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Episode 2, Lay Down Your Heart
Indian Ocean, off the coast of Zanzibar,
Midday
Aboard his ship The Wasp, Captain Trent Dawson leaned over a map in his cabin, studying the route Ryan Hunter had wanted to take to the Interior. Taking that route, they would have landed at Bagamoyo and traveled southwestward from there toward Lake Nyasa. It would have been a grueling trek—they would have had to make a hundred miles a week to reach the lake in five weeks’ time.
The doctor was so sick that Trent tried to convince him to start his mission closer to the coast. He’d figured he could then continue his own operation to discover if Ali Khalifa, commodore of Harcourt Shipping, really was using his position to smuggle slaves. After he got the doctor settled, he’d planned to trek further inland to see what Khalifa was doing on the shores of the lake. But the doctor would have nothing to do with starting his mission closer to the coast. Trent had tried every means of persuasion at his disposal, but Hunter had been insistent.
“The good Lord has called me to the shores of that lake, Captain Dawson. And so to its shores I will make haste.”
Trent rubbed the back of his neck and glanced out the porthole to the line of the horizon beyond. He didn’t know whether to admire the man or curse him for a fool. Trekking so far into the interior of the Continent in his condition was naught but a death march.
One thing he did know…he wished they were traveling at any other time of year. It would be nearing the end of April by the time they arrived at the coast and made all their preparations for the inland trek, and the weather would likely be damp and sickly, although thankfully this week had been unseasonably warm and the winds were cooperating.
But the rains would come. And the rains caused more problems than just sickness. Rains always stirred up the rivers and made the crocs more dangerous due to hunger. Not to mention the sicknesses brought on by the combination of the damp, severe heat, and flash floods that contaminated drinking water.
He hoped the condenser he’d purchased on his last trip to England would hold up. He’d learned about the machine from Dr. Livingstone. The man had said during his last expedition, for over a month his crew had consumed only distilled water, and in that time not one day of sickness had plagued them.
Trent hoped distilled water would prevent Dr. Hunter from falling even more ill, and keep his crew healthy as well.
He ran his finger down the East African coast to Kilwa and then beyond to Cape Delgado. Thankfully he’d been able to talk the doctor into taking that route. The Rovuma River wound west to its headwaters just east of Lake Nyasa. That would cut their overland route by hundreds of miles and shorten their trip by half, but it might also increase their run-ins with the dreaded crocodiles. Still, if they were careful, the river would be the faster and safer route to travel—especially for a man as sick as the doctor.
A movement at the door lifted his focus from the map.
John Knight, ship’s bosun, stood at the door, his hat crumpled in his hand and looking most unsure of himself.
“What is it, John?”
“Well, Captain…” He gave the cap two twists. “It’s really Garrett, sir…he’s found…a stowaway.”
Trent waved a hand of dismissal and turned his attention back to the map. “You know my rule when we find a stowaway and are less than a day’s sail from a shore. Put him in a canoe with one canteen of water, an oar, and two rations of food.”
“Aye, I told Garrett that, Captain. But he insists you’ll want to see this one for yourself.”
Trent sighed. Keeping order on his ship had often forced him to do things he hadn’t enjoyed. Certainly it was harsh to turn a man loose on the sea with only one canteen and two rations, but he’d taken his life into his hands by sneaking aboard. Many a captain would make a stowaway walk the plank and give him nary another thought. “John, when was the last time you knew me to break one of my rules?”
John scratched his beard. “Never, Captain.”
Trent gave a firm nod. “And I don’t intend to start now.”
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On the Wings of a Whisper: A serialized historical Christian romance. (Sonnets of the Spice Isle Book 1) Page 8
