Evelyn followed her friend’s gaze and hesitated, her silence filling with the distant droning of ‘Oh! Susanna’.
“I should like to believe the odds are in our favor,” she said softly. “After all, we have your dear Mr. Whitfield and our friend Mr. Donnigan to lead us. With two such champions, how are we to fail?”
Adele smiled slightly.
“Indeed. And what of Mr. Flynn? Shall he not be our champion as well?”
Evelyn slowly pulled the brush through her hair.
“I do not know if Mr. Flynn is capable of being anyone’s champion but his own, Adele.”
“Has nothing altered between you since you nursed him through the pestilence?”
“We are on speaking terms. He has expressed his gratitude, but I do not believe that what happened that night is enough to alter him entirely. His nature remains the same. He is selfish and wild, and though he knows he can trust me with his life, I cannot say I feel the same about him. He has done nothing to persuade me that he is capable of guardianship. He continues to drink, though his health declines. His actions have only served to disappoint, though my expectations were not high to begin with. It’s no matter. Mr. Donnigan is twice the man Mr. Flynn is.”
“Our Australian friend seems quite taken with you.”
“Yes, I believe he is. He has sworn to protect me, with or without Lucius.”
“It must be reassuring to know you are safe in the hands of such a man.”
“Indeed.”
Evelyn shifted in her seat and continued to brush her hair in silence. She felt squeamish and uncomfortable, and did not know whether to attribute her anxiety to the idea of disembarking the Steam Rose, or the conviction that every word she uttered screamed infidelity to the man who was secretly her husband.
Chapter Sixteen
The sky was cloudless. The wind was but a breath. The Steam Rose dropped anchor at eight in the morning off the coast of Panama, and the ocean was happy to accommodate her. As the ship bobbed along the steady waves, passengers crowded her decks, laden with luggage and equipped with all manners of knives and guns. The men were soon to be shipmates no more. From the moment their heels touched Panama soil, it was every man for himself. Still thousands of miles from California, the rush for gold would begin.
They were eager to be among the first to board the ferries into Chagres, aching to step foot on solid ground, but while they awaited transportation, they stood gaping at the scenery.
A bluff rose out of the sapphire waters of the bay, crowned with the Castillo de San Lorenzo. An old Spanish fort, its walls were a rustic brown, and came together in four symmetrical corners, which were capped with proud, picturesque spires. A fifth tower rose out of the center, its pale, domed roof gleaming in the sunlight.
It was a warm, enchanting fortress, very different from the cold, gray castles of Europe. It stood proudly on the highest point in Chagres, overlooking the port and its glistening white beaches. Sleepy huts, colorful natives, and bursting palm trees dotted the landscape.
How could such a paradise be so perilous?
Brock Donnigan marched purposefully towards the state room where Evelyn, Lucius, and the Whitfields were preparing for departure. He rapped on the door in hopes of seeing a female face, but it was Lucius who greeted him.
The Irishman peered out through slits of eyes, his expression hard. Brock instantly suspected that Evelyn had spoken with him, and it did not appear to have gone well.
Damn it. Today of all days.
“Morning,” Brock said, his voice gruffer than usual.
Somehow, Lucius’ eyes narrowed even more.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
The men stared at one another for a moment, when Lucius abruptly sighed and leaned his forehead against the doorjamb.
“I’m still drunk,” he moaned.
Brock almost laughed. The goose just had a headache.
“Have a late night, did you?” Brock teased. “My apologies, mate. You better look lively. Today is going to be difficult enough without you lumbering around like the ass we all know you are.”
“Duly noted, my friend. Please. Join us in our over-populated room.”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I came to drive the lot of you on deck. The ferries will be here soon, and we best be on the first we can manage.”
Lucius nodded once, confusion twisting his features.
“Right.”
Brock hesitated.
“On second thought,” he said, “I would rather not trust your liquor to deliver my message.”
“Damn fine idea,” Lucius laughed.
Brock shoved past him, only to be noticed by a red-faced Evelyn. She approached him as soon as their eyes met.
