Crack!
The sharp report jolted Elizabeth from the muddle of dream and memory.
A quick survey of her surroundings confirmed she was indeed aboard the schooner Victory, not battling the hurricane that had devastated Key West. The dull light from the gimbaled oil lamp revealed little of the cabin’s mahogany paneling, but it illuminated the worried faces of her maid and great-aunt. The lamp squeaked and tilted with each pitch and roll of the vessel. Aunt Virginia eyed it with the same suspicion she’d harbored since Charleston.
“This voyage will be my death.” Aunt fluttered a plump hand before her pallid face.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth rather than point out that her great-aunt was the one who had insisted on joining them. Instead she forced a smile. “Soon we will reach home.”
Home. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what awaited her there. Charlie. The terrible void that Mother’s death had left. She took as deep a breath as her stays would allow, but neither the pain nor the stale cabin air could remove the crushing numbness that had gripped her since they’d received the news.
She brushed at the wrinkles in the black crape skirt and then grabbed the bunk’s frame when the ship pitched sharply forward. Her chair scraped an inch or two across the plank floor before the vessel righted.
“We’re going to drown,” wailed her great-aunt, who occupied the lower bunk. The sixty-five-year-old woman had kept company with a bucket from the moment they’d left Charleston harbor. Other than the stop in Saint Augustine and the brief pause at Fort Dallas to take on a pilot, she either moaned or complained for every one of the six hundred miles.
Elizabeth had lost patience five hundred and fifty miles ago.
“We’re perfectly safe.” She said the words automatically now. Her mother—Aunt Virginia’s niece—had suffered the agonies of yellow fever. What was a little tossing about on rough seas?
“But those terrible noises. It sounds like the ship is going to break to bits.”
Though the noise that had jolted Elizabeth out of troubled slumber had sounded unusual, admitting it would send Aunt Virginia into hysterics. So again, she consoled. “Those noises are normal aboard ship.” Two sea voyages might not have made her an expert, but she had heard the creaks and groans of many a moored vessel when she was a girl. “A seafarer grows accustomed to such things.”
“Perhaps sailors do, but not us poor women.” Aunt launched into the next part of her endlessly repetitive argument. “I don’t understand why the captain didn’t offer us his quarters. We would have been much more comfortable there. If Jonathan knew, he would dispense with the man at once.”
Elizabeth tried again to emulate her mother’s patience. After all, that was the entire purpose of the voyage, to prove to Father that she had matured into a proper young woman. “We are fortunate the mates offered us their room.”
“You make it sound as if they gave up fine accommodations.” Aunt Virginia swept a plump arm to encompass every corner of the cabin. “Two bunks!” She sniffed. “Straw mattresses full of fleas.”
“It’s better than sleeping in hammocks with the crew.”
“They wouldn’t dare. My nephew owns this ship.”
“I understand he owns a share of it,” Elizabeth corrected, “along with other investors.”
“Well, that’s neither here nor there.” Aunt Virginia heaved a petulant sigh and dabbed at her mouth with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I simply hope we arrive before I perish.”
Elizabeth’s maid, Anabelle, rolled her eyes, the whites stark against her caramel complexion. “Ain’t no one be doin’ no dyin’.”
Anabelle spoke flawless English and could read and write, but Aunt Virginia looked suspiciously on any Negro who had learning. After the first whipping, Anabelle had chosen to play the role of a simpleton in front of Aunt Virginia. Elizabeth had been indignant at the rough treatment, but Anabelle begged her to let the matter rest. Raising a fuss would only make her life more difficult.
“When will this end?” Aunt moaned.
“It won’t be much longer.” Elizabeth offered her a sip of lukewarm tea.
“I don’t want any of your tea. It’s dreadful, probably moldy. Heaven knows how they keep anything dry on this ship. Why, water is running down the wall.”
Elizabeth’s gaze shot to the wall behind the bunk. “Impossible.”
“Don’t you believe me?” Aunt harrumphed. “The bedding is positively damp.”
“But that’s an interior wall.” She reached across her aunt and did indeed feel dampness. That wasn’t good. She needed something to distract everyone from this disturbing discovery. “Let’s read from the Bible. I’ll fetch a lamp.”
Aunt waved a hand. “Have your girl bring it.”
While Elizabeth pulled her aunt’s Bible from her trunk, Anabelle unfastened the lamp from its holder. With sure steps, she carried it to Elizabeth.