believe so,” Noah replied. “You must view vessels as you would countries. The laws and rules are made by the captain and the crew obey. If they step out of line, their fate rests with the captain of the ship. Sometimes, these captains are kind and benevolent leaders who think a spell in the brig is punishment enough. Other times, you may find that they are fierce tyrants, dispensing swift, and often brutal, justice.”
Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “I would have thought Captain Frodsham to be the former. He has always appeared so pleasant and charming.”
“The kind and benevolent ones are usually the leaders who end up being mutinied against,” Noah warned. “Swift and brutal justice may not seem like the preferable arrangement, but it has its benefits. If one man is made an example of, the entire crew can be brought to heel, without a single one daring to do anything untoward after the fact.”
“Nobody knows of last night, do they?” Her tone carried a waver of panic.
“They do not and we have sworn to keep it that way,” he promised. “News of Garrick’s punishment shall spread through the ship, but the men shall never know the true cause. The captain will see to that.”
She sighed, exhaling a shaky breath. “I suppose that is good news.”
“It is, Miss Faulks.”
“And Garrick?”
“The captain shall have him taken down some time this afternoon, I imagine.”
She took one last look. “Is it peculiar that I almost feel sympathy for him?”
“No, I do not believe so,” Noah replied, after a moment’s thought. “Indeed, I think it shows that you have a compassionate heart. Although, I already knew that.”
“You did?” She arched an eyebrow at him, a strange flicker of uncertain emotion sparkling in her dark eyes. He did not know what to make of it, but the way she was looking at him made him feel suddenly nervous.
He cleared his throat, regaining composure. “I did, Miss Faulks. It takes a truly compassionate soul to rescue a stray dog and strive to save the life of an injured bird. Most people would have left Peridot and Dandelion to die, but you refused. That sets you apart, revealing a rich vein of empathy that is not common to find.”
“All of God’s creatures deserve to live,” she murmured. “Not a single man or beast can be beyond redemption.”
He tried hard not to stare at her. How can this be the same young lady who howled and screamed at the indignity of being helped on-board? How can this be the same young lady, formerly riddled with her prejudices and outlandish judgements upon the lower classes? He could hardly believe that she was the same person. Indeed, he wondered if she had been replaced with a changeling as she slept.
You continue to surprise me, Miss Faulks. He did not say so aloud, for he could not find the words.
Chapter Thirteen
Some days later, the Emerald drew into the harbor of Tarfaya, on the southwestern coast of Morocco. The majestic peaks of the Atlas Mountains could just be seen in the distance kissing the cloudless sky while a beating sun glared down upon the vessel. The searing heat tinged the sailors’ skin with a blush of pink as they clambered up and down the rigging, coiling ropes and c
oaxing the ship to their instruction. Some fashioned caps to cover their faces while others basked in it, their weathered bodies turning a faint shade of mahogany, white lines crinkling around their eyes, where the sun could not reach.
Rachel stood in front of her chamber window, admiring the exotic landscape. She had never seen anything quite like it. Beyond the whitewashed buildings of the port, there seemed to be nothing but desert leading up to the hazy mountain range. Already, she could feel the dry heat drifting in through the open door. Turning to her looking-glass, she fixed the peak of her wide-brimmed, straw hat and adjusted the collar of her pale, cotton gown of duck-egg blue.
“Beautiful,” Nan murmured, admiring Rachel’s reflection.
Rachel smiled, quashing the nerves that threatened to spill over. She had remained in the suite since her altercation with Garrick, not daring to set foot outside. Now, however, she could not resist. She would not remain onboard and risk losing the opportunity to see such a rare and wonderful land.
Dandelion padded through to the bedchamber and nuzzled at Rachel’s hand, Peridot nestled in the wiry fur between the dog’s shoulder-blades. Rachel had fretted over the two creatures becoming mortal enemies, but she needn’t have worried. Dandelion had taken to the tiny bird as if they belonged to the same species.
“Can I assist you with anything?” she asked, turning to Nan.
The old woman chuckled. “A constant fan would be a grand thing, but I doubt we’ll have the luxury of keeping cool. I’ll melt into a puddle before long, you just wait and see. I’ve never known heat like it!”
“It is rather warm,” Rachel conceded. “Shall we venture out together?”
“Aye, Miss Faulks. No time like the present.” Grabbing her own straw hat, Nan fixed it on top of her head and led the way out of the Empire Suite.
Noah waited for them just beyond the door, a kindly smile upon his face. He had waited upon their every need, calling upon them at all hours of the day in order to ensure their safety. Indeed, she had grown rather accustomed to his presence, and the sense of security that he provided. He was not like the other men aboard this ship and for that, she remained eminently grateful.
“Would you care to wander around Tarfaya for a while, Miss Faulks?” he asked, gesturing towards the sleepy port. It hardly seemed like a bustling metropolis of trade and commerce. The harbor was small, barely accommodating the size of the Emerald while their presence had already drawn some interest. Locals gathered around the end of the wharf awaiting the sailors who cared to disembark.
Seeing them, Rachel felt a shudder of anxiety. Perhaps, I could miss out on one port. Nobody would blame me for it in this awful heat.
She hesitated. “I… Is it safe, Mr. Sharpleton?”
“Quite safe,” he assured. “I shall be with you every step of the way. Indeed, the locals here are extremely friendly and I am certain you will find them to be pleasant.”
