Chapter Two
Gabriel Thorne stood at the bow of the ship, his hand wrapped around a thick rope, as he looked toward shore. Already people gathered to greet his men, most of them eager to return to their families after two months’ absence.
No one waited for him; other than a strong desire for steady ground under his feet, clean clothes, and a hot meat pie at the local pub, he had no real need to leave his ship.
He would, of course, there was business to conduct with impatient merchants who’d invested heavily in the precious cargo that was stowed aboard.
“Captain, the last of those going ashore have left,” his first mate, Jameson reported.
He and Jameson were childhood friends, more like brothers, both having grown up on the shores of Whitby and orphaned as boys.
Once it was discovered that they’d been fending for themselves, at about ten, Gabriel’s aunt and uncle had taken them in.
It was his uncle Rafe who’d taught Gabriel about the sea.
His uncle was an avid sailor who’d worked with the last captain of the Wind Dancer.
Gabriel and Jameson had shown interest and joined the crew.
They’d shown their potential thanks to his uncle’s guidance and quickly moved up the ranks until only a few years later, Gabriel became the late captain’s second-in-command.
“I will remain aboard until the cargo is unloaded in the morning,” Gabriel replied. “Go. I know ye are eager to see Cate,” he added referring to Jameson’s wife of only six months.
Jameson’s face lit up. “Aye, I am. I think I see her.” His friend’s gaze scanned the shoreline. “There in the green dress.”
Following his friend’s line of sight, Gabriel saw the woman. She was waving a scarf in the air. Instinctively, he scanned the crowd for another woman, one he was sure would not be there.
Then he saw her. She was with a large man, and both spoke to one of his men who’d just rowed ashore. Her dark hair blew in the wind, the long waves whipping around her face as she gestured toward the water.
The conversation seemed intense; at one point, she covered her face with both hands, seeming to wipe away tears.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Gabriel’s chest tightened, and he considered what to do. If Cecily was talking to one of his men, it could mean whatever happened had to do with him, or his ship.
Suddenly the blood in his veins turned to ice. His aunt and uncle. Had something happened to them? In the next instant he was racing to catch up with Jameson, clambering down the rope ladder on the side of the ship and then then jumping onto the small rowboat.
“What’s wrong?” Jameson asked, an expression of surprise.
“I am not sure. Just saw Cecily and a man who looks like Thom talking to Will. From what I can tell, they seem to be alarmed.”
Jameson turned and studied the now-nearing shoreline. “I do nae expect Aunt and Unk would know to come…” He left the rest unsaid.
The couple who’d raised them had moved farther inland once Jameson married, leaving him the cottage closer to the shore. There he and Cate, along with Gabriel, lived when they returned from voyages.
The short journey seemed to take forever, but soon they leaped into the shallow water and helped to pull the rowboat onto the rocky shore.
Immediately, Cecily rushed to him, her face blotchy from crying. Even then, he couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was. He’d yet to ever see a woman who matched her beauty.
“What happened?” he asked, his throat dry as he did his best to calm his rapidly beating heart.
“F-Father…my f-father. He has nae returned.” Cecily seemed on the brink of collapsing, so he took her by the shoulders, holding her up. Her eyes dug into his. “I was h-hoping ye would have found him adrift…or…”
There was a strange tug of war in him, one of relief that his family was not harmed, the other side aching for Cecily.
Her father, Samuel Beckett, was a kind and fair man.
A man he’d grown to admire for his work ethic and strong dedication to raising his daughter.
The man was well liked and, by the group of fishermen coming to stand by, respected as well.
As if expecting to see Samuel’s boat bobbing in the distance, Gabriel scoured the open sea.
Of its own accord, his gaze instinctively moved toward the nearby cliffs and the dangerous shore of jagged boulders.
Local seamen knew to avoid that area regardless of the fact it protected huge schools of fish.
It was much too treacherous as it was hard to see where the rocks began or ended.
It was a beautiful, alluring place, a siren with the crashing of waves spraying high and the whistle of the sea water pushing through the cracks and crevices. A stunning and perilous place.
“Please Gabriel, can we go and search for him? What if he’s barely hanging on?
He must be desperate for help.” Cecily dissolved into sobs, and he pulled her into an embrace, wrapping protective arms around the beauty.
