Virgin Star (31 page)

She tried to fill out the picture of this prior ship with a familiar face. Nothing and no one emerged in her mind. Desperately she tried to cling to this small piece of memory ...

She did not know how desperately until she looked down to see her whitened knuckles as they clutched the rail. The evidence of her tension frightened her. She knew what tension cost men—their precious lives. She needed all her wits to survive this, especially when he found her out, and more when they reached Malacca where the search for the mystery of her missing memory would begin.

She knew what one did to lose fear. 'Twas a risky venture though!

After a moment's consideration, she realized it was as necessary to her survival as breathing. After saying a silent farewell to her new friend, she quietly made her way back to the captain's door. She slipped back inside as quietly as she had left.

He might wake but then he might hot. She suspected he slept soundly and simply because he seemed to sleep so little. As far as she had been able to tell he went to bed after everyone else, and rose before. She needed to do it; she alone knew how badly.

Seanessy never did stir that first night, nor for three nights afterward. And each night his dreams filled with hauntingly beautiful images of a young girl dancing in the dark middle of the night before him, her lithe, agile body moving gracefully through the ancient steps of the Oriental tai chi masters.

Love often comes only once in life, and a splendid thing it was. He was in love; as never before, he was in love. He knew it, felt it. She was unlike any other; he just wanted to get closer...

Oliver whined before laying his head down.

Shalyn tensed, frantically waving her arm at the huge beast, who did not understand her problem. 'Twas no use. She lay perfectly still, careful to keep her eyes away from him. The dog was a big problem. Seanessy let him in at night when he and a few of his officers—-Butcher, Edward, Taylor, and Hamilton-— convened for cards or chess or backgammon.

Seeing him finally settle down, Shalyn relaxed as much as she could. She drew a deep even breath. This marked her fourth night under the bed. The ship had sailed past Gibraltar and proceeded along the Gold Coast. Yet now that she could come out, Lord, was she afraid!

Actually, terror better described what she felt.

What would he do to her?

Nestled beneath the bed, she listened to the lively conversation and the conclusion of Seanessy's story, followed by the uproarious laughter of this gathering of men at his table. The crew bantered lightly, exchanging talk of politics and the decline of Dutch shipping, of all things. Their high spirits felt tangible. Apparently—-from what she could gather—'twas perfect sailing weather. Not just perfect, but absolutely ideal. The ship flew at a near record pace and as a goodly north wind filled the sails, the men could barely contain their excitement at this once-in-a-lifetime situation.

Surely she could come out now.

Yet she hesitated, and the reason, if she were honest, went beyond a fear of his punishment. Her existence was strange indeed: living under the bed by day and wandering a ghost ship by night. Yet for the first time not only did she feel safe, she also felt recurring moments of hope. Hope that she would be able to discover her past and then her freedom.

How she wanted that freedom! Like a great thirst it was! If her memory did return at Malacca, then she would know what she had to do to be not just safe, but free.

Seanessy and his men had spent the afternoon shifting what little cargo the ship carried to the fore and aft rafters. Seanessy wanted to demonstrate "the full power and glory of his ship's potential speed ..." Many men apparently had only heard of these prime weather conditions; Seanessy and Butcher had experienced them but three times before. She had heard them recount each time in detail for an audience of interested men. So, they all had spent the afternoon in heavy labor, and from the unusual peacefulness that settled over the captain's quarters, they seemed to have exhausted their physical energies.

Which did not dampen their humor.

Seanessy viewed the entire world from the lofty tower of his considerable wit and humor, a. wit as sharp as a butcher's knife, as cunning as a gypsy thief, and bone-tickling funny. It touched almost everything he did. 'Twas the reason, she saw, so many different men from all walks of life and corners of the world were attracted to him. This hardened bunch of seamen not only respected and admired Seanessy, but loved him.

The doctor had been right. She had needed rest and quiet to begin to recover. How unexpected to have found it under Seanessy's bed! She slept or read most of the day, coming awake at night to finish off Seanessy's supper—which was thankfully not cleared away until morning. Most of the night she practiced the disciplined dance of the Oriental masters, a discipline that was as much a part of her as running was to a horse, or swimming to a dolphin. She felt her strength returning and, more important, as she slowly moved through the ancient dance, memories began to surface.

She remembered her training and glimpses of her past: a picture of the encroaching jungle and an arch of blue sky as she hung from a tree branch, hung until her arms ached and sweat poured off her frame. She remembered how badly her arms would ache! She would not let go until they literally shook, trembling violently. She remembered running and running on white sand beaches, running for no purpose or rhyme or reason, past pushing her body beyond endurance/running until her lungs burned and her knees shook. Most of all she remembered following the tai chi dance behind a man, a small older dark-skinned man who wore loose white trousers, naked to the waist. In these pictures she always stood behind him as she followed him through the tai chi movements. She kept waiting for him to turn around, so she could see his face and give him a name.

For she knew she had loved this man.

Yet she had no memory of his face. How she tried to find more of him in the darkened tunnels of her mind. The familiar voice that sometimes echoed in her head belonged to him; somehow he had been as a father to her. How? She was English and he an Oriental. 'Twas so odd ...

'Twas so odd to know him, and yet she could not remember him! She did not remember his name.

She wished she could have a bath. A steaming hot perfumed bath in giant brass tub. With lavender hair soap and a hot oil rinse to help knead the knots out—

Her brow furrowed. She remembered taking these baths. Regularly!

Her heart started pounding. The picture of the tub and the room emerged from her mind. Who was with her? A dark face appeared, familiar, yet—

Who was that? Where was that?

