Jennifer Wilde

by Marietta Love Me

  The ship wasn't large. It had a rusty-brown hull, and only three sails and certainly no more than two large cabins below deck. The hull was crushed at one end, sinking into the water. The masts were broken, the sails a tangle of wet canvas, floating on top of the water. We stood on the bank, looking at the destruction the storm had wrought. None of us spoke. There was no need for words. We were stranded in the wilderness.

  Twenty-Two

  The sails floated heavily, tangled on the broken masts that banged together in the water like logs as the waves rocked gently. The front of the ship rose as the end sank, inch by inch, those decks above water slanting precariously. In half an hour or less the entire ship would be under water. I tried not to think of what it meant. I tried to banish the terrible sinking feeling and the fear. Em's cheeks were pale, her hazel eyes grim. Come stood beside her, still holding the sprays of wild flowers. Jeremy and Randolph looked at the ship with eyes that were hard and strangely calm.

  "There's still time to salvage a few things," Jeremy said.

  "It's too risky, lad."

  "The galley, the armory are up front, not underwater yet. We could save a few guns, ammunition, a few cooking utensils. We'll need 'em. I'm swimming out there, Randy."

  "I'll go with you."

  "No, one of us has to stay with the women. Besides, you've never been able to swim worth a damn."

  "You'll need help, lad. Even if you're able to salvage things you won't be able to get 'em back here by yourself."

  Jeremy had already peeled off his buckskin jacket. He sat down on the bank now, removing his boots. "I'll manage," he retorted.

  He removed his holster and gun, brushed the hair from his forehead and then waded into the water. When it was up to his waist, he leaped forward and started swimming toward the ship in strong, steady strokes. The cove wasn't very large, the ship no more than three or four hundred yards from shore. He reached it in a matter of minutes, catching hold of the railing that was half-submerged, pulling himself up onto the slanting deck. It seemed to vanish beneath him, sinking behind him. The ship rocked, tilting as he climbed the deck on his hands and knees, moving uphill, disappearing down an open hatch. He was going to be killed. The ship was going to sink and he was going to be trapped inside, and I would never see him again.

  Em took my hand, squeezing it so tightly I felt my fingers were going to be crushed. Randolph continued to stare at the ship, unable to conceal his worry now. Corrie took a deep breath, laid the flowers on the ground, and stepped out of her shoes.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Randolph said harshly.

  "I'm going to help him," Corrie replied. "You said he'd need help."

  "No you're not, gal! I'm not about to let you go out—"

  Before he could finish the sentence Corrie had whipped off her dress. She dove into the water, swimming awkwardly toward the ship in her white petticoat. I was horrified, so horrified I could only stare as she thrashed her legs and flailed her arms, sinking under the water, appearing a moment later with hair plastered over her skull like a shiny black cap.

  "She's not going to make it!" Em exclaimed. "She's going to drown!"

  Randolph clenched his fists, knuckles white, desperately wanting to go after the girl, knowing that if anything happened to him Em and I would be alone. He was torn with indecision, his face etched with misery as he watched Corrie splutter and flail, going under again. My heart seemed to fail. I felt faint. Em was crushing my hand in hers, and I didn't even notice. Corrie's head appeared again, and she lunged forward like a seal, kicking her legs, swinging her arms in windmill fashion, swimming erratically toward the ship.

  She reached the railing, caught hold of it and pulled herself up, crawling onto the deck. She rested there a moment, obviously catching her breath, and then she turned and waved to us and crawled up the deck to the open hatch. The ship was sinking faster now. At least two yards of deck had disappeared under water since Jeremy had climbed aboard. I could hear the creaking, groaning, sucking noise as the water claimed its victim, pulling it under, and as the front of the ship rose higher in the air I could see the barnacles clinging to the bottom like gray-green rocks. How long before the whole ship would slide under? Five minutes? Ten?

  "Corrie," I whispered.

  "She wanted to help, luv. She feels she owes us so much and feels she hasn't held up her end. This is—this was her way of showing us she can do her share. She's a very brave girl."

  "They're going to die, Em."

