By The Sea, Book Three: Laura (18 page)

The vote was split. Laura made both, despite
the difficulty of cooking below, while the boys played "go fish."
Colin had taken himself forward to check the hold, perhaps to
ensure that the mood in the main saloon stayed relaxed. Laura did
notice the difference: without him there it was more like the old
days, when the atmosphere was one of innocent pleasure.

Without him there, her heart seemed to roll
to a stop, like a car that had run out of gas.

She had expected the smell of fresh-brewed
coffee and hot pastry to bring Colin running. When it did not, she
said to Neil, "Would you see what Colin is up to, honey?"

"I'd rather not," her son answered tersely.
"Can't Billy go?"

For days now Neil had been acting betrayed.
Up until that moment Laura had been feeling guilty about it, but
just then it annoyed her. Her son was like a little wet blanket,
throwing a damp chill over the toasty camaraderie in the galley.
"Never mind, then," she said with some asperity. "Billy, would
you?"

Billy had just won the last round at cards.
"You owe me twenty-three dollars, squirt," he said, pulling a lock
of Neil's blond hair. He jumped up, leaned his head in the
passageway, bawled out, "Colin! Dessert's on!" and sat back down at
the saloon table. "Now pay up or walk the plank," he demanded
gravely.

Laura had spread out a damp towel on the
table top to keep the plates from sliding and had just laid out the
honey cakes when Colin appeared, looking shaken. At the same
moment, a glimmer of hazy sun fell through the skylight, throwing
his shadow on the painted bulkhead behind him. For an instant she
stared at him, suddenly very upset, not understanding why. Then it
occurred to her.

"My God! The sun! I can take a sight!" She
whirled and dove for the mahogany box in which she kept her
sextant, but Colin intercepted her.

"Forget the sun," he said in a low, urgent
voice that no one could hear, "and come with me."

Her heart plunged; the boat must be sinking.
He had discovered a leak and they were going down. "Yes, of
course," she whispered.

"Something wrong?" asked Billy through a
mouthful of honey cake.

"Nothing at all. Don't let the cakes get
cold," said Colin as he ducked into the passageway.

Laura fell in behind him, and as soon as
they were out of earshot she said, "For God's sake—tell me what's
wrong!"

"I'd rather show you," he said, his voice
taut.

He led her by flashlight to the port side of
the cargo hold where they had stowed the two bathtubs: absurdly
difficult to secure, the source of many jokes by Stubby back in New
London and a round oath or two by Colin. In the flashlight's beam
she saw that one of the sacks of cement that they had stowed in the
tubs was propped up vertically. The top seam was ripped open;
powdered cement was scattered everywhere, mixing with salt water
from leaks in the canvas hatch cover into a gloppy mess.

"I assume that the bathtubs were meant as a
comical diversion for the customs officer," Colin said. "So that he
wouldn't look too closely at the cement."

"What's wrong with the cement? It isn't
drugs or opium or anything, is it?" she asked, alarmed. That would
certainly explain the three-thousand-dollar delivery fee. That
would certainly explain why Mr. Angelina wanted her to take the
cargo directly to Pineapple Cay, before they cleared customs.

"Opium! No, child. This is not what opium
looks like. Besides, it's headed the wrong way. No, this is cement,
all right. But have a look at what's
in
the cement." He
reached into the opened sack and pulled out a small, black,
marble-like ball, blew the dust off it, and held it out to her.

Puzzled, she took it from him. In the beam
of his flashlight she saw a thin seam around the center of the
globe. "Twist it open," he said. "Carefully!"

She did as she was told, bracing herself
against one of the support columns in the hold, unscrewing the lid
with the utmost care and peering inside. Immediately her mind shut
down. "Glass?" she asked stupidly. "Bits of red and white
glass?"

"Bits of rubies and diamonds," he said
wryly.

"My God. My God. My God!"

"Never one to mince words, are you?"

"What are they
doing
there?"

"Who is Angelina fronting for?"

"I don't know. Mr. Angelina signed all the
papers."

"I expect his client, whoever he is, wants
to get some of his money out of the country without discussing it
first with the IRS."

