by Chloe Carley
I am no longer that young woman, she thought to herself on the fourteenth day since leaving Cape Verde. I have left her on British shores, never to be seen again. Good riddance, I say. Now, she could not imagine life without Nan… or Noah for that matter.
He visited every day, without fail, to make sure she was doing well. Nan, too. He brought their meals and their afternoon tea, though Rachel had started to notice that the portion sizes were dwindling and the ingredients were not what they had once been. She did not mind the unexpected rationing of food, but it worried her. Noah had not mentioned that they were running low on supplies, but there had to be a reason behind the change in meals.
Stepping outside to catch a breath of fresh air, she decided to speak with him about it. Nan did not eat much, but with her condition as it was, Rachel did not want her eating food that lacked the proper nutrition. Unless there was a valid reason for it, of course. Then, she could better understand the situation she and her companion were in. Still, keeping secrets was not likely to do anyone any favors.
She found him standing on the upper deck above the Empire suite watching the distant horizon with concerned eyes. His brows were pinched together in a frown, his mouth set in a grim line. I much prefer it when you smile, Mr. Sharpleton. She longed to say so out loud, but she could not muster the courage. Somehow, it seemed inappropriate. After all, they were not friends, nor relations, nor romantically inclined… Truthfully, she was not sure how to describe their relationship. Sometimes, it felt as though they were a mixture of all three while other times it felt as though they were none of those things. It confused her daily.
“You look troubled, Mr. Sharpleton,” Rachel said, disturbing Noah from his reverie.
He turned slowly, his eyes strangely sad. “I am simply deep in thought, Miss Faulks.”
“Anything I may assist with?”
“I do not believe so. Not in this instance.”
She glanced at him curiously. “Is something the matter?”
“No, of course not,” he said softly, dropping his gaze as though he could not bring himself to meet hers.
“Then why can you not look me in the eyes?”
“I would not wish to appear rude.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Sharpleton. You have looked me in the eyes on many occasions and I have not deemed you rude or impertinent,” she replied firmly. “Something is the matter and I would very much like to know what it is. I am far more observant than you may give me credit for. I see the meals that you bring and I know that supplies must be waning. Last night’s meat broth was little more than seasoned water with a few pieces of dried meat bobbing in the pool of oily liquid.”
He lifted his gaze at last. “I was wondering when you would notice for I know how keen your eyes are. Indeed, you are very astute. It is one of your many qualities.” He sighed wearily, turning out to the open sea. “I had hoped to have a little more time before you realized something was going on, for I wanted to protect you from the truth a while longer.”
“You have lied to me?” she asked, confused.
“Not lied, per se.” He looked up at her with earnest eyes. “Please, do not think ill of me for withholding some elements of honesty from you. I thought it might be for the best, though I cannot think why—you would have found out eventually.”
Fear started to creep through Rachel’s veins. “What is the matter, Mr. Sharpleton? What truth have you kept from me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, a million terrible notions raced through her fevered mind.
“The altercation at Praia harbor was more than a small one,” he replied solemnly. “Captain Frodsham managed to get himself into a great deal of trouble with some rather unpleasant individuals. That is why we returned so hastily. They gave chase, but we managed to pull away from the port before they could board and… Well, I do not know what they might have done to us. However, the incident appears to have incited a bout of paranoia within the captain’s mind. He altered our course, as a result. He was under the impression that we were being followed and nothing I said could dissuade him from that idea. I tried, believe me I did, but his mind would not be changed.”
Rachel gasped. “How has our course changed?”
“We have been traveling along the African coast for two weeks, instead of heading directly across the Atlantic. It shall add many weeks to our journey,” he said, shamefaced. “I thought we might reach Brazil in good time with the wind at our backs or that the captain might have a change of heart. Neither of those things have worked in our favor and so, we are stuck on this path.”
“Is it safe?”
He smiled sadly in her direction. “If the weather holds, all we will have to worry about is our supplies growing thinner. There is enough for us to reach the South American shores, but it will be tough on all of us. We will all have to ration ourselves further. Indeed, we may be down to a few ship’s biscuits a day by the time we see land again.”
“You thought I could not endure such news?” A shiver of anger weaved into her words. She was stronger than she looked and far tougher than he seemed to think. Evidently, despite everything, he still saw her as the spoilt, sheltered, naïve young woman she had been when she had boarded the Emerald. Had he not witnessed her metamorphosis on this journey? Could he not see what she now saw in the mirror? For some reason, she wanted him to see it, more than anyone.
“It is not that, Miss Faulks,” he replied. “It was my own pride that kept me from telling you. I hoped I could offer my rations to add to yours and keep you from discovering the hard truth. I didn’t want to have to put you and Nan through the same hardship as the rest of us. You did not sign up for it, nor do you deserve to suffer through it, all because of one man’s foolish decision.”
