A Ship Through Time

by Bess McBride

  Chapter Five

  A hand touched my face, and I awakened with a start. Daniel leaned over me, shielding me from the sun.

  “I’m still here!” I murmured.

  He put a finger to his lips and threw a warning glance toward the two sleeping women sprawled in an awkward position over the bench in the rear of the boat.

  “Yes, you are,” he whispered. “More is the pity.”

  “I’m fine.” In those words and the glance of affection that I gave Daniel, I meant more than I said. He blinked and tilted his head with an expression of curiosity, like a puppy trying to understand human speech. His black hair, normally well groomed, curled over his forehead. He had unbuttoned his collar, his neckcloth having disappeared, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His clothing was now dry, and I realized I must have fallen asleep sometime after we watched the ship sink beneath the water.

  “Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I looked over the lip of the skiff at a vast ocean of blue broken only by small whitecaps. The sea had calmed, and the boat bobbed gently, thankfully. A mild breeze blew through my hair, my chignon long gone. I reached to push it back off my face but encountered Daniel’s hand already there, smoothing it back from my forehead. I grasped his hand.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” I whispered.

  “And to my shame, I am so glad that you are here,” he muttered. He brought my hand to his mouth and released it quickly, turning away hastily to scan the horizon. With a melting heart, I watched a muscle tick in his jaw.

  “I do not know where we are,” Daniel continued after a moment. “I am a doctor, not a navigator, unfortunately. The other men, Frederick and James, worked in the kitchen, and Samuel is a steward.” Daniel looked over his shoulder toward the men rowing the boat. “But no matter where we are, I should return to rowing. We have seen a few birds, so we hope that we are near land. But in which direction, I cannot say.”

  Daniel touched the tip of my already sunburned nose and returned to his oar. I turned and looked at the women, worried about their exposure to sun under the largely cloudless sky. I saw Thomas huddled, fast asleep, in a shaded crevice at the front of the boat.

  I rose and held on to the edge of the skiff as I studied the ladies. Devoid of hats, their reddened faces showed the effects of the sun, and I thought they would be best served if they slipped down to the shade under the bench seats. I shook Mrs. Darymple gently.

  She came awake with a start, her hands batting at me before she realized who I was.

  “What is it, girl? What is happening?”

  “Nothing, Mrs. Darymple!” I straightened. Mrs. Simpson awakened as well and sat up straight, looking out over the ocean with a bewildered expression.

  “You are getting too much sun,” I said “I think you and Mrs. Simpson should lay down on the bottom of the boat under the bench. There’s a little bit of shade there.”

  “On the floorboards?” Mrs. Simpson asked in a confused voice.

  “Yes, Agatha, the floorboards. The girl is quite right. We must shelter ourselves. I suspect we are lost, and we must conserve strength. There is no telling when we will find land with food or drink.”

  To my surprise, Mrs. Darymple slipped off the bench and pulled Mrs. Simpson with her. Mrs. Darymple crawled as far under the bench as she could, reaching out to settle her now-dry skirts about her legs.

  “Come, Agatha.”

  Mrs. Simpson followed suit, but I worried about her. She seemed disoriented, and I hoped that was just temporary and not some more permanent damage from the trauma of jumping four decks into the water. We had encountered no other survivors as we rowed away from the doomed ship. The storm had eased within half an hour, and the moon had come out long enough to allow us to see the tallest mast of the ship go under, leaving us in no doubt as to its fate.

  I returned to my position on the floor and watched the men row, wondering if I could do anything to help. I doubted that Daniel would let me row, nor did I think I could handle the heavy wooden oars.

  Several small white-capped gray birds flew overhead and hovered for a moment. I caught my breath and watched them as they studied us. Which way were they headed? Where in the South Pacific were we?

  “Daniel!” I called out and pointed to the birds. His haggard face brightened with a grin.

  “Terns,” he said.

  I rose and worked my way over to him, stepping carefully in my bare feet and hanging on to the edge of the bobbing boat.

  “Does that mean we’re near land?”

  Daniel nodded. “Yes, I think so. I am certain of it. The birds cannot be too far from land.”

