Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (38 page)

Clay couldn't help his smile. “Someone lock you in the cellar?”

To his surprise, she nodded. “No light, no air. All in the name of keeping me safe. And all that little dark space did was make me a girl afraid of her own shadow.”

Frank truly had done her a disservice. Yet how could Clay blame his brother? He had the same feelings, to hold her close, to keep her safe.

“It's hard to imagine you afraid,” he told her, “even back then. You ruled society.”

“Our mothers ruled society,” Allie corrected him. “I was a tool to that end. The Lord showed me a better way, and He has confirmed it a dozen times over. I won't go back to it, Clay, not for you, not for anyone.”

Her conviction vibrated in her voice. How could he not applaud her? Yet he doubted many people would agree or even understand. He'd run away from such pressures, and still he struggled to understand how he fit in her new view of the world.

For if he couldn't protect her and Gillian, what place did he have at her side? Protection was the only thing he had to offer her.

He could not forget their exchange over the next few days as the
Continental
exited the straits and steamed north. The coastline dwindled to a smudge on the starboard horizon. Each day dawned bright and clear. He packed away his suit to be used on Sundays and special occasions and kept his skin coat for the cool evenings. He still opened doors and pulled out chairs for Allie and the other women, but she always cast him a look as if questioning his motives.

He couldn't blame her. He questioned his own motives. Protecting her for Frank's sake had seemed so noble. Courting her had seemed so perfect. But was he truly the right man for Allie, the man she needed by her side as she flew?

He still wasn't sure of his answer by the time Sunday came around again. They had finished listening to one of Mercer's services, where the fellow read a sermon from a book, and gone out on deck to enjoy the sun. Clay found it a lot easier to praise his Master surrounded by the wonders of creation than holed up in the upper salon.

The ocean stretched azure in all directions, rising to meet the blue of the sky. The only clouds were the sails of other ships in the distance, heading north, as well. The air smelled fresh and clean. Allie looked a part of the scene in her blue gown with its white trim. He reached for her hand and was pleased when she didn't pull away. With Gillian on his hip in her rainbow-hued gown, they stood along the railing in companionable silence.

Thank You, Lord, for this moment and all You've done for me.

“What's that ship?” Gillian asked, pointing.

It seemed larger than the others, and the smoke puffing up between the masts proclaimed it a steamer.

“I hope it's a man-o'-war,” Maddie said as she joined them at the railing with a swish of her russet skirts. She grinned at Allie. “Full of handsome officers with coin to spare to take a lady about town.”

“As our next stop is a decent-size town,” Clay told her with a smile, “you just might get your wish.”

Others ventured over, pointing and questioning.

“It's a race,” one of the men declared. “She means to beat us to port.”

“Our
Continental
will see her sunk first,” someone else predicted with a laugh.

Clay couldn't be so sure. There was something odd about the ship, the way it tacked as if moving to cut the
Continental
off from shore. He could see several of the officers above them on the hurricane deck, eyes trained on the horizon.

The passengers stepped aside to allow Captain Windsor room at the railing. He held his spyglass to his eye, and Clay had a mind to ask him to share, when Catherine moved up beside them.

“Here,” she said, pulling off a set of mother-of-pearl-inlaid opera glasses from where they hung on the bodice of her brown dress and handing them to Clay. “See what you make of our rival.”

Though he felt a little silly using the ladylike glasses, Clay raised them to his eyes, the golden chain tickling his wrist as it fell. What he saw made his blood run cold.

“It's a man-o'-war, all right,” he said, lowering the glasses in time to see Maddie's triumphant smile. “But I don't think it's one of ours.”

“Spanish,” Captain Windsor agreed, and Maddie's smile faded. “They're in a spat with Chile. Nearly every port is under blockade. Thankfully, Lota is not.”

“What does he mean, Clay?” Allie murmured, stepping closer.

“It means we're caught in the middle,” Clay replied. He couldn't stop himself from putting an arm about her waist. As if she realized the significance of the gesture meant to protect her, her eyes widened.