“Thank God you are here,” she said. “Lucius is driving me mad. He is a drunk, stumbling idiot. I have no idea what we are to do with him, Mr. Donnigan.”
“I can stuff him in a barrel and leave him to sail back to New York, if you like,” Brock replied, amused.
Evelyn knew Brock was not entirely joking.
“At the moment,” Evelyn said, “I would love to consider it, if not for the remorse that would follow once my temper cools. No. We must find some way to manage him.”
“I told you I would protect you, Miss Brennan. Not baby-sit your husband.”
Alarmed, Evelyn shushed him and looked over her shoulder, as Adele and the others were within hearing distance. The Whitfields, however, were shuffling about in such a frantic hurry that they heard nothing.
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“You must not say such things, Mr. Donnigan.”
“Mr. Donnigan!” Adele called out, her head buried in a trunk. “Welcome! I am dreadfully sorry for the chaos. We are nearly ready for departure, I assure you!”
While Brock asked where he could lend a hand, Evelyn scanned the room for Lucius. She discovered him collapsed onto one of the beds and hurried to shake him awake.
“Rouse yourself, Mr. Flynn!” she commanded.
He did not stir, so she leaned in close and whispered fiercely into his ear.
“Listen to me, Mr. Flynn. You need to collect yourself. You must pretend. You must pretend to be sober. We are getting off this ship and if you cannot manage yourself, you shall be left behind. Do you understand? Mr. Donnigan and I will go to California without you and steal all of your precious gold and you will spend the rest of your life sniveling at a desk in New York City.”
Lucius came to immediately.
“I will not!” he shouted.
Evelyn smiled, satisfied with his reaction.
“Then pull yourself together. We are leaving this wretched ship once and for all.”
* * *
There was an outburst of shouting and applause as someone announced the ferries were drawing near. They were thirty-foot, roughly hewn canoes, with room enough to seat fifteen men. Commandeering them were thin, dark natives, who wore naught but their leathery skin.
Adele, who sported a conspicuous white hat, threw her handkerchief across Evelyn’s vision.
“My dear Miss Brennan, you must shield your innocent eyes!”
Curious, Evelyn struggled to peak around the cloth, while Lucius, in his inebriation, found the spectacle highly amusing.
“A fine idea!” he exclaimed. “Why should not a man be free to roam naked beneath the white intensity of the sun? It is hot as Hades on this deck!”
A few surrounding men emitted a chorused, “hear, hear!”
More bodies crowded the deck, pressing close together in an attempt to gain proximity to the approaching ferries. Evelyn could not have seen the naked natives if she wanted to- which, as an unblemished eighteen-year-old virgin, how could she not?- for Brock Donnigan towered before her, and sweating bodies pressed against her from every side. One hand even slipped around her bottom and gave it a squeeze.
“I say!” she shrieked, spinning around to accost the culprit.
Fifty pairs of eyes stared back at her.<
br />
“Which one of you maggots touched me?” she demanded to know.
“What is the matter?” Lucius asked, already getting excited.
“One of these filthy scalawags just grabbed me!” Evelyn replied, too offended to remember that she was also supposed to be angry with Lucius.
“Oy!” Lucius shouted, hoisting two clenched fists. “Who did it, eh? Who’s the blasted boyo who touched m’lass, hm? ‘Fess up, now!”
No one confessed to the deed, though a few whiskers curved up in amused smiles. Lucius Flynn was reputed as a pugnacious drunk, and the men found him positively entertaining.
“Bless the Lord!” Adele proclaimed, oblivious to the ensuing altercation. “They have arrived!”
The canoes were prepared to be loaded, and there was instant hubbub as the passengers clamored and squeezed their way towards them. Brock led the way for his company, forcing a path through the bodies with Evelyn close behind. The Whitfields followed with Josephine and Bartholomew, when a flying elbow caught an unsuspecting Adele in the face, causing an instant nosebleed. Her white dress was ruined as Josephine attempted to steer her forward, a handkerchief pressed against her mistress’ mouth. Frightened by the ordeal, Bartie emitted a wail as Stephen shepherded his distressed family from the ship.