Instantly, her anger softened. “You would have starved to death, Mr. Sharpleton.”
“I have endured far worse starvation, Miss Faulks. I am certain I could have managed it, for your sake… and Nan’s, of course.”
“I will not hear of it. If we are to sail farther than we intended, then your skills will be required,” she said gently. “I do not know much about ships, but I know that parts will begin to fail. Your carpentry will be needed in due course, and you can only play your role if you have your strength. Nan and I shall learn to adapt, as we all must. Besides, if anyone is to give up some of their rations, it shall be me to bolster the health of my dear companion and to feed my darling creatures.”
He chuckled unexpectedly. “Your father must be a proud man indeed.”
“How so?”
“To have a daughter such as yourself, who would be willing to put herself through discomfort for the greater good of this vessel, and for the sake of her newfound friends. They are lucky to be in your care, Miss Faulks.”
A sudden thought struck Rachel. “Will my pets be safe? If there is a food shortage, won’t they be in danger?”
He shook his head. “I have already warned the sailors that if they touch a single hair or feather from any one of your creatures they shall have me to deal with. Your animals will be safe, I swear it to you. Even if I have to defend them myself, they will survive this… as you will.”
Overcome with a sudden wave of gratitude for this man who had done so much to try and preserve her comfort and her peace of mind, she reached out and took his hand. She held it tight, feeling the coarse callouses of his palms as she squeezed her admiration through the layers of his skin. She hoped he could feel what she felt. Looking into his eyes, he seemed surprised and speechless.
With her cheeks reddening, she dropped her gaze and focused on the grazed knuckles of his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered before letting go.
“It is my pleasure, Miss Faulks,” he murmured in reply. “I was tasked with taking care of you, but my role has become so much more than that. Now, it feels more like my duty. I am not protecting you because someone else has asked me to. I am protecting you because your life has become intrinsically important to me. You are precious beyond measure.”
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A lump gathered in Rachel’s throat as she looked at him. Now, it was her turn to be speechless. All her life, she had felt like an afterthought in everyone else’s plans. She had never been the center-point to anyone’s existence. Her brother had vanished after an unfortunate incident which had implicated him in the death of a nobleman’s son. Her father had gone to seek his fortune in foreign lands and had not come back home again and her mother had died a long time ago. Her friends were few and far between and, though they adored her, their lives did not stop if she was not around. To suddenly be someone’s purpose felt bizarre and wonderful all at once. In truth, she did not know how to process the revelation that Noah had just spoken with such raw honesty. She had never anticipated such sentiment, least of all from him.
“I have embarrassed you,” Noah said quietly. “My apologies, Miss Faulks. I only meant to say that it is my honor to serve and protect you while you are here onboard this ship. Now, please, if you will excuse me, there are several things that require my attention. If you require anything further, do not hesitate to let me know.” He dipped his head in a small bow before walking past her and down the steps of the upper deck. Rachel watched him go, wishing she could get her voice to function. There was an entire flurry of thanks that she wished to rain down upon him—a veritable onslaught of gratitude. However, before she could muster a squeak, he had gone.
Her thanks would have to wait. Next time, she would not falter.
Chapter Eighteen
Noah awoke abruptly to the sensation of the ship lurching violently, the motion almost sending him careening out of his bed. Two days had passed since he had spoken shyly to Rachel of his change in duty and they had not mentioned the awkward incident since. However, his first thoughts were of her as the ship rolled to the side, several of his books sliding from the shelf on the far wall and landing in a heap on the ground. He twisted around in his bed and noticed the telltale droplets of water that spattered the window to his cabin. Rain hammered down upon the flimsy glass, beating out a fearsome percussion.
Earlier that afternoon, he had noticed dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but the helmsman had turned them away from it at his subtle request. He wondered now if his warning had come too late. Dressing rapidly, he sprinted into the hallway, knocking on every door to awaken the sleeping sailors within. As he mounted the steps to the top deck, the wind howled all around him, buffeting the sails with a vehement fury.
His eyes flew wide as he took in the vast ocean beyond the vulnerable vessel. It had undergone a terrifying metamorphosis; the flat calm and small swells having transformed into towering waves that crashed down with deafening roars of turbulent water. The sky overhead was black and starless, filled instead with the bruised, vengeful stampede of unyielding storm-clouds. Thunder growled like a savage beast while lightning forked through the darkness, casting a shuddering, stark light upon the brutal maelstrom below.
Rain lashed down upon the deck making it slippery underfoot as Noah tugged his collar up and made for the rigging. The sails needed to be cut before they dragged the whole ship down. A few of the men were already up there trying their hardest to sever the ropes, but there weren’t enough sailors up and about to get them cut in time. Grasping his knife from its sheath at his belt, he gripped it between his teeth and clambered up the rigging, his muscles burning as he hauled himself up to the very top.