  "Maybe not, luv. They'll get out in time."

  I was numb, held there in the grip of horror as I watched the waves slap and suck, pulling another foot of the ship under, another, the water only a few yards from the open hatch now. I was filled with dread such as I had never felt before, thinking of that frail, lovely girl who had shown such heroism, thinking of the man who loved me, who genuinely loved me, whom I had denied. There was a great gulping noise, and the top of the ship rocked violently from side to side and seemed to leap out of the water, sucked back by the water, slipping under at an alarming rate now.

  "Look!" Em cried.

  A huge black bundle seemed to fly out of the hatch, sailing over the railing and landing in the water with a great splash, bobbing on the surface only a couple of feet from the tangle of sails. The three of us on the shore waited, watching the hatch, expecting to see Corrie and Jeremy emerge at any second. I held my breath, praying silently, but the ship continued to sink and no one appeared. Hope ebbed, my dread even greater now. Em had let go of my hand and was standing at the very edge of the water. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but my own eyes were dry.

  A full minute passed, another, another, and there was nothing I could do but wait and watch and pray. The water was not more than two feet from the open hatch now. In a matter of minutes it would pour in and Hood the cabins below, and they would be trapped. Em looked as though she was going to dive into the water and swim after them herself. Randolf took hold of her arm and pulled her away from the water's edge and curled an arm around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder, tears streaming.

  It happened then. There was another great gulping noise and a loud creaking and the ship rocked and water poured through the open hatch. In a matter of seconds the whole thing submerged, great bubbles churning on the surface. I stared at the sails and the bobbing black bundle and the spot where, half a minute ago, the prow had jutted out of the water. They were gone. Jeremy and Corrie were gone. I couldn't cry. I couldn't scream. I could only stare at the churning bubbles.

  Something bobbed to the surface, A second bundle, wrapped in black oilcloth. It bobbed and bounced, rocking on the surface, and then Corrie's head appeared beside it and her frail coffee-colored arms wrapped around it. Em cried out, and the sound seemed to come from a great distance. Jeremy Bond surfaced, head and torso plunging up through the water. He shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes and then swam over to the bundle and wrapped his arm around Corrie's shoulders. They stayed there for a few moments, treading water as the bubbles continued to break like huge wet balls all around them.

  I felt no relief. I was beyond relief. It seemed I had died myself and come back to life, and I was too nurnb to feel anything. I saw Corrie winding her arms around Jeremy's shoulders, half-lying on his back as he pushed away from the bundle and started swimming toward shore with the same strong, steady strokes he had used earlier, Corrie clung to him, and he swam as though she weren't there at all, his arms slicing effortlessly through the water. When he was able to touch bottom with his feet he paused and pulled her around in front of him and gave her a mighty hug. Both of them were laughing. They had almost died, and they were laughing like noisy children.

  I took my bundle and untied the cloak strings and pulled the cloak free, hardly aware of what I was doing. Jeremy brought Corrie to shore, and Randolph took her hand and pulled her out of the water. Em took the cloak from me, wrapping Corrie up in it. Corrie was smiling, beaming, pleased with herself, I wan
ted to shake her. I wanted to slap her. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her so tightly she gasped, squirming.

  "I'm all right, Miz Marietta," she protested. "I'm fine."

  "Damn you, Corrie. Damn you!"

  "We got lotsa good things. Mr. Jeremy put 'em on wooden planks so's they wouldn't sink and then wrapped 'em up in big black sheets and tied 'em up with rope."

  "Why! Why did you do it?"

  "I wanted to help. 'Sides, I swim like a fish."

  I couldn't say anything more. I cried. I cried at last, and Corrie was comforting me, smiling gently as she stroked my hair with her wet hand. Jeremy had swam back out toward the soggy 'canvas sails and broken masts, fetching one of the bundles, swimming back with it. Randolph waded out into the water and took hold of the bundle and Jeremy turned around, splashing like a porpoise, deliberately showing off. I was angry, so angry I was trembling, and I was so relieved I wanted to laugh just as they had laughed, joyously, like a child. I cried instead, and Corrie sighed as though I were being very unreasonable.