Distracted, Lucius lingered a moment longer on board. He was still upset, though he could not remember the reason why. He scanned the men around him, searching for clues, and singled out a particular face he had wanted to smash on several previous occasions. The countenance belonged to one Boris of Vermont, a man who had most recently caused Lucius financial pain in a game of whist. Obviously, this man was the villain Lucius was looking for.
Lucius threw a hook that blindsided Boris in the jaw, and a general outcry arose. He satisfied his ego by making sure that Boris got a good look at his offender, then suddenly realized the others had disappeared.
“Oy!” he cried once more, searching frantically for Adele, Josephine, and Evelyn. “I’ve lost my women!”
A chorus of shouting filled the air as one body shoved against another, and those nearby could not tell if the blood on their shirt was Boris’ or their own. Amidst the chaos, Lucius realized his party had boarded the ferry, and as he stepped off the Steam Rose, a brawl churned in his wake.
“What the devil were you up to?” Brock asked as Lucius stepped aboard the ferry.
Lucius dusted off his shirt and checked himself for stains. He had escaped without a trace of blood, thank God, though that poor Whitfield woman could not say the same. He wondered what had happened to her.
“I had some last minute business to attend to,” he shrugged. He glanced at the faces around him, and when he saw Evelyn, he recalled why the brawl with Boris had ensued in the first place.
He offered her a smug smile.
“I’m pleased to tell you, Miss Brennan, that I got your man.”
At being addressed, Evelyn was shocked out of her fascinated study of their native boatswain’s visible manhood. Her eyes darted to Lucius, her face scrunched up in confusion.
“My what?”
“Your man!” Lucius repeated, oblivious to her anatomical observations. “The one who molested you. I gave the boyo a solid lick.”
“Someone touched you?” Brock asked Evelyn, who was staring at Lucius with a bemused expression.
“Yes, and I taught him a lesson,” Lucius added with obvious pride. “You need never fear, Miss Brennan, for I am not all yellow. I do have a bit of courage, and I have avenged you!”
Adele Whitfield laughed from beneath her handkerchief.
“Miss Brennan, I daresay your guardian is a better protector when he has a few drinks in his blood,” she said. “He may prove his worth to you, yet!”
“I should think Mr. Flynn could do a great many things if he only put his mind to it,” Evelyn agreed. “After all, we are here, he and I, and that is his fault entirely.”
Brock did not look amused.
“You should consider the risk you put us in when you decide to drink away your fortune, Mr. Flynn,” he told Lucius. “I’m not about to let you sabotage our safety because you can’t hold your grog.” He turned to the other members of their party. “All in favor of Mr. Flynn abstaining from alcohol for the remainder of this expedition, cast your vote.”
All hands drifted into the air, for although Lucius was certainly entertaining, his inebriation was not at all worth the further endangerment of their journey.
“What?” Lucius asked. “Who made you lord over us, Mr. Donnigan?”
“Sobriety is the first thing in my favor, Mr. Flynn. Besides, your charge has made it clear that you, as her protector, are incompetent. I, however, have proven myself otherwise.”
Lucius was upset again, and the others aboard the ferry became acutely uncomfortable. Especially Evelyn.
She tried not to let her eyes wander back to the boatswain, whose naked brown muscles were glistening in the heat. How in God’s name was she supposed to endure all these men?
“You?” Lucius scoffed at Brock Donnigan. “You, sir, are not entitled!”
“And you are?” Brock argued. “What recommends you, I wonder? Your childhood frolics? Your wondrous abilities with cards and the fiddle? As Miss Brennan’s guardian, you should have been by her side every moment at sea. You have no idea what perverse situations you subjected her to by leaving her vulnerable aboard a ship with three hundred men. I, on the other hand, have been her devoted companion, and plan to remain so henceforth.”