  “So do we follow them?”

  “Yes, if we can,” he said. “I hope they are not heading out to sea to fish though, but we must take our chances.” He called out. “Follow the birds, boys!”

  “Can I help row?”

  “No,” Daniel said. “This work is not for women.”

  “Or doctors,” I said.

  He gave me a sideways glance, sweat beading his forehead. I hated to see him sweat. It meant he was losing precious fluids, and as Mrs. Darymple had said, we had no idea when we would next find food or fresh water.

  “If you would feel better rowing, then you may sit next to me and help pull the oar.”

  I smiled and joined him on the bench, placing both hands on the oar and pulling in unison with Daniel.

  “You are strong for a little thing,” he said. “Do you still think you are in a dream?” he asked, lowering his voice and leaning near my ear.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, Daniel. I slept, and I’m still here. If I were sleeping in my own time, wouldn’t I have awakened by now? It’s been how many hours? Twelve?”

  “Since you came back? Yes, I think that might be right.” He looked up at the sun. “I think it must be about eight o’clock now. The sun rose a few hours ago.”

  The terns, having investigated us and found nothing to eat, moved on.

  “There they go,” I said, watching them fly away.

  “Yes, that is the direction the other birds have gone. I feel certain there must be land ahead.”

  Not truly instrumental in helping Daniel row, I leaned over the edge of the boat to see into the distance. A blue-gray haze hovered low on the horizon in front of us.

  “I don’t know. Could that be land? That haze?”

  “Possibly,” he said. “Dead ahead, boys! Toward that haze on the horizon.”

  He seemed energized, and I returned to helping him row. Fairly fit and robust, Daniel hardly needed my help, but I enjoyed being close to him...as long as I could stay.

  Several hours later, I worried for him, for all of us. Daniel’s lips were dry, and he had ceased to sweat. I noted that Frederick, James and Samuel appeared to struggle as they pulled on the oars. Thomas, having awakened, did his best to rotate among the three men to help row, but given his size, he didn’t do much better than I did. Thankfully, the ladies continued to sleep, thereby conserving energy.

  “Daniel, that is land! I’m sure of it!” I cried out.

  “Yes, I believe that you are correct.”

  I gazed at the dark mass materializing in the distance, and I hoped and prayed it was Hawaii or Tahiti or some other well-populated island, even in the mid-nineteenth century. The island, though, didn’t look very large from our vantage point. We were north of the island, as the morning sun was to our left in the east.

  The island seemed to grow in size as we approached, but I saw no signs of civilization. No other boats, no smoke, no signs of life. Jagged peaks materialized out of the haze, thrusting toward the sky. I desperately hoped the island boasted a beach where we could easily land the boat. It would be too awful to find an island in the vast ocean where we couldn’t land, where we couldn’t take shelter.

  As the men rowed hard, the swells picked up, as if the sea rushed toward the island. The boat rose and fell accordingly, and I gave up pretending to help Daniel. I hung on to the edge of the skiff a
nd looked over my shoulder to see the women safely ensconced under the bench in the stern.

  Turning my attention forward, I saw white surf exploding in the near distance.

  “That’s a reef, Daniel!” I warned. I had traveled enough that I recognized the breaking waves so far from shore signaled a coral reef and danger to the hull of the boat.

  “I know. I know,” he muttered. “Hold up, boys!” he shouted. “Reverse the oars. We are approaching a reef.” He jumped up, shading his eyes. I clung to his oar, trying to push against it, but couldn’t budge the heavy thing on my own.

  “Do you see a cut in the reef?” he shouted to the other men. “Any way in?”

  A sudden swell knocked Daniel off his feet, but he scrambled up to grab the oar that I clung to.

  “I cannot see anything, sir,” Frederick shouted. “But we cannot hold the boat back. The surf’s got hold of her.”

  And indeed, the surf pushed us inexorably toward the reef. Beyond the exploding white froth, teal-green water led to the black sands of tranquil-appearing palm-treed beaches, but getting there would be a problem.

  “What is happening?” Mrs. Darymple called out. I whirled around to see her on the verge of rising. Mrs. Simpson had awakened as well.

