Chapter 19
We didn’t learn anything more about Mary Bowers for the remainder of the journey.
Whisper returned to the upper deck to find the surgeon.
The bishop and his wife were taken to a cabin for rest by the beautiful, daring, umber-skinned woman, whose name I had yet to learn.
The confident and powerful way she moved intrigued me more than I could say, but I waited for my chance to speak with her.
She seemed busy each time I saw her. I assumed she was one of the mates on the ship, judging by the way others seemed to respect her.
Mr. Ashby, Patrice, and I watched the crew come and go.
It was dark now, the porthole nearest us showing a smattering of stars in the sky.
We didn’t speak, partly from exhaustion, and partly from…
I wasn’t sure what. All I knew was that too many thoughts and emotions were swirling around in my head, and I didn’t think I could form a coherent sentence if I tried.
At length, the elderly and regal man I’d seen fighting the pirate captain came down the hatch and walked over to us. “You must be Miss Findlay,” he said to me.
“I am,” I responded. My voice sounded distant and strange to me.
“I’m Captain Whitmore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you for allowing us on your ship, Captain,” I said.
“I heard you were a hero today,” he said with a smile. It was then I noticed blood on his shoulder, soaked through the linen. Had anyone on board been unharmed?
“Who told you such a falsehood?” I said with a weak laugh.
“Slate. Or Graham, I suppose you’d prefer to call him,” he reported, still smiling.
“Why does everyone call him Slate?” I finally asked. It was an answer I had been dying to know.
“Because he came to us with a blank slate.” Captain Whitmore’s smile was rueful. I stared at him, wishing to see the humor. Then his expression changed too quickly to that of seriousness. “You might want to check on him. He was wounded badly.”
I leapt to my feet with alarm, everything else unimportant. “How badly?”
He held up his hands to calm me. “Not to worry. It isn’t fatal.
The surgeon just left him in the first mate’s cabin and he’s all patched up like an old pair of trousers.
” He smiled queerly at me. “I wanted to thank you personally for saving Mr. Weiss’s wife.
It is a great day when we can rescue innocent lives.
We’re glad to have you aboard, Miss Findlay.
” Captain Whitmore bowed and went back up.
What a strange man. One minute he was jesting, the next he was resolute and serious.
He seemed to flip from one emotion to another in a single blink.
“Go,” Patrice said. “Go see Graham.”
“Are you sure? You were injured as well.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just a little bruised.” She wiggled a little to show me that she was hurt, but it wasn’t serious.
I nodded, then looked at Mr. Ashby. “Do you want to come with me? I’m sure you’re worried about him, too.”
We went together to where the Captain told us Graham had been treated.
When we entered, I saw the immense amount of blood on Graham’s shirt and gasped, running toward him. I knelt by his bed and pressed a hand over his. “Are you badly injured?” I asked him with obvious worry. Mr. Ashby held back and allowed us time to ourselves.
“Aye, but it willnae kill me. Dinnae fret, lass. Ye’ll have time to be disappointed in me tomorrow.” He began to laugh but ended up coughing instead. I retrieved some water and helped him drink before kneeling down next to him again.
I hadn’t strength for anything but honesty.
“You have disappointed me greatly, many times. But I shall let all of those things stay in the past. Now, more than ever, I’m realizing the importance of the present.
” I turned fully toward him, meeting his tired eyes with my own.
“I propose we start over. I’d like to try and jog your memory with stories from our childhood, but I’m unsure if you would like that.
So, if you wish, we can simply get to know each other from here.
” I offered him a small smile. “Perhaps you will find yourself falling for me again.”
“Perhaps ye will find yourself falling for me again as well,” he replied. A twinkle of humor in his eye made me laugh. It was a pathetic excuse for a laugh, but it went through me all the same.
“I don’t need to fall for you again. I never stopped loving you, Graham Anderson.” My smile was weak, just like my laugh.
He searched my face for a moment, and I couldn’t be sure what he saw there. “I suppose we’ll just have to see.” He looked past me toward Mr. Ashby. “You seem to know me as well. What was your name again?”
“Arthur Ashby. We were business partners. You sent me to Scotland to deliver a letter to Miss Findlay here.”
