A Ship Through Time

by Bess McBride

  “Aye, I agree, Doctor,” Frederick said.

  I heard Mrs. Simpson talking as the ladies rounded the corner and appeared before us. Mrs. Simpson had tied her hair up as best she could, given that she appeared to have lost most of her hairpins, but Mrs. Darymple chose to leave hers down. Mrs. Darymple had also hiked her skirt up to just above her ankles by tucking a length into her waistband. For all intents and purposes, it looked like the older woman had gone natural. She was clearly taking to life in the tropics.

  Daniel threw me an amused look but said nothing.

  “That pool is absolutely refreshing! A veritable fountain of youth. I feel invigorated, years younger,” she said.

  The same could not be said of Mrs. Simpson, who looked unhappy and slightly embarrassed.

  “Forgive me for screaming. I am a modest woman, unaccustomed to bathing in the company of others, and when I saw you—”

  She dropped her eyes and sat down at the entrance to their hut.

  “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Simpson,” Daniel said, rising. “Forgive us for not announcing our return in some other fashion. Perhaps we should have called out, but I do worry that others on the island might hear us, and I think we must keep our voices moderated. Again, forgive me.”

  He handed Mrs. Simpson a coconut husk filled with shredded coconut, bananas, slices of the little “apples” and berries—a veritable fruit salad.

  Frederick handed Mrs. Darymple and me two more coconut shells filled with fruit, having apparently busied himself with preparing a meal for all of us. I ate mine with appreciation and licked my fingers for good measure.

  “That was wonderful, Frederick. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Wollam.”

  “Yes, quite delightful, young man,” Mrs. Darymple said. “What did you discover down at the beach, Daniel?”

  “No evidence that anyone had pursued us as of yet. We did not see the outrigger canoe either though, so I am not certain whether it was retrieved or swept out to sea. I did hope it would remain locked in the lagoon by the reef so that any anyone searching for it might think we had all drowned.”

  “You are saying then that you do not know if the Polynesians and French returned and found nothing? Or that they have not yet arrived? The former would be more advantageous.” Mrs. Darymple’s pragmatic view of the situation impressed me.

  “Yes, the former would be most expedient, but no, I have no inkling. Nothing was disturbed at the encampment. The tide came up in the night and washed away any footprints in the sand, including ours.”

  “Then we must wait and see,” Mrs. Darymple said. “And strive to live as modestly and quietly as possible. No fancy balls and orchestras for you now, Mrs. Simpson! You must eschew those activities for the time being,” she said with a broad smile.

  Mrs. Simpson, appearing to actually relish her food, looked up, smiled faintly and returned to eating.

  Mrs. Darymple turned a bright smile upon us all, and I again marveled at the lightening of Mrs. Darymple’s temperament, as if the warm tropical waters, bright sun and dazzling foliage had rejuvenated her.

  Mrs. Simpson’s demeanor had mellowed following her bath in the pool, with the exception of her screaming episode. Now content to sit and to eat quietly, the perpetual lines of discontent in her face smoothed. Did the pool have magical properties, or were we all simply changing in subtle ways, given our experiences?

  Daniel smiled more easily than he had on the ship. Oddly, given the danger that we were most certainly in, he too seemed more relaxed. He continued to leave his shirt collar open, revealing tanned skin at the base of his throat. His wavy dark hair gleamed after his recent visit to the pool, and he casually ran a hand through the unruly locks to push them from his face, unsuccessfully. My heart warmed as I watched boyish curls drop down over his forehead again.

  As if Daniel felt me watching him, he turned to look at me. I caught my breath at the intimate warmth in his nut-brown eyes. He met my gaze steadily, and I wondered if he could read my thoughts. My heart thumped, and my face flamed as I turned away.

  Did Daniel know how much he meant to me? Could he see that I had fallen madly in love with him?

  I eyed him from under my lashes. Still looking at me, he smiled quickly before turning away to respond to a question from Mrs. Darymple.