“Is that right, laddie?” Lucius puffed out his chest. “As I have known Evelyn her entire life, I am willing to excuse your appalling insult to her capabilities as a woman. Miss Brennan, as you are obviously unaware, is the last woman in the world I should worry myself over. She is strong, passionate, and resilient, and entirely capable of defending herself. She did not need me as her shadow any more than she needed you, Mr. Donnigan!”
Evelyn’s ears could not help perking up at this unexpected praise.
“I think your argument was nullified only moments ago,” Brock said, “when you allowed her to be molested on deck!”
“Gentlemen, please!” Evelyn interrupted. “Lay the matter to rest. As we are to advance as one unit from now on, we must look out for one another. We must not squabble like children.”
“Well, I want to know just who this man thinks he is!” Lucius continued. “What gives him the right to waltz into our lives and order us about, as if he knew anything about us? It’s no wonder the blackguard never wanted to play cards; it was never my friendship you wanted, was it Mr. Donnigan? You were just trying to get close to my…” Lucius stopped before he could say wife, catching his blunder. “My… my dear Evelyn! Miss Brennan is practically my sister, sir! And I am not so venomous as to actually allow any harm to come to her! She is my charge!”
“Calm down, Lucius,” Evelyn murmured, her eyes pleading. “Mr. Donnigan only means to help.”
Brock nodded sternly and leaned close to Lucius. The boat rocked with the shift in weight, and the others found themselves clutching its wooden edges.
“The lady is right,” Brock said. “It is not my intention to cause division. Mr. Flynn, it is merely my wish to partner with you, to lend an extra hand in seeing this fellowship safely to California. I know a thing or two about survival. Allow me to be of service to all of you.”
He extended a hand to Lucius, who, chest heaving, looked back and forth between the peace offering and its witnesses.
Evelyn thought Lucius looked very young, like a wild colt backed into a stable. She almost pitied him. He needed to sleep, and he needed to eat.
Lucius had no more experience adventuring than Evelyn, and the Whitfields possessed the soft hands and sensitive white skin of English high society. If what they knew of Chagres was true, there was no way they could manage alone. Brock Donnigan was a Godsend to them all. They needed him.
“Take his hand, Mr. Flynn,” she told Lucius. “We are all in this tog
ether.”
Lucius met her gaze.
“It’s for the best,” she added.
“Come, Mr. Flynn,” Stephen Whitfield chimed in. “Let us commence our journey with the strong foot of unity.”
Brock Donnigan waited until, finally, Lucius Flynn accepted his hand.
“Good man,” Brock said.
“We work together,” Lucius replied. “No man better than the other.”
“You stay away from the grog, mate, and you’re my equal.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
All eyes turned towards the shore, which they were fast approaching. Some of the returning canoes had already beached, and a crowd was forming where the ocean met with the mouth of the river.
“Prepare yourselves, mates,” Brock uttered quietly. “The Rush is about to begin.”
Brock reached over and took Evelyn’s hand. Startled, her eyes darted to his.
“Remember what I told you,” he whispered. “Stick close to me.”
She nodded, unblinking.
Across the ferry, Lucius watched, bewildered. Was Mr. Donnigan going to hold everyone’s hand through this next venture?
Lucius thought not.
Something was going on here, and Lucius felt his temper rising once more. This guy was really starting to get under his skin, and Lucius didn’t think it was because of the alcohol. The effect of last night’s drinking was finally wearing off, leaving him with a headache and a very suspicious outlook on the world around him.
Brock released Evelyn’s hand as fast as he had taken it, for before the canoe had come to a stop, passengers began jumping off the sides into the shallow water, luggage in tow. The boat rocked violently, threatening to capsize, leaving Lucius with little time to dwell on the scene that had just transpired before him.
The ferry ran ashore, and what followed was a frantic blur of motion. Laden with trunks and boxes of all shapes and sizes, the lot of adventurers plunged their feet into the soft, hot sand. They raced towards the nearby canal, following the long legs of the Australian, their self-appointed leader.
Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Page 15
