Crimson Rapture (5 page)

And
he was so young! His career, his great ambitions, indeed his whole life had
stretched before him. All was lost, stolen by a dark unpleasant death lying in
wait around the corner.

For
the better part of an hour the rum fueled an impotent rage as he lay on his
bunk staring blankly at the four walls, in futile search of some hope, any
hope. There was none, though his senses heightened insidiously until it seemed
as though death hovered directly overhead. Shadows darkened and the air grew
thick and stifling.

He
had to escape...

The
sun had just disappeared on the horizon and the air was a breath cooler when
Christina finally managed to steal a few precious moments to talk with Justin.
She felt disturbed, a vague restlessness put her on the edge of her seat,
despite the hectic and exhausting day. And Justin could hear the strain in her
voice as she related the events.

"I've
never been more scared in my life." She related the fight that had
occurred in her cabin. Like most men, he found physical fights among females at
best amusing, at worst disgusting. "And goodness but Marianna needed Dr.
Michaels's services and it took Elsie nearly an hour to calm poor Hanna down
and my, but it was awful, just awful. I don't know what's happening to
everyone. Everyone's behaving so cruelly, so... uncivilized."

Justin
smiled, for it was exactly what he would expect Christina to think in such a
situation.

"Even
the ladies are behaving poorly. Do you know what Lady Everett said to Hanna
yesterday?"

"No,
what?" he asked, not really concerned until he heard it.

"She
asked Hanna to give up her water ration to her, practically making it an order!
Can you imagine— Oh no—" she stopped abruptly, looking up to see Mr.
Carrington standing just feet away.

"Well,
well," Carrington said with a slight slur as he stepped toward her.
"It seems the lovely Miss Marks does favor at least one man with her
company."

Something
was terrible wrong and Christina recognized the trouble. Smiling wryly at
having caught her in the act, the man had a crazed look. His hair and uniform
were disheveled, perspiration lined his brow, and he seemed at once like a
madman. She never hesitated or bothered to reply. She immediately rose to leave
but as she stood up, Carrington grabbed her in a painful grasp and jerked her
hard around.

"Please...
let me go!"

"Scream,
Christina!" Justin yelled.

A
scream rose in her throat, but Carrington clamped his hand hard over her mouth.
He shoved her against the wall, knocking the wind from her, and then stopping
her struggle by pressing his body into her.

"You
bastard! Take your hands off her!"

She
squirmed desperately and terrified, she could not catch her breath. She thought
for a blessed moment she would faint.

Carrington
loosened his hold on her mouth and she gulped in breath. He looked down at the
hole, amused by Justin's outrage, his helplessness to do anything about it.
"Ah, have no fear, Mister High and Mighty Phillips," he laughed,
returning his gaze to Christina's terrified eyes. "I will give you the
pleasure of listening as I have this treat."

Carrington's
mistake was in thinking Justin was helpless, for anyone who knew him knew that
he was never but never helpless. Justin reached his arm through the hole,
managed to find Carrington's booted foot and, like the jaws of a shark, he
grabbed the man's ankle and pulled with frightening strength. Caught off guard,
Carrington was thrown off balance and fell with a loud thud against the deck.

"Run,
sweetheart!" Justin shouted and then, with one merciless strong hand still
on Carrington's ankle, he pulled the leg, twisted it through the hole, and
pressed down until he heard a sickening crack of bone.

Christina
swung open the door of her quarters and burst inside. The door slammed shut.
She collapsed to the floor and pulled her knees up into a tight ball, trying
first to quiet the pounding of her heart and then to make sense of the furious
noises on deck.

Hanna
lifted herself onto her elbows and looked curiously at Christina.
"Christy! Wat's 'appened to you?"

Christina's
eyes lifted to the lower bunk and instantly she flew to Hanna's side. "Oh
Hanna—" The story gushed out in a rush of whispered words, all of it—her
friendship with Justin, the horrid Mister Carrington's attack, and Justin's
rescue.