  I retreated into myself, half listening to the hum of conversation but mostly watching Daniel and wondering about our future. The light took on an orange tint signaling the arrival of late afternoon. Dusk would come soon.

  Mrs. Simpson noted the lateness of the hour first.

  “It will soon be nightfall. Will we set a fire? For safety?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I do not think that is wise for now, Mrs. Simpson. We cannot give away our position, or even that we still live. When you speak of a fire for safety, what is it that you fear?”

  She looked around the jungle with wide eyes.

  “Wild animals? The boars you spoke of?”

  I wasn’t about to mention the wild pig. Not to the worried Mrs. Simpson. Not to the men.

  I heard Daniel attempting to reassure Mrs. Simpson as I rose restlessly, pulled my robe more closely around me and limped away from the group. Most of them probably assumed I was going to relieve myself, but I simply wanted to get some air. In my old life—seemingly so far away—I had enjoyed a great deal of solitude. I wondered how I was going to manage in such close quarters. Even the huts had been built within a few feet of each other.

  I left the encampment and made my way to the pool, lowering myself to the rocks to dangle my aching feet in the water.

  I waited, knowing Daniel would join me soon. He wasted no time and arrived within a few minutes. Sitting down next to me on the ledge, he pulled off his boots and socks to drop his feet into the water.

  “I wondered at your expression a few moments ago, Maggie. Is something wrong? Are you worried?”

  I turned to look at him. Handsome, nurturing and charming. The look of concern in his eyes pulled at my heart.

  “I’m always worried, Daniel. I’m probably more like Mrs. Simpson than I am Mrs. Darymple, who, by the way, appears to be thriving on the island. As do you.” I turned away to watch the waterfall, hoping he wouldn’t see the blatant infatuation in my eyes.

  “I cannot tell you not to fret, dearest. One should worry in our circumstances. But I can tell you, Maggie, that I will protect you with my life.”

  I caught my breath at Daniel’s words. He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. His kiss, tender and warm, sent a thrill up my arm. My heart raced as he slid the palm of my hand over to his cheek, pressing it there for a moment and gazing at me with a tender expression.

  “I love you, Margaret Wollam. I would ask you to marry me, but I do not know how I could find a minister.” His tanned face bronzed, and he lowered my hand but did not let go.

  “Nor do I know if you would accept my suit. Would you? Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Someday?”

  His lips curved on the last word, as if to take the sting from it.

  I didn’t want to dwell on the impossibility of marrying a man on a remote island in the South Pacific—in the absence of a minister or a justice of the peace, in a century not my own, while in hiding from those who might separate us. I didn’t want to think about any of the reasons why we couldn’t marry.

  I laced my fingers through Daniel’s and squeezed.

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you too, probably from the first time I met you.”

  Daniel leaned over, slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me to him. His tender kiss filled me with love—love for him, love for the island, love for life. I wanted it to last forever.

  A cough from somewhere nearby broke the spell, and Daniel pulled away, albeit slowly.

  “I trust you have honorable intentions, Dr. Hawthorne?” Mrs. Darymple said with a broad grin. She stood behind us, a shocked Mrs. Simpson at her side. The three men and Thomas watched
us with varying shades of embarrassment.

  Daniel held his own.

  “Please congratulate us. I have asked Mrs. Wollam to become my wife—although I am at present uncertain how we can formalize the marriage.”

  My face burned, but I drew strength from Daniel’s confident smile.

  “Felicitations!” Mrs. Darymple said, as if we stood in a drawing room.

  “Yes, of course, wonderful news,” Mrs. Simpson echoed, her expression belying her words.

  The men hemmed and hawed their congratulations, while Thomas looked generally uncomfortable with the subject. Thankfully, no one pursued the theoretical impossibility of finding someone to marry Daniel and me, for which I was grateful.

  “Come. We do not wish to intrude upon their happy moment,” Mrs. Darymple said, shepherding the group back toward the huts. “Do not delay, you two. Dusk is upon us, and darkness will envelop the area.”