Captain Windsor snapped his spyglass shut and turned to call up to his burley first officer. “Full steam, Mr. Weinhardt, and all hands on deck. I want to beat her to the port before she attempts to board us. I will not surrender my ship or its cargo to His Spanish Majesty.”

Chapter Fifteen

A
llie clung to Clay as the deck burst into action. Sailors ran for their posts; ladies dashed to the railing or hurried to their staterooms as if to hide. She met Maddie's gaze over Gillian's head and knew that for once her friend had no idea what to do.

Clay did. He handed the opera glasses to Gillian and lifted her higher in his arms. “Keep your eyes on that ship, Captain Howard. Maddie and Catherine, watch for the port ahead. Call out every few minutes.”

“Aye,” Maddie agreed, turning her face toward the bow. With a nod, Catherine followed her.

“What would you have me do?” Allie asked.

Clay met her gaze, and she saw concern under the ready smile. “You have the most important job, Allie. Pray.”

Pray? But praying seemed so small. Didn't he have more faith in her abilities than that? She wanted to work, to fight. Spain bore America no love; she'd seen reports in the newspapers of missionaries captured, civilians imprisoned. What would she do if they separated her from Gillian?

Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

The remembered verse humbled her. Clay was right. Prayer was how she'd made it through the last few months. Prayer would keep them safe now.

Allie took a deep breath and prayed, eyes closed and hands clasped. She prayed for strength for the crew and passengers, for good fortune to reach safe harbor. She prayed for wisdom for the captain and those who helped him. And she prayed for protection over those she loved: Gillian, Maddie, Catherine.

And Clay.

Her eyes popped open, and she stared at the man beside her. He was all alert, eyes intent on the horizon, arms bracing Gillian. As her late husband's brother, he warranted her solicitous concern. But the emotion rising up inside her was far more than that.

Lord, please. I can't fall in love with him again. The woman I was was never enough for him. The woman you've made me will never conform to his vision of a wife.

Clay must have noticed her gaze on him, for he turned his head. His smile hitched up, and that dimple winked at her from his cheek. She wanted to hold that look to her heart.

“He's still there,” Gillian reported.

Immediately, his gaze returned to their enemy. “She, Captain Howard,” he told Gillian. “Ships are always ladies, though not necessarily well-behaved ones like you.”

Gillian lowered the glasses with a frown. “Why?”

“The headland is in sight!” Catherine called back from the bow.

Allie sucked in a breath and reached to remove the glasses from around Gillian's neck. “Let Mama have a look.”

She wasn't sure what she'd see, perhaps faces grinning in evil delight at their predicament. But even through the glasses, the Spanish ship seemed far away. Surely the
Continental
could beat her to port.
Please, Lord, help us!

“Report,” Clay ordered her.

Allie squinted through the glasses, trying to make out anything that might be meaningful. “She's poured on all sail as well as her steam. I don't see any signal flags hailing us. Wait.” She focused on movement at the front of the ship. “There's a puff of smoke coming from the bow. And another.” She lowered the glasses and frowned at Clay. “Does she have more than one engine?”

Clay shifted Gillian closer. “No. Those are some of her guns. She's warning us to stop.”

But the
Continental
didn't stop. Clay and Allie no longer needed the opera glasses. They could see the ship swooping toward them, the proud colors of Spain flying from the highest mast. Maddie and Catherine took turns calling out progress: when they sighted the mouth of the harbor, when they could see the village inside. Allie felt herself tensing each time a cry was raised. Her fingers gripped the wooden railing, clinging to it as she clung to hope. Clay's hand came down on hers, firm and warm.

She drew in a breath. “I'm all right, Clay. We will win.”

His smile said he believed her.

Always before, Captain Windsor had ordered the ship to slow as they entered port. This time, the
Continental
flew across the water, the land rushing toward them. Allie heard the engine ratchet back only as they neared moorage beside the dock.

Thank You, Lord!

Clay removed his hand from hers to set Gillian down on the deck. Allie released the railing and was surprised to see it impressed across her palms.

“We did it,” she said.

