Tora left him without another word, fuming. Peder would pay for his unkind, rude ways. Respect, indeed! And what did he mean? Too far to go? Well, he would see. He would see how far she would go. Maybe someday she would marry a man who would take over his measly shipyard and turn him and Elsa out on the streets. Yes, she smiled grimly, that would be a fitting end.
The thought of going back to work with Cook was unbearable. Anything was better than that. Where was that Kristoffer Swenson? Surely she could use the situation to her advantage. There he was, farther forward. She ducked around a mast pole and pulled one large strand of dark hair from its knot, leaving her bun in disarray. There was nothing like a woman in crisis to bring a man to the rescue, she thought, allowing a tiny smile before she worked up the tears again.
Crying, she ran across the deck toward Kristoffer. Several sailors stopped to stare, their faces a mask of concern. When she reached his side, Kristoffer cocked his head and leaned toward her, placing a gentle hand on her forearm. “Miss Anders, what happened?”
“Oh! It was awful! That mean Cook dared to slap me! For taking a brief rest!”
Kristoffer searched her eyes and patted her arm. “I am sorry.”
Real tears welled up at the relief of finding someone who commiserated with her at last. “I am the one who is sorry, Kristoffer. I should have agreed to your generous offer: to help you with your son in exchange for my passage.” She lifted up her eyes to meet his, hoping they looked alluring.
Kristoffer firmly set her apart from him. He glanced up at the sailors lingering about. “Get back to work,” he commanded, and the men obediently scattered. Tora felt the stirrings of respect for his understated power, even as a second mate.
Kristoffer turned back to her and said sternly, “Please do not look at me that way. I am looking for care for my child and wife only. Do you understand?”
Tora sighed. “I do not know of what you speak.”
“I think you do. But I need your help.” As if on cue, Knut popped up from a huge coil of rope on deck and giggled merrily at their surprise. “Mrs. Ramstad, Mrs. Thompson, and Miss Paulson have done more than enough already. But I cannot care for him and carry out my duties aboard the Herald adequately.”
Tora nodded.
“I promise, I will not ever lift a hand to you. But you must fulfill your end of the bargain. For now, you must feed and clothe and care for Knut. Later, you will also help my wife when our new child is born. In exchange for six months of work, I will pay the price of your passage.”
Tora nodded again, accepting his terms.
“Good. I will go tell Peder. See to it that Knut is washed before supper and in bed by seven.” With that, he walked off.
It mattered little to Tora that Kristoffer had rebuffed her. Although he was tall and lanky and strong from his years aboard ship, he was rather homely with that long face, his only really fine physical attributes being nice hazel eyes with a certain intensity about them and rich, brown hair. Her eyes roamed over the deck as Knut ducked down in the ropes, avoiding her hands. Now there was an attractive man, she thought, her eyes flirting with Soren again as he boldly studied her. There was a very attractive man.
Peder entered the hot, smoky galley and briefly sympathized with Tora. Being tough on her did not come easy, but he knew he had little choice. If she was to make her way in America, she needed to find the right path now. With her girlish flirtation and womanly wiles, she was both dangerous and in danger. She felt she had power, but Peder was concerned that if she continued down this road, someone, at some point, might show her how little she truly had. And he would not be around to protect her. He thought of Burgitte, and was glad that his sister and Tora had parted ways years before. Tora Anders was not a good influence. How could she be so different from her sisters?
“Cook,” he said, “Tora will be serving Kristoffer from here on out. Thank you for your patient diligence in dealing with her.” He paused briefly. “My wife would like dinner served at six o’clock.”
Cook looked him in the eye and nodded once, acknowledging his silent pardoning.
Later at dinner, Peder still couldn’t shake the foreboding he felt over his headstrong young sister-in-law. What could he do to straighten her path? Dear Father in heaven, he prayed. Give me the wisdom for the task.