Hanna's
soft brown eyes widened in stages. Christina and Mr. Justin Phillips! She had
heard, oh just the most wickedly delicious stories of Mister Justin Phillips
and it had been a great thrill just knowing Elsie and she were voyaging on the
very ship that carried the man to Australia. But to discover that shy Christina
had been talking with him the whole trip long—so that's what she was always
doing on deck! —was about the most exciting, juicy bit of news.

Hanna
kicked Elsie's bunk, waking Elsie from a deep sleep. The whole story was
quickly repeated. Elsie, who shared Hanna's exact sentiments, looked down at
Christina first with incredulity and then respect.

"Why
Christina! You and Mister Justin Phillips! Oh goodness, I kin 'ardly believe
it!" She clamped her hands together. "Ere we be doomed for sure and
you've been 'aving an affair with the very devil 'imself! W'at's 'e like,"
she asked breathlessly. "Wat's 'e really like?"

Confusion
lifted through Christina's distress. They had completely missed the point.
"You don't understand! Justin hurt Mister Carrington! He'll be in trouble
with the captain! I—" A furious banging sounded on deck interrupting her.
There was shouting, running and orders. "What's happening?" Christina
cried.

"I'll
go find out," Hanna said, climbing down.

"Oh
would you?"

"Sure
I will," she whispered, grabbing only a flimsy shawl to put over her
nightdress and tiptoeing through the door.

In
other circumstances even Hanna would never dare venture out among men dressed
in flimsy night-clothes. Predictably however, as each windless day passed and
added ever increasing increments of desperation to the situation, one by one
manners and formalities dropped. Few passengers even rose from bed, yet alone
bothered to attend to pretenses, propriety, or appearances.

Elsie
took Christina's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but they remained in
anxious silence, waiting and listening to what was now sounding like a furious
battle above. Christina kept glancing at the opposite bunks, wondering how in
the world Marianna and Katie could sleep through the noise? At one point she
thought she heard laughter, Justin's laughter, but surely that couldn't be.

It
seemed well over half an hour had passed before Hanna finally slipped back
through the door, her dark eyes wide as saucers.

"What
happened?" Christina asked, jumping to her feet.

"You
won't believe it! I swear you won't! Seems your Mister Phillips broke the
bloody bastard's leg. No one kin figure 'ow 'e did it, locked up like that. But
oh my, the captain's in a rage, 'e is! 'E ordered Mister Phillips
whipped—"

"Oh
no!"

"Yes!
'E did! 'E did! But seems it can't be done. That's the ruckus we've been
over'earing. Mister Phillips is a fightin' like a wild animal, 'e is and so far
'e's knocked out four of the crew, knocked 'em out cold. The captain orders 'is
men in, then Mister Phillips throws em out, until now there's not a bloody soul
left willin' ta go in!"

"Justin?"
She didn't believe Justin was capable of this, of such violence. There was a
mistake—

"Yes!"
Hanna answered excitedly. "The captain, well, 'e's furious, 'e is. 'E's
standin' on deck screamin' 'tis mutiny and that if'n we reach Aussie, 'e'll see
'em all court-martialed and that 'e's a gonna starve Mister Phillips out if 'e
don't shoot 'im first—"

"Shoot
him!" Christina cried, and hearing the unthinkable, she raced from the
cabin. She ran down the dark hall, up the steps, and out on deck. She spotted
Captain Forester on the quarterdeck, still shouting orders at his men. In a
swift rush of skirts, she climbed the ladder, ran, and fell to her knees before
the captain.

"Please
Captain Forester," she begged with all the drama her youth afforded,
"please don't shoot him! It was all my fault..."

Captain
Forester interrupted his orders and looked down at Miss Christina Marks's
lovely upturned face. Tears streamed down flushed cheeks, making her eyes so
misty, so translucent, and, for a brief moment, he could only stare in
stupefaction.

