Ship of Dreams (31 page)

He regarded her with a sad smile. "Hope is a valuable commodity, Mrs. Bradford. I'm sorry to see that you've lost yours."

A brief pain lanced through the numbness of her heart, but she quickly closed it off again. "I still have what I began with," she said, more to herself than to him. "It will have to be enough."

Three days later, they awoke to see a lighthouse in the distance. The captain informed them that they would reach Norfolk, Virginia that day, if they could find enough breeze to spread a sail. After all of those endless days of wind and storm, the air was now breathless and the sea nearly flat.

Even as he spoke, one of the sailors spotted smoke astern, quickly moving nearer. It proved to be a steam tugboat. Captain Burt hailed her, requesting a tow into the Norfolk harbor. Word soon came back that the tug captain would comply—for a sum of five hundred dollars.

"That villain!" Captain Burt exclaimed. "We can't possibly pay that!"

But Della touched his sleeve. "Let me ask among the passengers. We may be able to collect that much between us."

The captain muttered angrily at the very idea, but Della knew the others were as sick of the sea as she was, and would be only too glad to pay whatever they had to shorten what remained of their ordeal. Nor was she wrong. Several of the passengers had managed to salvage either gold coins or notes, and in half an hour she returned to the captain.

"Tell him we have three hundred dollars."

Though he clearly resented doing so, Captain Burt relayed the message, and the steam tug sent a boat to rig a tow line. When they entered the harbor a short time later, a pilot boat came out to meet them, carrying astonishing news: forty-nine men from the
Central America
had arrived that very morning in Norfolk.

Word spread like wildfire through the passengers, the news eliciting cheers and prayers. Della and Addie clasped hands painfully, afraid to hope. Half an hour later, the
Empire City
, the same steamship they had seen at Havana, came up and hailed them. Putting off a small boat, the steamer's captain himself came aboard. "Where is Mrs. Easton?" were his first words on reaching the deck.

Addie stepped forward, trembling. Della laid a hand on her arm for support, as they breathlessly waited for him to continue.

"Tell her her husband is awaiting her in Norfolk."

Turning toward Della for a moment, her face lighting with joy and disbelief, Addie let out a cry. "Oh! Oh! My prayers have been answered! Oh, Della!"

Della hugged her joyfully, though her own heart seemed frozen in suspense. Possibly, just possibly, might Kent be another of the survivors? The other women were already peppering Captain McGowan with questions about their own menfolk.

"The bark
Ellen
pulled several dozen men from the water a few hours after the sinking. Some are aboard my ship now, to continue on to New York. Look!" He pointed to where a ragged line of perhaps forty men stood along the rail of the
Empire City
.

The women crowded to the side of the brig, scanning the faces and crying out names. Della followed more slowly, examining each man's face in turn. Kent was not among them. Still, he might, just possibly, be with Ansel Easton in Norfolk, awaiting her ... But no. She dared not allow herself to hope. Not much, anyway.

"I'm willing to take as many of you as would like to come aboard my ship," Captain McGowan said then. "You'll reach New York faster that way, than if you continue on to Norfolk."

Addie refused, of course, now beside herself to see Ansel again, and Della decided to stay with her. Kent was not aboard the
Empire City
, so her only hope, if any remained at all, must be in Norfolk. Virginia Birch and Mary Patterson stood with downcast faces—their husbands were not among those lining the rail of the steamship, either.

"Perhaps they are in Norfolk," Addie said to them encouragingly. "You must come with Della and me to find out. Captain McGowan said there were a few other men who remained ashore."

But Mary shook her head. "Robert is dead. I feel it in my bones. I felt it the moment the
Central America
went down. I just want to get home to New Jersey now, to my mother."

Virginia looked undecided, but finally opted to go with Mary. "If Billy was saved, he'll make his way to New York one way or another. If I stay back, I might miss him altogether. Perhaps he might already be on his way there."

Neither Della nor Addie was willing to shatter her fragile hope, so did not attempt any further persuasion. Most of those on the
Marine
opted to board the steamer, where they would at least be assured of regular meals and a wash before reaching New York. The handful of survivors remaining on the brig bid the others farewell, some tearfully. Shared hardship had forged some strong—and unlikely—friendships.

Della even hugged Mrs. Benbow as she left the ship, much as she had initially disliked the woman. Francis Cadbury, at Mrs. Benbow's side, only glared at her, however.

"Don't think you'll profit by what you stole from my sister," he said. "I'll see that you don't."

Della was more than happy to see him go. As for his threats, she was too heartsore and weary to care whether they carried any weight or not. If Kent had survived, nothing else would matter. And if he had not ...

But she couldn't think that far ahead, not yet. Doing her best not to think at all, she joined Addie at the prow of the
Marine
to watch their progress into the harbor.

It was already dark by the time the ship reached quarantine, and a small boat carried the remainder of the survivors to the city. Seven miles they were rowed, to land at a lumber yard a few blocks from the National Hotel, where they were to stay. Della and Addie walked side by side, near the head of the weary little procession as it wound through the streets.

By the time they reached the hotel, a crowd had gathered, trailing alongside to goggle at the curiosity and call out occasional questions or words of sympathy. Most of the women, however, were too tired and dejected to answer. Addie was the first to enter the hotel, and immediately looked eagerly around for her husband.

"Ansel? Ansel, where are you?" she cried.

Della surveyed the waiting faces, but the one she had hoped against hope to see was not among them. Around her, other women were also discovering that their husbands or, in some cases, sons or brothers, were absent as well. One lady next to her dropped to the floor to sob out her grief, now that the hope that had buoyed her thus far had evaporated. Della swallowed hard, but lifted her chin. She would not succumb to any such display—not before all of these witnesses.

