Forsaken Dreams

by Marylu Tyndall

  As Eliza made her way through the crowd to the railing for a better look, people scattered as if she had malaria. Spiteful glances and foul words shot her way, but she did her best to ignore them. Swallowing the emotion burning in her throat, she drew a deep breath of air filled with life and tropical flowers, while the captain issued orders for the crew to begin repairs.

  “It should take no more than two days,” he shouted to the passengers. “Two days to stretch your legs upon the shores and replenish our water supply.”

  This turned everyone around to face him, including Eliza. Her gaze immediately shifted to Blake standing beside the captain. No longer looking like a drowned rat from the storm or even a military man, he appeared more like a hardened sailor as he stood, boots spread apart, on the swaying deck, black hair in wild disarray, arms crossed over his chest, and necktie flapping in the wind. His eyes grazed over her for a second. A mere second in which she no longer saw hatred. Dare she hope?

  “We need everyone’s help,” the captain continued, “to search for edible fruits, coconuts, and freshwater.”

  “I know this island well.” Parson Bailey’s voice rose in excitement. “I was sent here as a missionary several years ago.” His beady eyes shifted over the crowd as if seeking approval. “I can find water and food. Just send me ashore with some men and barrels. I know where to look. There’s also a settlement across the island. Roseau, I believe. We can buy supplies there.”

  “We must save our money to purchase land and tools in Brazil,” Blake said, his tone begging no argument.

  The parson shrugged.

  James nodded his agreement. “We’ll have to live off what we have left in the hold and whatever we can scavenge from the island for the remainder of the journey.”

  Mr. Jenkins, one of the farmers, placed an arm around his wife and their young daughter and held them close. “But you tossed over my crate of farming implements.”

  “And my trunk of pots and pans,” a rather robust lady declared.

  “And my chest of gowns!” Magnolia sobbed from the edge of the crowd where she stood between her parents. Gazes shot her way, whispers hissing through the air. Ever since she’d made a besotted spectacle of herself, her parents had kept her close.

  “What am I to do without them?” she continued to wail.

  “Zooks, how will you survive with only five gowns?” Hayden chuckled, drawing her viper stare.

  “I only have two left, if you must know.” She gave him a petulant look.

  “You won’t have much need for them in Brazil.” Angeline wove through the crowd to stand beside Eliza.

  Hayden’s and James’s gazes followed her as did most of the men’s, including Mr. Dodd’s.

  The captain cleared his throat. “My apologies for bein’ forced to lighten the load, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  “No apologies necessary, Captain.” Blake gave the man an approving nod. “We owe you our lives.”

  One of the men jerked a thumb at Eliza. “I say we leave the Yankee on the island.”

  Words of agreement rang from both passengers and crew. All except Angeline, James, and thankfully, Blake.

  “Aye,” Max, the boatswain, added. “She can catch the next ship back to the States.”

  “The parson said there’s a settlement on the other side of the island,” a woman offered.

  The blacksmith stepped forward. “We can return her money, and she can purchase passage home.”

  Their words twisted a cord around Eliza’s stomach until she worried the breakfast she’d consumed earlier would reappear.

  More agreements zipped through the air. Angeline squeezed Eliza’s hand and tried to shout above the clamor, but it was James’s voice that stopped them. “We cannot leave a woman alone in the midst of untold dangers.”

  “It’s more than she deserves.” Dodd gave her a malignant grin.

  Moses, his sister, and her children clung to each other on the other side of the ship, their wide eyes blaring a concern for Eliza that their lips dared not voice.

  Her gaze shot to Blake. She wondered if he would say anything. But he simply stood there, eyeing the mob and rubbing his chin. Finally, he spoke. “She stays with us. No matter what she’s done, we cannot abandon her to die.”

  Eliza released a breath.

  “Why not?” a sailor spoke up. “We should let God decide, shouldn’t we, Parson?”

  Parson Bailey gripped his Bible and forced piety onto his face. ,“‘Vengeance is mine … sayeth the Lord.’”

  “I say she’s bad luck!” one of the farmers shouted. “Ever since she came on board, we been attacked by a frigate, the first mate got injured, and now we been hit by a storm.”

