Chapter 17
Iheard voices as if I were underwater, and I half wondered if I’d fallen overboard. But I felt hands on my arms and my head lying on someone’s lap. I tried to see whose it was, but there were only blurry faces above me. Far too many faces, peering at me like I was a fascinating creature in a cage.
“Elsie, answer me,” I heard Mr. Ashby’s voice say.
I looked straight above me, and my eyes focused enough that I could see the worry in his eyes, his brows deeply creased.
His lips were parted, dry and cracked from lack of water.
His skin was peeling from days of being exposed to the sun.
I must have looked the same. “Elsie, can you hear me?” he asked.
“Move aside,” someone said. The crowd who had been staring at me made way for an average-looking man wearing spectacles. He bent over me and checked my face for a second before lifting a canteen to my mouth and bidding me to drink blessed, glorious water.
I grabbed the canteen and drank deeply, the liquid spilling down my neck and onto the deck.
“All right, that’s enough. You’ll waste it.” The man pulled it back and I was left wanting more. “She seems fine, just collapsed from lack of food and water.” He said this to Mr. Ashby, who was still holding me against him. As if he had no intention of ever letting me go.
I looked up at him again, seeing him watching the man who’d given me water with an expression like gratitude. He met my eyes and gave me a hint of a smile. Then, as if he’d just remembered what had occurred before I fainted, he lifted his head to look at one of the people standing over us.
“What do you mean ‘Who are you?’ What are you playing at?” His voice was hoarse but severe.
Following his gaze, I saw who he spoke to.
Graham. That hadn’t been a dream? My eyes widened and I stared at Graham Anderson, the man I loved, who had actually said those words to me.
“Who…are you?” My heart thudded. Surely he didn’t mean that.
But as Graham looked between Mr. Ashby and me, the evidence was clear as day. He did not recognize either of us.
“Is she the woman in your pocket watch, Slate?” the woman from earlier said. Slate? Graham glanced at her and then back at me warily.
He shook his head. “I…dinnae ken.”
Mr. Ashby helped me sit up and looked around with frustration. I could feel the buzz of it from my position against him. He narrowed his glare on Graham. “What’s going on here? Graham, what is the meaning of this?”
He looked at Patrice, who I’d barely noticed sitting next to me. She’d been so quiet and still. “Help me,” he said before standing. Patrice took hold of me and he moved toward Graham. He looked up into his face, scrutinizing him. “What is wrong with you?”
The woman stepped between them, holding off Mr. Ashby. Her kind face had transformed into the tense expression of a warrior. “That’s enough. Don’t treat him that way. It’s not his fault he doesn’t remember you.”
Mr. Ashby went quiet and waited, as I did, for some explanation. I couldn’t stop watching Graham. He put a hand behind his head and rubbed his neck nervously. He seemed as if he would run away at any moment. Was this truly my Graham? I had never seen him look so anxious before.
“He was found nearly beaten to death in Basseterre and woke up without a single memory of his past, except his name.” The woman spoke with hands on her hips, standing in front of Graham like his protector.
“He doesn’t remember…anything?” Mr. Ashby’s voice was quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear. He glanced back at me as I stood and slowly walked forward with Patrice’s help.
I approached Graham—or tried. The woman still stood in the way. Her hard gaze almost made me back up, but I didn’t. I raised my eyebrows at her and spoke with precise diction. “I am his betrothed.”
Her mouth opened slightly, closed, and then opened again. She wanted to say something, but I’d apparently rendered her speechless. She stepped aside and I was able to stand right in front of the man I’d once given my heart to.
“Do you truly not remember me?” I asked him in a near whisper.
Graham looked around again with helpless confusion before shaking his head. “I-I’m sorry, Miss…”
It took every bit of effort I had to not cry.
I lifted my chin and told him exactly who I was.
“Elspeth Findlay of Edleroy Castle. You and I have been bonded together since we were young. We made a promise to marry three years ago, when you returned from your business ventures in the West Indies.” I gestured to the exotically beautiful woman behind us.
“She said…you have a likeness of me in your pocket watch. I gave that to you.” My eyes never left his face, but he looked around as if asking for assistance.
“I came to find you, Graham. I was worried something had happened to you. And apparently…something has.” I frowned deeper, my heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as I watched him.
“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt.” Then I saw a scar on the side of his head stretching from his hairline to his eyebrow.
I reached out to touch it and he flinched away.
Our eyes met. His had always been so open and familiar. They’d been so uniquely his, but now they were like any other brown eyes I’d seen. I didn’t recognize them at all. I clenched my jaw once again to keep from crying.
