Sea Mistress (25 page)

Seth rose abruptly from the edge of the bunk. He was in danger of succumbing to her charms all over again. He could reason out his behavior, tell himself that it was lust that was driving him to her side, but, hell, it was more than that—and he'd better be careful.

“Yes. Why, indeed?” he said. “Paul Halloran perhaps? James Kelley?”

She inhaled sharply. “That's ridiculous!”

“Is it?” His lips formed a travesty of a smile. “You forget I remember the old Bess, or should I say the true Bess. Only for a while I chose to be blind.”

Bess paled. “What are you accusing me of?”

Seth stared down at her, noting the men's clothing, which did nothing to detract from her shapely form. “Just remember that you're supposed to be my wife. I'll not tolerate flirtations with any of the men.”

She was outraged. “Why, you sanctimonious bastard!” she cried. “I'm not the one gawking at another like a lovesick puppy!” She turned over on the bunk, facing the wall, effectively cutting off conversation with him.

Seth glared at Bess's stiff back, angry and frustrated, wanting only to make wild passionate love to her, and he thought of her fury and her words. Then, his anger dissipated, and he smiled.

The ship encountered rough seas during their second day off Cape Horn. The crew had been ready for the storm for some time. The passengers had been repeatedly warned to secure their things, and should have done all they could to prepare themselves. But despite the warnings and preparations, everyone was shocked by the gale force of the winds that buffeted the
Sea Mistress
when the ravaging storm hit, and by the unleashed fury causing the ship to yaw.

The first blast of wind came in the middle of the night, shaking the ship, making her inner walls shudder. Bess, asleep, was jerked awake by the roar. She sat up and saw the lantern swinging precariously on its wall hook.

Seth was gone from his sleeping pallet on the floor, a fact she noticed immediately. She thought she had dreamed she'd heard the cry for all hands on deck, and now realized that she hadn't. Something dangerous was happening, most probably they were entering the treacherous waters near Cape Horn.

Frowning, she climbed from the bunk and went to the lantern, grabbing it from the hook, concerned about fire. She recalled the survivors of the
Lady Grey,
and how the ship had gone down because of a spark. But if she extinguished the flame, she thought, then she would be in darkness during the storm. She lowered the wick instead as much as she could while allowing the lamp to continue to burn and replaced it onto the wall hook.

It would take several days to round the Cape, Seth had told her. Times that could be pleasant or stormy, depending on their position, the weather, and the sea itself. Bess wondered how they were going to last through the rough days, if they would complete the journey safely.

She wished Seth were here in the cabin with her. The noise of the storm was unlike anything she'd ever heard before, worse than the squall they had encountered during the first weeks after their departure from Wilmington. Bess wanted to hear from Seth's lips that they were going to be all right, to see his reassuring smile, and feel the comfort of his strong arms about her.

The hatch opened and as if conjured up from her dreams, Seth entered, his gaze immediately fastening on her where she sat on the bunk. A sudden lurch of the ship made the hatch slam shut behind him and propelled Seth forward until he was gripping the edge of the bunk to steady himself.

“We're nearing the cape,” he told her, his expression stern. She nodded. “This storm is going to seem like a long one, but it will actually be only the first of several. My advice is to stay below. These rough seas can wash a body overboard in a matter of seconds.”

Bess shuddered at the thought. “Will we make it?” she asked.

He smiled, a bold, dashing smile that lit up his face and made her heart palpitate like the churning wheels of a speeding locomotive. “Aye.”

But then his grin abruptly died. “Be careful, Bess. Secure yourself in your bunk. If you don't, you're liable to get hurt.” He bent his head closer, and his breath shivered deliciously against her neck and ear. “I'd be extremely unhappy if anything happened to you, Lisabeth.”

“I will,” she promised, and was rewarded with another smile.

A huge wave must have caught the
Sea Mistress,
for the ship listed to the port side before righting itself. Seth fell forward with the force of the motion, and Bess and Seth bumped against one another, Seth's head against Bess's shoulder. Instinctively, Bess encircled Seth with her arms, holding him as they regained their balance. She felt the warmth of him against her breasts and wished for another time and place . . . and set of circumstances.

