Chapter 15

15

JULY 10, 1727 ATLANTIC OCEAN

I slowly blinked my eyes open to the brilliant sunshine streaming through the thick, wavy glass windows on the Ocean Curse . We were back at sea, which meant the rhythmic creaking and swaying of the ship would be constant companions again.

"Good morning," Marcus said from across the cabin.

I turned and found Marcus sitting in one of the chairs near the shelves, a book in hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I sat, pulling my blanket up to my chin.

He slowly closed his book and set it on the table beside him. "I wanted to see what happened when you sleep."

"You were watching me sleep?" I wasn't sure why that made me feel so vulnerable—we slept in the same room every night—but it did—and I didn't mind.

"For a wee bit. I haven't been up for long."

I put my bare feet on the ground and pulled the covers around my shoulders, clasping them tightly next to my chest. "And?"

A gentle smile tilted his lips. "Nothing remarkable, I'm afraid."

For the first time in a long time, I wanted to laugh. "What did you think would happen?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I was hoping you would talk in your sleep, but that didn't happen."

I wrinkled my nose. "Did I do anything?"

"Nay." There was still humor in his voice. "You slept like a wee bairn. Peaceful and content."

Warmth infused my cheeks, and I smiled, though it soon dimmed. "I didn't feel peaceful while I was away. I asked a friend to help me find Annie Barker, and—" How did I tell him that I felt uncomfortable with the affection Lewis was starting to show me? I didn't want to encourage Lewis, yet I needed his help. Could I maintain a friendship with him without leading him on? "'Tis hard to gain someone's trust and help when you have to tell them you live two lives."

"Aye." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You said it was two hundred years in the future. What is it like?"

I clutched the edges of my blanket as I, too, leaned forward, excited by his enthusiasm to learn about my lives. There was something freeing about telling him and Lewis the truth about my existence. I had always known it was a burden too difficult to bear alone, but until now, I hadn't realized how much it helped to talk about it.

"It's so different than here," I said, slipping into my accent and turn of phrase I used in 1927. All my life, I'd been careful to speak properly in whatever time I occupied. People looked at me strangely when I misspoke, and I didn't like drawing unwanted attention or answering questions that would make people suspicious. But now that Marcus knew the truth, I could be myself around him. That, in itself, was the most freeing thing of all. "There are horseless carriages that are powered by motors, and airplanes that fly through the sky, carrying passengers. There are radios and telephones that transmit people's voices over hundreds or even thousands of miles. And there is no more need for candles and lanterns because we have electric lighting. We also have running water indoors, with warm baths and showers, just by turning the handle of a faucet."

Marcus's face went from curious to disbelieving in a heartbeat, and I realized I probably sounded more insane than before. The differences in my lifestyles from one time to the next were shocking. The advancements that humans had made, even in the past two decades of my life in the 1920s, were astounding.

"People fly in 1927?" he asked me.

I nodded, my voice lowering with disappointment that he had become skeptical. "In machines called airplanes. A man just flew over the Atlantic Ocean, from New York to Paris in thirty-three and a half hours."

He thought about that for a moment and then said, "And where do you live?"

"Minnesota."

A frown formed between his eyebrows. "I don't know Minnesota."

"It's at the headwaters of the Mississippi River, in the middle of the North American continent." In 1727, the land was mostly inhabited by fur traders and Indians, and it had no official name. I wasn't sure how much I should tell him about America, but what would it matter if he knew it all? "In 1776, the American colonies will declare independence from England and there will be a war, which will result in America becoming its own country. Many people will migrate to America and will begin to move west, across the Mississippi River, and fill up the vast land. Eventually, it will be divided into forty-eight states."

His skepticism increased while his frown deepened. "The colonies will gain independence? England is the strongest nation on Earth. How will that happen?"

"Some say it's a miracle." Would Marcus or I live long enough to see it happen? "The world is constantly changing, and history is full of surprises," I said. "We are all part of God's story. And He can do what He wills."

