The Great Alone (18 page)

“She is seasick,” he announced.

The Aleut’s glance swept Tasha’s pale face as if to confirm it, then he grunted something and walked off, apparently indifferent to her illness. But her weakened state aroused Andrei’s protective male instincts.

He motioned to one of the promyshleniki on deck to come help him, then said to Tasha, “We will take you below where you can lie down.” Her head moved, but he wasn’t sure it was an acknowledgment.

The continuous rise and fall of the vessel made it difficult to keep their balance as Andrei and the promyshlenik lifted Tasha to her feet. She made a feeble attempt to help them, but the effort was almost more of a hindrance. She moaned softly as they worked their way across the lurching deck to the hatchway, her slack body leaning into Andrei.

The hatchway wasn’t wide enough for three. Andrei nodded a dismissal to the Russian hunter. “I will take her from here.” He half scooped her limp body into his arms and carried her down the steps.

Pausing outside his cabin, he kicked the door open and maneuvered them inside his quarters. Her head lolled against his jaw, the texture of her hair silken against his skin. He glanced down at her as she moaned again, then carried her to his bunk and set her down.

Andrei knew that he’d been wanting her in his bed, but this wasn’t the circumstance he’d had in mind. Sweat beaded on her forehead and above her lips as she sat on the side of the bunk barely able to hold herself upright. Andrei glanced at the long fur parka she wore, remarkably unstained by vomit.

“Let’s take this off,” he muttered, mainly to himself, since he doubted she was in any condition to understand him.

After some difficulty, he managed to get it over her hips. After that it was easy to pull it over her head. Briefly he was treated to the sight of her nude body, the young upward thrust of her breasts. She swayed without his support, and he reached out to steady her, feeling the firmness of her flesh, a sensation he hadn’t enjoyed in some time. His wife’s body had long been flaccid, and there were few whores in Siberia who were not fat or infected or starving bags of bones. Siberia was a place where young women quickly became old. A rich man like himself had his choice, but the pickings were slim.

A groan came from Tasha’s throat. She looked at him, her eyes appearing as round as saucers. Suddenly she clamped a hand over her mouth. Reacting swiftly, Andrei grabbed the chamber pot and lifted its lid in time to catch the spewed vomit.

When she had finished, he laid her down on the bunk and reluctantly covered her naked body with a blanket. He moved away to moisten a cloth with water from the container in his cabin, then came back to the bunk to wipe her damp face. She lay motionless with her eyes closed, the fringe of black lashes making long shadows on her pale skin. Andrei noticed she was lying on the knot of her hair and gently reached beneath her head to loosen the confining bun. He fanned it away from her face, letting the smooth strands slide through his fingers.

“I feel so sick,” she murmured weakly.

“I know you do.” Andrei folded the damp cloth and laid it across her brow.

Rising, he looked at her a moment, then walked over to the table where his charts of the island chain were spread out. He studied them again, searching to see if there was another cluster of islands besides the one he’d found that matched the description Walks Straight had given him.

Several more times she threw up, until there was nothing left in her stomach except bile. Eventually exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep. Andrei remained in the cabin a while longer, then went topside to check on their course. He stayed on deck only a short time, drawn back to his quarters by the thought of Tasha lying in his bunk.

Come evening, she was racked by dry heaves. Andrei had some broth prepared for her and fed her a spoonful every few minutes. Some of it eventually came up. It wasn’t compassion or pity that kept him in the cabin. Andrei guessed it was the opportunity to indulge in his growing fascination for this Creole—to stare for as long as he liked at the curve of her cheekbone or the nipple of an exposed breast, and to imagine whatever he chose.

A knock sounded on his cabin door. “Yes, what is it?” Andrei demanded.

“It’s fog, sir, thick as curdled cream.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Andrei waited for the footsteps to retreat, then walked over to the bunk and tucked the blanket around Tasha once more. She moaned softly in her sleep. He stroked her cheek with his finger, her skin so smooth and cool to his touch. She stirred. Reluctantly he turned and left the cabin.

