Against the Wind

by April Hill

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but I was specifically ordered to see you to your cabin.”

  “Please don’t be concerned, Mr. Turner. I’ll be quite safe here. My cabin is awash, and very uncomfortable. I am overcome with nausea when the ship is heaving about so.”

  Turner looked uneasy. “But…”

  “Please, Mr. Turner. I promise to stand right here by the hatchway, and if the weather becomes more violent, I’ll go below at once. I swear it.”

  Turner was obviously troubled, but he reluctantly agreed, glancing nervously back toward the quarterdeck. “All right, but please be careful, and should you see us coming upon a great swell, go below immediately. “

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. “Thank you, Mr. Turner. You’ve been very kind.”

  Turner blushed. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology for having been at least partially responsible for the unpleasant appointment you experienced with Mr. Johnson when we left Halifax on our outward journey—and later, of course, when–”

  Emily brushed away his concern. “Nonsense, Mr. Turner—John, if I may? All of what happened was my own doing, not yours. I have been rude this morning, attempting to take advantage of my…my acquaintance with the captain.”

  He bowed quickly. “Thank you, Miss…Emily. I appreciate that. Now, I need to return to the deck”

  “Of course! Please, go quickly. We don’t wish to irritate the captain. And would you please tell him that I’m very sorry for my outburst?”

  “Of course.”

  When Turner hurried aft to the quarterdeck, struggling against the rising wind, Emily turned and faced forward again, clinging to the edge of the hatch to keep her footing while she enjoyed a last moment with the cold sea spray on her face. Ahead, and as far as she could see, an endless wall of gigantic swells loomed on the horizon, and beneath her feet, the planks trembled as the bow rose and then and plunged down again into a deep trough of dark and foaming water.

  She ignored Mr. Turner’s wise warning and staggered forward with her hair blowing wildly, until she stood at the bow, thrilled with the sheer excitement of the ship’s movement. Edging closer to the rail, she kept one hand on either of the wooden projections she had heard called the knightsheads, and peered down at the swell of white water that churned and leapt beneath the bowsprit. The wind was shrieking through the lines of the vast, triangular jib above her head, and as another strong gust struck, the great sail billowed even tighter, booming so loudly that she threw her hands over her ears and laughed with delight.

  Suddenly, an enormous swell crashed directly over the starboard bow, hurling thousands of gallons of seawater across the forward deck. The Liza heeled over sharply, and as an impenetrable cloud of spray exploded in her face, Emily was washed off her feet and swept to the opposite side of the deck. She fought to regain her footing, and had nearly succeeded in grabbing the rail when another wave struck from behind her, pushing her over the gunwale like a toy. For several terrified seconds, Emily clung the freezing rail, screaming for help. And then, as her hold gave way, she plummeted helplessly to the waves below.

  It was Emily’s good fortune that Roberts witnessed her fall and called out man overboard at the top of his lungs. Even before Roberts could toss a canvas lifebuoy and rope over the side, Ethan was already shouting for the sails to be lowered. At his order, the man at the helm spun the wheel hard, until the great sails spilled their wind and the Liza hove to, wallowing without sail and rising and falling on the waves like a bobbing stick. Within moments, a search boat had been launched.

  The swells were high, but fairly smooth, and it wasn’t long before Emily’s red hair and waving arms were seen, appearing then disappearing again on a not too distant wave. The four men in the rescue boat pulled hard in her direction, while Ethan leaned over the stern, shouting unheard directions after them. Minutes later, frightened and cold beyond anything she had ever known, Emily was dragged swiftly aboard the longboat, and ferried back to the ship.

  Eight strong hands lifted Emily’s shivering body up the rope steps and onto the Liza’s quarterdeck, where Ethan was waiting. Emily trembled uncontrollably as he carried her below to his cabin and set her on her feet. Her teeth were chattering, and her skin was blue with cold.

