Beloved Castaway (27 page)

Viola stepped forward and offered a shy smile. “I’ve been caring for Isabelle myself,” she said. “The doctor has much need for assistance, and I find I’ve a talent for nursing.”

“I see.” Josiah tried in vain to tame his restlessness. “So this doctor, he’s a man of skill?”

“I’ll just leave you to him while I fetch his dinner, ladies, but do call if he becomes unruly.” Mrs. O’Mara winked as she stepped out and closed the door.
“The Lord has promised good to me. His word my hope secures,”
she sang as she walked away.

“Yes indeed,” Viola said. “He’s been quite busy, what with the number of injuries that came in with the sinking of our ship.” When Josiah winced, she quickly added, “The men are faring well.”

“She’s very good at tending the sick,” Emilie added. “In fact, she’s only just now left Isabelle.”

Josiah’s heart thudded against his aching ribs. “What is her condition?”
 

Viola shook her head. “The doctor cannot yet say. Not until she awakens.”
 

“So,” Josiah said with care, “she has not yet. . .”

“Awakened?” This from Emilie. “No, I don’t believe she has. Am I correct, Vi?”

“You are.” Viola knelt before Josiah and grasped his hands. “She’s young and strong, Captain, and the Lord is not done with her yet. I know this.”

“You know this.” He repeated the words, numb. “She had a wound here.” He pointed to his face. “Is it yet healed?”

“Yes,” Viola said. “Already the bruises are fading. Her beauty is intact.”

He rose and stepped past Viola. “Think you that beauty is what has bewitched me? Isabelle Gayarre is much more than a beautiful woman. She is. . .” By degrees he became aware that the women were staring. “Forgive me. I am unable to be anything but passionate when discussing this topic.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And what of my men? How fare they?”

“Some are quite well,” Viola said. “There’s a ship heading to Charleston on the morrow, and many have signed on as crew.”

“Excellent.” Josiah paused. “And the others? I wonder about Mr. Harrigan and Mr. Banks.”

The women exchanged glances. “Mr. Banks is still with us, but there is little hope of a complete recovery. He is, however, a strong man. The doctor has not given up on him.”

“I see.” Josiah studied her face. “And my friend, Mr. Harrigan. As I recall, he was injured about the head or face. He claimed it merely a scratch, but I doubted him.”

Neither woman spoke.

Josiah’s heart sank. “He did not survive.”

“No,” Viola said softly. “I’m afraid he succumbed to his injuries three days ago. A funeral and Christian burial were held for him.”

So his old friend was gone. The idea did not yet register.

Somehow, he found the bunk and sat on it. So many lives had depended on him; so many were lost. “Are there other casualties? I would know names.”

“Yes, Captain.” Emilie stated the names, and with each one, more guilt was heaped atop the pile. There were seven in all.

“And what of the others? Would that I could pay the salaries they were promised.”

Emilie offered a weak smile. “Actually, those who could work were quite fortunate in that a schooner bound for Baltimore had need of men. A few men sailed this morning, and others have pledged to sail on the morning tide”

“Including the lads?”

Viola nodded. “Despite the fact that Emilie offered to take them in and add them to her growing list of students.”

“So they elected to take their education at sea rather than in a class-room.” Josiah chuckled. “I’m afraid I understand that decision all too well.” He paused. “And what of those who are not sailing tomorrow?”

“Two found work as wreckers,” Viola supplied. “Cookie, however, decided to hire out on a mail packet headed for New Orleans. He says he’s done with life at sea.”

Emilie nodded. “He visited with us after Mr. Harrigan’s service and asked that we give you a message.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Emilie said. “He wanted us to be sure and tell you how very much he admired you, Captain.”

“His exact quote,” Viola interjected, “was ‘the Carter lad could find safe port for a bucket in a hurricane, but he’s harder on himself than anyone else would be. Tell him I’m going home to my grandchildren with great stories of sailing with him.’ ”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said when she finished. Odd as the sentiment sounded, being told the truth—the complete truth—was a refreshing change to Mrs. O’Mara’s hedging and avoidance.

Emilie ventured forward two steps. “Captain Carter?”

He turned to face her. “Aye?”
 