On the deck, a dense fog swathed the vessel, obscuring the outline of the bow and hiding the top of the masts. Visibility was reduced to a few yards. An eerie stillness heightened every sound. The clump of his boots rang hollowly on the slick deck as Andrei moved to the helm. Wisps of mist swirled around him, disturbed by his passing, while water dripped from the sails. Only the motion of the deck and the slap of the waves against the wooden hull confirmed they were still at sea and not drifting on some ghostly cloud.

The compass indicated the vessel was maintaining its easterly heading, but it was impossible to see what was ahead of them. According to his charts, all islands were supposed to be to the south of their present course, but the map details were sketchy at best. Andrei did not need to warn any of the men to be alert for the crash of breakers or the presence of kelp beds that would mean they were near land. The blinding fog made them all vigilant.

It was well into the early hours of the morning before Andrei returned to his cabin, satisfied his vessel was in no immediate danger. Tasha lay draped along the side of the bunk, uncovered from the waist up. The sight of her body aroused a surge of energy that overcame his tiredness. But however great the temptation to crawl into the bunk with her, the smell of vomit was a sufficient deterrent.

Finding her nudity too much of a temptation to resist, Andrei took one of his cotton shirts from his sea chest and slipped it on her. Her lashes fluttered open once when he lifted her and pushed an arm through a sleeve. After fastening some of the buttons, he let his hand cup the jutting roundness of a breast, feeling the way it filled his palm. She moaned, turning her head to the side. Grimly he recognized that the low sound came from her sickness, not from pleasure.

He pushed to his feet and gathered up the extra blanket on the bunk, then walked to the lamp swaying from a cross beam. He turned down the wick, allowing only a small flame to throw off a dim glow. The lurking shadows immediately closed in. Wrapped in the blanket, he sprawled in the chair, letting the dipping swing of the boat rock him. Sleep was a long time coming as he stared at the female in his bunk—his native bride.

For an entire week, Andrei spent the bulk of his time in the cabin, where Tasha alternated between bouts of violent seasickness and a nauseated stupor. She had lucid times when she objected to being spoon-fed the broth or gruel he’d had prepared for her and tried to do it herself, but she hadn’t the strength. Twice he bathed her, the motion of his hand invariably becoming a caress.

Several times her Aleut half brother entered the cabin unannounced to see how she was. Andrei always detected an element of distrust in the young man’s eyes, but the Aleut never said anything, simply lingered a few minutes and then left. There was no doubt in Andrei’s mind that Walks Straight didn’t like Russians. Even without the chief’s saying so, he would have known it. The native hunter had held himself aloof from the whole company during the voyage thus far. Sometimes Andrei wondered how much he could trust him, but it was plain that the Aleut thought a great deal of his half sister. As long as Andrei had her, he had a hold over him.

While the water heated in the brass samovar, Andrei added the loose leaves of China tea to the small pot. Holding the teapot under the spigot at the urn’s base, he turned the handle. Nearly boiling water plunged over the tea leaves in the bottom of the pot, releasing their piquant aroma. It was a welcome smell in a cabin that reeked of sickness. Andrei let the tea steep for a few minutes, then poured it into two glasses in metal holders. He carried one to the bunk where Tasha sat propped against the bulkhead and gave it to her. The cuffs of his cotton shirt were rolled back to free her hands. They slipped further down her forearms as she lifted the glass to her lips with both hands. She took a small sip, then weakly lowered the glass to rest it on her lap.

“I think I’m feeling better,” she said, but her voice lacked strength.

He smiled absently, aware that she had been keeping down more fluids these last two days. “Would you like to go up on deck after you finish your tea and get some fresh air?”

“Yes, I would.”

He carried her topside, swaddled in a blanket, and settled her on a keg in a sheltered corner of the deck where the wind couldn’t reach her. His attitude toward her was neither gentle nor solicitous; rather it was possessive, leaving the men in little doubt that their commander had claimed her for himself alone.

