Dawn on a Distant Shore (42 page)

But a fine misting
rain met them, and skies the color of old pewter. Hannah helped Hakim Ibrahim
with the trees, which were watered from the rain barrels on deck. And all the
time she kept an eye out for Mr. MacKay, and studied the horizon.

There was no sign of
another ship like the
Isis
. After this first disappointment a truth
showed itself to her as she stood at the rail: she would like the sea if she
had come to it of her own accord. In the sharp salt air something deep inside
her fluttered open as surely as pennants and flags fluttered overhead. Hannah
drew in all the air that she could hold, and felt her skin rise with the
pleasure of it.

It was very still; the
winds had come to rest to suit the
Isis
drifting so aimlessly in the
smoky green-gray sea. The sky was full of birds: black-backed gulls, skuas
calling to each other in scratchy voices,
ha! ha! ha!,
others that the
Hakim did not recognize, all of them coasting broad-winged on the scant wind.
She envied the birds, who would see the topsails of the
Osiris
first,
even before the lookout high in his perch above their heads. She thought of
climbing the rigging herself. It would not be very hard: the cliffs on the
north face of Hidden Wolf were higher, with less to hold on to.

But the captain was
watching her from the quarterdeck, so Hannah turned her attention out over the
sea to the north where a small ship sat hove-to with dories scattered around it
in an arc.

"Cod
fishermen," the Hakim explained.

There were four
dories, narrowly built and sharply pointed at either end, just big enough for
two fishermen and their catch between them. Over the water came the faint sound
of singing from the dory nearest the
Isis
, in a language Hannah could
not name by its rhythms. She watched as the two men stood, one after the other,
the dory tipping up to flash its red-painted underside. They began to haul in a
line, one of them flipping cod onto the growing mound with a back-handed jerk
while the other coiled the emptied line into a great round tub. Hannah thought
of her home waters where full-grown men wrestled with sturgeon and sometimes
lost, waters full of wily trout and catfish with fins that could slice a finger
to the bone. These saltwater cod had no fight in them, lining up to take the
hook like schoolchildren waiting patiently to have their palms caned.

A voice behind them,
and Hannah jumped in alarm. But it was Captain Pickering this time, and his expression
was one of real concern.

"You would be
more comfortable in the round-house," he said. "Out of the
rain." He stood in the posture of all the officers, with his hands clasped
at his back and his misshapen head tilted to one side, trying not to look at
her clothing, the fringed overdress and close-fitting leggings, the new
moccasins, all darkening now in the rain. His own face was shadowed by his
tricorn. The Hakim moved farther along the deck, checking to make sure that
each tree was still securely tied. Hannah wished he would come back.

"I like the
rain," she said.

The captain was the
strangest kind of O'seronni, one of those who pretended not to see what was
plain to see, as if to look at her and know her for who she was might cause
them both to disappear. Elizabeth had tried to explain it to her many times: it
was how they kept distance from one another in a world that had become too
crowded, this seeing but not seeing.

He cleared his throat,
once and then again. She knew very well that he was looking for some way to
apologize to her.

Hannah said, "How
long do you think it will be before the
Osiris
catches us up?" And
waited to see if he could lie to her when she looked him in the eye.

The captain drew in
his huge lower lip and let it out again. "I would expect her anytime. Midday,
at the latest."

Unless something has
gone wrong
.
He did not say it, but she saw it in his expression. Hannah studied his ruined
face. Of course it was hard for him to look at the world, because the world did
not like to look at him. She wondered if he would be surprised when Giselle
Somerville left him. Some of her anger slipped away, although she did not want
to let it go.

"Miss Somerville
thinks Moncrieff will not allow my people to come on board the
Isis
."

"What a strange
thing to say." He blinked his surprise. "I am the captain of this
vessel, after all."

He did have a spine,
then. "So they are on the
Osiris
, and you will allow them on
board?"

He shifted his weight
back on his heels, and then rocked forward again. "That was the intention,
yes. I believe that is still the plan."

Not much of a spine,
Hannah corrected herself. "I wonder what Miss Somerville meant."

The captain flushed.
"I am afraid you will have to ask her yourself, but you must be patient.
She does not rise before eleven and it is not even eight of the clock
now."

Hannah might have
pushed a little harder, but a ship had appeared in the distance. For a moment
she watched it over the captain's shoulder as it bobbed in and out of sight on
the gently heaving back of the horizon. A fisherman, perhaps; perhaps something
more. She knew she should look away, but she could not, and the captain turned
to follow her line of sight.

"Mr. Smythe,
sir!" he called in a booming voice toward the quarterdeck. "What have
we there off the stern quarter? A schooner, as I see it."

"Aye, Captain.
Don't recognize her, but she's flying American colors, and coming on fast.
Perhaps a packet out of Boston. She's just hoisted the white flag, sir!"

A small shiver ran up
Hannah's back, traveled down her arms to blossom in her fingertips. She sent
the captain a sidelong glance.

"Ah, then,"
he said lightly. "Nothing to be concerned about." And still there was
a worry line etched faintly between his brows; Hannah saw it, and she saw more:
behind the captain's back Giselle Somerville came up on deck in a blaze of
green silk with a parasol tilted at a pretty angle over her dark blond head.

The drizzle picked up,
enough to send Hannah back to the surgeon's cabin to fetch a shawl and to tell
Curiosity the little she knew: a ship was approaching, but it was not the
Osiris
.
Whether or not it was the ship Giselle was waiting for was another matter.

"Maybe I should
come up on deck," Curiosity said.

Hannah shook her head.
"There's a cold rain."

