Chapter 7 MermaidNymph?
Drawing in a deep breath of salty sea air, Caleb braced his boots on the shifting deck and scanned the horizon.
Naught but an azure sea, sparkling in the noonday sun, spanned out in all directions.
He usually felt in control, at ease upon these waters, but not of late.
The sea was in his blood, its salt sprinkled throughout his veins, waves and wind were his constant companions.
He loved it all. The adventure, the freedom, and the beauty and majesty of God’s creation.
Yet ever since embarking on this journey, his spirit had been restless as if he was searching for something.
Something of eternal importance, something bigger than himself, yet something just out of reach.
The sudden appearance of the strange woman only added more confusion and distress.
Beneath him on the main deck, Alden cupped his hands and shouted, “Lay aloft, and don’t dawdle like Sunday sinners.
Trim those tops’ls afore the wind passes us by!
” Then taking the quarterdeck ladder in two leaps, he approached Caleb.
His quartermaster and friend always knew when Caleb needed a listening ear.
“You have that look in your eye, Captain. Is it the woman or something else?”
In truth, it was many things, but the woman most of all. “She baffles me like none other.”
“Did she tell you how she came aboard?”
Caleb laughed and gripped the quarterdeck railing. “She says she hails from the future.”
Chuckling, Alden gazed out at sea then up at the men in the tops adjusting sail. “My guess is she must be mad or a witch as Ayida said.”
Leaning toward Alden, Caleb lowered his voice. “She had the Ring.”
“Faith now!” Alden thumbed the scar across his cheek and gave an incredulous snort. “How?” He glanced down at the main deck where Liam strolled, inspecting the rigging. “Was it not in—?”
“Aye. Last I saw it.” Wind blasted over Caleb, and he snapped hair from his face. “I have no clue how she knew where to look. Only you and I knew its hiding place.”
“Hmm. Most curious. Someone must have sent her aboard. Someone who knows about the Ring.”
“But who? Only my family knows.”
Alden nodded, rubbing his jaw.
“The strange thing is,” Caleb said. “I could swear I’ve seen her before. There’s something familiar, even haunting about her.” Feeling foolish, he shrugged. “Just add it to the other mishaps we’ve had on this mission.”
“It has been quite the adventure already.” Alden shook his head. “That leak in the hold that ruined our rice.”
“Then that sudden squall that threw us off course.”
“And don’t forget the galleon that almost sank us,” Alden added.
Caleb blew out a sigh. “Indeed. Seems someone or something doesn’t wish me to complete my mission.”
Alden gripped Caleb’s shoulder. “But you are strong. You are your father’s son. With God’s help, we will be victorious.”
A blast of brine-laden wind swirled around them as if adding a seal of approval to Alden’s statement.
Though not much older than Caleb, his quartermaster possessed a wisdom far beyond his years, along with a faith in God that put Caleb’s to shame. Which was probably the reason Caleb’s father had asked him to join the Sentinel. More proof of Caleb’s inadequacy, his need to be watched over.
Sunlight bounced off the man’s wooden cross, and Caleb gripped his own silver one. A gift from his father. Now, if only Caleb could measure up to such a mighty man of God.
Yet hadn’t he already destroyed any chance of that? “Seems I am not destined to such victories, my friend.”
“Nonsense.” Alden studied him. “You must release the past, you know.”
“Hard to do when I cannot escape the pain in my sister’s eyes. Or the screams of the dying in my nightmares.”
The ship bucked over a wave, and Alden adjusted his stance. “You take on too much. Leave the past where it belongs and accept God’s forgiveness.”
“As you keep telling me.”
“And I will continue until you follow my wise advice.” He arched a playful brow.
“You sound like my father.”
“That pleases me more than you know.” Alden glanced aloft and shouted. “Ho there, Spike, God gave us wind, don’t waste it! Sheet ’em home and let her fly.” Then turning to Caleb again, “So what are you going to do about this strange woman?”
Shaking his head, Caleb crossed arms over his chest. “I do not know. Something about her. She seems sincere. Yet, I was so terribly wrong about Geneviève. I don’t trust myself. What do you think?”
“You’re the captain. ’Tis your decision.”
Aye, he was. And oft the weight of that responsibility felt far too heavy. “She knows about the Ring. I must find out why and how. Either way, I cannot release her yet, or she’ll surely tell someone of its existence.”