  “Stay down, Mrs. Darymple, lest you fall out!” Daniel shouted. “Brace yourselves, ladies. We are in for a rocky ride!”

  “We cannot stop the forward motion, Doctor! We are going in!” James yelled.

  “Then we must push through. Row for your lives, men. Row!” Daniel shouted, pushing his oar. “Hold tight, everyone!”

  I pushed as hard as I could, hoping we could somehow skim above the reef and drop down into the lagoon beyond.

  The surf roared, and the bow of the boat rose to crest one of the waves. As we dropped, I heard a horrendous cracking noise, and I knew we had hit the reef. I looked over my shoulder to see a large fracture in the starboard side of the hull. Water flooded the boat in seconds, and I screamed as a second jolt broke the boat apart.

  Swept out of the boat, I screamed again.

  “Daniel!” Salt water filled my mouth. The waves flung bits of wood at me, and I ducked. Coral tore at my feet, but I pulled my lower limbs to my stomach, hoping the waves would toss me over the majority of the coral and dump me into the lagoon.

  A soft dark shape bumped into me, and I grabbed Mrs. Darymple.

  “Let go!” she screamed.

  “I’ve got you. I’m a strong swimmer. Just tuck your knees to protect yourself, Mrs. Darymple!”

  Sputtering a mouthful of salt water, she nodded and stopped resisting.

  “Where is Mrs. Simpson?” I shouted. “Did you see her?”

  “No, I have not seen her!”

  I held on to Mrs. Darymple and tried to search for the others above the swirling froth but could see nothing. I thought I heard shouts, but that could have been the pounding of my pulse in my soggy ears.

  “We’ve got to get out of this! Swim!”

  I struck out in the direction of the waves with my right arm, pulling Mrs. Darymple with my left. She must have kicked, because her weight lightened.

  We rose up on a wave again as if we were body surfing, and it dumped us into another mass of painful coral. I suspected my feet were bleeding, and I hoped the lagoon was free of sharks.

  But the waves had also deposited us inside the turquoise lagoon, and my feet touched soft sand. The water level came to my waist.

  “We’re out of the waves. You can stand now.” I let go of Mrs. Darymple and turned to look at the reef behind me.

  Bits and pieces of lumber swirled in the surf, while others floated in the calm lagoon. My heart swelled with joy when I saw Daniel’s dark head emerge from the froth. He had hold of Thomas and Mrs. Simpson.

  “Daniel! Daniel!” I screeched, jumping up and down.

  “Ouch!” I said, stepping on a piece of coral. “Look, Mrs. Darymple! Daniel has Mrs. Simpson!”

  To Daniel’s left, Frederick, James and Samuel swam into the lagoon, and I realized thankfully that our little group had survived.

  Daniel waded through water toward us, half carrying a confused and whimpering Mrs. Simpson. Thomas walked beside them, casting worried glances at the older woman. They reached us, and Mrs. Darymple moved to take charge of her companion.

  I wanted to throw myself against Daniel in joy, but the moment was lost when Thomas appeared at my side. I hugged him instead. The thin boy stiffened, and I let him go. His reddened cheeks suggested he wasn’t used to being hugged.

  “Where are we?” Mrs. Darymple asked.

  We turned in unison to look at the island. Irregularly shaped jagged green peaks towered over the island, the tallest ones buried in low-hanging clouds. The whole image was mystical, like something out of a Hollywood movie.

  “I have no idea,” Daniel said. “None at all. Come. Let us wade to shore in case there are sharks in the lagoon.”

  At that, poor Mrs. Simpson whimpered again.

  “Sharks?”

  “Courage, Agatha. You must find courage,” Mrs. Darymple said, not unkindly. “We are still alive!”

  “I am trying,” Mrs. Simpson said in a faltering voice.

  “The island looks very small,” I said, trying to step carefully over the coral bits in the sand as I waded in. “Ouch!”

  “What is it?” Daniel said, moving near me.

  “I keep stepping on coral! My feet are screaming in pain.”

  “That is right! You have no shoes!”