Elsa leaned over and placed a hand on his arm while their dinner guests, Pastor Lien and his wife, along with Bjorn and Ebba Erikson, chatted among themselves. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I am fine,” he said, working up a smile for her. “But you and I must talk about Tora. Something happened today,” he said under his breath.
Elsa nodded. After taking a bite of chicken that Cook had butchered for their dinner, she said, “For now, we need to think of good things. Let’s see, there’s Nora and Einar’s upcoming wedding, and Maine.” Then she added, loudly enough for all to hear, “Tell us about Maine, Peder.”
Peder smiled and began the familiar litany that Elsa never tired of hearing. “Maine is beautiful country,” he said, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin. “Her coast winds back and forth, creating many harbors behind a wall of islands, perfect for shipbuilding.”
Karl stood at the helm, trying to keep his eyes off Peder and Elsa as they strolled arm in arm, Elsa’s head resting against his shoulder. Karl had prayed without ceasing for practically two days’ time, beseeching Christ to lift this burden from his heart. But still he found himself repeatedly spying on the woman, watching as she sketched this and that about the ship, unknowingly providing a perfect opportunity for anyone to observe her.
He was not the only one to take advantage of the opportunity. Yesterday he had noticed Rees, a sailor of questionable integrity, shirking his duties and openly staring at Elsa. Inside, a rage of jealousy stole over Karl’s heart. When Rees noted Karl’s presence but continued staring, Karl had walked with long strides to the man and slammed him up against the cabin wall.
The man stared with big eyes at his first mate. “What—”
“Do not speak,” Karl said quietly, his voice a menacing growl. “Do not look at the captain’s wife in such a way again. Do you understand me?”
Rees nodded quickly, clearly afraid in the face of such fury.
“Do not get near her. If she approaches you, go the other way. I do not want to catch you looking at her again. Do you understand me?” he repeated.
Again Rees nodded, desperate to escape Karl’s murderous hold. With disgust, Karl threw him to the deck. “Get out of my sight. Report to the second mate immediately for a new assignment. You obviously have time on your hands, and we have an entire ship to care for.”
The man scrambled away, and Karl glanced up to see Nora and Einar looking at him in dismay. He ignored them and gazed out at the sea, bracing himself with his arms on the port railing.
When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned, raising his fists in natural defense. He let his hands fall when he saw it was Peder.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing, Captain,” he said, shaking off his friend’s hand. “Sailor needed straightening out. I took care of it.”
Peder looked him in the eye for a prolonged moment, then nodded slightly. “Very well. Carry on.”
As Peder walked away, Karl mocked himself. I am no better than the English Lancelot, he thought. In love with Guinevere, indebted to King Arthur.
Encouraged by Peder’s interest, Elsa had begun to draw the Herald in different situations: with her sails ghostly still in the calms; “between wind and water” as the sailors called it—when she began to roll with a stiff breeze, exposing the hull beneath the waterline; and from her imagination, tossing about in a fearsome storm.
It was with some surprise that Elsa found herself enjoying sketching ships in action more than their skeletons, as her father had done on his design board. Still, the knowledge of a ship’s inner workings made her drawings more realistic, believable, immediate. Perhaps it was because Peder had wa
rned them that a storm was brewing on their seventeenth day at sea that she visualized the Herald cresting giant waves on her pad that day.
The sailors had nodded at their captain’s words, looking around at the calm seas that had plagued them all day, blocking their progress across the Atlantic.
“It’s flatterin’ weather, it is,” Riley said, casting a distrustful eye to the skies.
“Gets ya all comfortable before the squall,” Stefan added.
The men scattered as Kristoffer and Karl set them to work, preparing for the worst.
Throughout the day, Elsa searched the horizon for the menacing clouds the men obviously expected to make an appearance at any moment, but nothing happened until nightfall. Then as they ate their dinner, the ship began to rock violently. They could all hear Karl shouting orders to the sailors. “Furl the sails! Man your posts!”
