The Immortelles (7 page)

“Maybe it will clear off,” he said lightly. “I hope so.”

Damita rose, and he stood with her. “We Americans sometimes have fallings-out, and when we make it up, we shake hands. Is that impolite?”

“Why, no, I think not.” Damita put out her hand, and his large one swallowed it.

“All is forgiven, then?” he asked.

“Yes. Now, I must go to my aunt. Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you, Miss Madariaga.”

On the third day of sailing, a calm came over the sea. The wind died down, and the
Orestes
, although its every sail was unfurled, barely moved through the water. The captain was anxious, and the sudden weather change bewildered Damita and Juanita. Damita asked one of the sailors if such things happened often, and he replied, “Pretty often, ma'am. Don't worry. The wind will pick up soon.”

Juanita felt increasingly better, and that same evening, she went to the dining room. Robert McCain spotted them and strode to their table. “Please, Miss Madariaga, would you and your companion join my wife and myself?”

“That would be fine! This is my aunt, Juanita Mendez.”

“Señora Mendez, I'm so happy to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, sir.”

Somehow Damita was not too surprised to see Devereaux seated with the McCains. She watched as Robert introduced Juanita to Yancy and to Esther. When they were all seated, she turned to her aunt and said, “Mr. and Mrs. McCain are newlyweds.”

Juanita smiled broader. “Is that so? My congratulations to you. May you have a long and happy married life.” She looked at Yancy and asked, “Are you married, sir?”

“No, ma'am, I'm not,” he replied. “I haven't had that good fortune yet.”

“Mr. Devereaux was a planter,
ma tante,
but he's going to buy part-ownership in a schooner.”

Devereaux nodded, then turned to Robert. “What do you do? You never said.”

“I'm a lawyer.”

“Yes, and a good one, too,” Esther said, smiling. She squeezed his hand. “The best lawyer in Alabama.”

“You'll have to forgive my wife. She overestimates my talent.”

After the meal, Juanita and Damita strolled back to their cabin. Juanita sat down on the lower bunk. “That man, Devereaux—he's quite attractive. You met him at the ball, I understand?”

“Oh, just briefly.”

“I don't want to preach, but that's exactly the sort of man you don't need to be connected with, Damita.”

Damita laughed and sat down beside her aunt. She put her arm around her and said, “Connected with him? Don't be foolish. He's simply a passenger.”

“He's handsome, though, don't you think?”

“Oh, I suppose he's good-looking enough, but he's a Kaintock. I'd never marry an American. You know that.”

Her assurances seemed to make Juanita feel better. “That's good to hear. He's not our kind. But young girls are impressionable. You be careful.”

“Oh, I will,
ma tante
. Don't worry.”

The
Orestes
traveled few sea miles for the next two days, but on Thursday, when Damita woke, she felt the ship moving and exclaimed, “I think the winds have come!”

“I know they have,” Juanita said with a moan. “I grew sick as soon as the ship started rocking. I'm not going to breakfast this morning.”

“I'll bring you some hot tea, and perhaps a soft-boiled egg.”

“I don't think I could keep it down.”

“You must try,
ma tante
.”

Damita walked alone to the dining room. She noticed Esther McCain by herself at a table, and the young wife waved her over. Esther said, “The men are meeting with the captain in the front of the ship. I think they're worried about the weather. Will you join me?”

“Yes. Afterward, I'll have to take my aunt something. She's not a good sailor, I'm afraid.”

In their lively conversation, Damita learned a great deal about Esther McCain—mainly that she was completely in love with her husband.

Esther admitted as much when she said, “I feel sinful, loving Robert as much as I do.”

“Sinful! There's nothing sinful about loving your husband.”

Esther smiled and shook her head. “I'm ashamed to tell you this, Damita, but I almost worship him.”

Her words amused Damita. “Well, you
have
become an idolater, then.”

“I almost have, but I know that I must love God first and Robert second. But I do love him as much as a woman ever loved a man.”

Damita had never talked with a young bride like Esther, and she was interested. She inquired, “Do you mind if I ask you a very personal question?”

