The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  Abigail laughed. “There’s your difficulty, then.”

  Hope raised her brows. “What do you mean?”

  “You cannot change in your own strength. The power to change comes only from God.”

  An odd rumble of thunder roared in the distance, and Hope scanned the clear horizon for the source. A crisp line of blue met her gaze. “Why would God help me?”

  Abigail laid a hand on Hope’s arm. “Because He loves you.”

  Loves me? Hope shook her head. Why would He love her when not even her own father did?

  “He will not only change your heart,” Abigail said, “but He will also cleanse it from all the filth of your past.”

  Hope’s breath halted in her throat. “As if I were pure?”

  “Not as if, but He will make you pure.” Abigail grinned and then raised her face to the sky as if adoring this God of hers.

  A gust of chilly air struck them, and Abigail shivered. Her brow furrowed as she glanced across the sea, but all Hope could think about was the girl’s last statement. “Pure? How?”

  “You have only to repent of your past and ask God to cleanse you, to change you, and then make Him your Lord.”

  Hope swallowed. “Seems too easy.”

  “It is a free gift.”

  The warm rays of the sun dissipated, and Hope looked up to see a massive black cloud slide over the shining orb.

  Abigail snorted. “Odd. The skies were clear a moment ago.”

  “I hope a storm is not on the way.”

  Abigail stared at her. Concern clouded her eyes. “I fear one is brewing indeed.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Nathaniel teetered on the topgallant yard, trying to keep his mind on his work and not on the lovely vision of Miss Hope standing below on the deck. But his eyes kept roving her way. And when they did, his palms grew sweaty, his head grew light, and his concentration went flying off with the hot, humid wind that blasted over him. Why did she have to look so beautiful? With her hair combed and pinned atop her head in a bouquet of glittering gold and that blue gown flowing in delicate folds about her feet, every man on the ship stared agape at her.

  Salacious wretches.

  After he had rocked her to sleep, he’d lain back on his bed and tried to quiet his rapid breathing and thumping heart and relax his taut muscles, but when dawn peeked in through the porthole, slumber still had not found him. Rather than staring at Hope sleeping like an angel, he had slipped from the cabin and done the only thing he could think to do to quiet the tormenting emotions within him.

  He had worked. And he had worked hard.

  Now after hours of the sun beating down on him and the sweat streaming off him, he still felt the press of her curves against him and smelled her feminine scent. His muscles ached and exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyelids, but the tumult inside him had not weakened. It had only grown stronger.

  For all his efforts, he could not shake her sad tale from his mind. Her purity had been stolen when she was a mere child. By a trusted relation. And from what Nathaniel knew of her father, she had received no comfort or support from him. ’Tis no wonder she harbored such a low opinion of herself—an opinion that drove her to seek love and acceptance in the arms of whoever offered it. And he had judged her for it.

  “Loose topgallants. Clear away the jib!” The command was bellowed from below, and Nathaniel worked to loosen the topgallant sail alongside the other men, while his thoughts drifted to his past. Had his mother suffered a similar tragedy in her youth? If so, she had never shared it with him. And he had judged her as well.

  Some man of God he was.

  Yet the sting of his past, the stain of his mother’s profession would not leave him. Indeed, they fueled his resentment toward Hope. Regardless of the reason for her actions, Nathaniel would not pursue his feelings for her. For surely a match between them would only bring them both pain.

  “Let go topgallant chewlines, lee braces. Let fall!” The men dropped the topgallant sail, and it began flapping in the wind. Easing across the yard, Nathaniel followed the others down into the shrouds and then climbed onto the ratlines and jumped, thudding to the deck below.

  The sail caught the wind with a jaunty snap, and Nathaniel dared a glance toward Hope. With head bowed, she stared at the water, immersed in an intense conversation with Abigail. Captain Poole’s gaze locked upon Abigail.

  Turning, Nathaniel leaned upon the railing, taking in a deep breath of sea air. No matter what he felt, he would not give his heart to a woman who could not help but stomp on it as soon as the next man paid her any attention. He must be strong. He rubbed the sweat from the back of his neck. Surely this was a test from God—one he intended to pass.

