The Secret of Her Guardian Sailor: An Inspirational Historical Romance Novel

by Chloe Carley

  The heat was sweltering here, beneath the tangled canopy where none of the sunlight could escape. Soon, a sheen of sweat had formed across his body, making his shirt stick to his skin in the most uncomfortable manner. The trees were more densely packed the further he ventured from the beach and the entire place was riddled with unexpected beasts that he did not necessarily want to witness. Spiders the size of his hand with furred bodies and legs as long as forearm scuttled up the trunks of the foliage while veiled webs crossed his path at almost every turn. Smaller spiders in bright colors lifted their front legs in anger as he walked into one of their webs for the thousandth time, his skin itching at the thought of one of them on his body. He shuddered pushing away the thought as he kept on.

  Spiders were the least of his worries. Snakes slithered beneath the mossy carpet, their scales shining in the faint light that glanced through the trees. Some blended into the pattern of the trees making them look like moving creepers as he skirted underneath them. Only when he got too close did he realize the danger he was in, their snapping jaws making him stagger back in alarm.

  Trying not to let fear overwhelm him, he decided to turn the tables on these snakes. Seeking out a large constrictor that moved sluggishly across the jungle floor, he lunged for it and grasped it behind the head, burying his knife between its eyes. It died with little pain, the entire thing falling limp in his hands as he slung it over his shoulders. He did not like to kill any living thing, but this was life or death. If they did not eat, they would never make it off this island.

  He killed a few more before heading back the way he had come, the snakes coiled around his neck like strange scarves. As he walked, he tried not to think of Rachel. Only, she continued to be his constant waking thought. He did not know what had changed or when it had changed, but he was starting to wonder about the future. Once they reached America, was she just going to cast him aside with a reward and a thank you? He was not arrogant enough to believe that she harbored any feelings for him, but he could not deny his own. With each day that passed and each increasingly wonderful thing that Rachel did, he found himself falling in love with her.

  This cannot come to any good, he told himself. You must put all romantic thoughts of her aside. Her father likely has a suitable man already arranged upon her arrival. She is a noble lady, she is not for the likes of you. A sailor with nothing to his name.

  He paused in his tracks as he noticed something white, wrapped up in a mass of spiked tendrils. It appeared to be moving, if only faintly. Curiosity led him towards it. Reaching down, he pulled aside the barbs and the interwoven creepers to reveal a fallen dove, it’s mournful eyes looking up at him with silent resignation. Carefully, he untangled it from the thorns and held it tightly in his hands turning it over for any signs of injury. Two small thorns had embedded themselves in the creature’s wings, leaving a faded streak of rusty scarlet on the virgin white of the bird’s feathers.

  “You may be a sign if ever I have seen one,” he mumbled to himself. Keeping the dove safely cradled in both of his hands, he continued on through the jungle until he found his way back to the beach.

  Rachel sat in the sand beside the new shelter with several filled jars of water by her side. Dandelion roamed the beach sniffing at strands of seaweed that had been washed up while Peridot perched on the roof of the hut. Rachel’s hands moved deftly as they wove a stack of palm fronds into a tight, crisscrossing pattern that resembled wicker. She looked up as he approached, offering him a welcome smile.

  “Where did you get the water from?” he asked.

  “There is a stream just within the jungle. It tumbles down from a rock face and has no taste of salt about it,” she explained.

  He arched an impressed eyebrow. “You continue to surprise me, Miss Faulks.”

  “And what have you found for our meal?” He brandished the snakes and kept his hands behind his back, her face morphing into a mask of horror as she noticed the reptiles about his neck. “Snakes?” she gasped.

  “You will not even remember they are snakes once they have been roasted over an open fire,” he told her, with a chuckle. “I found something else while I was in the jungle, too. Not to be eaten, of course, but I thought it might cheer you.”

  She frowned. “What is it?”

  He took his hands from behind his back and held out the wounded dove. Rachel clapped her palms together in wonderment, jumping up off the ground and closing the gap between them. She took the dove gently and held it up to the light, stretching out the poor thing’s wings to get a better idea of the damage.

  “I shall take care of you, my dear,” she murmured to the bird, before taking up her place in front of the shelter. There, she lay the feathered creature in her lap and nipped away each of the thorns, tossing them into the jungle behind her. Tearing off a small strip of her petticoat, she wrapped it around the wounds and tied it neatly before setting the dove upright again. It looked dazed wandering up to the peak of her knee as though debating whether or not to fly off. Thinking better of it, the bird hopped down onto the platform and nestled itself in a pile of the discarded palm scraps.

  Leaving her to it, Noah walked back into the jungle and collected a pile of dry branches and twigs before returning to the hut. He knelt in the sand and built a fire before using his knife and a sharp stone to ignite a spark. It latched to the kindling beneath, a flicker of a flame licking through the branches in no time. Smoke began to roll from the blaze as it took hold.

