by Chloe Carley
“Garrick is… dead,” Rachel gasped.
“As good as,” he replied. “I’m mighty cold, Miss Faulks. My eyes keep going all blurry and black. Not sure what’s happening to me, miss.”
She took a blanket from the box at the back of the boat and wrapped it around Onions’ shoulders. He tried to pull it tighter about himself, but his fingers lack the strength. He did not look well. Indeed, she feared that death would soon be upon him for he could not focus on her when she looked at him and his body was getting limper by the second. He could barely hold his own neck upright to prop up the weight of his head. Nan sat beside him and lay his head on her shoulder, relieving him of some of his suffering.
“Mother?” he whispered, utterly confused.
“There, there, my boy,” she murmured back, playing along in case these were his final moments. “You’re safe now, my lad. Ain’t nothing out there can harm you now. You sleep awhile, my dearest boy, and if you should awaken in green pastures, do not be afraid for there, all is light and wonder and there is no pain anymore.”
Onions nestled closer like a frightened child, Nan stroking his damp hair softly as he mumbled incoherently. His eyes closed slowly, his mouth still moving in worried whispers. Rachel stared at them both, her heart aching with grief and despair. The poor boy did not look as though he would make it through. Indeed, it made her angry to think of what the captain had done to him when he had simply sought to rescue more men.
However, she did not have much time to vent her fury at Captain Frodsham. A cry went up behind her—Noah’s voice shouting something that she couldn’t quite hear above the tumultuous bellow of the ocean waves. She turned a moment too late watching in horror as a gigantic wave crashed over them. It ripped her from her seat, throwing her into the icy blackness, her body twisting and turning beneath the waves as it struggled to remember which way was up and which was down. Everything looked the same, the whole world tumbling in front of her eyes. Fearsome currents wrenched her this way and that as she fought against the tides that wanted to drag her down into the abyss.
Frantically, she tried to claw her way to the surface, but all she could find was icy water. Her lungs burned for oxygen, but it was nowhere in sight. With no moonlight to guide her, she was lost beneath the ocean waves.
Chapter Twenty
Noah gasped as his head broke the surface of the churning water, his hands thrashing as he struggled to stay afloat. The upturned boat bobbed in the water nearby, though he could see no signs of the others. Determination urged him on as he swam toward the upturned boat and tipped it over, the vessel otherwise undamaged. He clambered back into it and stood as tall as he could, peering out over the dark landscape for any sign of Rachel, Nan, Onions, or the animals.
A splash caught his attention in the distance. He whirled around to pinpoint the sound. Something was moving toward him, slowly but surely—a mass of some kind. He squinted to get a better look and realized that Dandelion was swimming his way with something clamped in her teeth. Diving back into the water in one swift movement, he powered toward the dog, though his muscles had taken a severe beating when the wave had crashed over them. It had sprung from nowhere and, with his back to it, he hadn’t seen the wave until it was too late. Not that there was much more he could have done. He could not have rowed them out of danger.
His heart leaped into his mouth as he realized that Dandelion was biting down on a clump of fabric which appeared to be attached to something else below the water. Noah dived beneath the surface and caught sight of a pale face in amongst the flowing material. Rachel… It’s Rachel. He reached for her and pulled her up, holding her head against his shoulder as he swam backward in the direction of the boat. Dandelion followed at a steady paddle.
Reaching the vessel, Noah clambered in first before grasping Rachel beneath her arms and hauling her in. Leaving her for just a moment, he leaned over and took hold of Dandelion, bringing the creature back into the safety of the boat. The dog shook out it’s long coat, a mournful look in it’s brown eyes. Noah understood the expression for he felt the same worry in the pit of his stomach. Rachel did not look to be in a good state. Her skin was much too pale, her lips drained of color, and her body unmoving.
He darted back over to her and lay her down flat in the bottom of the boat. Kneeling at her side, he grimaced as he pounded his fist against her chest. He had seen sailors do it in the past, though he had never been forced to enact it until now. He brought his fist down, again and again, urging her heart to start beating properly. Desperation overwhelmed him for he did not know what he would do without her.
“Please, don’t die,” he begged. “Lord, if you can hear me, let her live. None of this is her fault. She did not ask for this and she did not want any of this. Please, let her live, I pray you.”
Rachel remained still and pale.
“Please, let her live!” he hollered at the winds and the waves and the lashing rain as he brought his fist down one last time. As soon as his hand landed on her chest, her eyes flew open. She sat bolt upright, clutching at her torso as she coughed and spluttered, her gaze flitting around in a panic.
“Mr. Sharpleton? Am I… What happened… Where is everyone?”
Overcome with relief, Noah leaned forward and enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight. Her own arms slid around him tentatively while she buried her face in his neck, her chest heaving with fear and gratitude as she clung to him. Although she was soaked through from the ocean, he could feel the hint of warmth coming from freshly-spilled tears, their sad meander brushing against his skin. He wanted to hold her like that for as long as he could to let her know that everything was going to be fine. He did not know if that would be the case, but he would tell her so if it gave her comfort in this terrifying time.