"Aye." Marcus nodded, his skepticism fading. "That I know. Do you think 'tis His will that you live like this?"

It was my turn to frown. I'd never considered such a thing.

"Mayhap it isn't a curse after all," he continued before I could respond, "but a gift from God that only a few are privileged to experience."

"A gift?" I shook my head, wanting to scoff. "Nay, 'tis not a gift."

"I would love to see another time and place." He stood and walked to the window, leaning his forearm against the top of the frame. "To be free of this ship, this life, if only for a day."

"Why don't you leave?" I asked, my pulse ticking higher. "Start over?"

"Where would I go?" he asked. "What would I do? I'm a wanted man."

I broached my suggestion with caution, not knowing how he might respond. "Mayhap if you find your mother, you could rejoin her. Take back your old name."

He didn't move as he continued to look out the window at the vast, empty ocean.

"I've thought of it on a thousand sleepless nights," he said, his voice low. "But I can't face her after what I did. She probably despises me."

Six bells rang. I would be missed if I didn't leave now to get the captain's breakfast. Marcus, too, was expected in the cabin below. But I rose from my cot, still holding the blanket close, and joined him at the window.

"If it was me," I said, slowly, cautiously—but with certainty, "I would not care what separated us, whether you had left against your will or of your own choosing. I would want to see you again, to know that you were alive and well." My voice dipped, though I tried to steady it. "To lay my eyes upon you, if only one more time."

Marcus slowly turned away from the window, his intense gaze searching mine. He was so much taller than me, but it was not his height nor his breadth that made me feel defenseless in his presence.

It was the fire I saw behind his eyes, the intelligence and desire for something more than what he had. It was the same desire I held, both here and in 1927. To live a life of my own choosing—not the ones chosen for me.

I wanted to return to his embrace, but I backed up, feeling like I had laid bare my heart, though unintentionally. "I must get breakfast."

I quickly turned away from him and lowered the blanket onto the cot, then put on my vest, shoes, and hat before escaping from his cabin.

If I wasn't careful, I would reveal my heart to Marcus and then I would be powerless.

But it wasn't the fear of revelation that scared me the most. It was the fear that even if he did return my affection, I couldn't accept it.

I hurried to the galley and found that breakfast was still waiting for me.

"Where is Ned?" I asked the cook, but he only scowled at me, then began to spew French words I didn't understand.

I took the pot of oatmeal, the pitcher of ale, and the platter of bread and made my way to the captain's cabin. As always, Hawk was waiting for me to open the outer room door.

"You're late," he said.

"Where is Ned? He wasn't in the galley."

"Sick again." Hawk tilted his head toward the outer room. "Can't leave his cot."

I entered the room, my hands full, and found Ned still asleep. I didn't bother to wake him, knowing he'd probably hurl more angry words at me. He had seemed to rally for a few days, only to be down again. Perhaps it was more than a passing illness that afflicted him.

When I walked into the captain's cabin, all the men were present and seated at the table—Marcus included.

"You're late," Captain Zale said with a snarl.

"'Twas my fault," Marcus said quickly.

I set the food and drink on the table, my cheeks warming at the memory of what I'd told him about my two lives and of him watching me slumber.

"I kept him this morning," Marcus said to the captain.

There was nothing the captain could say to that since I was tasked with serving Marcus.

I had never spoken without being spoken to first, but as I filled Dr. Hartville's mug with ale, I asked quietly, "Is anything to be done about Ned?"

"Mind your own business," Captain Zale said, his harsh words full of anger.

Embarrassment and fear silenced my tongue as I continued to serve the men.

"Are you certain you want to head back to the Florida coast?" Marcus asked the captain as they began to eat their meal.

"Aye." Captain Zale took a long drink and dropped the cup to the table with a thud. "The sooner, the better. Hawk said that there was talk in Nassau that the Atlantis is already there. I'll move heaven and earth to get to the Queen's Dowry before someone else."