  Jeremy Bond returned to shore with the second bundle, climbed out of the water and shook himself like a great puppy, water flying in every direction. The pinkish-orange corduroy breeches were sodden, clinging welly to his legs and thighs, and the white cotton shirt was like a second skin, his tanned flesh visible beneath the wet cloth. The orange-red bandana hung wet and limp around his neck. He shoved wet tendrils of hair from his brow and looked at us and grinned. I wanted to slap his face.

  "We made it," he said.

  "Sure did," Corrie added.

  She pulled away from me and began to dry herself off with the cloak, grinning just like he was.

  "Little lass saved my life," Jeremy said.

  "Sure did," Corrie said.

  "Damn you both!" I cried.

  "What's the matter with her?" Jeremy asked.

  "Nerves, I guess," Corrie replied.

  "What happened?" Randolph asked.

  "I climbed in and went down the passage toward the armory, slipping, sliding, banging my head on the wall. The ship was rocking something terrible, but the water hadn't reached the armory or the galley, thank God. I half-stepped, half-fell into the armory and tore down one of the wooden shelves and set it on the floor and began to pile things on it, three rifles, several powder horns, a couple of bags of shot. I tore down another shelf and put it on top and wrapped it all up in oilskin, hoping the wood'd keep it afloat."

  "Sure enough it did," Corrie said.

  "Then I started to get another shelf down, and the ship pitched forward and I crashed against the wall and caught my foot in that big rack, you know which one I'm talkin' about, Randy, the big rack where we kept the muskets. Anyway, I tried to pull my foot free, but it was stuck, stuck bad, and the ship rocked some more and I knew I was a goner, I knew I'd never get my foot loose in time. Hell of a way to die, I thought, stuck in a rack like a rabbit in a trap. Real ironic, after all the danger I've faced in my lifetime."

  "For Christ's sake, get on with it!" Em snapped.

  "You'll be pleased to know I didn't panic. Didn't panic at all. Resigned myself to the inevitable, and then this little lass here come stumbling in like an apparition, wringing wet, and she saw my problem at once. Didn't say a word, didn't want to waste the time. She just grabbed a rifle and held it by the barrel and banged the butt against the rack, broke it to pieces, the rack, that is. I was mighty grateful, I can tell you."

  "I've a feeling you will," Em said dryly.

  "I gave her a quick hug, but I didn't say anything either, didn't want to waste time askin' questions and expressin' thanks. I picked up the bundle and the damned thing musta weighed a ton. The ship was rockin' from side to side, and I knew we only had a few minutes. I could feel it sinkin'. I started out of the armory and without bein' told Corrie here took hold of my belt in back of me, and I struggled back up the passageway, Corrie holdin' on for dear life."

  "You fell down," she prompted. "Don't forget that part."

  "Yeah, I fell down, dropped the bundle, started slipping, and here's the scary part—I could see the water at the other end of the passageway! Could see it risin', drawin' nearer. I scrambled back up and helped Corrie up and reached the hatch and heaved the bundle through it. Heard it splash. Corrie had already stepped into the galley. She was pulling down things, a big bag of coffee, a bag of sugar, a tin coffeepot, a big fryin' pan. I knew we oughta get out immediately, but I figured I might as well give her a hand. I tore down a couple of wooden shelves and—"

  "Do you have to tell us everything!" I cried.

  "I forgot the oilskin. It was back in the armory. I dashed back for it and brought it back and bundled everything up, tied it securely with a piece of rope and started toward the hatch again, Corrie right behind me. We had almost reached it when there was a great, scary lurch and water started pourin' in and the ship started sinkin' with us still aboard. We were underwater in less time than it takes to tell, I grabbed Corrie and put her hands between the bundle and the ropes and gave her a great shove through the hatch. I saw her shooting up, her legs disappearin', and then I started swimmin' myself and broke surface a minute later."

  "Christ! You could write a book about it," Em said acidly.

  "Might do that one day."

  "I hope the sugar and coffee and stuff didn't get wet," Corrie remarked. "It doesn't matter about the skillet, of course."

