by Chloe Carley
He grimaced. “Take Dandelion and do not stop for anyone or anything.”
“I swear I shan’t.” Whirling around, she whistled for Dandelion to follow her as she tore out of the Empire Suite. Racing down the stairs two at a time, she hurtled down into the lower deck, running for her life along the hallway. She did not stop until she reached the chambers of Doctor Bentham who had long retired for the evening.
With her lungs heaving, she battered her fist against the door, listening to the thuds as they reverberated in the room beyond. Beside her, Dandelion barked loudly, somehow sensing the urgency in their endeavor. A minute later, the door opened. Doctor Bentham stood on the threshold, looking entirely unimpressed. He rubbed his blue eyes sleepily, his dark gray hair sticking up in a single quiff, his shirt askew and untucked from the top of his trousers.
“What is the meaning of this racket…” he growled. “Oh, Miss Faulks, my apologies. I did not see you there.” He reached for a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles and set them on the end of his nose.
“Nan is unwell. She urgently requires your assistance.” Rachel pointed up the hallway with her heart hammering in her chest. If anything were to happen to Nan, she did not know what she would do. Despite her former misgivings, Nan had become a dear friend. No part of this voyage would seem right without her.
“Never fear, Miss Faulks, I shall do all I can for her,” Doctor Bentham promised. He grasped for something behind the door and re-emerged with a leather bag in his hand. It looked well-worn, scuffs visible across every inch of the dark-brown fabric.
He took off down the corridor with Rachel in hot pursuit. She ignored the intrigued stares of the sailors who peered from their chamber doors while Dandelion made it her duty to snap at each one: A warning to stay away.
They arrived back at the Empire Suite a few moments later, Doctor Bentham running straight into Nan’s bedchamber. Rachel followed at a slower pace, hardly daring to enter in case she discovered something terrible. I am sorry that I thought you an unsuitable chaperone. I am sorry that I ever thought badly of having you as my companion. You have been the greatest treasure that I have discovered on my travels and… and I do not know what I shall do without you. Please, I beg of you, do not leave me alone on this vessel. Do not leave your son without a mother and father. Please.
Tears filled her eyes as she skirted around the half-open door. Nan lay on the covers of her elegant bed with a compress across her forehead. Noah sat beside her, holding her hand tight while Doctor Bentham moved around to the other side and emptied the contents of his doctor’s bag on the sheets. Even from this distance, Rachel could tell that things were not going well. Nan’s entire body shivered uncontrollably and her eyes rolled back into her head. Wheezing groans rasped from her lungs, matching the stilted rise and fall of her bony chest, every rib visible beneath the thin cotton of her nightgown.
“Oh, Nan…” Rachel whimpered.
“Here, let her hear your voice,” Noah urged. He stood so she might sit.
Rachel sat down on the soft, straw mattress and clutched Nan’s hand tight. It was deathly cold to the touch. “Nan… please survive this,” she begged. “Nan, if you can hear me, you must be strong. You must endure. Your son is out there somewhere and he needs you… I need you. Please, Nan… please survive this.”
“What appears to be the matter with her?” Noah asked, looking to Doctor Bentham.
He dipped his head and pressed his ear to her chest. “Hard to say… it could be pneumonia or a bronchial complaint. There is certainly something amiss in her lungs. Moving so rapidly between temperatures can often have a troubling effect on those of an elderly disposition.”
“She is always shivering and Miss Faulks remarked that she often has coughing fits—might that have anything to do with it?”
“I wonder…” He sifted amongst his items and picked up several glass vials and small metal tins. Plucking up a wooden bowl, he began to mix them together. A heady aroma drifted from the concoction, stinging Rachel’s nostrils. With the poultice mixed, he slathered it liberally across Nan’s chest, maintaining her dignity throughout.
“What is it, doctor?” Rachel asked, gripping Nan’s hand tighter.
“A remedy for easing the flow of air through the lungs,” he explained. “I recommend a bath being drawn for her, too.”
Noah nodded. “I will see to that.” He cast Rachel a reassuring look, pausing for a fleeting moment to touch her shoulder. With that, he disappeared from the room. She could hear the bath being dragged in front of the fire, and the clang of a pot being set to boil.
“Will she live?” Rachel whispered.
The doctor looked at her. “I believe she may have something called emphysema. It is not an illness that anyone may easily recover from, and sufferers often live with it for the rest of their days, but Nan has a fighting spirit. If anyone can pull through this, it is her.”
Rachel wrapped both her hands around Nan’s, willing heat into the ice-cold fingertips. Please live… you have to live. She lifted her eyes skyward. God, if you are listening, please give Nan the strength to survive this affliction. There are so many on this Earth who need her still. I count myself amongst them. Please, I beg of you, let her live.
Nan wheezed out a ragged breath, her eyelids flickering open. “I… am… not done… yet, miss.”
“Stay with us, Nan.”
“Oh… I plan… to.”
