The Royal Handmaid (12 page)

“What if it does get worse?”

“Then we’ll just have to run it out. We’ll put on as little sail as we can—just enough to keep us making headway—and hope this storm runs out of steam. We’re way off course now.”

“How do you know?”

“Why, can’t you tell? We’re not on a true course.”

“I don’t know anything about things like that.”

“I’m no navigator, but I know we’re miles from where we should be. Of course, as soon as this thing blows out and the sun comes along, the captain will take a bearing and set us right again.”

“I’m ready for that right now.”

“So am I,” Shep said, his voice steady but his face revealing the doubt he felt. “So am I, buddy!”

****

Neither Rena nor Meredith had said anything for ten minutes. Both of them were aware that the storm had increased in velocity, and when they looked out the porthole, there was
nothing to see. Everything was so gray it was impossible to tell the sea from the sky. Finally Rena said in an unnaturally high voice, “Well, we’re having a little adventure.”

Meredith had been trying to read, but as the ship jerked itself around, it became more and more difficult. Closing the book, she put it down on her bunk and looked over toward Rena. “I suppose we are.”

“I think I’ll go up and ask the captain how long this is likely to last.”

“You’ll get soaked,” Meredith warned.

“I suppose so, but I’d really like to hear what he thinks.”

Leaving the cabin, Rena moved along the corridor. She climbed the ladder that led to the deck, and when she opened the door, she gasped as a torrent of water struck her in the face and soaked every thread of her garments. She gasped and hung on until the ship had rolled so that she could get outside, then shut the door. She made her way into the wheelhouse and saw that Cerny Novak was standing beside Barkley. They could not hear her with the crashing waves and whistling wind. But she could just hear Novak shouting, “We’re gonna founder if this gets any worse, Captain.”

“Take down all topsails. We’re going to have to run before the wind.”

“Yes, sir.”

Novak turned and stopped briefly when he saw Rena. Then he nodded to her without speaking and left the wheelhouse. Rena pulled herself forward, hanging on to the side and said, “Captain, how long is this going to last?”

“I have no way of knowing, Miss Rena. But we’ve got to run before the wind now.”

“What does that mean?”

“We take down all except the lower sails and go where the wind is pushing us. We’ll be way off course by the time this blow is over, so it’ll take longer than we thought to arrive at our destination.”

“But we’ll be all right, won’t we?”

“If it doesn’t get any worse.”

Rena stared at the captain. “Well . . . what if it
does
get worse?”

Captain Barkley did not answer for a time, then turned his frosty eyes on her. “We’ll just have to see what happens.” His reply was short, his voice spare.

Rena felt something close around her throat. She did not analyze the sensation enough to know that it was fear, for she had experienced little of that emotion. But as she watched the sailors frantically trimming the sails and saw the captain using brute force to control the wheel, for the first time in her life she felt frail and vulnerable. The
Mary Anne
was a speck, an atom, out on the raging Pacific, caught in the midst of a storm. She had no idea how much punishment the vessel could take. She had always thought of a ship as being like any other vehicle, something you got into, made a pleasant journey, and then stepped off at a safe harbor.

But there was nothing safe about what was going on outside. The horizon was impossible to see, and flashes of lightning broke the darkness of the sky. The wind howled with a demonic screaming as it raced across the sea. Towering waves shattered relentlessly over the
Mary Anne,
one of them catching a sailor—she thought it was Charlie Day—sweeping the small man off his feet and washing him toward the edge. He would have gone overboard if Lars Olsen had not caught him and helped him back to his feet.

Rena shouted to the captain, “It-it’ll be all right, won’t it? I mean the ship won’t sink, will it?”

“I don’t mean to frighten you, Miss Rena, but any ship can sink.” He turned to her, his face frozen by a terrible sobriety. He was not a man given to fear, Rena knew, but she had never seen this look before. “If I were you,” he said evenly, “I’d go down and tell all your friends to start praying. We’re going to need God to get us out of this.”

