Saving Miss Everly

by Britton, Sally

  “Detestable,” Irene muttered. Hope ignored her this time. She wanted to enjoy her meal rather than soothe her friend’s wounded sensibilities.

  * * *

  Assured that everyone had eaten, Alejandro went on water fetching duty. He reflected again on what must be done to help the newcomers adapt to the island. Miss Everly had withdrawn to the shelter when her friend did, casting him a look which clearly communicated her frustration.

  That left the burden of caring for the group to himself, the three sailors, and Thorne. It would not take long for resentment to build, should more than half the group not take part in necessary chores. The first day, they might be excused from working toward survival, given that Alejandro’s presence assured its possibility. But the next day, Alejandro would need to force them into action.

  He saw no more of the ladies that night, except when the three of them slipped quietly out of the hovel to attend to personal needs nearby. They did not come out again. It had to be hotter than a galley kitchen in the shelter. He rarely used it himself, except in cases of storms or after the sun had gone down.

  The men gathered around the fire again, after banking the coals. The sailors talked amongst themselves in a language that was a mix of several tongues. The doctor settled with his back against the hovel itself. He likely took up that position to be near if his wife or the other ladies had any need of him. Thorne settled himself near Alejandro, at the edge of the clearing. The irksome Carlbury stayed near the fire.

  “What was your life like, before this?” Thorne asked as the sky darkened.

  “Before the island, or before all of you turned up on its shores?” Alejandro asked, picking up a long twig to twist in his hands. He tried to always keep busy. It was the surest way to keep his mind his own, to give it tasks and stay occupied. He had baskets he’d woven from long grasses and twigs inside his shelter. The roof was in good repair. There were snares around the island to catch unsuspecting birds and lizards. He fished. He used fibers from the trees to weave into thin ropes for nets.

  Every day, he worked for survival. To liven things up, sometimes he slept during the day and worked all night.

  “Before the island,” Thorne clarified. “How did you end up here? Where were you before? Obviously you have some education.”

  Was this an attempt to place Alejandro somewhere along the rungs of society? The very thought made his spine stiffen. It hardly mattered whether he had been a prince or a poor sailor. Yet while he studied Thorne, who waited patiently for an answer, Alejandro sensed no ill will. Only curiosity. He gripped his mother’s ring where it dangled from the chain about his neck.

  “I am the only son of a Spanish Don. My father left Spain to colonize in Río De La Plata. My life was…” He shrugged and twisted the twig back over on itself. “I think the word is privileged.”

  “Your English is exceptional.” Thorne settled back on the ground, putting an arm behind his head. “Why did you leave the Spanish colonies? For education?”

  “Something like that.” Alejandro tossed the stick away. He had never wanted to leave. Only his father’s commands, his mother’s pleas, had made him board a ship bound for the northern continent and what he might learn in the former British colonies. That journey had been about his political education. But he supposed it had taught him more than he might have known of the world otherwise.

  The stars came out before darkness had completely fallen. They flickered to life in the sky like far distant candles lit in a cathedral, each one a prayer or a dream in the night.

  Did his mother still light candles for him, or had she given up praying for a son the ocean had swallowed?

  12

  “Foraging.” Hope looked up from her place near the fire when Alejandro spoke the single word with a tone bordering on hostile. “Today, I will teach you what you can and cannot eat. Fish will not be enough to sustain you.”

  He wasn’t speaking to her, but to all gathered at the fire. When the opening of the shelter finally framed the gray light of dawn, Hope had crawled off her bed of leaves and into the morning air. Though surprised at first by the coolness of the day, and the dew beneath her feet, as soon as the sun crested the horizon she warmed considerably. Sitting on a rock, her toes in the dirt, Hope had been combing her fingers through her hair again. Trying to ignore the desire to seek Alejandro out. He had made it clear he had no wish to be near her.