***
The following morning, Rachel stirred at Nan’s bedside to find her sitting up. The old woman looked broken and exhausted, but her eyes were open and her breath rasped more easily through her windpipe. A touch of color had returned to her lips, her pallid cheeks bearing the faintest kiss of rose.
“What have they smeared on me, miss?” she asked in a husky whisper.
Rachel smiled. “Something to ease your suffering.”
“Well… it itches something rotten.”
“Shall I have Noah draw you another bath?”
Her rheumy eyes twinkled. “Two baths in as many days. How did I get so lucky?”
“We must take care of you, Nan. You must have all the baths you desire, to cure your affliction.”
“Ah, I’m a tough old boot.” A wave of concern washed over her wrinkled face. “You ought to get some proper rest, miss. Have you been here all night?”
Rachel nodded. “I did not wish to leave you, in case…”
“I’m going nowhere just yet, miss. Not ‘til I’ve seen me son again,” she replied. “Myself and the Lord have got ourselves an agreement. Once I’ve seen me boy, I can die happy.”
“Thank you,” Rachel murmured.
“For what?”
“For staying.”
“I ain’t leaving your side, Miss. Death can try all he likes, I ain’t budging.”
Rachel laughed softly. For now, at least, Nan had returned to her… and she pitied any reaper who might try and take her again.
Chapter Fifteen
On his way back from the Empire Suite, having drawn a saltwater bath for Nan to aid with her respiration, Noah paused at the gunwale and watched land appear in the distance. Pico of Fogo, a huge volcano that rose up from the island terrain, caught his eye. A natural lighthouse of sorts, leading ships safely into harbor. It had erupted almost one-hundred years ago, but there had not been a rumble since. Still, that did not put his mind at ease—dormant did not mean extinct.
It had been two days since Nan’s sickness had taken hold of her and he had almost forgotten that they were due to land in Praia, the capital of Cape Verde. It was not a place he cared to frequent very often, given the kinds of traders that came in and out of port. Slave ships made the journey as often as possible from the west coast of Africa, their lower decks filled to the brim with cramped and desperate men who had been taken from their homes and families. Some vessels stopped there to resupply before continuing on to the Americas while others dropped their human cargo for someone else to pick up. Noah could not understand such
a cruel market. People were not intended to be bought and sold.
Other ships used the port as a supply point, too with the main culprits being the whalers who trawled the Atlantic Ocean seeking out the magnificent beasts who swam below. Whenever they pulled into port, the seagulls followed. The stench of the deck lingered in the air for days afterward where the blubber and meat had been harvested and rendered down to oil for sale on distant shores. On his last outing to the port of Praia, Noah had overheard a group of drunken whalers telling tales of a man being swallowed whole by a blue whale. Nothing seemed to deter them from their task. Indeed, to Noah, they were some of the toughest men out there.
“Where are we venturing to today?” Rachel asked, taking him by surprise. He had been so invested in the distant horizon that he had not noticed her approach.
“Cape Verde,” he replied sternly.
“You do not seem too pleased.”
He shook his head. “I would not advise that you disembark on this particular occasion, Miss Faulks. The men who frequent Praia are not the sort of fellows that I would have you walking amongst. We are not intending to stay there long, but you will be safer on the ship.”
“What makes it so concerning?”
“Pirates often attack and the port we are heading for is populated almost entirely by men,” he explained. “Not just any men—smugglers, blackguards, thieves, unsavory traders… It is a port that one should get in and out of as swiftly as possible.”
Fear flickered in her eyes. “Can it really be so bad, Mr. Sharpleton?”
“I am afraid so, but it is the only supply point between here and the Americas. We are stopping out of necessity and that is all.”
“Nan shall require my care,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “Perhaps, it is for the best that I remain on the ship where I can be close to her.”
Noah smiled. “Agreed, Miss Faulks. How is she faring with her bath?”
“She seems suitably delighted.”
“Good.” He chuckled softly. “And how are you? I am sorry again for the way that I spoke to you the other evening. Had I listened and not been so pigheaded, we might have discovered her sooner.”
Rachel placed her hand beside his on the gunwale, keeping a proper distance. “You did all you could for her. I ought to have checked on her when I first heard her cough,” she replied. “I knew there was something amiss. She was spluttering and gasping, but she told me she felt quite well. I should have listened to my instincts. So, I suppose there is fault in both our actions, but all that matters is that Nan is getting better.”
“Quite right, Miss Faulks.”
Standing side-by-side, they watched Cape Verde draw closer, the distant shadow of the volcano showing the Emerald where to go.
***
“Noah, there you are!” Benjamin called from across the deck.
“Sorry, captain, did you need me for something?” He’d just been to check on Nan and Rachel, to make sure they had everything they needed. They’d locked the door behind him, as per his request, with strict instructions not to unlock it again until the ship left Praia.
Benjamin grinned. That was never a good sign. “As a matter of fact, yes. There’s some business I need to attend to in port and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining me. It requires a bit of muscle, you see, and you’re one of the biggest guys I’ve got.”
“Are we picking up cargo here?” Noah murmured suspiciously. “I thought it was just a supply stop?”