“I bring news of William.” She smiled. “He’s a wonderful boy. Very bright.”

Josiah’s emotions calmed at the mention of his brother. “I’ve always found him to be an apt pupil.” He paused. “Although I fear I might soon be surpassed by him should I attempt to continue giving him his lessons.”

Isabelle’s sister chuckled. “Indeed you describe him well. With your permission, I will continue instructing him until you’re able to take over.”

He nodded. “I am in your debt, Mademoiselle Gayarre.”

“No,” Emilie said, “it is I who am in your debt. It has not gone unnoticed that the presence of women on your vessel was not a comfortable state for you and your men. Had I the ability to do things differently, I might have chosen to remove Isabelle from her situation in another manner.” She paused. “Although I am convinced that the Lord put you and your vessel in our path because none but you could see to Isabelle’s escape.”

Josiah let the idea settle in his bones.
 

“Perhaps I could bring William to visit you,” Emilie suggested.

“No.” His response was quick, abrupt. “I’ll not have my brother seeing me in this place.”

Eyes downcast, Emilie nodded. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Forgive me,” he said, “for my rudeness. I’m in your debt for the care you’ve given my brother.” He turned his attention to Viola. “And also for your attention to Isabelle. I cannot repay you now, but I vow someday I shall.”

Emilie shook her head. “It is I who must protest now, Captain Carter. There is no balance sheet for things done among friends.”

Josiah thought for a moment, then nodded. “Aye, ’tis true. Ladies, I wonder if you might have news of my vessel and the status of the salvage operation.”

Viola nodded. “Just yesterday, I overheard the doctor speaking to someone about the
Jude
. He said there was nothing to salvage.”

Josiah pointed to the Bible. “Yet I have Isabelle’s Bible. How came my jailor to have it unless someone found something to salvage?”

Emilie reached for the book and, after reading the flyleaf, held it to her. “Indeed, this is Isabelle’s. I would ask the judge, Captain Carter.”

“If I ever see that man, I shall,” he said. “As yet, I have not had the pleasure of his company.” Josiah shook his head. “Forgive my interruption. What other news do you have, Miss Dumont?”

A strange look crossed the woman’s face. “I am reluctant to say, Captain. These things are unfounded and thus. . .”

“And thus?” He rose. “I cannot refute what I do not know.”

She nodded. “Yes, well, there is some question as to the provenance of the vessel.”

Josiah inclined his ear. “Go on.”

“The vessel was uninsured,” she said.

“I carried no cargo, thus no insurance was needed.” He shrugged. “I fail to see how this fact would be cause for conversation.”

“Yes, well,” Viola hedged, “there’s more.”

“What else?” When Viola seemed reluctant to continue, he looked to Emilie. “Do you know what she won’t say?”

“Yes,” Emilie said slowly. “A few of the wreckers are claiming that the
Jude
was, well, that the vessel was used to carry slaves.”

Josiah nodded. “Aye, ’tis possible it was. I would wager the man I purchased her from would have had no qualms about carrying human cargo. I, on the other hand, find the practice detestable.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Were I a slaver, how can you account for my feelings for your sister, Miss Gayarre?”

“So she’s told you of her background,” Emilie said. “I was unsure whether she’d mentioned it.”

“Aye.”

Both women looked relieved. Viola spoke first. “Then you only have to produce the receipt for the vessel’s purchase, and the issue will be solved.”
 

He sighed. “I cannot.”

“You must.” Viola touched his sleeve. “Until you prove the vessel is newly purchased. . .”

“I will be considered a slaver?” he supplied. “It is a conundrum, I’ll warrant, but there’s nothing to be done for it.”

A few hours later, Josiah had a similar conversation with three gentlemen from the town council, including the judge on whose decision his freedom rested.
 

Judge Benton Campbell, whose wife ran the only boardinghouse in Fairweather Key, took charge of the meeting the moment he entered Josiah’s cell. Flanked by two of the men who’d seen to the rescue of those aboard the
Jude
, the judge pushed his spectacles into place and began reading the charges against Josiah.