  “Nathaniel.” Gavin’s worried tone jarred him as the man clapped him on the back. “You’ve been working too hard.”

  “It keeps my mind occupied.”

  “And off of what? Or should I say whom?” Gavin grinned and glanced toward Hope. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Although I daresay she does look rather fetching in that gown.”

  Nathaniel grimaced and wondered if he should give his friend his blessing to pursue Hope, but a twisting in his gut forestalled the words.

  Gavin smirked. “How, pray tell, did you fare playing the part of her husband last night?”

  Thunder rumbled, drawing Nathaniel’s gaze out to sea where no evidence of a storm revealed itself. “She was asleep when I retired.”

  “Ah, ’tis the way of those long married, I’m told.” Gavin chuckled, then grew serious. “If you have no interest in her, I should like to pursue her myself, that is, if you don’t mind.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “You are free to do as you wish. And so is Miss Hope.” His insides twisted into a knot so tight he doubted it would ever come undone.

  “Splendid.” Facing the main deck, Gavin leaned his elbows back upon the railing. “Sink me, but Captain Poole seems an odd excuse for a pirate.”

  “Hmm.” Nathaniel wished his cheerful friend would depart. He was in no mood for idle chatter at the moment. Not when his insides felt like a grenade about to explode.

  “Not only is he quite taken with Miss Sheldon,” Gavin continued, “a missionary, no less, but he refused my offer to join his crew.”

  Nathaniel blinked and stared at him. “You wish to become a pirate?”

  “Why not?” He crossed one foot over the other and grinned, his eyes alight with mischief. “A life of adventure, freedom, and riches.”

  “Then I do mind if you court Miss Hope.” Nathaniel’s tone was more caustic than he intended.

  Gavin cocked his head and gave him a curious look. “Why?”

  “I do not wish to see her associate with pirates.”

  “Then you do care for her?”

  “No more than any other woman.” Nathaniel winced beneath his lie but then gazed at his friend, worried for the dangerous path he so casually pursued. “There is more to life than riches, Gavin. And even so, ’tis the way in which these men gain their wealth. Governor Rogers of New Providence has vowed to rid the Caribbean of all pirates who refuse the king’s pardon. Do you want to lose your life at the end of a noose? Do you want to be labeled a thief, a brigand?”

  “I do not mind dying, if I have truly lived.” The sails rumbled overhead as the ship veered to larboard, and Gavin drew in a breath of sea air. “Besides, I care not for the opinions of others.”

  Nathaniel rubbed his eyes against the pull of exhaustion even as a heavy weight hung upon his heart for his friend. But one thing rang true: Gavin did not concern himself with the judgment of men. A good quality, to be sure, and one that grated over Nathaniel’s conscience for his lack of it. Why did he care so much about what society and men of good breeding thought of him? “You have not truly lived, my friend, until you have known God.”

  Gavin grunted.

  The sun’s rays disappeared, giving Nathaniel a welcome relief from the heat. But when he glanced up, a dark cloud hovered over the ship.

/>   Gavin followed his gaze. “I hope we are not in for another tempest.”

  Nathaniel scanned the horizon. Clear and bright. “No, this is something different.” Something worse, he feared. He glanced toward Abigail, and her gaze locked upon his in understanding. Hope remained by her side. But what of the others? “Are Mr. Hendrick and his daughter still below?”

  “Aye, I believe so.” Gavin turned around and faced the sea. “The man wasn’t feeling well. And when I offered to escort Miss Elise to see Hope or Abigail, he wouldn’t allow it.”

  Nathaniel stepped away from the railing. “I shall see to them. And bring the major some food. I doubt Captain Poole will give a care to provide for the man.”

  The features of Gavin’s face pinched. “I cannot fathom it.”

  “Fathom what?”

  “That you would concern yourself with the major’s welfare after all he’s done. He would have killed you if he’d had the chance. Yet you saved his life and now bring him food.”