Breathing in deeply, Tasha filled her lungs with the sweet, fresh air. The motion of the shitik didn’t seem to bother her nearly as much. She hoped fervently that she had finally become accustomed to it. She never wanted to be that sick again. It shamed her to think how much trouble she had been to Andrei, yet she was warmed, too, by the memory of the countless times she’d opened her eyes and found him there watching over her.

Her eyes sought him out among the hunters on deck. She decided she liked his craggy profile as much as she liked his eyes. There was strength and determination in it, along with a canny intelligence. Beneath the blanket, she touched the shirt of his she wore. She had gotten used to the feel of its material against her skin and the protection it offered from the scratchy blanket. He had been good to her. Even Walks Straight had to acknowledge that. She saw her brother standing alone at the rail, scanning the sea. She realized he would never make friends with the Cossacks, not even with her new husband.

The outing quickly tired her. The least effort seemed to exhaust her. It frightened her to realize how weak she had become, when she’d always been so strong. She sagged against the hatchway’s bulkhead and shut her eyes to rest a moment. A hand touched her shoulder. Tasha looked up to find Andrei bending over her.

“Do you feel all right?”

“I am tired,” she admitted.

He said no more and picked her up, carried her back to his cabin below deck and set her down on the bunk. Tasha rolled onto her side and fell asleep almost as soon as the door swung shut behind him.

The following afternoon, Tasha lay in the bunk. Her stomach felt comfortably full from the small bowl of soup she’d eaten. Andrei had assured her that food and rest were what she needed to get her strength back. Yet now that she was feeling better, the idleness made her restless.

She heard a sudden commotion on deck—muffled shouts and the clumping of boots. She strained to catch the cause of the excitement but she could only understand snatches of words. The cabin door swung open and her brother stepped soundlessly into the room.

“What is happening? Have they seen a whale?” Nothing else in her village would have created such a stir.

“They have sighted the islands. The tall, pronged peak of Adak stands clear of the clouds. The boat heads for it now.”

“Then we have arrived,” Tasha said.

“Soon they will see how good the hunting is here and they will know I did not lie.”

She looked at her brother. “Did they think you had?”

“I heard some of them wonder if I was guiding them into the middle of the sea. One of them cut a hole in my bidarka so I could not escape in it,” he answered bitterly.

“Is it a big hole?” Without his bidarka, a hunter was powerless.

“It crosses almost two skins.”

“I will patch it for you,” Tasha promised, then asked, “Does Andrei know of this?”

“It would do no good. The Cossacks claim something fell on it, but I know the way a hide looks when a knife cuts it.” His resentment went deep, and this incident was like sea water on an open wound. Tasha understood, too, that Walks Straight was saying this to warn her. “You are feeling better?” he asked at last.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Good.” His gaze lingered on her another minute, then he turned and walked out of the cabin.

Alone again, Tasha listened to the waning flurry of activity on the deck overhead. With the island in sight, Andrei would soon have need of her to speak to the villagers for him. She swung her legs over the side of the bunk and stood up to test her strength. She wobbled uncertainly for an instant, but they held her. Walking slowly, Tasha crossed the cabin to the table and stopped there to lean against it, fighting the light-headed feeling. She heard footsteps approaching the cabin and recognized them as Andrei’s. The door swung open as she turned toward it, keeping a hand braced on the table for balance.

“Tasha—” The sight of the empty bunk stopped him in midstride. With a jerk of his head, he looked around and saw her standing by the table. The lines of his forehead gathered into a frown. “Tasha, what are you doing up?”

“I had to see if I could walk by myself. I wouldn’t be much help to you lying down.”

The tails of his shirt hung down to her thighs, leaving a long expanse of bare leg exposed to his view. Andrei noticed the barely perceptible buckling of her knees and realized she was less steady than she appeared. He moved quickly to her and girdled her waist with his hands, catching up the loose material of his shirt. Her hands immediately grasped for the support of his upper arms as she swayed into him.