“Why, of course not. Anything.”

Damita colored slightly. “I don't know anything at all about being a wife, I
mean about—” She broke off and sought the proper words. “I mean, about, well, the intimacies of married life.”

Esther McCain put her hand over Damita's. “I didn't know a thing about it, either,” she admitted. “I was scared to death on our wedding night, but it was all right. It will be all right for you, too, if you marry a good man. Robert was so gentle. He knew I was afraid, and he spent, I think, more time talking to me and telling me he loved me than any man ever did.”

Damita felt the young bride's contentment. She sighed and said, “I'm so glad you're happy, Esther.”

“We're going to have a wonderful life, Damita. We're not going to get old the way other people do. We're going to stay fresh and young. Robert has promised me that. Even when we're gray-haired, he's going to write me love letters, and I'm going to write them to him, too. We're going to have children, and I'm so excited about the days and years to come.” She asked Damita, “Have you ever been in love?”

“No, I never have.”

“Then you must pray that God will give you a man as good as Robert.”

Damita felt a warm glow in her face. “I never met a woman who loved her husband the way you love yours. I hope the same thing happens to me.”

The sea grew rougher all day, and word came that the ship's staff would serve no evening meal in the dining room because of the vessel's pitching. Instead, stewards would bring sandwiches to the passengers' cabins.

Juanita could only cling to the bunk silently; she could not eat at all. Damita ate just half a sandwich. She was frightened. The ship not only nose-dived and then rose up slowly, it also wallowed from side to side. She had no more appetite than her aunt did. She finally jumped down from the top bunk and told Juanita, “I'm going to see what it's like up on deck.”

“Be careful, Damita. Don't get near the rail.”

“I'll be all right. You lie still,
ma tante
.”

As she climbed the stairs to the deck, Damita felt as if a hand were closing around her heart. The sky was black, and although most of the sails had been furled, the wind was whipping through those that still gave the ship forward motion. The sailors had rigged ropes to hold on to while moving from place to place, and Damita clung to one just a few feet from the staircase. She stood watching as the prow went down and slowly rose again.

“Pretty rough weather, Miss Damita.”

Startled, Damita turned to see Yancy Devereaux, who had come up from another set of stairs. She nodded and said, “This is terrible.”

“I'm hoping it'll get better.”

“Have you talked to the captain?”

“Yes, but he says the glass is still falling.”

“The glass? What does that mean?”

“It's an instrument that tells what the weather is, more or less. He's afraid it could get even worse.”

Damita's hopes sank. She had never had occasion to fear much in her life, but now she felt helpless. She said as much to Yancy. “I wish I hadn't come on this voyage.”

“I've had the same thought.” He was not wearing a hat, and the wind blew his auburn hair over his forehead. He ran his hand through it and shook his head. “We may have to turn back and get to a port to wait this storm out.”

The two studied the waves that seemed to rise higher than the ship. They lifted the
Orestes,
then the bottom seemed to drop out. “My poor aunt,” Damita moaned. “She can't stand much of this.”

“I think we'll just have to stand it.”

A thought came to Damita. “Not a very good honeymoon trip for the McCains.”

“No, it's not.”

Her eyes still on the white waves that seemed to reach out for the ship and slap it with a huge hand, Damita asked, “Do you suppose that they'll love each other as much in a year as they do now?”

“I hope so. They're good people.”

“She told me a lot. It's almost frightening, how much she loves her husband.”

“Frightening? I think it's a good thing. You know, I heard about some geese that fly in from Canada. They mate for life, and if one of them dies, the mate stays with its partner and mourns.” Yancy shook his head faintly. Light spray showed on his face. He wiped it and said, “I wish human beings were that faithful.”

“They can be. My mother and my father are.”

“Are they? That's good news.”

“What about your parents?”

“My father died when I was two. My mother died when I was fourteen.”

“She never married again?”

“No. She loved my dad until the day she died. I always liked that about my mother.”

The ship suddenly rose up, throwing Damita off balance. She cried out and fell against Devereaux. He held her and kept her from falling.