Immediately, every part of him responded, the deep feelings for her, the need to be around her, the wishes for a closer relationship.
Mine.
The wind had sharpened with the coming of dusk, carrying the cold scent of salt and deep water. Gabriel forced himself to push aside the possessive instinct that always arose whenever Cecily was near. It was a dangerous weakness. Cecily was not, nor would she ever be, his.
Before setting foot ashore, he had sworn to himself he would avoid her at all costs. Yet cruel fate seemed to have other plans.
“Get the longboat ready!” he shouted to the men waiting in the rowboats beyond the surf.
At once, three boats pushed away from the shoreline, their oars dipping into the restless gray water. Gabriel guided Cecily and Thom toward the boat he’d arrived in, steadying them as the wind tugged at cloaks and skirts.
“Go home,” he told Jameson, who stood with his arms tight around his wife.
Cate immediately shook her head, dark hair whipping across her cheek. “No. He will go with ye to help. I can wait.”
She rose onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to Jameson’s cheek. “Go with them, love.”
Jameson looked as though someone had asked him to abandon ship. His arms tightened around her. “Come with us. Ye can keep Cecily company.”
Within moments the five of them climbed into the rocking boat. Thom and Jameson took the oars, pulling hard against the wind while the tide slapped sharply against the hull.
Cecily clung to Gabriel as though he were the only solid thing in the world.
“Thank ye… thank ye…” she whispered again and again.
Her tear-streaked face lifted toward him before she pressed her forehead to his shoulder, soaking the already damp fabric of his tunic with her tears.
Gabriel kept his gaze fixed on the darkening sea ahead.
When they reached the ship, lines were thrown and the women were quickly helped aboard, drawing uneasy glances from a few of the more superstitious sailors. Women aboard a vessel were never welcomed by such men, especially when night and rough water threatened.
They were ushered to the afterdeck where a small roof offered shelter from the wind. From there, they could watch the deck below and the activity unfolding. Gabriel doubted Cecily would stay there long.
Still, with Thom nearby, she would be safe enough.
Though he trusted most of his crew, sailors were not known for saintly restraint, particularly after months at sea.
Above them, the sky deepened to indigo as the last smear of sunset bled across the horizon. The ship rocked gently against the growing chop while the longboat was lowered once more into the restless water.
Gabriel oversaw every movement, barking orders while the men guided the ropes.
“Steady there! Ease her down!”
The boat swung, creaked, then settled onto the waves below.
“Ready, Captain!” he called up to the deck.
Without sparing so much as a glance toward where Cate stood, he swung over the rail and began descending the rope ladder. Sailors might ignore many dangers, but superstition was not one of them. No man willingly met the gaze of a woman before setting out upon uncertain waters.
Gabriel paused only long enough to catch Cecily’s arm as she hurried closer. Holding her gently but firmly at arm’s length, he met her gaze.
Her eyes were wide and shining in the fading light.
“Stay near Thom,” he said quietly. “We will search for yer father. It is near dark, and the sea grows rough. Ye must be patient.”
Her lips trembled as if she might speak.
Gabriel did not give her the chance. He released her and turned away at once, dropping into the waiting boat without looking back at the woman who, against all reason, held his heart.
*
High above, the full moon climbed into the now-dark sky, its pale light spilling across the restless waters and guiding the longboat as it traced slow circles along the coast of Whitby.
The waters were familiar to the men aboard.
Most had been born within sight of these cliffs and had spent their lives sailing the narrow inlets and rocky coves.
Navigating here required little thought.
Each jagged outcrop, hidden reef, and stretch of uneven shoreline had long ago been committed to memory, as well known to them as the paths through nearby fields and hills.
Still, the sea was never entirely tame.
The longboat rocked from side to side as it pushed through the choppy swells, the cold wind whipping across the open water. Spray burst over the bow and soaked their cloaks while lanterns were raised high, their wavering flames casting unsteady circles of light across the dark water.
Every man scanned the shifting shadows, searching the heaving surface for any sign of the missing fishing vessel.
There was no use calling the man’s name. Even if he were near enough to hear, the sharp wind and crashing waves would swallow the sound long before it reached them.
So they searched in silence, eyes fixed on the dark sea, hoping the moonlight might reveal what the storm had hidden.