“Please, Miss Coates. Do not be afraid. Allow me to help you.”
There was no other way. I nodded.
As he began to walk again, the strangeness of the moment dawned on me. Not since Papa had I been borne up this way, and I felt childish and small. And scared, but less of what lay ahead of me than what lay behind. So I allowed him to keep carrying me across the sand, toward a ship like ones I’d only ever swam through before.
* * *
Half an hour later, I was on the ship’s deck, where dozens of men surrounded me.
The sun’s first rays lit their stunned faces. Their awed murmurs came to me in pieces—survivor, girl, and impossible. I swayed in place and listened for impostor—fraud—deceiver!
“This way, Miss Emmeline.” Captain Jansen removed his hat and gestured toward a hatch. I followed him into a cramped darkness that smelled faintly of urine. “I am afraid it won’t approach what you must be used to,” he said as he ducked under beams—step and duck, step and duck—stopping before the door at the end. “But these are the finest quarters on the Ambrosia. I hope you will find them adequate.”
Inside, sunshine cut through a wide bank of stern windows, setting aglow a cabin filled with finery such as I’d only ever imagined. A desk sparkled with brass instruments. A table gleamed with silver and glass. Even the bed tucked into a little alcove glowed with a sheepskin covering.
“You shall have sole use of it as long as necessary,” the captain went on. “Izra has already moved my effects, and you shan’t be disturbed here, you may be sure. The berths for the crew are in an entirely separate area.”
Izra was the young black boy posted by the door, I guessed. He wore a red striped jacket missing some buttons and had clever eyes that held on me.
What did he see? A fine lady?
Or a common girl, pretending to be one?
“Ah, here we are.” The captain turned to the bald man who shuffled through the door, setting down a wood trunk. “This is Mr. Withers, the Ambrosia’s surgeon.”
“Your humble servant, Miss Coates,” Mr. Withers said with a small bow. “If you’ll allow me to—”
I shot back as he reached for me, knocking against the table. Something slid off and shattered on the floor with a sharp crunch. A silver pocket watch.
“Not to worry, not to worry,” the captain rushed to say. “That old watch was already broken. Izra will see to the mess.”
Izra was already seeing to it, kneeling to pick up shards of glass.
Mr. Withers’s hands were still hanging in the air where my forehead had been. He lowered them. “You’ve suffered a terrible shock, Miss Coates. And that’s a most severe cut on your brow. If you would allow me to—”
I rounded the table and shook my head. He wasn’t touching me. If I could help it, no man ever would again.
“Perhaps later,” Withers said with a thin smile. “In the meantime, I’ll prepare a draught of laudanum to help settle you.”
I shook my head again. I’d gotten myself off West End, but Sewel was still much too close. I had to stay alert.
“As you wish. I remain at your service.” Mr. Withers smiled, but his eyes stayed cold.
The captain reassured me that all was well now, that my only concern ought be resting; then he and Mr. Withers stepped into the passageway, pulling the door half shut behind them.
“She’s not said a word,” said the captain. “Not a single word since we found her.”
“So I gathered,” replied Mr. Withers. “I believe the shock’s addled her mind and stolen her power of speech.”
“ ’Tis as I feared, then. How long until she recovers?”
“With traumatic muteness, there’s no telling. Might be a day, might be never. Only God and time will tell.”
“Sweet heaven….Never?”
Izra glanced up from where he knelt like he wondered if I’d ever again utter a sound. As he left, I slid the bolt behind him. Checked it and checked it again. Then I stared at my new surroundings.
Along the far wall there was a small door about as high as I was tall, with an empty sea chest in front as if to hide it. I knew from wrecking that sometimes ship’s quarters had closets used to hide valuables from thieving crews. This looked like the door to such a cuddy. Pushing the sea chest aside, I checked that bolt, too, and that was as much as I’d trouble with it for now. The cold had settled so deep in me, I wasn’t even shaking anymore.
I managed to untie the gown and petticoats and let them drop in a soggy heap. The shift was damp, but I had no other garments to wear. On the desk I found a letter opener and slipped it into my sleeve. A knife would’ve been better, but wrecking had taught me that even blunt things could cut and I had to be ready for anything.
Pulling the sheepskin blanket off the bed, I climbed atop the long bench that ran beneath the stern windows and curled up close to the glass.
Warm sunlight poured over me, so bright it hid the world in white. Shading my eyes, I squinted at the beach and searched for Sewel’s telltale limp. For his new hat with the red feather.
Wherever he was, he would be after me.
I had no idea how long this ship would stay moored here—a day? A week?
Every second gave him more time to find me.
A sudden banging near tore my heart in half. I whirled, looking from the main door to the little cuddy door, but the banging was coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship. Singing drifted in through the window—first a shantyman’s lone voice, then dozens calling back. Hope swelled inside me as I finally understood what I heard. The crew was turning the capstan and weighing anchor, readying to set sail.
Saints…we were leaving.
Soon I felt the ship starting to glide across the sea.
As West End shrank in the distance, a figure appeared at the head of the beach trail. He stood with his thick shoulders curled, his weight born slightly to one side. A spot of red by his hat caught the sunlight.
My eyes blurred.
I’d done it. I’d gotten away from him.
I was safe. For now.
At sea
I woke up gasping at the weight on my chest, fighting desperately to push Sewel away—only to realize it was a nightmare. Shaken, I sat up on the bench and blinked at the fine captain’s cabin, telling myself again and again that I was safe. Alone.
Then it hit me…I truly was alone.
I’d lost Mama. I’d never feel her fingers comb through my hair again, nor hear her whisper Te quiero tanto, mi vida in my ear. And I’d lost my home and Mercy, too. I had only myself to count on now.