Peder ignored the building winds and sounds outside the cozy cabin as he calmly ate his meal. The mahogany dinner table was outfitted with small silver ledges that kept plates and cups from sliding in weather such as this. Despite that, Elsa was amazed that the dinnerware kept its place as the Herald tilted so far that the liquid in their cups was at a forty-five-degree angle. Finally though, as the storm gathered strength, Peder calmly set down his fork and knife and told their dinner guests that he had better see them to their quarters.
He returned to their cabin soaked from his venture out, despite the oilskin coat he wore, and Elsa could swear that he was enjoying himself. “Nothing like a good storm to remember why you appreciate life,” he confirmed. “Now to bed with you.”
“I do not wish to go to bed,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I want to see this storm firsthand. For my drawings.”
“Not a chance,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s only going to get worse. And it’s too dangerous for you on deck. You will stay in here.”
Elsa scowled at him as he backed her up against the wall. In spite of herself, she had to laugh in the face of his sudden amorousness. He kissed her soundly, and then said, “Now get into our bed or I’ll have to carry you there myself. And then Karl will not have my help on deck because I won’t be able to resist my wife’s feminine wiles.”
“I will go, husband,” she said with resignation. “See to your ship.”
Peder pulled her into another brief, warm embrace and bent his head for a deep, searching kiss. “I love you, Elsa Anders Ramstad. Now promise me that you will stay put. It’s dangerous out there.”
“I will,” she said, suddenly irritated. He spoke to her as he might speak to a child. “I already told you that.”
“Good enough.” With that, he opened the door and exited, leaving her to shut it against the powerful wind. She grabbed a cloth napkin off the dinner table and mopped the wet wood floor before going back to their room to undress.
Hours later, she lay awake as the storm threatened to toss her out of bed. It had been bad before, but now Elsa was truly frightened. Where was Peder? What if something had happened to him? She made her way to the tiny cabin window that looked out onto the deck and with shaking hands pushed aside the curtains. Her eyes widened in alarm. Huge waves were sweeping across the deck. What if Peder had been washed overboard?
Just then a giant wave rose beneath the Herald and her bow swooped upward. Too late, Elsa reached out to secure herself, and when the ship came crashing down as the wave passed, she went crashing with it. Her head hit a corner of the table in the sitting room as she careened to the floor, and she flinched at the pain. Elsa reached for the gash on her forehead and felt the dampness of blood on her fingers.
Elsa derided herself for her carelessness, lit a cabin lantern, and went to find a bandage for her cut. She was worried about her townspeople, who were undoubtedly terrified belowdecks. And what of Astrid? Kaatje was well now, but what was happening to her horribly ill cabin mate? If she could not help the sailors that battled to keep the Herald above water, she could certainly make herself useful with the Herald’s passengers. If nothing else, to spread calm and a little false cheer.
She fell again as the Herald crossed another mountainous wave. Outside, the wind sounded ferocious, taking on a low keening that spooked Elsa. Grasping one handhold and then another, she made her way to Peder’s trunk. By the light of the sputtering lamp, she pulled out an old pair of pants and a shirt. She laughed mirthlessly, feeling slightly hysterical about her plans.
In minutes she was dressed, and using a sash from a pretty party dress in her own trunk, she secured the waist of Peder’s pants by cinching them up. His shirt was huge on her, billowing out even though she had tucked as much of it in as possible. She looked through the tiny English armoire that was bolted to the bedroom wall, but could not find another oilskin coat. She would just have to brave the elements and dry off later.
Elsa looked out the window, waiting for the next huge wave to slam across the deck; after that she would have a few moments to cross the deck safely. Peder would not be pleased with her if he caught her on deck. But if he found her in the morning, caring for the passengers, he might be proud of her. She steeled herself for the rain and the wind and said a brief prayer as the next wave’s momentum pulled at her, threatening to send her flying again. She held steady.
“It’s now or never,” Elsa muttered. She turned the knob of the door, and the power of the wind took her breath away. It took all her strength to close the door behind her, and in seconds she was soaked. She blinked through the rain, trying to see across the deck, but between the howling wind that drove the stinging seawater into her eyes and the rain itself, she found herself momentarily blinded. Panicked, she realized that her time was running short. She had to cross the ten feet of deck now or be swept overboard by the next wave.