The captain’s words frightened Rena more than the wind and the waves, and she could not move for a moment. But
finally she turned and made her way back belowdecks. She considered doing what the captain had suggested, but she feared the team would panic. She herself was very close to losing control. She was on her way back to her own cabin when Dalton suddenly appeared.

“You’ve been on the main deck?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What did the captain say?”

“He said . . . that all of us had better pray.”

Dalton looked as though he had been struck. He did not move for a moment, then swallowed hard. “I guess he thinks it’s pretty serious, then.”

“It
is
serious, Dalton. This ship could sink.”

Dalton considered this, then said, “I’ll go up and talk to him.”

“It won’t do any good.”

“I’ll go anyway.”

Rena watched him go, then had a thought. She knocked on one of the cabin doors and it opened at once. Lanie stood there, her eyes wide. “What is it? Are we going to sink?”

Maggie was sitting on the bunk, her hands clasped together. She whispered, “What is it, Rena?”

“The ship’s in danger. The captain wants us all to pray.” She entered, shut the door, and the three women began to pray—that is, Lanie did. The other two appeared to be half paralyzed. Rena was usually the one to lead in prayer, but now her mind seemed frozen. She could no more speak than she could have flown away, and as Lanie prayed, Rena found that the strength had drained out of her. She sank down next to Maggie, and the two women threw their arms around each other as if they were small children afraid of the dark.

****

After twenty-four hours the storm had only increased in velocity. The crew had been living on cold sandwiches, but most of the passengers cared little for food. It was Benson who
went around insisting that they all eat. He was now joined by Travis, who was helping Oscar in the galley with the food.

“Have you ever been in a storm like this, Oscar?” Travis asked as he braced himself against the roll of the ship and laid a thick chunk of ham between two slices of bread.

“Once . . . back in twenty-nine. I was on a steamer then. We all thought it was gonna go down.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No, it didn’t.” Oscar turned to face Travis. “You Christians ain’t afraid to die, are you?”

“I’d just as soon not.”

“Then you
are
afraid,” Oscar said.

Travis knew that Oscar Blevins was a tough man, but he could tell that his self-confidence was shaken now. “I think we’re all afraid of anything we’ve never experienced. Like going down a flight of steps in the dark. You have to feel for the next step because you don’t know where it is. It might be gone. That kind of thing makes a fellow a little nervous.”

“I’m more than a little nervous,” Oscar said evenly.

“You don’t know the Lord, do you, Oscar?”

“No.”

“It might be a good time to think about it.”

“What kind of a man would I be to ignore God all my life and then call on Him just when I’m in trouble?”

“That’s the best time,” Travis said. He continued to make sandwiches, but he was more interested in Oscar than he was in the food. “Have you ever read the Bible?”

“Not much.”

“You ever hear about the thief on the cross when Jesus was dying?”

“Heard a sermon on that once.”

“Then you’ll remember that the thief had no hope of getting off that cross alive, yet he said, ‘Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.’ And Jesus said, ‘Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.’ ”

Blevins had poised his knife to cut through another slice
of the ham, but now he looked at Travis. “You think it’s that easy? A man’s a sinner all his life and in one second he’s not?”

“I think it has to be that way. If it weren’t for God’s mercy, no man could be good enough to please God. We’re all sinners. Every one of us. But Jesus died so we could be fit to meet God.”

Both men turned as Chipoa came hurtling through the door. He shut it behind him, muffling the howling of the wind to some degree, then turned to grin at the pair.

“It’s a little rough out there,” he exclaimed as he pulled his oilskins off and stood beside Oscar. “Not easy to cook with the ship rolling like this.”

“You ever been in a blow this bad, Chip?” Blevins asked.

“No. This is the worst.”

“You don’t seem worried,” Travis observed. “I’d say we’re in a pretty tight spot.”

Chip shrugged and pulled a biscuit out of a sealed box before he answered. “If we go down, we do. If God wants us to live, we will.” He appeared calm as always, and as he bit off a chunk of the cold biscuit, he added, “That’s one of the good things about being a Christian. No matter what happens, it’s from God.”

Travis looked skeptical. “Even if it’s bad?”

Blevins shook his head. “That don’t sound right to me—God sending bad things.”