  “I hardly think it necessary to go traipsing about the island looking for fruit and nuts.” Albert’s surly response surprised Hope not a whit. Why the man had persisted in being something of a mannerless layabout, she couldn’t say. Perhaps he did not enjoy the fact that someone could claim more experience and cleverness than himself at something.

  “You do not think it necessary?” Alejandro repeated dryly.

  Mr. Thorne jerked up to his feet. He had fetched the water that morning and had appeared rather determined to keep busy, even if that meant nothing more than shoving rocks and logs about to provide better seating around the fire. “I should like to join you, Córdoba.”

  Had those two become friendly? That put both gentlemen up higher in Hope’s estimation. She stood too, tucking her hair back behind her ears. “As would I.”

  Irene, who had come to sit near the fire, shook her head without looking up at Hope. “It is not an occupation for a lady, Grace.”

  Then whose job is it? Hope knew well enough that ladies gathered flowers from gardens and fruit from their orchards from time to time. Women sowed seeds alongside farmer-husbands, too. If Irene meant to be waited upon hand and foot, she must expect someone to do the waiting.

  “I am thinking only of helping the group as much as possible,” Hope assured her, patting Irene on the shoulder as she had seen Grace do in the past to soothe agitated people. “It will be like gathering flowers or herbs. Then you may have more than fish to eat.”

  “The doctor will not like it,” Albert said hotly.

  “I will not like what?” Doctor Morgan emerged from the shelter where he had asked for privacy to examine his wife’s injuries again. He came out with his coat over his arm this time. Perhaps he had finally realized that maintaining proper dress was the very least of their problems.

  Hope looked down at her own gown. It had once been such a lovely shade of blue. Now it was dingy, with strips of brown and gray from her time sitting and sleeping on the ground, not to mention her soiled hem from walking about. Everything about her person had become brown except for her face. The tightness of the skin across her cheeks informed her well enough that she had sunburned.

  “I am taking a party in search of food.” Alejandro stood in his confident manner, on the balls of his feet, arms crossed over his nearly threadbare shirt. “Mr. Thorne and Miss Everly have volunteered.”

  “We can come,” the largest sailor, Madden, said from where he and the other two dark-skinned men had sat to whittle at long sticks. They appeared to be making more spears, perhaps for fishing.

  Alejandro nodded at them, accepting their presence in his party with ease.

  “There. You need no more people than that.” Albert remained lounging indolently on the ground, leaned back against a log Thorne had exerted himself to pull from the trees into the clearing. He cast a glance at his sister. “The ladies would do better to attend to Mrs. Morgan.”

  Another hot day spent in the shelter was the very last thing Hope desired. She shook her head and opened her mouth to remind Albert he had no say in what she did or did not do, but the doctor spoke before she could.

  “I think it a fine idea for Miss Everly to go, and I shall accompany them. It is my hope to find some of the plants I know to be medicinal. Mrs. Morgan could use some relief from her pain.” He pulled his coat on again. “Will you need the baskets from the shelter?”

  “Of course we will.” Hope did not wait for anyone to say another word about her. She hurried into the shelter, ready to make herself useful. The baskets inside were not what one would find in an Englis
h market, but she had examined them the day before and found them to be tightly woven. It seemed Alejandro had done what he could to use his resources wisely.

  Mrs. Morgan rolled over when Hope entered, her eyes glittering slightly. “Miss Everly. I hear everyone talking out there. What is going on?”

  Hope briefly explained the food-gathering expedition as she gathered up the four baskets available to her. All of them had covers, like lids, affixed to the top with clever bits of fiber forming hinges. “The doctor hopes to find you medicinal herbs,” she said at the last.

  “One can only hope he will be successful.” Mrs. Morgan winced and turned onto her back again. “I do ache so.”

  “We will do all we can to help.” Hope offered an encouraging smile. “I will see you soon, and I will bring you something delicious to eat.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Mrs. Morgan closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

  As Hope approached the door, Irene appeared. Her wrinkled forehead and pursed lips clearly communicated her state of mind, but when she spoke there was no word to describe her but peevish. “I cannot believe you would rather traipse about in the dirt, without shoes and stockings, no bonnet or parasol, to pick filthy plants and roots like a common peasant. You ought to let the men see to the situation.”