My
God, what was the girl going on about? Here he was in the middle of an emergency
that could cost his ship. He had hardly the time and even less inclination or
energy to listen to Miss Marks's trouble, whatever it was, though her sudden
rush of words was noted. Like every other passenger and crew member, Miss Marks
had finally lost her wits under the strain of events and small wonder too,
considering how arduously the young lady worked alongside Dr. Michaels to help
others.

"Secure
these men to quarters!" the captain shouted, interrupting her lamenting
and lifting her to her feet. She seemed most distraught though, her tone of
desperation touched his heart even through his far weightier concerns. He was
just about to order her off to the overburdened ship's surgeon, or perhaps
those women with whom she shared quarters, when, suddenly—by some miraculous
intervention—the barest whisper of a breeze blew across the deck.

For
the response it solicited, the breeze might have been the trumpets of heaven
signaling an opening of the gates. Everyone, the twenty or so men standing on
deck, the captain, and Christina, stopped and then froze, waiting for senses to
confirm the long-awaited phenomenon. Each half feared their dazed and desperate
minds might have just played a cruel trick.

But
no, it was real. It was real!

Cheers
sounded loud and long, mixed with cries of hallelujah, as men jumped up and
down hugging and slapping each other on the back. The captain cried too and
having lifted Christina to her feet, he embraced her as though she was a
long-lost daughter. "We're saved! The Lord has saved us!" and in the
same breath, the captain turned to the welcomed labor of starting his ship
sailing.

Left
suddenly alone, Christina stared first at the captain shouting orders to his
excited crew and the abrupt bustling of activity. She stepped quietly to the side
of the ship and looked out into the ink-black night. A thousand blinking lights
and the cloudy ribbon of the Milky Way laced the vast black night, separating
sea and sky. Lanterns on the ship cast long ribbons of light into the water.
Ribbons of light that began to move with this wisp of a breeze.

The
breeze grew stronger as she stood there. It tickled her skin and blew stray
wisps of hair from her face. A chill ran up her spine and she knew, she knew as
surely as she drew breath that something tragic waited for her. Waited for
everyone.

"Justin!"

She
experienced the premonition of a feeling rather than a conscious level and the
feeling was one of fear, a panic of startling intensity. She attributed it
immediately to a turn of events that would bring Justin to a life in prison.
Without a thought that the decks swarmed with men and even other passengers
now, she raced to Justin's small hole and flung herself on her hands and knees.

"Justin!
Justin," she could barely manage to whisper through her tears.

Justin
rose swiftly to his feet. Her voice was just what he wanted to hear.
"Christina? Are you all right? Did that bastard hurt you?"

"Me?"
She was the last person she was concerned about. "Justin, the wind! It's
come, it's finally come!

"And
thank God too. I heard the shouts and I felt the movement and all I can say is
thank God! These walls are—"

"But,
Justin, we'll reach Australia now and... and they'll send you to prison and...
and I'll never see you again—" She stopped and covered her mouth, her
voice choking on her tears.

Justin
chuckled, could not help himself. She was by no means the first woman he had
reduced to tears but never had he felt taken by such a tender display of
emotion and concern.

"What
shall we do, Justin? I... I just can't bear it—"

"Hold
on, hold on, sweetheart," he said softly. "I assure you, I have no
intention of spending my life in prison."

"You...
you don't?"

"No,
Christina. Two of my ships are at this very moment probably about fifty miles
off and heading this way. My ships have been suffering these same doldrums out
there, but now they should be here by tomorrow afternoon, the day following at
the latest. I'm a fortunate man." He smiled unseen. "Each of my men
would gladly risk his life for me and none of them would ever rest until I was
free."

Stunned
and then confused, Christina was reduced to silence. He must be imagining
things. It was wishful, fanciful thinking or perhaps—she gasped— he had lost
his mind.

"How
do you know this?" she asked haltingly, "that your ships are out there?"