“When that boy of yours gets sick, Oscar, you sometimes have to hold him to make him take the bad-tasting medicine, right?” Chip asked. “But you do it for his good, because you love him.”

“I guess . . . but this is different.”

“God knew before He made the world that we’d be on this ship,” he continued, “and He sent this storm. It’s all part of His plan. So I don’t worry—whatever happens next, the good Lord planned it all for our good.” He turned to Travis, asking, “What’s that Scripture you quoted yesterday—about everything being good for believers?”

“ ‘All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ”

“So that’s all we need to know. This storm will work for our good.” He grabbed a Thermos jug and said, “I told Charlie I’d bring him some hot coffee.”

As Chip left the cabin, Blevins asked Travis, “You believe all that stuff?”

“Well, it might be a little more complicated than Chip understands, but I do believe that God will take care of me, no matter what.” He put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder and said quietly, “That’s why I’d like to see you safe in Jesus, Oscar. He loves you—and He wants you to be one of His sheep.”

As the ship made its way through the mountainous seas, Travis told Oscar about his own experience in finding Christ. He saw that the tough man was listening, and he yearned to see him saved. But finally Oscar said, “I’ve been pretty sorry, but I’m not going to turn yellow at the last minute. Anyway, I think we’ll get out of this all right.”

Blevins face appeared to be working through some emotion, but he turned abruptly and left the cabin without a word. Travis stared after him sadly, then said aloud, “Lord, put your hand on Oscar. He needs you!”

Travis went topside, and the screaming wind whipped around him, plastering his clothes to his body. He had long since given up any attempt at staying dry, and now as he held tightly to the rail, he saw that Rena Matthews was there. She was wearing a raincoat and a rain hat, and as he moved closer, he shouted, “You shouldn’t be out here alone, Rena!”

Rena turned to face him. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide with fright. “I can’t stay below.”

“Well, you’re not doing any good here,” Travis said. “Come on. Let’s go down, and you can put some dry clothes on. Oscar’s made some fresh sandwiches.”

“Who could eat at a time like this?”

Travis hesitated. Rena was obviously frightened, and he
tried to assure her. “I think it’ll blow itself out. We’re going to be all right.”

“What if we don’t make it?”

“Well, if we don’t, we don’t.”

Rena lowered her head and remained silent for a long time, and when she did speak, her words were almost inaudible. Travis had to lean forward to catch them over the shrill voice of the wind. “Aren’t you afraid, Travis?”

Travis thought of Oscar, a rough fellow if there ever was one, who had just asked the same question. “Anybody would feel fear at a time like this, but I know that Jesus is here. He could speak to these waves, and they would calm down in an instant. He did that once, you remember?”

Rena turned to face him. Water ran down her face, but she paid no heed. “I’ve read that story so many times. It’s . . . it’s different when you’re actually in a storm like this.”

“It’ll be all right,” he said. “Why, I’ve had closer calls than this. I had amoebic dysentery down in Guatemala once. I lost fifty pounds, and I thought surely I was going to die.”

“Were you afraid?”

“You know, strangely enough, after a while I wasn’t. I asked God to give me His peace, and Brother Golden and his wife Merline, the missionaries down there, prayed for me. And it was like God put me in a big bubble. Everything else was outside—all my sickness, all the pain and fear. And inside it was warm—just me and Jesus.” He smiled at her. “I never will forget that. I guess that’s how I get most of my theology—by just going through things.” He hesitated, then said, “I think God’s testing us, Rena. There may be harder things than this coming up, and He wants to know if we’ll trust Him. So don’t look at those waves. Look to Jesus.”

Rena did not move. “You’re a comfort, Travis,” she whispered.

“Go below now and get dried out.”

Travis watched as she moved away, feeling a moment of pity for her.
She’s never had a tough time before, and she’ll have a
lot more if we get through this.
He looked up at the sky and lifted one hand while holding on to the railing with the other. “God, I’m just asking you to save our lives. That’s all. We have work to do for you, and I believe you’re going to get us all out of this. Save every man of us and every woman too!”