As he pulled away and straightened, Seth caught her gaze, his blue eyes gleaming with desire. “Ah, Bess . . . if only . . .” He halted his words. “I'd best get above,” he said, apparently changing his mind about what he was going to say. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

They heard shrill cries coming from the cabin across the passageway. Earlier, upon instruction from James Kelley, Bess had stored all the loose items in the cabin safely away in Seth's sea chest. From the loud crashing sounds coming from the officers' cabin, Bess wondered if the other women had done what they were told and had wisely stowed their belongings.

She saw the direction of Seth's glance. She stood, gripping a beam supporting the deck above. “I'll check on them,” she said.

He looked at her worriedly and as if he were going to argue. Then, his brow cleared. “All right. I suppose they might need you, but please be careful. The worse, I'm afraid, is yet to come.”

Without warning, he bent and kissed her briefly. “Hold tight, love,” he told her with a half smile playing about his mouth. Then, he went topside.

Bess's mouth was tingling as he left the cabin, although the contact was too light and quick to be satisfying for either one of them.

Bess let go of the beam and made her way toward the hatch, grabbing anything she could on her way to keep herself steady. Once she stumbled, but she was able to right herself quickly, for she had gotten used to being at sea, and her legs were as steady as those of many of the seamen on board. She had a feeling, though, that the other women couldn't make the same claim. She could hear Mathilde's high-pitched screams and sobbing from the other two women. The noise they made was enough to fray one's nerves. Bess decided that she had to find a way to calm them or the voyage about the cape was liable to be that much more difficult for everyone on board.

Bess had fallen asleep in her shirt and trousers, something she'd done every night since she and Seth had almost completed the act of love. There was no denying the sizzling energy between them, and after the last time when she'd almost given herself to him completely . . .

I love him,
she realized with a sense of shock. Still. Even though he had never come back for her five years before.

Could it be that he regretted his decision not to return? She knew he desired her. But was that all there was to his feelings for her? Lust?

Bess held on to whatever she could get a hand grip on as she made her way across the cabin and passageway to the officers' quarters. Mathilde Dunnon was inside, shrieking, the sound now drowning out any cries made by the other two women.

After a moment's pause, Bess knocked hard on the hatch, and the shrill noise stopped.

“Captain?” a frightened voice said.

“It's Bess.” She hesitated. “Bess Garret.” She had difficulty saying her married name.

Someone bid her to enter, and Bess noted three pale faces as she went inside. Rebecca and Clara Montague were huddled together on the bottom bunk, while Mathilde Dunnon looked sick and scared where she sat on the floor, clutching the edge of the bunk.

“My God,” Mathilde gasped. “What is happening? Are we sinking?”

“If we were sinking,” Clara pointed out, “there'd be water in our cabin. Lots of it!”

“We're encountering a storm as we begin to round the Cape,” Bess said, grabbing onto the table to keep from tumbling as the ship rocked.

“Oh, Lord,” Mathilde wailed. “We're going to die! We're going to die. I can just feel it!”

“We're not going to die, Mrs. Dunnon,” Rebecca said. But the auburn-haired woman looked worried as she held tight to the bottom of the top bunk.

Although the situation was a serious one and she felt sympathy for Mathilde, Bess had to smile at the heavy-set woman's theatrics. “Rebecca is right. Seth is a wonderful captain. He knows what he's doing. I should take comfort in knowing you're in capable hands.”

Rebecca managed a weak smile. “He does seem a good captain.” Her expression clearly stated that she was quite taken with him, and the jealousy Bess felt was fleeting but sharp, until she reminded herself that it was she he'd married, not this red-haired eighteen-year-old.

“If the motion of the ship gets too rough, you can secure yourself in the bunk with a rope,” Bess told them, and she proceeded to tell them how to do so without injury, having learned the proper way from Seth.

Mathilde Dunnon was horrified at the idea. “Tie ourselves in!” she exclaimed. “Why, that's barbaric!”

The vessel tipped far to the starboard side, and all four women gasped, jolted by the violence of the ship on an angry sea.

Bess was the first to recover from fright. “Don't worry,” she said, feeling shaky, but hoping she hid it well. “It'll be all right.”

“No, no we won't,” Mathilde insisted in a high-pitched whine. “We're all going to die!”

Clara started to sob. “We're going to die! We're going to die!”