I'd heard about the Atlantis several times around this table and gathered that the captain of the other pirate ship had once served on the Ocean Curse before abandoning the crew to start his own. Captain Zale not only wanted to find the Queen's Dowry first, but he also wanted to beat his nemesis.

"The Spanish Armada has increased their patrol of the Florida coast," Marcus told him. "Is it worth the risk? Mayhap we avoid staying close to Florida and go north for a wee bit."

"North?" Captain Zale frowned.

"Merchant ships should be plentiful at this time of year," Hawk said with a shrug, supporting Marcus's suggestion. "'Tis been a while since we've overtaken a cargo of tobacco off the coast of Virginia."

A pirate ship was a democracy, and each man had his vote, but the captain's vote carried the greatest weight unless the prevailing opinions differed from his own. If Marcus could get enough men on his side, perhaps we could head north to his mother.

"We can have all the tobacco we want if we get the Queen's Dowry," Captain Zale said, tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf. "Now that we have the diving bell, we'll have no trouble locating the treasure."

"That diving bell is a health hazard," Dr. Hartville said. "It'll be the death of whoever is forced to use it. 'Tis hardly big enough for a grown man."

The captain's gaze lifted to mine, and a half smile tilted his lips. "Carl is small and healthy. We'll send him down. 'Tis the reason I chose him."

My hand froze as I poured the ale into Hawk's cup. I'd recalled the captain making mention of his desire for me to help with the search before, but I'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of my mother that I hadn't considered the possibility.

Marcus's spoon stopped midway to his mouth, and he slowly lowered his hand. Perhaps he, too, had forgotten the captain's plans. "You can't send the lad to the bottom of the ocean. He has no experience."

"We'll teach him," the captain said, shoveling oatmeal into his mouth.

"'Tis not wise," Marcus tried again. "We don't even know if he swims."

"Do you swim?" Captain Zale asked me.

I stood straight, holding the pitcher of ale in both my trembling hands. I couldn't lie. I had grown up swimming in the lakes near my home in Minneapolis and the Cooper River on Grandfather's plantation. I loved to swim, but I had no wish to enter a diving bell and go to the bottom of the ocean. I wasn't even sure what a diving bell was, though I could easily imagine.

And how could I hide the fact that I was a woman if I was forced to dive? Most men would swim without their shirts on— something I couldn't do. If the others believed I was modest and I was allowed to dive in a shirt, it would become wet and could do little to hide the evidence of my femininity, even with binding.

I had no choice but to tell the truth, though I wondered what Anne Reed would have done in my place. Would she lie to protect herself at all costs? I didn't want to be anything like her—not to mention that my father, Reverend Baldwin, had preached about standing before God with a clean conscience.

Marcus watched for my response.

"I can swim," I finally said.

"Even if you couldn't," the captain said with a laugh, "I'd make you dive."

"I won't let him go," Marcus said, steel in his voice.

Silence filled the cabin as the captain stared at Marcus, a hint of surprise in his gaze. In the several weeks I'd been on the Ocean Curse , I'd rarely seen Marcus stand up to the captain.

"He's my cabin boy," Marcus said, taking ownership of me for the first time, "and I've found him to be indispensable."

No one spoke or ate as they looked between the captain and Marcus.

The captain's astonishment was soon replaced with anger. His jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes. "I gave him to you, and I can take him away whenever I like. I'm in charge of the crew of the Ocean Curse , and if you don't like that, you can desert the ship. But I warn you—if you try, I'll personally hunt you down and shoot you like a traitor. No cabin boy is worth that trouble."

After another tense moment, the men returned to their meal, but Marcus left the cabin.

"Hawk will show you the diving bell and explain how it works," Captain Zale said to me. "Be prepared to dive when we reach the site of the Queen's Dowry."

I didn't know how long that might be, or how I would be prepared to face the bottom of the ocean.

But I would have no choice.