  “Get these things off,” he ordered. Without waiting for her to comply, he pulled the sopping checked shirt over her head and yanked the woolen trousers down to her ankles. Too cold and stiff to help, it was all Emily could do to stand and shiver miserably in a puddle of icy water while Ethan stripped her naked. Then, throwing the sodden boy’s clothing aside, he whipped the heavy blanket from his bunk and wrapped her in it, then opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of brandy.

  “I despise strong spirits,” she said, pushing it away.

  McAllister poured a short glass of the amber fluid and handed it to her. “You liked them well enough last night. Just shut up and drink this.” When Emily sniffed the glass and shook her head violently, he pinched her nose between two fingers, pulled her head back, and forced the warm liquid down her throat. She coughed and tried to spit it out, but finally swallowed when he thumped her between the shoulder blades.

  “Do you feel warmer?”

  “No!” she snapped. “It’s disgusting. Just leave me alone!”

  Exasperated, angry, and still recovering from his own terror, McAllister yanked her across his lap, rolled the blanket up far enough to expose the lower portion of her still chilled buttocks, and began to smack as hard as he could with his bare hand. Startled, Emily howled in pain as each blow scalded her cold skin like a sudden shower of hot coals.

  “That hurt!” she wailed, kicking until her legs became entangled in the blanket. Ethan applied several final smacks, then dumped her on the bed, rolled her up again in the blanket, and spread another heavier blanket over her.

  “You’re lucky I don’t take the hide off you,” he grumbled, tucking the blankets securely around her.

  Emily put one hand underneath her sore bottom and yelped.

  “I think you did, you bastard!”

  Ethan sat down on the edge of the bunk and put his hand firmly across her mouth.

  “Emily, I’m warning you! You are in clear and imminent peril of receiving the kind of stupendous whipping you’ve never had in your life, and the exact likes of which you cannot possibly imagine! And it’s going to start if you say just one more word, do you understand? You’ve just nearly killed yourself, and as relieved as I am that you survived your own stupidity, I’m debating tossing you back over the side! Now, go to sleep, before I change my mind and strap your backside raw for frightening me like that!”

  Emily glared at him, doubting he’d do it, but to be on the cautious side, she wisely nodded her agreement. The brandy was having its effect on her now, and beneath the woolen blankets, she felt warm and flushed, and oddly peaceful. A minute later, her head fell to one side, and she was asleep.

  When she woke again, moonlight was flooding the cabin. With the storm over, the Liza was rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, now, over a series of wide, gentle swells. Behind her in the bed, Emily could feel Ethan’s chest pressing against her back, and his warm thighs beneath her own. His strong arms encircled her, his breath was soft on the back of her neck, and his hand cupped her breast as he slept. Emily sighed contentedly, brushed her cheek against his arm, and kissed his hand. When he stirred, she turned in his arms, delighted with the almost instant erection her movement brought about.

  McAllister turned onto his back and slipped both hands around Emily’s slender waist, pulling her astride him. Emily yelped with surprise and pleasure as he raised her slightly and thrust upward, hard. When she leaned forward to kiss him, the incredible sensation of fullness nearly took her breath away, and she moaned as he placed both hands on her hips and thrust again, moving deep inside her and pulling her fully onto his throbbing erection. Emily clasped her knees firmly around his body, and pushed down, groaning and sobbing as he moved inside her, faster, harder, and de
eper.

  Later, McAllister held her in his arms until she fell asleep again. And as she slept, he kissed the top of her and thanked God that she alive and in his bed, safe and warm, and a little bit drunk.

  When Emily woke, it was light, and Ethan was still in the cabin, working at his desk. She crawled from the bed and crept up behind him, kissing the back of his neck.

  “That won’t help,” he said mildly. “I’m still furious with you.”

  She slipped her tongue in his ear and moved it around sensuously. “You didn’t seem furious when you came to bed last night,” she murmured.

  “I was warming you,” he said, trying not to smile at the memory. “Nothing more. You mustn’t take such things too personally. I’d have done no less for any half-frozen ship mate.”