Damita heard the screaming of the wind through the sails, but she was more aware of the fact that Devereaux was pressing her tightly against him, and that his arms had closed about her. She had known for a long time that a lone man's attention always moved like a compass to a single woman. She knew that she was attractive, and at that instant, as their eyes met, she knew that even with her storm-swept appearance, he studied her with a hungry glance.

Then he lowered his head, and she felt his lips on hers. She could have turned aside—she knew that—but she did not. Whether it was curiosity or passion, she didn't know, but she made no attempt to avoid him. His arms tightened around her. There was something demanding about his kiss, and though he was rough, he was also tender. He held her, she thought, as a man held something he was afraid he might lose.

For a moment they stood in an embrace, something besides the storm whirling rashly between them. And then she put her hand against his chest and pushed away. She was angry, not at him as much as at herself. She had responded to his advance, and she was embarrassed. “You keep your hands off me!” she shouted through the wind.

Yancy studied her face and shook his head. “Damita, you're living in a little box. You're afraid to reach out and touch life.”

“You—you leave me alone! You're nothing but a rude Kaintock!” She whirled away, and clinging to the sides of the cabin, she stumbled toward the stairs. She felt her way through the dim corridor to her door, went inside, and checked her aunt's bunk. Damita was relieved that Juanita seemed to be asleep.

She quickly traded her damp clothes for the warmest nightgown and heaviest socks she could find, climbed silently to the top bunk, and slipped under the covers. She felt the ship continue to thrash, but again and again, her mind turned to Yancy's caresses. She knew she would not forget that scene, not for a long time. She thought furiously.
He dragged me down with him. It wasn't my fault!
She settled on that.
I'll be glad when we get to Savannah so I won't have to look at him ever again.

Chapter five

A sudden lurch of the ship awoke Damita and almost rolled her off of the bunk. She managed to catch hold of a bedpost to save herself from falling to the cabin floor.

“Damita! Damita!”

“I'm coming,
ma tante
. It's all right.” Damita lowered herself from the top bunk and knelt beside the lower bunk. The lamp had been trimmed until it cast only a faint yellow corona over the cabin, and her aunt's eyes were wide with fear, her lips trembling. Damita said softly, “Don't be frightened, Aunt. It's all right.”

“No, we're going to die!” Juanita cried out. She struggled to get up, but her illness had made her so weak that she fell back helplessly. “We're going to die,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

“No, don't say that. We'll be all right.” Damita held her aunt's hand while trying to maintain her balance, kneeling on the floor. The ship, which had been tilted in one direction, slowly rose, but it did not stop when the floor was level but continued to roll. Damita was pressed against the side of her aunt's bunk. Farther over it went, and she thought frantically,
It's going to roll over! We'll all drown!

The ship recovered and shifted back to a more even keel, but at the same time the nose of the ship went down, and Damita felt it would never rise again. Desperation rose in her, and she said, “I'm going to find out what's wrong.”

“No, don't leave me, Damita!”

“I have to go,
ma tante
,” she said as she thought,
If the ship goes down, we'll need to get to the lifeboats. We'll need life preservers.
She spoke gently to her aunt. “I'll go be sure that things are all right. You lie still.”

Her aunt lay silently, her face pale as paper, and Damita put on a dress, a heavy coat, then stockings and shoes. The room tilted again, and she had to hold on to the top bunk to keep her balance. She assured her aunt, “I'll be back. Don't worry.”

Juanita did not answer but shook her head in a gesture of hopelessness. Damita wanted to go to her, but the ship was pitching now like a wild thing. She stumbled outside the cabin and into the hallway, in which just one lamp was burning. Damita heard cries from inside some of the rooms. The passageway tilted and threw her against the wall, and she struggled to stay upright as she made her way through the corridor. She finally reached the end of the passageway, and holding on to the railing, she climbed the stairs. As soon as she reached the deck, she heard the wind wailing. The early morning hour should have brought plenty of daylight, but dark clouds covered the sky, causing a dusky twilight. She could see that the force of the violent wind had torn some of the sails. They fluttered, pale banners caught in the storm.