"I demand to know what has been going on here," she cried. Then she saw Derek's boots, carelessly tossed on the floor beside the bed, and his shirt lying nearby. In anguish she whispered, "Julie, no. Don't tell me you and the captain were..." She could not bring herself to speak the actual words.
Julie felt herself reddening as she groped in her trunk for a dress. What could she say? Denial was futile. Finally she croaked out an apology. "I'm sorry you had to know."
"I... I thought you loathed him," was all her mother could think of to say. "I never dreamed this was going on."
Julie finished dressing, then went to where her mother had sunk down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, Julie reached up and clasped her mother's trembling hands. She attempted to explain herself. "Mother, I did loathe him at first, but he's so tender and loving. Oh, how can I tell you what's happened to me? I don't even understand it myself. I can't describe it. I know it's wrong, but I'm helpless."
"Dear Lord." Her mother swayed. "Julie, you aren't falling in love with him, are you? Oh, please say that you aren't."
It was a long time before Julie could answer. "I haven't thought about it." And it was true. She hadn't, not till now, when her heart began to pound tremulously at the idea. Did she love him? Was that the reason her body could not deny him and came awake so easily beneath his touch?
No. It wasn't possible. Especially when he'd made it clear she was merely a woman to take his pleasure with whenever he felt the need. He would never offer her more than the degrading status of being his mistress. He'd certainly given her no hint that she could ever possess his heart. What they shared was passion, lust, pleasure—nothing more. It would be foolish to think their coupling meant anything else.
Not wanting to discuss it further, Julie got to her feet. "I have to know what's going on out there." She ran out of the cabin, down the hall, and scurried up the steps. Her mother called to her frantically to return, warning her there might be danger, but she paid no heed. For not only was she running to find out whether there was going to be an attack, she was also running away from something she was not ready to face or think about.
The upper deck was in a state of confusion as crewmen scurried about loading guns and stacking ammunition. The air was tense, strained, and no one so much as glanced her way as she moved to where Derek and his three officers stood on the bridge. Derek peered through a long, cylindrical instrument with one eye; his other was squeezed shut. Julie assumed it must be a telescope, though she'd never seen one before.
He barked with authority to no one in particular, "Tell the firemen to keep stoking the furnaces. We've got to move faster. That's a Yankee ship, and she's gaining on us. Hell, why didn't someone spot the bastards before now?"
"The fog," Mr. Garris answered nervously. "The watchman sounded the alarm as soon as he spotted it. I roused the crew, but as I told you, sir, when you weren't in your cabin, I had to look for you."
"Don't worry about that now," Derek snapped, turning to give him a black look. Then he saw Julie clinging to the railing, her face ashen with fright. "What the hell are you doing up here, woman? I told you to stay below. Watson, get her out of here."
Grover Watson clamped a firm hand on her arm, but she pulled away. "No. I've a right to know what's going on."
Derek walked over and towered above her, glaring down. "That Yankee cruiser out there is about a mile away, and they've spotted us. They're coming after us at full steam. We have no way of knowing how many guns they've got, so we've got to try and outrun them. If they capture us, they're going to find the cotton stashed below and other cargo that will prove we're a blockade runner. That means we're captured, Julie. If they decide to capture us, that is. They could just blow us to bits and sink us. So I want you to go below. If shells start flying, I don't want you hurt." He sucked in his breath after his verbal explosion.
Garris had hurried down to the engine room to urge the firemen to stoke faster and thus build up more speed. The other officers, and a man someone called a "pilot," looked away uncomfortably. They all turned to stare toward the pursuing Yankee steamer.
Derek reached for Julie's hand, which was cold and stiff. His eyes searched hers deeply, as though he were trying to convey some silent message, but she could only look up at him in confusion. He said, "Julie, this isn't the time or the place, but perhaps somehow you'll understand when I say I care what happens to you. I care! Now please, go below and stay with your mother. I'll let you know when the danger is past. Be the brave, courageous woman I know you're capable of being. The time for shriveling, helpless femininity has passed. We're at war."