  “God tells us to love our enemies.” Nathaniel headed toward the companionway.

  Gavin snorted behind him. “Pure rubbish.”

  ***

  Hope paced across the tiny cabin. When she realized she’d picked the habit up from Nathaniel, she smiled. Where was he? Halting, she stood on tiptoe and peered out the oval window. After her discussion with Abigail, thick black clouds had consumed the entire sky, casting a shroud of darkness on the sea and the ship. Yet not a drop of rain had fallen. Even Captain Poole proclaimed he’d seen naught like it in all his days. An odd sense of foreboding had driven Hope below deck to the safety of the cabin she shared with Nathaniel, although she was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t taken residence elsewhere. She couldn’t blame him—not after she’d kept him up half the night with her nightmare.

  Abigail had come by, and they had shared a light supper of hard biscuit and plantains. Then she had dashed off to meet with Captain Poole and answer his questions about God. Hope feared for her safety, but Abigail would not be persuaded to stay.

  Hope wiped mist from the window. Night had fallen, and the sky matched the inky water. Not a speck of starlight or a wisp of moonlight broke through the thick blanket of clouds. The ship floated through a dark void, which had engulfed the world and was now trying to engulf her.

  Dread gripped her heart, and she gazed at the door, longing to go above and find Nathaniel, but not wanting to risk wandering the darkened deck on a ship full of pirates. Why was she suddenly so frightened? The lantern flickered, though not a breath of air stirred in the cabin, and Hope flopped onto her bed and dropped her head into her hands.

  Abigail’s assurances would not let her mind rest. God could make her pure. Wasn’t that what she’d been seeking all this time, to be made pure again? To be a real lady? She had tried so hard to achieve it on her own, but all her attempts had ended in failure.

  She may have lost any chance of gaining Nathaniel’s admiration, but if God could truly make her pure and help her to behave with propriety, perhaps she could still gain the respect of her community and open an orphanage when she returned to Charles Towne.

  Should she dare speak to the Almighty? Fear struck her. Thunder roared outside, shaking the ship and sending a shudder through her. Surely she was not worthy. Surely He would either ignore her, laugh at her, or strike her dead.

  “ I love you, beloved.”

  Hope wiped the tears from her eyes and glanced around the cabin. She had heard the words as clearly as if someone had spoken them—yet she hadn’t heard them at all.

  “ You are precious to me.”

  Precious to God? Then she remembered the fever and how Nathaniel and Abigail told her God had healed her . God had healed her. Perhaps He did love her, after all.

  Falling to her knees beside the bed, Hope sobbed. “O God, help me.”

  ***

  A silent yet imperative voice made Nathaniel wince. He clutched the railing and turned to Abigail, who’d come to see him for counsel before she met with Captain Poole. “Did you say something?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes widened, and she gazed across the deck as if she, too, had heard a voice.

  Pirates clustered in groups drinking rum and playing cards. A crowd on the foredeck joined in a ribald ballad. The sails hung limp and lifeless upon the yards. Though black clouds churned above them, not a wisp of a breeze stirred the air or ruffled the dark sea.

  The ship floated, lifeless, as if it had drifted into a dark cave.

  “What did you hear?” Abigail laid her hand on his arm.

  “Pray.” Nathaniel swallowed. “I heard ‘pray,’ and then my thoughts swept to Hope.”

  Abigail nodded. “Then we should.” She squeezed his arm and bowed her head, and Nathaniel followed suit. Several minutes passed as they made their appeals to God for Hope and for the safety of the ship. When Nathaniel lifted his gaze to Abigail’s, alarm sped through him. “I should go see her.”

  “Nay.” Abigail shook her head, her wide hazel eyes flickering in the light of the lantern hanging from the mast. “Leave her be. She’s in God’s hands now.”

  ***

  A frigid wall of air enveloped Hope, and she hugged herself and rose, dabbing at her moist cheeks. “Is someone there?” She peered into the shadows beyond the lantern, sensing a presence. Yet the door remained closed, and she had heard no one enter.