“She’s taking on water!” one of the sailors yelled to him, his voice barely audible above the din of the storm. “We need more hands on deck!”
Noah glanced down to see what he meant. A wave crashed into the side of the ship, frothing water spilling across the deck and down into the belly of the Emerald. A few of the men who’d been awoken by Noah’s knocking were sent flying backward down the cabin stairs, the water overwhelming them for a moment.
“We need to loose the sails!” Noah shouted back. That was the first priority unless they wanted the howling gales to catch the ship in their clutches and knock it into the towering walls of water that were rising in the near-distance.
Gripping the mast between his thighs, he shuffled along to the first set of ropes and began to saw through the thick fibers with the sharp edge of his blade. The torrent of rain and the slick water that cascaded from the upper sails made everything twice as hard, the visibility almost nil. It beat down on his face with unrelenting force, his clothes soaked through in an instant. Still, he would not give up until the bonds were loosened. Everyone’s lives depended on it.
“Hold fast!” a terrified scream went up from another of the sailors who was dealing with the sails on the opposite mast. Noah whirled around in time to see an enormous wave hurtling right for them. Ducking down, he wrapped his arms and legs around the mast and held on as tightly as he could using every last scrap of strength he had to brace his body against the slippery wood. The icy water smashed into him with the violence of a thousand savage blows, the freezing temperature stealing away his breath as he endured.
It subsided as quickly as it had appeared leaving him to gasp in a lungful of oxygen as he turned himself the right way around. He peered along the length of the mast and found that they’d already lost half their number. The sailor who’d shouted was nowhere to be seen, having been blasted from his perch by the volatile wave. Many more had tumbled into the water, though there was one young man who hadn’t been nearly so lucky. Noah could see his body, twisted and broken, on the deck below.
The ship rocked from side to side like a pendulum, lurching this way and that, the crow’s nest virtually touching the waves to either side as it was tossed upon the water. Noah wasted no time in cutting the rest of the ropes on his part of the topsail, the fabric flying free as each one was released. Now, the howling winds had less hold upon the ship, for they could not force their whorls into the swollen bellies of the sails. The only trouble was, the sailors on the opposite mast were struggling and there were still two more bulging sails to free before they could regain some control of the ship.
Turning around, he moved nimbly toward the other sailors, his knife still gripped between his teeth. Reaching across the main mast to pull himself onto the starboard side, he froze. A figure was clambering up the rigging below, urged on by Onions who climbed at her side. He could hardly believe his eyes. Rachel had tied her dress between her legs, forming curious pantaloons that gave her legs the freedom to move up the sodden rope, while her arms heaved her slender weight upwards.
“Miss Faulks, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” he cried.
“Helping!” she shouted back, a nervous smile on her face. In truth, her eyes held a spooked expression that revealed true terror beneath.
“You should return to your suite this very instant.”
She shook her head in defiance. “I will not. You require assistance. I am able-bodied. I will do whatever you ask of me just point me towards a task. Make use of me, Mr. Sharpleton, for I will not retreat when this vessel is in trouble.”
“Miss Faulks, please. You must retire. This is no place for a young lady.”
“I should like to survive the evening, Mr. Sharpleton. I will not sit idly by while you and your men risk your lives, not when I could be of some use. Please, allow me to help you.”
He grimaced. “And you will not return to your rooms?”
“I will not.”
“Very well… then stay close to me,” he called as she closed the gap between them. Despite his misgivings and his fears for her safety, he could not help but admire her for wanting to do whatever she could to get them all through this storm. She had made it rather clear that he would not stop her and so, he would have to protect her in her reckless endeavors instead. Besides, they needed all the assistance they could get with their numbers dwindling so rapidly. He had no idea how many sailors were trapped below deck unable to get through the water that had flooded the corridors beneath, but there were hardly any sailors above deck. A handful or two, at most.
“So, tell me, what may I do, Mr.
Sharpleton?” she asked, reaching the topmast. He heard the tremor in her voice as she spoke and her hands shook upon the ropes as she gripped onto them for dear life. The rain had already drenched her, tendrils of dark hair plastered against her pale skin as she fought to keep her hold on the slick wood. He had a sudden urge to reach out and brush the strands of hair behind her ear, but he refrained.
“Take this,” he instructed, handing her his second knife. “Follow me closely. If you feel like you may fall, then hold onto me. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I would advise you not to look down.”
She gulped, her gaze dropping to the deck below. “I fear it is too late for that, Mr. Sharpleton.”
Together, with Onions bringing up the rear, they moved along the mast and began to cut the ropes of the starboard sails. The look of determination on Rachel’s face would have amused him in any other situation, but now was not the time for laughter. Their lives were at stake and Rachel had placed herself in a somewhat treacherous position. It did not sit well with him, though there was little he could do about it.
