Love's Rescue (Keys of Promise #1)

On the other side of the door, several crew members shouted frantically.

Prickles danced up and down Elizabeth’s back. Ordinary seamen should not be outside her door. In addition to the mates’ cabin that she and Aunt Virginia now occupied, the great cabin contained the captain’s quarters and officers’ dining saloon. Those shouts had not come from any of the officers. The presence of crewmen meant that the structure was badly compromised.

Her throat tightened. For the first time in six hundred miles of catastrophic predictions, Aunt Virginia might be right.

She ran her hand down the varnished mahogany door to the brass latch. If she could look out that door for just a moment, she could tell what was going on.

Anabelle slipped close enough to whisper, “Don’t let Miss Virginia see what you’re doing.”

That only made Elizabeth’s pulse pound faster. Anabelle had heard the shouts too. She also suspected disaster. If Aunt knew, she would go into hysterics. But Elizabeth had to risk it. She needed to know what they faced. She took a deep breath and drew the latch.

Anabelle put her hand on the door as Aunt Virginia bent over the bucket again. “Send me to fetch the first mate.”

“Mr. Buetsch would be busy.” Elizabeth pushed aside Anabelle’s hand. She would never again risk anyone’s life but her own.

Before Anabelle could react, she flung open the door. Water sprayed through the opening, beading onto her crape gown and dampening the curls Anabelle had so carefully pressed this morning. The cook had protested that the galley stove was not to be used for hair tongs, but Anabelle had insisted until the cook gave in. No one would scold them now, for at the end of the passageway the outer door was ripped off its hinges. Water rushed over the deck. Sailors lugged a canvas knotted with cord to starboard. It could have only one use: to plug a breach in the hull that could not be reached from inside the ship.

“Where are you going?” Aunt Virginia cried from behind. “Don’t leave me.”

Elizabeth closed the door and pressed her forehead to the smooth wood. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Though Anabelle ran a comforting hand down her back, Elizabeth could not forget what she’d seen. Barring a miracle, the ship would not last the night. The crew was too busy to consider the plight of three women. Their lives depended on her.

What could she do? Until the captain gave orders to abandon ship, they were expected to stay in the cabin, but Elizabeth could not sit and wait. She knew how to sail and swim. She understood the workings of a vessel and what happened when a ship sank. She must act, but how?

She paced the length of the narrow room, pausing only to glance out the darkened window, through which the lamplight illuminated the spray of the waves.

Anabelle moved to close the shutters.

Elizabeth waved her off. “The air is too thick to close them.”

“Why don’t we play whist?” her great-aunt suggested. “It will take our minds off this dreadful tossing, and we can take turns playing the extra hand.”

Games at such a time? If the worst happened, they needed to be ready. There would be no time then to gather their belongings.

She faced her aunt. “We must prepare ourselves.”

“I’ve already gotten out the cards.” Aunt held up a deck. “Your trunk can serve as a table. Have your girl move it closer.”

“I wasn’t speaking of cards.” Elizabeth didn’t want to terrify her aunt, but ignorance could prove deadly. She could not lose one of the last female blood relations in her family. “We need to prepare in the event the ship founders.”

“Founders?” Aunt Virginia paled, but no hysterics yet.

Elizabeth didn’t give her time to gather steam. “We need to put our valuables into something small enough to carry.”

“What are you talking about, dear? The stevedores will take care of our trunks.”

Elizabeth choked back frustration. Her great-aunt thought she was talking about their arrival in Key West. She looked around for something small and light that would hold their most important possessions. “There are no stevedores aboard ship.”

“Of course not. The crew will bring our trunks onto deck.” Aunt Virginia rearranged the pillows behind her back.

Pillows. Of course. “A pillowcase would work beautifully. Hand me one of your pillows.”

Aunt eyed her suspiciously. “What did you see out there?”

“I’m simply saying that we should prepare ourselves to walk calmly to the ship’s boat if we are instructed to do so.”

Aunt Virginia sucked in her breath. “The ship’s going down?”

“Hopefully not, but in the event of trouble, we should be ready.” She threw out the one reason her aunt would accept. “You would not want to lose your pearls.”

Aunt’s eyes rounded, and her jowls shook. “Call for Captain Cross.”

“We can’t call for the captain. He is busy with . . . more pressing matters.”

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