“Dandelion pulled you to safety,” Noah murmured. “As for Nan, Onions, and the other creatures… I do not know where they may be.”
A squawk alerted Noah to the presence of something trapped under a stretched-out scrap of oilskin. Rachel broke away from him and turned toward the curious lump beneath the fabric. Tearing away the ropes that had unwittingly lashed it to the boat, she discovered the fruit bat, still flapping furiously within. One of the two monkeys gripped tight to the bars, sodden and half-dead. Rachel picked it up instantly and held it to her breast, rubbing its back to urge some warmth into the poor creature. It stirred slightly, looking up at her with weary eyes. Holding onto the neckline of her dress with its tiny paws, it lay there contentedly, resting awhile.
Meanwhile, Noah stood back up in the center of the boat and gazed out upon the bleak waters. He prayed for a sign that Nan and Onions were still alive, but no glimpse of life came back to him. The waves thrashed around what remained of the Emerald which smoked in the distance, but their friends were nowhere to be seen. He kept looking, determined not to give up. He was certain they had to be here somewhere.
“They did not survive, did they?” Rachel asked somberly, a refreshed bout of coughing rising up from her chest.
Noah sighed, feeling the grief rise through him. “No… I do not believe they did.”
“They are lost to us….”
“I am sorry, Miss Faulks. I thought we would be safe. I thought we would have a greater chance of living if we departed the ship.” He peered at the smoldering remains and realized that he had been placed in an impossible position. The Emerald would soon go down, taking every man on board with it. The notion wrenched at his heart for he had warned Captain Frodsham of the dangers. He had been vehement in his desire to turn back, but the captain had not listened. He wondered what else he might have done to change the course of these events—if he had defied orders and told the helmsman to turn the ship around, might things have been different? Or would the same eventuality have taken place—only, without him there to get Rachel and the others onto this lifeboat? Would they have been better off? He did not know.
“You did all you could, Mr. Sharpleton. This is not your doing. You tol
d me so yourself—you asked the captain to take us through an easier path and he refused. The only person responsible for this is Captain Frodsham. If he is out there right now, bobbing on the waters, I hope he may feel the weight of that responsibility. I hope he may feel the weight of all those deaths upon his conscience for he was the one who lowered the axe on all of us.” Tears filled her eyes, her chest heaving with painful sobs as they fell.
“I should have done more,” was all he could say in response. Somehow, he felt as though he had missed an opportunity—a way in which they might all have been safer. He could not place it right now, but a niggling doubt lingered in the back of his mind that he could not shake. It is survivor’s guilt, Noah. That is all.
“She so desperately wanted to find her son,” Rachel murmured, as Dandelion curled up at her feet. “That was all she desired from this voyage: a chance to discover if he, too, was alive. She had lost her husband and her son did not know of it. He had not written to her and she feared for his safety. She agreed to chaperone me because she hoped it would lead her back to her boy.”
Noah’s heart broke. “If he is gone, as so many of our soldiers are, then they shall be reunited in heaven. It is a small consolation, but it is one that we should allow to cheer our weary souls. Nan’s heart was pure and good. If she cannot meet with him in the Kingdom of Heaven, then there is no justice in this world. I can think only of their reunion for if I think of that loss… that boy’s loss and Nan’s last hope unfulfilled, then I fear it may break my spirit as well as my heart.”
Rachel looked up into his eyes. “I thought I saw the Kingdom of Heaven for a moment when I could not free myself from the water’s clutches. There was a fearsome light – bright and warm – and it enveloped me. It called to me softly with whispers and songs and then… and then something brought me back. A jolt, as though I had been cast out and returned to Earth.”
“My dear Miss Faulks, you could never be cast out by God. It simply means that it was not your time to visit that final resting place for there was more for you to do here,” he explained rapidly, touched by the melancholy note in her voice. “Perhaps, you are supposed to find Nan’s son and fulfil her final wish. Or, perhaps, he has other plans for you. Maybe he did not want your father to have to suffer through the tragic loss of your death at sea. There are a thousand reasons he may have saved you. And I, for one, am eternally grateful for this gift.” He paused shyly, not knowing whether to continue. “When I surfaced, and I could not find you, I… I longed to plunge back into the water and let the ocean take me to a watery grave. Your life has become my duty, Miss Faulks. To have failed you in such a terrible way would have made my own life seem worthless.”
“You must not say such things,” Rachel whispered, holding her hand to her mouth.
“It looks like you have more than one guardian angel watching out for you,” he mused, trying to lighten their spirits. He nodded to Dandelion, who seemed unfazed by the entire endeavor. “Had it not been for that glorious mutt, I should never have discovered you in time.”