  "Everything should be dry as can be. I wrapped the oilskin around it several .times, tied it securely. Damn! I've got water in my ear."

  He banged the side of his head with the flat of his hand and then shook his head and sighed with relief. His clothes were already beginning to dry, for even though the sky was stained with pink and gold smears it was still quite warm. I was in control of myself now, tears dry, anger repressed, my manner cool and composed as I watched him plop down on the ground to pull on his boots. Corrie had retrieved her dress and was pulling it on while Randolph untied the bundles. Em looked as put out as I still felt.

  "What do we do now?" she asked.

  "We make camp for the night. Here on the shore will do. You and Marietta might gather some firewood. I'll catch some fish. We'll fry 'em."

  "Our hero probably frightened them all away."

  "I'll make some coffee," Corrie said, straightening her dress. "I got some tin cups, too. Only three, but we can share."

  "Dandy," Em said.

  "Fetch that firewood, gal!"

  "If I weren't a lady I'd tell you to take a flying leap at the moon."

  "It ain't out yet," Randolph retorted.

  Em gave an exasperated snort, and she and I left the others on the shore and moved into the surrounding woods. Em had momentarily forgotten about Karankawas and alligators and such and marched ahead quite intrepidly. Both of us had been shaken by what had happened, reacting in different ways. Her hands still shook a little as she picked up a small log and a handful of long sticks. The ground was much drier here, slightly sandy, and the cypress and willows had given way to tall palms and exotic, feathery-limbed trees I couldn't identify. We could hear waves washing over the shores beyond the cove and the sound of hearty voices as Jeremy and Randolph examined the things he had salvaged.

  "I was scared to death, luv," Em said.

  "So was I, Em."

  "It was bad enough when Jeremy climbed aboard that horrible wreck, but when Corrie leaped into the water I thought I was going to have heart failure. I don't ever want to go through another twenty minutes like that."

  "Neither do I."

  "It looks like we're going to have to walk home."

  I nodded, adding another small log to the armload I was already holding. Em clutched hers to her bosom, and we started back, walking slowly, palm fronds rattling overhead.

  "I know it sounds foolish, but I feel frightfully optimistic, luv. After all we've been through, walking to New Orleans should be a snap. At least we have two strong men to look after us, although I've got a sneaky feeling we're going to sp
end most of the time looking after them. Babies, both of them. A couple of overgrown boys."

  "I don't imagine we'll have to walk all the way, Em. We'll reach a settlement long before New Orleans and buy horses or something."

  "And guess who'll pay," she retorted. "Neither one of them have a penny in their pockets. We're going to have to sell a piece of jewelry or some of my candlesticks."

  "Got the wood, I see," Randolph said as we rejoined them, "Pile it up over there in that circle of rocks I set up. We'll build a fire a bit later. Right now I'm going to mosey on down a way and catch us some fish. I'm hungry as a bear."

  Em dropped her wood in the circle of rocks. "After all that turkey?" she inquired.

  "That was hours ago."

  "I'll go with you, Mister Randy," Gorrie said. "I know all about fishing. I used to catch lotsa catfish when we were at the plantation. There was a river, and I went there lots when Miz Henrietta didn't need me."

  "I'll let you bait my hooks."

  "You got hooks?"

  "I got wire. I'll make us some dandy hooks."

  "What are we going to use for bait?"

  "Reckon we can find some worms."

  "Grasshoppers would be better."

  "Jesus! Will you two go? On second thought, I'd better go with you to see you both don't fall in. I've never been fishing before. I'm sure I'll be fascinated."

  "Come on, then, if you're comin', but you'll have to keep quiet. Don't want to scare the fish."

  Em gave him one of her looks. He chuckled, and the three of them moved down the bank as though on their way to a party. Jeremy Bond was on his knees, sorting out powder horns and bags of shot. His clothes were completely dry now, but his hair was still damp, beginning to feather at the ends. He hadn't put his jacket back on. The thin white cotton shirt clung to his back and shoulders as he worked. After a while he stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of his breeches and gave me a satisfied nod.