  Thunder roared through the ship, shaking the hull, and Hope sank to her knees onto the hard deck. “God, if You’re there, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the things I’ve done.” She lowered her head, ashamed, waiting for the lightning to strike her, but an eerie silence ensued. Only the creak of the ship sounded, accompanied by her own rapid breathing.

  A blast of cold air circled her, stealing the breath from her throat. Her heart thumped wildly.

  No one loves you. You’re not worthy of God’s love.

  Hideous laughter cackled in her ears, and tears filled her eyes anew, dropping to her gown in blotches.

  Clunk. Clank. Crash!

  The noise sent Hope bolting to her feet. The lantern had fallen to the deck. Dashing toward it, she snatched it up before the flame could set anything afire. Instead it flickered out. Darkness swallowed her.

  Groping her way to the table, she set down the lantern, her breath catching in her throat. The ship had not moved, and no wind strong enough to make the lantern fall had swept through the cabin.

  “Who’s here?” Terror squeezed her heart. She gripped her throat.

  No sound save the tiny creak of the ship.

  As she backed away, Hope struck the bedpost and whimpered in pain, then crumpled to the deck. “If You’re angry with me, God, I don’t blame You.” She could barely squeeze the words from her constricted throat. “But please, if You find it in Your heart to forgive me, like Abigail says You will”—the invisible hand loomed near her windpipe, threatening to tighten its grip, but she forced her words out in a mad rush—“to forgive me and help me change, to be better, then I beg You, please make me Yours.”

  Instantly, warmth covered her. A weight fell off her as if an anchor she’d been holding had been cast into the sea. She began to shake. Tears streamed down her face. A tiny ray of light pierced the darkness of the cabin. Hope dashed toward the window and peered out. The black clouds drifted away, revealing myriad stars sparkling against the night sky. A half moon splashed its silver light onto the sea in glimmering ribbons.

  Hope smiled as she gazed across the stunning scene. God loved her. He loved her. When no one else truly had: not her father, or her mother, or even Lord Falkland. She knew in that instant that God had always loved her—even when she had gone astray. A tingling swept through her like a brush scrubbing away the filth, the impurity, the stains of her past. Like a baby dove nestled beneath her father’s wings, she felt cherished and safe and clean for the first time in her life.

  CHAPTER 30

  Tap, tap, tap. Abigail rapped on the door to Captain Poole’s cabin and tried to
quiet her hurried breathing as well as the thunderous beat of her heart. Rustling sounded from within, and she almost turned and dashed down the narrow hallway. But his “Enter” blared over her, keeping her from fleeing. Clicking the latch, she took a deep breath and pushed the door ajar.

  “Ah, Miss Sheldon, how good o’ ye to come.” Captain Poole rose from his chair, straightened his black velvet waistcoat, and wove around his desk to greet her.

  “Come in. Come in. I won’t bite ye.” He chuckled and, taking her by the elbow, led her to a stuffed leather chair.

  He closed the door with an ominous thud, and Abigail swallowed, once again wondering about the sanity of agreeing to meet with this pirate alone in his quarters. She sensed his gaze upon her and met it, and she shivered beneath his sensuous perusal that ran over her as if she were a treasure chest filled with gold.

  As if reading her mind, he smiled. “Ye’ve naught to fear from me, miss.” But his voracious expression spoke otherwise.

  Tearing her thoughts from their dangerous bent, she set her Bible on her lap and scanned the cabin, twice as large as the one she stayed in. A large desk stood guard before windows that stretched the width of the stern. Charts, quill pens, and a quadrant littered the top, as well as a half-full bottle of rum, a cutlass, and two pistols.

  Two high-backed leather chairs flanked the desk, one of which she occupied. And those, along with the desk and its chair, made up the only furniture in the room, save the bed built into the bulwarks on the starboard side. Before the bed, a cannon—at least an eighteen pounder—stood with its muzzle pointed toward a closed gun port, reminding Abigail what type of man she found herself alone with. His gaze remained fixed upon her. She drew a breath to stifle the shudder that ran down her back and looked anywhere but back into those dark, probing eyes.