Clay's eyes didn't light. Instead, his gaze was fixed at the bow. Turning, Allie saw Maddie and Catherine hurrying back toward them.

“You should see the welcoming party,” Maddie cried as she reached their sides. “They came a-running from every building in town, so they did, as if we'd scored a great victory.”

Allie could only feel relief at their escape. She handed the glasses to Catherine. “You can stow these now, midshipman.”

Catherine's blue eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Aye, aye, ma'am.” She curtsied to Gillian. “With your kind permission, of course, Captain Howard.”

But Gillian was frowning. “The boat is still rumbling.” She stomped her little black boot on the deck as if to prove it.

Allie frowned, as well. Now that she concentrated, she could hear the low throb of the steam engine.

“Sure'n our good captain is prepared to make a quick escape if need be,” Maddie guessed, glancing between her friends.

Catherine picked up her skirts. “I intend to find out.” She marched down the deck for the wheelhouse.

Clay laid his hand on Allie's shoulder. “We'll be fine, Allie. I could feel your prayers. We arrived here safe because of them.”

Oh, if only that were true. She had prayed with all her might, but the Lord could surely only see her prayers as feeble, hindered by fears that refused to leave her even now. She pulled down on the white cuffs of her dress.
I lifted my petitions to You, Lord. Help me let go of these concerns, about the Spaniards, about the future, about Clay. Help me do Your will, whatever it is
.

“Her ladyship isn't pleased,” Maddie murmured, and Allie saw Catherine hurrying back toward them.

“We're in the wrong port!” she proclaimed, eyes snapping fire over such behavior. “We passed Lota completely and docked at Coronel instead!”

Clay chuckled. “Good old Yankee ingenuity.”

“This is no laughing matter,” she scolded him. “Lota is apparently a free port. Coronel is under blockade. That's why everyone came running to meet us. They haven't seen a merchant ship in months!”

Maddie glanced around at the others. “What are we to do? Will they be letting us stay in a blockaded port?”

“Not if we hope to see Seattle,” Clay said grimly. “Captain Windsor has no choice but to make for open sea once more, try to backtrack to Lota.”

“Can't we simply go on?” Allie protested. “Pick up supplies at a port farther north?”

“The ports nearest here don't have the coal we need,” Clay answered. “If we don't refuel at Lota, we'll soon be reduced to sail alone, and that could slow us down sufficiently that we'd be late arriving in San Francisco.”

Catherine shook her head. “Reaching San Francisco a week or so behind schedule seems preferable to fighting off the Spanish navy.”

Clay met her gaze. “We'd reach San Francisco a week after our supplies of food and water run out. I don't know about you, Catherine, but I'd prefer not to live on fish and salt water for a week.”

Catherine swallowed as if she felt the same way.

Allie raised her head. Already, she could feel the ship moving, the bow turning. “The captain's going to chance it,” she said. “What can we do to help him?”

Clay reached out and pulled the opera glasses off Catherine's neck. “Ladies, I'd advise you to barricade yourselves in your staterooms, but I doubt you'll listen.”

“See how well you know us, Mr. Howard,” Allie said. “We are going nowhere until we're safely in Lota.”

They lined the railing, hands on the wood and gazes out to sea, as if they could will the
Continental
to the new port. She knew many more prayers joined hers this time.

The harbor of Coronel was shaped like a heart, with two bowls near shore divided by a low headland and the tip pointing out into deeper waters. As the
Continental
steamed toward the opening, the Spanish man-o'-war came to rest, blocking her way.

Clay was once again gazing through the glasses. “Allie, ladies,” he said in his deep rumble, “take Gillian to the lower salon and get under the table.

Allie blinked at the odd advice. “What?”

“May I?” Catherine said, reaching for her glasses, and Clay reluctantly surrendered them to her. She took one look, and the glasses fell from her fingers to thud against her chest on their golden chain.

“She's opened every porthole,” Catherine said, blanching as she stared wide-eyed at Allie. “She means to fire on us!”

As if to agree, something whizzed past the bow and sent up a spray as it hit the water. Cries rang out all around.