"Mrs. Easton?" A man dressed as a sailor approached them. "Your husband isn't here. He persuaded Captain Johnson, of the
Ellen
, to row him out to the quarantine to meet you, more than an hour since."

"Why, we must have passed each other in the dark," she exclaimed, laughing through the tears that had formed in her eyes at her initial disappointment.

Della stepped forward. "Was anyone else with them?" she asked urgently. "Any other gentlemen from the
Central America
?"

The sailor frowned. "I don't think so, but I can't say for certain, ma'am. Only name I caught was Easton."

"Thank you," Della whispered. Her slender hope stretched thinner, despite Addie's encouraging words. She agreed to wait in the lobby with her friend until Ansel returned. Surely he would have some word about Kent, whether good or bad.

The two found a sofa in a corner and dozed as an hour passed, and then another. It must have been near midnight when a shout roused them.

"Addie! Where is my Addie?" Ansel Easton strode toward them, his arms outstretched, and Addie fairly flew to meet him. Della watched, smiling, as they kissed and embraced, murmuring words intended only for each other's ears. Not even to allay her own fears would she interrupt this reunion.

Finally, however, Addie recalled her presence. "Ansel, what of Mr. Bradford? Was he on the
Ellen
with you?"

His expression gave Della her answer even before he spoke. "I'm afraid not. There was so much confusion ... I didn't see the bark until she was nearly on top of me, in fact. Bradford and I were together just as the ship went down, and he was well and strong then, but I haven't seen him since." His eyes expressed his sympathy more eloquently than his words.

Della's heart seemed to shrivel within her, though she had expected no better news. Somehow, she summoned up a stiff little smile as she thanked Mr. Easton, then told him how happy she was that he and his wife were now reunited.

Addie bit her lip. "Perhaps ... perhaps another ship has rescued more of the men, but word has not yet come ashore. It's possible, isn't it, Ansel?"

He nodded, but there was no conviction in his voice when he said, "Of course. Anything is possible."

"Perhaps." But Della felt utterly drained of life. "I believe I'll ask for my room now. Goodnight." Her hopes finally shattered beyond resurrection, she left them with dragging steps.

*
           
*
           
*

"Halloo! Is anyone else out there?"

Kent roused painfully at the shout, to discover himself lying on his back, bobbing like a cork on a darkened sea. Staring up, he saw a single star break free of the clouds for a moment, to infuse him with a measure of its hope before disappearing again.

Rolling onto his side, he discovered that his upper body was partially supported by a floating plank, and buoyed by his life presever, while his legs dangled in the water, all but numb from the chill. One leg felt as though it might be broken.

"Here!" he tried to shout, but his throat was too dry to make a sound. Swallowing convulsively, he managed to work up enough spit for a second try. "Over here!" This time his voice carried far enough to be heard.

"Halloo?" came the voice that had awakened him. Looking hard in its direction, he saw no lights, nor any outline that betokened a ship.

"Who's there?"

He heard a splashing sound, rapidly drawing nearer, and then a raft of sorts came into view—really, a large section of what had been the steamer's deck. Five or six men lay across it, two of them using bits of planking to paddle. Abandoning his own bit of plank, Kent swam to it, made awkward by his injured leg. He caught hold of the highest edge so as not to overbalance the raft.

"Are we all that's left?" he asked incredulously as they helped him aboard.

"Hard to say, until daylight. We've heard other shouts, farther off than yours, but by the time we could reach them they were gone."

"Look! Is that a light?" asked one of the other men then, whom Kent recognized as one of the crew—a fireman, he thought.

They all looked and saw, far in the distance, the unmistakable outline of a ship, moving slowly away from them. At once they all began shouting as loudly as they could, and the ship turned. Instead of coming toward them, however, it seemed to stop, then proceed away at a different angle.

"They must be combing the area for survivors," Kent said. "Let's paddle in that direction."

The wind, however, was against them, and though they plied boards, arms, and legs, the lights of the ship receded further and further. Their shouts had not been without some effect, however. A few other survivors, floating on the waves, called out to them as they went, and soon the number of men on the raft had grown to ten. Finally, exhausted, they agreed to save their strength for morning, when their chance of rescue would be greater.

Kent managed to doze, despite his leg and the painful lump on his head, which explained his earlier unconsciousness. When he woke again, gray dawn had arrived, but there was no sight of any ship, however they strained their eyes in all directions. A few of the men grumbled that they should have worked harder to paddle toward the lights in the night, and others that there were too many men on the raft for it to remain afloat for long.

"Don't be absurd," said Kent shortly, though he was as hungry and weary as any of them. "We're all quite safe for the moment, especially as the storm appears to be over at long last. All we have to do is hang on here until another ship appears."

Even as he spoke, another shout was heard from the sea. Turning, Kent saw a man, one of the few black passengers from the
Central America
, swimming toward them.

"We can't let him on," exclaimed one of the others. "We're already nearly swamped." And indeed, the raft was by now floating several inches beneath the surface.

"Of course we can," said Kent. "We certainly can't abandon him." He knew that some of the resistance stemmed from the man's color, as well as simple fear, which reminded him vividly of Sharpe's prejudice against Della.

The others were adamant, however, and refused to allow the man, a Mr. Dawson, onto the raft. Kent glared around at them all. "After all we've been through, does your heroism end here?" They averted their eyes, but no one answered him.

With an exclamation of disgust, he turned to the man in the water. "Here is a rope, Mr. Dawson. Tie it around yourself, under your arms, so." He helped the man with the knots, as his own hands seemed too weary to manage them. "Now, with that plank you have, and the other end of the rope tied here to this raft, you should be well enough until another ship comes for us."