She turned and fled, hurrying down to her cabin, heart and mind jumbled, dazed. He cared. What did that mean? Did he care about her as a woman, or was it merely concern for a passenger in his charge?
She did not know, but even with the tension surrounding them, as though the fog itself had crept up to consume them in its midst, Julie had found herself aroused by his closeness, the huskiness of his voice. The strength and power he exuded had made her want to melt into his arms once again, where she knew she would feel comforted and protected.
Her mother was waiting for her, face white with panic. "Did you find out anything?"
Julie told her all she knew. There was nothing to do but wait, and while her mother kept stealing curious, probing glances at her, Julie was grateful she asked no more questions about her relationship with Derek.
Perhaps a half hour passed, though it seemed much longer, before there was a loud pounding on the door. Julie hurried to answer, and found herself facing a crewman she'd never seen before. He was leaning on a crudely fashioned crutch, his leg bandaged in a splint.
Doffing his cap, he explained that he'd been sent by the captain. "My name's Duffy, and Captain Arnhardt said I was to come down here and sit with you ladies and try to keep you from gettin' too upset. I ain't no good topside nohow, not with this busted leg I got a few days ago when I fell from some riggings." He smiled nervously.
Grateful for the company, Julie waved him inside, saying, "Maybe you can tell us what's happening up there. It's agony not knowing."
He glanced nervously toward the round window. "The Yankees are gaining at a rapid speed. From what I heard some of the men say, they're bearing down on us with sail and steam, and they're sailing from the north, so they're making fast time. We're almost into the Bay of Bermuda, so we're actually trapped. It don't look good. Not at all!"
They heard the first shot, a whining sound, then an explosion. Julie and her mother screamed in unison, but Julie quickly recovered and cried, "Are we hit?"
"That one fell short. Now's the time for us to start firing back."
Another shot streaked through the sky. This one, Duffy said, fell about fifty feet short on the starboard side. The third, he figured, went straight over, close to the riggings. "They're shooting nine-inch shells from a Parrott gun, I'd say. Can't understand why the captain ain't shooting back."
More explosions, each one seemingly closer than the one before. Suddenly, with a lurch the ship began to slow its forward motion. Duffy swore and yelled, "I can't believe it. The captain must be hoisting a white flag. He ain't going to put up a fight."
He turned sharply to give Julie an accusing glare, his eyebrows knit tightly together. "There's a story going around about you and the captain... how you're sweet on each other. Must be on account o' you. He's scared you'll get killed."
"I'm going up there." Julie started to rise, but Duffy swiftly swung his crutch in an arc and blocked her path.
"Naw, you ain't goin' nowhere. I'm obeying orders no matter what, so don't make me crack you 'cross your head, Miss Marshal. You just sit tight."
He continued to hold the crutch across her bosom, and from the look on his face, she knew he would strike her if she attempted to move. She could do nothing but sit down and wait, praying that by some miracle, they had not been captured.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps. As three pairs of frightened, anxi
ous eyes turned toward the door, it swung open and Edsel Garris stood there, the hand twisted about the knob as white as his stricken face. "It's no use," he said in a rush. "We were taken by surprise. We couldn't outrun them, and they had bigger guns."
"You mean the captain just... gave up?" Julie blinked, stunned. As strong mentally as he was physically, Derek seemed like the type of man who would never back off from a fight.
"You haven't seen the size of that ship bearing down on us, Miss Marshal. We wouldn't have had a chance. The Ariane isn't a war ship. We've always been successful at navigating and slipping in and out of blockaded ports. We've always been able to outrun a suspicious ship at sea. This time, luck wasn't with us. We're better off taking our chances and letting them pull alongside and board. Maybe we can convince them we're merely a merchant ship. The men are dismantling the guns."
Duffy shifted his weight to his crutch and struggled to stand. He was beyond caring at the moment that he was out of fine in arguing with his commanding officer. "You don't think they'll search this damned ship? They'll find the guns and the cargo."