The entire ship had become nearly silent as they watched our interaction. Only the creaking of the wood sounded as it swayed in the waves. Then a loud boom distracted everyone from the drama unfolding before them. We all looked around with alarm.
“Cannon fire!” someone called from above. “A ship’s being attacked!”
Without further ado, everyone scrambled to their positions and the crew began yelling to each other. Graham left me and joined the sailors in their practiced drills.
“Away, aloft!” a tall, lean man yelled from the quarterdeck. The foreshrouds darkened with climbing sailors. The lines were loosened and then taut as the sails filled, pushing the ship in the direction of the cannon fire.
“Why are they going toward the sounds of war?” I said incredulously to Mr. Ashby and Patrice, who’d surrounded me. We exchanged worried glances.
The man who had given me water before approached us. He’d apparently heard my question. “We are in the habit of saving the innocent. Cannon fire means someone is in trouble.”
I had many questions, but he ushered us below deck and had us eat something.
He introduced himself as Nathaniel Ward, the ship’s surgeon.
“We’ve rescued you on our way to escort a ship coming from the United States.
The pirates who ravage these waters attack nearly every small ship coming to St. Kitts, so we were hoping to intercept it. ”
Patrice, Mr. Ashby, and I inhaled the porridge as we listened.
I was glad he answered some of my questions, although he probably could not answer the most important ones.
Mr. Ward sat with us while we finished our food and took out a can of salve from his satchel, then began applying it to our hands.
“This will help you heal. It may sting at first.”
He moved closer to us and began applying it to our faces. We all winced as he touched our sensitive skin.
When Mr. Ashby’s face was covered in the salve, he leaned back and began asking questions. “Who are you trying to escort?”
“We are expecting a Moravian bishop for the mission in Cayon. The leader of the estate who supports the mission, is also a patron of the Maelstrom.”
A mission in Cayon? Was that nearby?
“So you dock in St. Kitts?” Mr. Ashby prodded. Apparently he knew where Cayon was. I had no idea there was another town on St. Kitts other than Basseterre.
Mr. Ward raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that? It is a great secret where the Maelstrom makes harbor.” He chuckled. “There will be plenty of time for us to better understand each other. Right now, we need to batten down and prepare for battle.” He stood and told us to stay put for now.
Adjusting to all this new information made me feel as if I were floating above myself and none of it was real. My focus blurred for a second before Patrice’s voice called me back.
“Miss…are you all right?”
I blinked. “How could I be?” A single weak laugh escaped me. “After all this. He doesn’t even know who I am.” I met Mr. Ashby’s empathetic face. “How am I supposed to…move forward?”
He shook his head, sighing heavily. “We cannot do anything right now. Once things settle down, then we’ll get more answers.”
“Are we to sail into a battle after trying to escape one?” Patrice asked breathlessly.
It seemed we were in the same situation we had been when we abandoned the Katarina, facing the possibility of pirates once more. I didn’t see the humor in the irony.
Much sooner than expected, a loud bang shook everything around us and nearly threw us onto the deck.
Had we made it to the battle already? This ship must be extraordinarily fast. Then another blast hit on the same side, and another on the deck above us.
My breathing sped up and I stood without any idea what I would do next.
The hatch opened and three men fell down the ladder.
They didn’t even bother with the steps. They ran toward the gun deck, and after a moment, three more men followed suit.
Both times the hatch opened, I heard yelling and screaming along with gunshots and swords clashing.
I felt for my own pistol, grasping it inside my pocket. Mr. Ashby’s gift still had a job to do.
Were the enemies now on board? I looked up at the hatch with horror. “What should we do?” I asked Mr. Ashby.
His face had become taut with seriousness. “Go into the cabin beyond the scullery. I’ll go above and see what can be done.”
I gasped. “No! You mustn’t!” I held on to his arm. “If you go, I will, too.”
He must’ve recalled when I’d told him he needed protection on the Katarina, because he didn’t argue.
He nodded. “Very well. Let’s hide together.
” His hand warmed mine and he took it carefully.
Before he could pull me toward the cabins, however, the hatch opened once more and a large man dropped down onto the deck.
He held a curved sword in one hand, a pistol in the other, and a nasty expression I could only describe as…
delighted. But the kind of delight only someone with a cruel heart would feel.
“Well, isn’t this nice? Two wenches for the price of one man’s life.” He held the pistol up and pointed it directly at Mr. Ashby.