“Then, I would very much like to discover its hidden treasures,” she replied, forcing confidence into her voice. She did not wish Noah to know that she was frightened for he already seemed concerned enough about her welfare. A notion that surprised her somewhat, given their initially restrained relationship.
He looked handsome in a flowing white shirt and a simple, brown cotton waistcoat with a sword slung across his body, the sheath balancing against the right-leg of his cream trousers. Going the other way across his chest, he wore a pale canvas bag, which appeared to be empty. She did not think it entirely proper that he should disembark without a jacket, but she did not say so out loud. Besides, it was sweltering and she had a feeling her thoughts stemmed from a certain envy. Deep down, she wished she had the ability to remove her layers, too and walk about the port in something less heavy. The cotton gown was not particularly constrictive, but she sensed the tiers of petticoats, corset, and bloomers beneath were going to be a problem.
Rachel and Nan followed Noah down the gangway, moving at a leisurely pace down the vacant wharf. Upon reaching the group of locals with their smooth, bronzed skin and rich, dark hair, her heart swelled unexpectedly. They smiled up at her in wonder, offering baskets of vibrant fruit and beaded jewelry while one young lady bowed her head and held out a scarf of fuchsia silk. It was the most beautiful piece of fabric that Rachel had ever seen, embroidered with golden flowers and silvery veins and embellished with fluffy tassels and ochre beads.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the gifts. “Thank you. This is terribly kind.”
Noah spoke to them in a fast, exotic language she did not recognize, prompting their smiles to widen. A few of the men clapped him on the back and laughed heartily. Rachel did not know what he had said, but it appeared to be very amusing.
“Here, take a bite of this,” he urged, handing her a plump, purple fruit with reddish veins and faint spots across the surface. Bulbous at the bottom, it curved to a thick stalk.
She took it from him and turned it over in her hands, much to the hilarity of the locals. “What is it?”
“A fig.” He handed Nan one, too.
Cautiously, Rachel lifted it to her lips and took a bite of the swollen fruit. Her eyes widened in surprise as the sweet, honeyed taste filled her mouth—earthy and sugary, all at once. From within, where strange fronds gathered in a sticky mass, a pale red syrup trickled out. As it spilled across her hands, almost ruining her silk gloves, she ducked to take another bite. As it turned out, figs were delicious.
“I could eat a dozen of those and never need a sprinkle of sugar again,” Nan cried delightedly, finishing off the rest of hers.
Noah smiled. “You might like these, too.” From a small, carved wooden box that had been elegantly embossed with golden patterns which twirled and whorled across the varnished surface, he took out two shiny brown things, barely longer than his thumb. He handed one to Nan and one to Rachel. “They are Medjool dates—be careful of the stone in the middle,” he added, taking one for himself.
Rachel bit into the side, her teeth grazing the solid pip in the center. The flesh surrounding it was soft and sticky, the taste saccharine and delicious, reminding her of treacle and the sugared currants in a sponge pudding. Noah spoke again to the gathered congregation, accepting the gifts and placing them into the canvas sack that he had slung across his other shoulder. Ah, so that is what the bag is for.
As soon as they had gathered their treasures together, they moved past the cheerful group of locals and headed into the port itself. Rachel admired the way the sunlight glanced off the crisp, white walls, making them gleam in the most enticing manner. The interiors appeared to be shady and cool, with families lingering within, their chatter flowing out onto the street in a comforting cacophony of daily life.
“Is it correct to accept so many gifts?” she wondered aloud.
Noah nodded. “They would find it rude if we did not.”
“Well, that was wonderfully kind of them to welcome us like that,” she replied. “Might I ask what language you were speaking?”
“Arabic.”
“It is so very melodic,” she marveled. “It almost puts our fair English tongue to shame.”
“There is a music to it, Miss Faulks, I quite agree. I do not profess to be particularly well-versed in the language, but I know enough to make polite conversation. I thanked them on all of our behalves, for the generous gifts, and told them how wonderful it was to be in their fine country.”
“How utterly charming.”
Nan nodded effusively. “And them figs were the tastiest things I ever did eat. I’ll have to watch how many of them dates I nibble on too, else I’ll be arriving in America the size of a prize heifer.”
Noah chuckled. “You eat as many as your heart desires, Nan. There’s not a scrap of meat on your bones as it is.”
“You’re too kind,” she giggled girlishly, licking the syrupy remains from her fingers.
A layer of red dust covered every path as the trio walked through the small port, taking in the new surroundings. No
matter where they went, the heat followed them. Rachel could not escape it, beads of perspiration gathered at her temples and trickled down her face. Taking out her fan, she spread it wide and flapped it wildly, trying in vain to waft away the impossible warmth.
How can it be making me hotter? This is intolerable. As beautiful as the port was, she could not stand another moment in the searing sunshine. The fabric of her gown clung in the most uncomfortable way, a sheen of sweat slicking every inch of her body. Even Noah did not appear immune to the molten warmth, his shirt sticking to him while perspiration glistened all across his red-cheeked face.
She was about to ask if they might return to the ship without delay when a wrenching sight silenced the complaint. A short distance away, settled on a gentle slope of scorched land that led up to the desert terrain beyond, she spotted a cart. Cages of all shapes and sizes dangled from poles while larger enclosures stood on the cart’s surface. There were more clustered around the base of the wagon, some sheltered from the sun by a flapping canopy, while others were not. Even from this distance, she could hear the panicked song of trapped birds.
