Ship of Dreams (21 page)

Again he reflected on the change she had wrought in his outlook. For the first time in his life, he cared more for another person than he did for himself or for his family name. And for the first time, he realized that this was how life—and love—were supposed to be.

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Another beautiful day dawned, and at nine o'clock the
Central America
steamed out of the Havana harbor to resume its journey to New York. Della watched the colorful city recede with some regret, wondering if she'd ever again be as happy as she'd been last night.

In less than a week they would reach New York—perhaps in as few as five days, if the weather continued as fine as it had been. Once there, everything would change—and not, she feared, for the better.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Kent, coming up just then to stand by her side at the rail.

"Oh, I was just thinking over the past week and realizing what a lucky woman I am." She turned to give him a smile and a kiss. "If you had been any other sort of man, I might have spent the past two weeks and more in irons, and now be on my way back to San Francisco to stand trial."

Kent glanced around in alarm, but relaxed when he saw no one was within earshot. "I doubt they even have irons on these luxury ships," he said with a grin. "But if you want to cast me as heroic rescuer, I won't quibble."

"Good. Because I do." The light breeze ruffled their hair, and Della thought Kent looked handsomer than ever. For an instant, however, she had another foreboding that their days together were numbered. On impulse, she kissed him again, even though they stood in full view on the deck.

Though he looked a bit startled, he was quick to respond. "After the big breakfast we just had, I'm in the mood for a nap," he said then, his golden eyes twinkling. "How about you?"

"Absolutely," she agreed, and they returned to their cabin for some more precious time alone.

In spite of the lovely weather, they spent most of the day closeted away from the others. Della had no illusions about why their lovemaking had taken on such urgency. Though he didn't say so, clearly Kent felt as uncertain of their future as she did. For now, however, that only heightened their passion and made for a pleasurable, if tiring, day.

They agreed to a turn on the deck before dinner, which they were to take at the captain's table, along with the Eastons and a few other passengers. The moment they stepped out of the stairway, Della noticed the breeze.

"Oh, that feels lovely! I can't say I regret how we've spent the day—" she gave Kent's arm a squeeze—"but it certainly is cool and comfortable out here."

"Almost makes me wish we could open a window in our room to freshen the air," he agreed.

She laughed. "Almost. But we'd want to close it in a hurry if saltwater accompanied the breeze, I think."

Most of the other passengers were also on deck, enjoying the unaccustomed breeze after so many days in the tropical heat. The sunset was spectacular, turning both sky and sea crimson. Della vaguely recalled that this was supposed to be a weather omen of some sort, and asked Kent about it.

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight," he quoted with a smile.
 
"Though that may only apply to more northern climes, for all I know."

"And what is that?" she asked then, pointing to what appeared to be a plume of smoke far behind them. "Another ship? Surely we're too far from Havana to see anything ashore."

One of the stewards, overhearing, answered her. "That'd be the
Empire City
, ma'am. She was to leave port an hour after we did."

Della recalled seeing the other steamer anchored near them in the Havana harbor, nearly as large and fine as the
Central America
. It seemed companionable, somehow, to see the smoke from its stacks. All too soon, the dinner bell rang, summoning them below.

Addie Easton beckoned, reminding them that they were invited to Captain Herndon's table. He rose as they and the Eastons approached. Privately Della thought, as she had yesterday, that he looked more like a merchant than a sailor, but then he greeted them in his booming voice, developed, no doubt, from years of shouting commands at sea.

"Welcome, welcome! I hope you're enjoying your stay aboard my ship thus far?" He gave Della a ghost of a wink.

"Very much so," she replied with an answering twinkle, and the others agreed. She and Addie were introduced by their husbands, and the captain showed that he possessed social as well as nautical skills by pretending he had never met Della before while paying the ladies outrageous compliments as they were all seated.

He then turned to the other two men at the table. "Mr. Sharpe, I believe you said you were acquainted with both the Eastons and Bradfords, but I'd like to make you all known to Judge Alonzo Monson, an acquaintance who has taken ship with me on more than one previous occasion."

Judge Alonzo Monson. The man with the walking stick.

Della felt that her smile must be frozen on her face. She'd actually heard of Judge Monson, of the Sacramento courts, but hadn't realized this was he. He was known as both a notorious gambler and a rigid legalist—and he'd been speaking with the police, the police seeking
her
, just before the
Sonora
sailed! Did he know? Would he denounce her now, in front of everyone?

Her fears were partially allayed by his first words. "Aye, I've made this voyage a few times now, but this is likely to be my last for some time. I've finally resigned my post in Sacramento and plan to put down roots where I began, in New York."

His glance when he acknowledged her held no special portent—nothing that distinguished it from his bow to Addie, in fact. Della began to breathe again, only now realizing that she'd stopped.

"
If
we reach New York," Ansel Easton said then, distracting her from her own worries. "What think you, Captain Herndon, of commanding a ship with a changed name? Many ships have sunk after being rechristened, or so I've heard."

"Doesn't worry me in the least," replied the captain. "More ships have gone down with their original names than without, after all."

Conversation then turned to famous shipwrecks, with Mr. Sharpe relating a recent one where the captain and crew had saved themselves at the expense of their passengers. Captain Herndon roundly abused such cowardice as unworthy of a seaman.