Fear stabbed at her, made the day turn a brilliant white. Allie gripped Clay's hand. “Come with us.”

He shook his head even as he retrieved Catherine's glasses with his free hand. “Captain Windsor will need all men to repel boarders. Barricade the stairs. Protect Gillian.”

“Who's going to protect you?” Allie protested.

A whistle split the air, high and keening, and she heard the boom that had caused it. Something flew past to starboard, exploding as it hit the water. The
Continental
shook.

“Save us, Lord!” Maddie cried, clasping her hands as screams pierced the air. Nearby, one of the other women crumpled in a faint.

Catherine raised her head. “I'll see to her. Allegra, lead the rest to safety.”

Catherine's brisk manner pierced the rising panic that had threatened Allie. She nodded agreement, and Catherine hurried toward the fallen passenger. Gillian's face was white, her eyes like saucers in her round face. Allie picked her up and gave her a fierce hug.

“It will be all right, darling,” she promised. “Go with Maddie now. I'll be right behind you.”

Maddie opened her arms and took the little girl from Allie. She knew what she had to do, what Catherine expected of her, what she expected of herself. But if she was going to die this day or end up in a Spanish prison, there was something she had to do first.

She turned to Clay, tugged on his arm to take his attention from the enemy ship. His gaze met hers, and she saw his concern.

“Thank you,” she said, “for listening to me and protecting Gillian. Please come back to us safe.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

* * *

Clay stood frozen as Allie's lips touched him. He caught the scent of the lavender she must use to wash her hair. More, he could feel her trembling against him, knew an answering tremor inside him. Though he realized he had to send her to safety, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“Go below! Everyone!”

At the purser's cry, Clay released Allie. She stared at him as if the kiss had shaken her more than cannon fire.

He knew how she felt.

The purser hurried up to them. “Everyone belowdecks. Captain's orders.”

Clay put an arm about Allie's waist. “Do we expect boarders, Mr. Debro?”

The young officer's face was white. “I fear so, Mr. Howard. See to your ladies.”

It was a testimony to the state of Allie's mind that she did not protest as he led her down to the lower salon.

The women were gathered in tight groups, some crying, others praying with eyes closed and hands clasped. Catherine had managed to revive the woman who had fainted and get her belowdecks. Now the nurse moved from one group to another, offering smelling salts, checking pulses. Maddie and Gillian stood by the great table, and the little girl ran to Allie the moment their gazes met.

Allie picked her up and cuddled her close. “I'm here, Gillian. You don't have to be afraid.”

Clay wished he believed that. From what he knew about relations between America and Spain, there was every reason for real concern should the Spanish capture the ship.

Maddie must have thought the same, for she joined them, rubbing the sleeve of her russet gown. “Are they coming for us, then? Will they be carrying us off to Spain and locking us up?”

Gillian's lower lip trembled, and Allie sucked in a breath and gathered her closer.

“Not while I live,” Clay vowed. He knew how much Allie hated his protection, but he couldn't help himself. He waited for her to rebuke him, but she merely moved closer, her shoulder fitting so easily under his. He slipped his arm about her waist again.

Boots thundered above, and every gaze turned to the door leading up to the deck. Clay could feel Allie holding her breath. This was madness! He couldn't sit here, do nothing, while those he loved were in peril.

He set Allie back from him. “Wait here. I'll find out what's happening.”

Her eyes were huge, like pansies in the snow of her face. He gave her a smile that he hoped would encourage her and turned to head for the door. One of the other women caught his leg as he passed.

“Don't go, Mr. Howard,” she said with a sob. “What will we do without your protection?”

“Protect ourselves,” Allie proclaimed, right behind him.

Clay whirled. “What are you doing?”

She ignored him to raise her voice and command the women. “Listen to me. Mr. Howard and I will determine the state of affairs on the deck. As soon as we leave, turn the table on its side and barricade the main stairway. See if you can find something to block the other doors, as well. Ms. O'Rourke has a pistol, and Ms. Stanway can organize a guard.”

Around the room, women raised their heads. Some looked aghast at her suggestions. Others nodded and began gathering themselves to act.