Garris withered him with a look. "That's a decision for the captain to make, not you. He's in command. You just stay here and keep the ladies here. There may be trouble if the captain doesn't like the way things are going once the Yankees come on board."
He stepped back into the hall and Julie tried to rise, but instantly felt the pressure of Duffy's crutch. "Please," she called out desperately. "I must speak with you privately."
Frowning, Garris nodded to Duffy, who reluctantly allowed her to hurry outside. When the door closed behind them, she whispered anxiously, "It's because of us, isn't it? I mean, is the captain giving up because he's afraid my mother and me would be hurt if there's a battle?"
Edsel Garris's smile was mocking. "Miss Marshal, when it comes to saving the Ariane, the captain wouldn't care if his own mother were on board. He's doing what he thinks is best for his ship. It has nothing to do with you, however close the two of you may have become in recent nights...." His voice trailed off meaningfully, and she was aware of the shadow of contempt that flashed across his face.
Duffy quickly slammed and locked the door when Julie was back inside the cabin. Her mother gasped as he pulled a pistol from inside his shirt. "Just relax," he snapped. "The captain told me to take care of you two, and if any Yankees come nosing around, I'll be ready."
He tucked the gun in his belt and hobbled over to a position where he could stand facing the door. Then he motioned for them to get up on the bed together, out of the line of fire.
The moments ticked by with agonizing slowness. They could hear distant voices, angry words, shouting. Then there was a shot, and another, and both Julie and her mother covered their ears as the sound of gunfire split the air and all hell seemed to be exploding above them.
There was nothing they could do but wait... trembling in terror as Duffy kept his eyes and gun trained directly upon the closed door.
After what seemed an eternity, heavy footsteps could be heard thudding downward. Julie and her mother clung together as they heard the doors being opened and closed up and down the hall.
"No one here," a man's voice snarled. "That man in chains said there were female passengers on board. They're bound to be in one of these cabins."
They watched as the doorknob turned slowly. A man in a dark blue uniform seemed to fill the doorway. Julie glimpsed his startled eyes for only a fraction of a second before Duffy fired his gun. The man screamed, clutched his stomach, and fell forward as blood poured between his fingers.
Another uniformed figure moved quickly to return the fire and Duffy slumped to the floor, his face blown away.
Julie's mother fainted, but her own terror was replaced by outrage. "You... you damned Yankee!" she screamed, struggling to push her mother's limp body away from her and scramble toward Duffy's gun upon the floor.
The man flung her backwards and pointed his still-smoking gun at her. "Don't try nothing, lady. I'd just as soon shoot you if I have to."
He stared at the body of his dead comrade, then walked over to where Duffy lay and turned him over on his back by kicking at him with his booted foot. Satisfied that the sailor was dead, he reached down and picked up his gun, stuck it inside the waist of his pants, then turned to give Julie a snaggle-toothed grin.
"Looks like you two wasted a whole lot of time and money getting your cotton through the blockade. We're confiscating the entire cargo."
"You have no right," Julie spat out angrily. "We're private citizens. I'm on my way to England to be married. You've no right to interfere."
"We got every right, seeing as how you ain't nothin' but blockade-runnin' Rebs. We done found the cargo, and we also found a man chained in a hold who told us the whole story. You're in big trouble, and the best thing for you to do is sit there and keep your mouth shut before you wind up in chains."
They had not noticed the man standing in the hallway, who had silently been taking in the conversation. When he stepped inside, the scowling sailor stiffened. By the man's dress, Julie took him to be an officer.
Expressionless, he looked at the two bodies lying in the slowly spreading pools of blood. Then he nodded to Julie and her mother with cool politeness. "I'm Captain Benjamin Guthrie. It seems we've experienced more unnecessary bloodshed."
"I have to know." Julie could contain herself no longer. "Captain Arnhardt... is he—"
"I told you to keep your mouth shut!"