“Two birds, one stone.” Without waiting for Noah to reply, Benjamin set off down the gangway. He had no choice but to follow.
“What are we picking up?” Noah asked, catching up. He wore his sword slung across his body, the weapon drawing surreptitious glances that made him nervous. This entire port made him nervous. Already, the cacophony of shouting men, rallying new crew members and shouting their tradeable wares, felt deafening. The peace and serenity of Tarfaya had spoiled him.
Benjamin tutted. “Come now, you know better than to ask such questions.”
“Call it professional interest.” In truth, Noah was worried about the nature of Benjamin’s dealings here. There were only three main avenues of revenue to be found on these brutal shores—slaves, whales, or piracy. None of them spelled out anything but trouble.
“Fine… How does whale oil sit with you?”
Noah shrugged. “It could be worse.”
“Aye, that it could.”
“Is it worse?”
Benjamin shot him a warning look. “No more questions, Noah. You’re here for your brawn not your brains. Just keep your mouth shut and leave everything else to me, do you understand?”
“Whatever you say, captain,” he replied, through gritted teeth.
Fifteen minutes later, they came to a halt outside a dingy establishment on the western side of the vast port. Noah could not even see the Emerald from where they were standing. A prospect that set his nerves on edge, considering his precious cargo was still firmly on the ship.
Focusing on the task at hand, Noah glanced at the exterior of the building. It was a squat structure, tucked away in a copse of trees, most of which had been hacked in half by unskilled hands. There were no windows in the scrappy wooden sides of the hovel, only vacant holes, and above the open doorway was a low roof crafted from a patchwork of ships’ sails. He dreaded to think where the fabric had come from. Pirates were known to have their strongholds here, using the helpful cover of the whalers and the slavers to stay hidden in plain sight. This, however, looked like the calling card of a pirate’s headquarters if ever he had seen one.
Benjamin stepped under the rickety lintel, prompting Noah to do the same. Beyond lay a public house of sorts with a ramshackle bar at one side and tables scattered wherever there was space. A few sour-faced, unscrupulous sorts sat in the gloom, sipping from wooden tankards and chipped glasses.
“What are we doing here?” Noah hissed.
“Never you mind,” Benjamin shot back. He led the way to the bar, where a giant of a man stood. Scarred and tattooed, the fellow looked as though he had seen his share of scrapes with all but two of his teeth missing from the cavern of his mouth.
“What?” the proprietor barked.
Benjamin stood his ground. “I am looking for Thomas St. Vincent,” he replied. “I was told he’d be around here somewhere.”
“Over there.” The giant jabbed a pudgy finger toward the darkest corner of the room. Noah couldn’t see anyone sitting in the gloom, only a solitary wisp of bluish smoke coiling up towards the patchwork roof.
Benjamin strode over and sat down at the corner table, awaiting no invitation. Drawing a matchbox from his pocket, he struck one and touched the flame to the candle in the center of the sticky surface. As it flickered to life, the flame rising, it shed its light upon the face of Thomas St. Vincent. Noah almost gasped out loud. He had not expected to be meeting a man like Thomas St. Vincent—not in a place like this.
Thomas was a slender man with fine features and a mop of blond curls which were slicked back with a healthy amount of Macassar. His clothes were made from expensive fabrics and the rings on his hands were worth more than the Emerald herself.
What on Earth is a gentleman such as yourself doing in Praia? Noah wondered. He stayed standing, in case anything went awry. Where Benjamin was concerned, they usually did. On their last voyage to Andhra Pradesh, many moons ago, they had barely escaped with their lives after Benjamin had attempted to sell a trunk of moldering cotton to a merchant trader, claiming it was linen. At that very moment, the same heavy sense of dread clenched his chest in a vise.
“Captain Frodsham, a pleasure to see you out on the high seas again,” Thomas spoke first, his voice clipped and melodic.
“And you, Lord Thomas.”
“I am rather sorry you lost those navy contracts,” he went on. “We all adored having you come to our soirées to tell your enchanting tales of faraway shores. I suppose invitations have been somewhat thinner on the groun
d of late? Alas, the admiralty is to blame. They cannot see the benefit in contraband, though I fervently admire the practice of smuggling.”
Benjamin nodded. It was the first time Noah had ever seen him nervous. “I do what I can, Lord Thomas.”
“Now, what may I assist you with on this fine day?”
Benjamin paused. “Why, surely you know why I am here?”
“No… I have no idea, my good man. I thought you might be admiring the view, garnering some inspiration from the slavers. There is excellent money to be made in slaving,” he said, chuckling coldly. “Or whaling, if you prefer something a little more titillating?”
“You know very well why I am here, Lord Thomas.” Benjamin’s tone darkened, alerting Noah to imminent danger. “I sent that ship a fortnight ago. My man in Tarfaya confirmed that it had departed from Western Africa and my scout here confirmed that it had arrived. Now, either you have taken my cargo and are now refusing payment or you have somehow lost my cargo between here and the harbor and expect me to go without suitable recompense. Which is it?”