  He sat down on the opposite side and watched Rachel as she worked.

  “Thank you for saving the bird,” she said, lifting her gaze.

  “I thought you would prefer it if I did. The poor thing seemed as though it had given up hope.”

  “And you have given it renewed life. That is a rare gift indeed.”

  He smiled. “And what are your hopes for a renewed life when you reach America?”

  “I have tried not to think about it too much,” she confessed sheepishly. “I do not know what I shall face when I get there. So much has changed since I left England and I fear that I shall no longer fit into the society that I was born to. Does that make sense?”

  “I believe it does.”

  “Before setting sail, I would never have thought to befriend a woman like Nan, nor would I have thought to do the things I have done. I would never have lifted a finger to help the way I did when the storm hit,” she explained. “I was spoilt and selfish back then. In some ways, I am glad of the trials we have faced, though they have left me bereft in many ways, too. Even now, I keep expecting to hear Nan’s voice calling me into her bedchamber to tell me stories. I am not used to that silence yet and I do not know that I ever shall be. Nan did not desire to linger in America, but I had hoped to persuade her. I wanted her to come with me to my father’s house where I might have offered her comfort in her ageing years. Now, that dream can never be realized and it is a hard thing to understand. I wish she was here. Each moment that I remember what happened, I wish I could wake up from the nightmare I am in. I wish I could turn back the clock and do something differently so that she might still be with us.”

  Noah nodded sadly. “I know what you mean. She was a rare creature, with a heart of gold and a savage wit that could make me laugh for hours.” He paused. “She was so deeply fond of you, Miss Faulks. Indeed, the pair of you were like mother and daughter.”

  “I thought so, too. Having lost my mother so young, it is hard for me to recall what it felt like, to have a maternal presence in my life. Nan reminded me and I was grateful to her for that.” She smiled to herself. “She was fond of you, too—always telling me how handsome you were and how honest a man you were.”

  “Then, perhaps, you and I should find her son for her?”

  “Do you think it would be possible?”

  He shrugged. “I do not see why not. I still have some acquaintances in the Navy who might be able to give me the details of her son’s regiment. We can try to find him, at the very least. Even if w
e do not succeed, we will know that we have done all we can to discover him. And, if we find that he has perished, then we will be comforted in the knowledge that they have been reunited in heaven.”

  “I think that would be a splendid thing.”

  “Then, it is settled,” he said. “Once we reach America, we shall search for Nan’s missing son. You and I, together.” Her eyes met his, a silent moment passing between them. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he could not find the words. Nor did he know if they would be welcome. So, he simply looked at her and hoped she could feel what he desired to tell her.

  Do not leave me just yet, Rachel. Not yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  That night, they lay in their separate sleeping areas, the fire flickering happily outside the hut. Through the crisscrossed fronds, Rachel could just make out the stars above. A cold breeze whipped across the beach, but she could feel none of it, safely tucked up beneath her blanket in the shelter that Noah had built for them.

  “Mr. Sharpleton, are you awake?” she asked quietly.

  “I am.”

  “I was wondering… might you tell me about your life?” She fidgeted awkwardly. “Only, I do not know much about you and I would so very much like to learn more. Besides, Nan used to tell me stories before I went to sleep and I cannot bear the silence. It would please me if you would speak of your history.”

  He chuckled wryly. “There is not much to tell.”

  “There must be!” she exclaimed, turning over so she could catch a glimpse of him through the partition. Her eyes widened as she realized he had removed his shirt, his athletic torso visible above the line of his blanket. She knew she ought to look away, but she could not. His skin was naturally tanned, with a small tattoo on his chest in the shape of an anchor. Everything about his physique was taut and defined, molded by years of hard work.

  “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “I was born in Tarleton – a small village in Lancashire – where two rivers meet. My father was a fisherman by trade, and he died a short while after my birth. There was an accident at one of the canal locks. One of his men had dived into the water to loosen a bit of rope that had caught, but the men on the other side didn’t know he was down there. My father tried to get them to stop, but it was too late. He dove in to try and save his friend, he got trapped between the closing gates, along with the man he had tried to rescue. My mother was never the same after that or so I am told. Before his death, she was cheerful and happy and, though there were moments of that throughout my life with her, there was always an undercurrent of sadness.

  “She never remarried and there were no siblings to speak of. We moved to Liverpool a few years after that incident, where she worked as a maid in the home of an earl. She was loyal to that family for twenty years and they threw her out like a crust of worthless bread when a theft befell the household. It was later discovered that someone else had taken the countess’ prized necklace, but no apology was ever given and they did not seek to restore my mother’s reputation. For years before that happened, I had to comfort her every night, for the earl and his second wife were cruel to her without purpose or reason.