Alden shielded his eyes from the sun. “We will soon be at the location. Then you can complete your mission.”
“I long to toss the foul thing overboard right now. Be rid of it. Perhaps ’tis the reason for all our mishaps of late.”
Alden nodded. “Aye. But your father said it could only be destroyed at that precise spot.”
Mark this, Caleb, his father had said. Sail northwest from the southern tip of Eleuthera until Polaris rests a handspan above the horizon.
At 25 degrees, 3 minutes North, and by my calculation, some 71 degrees, 2 minutes West, lies the place of reckoning.
When the moon is high and the waters lie still, drop anchor.
You’ll know the place, the mouth of the Devil, himself.
That is where the Ring must be cast into the sea—where sky and water meet in unnatural calm.
It wasn’t like his father to speak with such mystery and awe, as if failure to do as he asked would bring about the end of the world.
Caleb snorted. Nay, he’d rather be rounding up pirates, attacking Spanish merchants, or defending the poor and disadvantaged.
Not escorting a silly Ring only to throw it into the sea.
But then again, nothing connected with this Ring made any sense.
Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Liam behind them. When had his bosun joined them on the quarterdeck? Better yet, how much had he overheard, for Caleb did not want him knowing about the Ring. Nor anyone else aboard the ship.
He turned to Shorty, the helmsman, “Two points north by northwest. Keep her steady.” Aye, they would make their way to the Devil’s Mouth, as his father called the spot.
Trouble was, with all the recent disasters and strange happenings, Caleb couldn’t be sure that once they got there, it would not swallow them whole.
?
Clutching the captain’s cloak tightly to her chest, Desi paced the tiny cabin, as she’d been doing most of the night.
A ray of sunlight pierced the gloom and shifted up and down over her hand with the movements of the ship.
Her hand. She’d been staring at it for hours.
Would the beast really cut it off as he had threatened?
If so, she’d never be able to dive again, to captain a ship, to run her business!
Halting, she bit her lip. What was she thinking?
Tossing the Ring down had done no good. She was still here—wherever here was. Or whenever it was.
And now she had no idea how to get back home.
Worse, she was at the mercy of some crazed missionary pirate. Only a dream could be this bizarre. But how to wake herself up?
The lock on the door clanked, and she backed against the bulkhead, awaiting her fate, a butcher perhaps with an axe and a gleam in his eye as he stared at her hand.
An African American woman stepped inside, the same one she’d seen in the captain’s cabin, the same one who had called her an evil witch.
Yet now, the whites of her eyes widened as they studied Desi with apprehension…
or was it curiosity? At least they weren’t filled with spite as they’d been yesterday.
The woman took another step forward and held out a bundle of fabric. “Captain says put this on.” Her voice was deep and soothing, almost musical, yet not angry or hateful. “An’ here’s a biscuit to break your fast.”
Desi took the dress and the biscuit, which felt more like a rock. “Thank you.”
The woman turned to leave.
“What is your name?”
She spun around. “Ayida, Miss Ayida Noire.”
“I hear French in your voice, Ayida.”
“Creole.”
“Yes, of course.” If Desi remembered her history, Creole was both a language and a person of mixed descent between European and Black.
Ayiida folded her hands atop a red apron that was tied around her dress. A matching scarf hid her hair. Still, she remained, studying Desi as if she were some oddity.
If she only knew.
“Do you still think I’m a witch?” Desi dared ask.
“I don’t knows what you are, Miss. I’s just protectin’ de captain as best I can.”
Desi nodded. “How do you come to be on this ship?”
“De captain hired me as cook.” A slight smile prompted Desi to keep the woman talking. The more she knew about the ship and the captain, the better.
“What do you know about him?”
“I knows he’s a good man. I was alone an’ starving on de streets of Jamaica when de captain an’ his father rescued me.”
Ah, so maybe the missionary part was true. “How long have you sailed with him?”
“A few months.”
Desi gripped her hand and began rubbing it. “Would he cut off my hand as he threatened?”
At this, the woman chuckled, and her warmth set Desi at ease.
“Depends on what you did.” She waved toward the dress.
“But I don’t think he’d be providing a gown for you if he was going to do dat.
” She raised a brow and then turned to leave.
“I’ll bring dinner later,” she said before slamming the door.