  Mr. Lewis teetered through the mob, swirling the scent of alcohol in his wake. “Ah, let her stay. She’s a good woman. We all need a fresh start.” Clipping his thumbs in his suspenders, his kind eyes met hers. She smiled in return, wondering if the drunken carpenter would be the only man to speak up for her.

  “Leave her here!” the blacksmith yelled.

  “But she’s our nurse!” Sarah spoke from the hatchway, where she emerged onto the deck. “We need her.” Her eyes locked with Eliza’s.

  “James can handle things. He’s a doctor.”

  Eliza’s harried gaze sped to Blake. As leader of the expedition, wasn’t the decision his? Surely, he would demand that she stay and order the mob to silence. Instead, he faced the captain and uttered the words that sealed her fate. “This is your ship and your decision.”

  Her heart plummeted.

  Captain Barclay scratched his salt-encrusted hair. “In truth, I ain’t so sure that she didn’t bring all this bad luck on us. Besides, her presence here only causes trouble. And I don’t need no more trouble, if you know what I mean.”

  Blake studied the captain, a stunned look on his face as if that was the last thing he expected the man to say. “How can a woman traipse through the jungle alone to Roseau without getting mauled by some animal, attacked by natives, or dying from exposure?”

  “I’ll send a sailor with her. Max”—Captain Barclay pointed to the boatswain—“you can get Mrs. Crawford to Roseau in a day and get back before we sail, can’t you?”

  “Aye. Gladly.” He grinned as his eyes absorbed her.

  “No. You can’t do this.” Angeline’s tone bordered on hysterical.

  “I agree.” Sarah gazed up at the captain. “It’s inhumane.”

  “I protest too,” James added. “Even if she makes it, even if she manages to barter voyage on a ship, she’ll still be in danger sailing unescorted.”

  Blake shook his head and clenched the railing until his knuckles whitened.

  “You gave me the decision, Colonel,” the captain said, “and this is what I say. For the good of the voyage and all aboard.”

  Blake’s eyes met hers. “Then allow me to escort her.”

  The captain waved a hand. “I need you here to organize your people to search for food. Max will do.”

  “But Captain”—Blake’s suspicious gaze took in Max—“you might as well sentence her to death.”

  Captain Barclay’s jaw stiffened as he surveyed the mob and then glanced at Eliza. “Very well. Let’s put it to a vote then. Those in favor of leaving Mrs. Crawford, or whatever her name is, on Dominica with provisions and money, say, ‘Aye.’”

  Ayes blared across the ship like trumpets.

  CHAPTER 15

  Eliza dug her toes into the black sand, allowing the grains to cover her feet, enclosing them in a warm cocoon. She wished she could do the same with her entire body—bury herself right there on the beach, hide away from everyone on board the New Hope, everyone who hated her. Everyone who would rather see her dead than spend another minute with her.

  New Hope, indeed.

  New hope for everyone but her.

  Gentle waves the color of glistening turquoise stroked the shore as a myriad of brightly plumed birds warbled happy melodies from waving palm and plumeria t
rees. A balmy breeze soothed her face and frolicked among her curls. All traitors to the angst roiling within her. As soon as Max finished his duties, he would escort her through the jungle to the city of Roseau, where she would supposedly barter passage aboard a merchant ship heading to the United States.

  Alone.

  Alone, ostracized, forsaken. Once again.

  Tugging the chain around her neck, she pulled out the locket her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday and opened it. Her mother’s face stared back at her, so graceful, so beautiful. Eliza ran a finger over the lock of hair. “Oh Mama, I miss you so. I need you. If only you hadn’t died, maybe Papa would have been more reasonable. Maybe he wouldn’t have suffocated me with his rules. You always had a way of soothing his dour moods.” Yet the more she stared at the tiny portrait, the more it reflected her own image. Not only did Eliza look like her mother, but she’d been told they were alike in many other ways. No wonder her father sought so desperately to protect her. He couldn’t bear to lose her mother all over again. But in the end, Eliza had caused his worst nightmare to come true.