“We are not,” Bess insisted sternly. She silently pleaded for Rebecca's help. The young woman appeared panic-stricken, but she was nowhere near the hysterical point.

They could barely hear the shouts of the men on the main deck above them. The thunder of the storm and the roar of the wind were terrifyingly loud, like being in a train while it raced through a tunnel while someone nearby beat intermittently on a drum.

Bess almost had to shout to be heard. “Rebecca, there's nothing to be afraid of. Our lives are in the hands of very competent seamen. That's why I— my cousin,” she amended, “hired Captain Garret to transport our goods.”

Rebecca nodded, and the fear eased away from her expression.

“Take care of your aunt. Make her see that everything will be all right,” Bess instructed the auburn-haired woman. “I'll see if I can't speak with my husband.”

She saw no one as she left the women's cabin. Every able-bodied man would be on the main deck. Where was Reeves? In the fo'c'sle riding out the storm? Or above on the main deck working alongside the crew?

As she struggled to climb the ladder, she decided that she must speak with John Reeves, who had been avoiding her like she had a contagious disease since her marriage to Seth. She missed him, and wished she had someone to confide in. It hurt her to be estranged from her most trusted friend. She knew she should have spoken to him before now, but there had been little time to do so, what with the marriage and then the rescue of the survivors from the
Lady Grey.
And her feelings for Seth had taken up most of her thoughts, giving her a great deal to think about and fear.

The cold, wet blast of air that hit Bess as she ascended to the main deck stole her breath away, tearing the hair pins from her blonde tresses, whipping the tendrils about her face her neck. She made a grab for the wayward strands, but then almost fell when she lost her balance. Grasping for a handhold, she righted herself, ignored her hair, and searched for Seth.

A continual clicking noise drew her attention to the gathering balls of ice across the deck.
Hail!
There was actually ice mixed in with the pouring rain.

Bess was soaked within seconds, so cold that she was shivering and wishing herself below. The sound of the storm was deafening. A wave came up over the side of the ship's hull, crashing onto the wooden deck, before sliding back into the churned-up sea. The sky was an inky black, almost like night, but not quite, for there was just enough light to be able to see. It was a startling sight to behold all the same.

The crewmen were desperately battling the elements, struggling to secure ropes, scurrying about to obey harsh shouts of command. Bundled up in their peacoats, their heads protected by their wide-brimmed tarred hats, they worked to keep control of the vessel, their faces lashed by the ocean salt spray and stinging rain, their feet slipping on an icy deck.

Fear squeezed Bess's heart as she spied Seth on the quarter deck, his hands firm on the ship's wheel. James Kelley stood at his side, ready to relieve him at a second's notice, at times, grabbing hold of the wheel when a particularly strong wave rose high on the ship's side before getting beneath her to toss the
Sea Mistress
high.

Bess saw the wall of water and prayed hard as the ship rose up until all she could see was sky, no water at all. Then, the vessel was down in the water again, being thrown about as if it were a small boat instead of a good-sized American clipper ship. As she clung to the decking, her head and shoulders above the hatch, Bess studied the distance between Seth on the quarter deck and herself on the ladder. She wondered if she could make it and whether it was important enough even to try.

Seth happened to glance her way then. It was hard to see his expression, for the sleet had intensified all of a sudden with the addition of snow, and the wind drove the ice, rain, and snow at an angle, making visibility difficult. She saw him lean toward the first mate, saw James Kelley look in her direction. And then the mate was waving his arms at her, gesturing her to go below.

She immediately obeyed, because she knew it would be foolhardy not to. But she went with renewed fear in her heart, for she was afraid for all of the men . . . for Seth. She had seen the danger of the upper deck and was horrified.

She rallied her courage and decided to help in the one way she could without hindering the men above. She returned to the berth deck and the officers' cabin where three frightened women waited to be reassured. And she smiled and assured them that she had spoken to Seth, that the storm was fierce now, but would soon be over. Everything would be all right.

She gave the performance of a lifetime. She lied and prayed the lie would come true.

The storm continued for what seemed like days but must have been only hours. Bess's lie did little to calm the poor, terrified women. Their hysterics wore on Bess's nerves until she thought that dying a quick death might be preferable to enduring the screeching, shrieking noises from both the storm and the other three women passengers on board.