She leaned down and ruffled Dandelion’s wet fur. “I am grateful for you both. I only wish…” She collapsed into a quiet fit of sobs, her shoulders shaking as she wept into her hands. She did not need to finish the sentence for Noah knew what she had been about to say. She wished that Nan could have made it, too. The two women had become firm friends throughout the voyage and he could sense the heartbreak in her at the prospect of a near-future without her. Nan had become like a second mother to Rachel. Recovering from a loss like that would be a hard road indeed, especially as Rachel had already lost one mother in her life.
Silently, he walked over to where she sat and sank down beside her. As she cried quietly, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. She accepted readily, looping her arms around his neck as she nestled into the curve of his neck, releasing all of her sadness into him. It was improper, but he did not think that mattered now. Rachel was grieving and there was nobody to witness his act of compassion. Besides, he still had no idea how they were going to make it out of this. A tender embrace could not hurt anyone here.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I am sorry for what has happened tonight but know this: I will see you safely to the shores of America and I will deliver you to the loving arms of your father. I will not let anything happen to you for as long as I have breath in my lungs. Trust in me for even if it is my last act on this Earth, I will bring you back to your family.”
She hugged him harder, weeping torrents of hot, bitter tears against him as he held her close. I will not let you go, Rachel, for as long as you need me. You have my word on that. I have nothing at home to call my own and I have nothing waiting for me on the other side of all of this. So, until you walk away from me and back into the place where you belong, you will be everything to me. Right now, I hold my entire world in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
They sailed for what felt like years upon the seemingly endless ocean. The storms had passed and brought fierce sunlight in their wake, the brutal heat beating down upon their weary bodies as they sought shelter beneath stretched blankets that had been fashioned into a canopy. As for food and water, they had very little—only the meager rations that had been placed into the locked crate at the back of the lifeboat. A week’s worth, at the most: some ship’s biscuits, some sealed jars of water, and a package of dried meat. Many of the jars had smashed when the lifeboat had been turned over, but what remained became more precious to Noah and Rachel than anything else.
“You must drink,” Rachel urged. She had seen him pour his rations into her jar when he’d thought she wasn’t looking. He looked deeply unwell, his face drawn and his lips cracked with dark circles under his eyes that looked more like bruises.
“I have, Miss Faulks,” he replied weakly.
“Please, take some of mine.” She moved over to where he sat on the central bench and lifted her jar to his lips. He drank but a sip before turning his face away, claiming he had had enough. She knew it could not be so and it worried her. He had lost much of his strength in the five or so days that they had been bobbing aimlessly on the water and would only continue to fail if he did not nourish himself.
“Have you any further thoughts on where we may be?” she asked, returning to the back bench to feed Dandelion a small cupful of water. The dog lapped it up eagerly before retreating beneath the shadow of the canopy.
“I have mapped our location using the stars, but we are still a long way from land.”
She nodded. “I suppose we cannot row?”
“We have the oars, but it is too far and I fear… I lack the might to take us there.” He seemed dazed, leaning forward to hold his head. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, his eyes unfocused and spooked.
Immediately, she went to his side once more and rubbed his back gently. Beneath her palm, she could feel the taut muscles of his back, though the lack of food had made his bones more prominent. His ribcage was beginning to show through the thin material of his shirt. She had undressed to just her petticoat in a vain attempt to fend off the humid heat that pestered them each day from sunrise to sunset. Fortunately, there was nobody around to see her shocking state nor did she worry about Noah looking at her in an untoward manner. Even now, brought to the edge of despair, he maintained a polite courtesy around her.
In truth, part of her reveled in the evenings they spent together, curled up under the canopy to conserve heat. All of the day’s sunlight seemed to dissipate as darkness came, leaving them shivering and their teeth chattering. They had tried to maintain a civil distance on the first evening, but Rachel’s wrenching coughs had brought him back to her side.
Sometimes, when he was fast asleep and facing her, she would prop herself up on her elbow and watch him curiously. She had never seen a man be so strong and vulnerable all at the same time. Indeed, there was something about people when they slept that revealed their true nature, though she had never watch
ed anyone sleep before. Noah was the first. He showed a quiet softness, his lips mumbling on occasion as he dreamed. Each time she found herself awake at his slumbering side, she wondered what it might be like to lean down and kiss the rough sand of his stubble. Once, she had almost pressed her lips to his forehead but had thought better of it in the end. They might have been out of sight of polite society, but that did not mean she was about to turn into a common hussy.
On the seventh day of their aimless floating, Rachel spotted something flitting toward the boat. She lifted her hand to her brow and squinted up at it, as a tiny bird came to land on the side of the vessel. It took her a moment or two to realize that it was Peridot, the chartreuse feathers ruffling as it hopped along the side toward her. She cried out in delight as she held out her hand, the small bird fluttering onto her index finger.
Noah stirred. “Is something the matter, Rachel… I mean, Miss Faulks?”