  A wayward tear coursed down her cheek, cooled by the wind. She wiped it away. She would not give these people the satisfaction of seeing her sorrow. Her devastation. Not that anyone paid her any mind.

  Laughter drew her gaze down shore where several passengers gathered coconuts while the children played tag with the crashing waves. Dark sand—formed by a volcano, one of the sailors had told her—spread a blanket of shimmering onyx across the beach. Dodd sat on a fallen tree, speaking to one of the farmer’s wives. Mr. and Mrs. Scott, Magnolia between them, sat beneath the shade of a mango tree while Mable waved a palm frond above their heads. After their sorrowful parting, Angeline had joined a group scouring the jungle for bananas and other fruit. Sarah wasn’t feeling well and had stayed on board. And true to his word, Parson Bailey and six sailors had headed off into the jungle, barrels hoisted on their shoulders, in search of freshwater.

  Blake, James, Hayden, and some of the other men had grabbed axes and swords and disappeared into the tangle of green looking for wild boar the parson said inhabited the island.

  “Blake,” she whispered. Despite her aching heart, just saying his name made her smile. He had stood up for her. And James had as well. She was grateful for that, even though now they seemed to have all but forgotten her.

  But how could she blame them?

  “Oh Lord, I’ve made a mess of things again.” Snapping her locket shut, she let it dangle down the front of her bodice then picked up a shell and tossed it in the water. “I should have asked whether it was Your will that I join this venture. Instead, I just forged ahead, giving no thought to the consequences.” As usual.

  “Praying, Mrs. Crawford?”

  Eliza jumped at the voice and turned to see Moses, Delia, and her two children approaching. The young man—about twenty years of age—towered over his sister by at least a foot, but the woman made up for the discrepancy in the width of her hips. Hips that had born the precious boy and girl now grinning at Eliza as if she were a princess. Joe and Mariah, if she remembered correctly. She looked into Moses’ kind eyes. “Yes, it seems the only recourse left to me.”

  “An’ a good recourse it be, missus. God loves t’ answer His children’s prayers.”

  “Let’s hope so, Moses.”

  “Hope you don’t mind de interruption.” Moses tore off his hat. “But Delia an’ I want to say good-bye proper an’ thank you for your kindness to us on board de ship.”

  Delia smiled. “You ne’er had a bad word to say ‘bout us, missus, an’ you heped my Joey when he got sick.”

  Eliza struggled to rise against her confounded crinolette, but finally stood and shielded her eyes from the sun. “There’s been far too much damage, far too much heartache inflicted on your people. It is enough. You are free and should be treated as equals.”

  “‘Fraid dat’s gonna take some time to come about, missus.” Moses fumbled with his floppy hat.

  Eliza sighed. “I fear you are right.”

  Giggles from the other children drew the longing gazes of both Mariah and Joseph. Moses frowned and released a sigh. “Seems to me, you be getting a taste of how we feel.”

  Eliza glanced at the people gathering food downshore and then over at the ship where the cadence of hammer and saw filled the air. Mr. Graves, in his usual black attire, stood at the railing. Even from a distance, she could feel his dark gaze boring into her.

  Outcast. Ignored. Belittled. Yes, she did have an inkling of how it felt to be a Negro. All except for the shackles, of course. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could think to say.

  Moses nodded and slapped his hat atop his head. “Godspeed to you, missus.”

  “We wish you well,” Delia added, lowering her gaze.

  “And you.” Eliza knelt before young Joe. “Now, you take care of your mama, young man, and your sister here.”

  The little boy smiled.

  After they left, Eliza scanned the beach for any sign of Max, but he was nowhere in sight. She glanced at the sun nearing its zenith. Surely he hadn’t forgotten her. Not by the way his lecherous grin had raked over her when the captain had assigned him the task of taking her across the island. Despite the heat of the day, Eliza shivered at the memory. Perhaps God was giving her a chance to escape the clutches of the unsavory sailor. Oh fiddle! Why had she not thought of that? She should leave now, head out without him. Surely it would be better to die alone in the jungle than take her chances with a man she hardly knew. Swinging about, she slipped on her shoes, plopped her bonnet atop her head, and gathered her valise.