  Hope bit back her tart response. Irene’s amiable nature had vanished the moment hardship came their way, and while some of her complaints might be excused, her comments had begun to nettle Hope. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, slowly, and counted to five before answering. “Many hands make light work, and the more of us who are knowledgeable of the island will mean we are better prepared for any further hardships.”

  “Albert says we will be rescued in no more than a week.” Irene’s chin tipped upward. “Especially if we light a signal fire.”

  “Señor Córdoba advised against doing such a thing.” Did Irene really need the reminder? “Depleting the green plants to make a smoky fire that no one might be looking for might only cause us harm.”

  Irene scoffed. “Why do you think that man has been stuck here for so long? He hasn’t the intelligence to escape. Likely he is a common servant or sailor who wrecked as we did. Men of greater understanding ought to be in command.”

  “Miss Carlbury,” the doctor’s wife called from where she rested. “What has my husband to say on the matter? He is well educated in terms of the islands in the West Indies.”

  That question made Irene wince and lower her gaze to the ground. “Doctor Morgan is in favor of doing as that Spanish man says.”

  Relaxing somewhat, Hope gifted Mrs. Morgan a thankful smile. “Then we should do as Doctor Morgan says. I am certain if he thinks there is something Señor Córdoba ought to do differently, he will say so. Now. If you two will excuse me, I am certain the men are waiting on these baskets.” Hope stepped around her friend, keeping a sunny smile upon her face.

  “Ah, here you are, Miss Everly.” Doctor Morgan bowed to her and held his hand out. “Might I take a basket from you?”

  Madden came forward and held his hands out for another, bowing slightly to her with a “Thank you, miss.” Then Mr. Thorne took a basket, leaving Hope with the smallest of them which she hugged to herself so no one would try to remove it from her grasp.

  “Bueno.” Alejandro surveyed Hope, Mr. Thorne, the doctor, and the three sailors. Mr. Gibson, the professor, slept beneath the trees, snoring as though he were on holiday rather than in a dangerous situation which required his awareness. “Come with me. There are quite a few fruit trees nearby.”

  He gestured to the trees and took the path Hope had tried to follow him down the day before. Mr. Thorne followed, then the doctor gestured for Hope to go next, with him behind her and the sailors following at the end of the row.

  Alejandro’s voice rose to be heard over the sounds of their footsteps in the leaves and brush. “There are many plants I have found that are safe to eat. Pero, if any of you see something you recognize, I hope you will share. I discovered most of what was healthy through tests.” He chuckled, the sound without humor somehow.

  Thorne’s tone was somewhat shocked. “How often did you poison yourself?”

  “A handful of times.” Because she was marching behind them down the hill, Hope saw the broad shrug of Alejandro’s shoulders. “What else could I do?”

  As his words settled in her mind, her heart squeezed in sympathy. The poor man. All alone and without knowledge of the plant life, he had eaten likely any number of things that did not agree with him. Could she have done the same? Eaten plants that she knew might very well kill her? She shuddered. It would take true desperation for her to take such a risk.

  As they walked, Alejandro pointed to various trees and talked of whether or not he had found them useful for any reason at all. Some made his fires smell terrible, others were favored homes to birds. They were passing a tall tree bearing drooping, feathery leaves and long brown pods when the doctor cried out.

  “Mimosa tree,” he shouted, his eyes widening. “This is perfect.”

  Alejandro stopped, as did the others, and put his hands on his hips while he studied the tree. “I admit, I did not find this tree particularly helpful.”

  “The bark, the branches, are medicinal.” The doctor left the path and went straight for the tree, his basket tucked under one arm while he reverently stroked the trunk. “It induces sleep and eases pain.” His voice shook somewhat as his hand gripped a loose strip of the bark. He pulled it back, inspecting it carefully before opening his basket.

