“I won’t hear of anyone thieving about Jonathan’s ship.”
“I didn’t say there were thieves aboard. I simply want us to prepare in case we must abandon ship.” There, she’d said it.
Her aunt leaned back in disbelief. “You’re exaggerating. Jonathan would never send us on any ship but the best.”
Elizabeth growled with frustration. “All I want is a pillowcase.” If only Aunt hadn’t taken every pillow in the room to prop herself up on the bunk, Elizabeth could have gotten one herself.
At that moment the oil lamp sputtered and died, plunging them into darkness.
All three women gasped.
“Don’t move.” It took a moment for Elizabeth’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. Nothing had changed. The sea still crashed against the hull, and the ship still plowed forward. Perhaps the crew had managed to plug the hole in the hull. Perhaps they would reach Key West as planned.
“What do we do now?” Aunt Virginia whispered.
“We wait.”
Aunt apparently thought she meant wait for death, for her whimper was followed by a series of poorly suppressed sobs. “I don’t want to die here, away from family. At least poor Helen had her husband and son at her side.”
Her words tugged at Elizabeth. Aunt Virginia was terrified—not of what might happen to them but of being alone. That was how Elizabeth had felt from the moment she learned of her mother’s death. Never again could she ask her dear mama for advice. Never again would her mama comfort her past a nightmare or disappointment.
“It’s all right.” Elizabeth navigated to her aunt’s side. Sitting on the bunk, she embraced the elderly woman. “I won’t leave you.” She choked back a strangled sob of her own.
“Poor dear, I wasn’t thinking. I should never have mentioned your mother’s passing. Try to remember her beauty and grace.”
Tears stung Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’ve nearly forgotten her appearance.” She fingered the tiny miniature she kept in her watch pocket. That image had been painted when the bloom of youth colored Mother’s cheeks. She had aged over the years, losing that bright flush and adding lines of care around her eyes and mouth until she bore little resemblance to the girl on the miniature. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
“As pretty as they come.” Aunt Virginia patted her back. “You remind me of her. I seem to recall that she had a handsome portrait painted upon her wedding day. Surely that still hangs in your father’s house.”
Elizabeth wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “It suffered damage in the storm, but I believe Father sent it for repair.” Her attention was drawn to a light blinking outside the open window. Not only blinking, but in a very specific pattern, like a lighthouse. Had they reached the Key West light? Caroline had written that it was the only light that had been rebuilt thus far.
She rushed to the window. “Look! Lights. We’re safe!”
At that moment the ship shuddered, pitched, and shuddered again before rolling severely to starboard. Aunt Virginia screamed. Wood splintered. Elizabeth went flying. Her hands smacked against solid wood, and the impact shivered all the way to her shoulders. Everything, including Elizabeth, slid toward the interior bulkhead. The teapot rolled over her hand and crashed against the wall. Something large scraped past her leg, landing with a thud.
Then all movement stopped.
The wind still howled. Rain and sea spray pelted the ship, but the creaking and scraping of the vessel took on an ominous tone.
“What happened?” Aunt cried.
Even as Elizabeth struggled to right herself, she had no doubt.
They’d struck the reef.
2
How many times did you signal?” Rourke yelled at the new deckhand.
Tom stiffened. “At least ten times, Captain.”
“Well, keep at it,” Rourke growled, pacing the deck.
What was wrong with that master? Even an incompetent pilot or master should recognize trouble at first impact, yet the ship maintained the same course. His gut clenched. Most pilots were wreckers or former wreckers and wouldn’t risk losing their license, but a few didn’t know the waters on a sunny day, least of all in a storm.
If Rourke knew the pilot—and odds were he did—he’d flay him in court. A man who claimed knowledge he didn’t possess was a liar and a cheat. One day such a man would cost someone his life, but not today—not if Rourke O’Malley had anything to do with it.
“Set the mainsail,” he shouted. No jib in this wind. Too much sail and the northeast gale would drive his sloop into the shallows before he reached Hawk Channel.