Captain Guthrie gave the man a withering look, then snapped, "Will you put that thing away? I think you enjoy killing, McCredie."
"He shot Davis!" the other yelped defensively. "He would've shot me too."
The captain leaned over Julie's mother, eyebrows knit in concern. "She's just fainted, hasn't she?" Without waiting for a response from Julie, he turned to the crewman and told him to find some smelling salts. "And get some men down here to get rid of these bodies and clean up the mess."
To Julie he said, "In answer to your question, miss, Captain Arnhardt is very much alive. We've secured him, of course, but he was not one of the fatalities."
June offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving, then appraised the Yankee officer. His hair was the color of snow, and curled softly about his boyish-looking face. His eyes were the blue of the robin's egg. Though he looked quite effeminate almost to the point of being pretty, there was something in the shadowy eyes that told her he was not a man to be trusted—and not merely because he was the enemy.
The crewman returned with smelling salts, which Julie passed slowly beneath her mother's nose. Almost at once she raised her head, eyes fluttering open, body trembling.
Julie did not like the way she looked. "We have a servant traveling with us," she said to the officer. "Could she come and tend her, please? I'm worried about her. There's been so much stress...."
Her mother responded weakly. "I'll be all right, dear. Don't be concerned about me."
"Of course you may have your servant." Captain Guthrie turned to the other man and told him to fetch her at once. Then he faced them and said, "Please accept my apologies. I'm sorry you're involved in all of this, but no doubt you were aware of the possible danger you were in when you left your home on a blockade runner."
"I must know if we'll be allowed to continue on our way," her mother said quickly. "We mean you no harm. We're enroute to England, where my daughter, Julie, is to be married. And we were only trying to get our cotton out so it could be sold. We need the money to save our plantation. Please, surely you can understand our plight." She was furiously blinking her eyes to keep back tears.
The captain sighed, shaking his head. "Frankly, I don't know what to do with either of you. We must confiscate your cotton, of course, along with the entire cargo of this ship."
He started to say more, then glanced at the bodies and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I don't think this is the proper place for ladies to be at the moment. Suppose we move to the officers' dining room? I'll hav
e tea made, and we can talk there."
Julie wanted to go up on deck and find Derek, yet knew she would never be allowed to do so. She had no choice but to follow the Yankee officer and her mother.
Once they were seated at a table with steaming mugs of tea before them, Captain Guthrie explained that he knew all about them. "The man we found in chains—Harky, I believe his name is—was only too glad to tell us everything we wanted to know."
He smiled, almost insidiously, Julie thought, as he commented on how the Federal navy had been trying to catch Arnhardt. "And thanks to this fellow Harky, we're now aware of the routes the infamous Arnhardt used to slip in and out of our blockade. This is valuable information. We'll be taking immediate steps to reinforce these points.
"We also know," he continued, "that Arnhardt has been getting supplies into the Confederate ports: guns, ammunition, medical supplies. We know quite a bit, thanks to Harky. Needless to say, he'll be given his freedom in exchange for his cooperation. He quickly pledged allegiance to the North, and I think we have a very loyal seaman in our service."
Julie exploded, her fists pounding upon the table and making the mugs rattle. "The bastard! Derek left his fate up to me, and now I wish I'd had him killed. I'll never hold pity in my heart again. Every man who walks this earth has treachery in his bones...."
Her mother reached out to pat her hand in understanding. "We can't help the past, dear, but don't condemn all men because of one. Remember your brother—and your father... they were good men."
"Myles still is," Julie said tightly, not liking to speak of her brother in the past tense. She had the fleeting thought that she was grateful her mother did not know that her father was also capable of treachery—of another kind.
Captain Guthrie ignored Julie's outburst as he commented that one of the ship's officers had been killed. "I don't know his name. It was foolish of Arnhardt to resist our boarding. Needless bloodshed." He made a clucking noise with his tongue.
Julie's next words were forced out through the rolling, heaving fear within her. "What will you do with Captain Arnhardt?"
This Rebel Heart Page 8