"I'll never survive my ship," he declared. "If she goes down, I go under her keel." Then, noticing the concerned expressions of the ladies, he added, "But let us talk of something more cheerful."

Both Judge Monson and Captain Herndon had a knack for storytelling, and regaled the others with tales of their colorful careers throughout the meal. The captain's tales of the Amazon jungle, where he had led an exploratory expedition some years earlier, were particularly fascinating—and amusing. Della, almost giddy with relief from the nagging worry that had plagued her for three weeks, enjoyed herself immensely.

As the group lingered over claret after dinner, the wind became audible at times. Addie expressed some concern, no doubt recalling the earlier conversation about shipwrecks, but Judge Monson and Mr. Sharpe both laughed at her fears.

"I've run into one storm or another every time I've come back East," Monson advised her. "September is rife with them here in the West Indies. But even should this develop into yet another, we'll be in no danger. The
Central America
is a stout ship—one of the best afloat."

The other men agreed. Della hadn't been as worried as Addie, but hearing Monson, Herndon and Sharpe speak so casually of hurricanes and cyclones both reassured and excited her. She didn't actually hope to run into one, however sound their vessel, but rather envied them their experiences.

An hour or so later, Captain Herndon excused himself to make his rounds, promising to return for a few hands of whist with Monson, Sharpe and whoever they could find for a fourth. The two couples took this as their cue and bade their table mates good night. Heading toward their cabins, they were all in good spirits.

"What an interesting life Captain Herndon has led," Addie commented. "I thought I should die laughing at his story about the monkey!"

The others chuckled in agreement. "Thank you for arranging our invitation," Della said to Addie with perfect sincerity, for now she could enjoy the rest of the voyage that much more thoroughly, all fear for her safety removed. "I had a wonderful time."

"As did I," Kent added. "A good omen for the remaining days of the voyage, I should think."

"Let's hope so," said Ansel. "With luck, the wind will abate by morning and we can pass these last few days as pleasantly as the ones preceding. Good night!"

But once inside their cabin, the wind sounded louder than ever to Della. "Do you think this might really be one of those West Indian storms brewing?"

Kent gave her a quick hug before beginning to strip off his jacket. "I doubt it. But even if it is, you heard what the others said. This ship has weathered them before, and certainly can do so again. The most we need worry about is a day or two of seasickness—and I'm confident we can avoid even that."

Though a hurricane might be exciting, the prospect of seasickness held no charm for Della whatsoever. Once they were in bed, however, she could not quite ignore the moaning of the wind, nor the slight rocking of the ship as the sea rose. Not, at least, until Kent pulled her to him, distracting her most effectively for the next half hour.

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CHAPTER 14

But in a minute she 'gan stir,

With a short uneasy motion—

Backwards and forwards half her length

With a short uneasy motion.

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Kent was awakened by an unaccustomed vertical motion of the ship the next morning. A glance at the porthole, combined with the evidence of his ears, showed that the wind had increased rather than decreased overnight. Della still slept, so he tried to rise without waking her—unsuccessfully.

"Mmm. What ... ? Goodness!" She sat up, looking adorably tousled and confused. "This
is
turning into a storm, isn't it?" Shaking her head to clear the last vestiges of sleep, she jumped up to press her face to the porthole.

"I'm certain it will blow itself out in a few more hours." Kent tried to speak reassuringly, though he knew no more about storms at sea than she did. "There's no real cause for concern."

She turned back to him, and he saw that her expression was more eager than worried. "No, I'm sure there's not, but how exciting! Think of the stories we'll have to tell later. I'd begun to fear that the entire voyage would be uneventful."

He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He should have known Della would require no soothing. "Uneventful? I'm wounded."

Now she laughed at him. "Oh, you know what I mean. Our days—and nights—together have been the most momentous of my life, but those are scarcely stories with which we'll regale our grandchildren. A hurricane at sea, however—!"

"I hope it won't come to that," he said quickly. However brave a front she put on, she must be worried underneath. "Come, let's see what the more experienced voyagers have to say about the situation."

Though slightly hampered by the motion of the ship, which once or twice lurched unexpectedly, they managed to dress quickly and ventured out into the saloon. It was only sparsely populated, most of their fellow passengers having apparently elected to remain in their cabins.

Nevertheless, breakfast was served right on time by the indefatigable "Aunt" Lucy, and Kent was relieved to find he still had an appetite. His journey west had involved a few brief rain showers, but no pitching to compare with what they experienced now, so he hadn't been sure how his stomach might respond.

"We'd better eat while we can," Della commented, echoing his own thoughts. "If this storm lasts much longer, or worsens, the cook may decide against preparing another meal for a while." It appeared that she was not particularly prone to seasickness either.

As they finished eating, a few more passengers ventured out of their cabins, though several looked rather peaked.

"Ansel assures me that I'll feel much more the thing if I get some fresh air," Addie Easton said doubtfully as she joined them. "I confess I don't dare eat much beyond a biscuit and some coffee, however."

Della spoke soothingly to her, and while the two women were thus engaged, Kent took the opportunity to draw Ansel Easton and Billy Birch aside. "Do you think there's any danger?"

Though Easton's eyes reflected some concern, the other man shook his head. "Not yet, I shouldn't think." He spoke as quietly as Kent had ever heard him. "Once we've eaten, we can go up and take a look at the sea, but I've heard stories of far worse storms that did not the least bit of damage to a ship."