  “Yes, of course, Mrs. Darymple. Thank you. We will return to the camp momentarily,” Daniel said with a chuckle.

  Suddenly shy, I kept my eyes on our companions as they moved away into the fading light. Daniel pulled me to him again.

  “I love you,” he repeated. My heart felt as if it would burst at the magical sound of his words.

  “I love you too, Daniel.”

  A crashing sound in the brush opposite the camp caught our ears, and we stiffened. My little pig ran out into the open and stopped short when he saw us.

  “A boar!” Daniel exclaimed. He jumped to his feet, as if to chase the poor thing.

  “No!” I shouted, rising. The boar saw Daniel and ran back into the jungle the same way it had come.

  “No! Leave him alone. Don’t chase him!” I grabbed Daniel’s arm.

  He looked down at me.

  “But it’s a boar!” Daniel said. “Food.”

  “No,” I muttered. “He’s just a little hairy pig. Or she. Let him go.”

  Daniel covered my hand with his own and patted it.

  “Maggie, my dear. It is not a pet. We need food sources.”

  “I know. I know,” I said. “But not this little guy. Don’t tell the others about him.”

  Daniel turned to me and took my shoulders in his.

  “Did you know there was a boar nearby? Had you seen him already?”

  “Yes,” I said, hanging my head. “I saw him earlier.”

  “And you said nothing.”

  “No. I didn’t want you all to kill it.”

  Daniel pulled me into his arms, and I buried myself in his embrace.

  “Silly,” he said. “We cannot live on fruit alone.”

  “No, of course not,” I mumbled into his chest. His heart beat strong, if a little fast.

  “Will you object when we bring back fish?”

  I looked up at him. Even in the low light, his teeth gleamed as he smiled down at me.

  “No,” I mumbled. “Just not this little guy. Promise me you won’t let the men kill him if they see him?” I nodded in the direction of the camp.

  “Inasmuch as I have it in my power to control such, I promise, my sweet.”

  I thrilled to the term of endearment as much as I did to his promise.

  Darkness surrounded us now, not pitch black but a soft charcoal. The sound of the waterfall intensified. Birds quieted.

  I felt Daniel’s fingers under my chin, lifting my face to his. He kissed me slowly. A shiver ran down my spine, and once again I contemplated our possible future.

  “We have no way to get married,” I said as our lips parted. My statement was meant to be practical rather than an obstruction of future plans. A justice of the peace would have been nice, a minister great, but in the absence of either, I thought Daniel and I should move forward. His next words disappointed me.

  “No, we do not have the means to marry, not for the foreseeable future. I am so very sorry, Maggie. I should not have asked you to marry me when I knew we had no way to do so, yet I gave in to my baser instinct to bind you to me, to tell you how very much you mean to me.”

  I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a sigh.

  “Do you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Daniel.” I bit my lip and spoke frankly. “Do we have to wait for a minister to marry us?” Even in the growing coolness of the evening, I felt my cheeks burn.

  Daniel, now holding my hand once again, squeezed it.

  “Yes, dearest. I am afraid we must. I love and respect you too much to sully your reputation.”

  “My reputation,” I said dully.

  “Yes.”

  “Here on the island, with no one about.”

  “Even here. Mrs. Darymple and Mrs. Simpson would comment. The men would comment.”

  “I don’t care what they say!”

  “But I care what they say about you, Maggie. We will find a way to marry someday, I promise. Until then I will love you with every fiber of my being.”

  Before I could argue further, Daniel pulled me to him and kissed me thoroughly.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I opened my eyes at the sound of movement through the nearby brush. I’d been wide awake, unable to sleep for the past few hours since Daniel left me at my hut with a chaste, though sweet, kiss to my forehead.

  The pig? I crawled to the doorway of my hut and looked out, hoping to see the little guy.

  I saw nothing in the darkness though, a faint sliver of moonlight doing little to illuminate the jungle. I emerged from my hut to scan the area for the pig. Apparently, we had squatted on his territory. Either that or he smelled an easy meal from the fruit the men had gathered.