"But why with us? Why not with a crook or a
fence or whoever does that sort of thing?"

"You undoubtedly came cheaper. And you
have—have I mentioned this?—an unusually honest face. Which is why
our crew looks at us suspiciously whenever they see us
together."

Another thought occurred to her. "How do you
know I'm not in on—whatever it is."

He took the two halves of the globe from her
and screwed them carefully together. "Because you have an unusually
honest face."

Another thought occurred to her. "Are there
more?"

He gave her a rather crooked smile and said,
"I don't think so. Part of the top of this sack was sewn up with
different string; that's why I went probing in the first place. The
others look untouched." He plunged the marble globe back into the
cement and laid the sack against the slope of the claw-footed
tub.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her eyes as
dark and round as the marble ball.

His answer was a Gallic shrug. "Beats the
hell out of me."

They returned to the main saloon and Laura
poured coffee with shaking hands for them both. This was a
complication she had neither sought nor needed. Smuggled gems! The
only thing she'd ever smuggled was a few cases of Scotch, like
everyone else in America.

"Find that rat finally?" asked Stubby.

"No ... no, he was too fast for us, I'm
afraid," she answered, seizing on the explanation.

"Geez. He's too big to be that fast. But I
suppose he must be. He gave me a hell of a start when he ran across
my berth the other day, I can tell you," Stubby confessed. "I don't
think much of going eyeball to eyeball with a rodent that
size."

"You don't have to keep blabbing on about
him!" Neil said. He hated rats.

Just then the
Virginia,
slipping
sideways a bit, allowed a huge roller to slam into her port bow,
knocking her off course and sending her crew flying. Two of the
coffee mugs crashed to the floor, Colin was hurtled across the
cabin, and Laura barely missed being flung into the still-hot wood
stove.

"Jiminy, we're in for it now," said Billy,
jumping up to look out a porthole. "It's got blacker out all of a
sudden."

"Is it a hurricane, Mama?" asked Neil in a
very small voice. He was asking his mother, but he was looking at
Colin. Everyone, including Laura, was looking at Colin.

But it was Laura who said brusquely, "Of
course not, silly. Just some bad weather. If it were a
hurricane—"

"If it were a hurricane, mate, you'd know it
without asking," said Colin, and everyone, including Laura,
breathed a sigh of relief.

Still, it was not reassuring to see Colin
walk over to the barometer and tap it. "Still falling. Well, my
friends, I don't know about you, but I could do with a little nap.
Don't mind me. Just go right on with your card-playing." He climbed
over the saloon seat and into the pilot berth, where he stretched
out fully clothed, obviously staying ready for action.

Everyone took it as a sign that the weather
was going to worsen before it got better. Depressed, the little
group began to disperse, each to his own berth to rest while there
was time.

Laura pumped salt water into the sink to
wash down the baking pans. She had become very quiet, overwhelmed
by the feeling that she had stepped out of the bounds of ordinary
prudence, somehow taking everyone with her. After the others left,
she smiled forlornly at Colin and said, "Are you sure you want to
be left alone with an adulterous smuggler who's despised by her own
flesh and blood?"

He was lying on his back, his arms folded
behind his head, watching her work at the galley counter. "I think
I can stand it," he said softly. "Come here to me."

She did, taking her place at the seat just
below his berth. "I don't know what to worry about first," she
confessed. "The storm; the gems; you and me and everyone ..."

He put a finger to her lips. "You know you
can't do anything about the weather. The boat's battened down; we
have to ride it out. The gems? Maybe we'll keep a couple as a kind
of finder's fee; we ought to think about it. Or we can sew the bag
back up and mind our own business. As for you and me—I know exactly
what to do about us, only we have to wait until everyone is asleep.
I love you, Laura." He hesitated, then said, "You never say you
love me."

"I never think of it," she answered slowly,
not looking at him. "Any more than I consider breathing."

****

Laura and Colin had agreed between them to
keep a watch and let the crew sleep. Colin was to have awakened her
in two hours. Of course he did not, and when she awoke it was dark.
The wind was still howling through the rigging, lashing halyards
and pennants against the masts with a viciousness that offended
her. Sam had always told her not to "take it personal," and here
she was, doing just that.