  “Indeed?” Emily said with a giggle. “Any ship mate?”

  He turned around in his chair to face her. “ I won’t have you taking any further advantage of your situation while on board, Emily, as you did yesterday.” His face was serious now, and Emily was confused at the sudden change in mood.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Yes, you do,” he said quietly. “You’re almost home, where you’ll remain, safe and sound. But this crew and I will sail together again, and I’ll need their respect. What I don’t need is a reputation as the sort of captain who shows favoritism to his…”

  Emily stood up, shocked. “His, what?”

  McAllister sighed. “His favorite cabin boy, all right?”

  Emily moved to the bed, and sat down. “Well, Captain McAllister, sir, you needn’t worry any longer about your precious reputation,” she said smugly. “Nor about your cabin boy, either. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but back in Halifax, while we were at Lady Jacob’s party, I was quite surprised to meet Mr. Withers. We spoke at some length, actually, and had a most interesting conversation.”

  Ethan nodded. “Yes, I saw you talking with him. May I ask what was it Mr. Withers had to say that was of such great interest?”

  Emily lowered her eyes becomingly. “It seems that he and Chastity did not come to a meeting of the minds, as it were, about marriage. Mr. Withers was curious as to whether or not I might still be interested in resuming our former betrothal, since neither of us had…well, since neither of us had found anyone with whom we had rather … involve ourselves.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “And what was your reply to Mr. Withers, whom you once referred to, if I’m not mistaken, as a preposterous toad?”

  “Well, in light of Mr. Withers’ sincere belief that we might be quite happy together in London, now that I have gotten beyond what I now recognize as my childish romantic fantasies about … things, I gave him permission to write to me when I’m back in Nantucket. To make further plans for our wedding, in late June, I believe was his suggestion.”

  Ethan walked across to where she sat, and stood before her, sighing. “You’re incorrigible, Emily, and a very poor liar.” Then, with one deft move, he dumped her on her stomach, pulled her gown up to her waist, and held her down while he delivered several stinging swats to each buttock and the backs of her thighs. Emily squirmed, but unable to escape his grip, settled for swearing at him.

  “What was that for?” she grumbled, when he let her up.

  “For lying to me.”

  “I didn’t lie to you!”

  Ethan shook his head, bent her across his thigh and spanked her again, every briefly, but considerably harder.

  “Harlan Withers was married to Miss Charlotte Bramley, three weeks ago,” he said, laying a final blistering smack across her wriggling backside. “It was in all the newspapers, both here, and in London.”

  “All right!” he howled, throwing her hands back to prevent further damage. “But it was just a little lie!”

  “Then we’re even. That was just a little spanking.”

  “I would not call that a little! “ she cried. “Besides, why should I be whipped at all for something so small?”

  Ethan grinned. “It never occurred to me until this very minute that these things were going to require different categories,” he said. “Now it appears I’ll have to rate your infractions from minor to felonious. Perhaps I’ll be forced to make up a graduated chart, with categories such as: ‘Emily gets her bottom mildly warmed with palm or hairbrush,’ to ‘Emily gets her ass blistered with a belt until she howls like a banshee.’ Or, maybe, ‘Emily is rendered completely unable to sit down for one full week.’”

  “Since I’ve already suffered all of those,” Emily pouted, “just what might be the penalty for an infraction more serious than my past ones?”

  Ethan laughed. “You don’t want to know, darling, believe me. Just keep in mind you’ve got many years left to annoy me, and I’ll no doubt become much crankier with age.”

  “Men are brutes,” she said, glaring at him.

  “Some are most surely that,” he conceded “But I believe that most of us are simply on a life-long search for some manner in which to even the odds.”

  “Oh, come now, Ethan!” Emily cried indignantly. “You know perfectly well that men rule the entire world. They stride about with absolute arrogance, while women can do nothing but bow and scrape and do their bidding. Women can neither make their own living, nor rule their own house!”