  A branch hanging low over the path was near enough for Hope to touch. She reached her hand out, stroking the feathery leaves, and then gasped as the leaves folded together tightly.

  “It is a sensitive plant,” Alejandro said. He had stepped nearer, likely to watch the doctor. His rich brown eyes studied her before he turned his attention to the leaves, reaching up to touch them himself with one long finger. The leaves closed, as they had at her touch, as though shrinking away from the attention. “The reaction has always fascinated me.”

  “How strange,” Hope whispered, staring at the greenery.

  “In the spring and early summer, it is covered in flores rosadas.” When she looked at him again, her eyebrows raised, he met her gaze and shrugged. “Pink flowers.”

  The doctor came back, tucking a thin branch into his basket and closing its lid. “I cannot believe this find. Mrs. Morgan will be grateful.”

  Alejandro nodded, then continued down the path. Rather than fall back in line, Hope lengthened her step to keep up with him. Thorne fell just behind her, speaking with the doctor about the tree. Of course, she remembered, he had claimed an interest in botany when they first proposed their outing to another island.

  After a few moments, Alejandro glanced at Hope and shook his head somewhat, as though his private thoughts about her were not entirely pleasant.

  Rather used to people looking askance at her, Hope was unprepared for Alejandro’s disapproving expression and it smarted her feminine pride. He had called her beautiful. Now, she didn’t know what he thought.

  Hope forced a smile onto her face, trying to ignore her feelings. Despite the perspiration at her brow, and the roughness of the ground beneath her feet, she needed to find the joy and wonder in the moment. Had she not had a mind bent toward adventure and courageous exploits, she very well might have been as hysterical or irritable as Irene.

  “Are you tired, Miss Everly?” Alejandro asked, facing forward again.

  “Not at all. I enjoy the exercise.” She meant her words, too. Though even if she had been tired, Hope would not have said so. Her bravado had seen her through too many scrapes to let it go in the midst of the greatest calamity to ever befall her.

  “I think Miss Everly must be distantly related to Magellan,” Mr. Thorne said from behind, reminding her nothing she said was private during this march. “Not many young ladies of my acquaintance would sound as delighted by this romp as they would be by taking a
turn in a park.”

  Hope sniffed and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Perhaps they would, sir. I cannot think many young ladies of your acquaintance have had the opportunity to prove themselves equal to the task.”

  Mr. Thorne chuckled and a genuinely pleasant expression appeared on his face. Yes, Hope saw why Irene found the gentleman appealing. He was a pleasant sort, and handsome. Yet he had said he was as good as engaged, and that ought to have been enough to keep Irene from staring after him.

  Hope faced forward again, in time to see Alejandro holding a branch out of her way. As a true gentleman would. How Albert and Irene could doubt that about him she did not know. Surely anyone forced to endure what he had would appear more than a little rough around the edges. But he had kept his sanity and treated those now encroaching upon him with respect. Except Albert, which made sense as the man had been wretched to Alejandro.

  “Ah, here we are.” Alejandro stopped them near a large flowering shrub. “I knew this one was safe.”

  One of the sailors whistled a cheerful note. “Firebush.”

  The tall, thinly branched shrub was covered in leaves of green and gold, with purple fruit that appeared rather like grapes hanging from the smaller branches. The sailors fell to gathering them with haste and wide grins. They must be delicious given the excitement with which the men reacted.

  “Have you never had them?” Alejandro asked. “They grow near my home, too.” He plucked a purple berry where it nestled among several that were red. “Try it.”

  Hope studied the fruit before taking it slowly from his palm, the tips of her fingers brushing his warm hand. “Is it like a grape?” She turned it about, studying the shining peel.

  Alejandro raised his eyebrows, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. What must he look like without his beard and long hair? Likely quite handsome, given how he managed to be charming even while attempting to act surly. “Are you afraid of it?”