The men settled down to a game of chess. Edward and Hamilton played against Seanessy. Twenty pounds on the game—enough for many families to live on for half a year. She hardly listened as she struggled to remember more.

She remembered the servant. She saw a picture of her in her mind and yet knew nothing else about her. They spoke only through their gazes, locked to each other in silence as if to speak was a danger. As if to smile was a danger, and yet she saw the woman's sympathy—she felt it! The servant had been young, with beautiful Negro features. She wore a formal black cotton dress. In her mind's eye, Shalyn saw this woman lay out a pink silk kimono, her eyes lowered to hide the unspeakable sympathy.

Shalyn hated that kimono. The emotion felt strong, even violent. Shalyn almost cried out in agony as the pictures faded. No other images emerged in her mind. She tried to remember the house, another room. A large library emerged briefly, disappearing before she could remember any more.

Oliver whimpered nearby.

"Rook to white queen seven," Seanessy said, and hearing the sad cry, he looked over at the great dog. "What in blazes is wrong with him?"

The men briefly considered the dog before returning to the board. Except Edward. His gaze did not stray from the black-and-white-checked board. He meant to win this one. Seanessy's mind was not on the game, which meant this was a rare opportunity to beat him at it.

Despite the glory of the elements, Seanessy felt a restlessness normally associated with the very end of a journey. As if he needed a long swim or a drawn-out fight. Aye, he thought, a fight would do him good...

The very idea reminded him of someone. Someone with dark mysterious eyes and rich gold hair dropping in a plait to her waist. Against his will the picture of her nudity rose in his mind; the slim, shapely curves of those long legs, the roundedness of her slender hips, the way the boy's breeches stretched across her backside, and her waist, the way his hands fitted perfectly around that unbelievably small waist, arid, dear Lord, the tempting swelling of her breasts, the tease of the large peaks—

He groaned out loud, suddenly draining his cup, seized by a desire so swift and hot and strong, the girl might be in the very room. It was so much worse somehow at night. When he lay down and closed his eyes, he could taste the faintest trace of her scent in the air. That was all it took and suddenly...

"’Tis like the dog's pining over a lost mate or somethin'," Butcher said, but stared at Seanessy instead.

"’Tis probably nothing more than Slops's slop," Turner said. "Makes me want to weep as well. What was that slop tonight? Rarebit stew, he said, but it tasted more like dung piles dropped in mud."

"I had a dog that started crying out like that once," Hamilton added. A sad look crossed his dark eyes, a bittersweet smile of a man remembering his faithful boyhood friend. "Didn't last the summer."

"Sean, are you going to move or—"

Edward stopped as he noticed Sean's glassy eyed stare. He chuckled. "'Tis going to be a long voyage if you're already missing the ripe comforts of home, Captain. I've never met a man who suffered celibacy like you. I'd swear you never learned how to abuse yourself."

Sean's eyes narrowed with irritation, and he took

Edward's rook for revenge. "Abuse. Suffering. Now there are some apt descriptions." He drained his water goblet whole. "Two or three times a night, and it doesn't even touch the heat that—"

"Sean," Edward said, finally deciding on a move. "Please, my sensibilities ..."

"And here I thought you wanted details," Seanessy replied as he reached for an apple, wondering again how all the food kept disappearing from his quarters. The cheese and bread might be Oliver, but fruit? These were the last few days of fruit too. Unless they stopped at some or another wretched hovel of thieves and beggars, and women too used to even be considered.

"Cap'n." Scott burst through the door. "The stay on the square rigging just cracked. Look's like she's about to give."

Sean set down his rook. "No doubt an adjustment from that last storm she weathered."

Storms often weakened a ship structurally, sometimes causing damage that remained undetected for months, even years. Edward took a last glance at the board and rose. "I'll help Knolls put her back up." Knolls was the ship's main carpenter, but Edward had risen through Seanessy's ranks from that position and he still liked to keep a hand in the constant strengthening of the timber that kept him and all forty-five crew members afloat. "Ham?" He looked to his friend. "Would you please try to keep my king from Sean's pocket?"

"The way he's playing"—Hamilton grinned—"I might be able to pocket ten pounds."

"Ten pounds to play this game out?" Edward laughed as he left. "Between you and Butcher, 'tis little wonder I'm still a poor man."

Seanessy did not return Hamilton's smile.

Oliver continued to stare at the girl. Why was she stuck there? Why wasn't someone helping her out? He wanted to play with her!

The dog's foot long tail thumped. He lifted his head and howled softly. The howl brought gazes to him. He knew the trick. He looked steadily at the master, then turned to stare under the bed.

"What is wrong with that dog?" Sean watched with incomprehension before he moved his rook from the direct path of Ham's knight. "Maybe I'll lower a boat and toss a ball for him tomorrow. Would you like that, boy?"

Howling softly, the dog fixed his head in the direction of the bed, pointing as one would with a finger. Sean had to laugh, "He's never been so restless on a voyage before. One would swear there was someone under my bed."

Oliver howled louder, thumping his tail.

Seanessy rose gracefully from his sitting position. He went to the door, opened it, and called the dog. The dog hesitated, the great tail thumping madly. Reluctantly he rose and pushed his tail between his legs. With a lingering glance at the bed, he left the quarters.

Shalyn breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Seanessy shut the door.

Before returning to the game, Seanessy stretched long arms to the ceiling. He felt Oliver's same restlessness. He bent over, and with his famous acrobatic ease, he went up into a handstand.