  She cast one last glance at the passengers on the beach, the children playing in the surf. No sign of Blake. She had hoped he would come to say good-bye—that despite the captain’s orders, he would insist on taking take her to Roseau himself. But she’d clung to silly dreams her entire life. Perhaps it was time to forsake them and grow up. Turning, she raised her chin and plunged into the web of green.

  Blake hacked a trail through the thick greenery, thankful the Yankees hadn’t taken his service sword. He and this sword had fought many a battle together, and it had saved his life more than once. He couldn’t imagine wrestling against a foe, or these tangled vines, without it.

  Ahead of him Hayden trounced through the forest, hefting a machete. The other men had separated in order to cover more space. All except James whose heavy breaths sounded from behind Blake. Entering the jungle from the breezy beach had been akin to flinging oneself into a fiery furnace. The deeper they went, the hotter that furnace became. Moisture dripped from leaves and branches and puddled around shallow, snaking roots. The air, quiet and dank, barely stirred by their passing. Yet the jungle was anything but silent. Life teemed in buzzing and chirping and croaking all around them. It saturated the air with the smell of damp earth and sweet flowers. But Blake didn’t care. He was thirsty, hot, and his leg burned. None of which was the reason for his foul mood.

  Raising his sword, he sliced through a thick vine, releasing the anger that burned a hole in his heart. Sending a lady alone on a sea voyage. It was unheard of. It was cruel! With no one to stand up for her and protect her, anything could happen. He’d heard how most sailors talked. He knew how lonely they were after months at sea. The presence of a beautiful woman on board could cause them to do things they’d never consider otherwise.

  James came alongside him. Stripped to the waist, sweat glistened on his chest and dampened his hair. His gaze scoured the ground, looking for pig droppings. Whatever they looked like. Yet, James seemed to know. He’d borrowed a pistol from one of the passengers, ready to shoot a boar as soon as they spotted one. Blake doubted they would. They’d been searching for two hours and had seen nothing but monkeys and parrots and iguanas. In front of them, Hayden halted, drank from a canteen, then passed it their way.

  Blake took a swig. “There must be something we can do.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Eliza?
” James dragged a handkerchief across his neck and tipped the canteen to his mouth.

  Blake nodded as squawking drew his gaze upward. A green parrot, with a red band around his neck, paced back and forth across a branch as if trying to tell them something.

  Taking back the jug from James, Hayden grunted.

  “I understand people’s anger, I do.” Blake planted the tip of his sword in the dirt. “Blast it, I’m angry at her too. My entire family was killed by Yankees. We’ve all lost someone. But this. It’s wrong.”

  “She’ll be all right.” Hayden stared at him with eyes the same color as their surroundings, eyes that harbored no sympathy. “She’s bad luck. The sooner she’s gone the better.”

  “Bosh! It’s murder, pure and simple.” Blake ground his teeth together. “We can’t know that she will arrive safely in Charleston. What difference does it make if she spends another month with us and then returns safely with Captain Barclay?” By the way Max looked at Eliza, Blake couldn’t be sure she’d even arrive in Roseau unscathed. Though the captain had reassured him of such.

  “She’s not bad to look at, I’ll give her that.” Hayden corked the canteen and swung it around his shoulder. “But she is a Yankee by marriage, and has no business coming on this journey.”

  “She shouldn’t have deceived us.” James gazed up at the parrot that was still squawking above them. “But in truth, her sympathies don’t lie with the North.”

  “Once a Yankee, always a Yankee.” Hayden hefted his machete and stomped away.

  Blake shook his head. He should let her go. Eliza had brought this on herself. But something inside him refused to loosen the knot she had on his heart. A knot that had formed during moments they had shared these past weeks, the things he’d told her that he’d told no one else, the care he’d seen in her eyes. Was it all a ruse? Had she used him for comfort, for companionship, all the while knowing she was his mortal enemy? Anger simmered in his belly at her deception. Still, Yankee or not, she didn’t deserve this.

  “All we need do is convince everyone else that her nursing skills are indispensable,” James said, mischief twinkling in the corner of his eyes. “If their own safety is at risk, they’ll allow her to stay—I guarantee it.”