It was too late. Blindly, she tried to open the cabin door, thinking she would make an alternate plan. But try as she might, Elsa could not pry open the door against the fierce wind. Her heart sank. Squinting against the spray, she moved left, searching for a handhold on the mizzenmast nearby. When she found it, she held on tight, trying to catch her breath. It seemed as if the wind sucked the air from her lungs then threatened to blow her about since it could not rip at the furled sails above her. She looked up and was able to see rigging flying straight out from the stays. Sails ripped at weak seams and blew horizontally with the rain.
Sailors madly made their way about her, each uselessly shouting in the muffling winds. As the Herald climbed the next watery hill, she braced herself against the mast, holding onto the brass mast band. Were the men bracing for impact too? She could see little in the driving rain.
As the Herald climbed and climbed, Elsa felt weak and exposed. She would never make it standing there, she decided. She could barely hold on as it was. She needed to get to the passenger hatch. Immediately. Grasping at anything she could get hold of, Elsa clambered toward the door not ten feet from where she stood. Everything was wet and slippery, but she was almost there.
Suddenly the ship paused agonizingly on the crest of the wave. Then Elsa almost took a breath of relief as the wave came sweeping over the ship.
The power of it astounded her. Its watery tendrils ripped at her handholds until she could hold on no longer. Salt water rushed into her mouth and nostrils as she slid over the deck like a skater on ice. She coughed and sputtered and flailed about, trying to grab onto something … anything. The water was carrying her to the railing. Would it wash her overboard? A scream for Peder lodged in her throat, strangled by her lack of breath. On and on she went, sliding along the deck, caught in the wave’s mad dash back to the sea.
Elsa managed to grip the railing as the full weight of the wave pressed against her, threatening to drown her as it passed. Please! she cried out silently to God. I don’t want to die!
A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled against the sea, like David against Goliath. Elsa emerged, gasping for air, half-expecting to see Peder pulling her from her watery grave. She blinked as the man pulled her the rest
of the way out and to her feet. It was Karl.
He stared at her incredulously, looking her up and down. His barely visible Adam’s apple bobbed above his coat collar as he swallowed hard then pulled her into a protective, wet embrace. She succumbed, glad to feel safe for a moment after her perilous slide. Her chest heaved for breath. Karl’s body shielded her from the worst of the wind and rain.
“Come on!” he yelled over the wind’s unearthly howl. Taking her wrist firmly, he led her across the deck and to the passenger hatch she had originally sought, even as the Herald tilted upward again. He wrenched open the door and practically shoved her inside, then followed her.
“Grab hold!” he shouted as the Herald began her fall.
The ship careened to the bottom of the next watery valley and Elsa’s hands threatened to give way, but Karl reached out with one hand and grabbed her waistband, taking the brunt of her weight. When they were upright once more, he asked, “What were you doing out there, Elsa?” His exasperation was clear.
She raised her chin. “Trying to get here. I thought I could help the others.”
Karl scowled, looking her up and down again, leaving her with little dignity in Peder’s soaked, clinging clothes. “Good intentions will not keep you alive in the midst of a storm. You could have been killed! If I hadn’t seen you go with the wave, no one would have been there to pull you out. In another moment you would have been over the side.”
“Enough with the lecture, Karl. Do you not have something better to do?” Her face burned with embarrassment. She had risked his life as well as her own with her foolishness.
The muscles in his lower cheeks worked, as if physically holding back his fury. “I was coming for you to help Astrid. Her time has come. Eira’s been hurt in a fall.” He raised his hand toward her forehead then pulled it back before touching her. “Looks like you managed to hurt yourself too.”
“I am fine.”
Karl searched her eyes for a moment then said, “I’ll wait until you check on her and then go with a report to Kristoffer.”
Northern Lights Trilogy Page 9