  “No,” I murmured, taking another tentative step forward.

  “Come,” Daniel said, and to my surprise, he swept me up into his arms. I melted in his embrace, forgetting for a brief moment that we were quite possibly stranded on a strange island or that many people had probably lost their lives.

  The last thought sobered me, and I bit my lip as I wrapped my arms around Daniel’s neck. He lowered me to the ground as he reached shore, and I ran my hands through the silky-feeling black sand.

  “This is from lava, isn’t it?” I asked. I buried my burning feet in the cool wet sand, which seemed to soothe them a bit.

  Daniel, arms on his hips, studied the peaks. “Yes, I should think so. This is obviously a volcanic island, but I suspect from the peaks that its volcano is dormant. If it were active, the mountains would be softly rounded from lava flow.”

  “You know a lot about geology for a medical doctor.”

  Daniel looked down at me.

  “An interest of mine.”

  “Thank goodness,” Mrs. Darymple said on reaching shore. She set Mrs. Simpson down on shore next to me and turned to survey the beach. “A lovely spot under other circumstances.”

  I agreed with her. We had been shipwrecked in paradise. I only hoped civilization was nearby. Then I looked up at Daniel, standing by me, his black hair wet, white shirt plastered to his muscular chest, and I didn’t seem to care. Paradise was anywhere near Daniel. As far as I was concerned, paradise was at his side.

  I looked out toward the turquoise lagoon and wondered when I had fallen in love.

  Chapter Six

  I was interrupted from my odd reverie by the arrival of the three crew members who had finally reached shore and dropped down onto the sand next to Mrs. Simpson. The boundary lines between passenger and crew had been dissolved, and rightly so.

  “Coconuts,” I said, looking up at the palm trees. “No matter what we find or don’t find on this island, we’ll always have something to eat and drink.”

  “Aye,” Frederick said. “I worked in the kitchen. I can prepare a few things with the meat and milk of the coconut.”

  “Good man,” Daniel said. “I am hopeless with a pot and pan, not that we have either. Do you know how to set a fire? We have plenty of lava rock to serve as a flint.”

  Fredrick pushed himself off the black sand and stood to look around.

  “I think we can do something with the coconut husk and some of the rock. Should I set a fire now?”

&n
bsp; “Yes, please do so that the ladies do not take chill,” said Daniel, the de facto leader of our little group. “The rest of us will explore the island. Samuel and James, head west along the coast, and report back with what you find. Thomas and I will explore east.”

  “I want to go. I don’t need to dry off!”

  All eyes turned and surveyed me from head to toe. I looked down at the wet flowered island dress that clung to my curves. Crossing my arms over my chest, I cleared my throat.

  “I’m almost dry. I’d like to go,” I reiterated with burning cheeks.

  “Mrs. Wollam, your feet took a severe beating on the coral,” Daniel said. “I think I should wrap your feet up and that you should rest.”

  I looked up at Daniel, stunned by his formal use of my last name. He had been calling me Maggie. What had happened? Had I misunderstood the closeness between us?

  I dropped my eyes and unearthed one of my feet to study the bleeding and raw sole. Daniel was right. I probably couldn’t walk far and would probably only hinder them.

  “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll huddle with the ladies here on the beach.”

  While Frederick gathered things to start a fire, Daniel picked me up to carry me to a dryer part of the beach, above the tide line. The two older women followed us, while James and Samuel headed down the beach on their mission to explore.

  Daniel knelt in front of me and examined my feet. The wounds, still raw, had not yet started to clot, and blood continued to ooze from them.

  “I am concerned with infection,” he murmured. “I have no salve though.”

  “I’m pretty tough,” I said, more to reassure him. “I’ll be all right.”

  “I still need to wrap them.” He sat back and looked around, as if for a bandage.

  “Here,” I said. I grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it apart at the seam to tear off a few inches.

  “Is she tearing her gown?” Mrs. Simpson whispered to Mrs. Darymple.

  “I do not think she means to be immodest, Mrs. Simpson,” Mrs. Darymple said dryly. “She needs bandages for her feet. Would you have the doctor give up his shirt?”