Curiosity flicked her
fingers. "I ain't lived through forty winters in the great north woods for
nothing. A little wet won' hurt me." And she shooed Hannah away.

In the few minutes
that Hannah had been away the sky had lowered still further and now a steady rain
washed over the yellow planks of the deck to soak her new moccasins. Other
things had changed, too: Mr. MacKay and Moncrieff were on the bridge with the
captain. Hannah's belly twisted at the sight of them, and for the first time she
truly understood what she had heard her grandmother Falling-Day say many times,
that true anger lives not in the mind or the heart, but in the gut. She
wondered if Runs-from-Bears and Robbie would be with her father and
grandfather. Hannah could imagine them around her, a circle of trees, a magic
ring, a hoop of fire, and MacKay would have to pass through them.

He and the captain
stood side by side, both with long glasses trained on the approaching schooner,
just a few miles away now.

Hannah felt disdain,
that they should have eyes so weak. She was proud of her own eyesight, as sharp
as her father's or grandfather's. Even with the rain in her face she could see
a lot about this schooner that had all their attention: it had triangular sails
rather than square ones like the
Isis
, which turned out to be more than
a matter of fashion.

Standing at the rail
with her, Hakim Ibrahim explained it: men had to be sent up into the rigging to
set or trim square sails, but those on the other schooner could be managed from
the deck, and with fewer men. It had less of everything, it seemed to Hannah.
Fewer sails, guns, decks, and none of the intricate paintwork and gilded
decorations that sparkled on every surface of the
Isis
. It did not carry
a figurehead before it, and the name on the hull was too faded for even Hannah's
eyes to make out. The most obvious thing about the schooner was that she moved
fast under full sail even in such quiet conditions. The
Jackdaw
came at
them like a bullet at a target. Hannah shifted a little with the thought.

At the other end of
the
Isis
a warm yellow lantern light radiated out of the round-house,
the little room that stuck up from the quarterdeck like a silly hat. Through
the window in the door Giselle's green cloak flashed peacock-bright. She stood
watching. Maybe this schooner was the ship she was waiting for, after all.

Hannah pulled the
shawl tighter over her head and around her shoulders, but it could not keep out
the damp cold and she shivered.

"Perhaps you
should go below," said Hakim Ibrahim.

But the hatch
clattered, and Curiosity appeared, blinking in the rain. From the depths of her
great cloak of boiled wool four round eyes peeked out, sea green and blue.
Daniel let out a shout at the sight of her, and wiggled a hand free of his
swaddling to flap in his excitement. He was glad to be on deck, too, while Lily
scowled out at the world.

Curiosity did not look
very happy, either. Her face was a knot of concentration as she stared out at
the schooner. "What ship is it? Can you make out her name?"

"It's nothing,
just a packet," Hannah said, knowing this was not the whole truth but wary
of saying too much in front of the Hakim. "You might as well go back where
it's dry."

A muffled boom!
stepped in on her last word. And before she could say another, a stuttering of guns:
boom boom boom.

"Nothing, all
right," Curiosity said dryly. "A whole lot of it, too."

All around them the
sleepy
Isis
came to life like an anthill carelessly kicked. But the sailors
were not running to the gunports, as Hannah thought they would.

"Signal
shots," said the Hakim. "She has some message for us."

"By God!"
thundered Pickering suddenly. "That's Mac Stoker. The impudent puppy. I'll
show him to come running at me!"

But Mr. Smythe's voice
rose, cutting off his captain. "Sir! The
Jackdaw
signals that she
brings news from the
Osiris
--and an injured survivor."

Hannah felt Curiosity
jerk as that single word--survivor--echoed down the length of the ship. In her
own belly a fist closed hard, and forced its way into her throat. She looked
for Moncrieff, but he had turned his back to them.

"How shall I
respond, sir?"

"Tell her to come
alongside," said the captain. And then, raising his voice: "Mr. MacKay!
Fenders, and be quick about it!"

Just then Giselle came
out of the round-house, her hood up over her face so that Hannah could not see
her expression. With one gloved hand she pushed her hood back and she turned,
the line of her neck very long and white, to look at them. Her color was high,
as if she had a fever.

Giselle met Hannah's
gaze and inclined her head slightly as if to say,
You see how easily men are
made to dance
. Hannah might have approached her, but the crew had erupted
into a commotion of movement. Some of the men were heaving large bags of sand
over the side, where they came to rest with a series of heavy thumps.

Curiosity frowned.
"The fool won't run clean into us, will he?"

The Hakim narrowed his
eyes at the schooner. "Not many would try it, and fewer would manage it. Let
us hope this Mr. Stoker is the sailor he thinks he is. Hold fast."

Hannah's heart was
galloping faster than she could think. She sidled closer to Curiosity as they
watched the schooner come on. A tall man stood on the deck, straddle legged
with his hands on his hips.

"Stoker!"
roared the captain, leaning over the rail. "What is the meaning of
this!"

The tall man touched
his cap. "News of the
Osiris
and a wounded lad that belongs to
you!"

"By God, man,
that's why you want to heave-to alongside? This is an outrage!"

As if he had not heard
the captain, Stoker turned and gave a quick series of orders. There was a great
deal of shouting from the
Isis
--Mr. Smythe was very red in the face, and
Mr. MacKay had leaned so far over the rail that Hannah thought he might
fall--but the other ship simply came on, her crew stepping up to the rail with
grappling hooks like long crooked fingers.

When the
Jackdaw
was so close that Hannah began to really fear a collision, all the sails dropped
at once as if somewhere a thread had been cut. The schooner changed direction
slightly and then bumped up smartly against them once, and then again. Hakim
Ibrahim steadied Curiosity as the
Isis
rocked hard.