  Another rustle in the brush to the right caught my ear, and I turned toward the sound. I shuffled forward in that direction, leaving the encampment. What sorts of sounds did little boars make? Did they grunt? If so, the pig was remarkably silent.

  I stopped abruptly, wondering what I had been thinking. I should have awakened Daniel, not wandered into the jungle on my own. As I turned to retreat to the safety of the camp, the bushes rustled again and a hand clamped over my mouth.

  Kaihau! I fought against the arms that imprisoned me. Lifted off my feet, I twisted and turned. Whispered French curses caught my attention. Shocked, I stopped struggling momentarily.

  Two shadowy figures held me, one under my arms and the other holding my feet. A third figure slid a cloth over my mouth and tied it at the back of my head. I renewed my struggles.

  “Madame, desist!” a French accent growled in my ear.

  The French! It was the French. Captain Sebastian had found us.

  I tried to shriek, but whatever sounds I made stuck inside my throat.

  Though the night was modestly dark, someone pulled something over my head, blotting out even the faint moonlight. The smell of burlap overwhelmed me. A weight hit me in the stomach, and I realized that I had been thrown over someone’s shoulder. My head dangled, and blood rushed to my brain. I waved my arms and kicked until I felt both my arms and feet bound and restrained.

  I screamed inwardly as my captors moved quickly, and I bounced mercilessly on someone’s shoulder. Pain shot through my stomach, my ribs.

  It seemed like we traveled forever. When I thought I couldn’t bear any more pain, my captors stopped. I was lowered and dropped onto my right hip on soft ground, perhaps sand. Through my head covering, I heard the sound of waves and French voices.

  Someone lifted me to a sitting position and pulled the bag from my head. Captain Sebastian, on his knees at my side, untied the distasteful rag from around my mouth.

  “Madame Wollam, we meet again,” he said smoothly. I scanned my surroundings. The French had carried me back to the beach. I could see our original huts to my left. The French ship lay anchored offshore, just outside of the lagoon. Several small skiffs had been dragged up onto the beach.

  “What do you want with me? Why can’t you let me go?” I begged. Some of his men sat down in a semicircle, while others stood and watched. The moonlight reflected on t
he hilts of pistols and knives stuffed into their belts. Francois knelt to untie the strips of cloth that bound my hands and feet.

  “Ah! Madame, I did let you go once. I made no attempt to pursue you, though I suspected you had not gone far.”

  “Then why are you here? What do you want?” I rubbed my wrists and eyed Francois, who looked a bit ashamed as he sat back. Had he been the one who carried me?

  Captain Sebastian shifted from his knees to a sitting position on the sand.

  “I must admit to some surprise when we found you at the oasis. Did your group build these little cottages?” He nodded in the direction of the A-line huts.

  “Yes.”

  “But why, if you do not stay in them?”

  “Because we were hiding from you...and Kaihau.”

  “Ah! Kaihau. Yes, he was most unhappy to discover that you had fled. I did try to explain the situation with his lady, but he did not believe me.”

  “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  “How many men are with you?” he asked, ignoring my question.

  I hesitated for an instant, quickly counting his men. About eight.

  “Twenty,” I said brazenly.

  The moonlight shone on Captain Sebastian’s bright smile.

  “Come now, madame! In four huts? Notwithstanding that you most likely have your own quarters?”

  “Twenty,” I repeated stubbornly.

  “Perhaps four?”

  “I’m telling you—twenty.” I wasn’t about to mention the women.

  “Very well, madame. As you wish. I will have to send to my ship for more men.”

  “Why?” I burst out. “What for?”

  “To restrain this large army of twenty while we seek to accomplish our task.”

  “Task? Why are you here?” I repeated like a broken record.

  “We left some things at the pool, which we must now retrieve.”

  “Things? At the pool? What things? There’s nothing there.” I desperately hoped they weren’t going for the pig.

  “Things that belong to us,” he said.

  “The pig?” I squeaked.

  “Pig?” Captain Sebastian repeated with an obviously confused shake of his head.