  McAllister shook his head firmly. “I’m afraid, darling, that you’ve spent your time with a completely different sort of woman than I have, and a different sort of man, as well. I agree that women are often deprived of many opportunities, a sad situation which I believe will change, in time. But in my experience, it’s the woman who holds the reins in most marriages. Her tactics must be sublimely clever, of course, even devious, but she will have her way, unless she has the misfortune to be married to that brute you’ve described.”

  “Nonsense! Women do not even have the vote in our country!”

  “That will change, someday, perhaps by the time our daughters are grown, even.”

  Emily blushed. “Our daughters?”

  “Well, sons as well, of course. I’m fond of children, Emily. I had hoped for a house full of children, one day. With your cooperation, of course.”

  “My cooperation?

  He smiled. “Well, I certainly can’t do it alone. I thought we’d settle in Boston, if that’s all right with you. My house there will be finished soon.”

  “But why would you want me?” Emily asked haughtily. “You’ve complained the entire voyage about what a bother I’ve been.”

  “True, but I have noticed some improvement, lately.”

  Emily robbed her bottom, grimacing. “Thanks to your unusual methods, no doubt. Tell me,” she asked grumpily. “Have you ever spanked a woman other than myself?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Although I confess that had I known how well it worked, and how much pleasure could be had in doing it, I would certainly have tried it earlier. Of course, one can’t go about spanking the bare bottoms of just any woman. There is a certain prior intimacy required, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Ha! You didn’t know me at all when you first swatted me! With my own parasol!”

  “But I thought you were an ill-behaved and deceitful child, then. It was only later that I learned you were an ill-behaved and deceitful woman.”

  “So, what exactly will I be spanked for in the future?” she asked sweetly. “Assuming, of course, that we … remain together?”

  “You require a list?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I heartily detest the smell of tobacco on women, so, should you acquire the habit of smoking small cigars while I am at sea, I will definitely take a sturdy strap to your lovely ass on the day I return. It’s also my hope that your abominable language will improve by the time our children are old enough to mimic their mother’s speech. When I was little, my mother developed an excellent cure for profanity, with which I will acquaint you, should it become necessary. The cure involved the use of several stout willow switches,
followed by a truly disgusting bar of soap in my mouth, and the always-dreaded referral to my father, who favored a razor strop over willow switches.”

  “You swear all the time!” Emily scoffed.

  Ethan laughed. “Not in front of children, nor, God forbid, my mother! Now, get dressed and out of my sight. I have work to do, and so do you. We’ll be in Nantucket by late tomorrow.” He handed her a stack of dry clothing, kissed her, and walked out the door.

  Emily sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, trying to remember if anywhere in the discussion of their lives together in Boston—or even of their potential children—Ethan had made mention of that elusive word, marriage.

  Chapter Ten

  At nightfall on the following evening, the light at Great Head appeared on their starboard bow, and shortly afterward, the Liza lay serenely at anchor in Nantucket Harbor.

  “I’d prefer to wait until tomorrow,” Emily said quietly, when Ethan asked if she wished to go immediately to her parents’ home. “There’s no point in rousing the entire household, after all. The morning will do just as well.”

  McAllister nodded, but he had seen something close to fear in her eyes. “What’s bothering you, Emily?” he asked softly.

  Emily looked down at her hands and began to cry. “Oh, Ethan! What if they don’t want me!”

  He took her hands in his. “Why on Earth wouldn’t they want you?”

  “I’ve made such a dreadful mess of everything! Mr. Withers will probably never do business with our family again, and I’ve cost my parents nothing but grief and alarm, and money and humiliation, and–” She stopped, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Ethan took her in his arms. “Emily, my love, when you’ve had children of your own, you’ll learn there is virtually nothing a child can do to merit being unwanted or unwelcomed by his parents. I’ve only to think of my own parents to know the truth of that. My father lost his hair entirely at an extremely unkind age, mostly because of me. The poor man was as bald as a billiard ball by the time he reached forty, but he’s always welcomed me home, and over my lifetime, he’s rescued me from more crises than there are ships at sea.”