What have I done?
she demanded of the
powers that be.
Is it so bad that we deserve this?

When Laura opened her cabin door to the
saloon, there was Colin: sitting in the lee settee, his legs pulled
up and braced in front of him, smoking his pipe filled with Sam's
tobacco. The kerosene lamp directly above his head threw him into
dim, golden relief against the spartan wood furnishings of the
saloon, and Laura found herself enchanted, all over again, by
him.

"Hello," she said, happy that he was there.
"Is everyone still down?"

"I think so. Billy came aft a while ago to
see if there was anything he could do, but there wasn't." He held
out his hand to her.

She sat next to him and he put his pipe away
and curled his arms around her, wrapping her in his warmth.
"Thanks," she said. "For letting me sleep it off. Tired?"

"Average amount." He nuzzled her
sleep-tumbled hair, breathing her in. "I'm impressed with your
vessel. She's riding this out beautifully."

"Hmmn. Were there any ships?"

"I might have seen a running light off to
port once; hard to say."

She closed her eyes and sighed, moved by the
pleasure he was giving her as he dropped light kisses on the curve
of her neck. "Who'd be out on a night like this?"

"Lovers and other insane persons, I
imagine," he answered, his voice a little huskier. "Maybe
smugglers."

"That explains us, then; we're all three."
They were quiet a moment, and then she said, "It doesn't seem any
worse out."

"Nope."

"But it doesn't seem any better."

"Just a typical nor'easter." A wave clubbed
the
Virginia
almost as he said it, sending the schooner
reeling from the blow, making her shudder and shake off the sea
before she climbed doggedly back up into the wind again.

Laura turned half around to face her lover.
"God—listen to it.
Feel
it, Colin. Doesn't anything faze
you? The boat is being cruelly punished and I don't know where we
are and I'm scared, I really am, and all you say is: 'typical.'"
She shuddered, much as her ship had done, to throw off the
oppression of fear.

He kissed her forehead. "It's my way of
whistling past the haunted house, darling. I've been sitting here,
waiting, practically
willing
you to wake up and open your
cabin door, because I wanted to hold you, and I wanted you to hold
me." He added with a self-conscious smile, "Call it affirmation in
the face of chaos."

"That does sound better than 'fear,'" she
agreed. She kissed him, drawing comfort from him as she always did,
marveling at how much in sympathy they were. More and more she felt
that they were two parts of one whole. Without him she could no
longer function, any more than a boat could without a rudder, a
typewriter without keys.

Her sigh was heavy. "What are we going to
do, Colin?" she asked in a softer and somehow more hopeless
voice.

He understood the real meaning of her
question. "You have to give him back the
Virginia,
and then
leave him," he said flatly.

It was a pail of cold water on her emotions.
She gasped and said, "We've been married nine years."

"And I've loved you nine lifetimes!" he shot
back, suddenly fierce. "Listen to me, Laura. We are
not
two
ships passing in the night. Wherever we go, whatever we do, it's
going to be together. We'll steal if we have to, beg if we must,
but we
will
be together." He kissed her again and again,
whispering her name, battering her resolve with it, destroying
everything in her that was not desire. "Come to bed with me," he
urged, his voice blurred with love. "Let me love you …."

He pulled her to her feet and together they
made their way to Laura's cabin, half-hurled there by the boat's
periodically violent motion. It was an absurd time to make love, at
the height of the storm, and yet it was the best time. They needed
to prove, at least to one another, that they were not willing to
stand meekly waiting, hats in hand, for the gods to permit them to
continue on their way.

****

Neil awoke from an awful dream: something
was on top of him, dark and formless and with scary, beady eyes,
and he thought it might be Stubby's rat. He cried out, or thought
he did, and wet his pants—or thought he did; when he felt around
his horsehair mattress he realized the whole thing was soaking wet.
The back of his shirt was wet, and his trousers, and his hair.
Disgusted, he sat bolt upright, bracing himself with his hand on
the inside of the hull. The planking was soaked: a sheet of salt
water ran freely over his hand and trickled down his arm, and he
realized that the leak—the stupid, stupid leak—was back.