  “She died within a month of the incident. A dark fog clouded her mind and I could not make her better. There was nothing I could do for her and she simply faded away before my very eyes. She refused to eat, refused to drink, refused to rise in the morning. I discovered her in bed one day, her body lifeless and her eyes open. I will never forget the peaceful look on her face, for she was free at last—free from all those who had left her destitute and downtrodden. I like to think she and my father are together in Heaven with no weight or strain upon their shoulders. It is what stopped me from falling into a depression of my own.”

  Tears welled up in Rachels’s eyes as she heard his sad story. She had never expected him to have such a troubled history filled with such misery and difficulty. She stifled a sob, as she thought of him as a younger man all alone in this world. It explained the melancholy that always seemed to follow him. More than anything, she could only marvel at his strength and fortitude. He had endured all of that and yet still found the will to continue. It broke her heart to think of him with nobody to care.

  I will not abandon you, she promised. I will never leave you alone again. It was a bold statement, but she meant every word. She would not see him wander this world alone again, not now that she had come into his life. She did not know how she would keep him close, but she resolved to try. Besides, part of her was not ready to say goodbye to him. The prospect pained her deeply, though she would never have revealed that to him. Propriety prevented her.

  “That is why you became a sailor?” she prompted, her voice thick with emotion.

  “I had no place to call home, so I figured I might as well see some of the world—see if there was anywhere else that I might call home. I suppose the open seas have been the closest I have come to such a thing, though there has always been something lacking.” He turned on his bed, revealing more of his bare torso to Rachel’s wide eyes. “Sailors become like brothers, but then you head into port and you may not see them again. Or you may lose them on the open ocean and the loss of them stings for years afterwards. I suppose I learned that it was no better than the life I had previously had. I still had no-one at the end of it all.”

  “You must have seen some beautiful things?”

  She saw him smile. “Oh yes, I have seen the most wonderful things one could ever imagine. The kind of sights and sounds and scents that one could only conjure up in a dream. I have tasted exotic food and spoken in foreign tongues and witnessed the sun rising and setting on almost every continent. Do not mistake me, Miss Faulks, the sailing life has not been without its pleasures. However, the pains have outweighed them when all has been added together.”

  “I am sorry for that,” she murmured.

  “Do not be.”

  “How can I not? It illuminates my own privilege to hear you speak of your life. I have led a sheltered existence, up until my voyage, and I am sorry for that. I am sorry for the earl who treated your mother with disdain and the hardship she must have suffered. I am sorry for the way our world is divided so that men like you do not feel as though they cannot find a place in society. I am sorry that I am me and you are you for… I wish things were different.”

  He stayed silent for a moment while Rachel’s cheeks burned furiously. “Do you honestly feel that way?” he asked, breaking the tension.

  “You think I would not?”

  “It surprises me to hear you say such things that is all.”

  She frowned. “Why should it?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps, I am still acquainting myself with this new person you have become.”

  “Yes, I imagine it will take a great many people by surprise.” She turned over and stared back up through the roof. “When shall we prepare to sail?”

  “In several days we may begin to alter the lifeboat to suit our needs,” he replied, a sad note in his voice.

  “Then, we should probably rest for there is much work to be done.”

  “That is an excellent idea,” he replied, though he sounded less than glad. “Goodnight, Miss Faulks.”

  “Yes, goodnight Mr. Sharpleton.”

  Sleep did not claim her for many hours, as she tossed and turned, unable to take her mind off thoughts of Noah. She could hear him snoring softly from the opposite side of the partition, the sound of his breath mingling with the curious sounds of the jungle creatures as they came out beneath the moonlight. The truth was, she was not ready to depart from this island. Here, she could be exactly whom she wanted to be. Out there, it was a very different story. She had grown so used to not having society’s rules impressed upon her that she did not know how she would adapt to those boundaries again, once she felt their weight upon her shoulders once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A week passed with Noah and Rachel working hard to prepare the lifeboat for the long journey to America.
Noah had plotted their course using the stars to guide them while drawing a diagram in the sand of what they would require. Using the blankets and some of the rope and sinews they had acquired, they created a sturdy sail that would catch the ocean breezes and speed their journey onwards. Meanwhile, Noah repaired any cracks and tears that had appeared in the main body of the vessel, making everything seaworthy.

  Still, it was an enormous gamble to take such a small boat back out onto the water. Even Noah was starting to have doubts as the last of the preparations were made. Rachel had gathered coconuts from the jungle and Noah had hunted as many snakes and plump lizards as he could find, letting them dry out in front of the fire. The jars of water were filled and stowed away in the crate at the back of the lifeboat along with the rest of their rations. Where they were going they would need as many supplies as possible. However, Noah doubted that they would be able to muster enough, seeing as he did not know just how long the trip would take them.