Graham sighed and his speech became more lazy. “That sounds like a verra lang story. Might we blether later? I am…a wee puggled.” It pleased me to hear him speak in Scots, for that meant he hadn’t forgotten his roots, at least not in the deepest part of his mind.
“Sure thing, my friend. You should get some rest,” Mr. Ashby said softly.
His eyes fluttered and then closed altogether.
I would have thought he’d died had his chest not been rising and falling.
It seemed to be the end of our conversation, though, so I sat there watching my Graham sleep.
His face was peaceful in slumber, despite the pain he must have been feeling from his injuries.
“I don’t want to leave him,” I told Mr. Ashby. “I’ll sit with him for a while longer. You can go tell Patrice that I’ll be here.”
“I’ll tell her. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I nodded, not looking away from Graham. I took his hand, not caring whether it would startle him when he awoke.
I had been through too much at this point to worry about such a thing.
Touching Graham would keep me grounded while my mind raced with too many questions.
Without even realizing it, I fell asleep, too.
I awoke to the sound of working men above me. Sunshine streaming through the porthole nearly blinded me when I opened my eyes. I looked at my shoulder to see a blanket covering me. I wondered who had put it there. Graham was no longer there. Perhaps he had done it?
My legs ached when I stood. Sleeping on the floor so long hadn’t been the best idea. If only Graham had lifted me to the bed when he got up. Although, with his injuries that may not have been possible.
After climbing to the top deck, I noticed the sails were secured and the ship was unmoving, save the usual rocking in the waves. We must have been at anchor.
Mr. Ashby found me standing in the middle of the deck. “Did you sleep well?”
I arched my back and stretched. “In a way,” I responded.
I saw we were in a blue and green bay. I walked to the railing and looked over the beauty of the water and the land beyond.
It was extraordinary. Plants I’d never seen before graced the landscape, palm trees and flowering plants I’d only heard of.
Even though it was some distance away, I could see vividly red flowers blooming on a tree.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mr. Ashby said from beside me.
“Yes.” My voice sounded breathless.
“Shall we go ashore?”
He was watching me, waiting for my response. I tilted my head at him. “Do you honestly not know the answer to that?”
He pulled up a corner of his mouth. “I’ll go get Miss Patrice.”
When she joined us, we went to one of the boats waiting to take us to shore. Butterflies filled my stomach. Not from nerves, but from barely suppressed excitement. I practically bounced in my seat. I hadn’t touched land in over two months. Patrice, too, seemed thrilled to see land once again.
The boat docked and we scrambled out of it without pause.
My knees were wobbly when I stood straight.
The ground felt strange, yet glorious. Solid earth beneath my feet once more had me laughing—nay, crying—with joy.
I took Patrice’s hands and we twirled around together, enjoying the feel of sturdiness beneath us.
After getting quite dizzy, we collapsed onto the white sand.
“Are you that happy to be on land again?” Mr. Ashby commented, standing above us. He was thoroughly amused, judging from the tone of his voice. His head was haloed with the sun, though, and I couldn’t make out his expression.
I shaded my eyes with one hand. “Have we made it too obvious?”
“Nay, I should say we haven’t given enough hints,” Patrice offered. She sat up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Thank the Lord for solid ground!”
There was nothing to do but join her. “Bless this land and let us never step foot on a ship again!” It was a silly thing to say, considering I would have to return to Scotland at some point. But presently, I could not fathom wanting to leave.
Patrice lowered her hands and lay down in the sand again. “I believe I will stay here forever,” Patrice declared to me.
“Let’s not talk about the future.” I sighed and closed my eyes, lifting my face to the sun. “Let us be content in this moment.”
We stayed there for some time, celebrating being off the water.
It had been a perilous journey, one I was loath to repeat.
And yet, after so many near-death experiences, one did tend to appreciate life a great deal more.
Mr. Ashby sat with us, letting sand flow through his fingertips.
He seemed completely mesmerized by it. I watched his face, seeing a peace there I hadn’t witnessed since he worked as a purser those first few days on the Katarina.
I couldn’t help but wonder where he would go after this.
I’d grown accustomed to his presence, to the way he spoke, the way he laughed, even the way he looked at me.
It would be a shame if we never saw each other again.