“Now that I’ve read all that, I’ve got one question.” Blue eyes peered at Josiah from the space between bushy gray brows and wire spectacles. “What say you to the charges of theft of a wrecking vessel and of importing slaves, young man?”
 

Josiah looked the judge in the eyes, his backbone straight. “I am not guilty, sir.”

The judge looked over his shoulder at the men who stood behind him. “You boys hear that?” When the pair nodded, he returned his attention to Josiah. “Your plea has been duly noted and witnessed. I’ll figure up your bail and set a trial date.”

Josiah did not move a muscle until the door clanged shut behind the men. Only then did he allow his shoulders to sink along his hopes of freedom. Raising bail of any amount would be impossible unless he wrote to his father for help.

“About as likely as snow falling on the wreckage of the
Jude
.”

Hezekiah would greet any request for help as confirmation of all the things he’d believed true about his son. He might even come down to Fairweather Key and tell Josiah this himself—right before he laughed all the way back to whatever ship brought him there without paying a cent of the bail.

Josiah looked out at the palms rustling, listened to the sound that had become the background music of his imprisonment, and wondered why God continued to allow him to live like a caged animal.

---

“It has been two weeks since I sent a letter to Father. I’m sure he’s received it by now,” Emilie said. “The captain of the
Redfoil
promised he would deliver it straightaway. A very nice man, he was, and I’m certain a man of his word.”

Isabelle heard Emilie’s words as if they were being spoken from somewhere far away. She spent the last of her energy trying to open her eyes, only to have the effort fail yet again.
 

“Honestly, Emilie.” This voice sounded very much like Mademoiselle Dumont’s. “I know your father loves you dearly, but even he might balk at being asked to convey a sum of money under these circumstances. Imagine if he knew the funds were to bail out the man who made it possible for us to escape New Orleans.”

Isabelle tried again to open her eyes. Had she misunderstood, or was Josiah in need?

“Vi, dear, be practical. My father loves me. He will help.”

“Well, mine loves me, too,” Viola said. “But if I dare write him, I have no doubt he would be on the first ship out of New Orleans to fetch me home.”

“Going back to New Orleans is not an option for me, Vi. Not after what I’ve done to free Isabelle.”

Much of what Isabelle heard soon disappeared into the white froth of her mind like so many clouds on a windy day. One moment, they were right in front of her; then the next, they’d drift to a point beyond the horizon, never to return.

She gave in to the blankness for a time. Then came the happy sound of laughter.

Viola’s giggle was unmistakable and a welcome change from the sullen and withdrawn woman who’d rarely left her bunk aboard the
Jude
. “So I told the doctor I would help him until he can find a proper nurse. It makes me feel useful, and truly, I am in no hurry to leave.”

“I understand,” Emilie said. “I am also reluctant to consider leaving the island once Isabelle’s health is restored. I find I am enjoying seeing to the lad’s schoolwork.”

The lad. Isabelle struggled to remember.

“I do find William a dear to teach,” Emilie said. “He is such a bright boy. Did you know he’s quite adept?”
 

Yes, William. The boy. Water. The
Jude
.

Isabelle lost interest in the conversation. Perhaps if she concentrated, she could turn the darkness to light.

Chapter 23

T
 
he stranger’s messenger reached Andre Gayarre at a most in-opportune time. Fresh from his disastrous voyage to nowhere, he was in no mood to suffer the company of fools. His regular table had been prepared at La Grison
,
and several ladies awaited his presence.
 

Yet here he stood in the shadow of the Dumont warehouses with nothing to show for his evening but an empty belly and a clear head. He checked his watch. Five more minutes, and he would give up the venture.

The offer he’d been sent was too profitable to ignore; the
details too personal to dismiss. Finally, though, it was the letters of recommendation for John Miller that had garnered the stranger an interview.

At either end of the narrow avenue, Andre’s men were stationed. Another had taken a position just inside the warehouse door. All had weapons that had been fully loaded and tested.

No chances were ever taken when it came to his safety, not after the rumblings that had come back to him through his men. It seemed his future father-in-law had grown weary of waiting for Andre to produce his runaway bride. Only last night, word had arrived that Monsieur Dumont was considering taking action against Andre for, among other things, the damages to the
Perroquin
.