Threads of Faith Read online

  What will I do once I do get off?

  Julianna didn’t want to return to her job at the Tolberts, not with the young master, that miscreant, home again.

  Struggling within her confines, Julianna tried to move her limbs. Prickles of numbness moved from her feet to her ankles. She wiggled, but there wasn’t space enough to shift positions.

  “Help!” Julianna’s voice drowned beneath the noise of the sea and the myriad of cargo. “Help me, please!” When she thought that she might never be found, a sense of panic began to rise. She needed out of here—and now! “Anyone! Please, help!”

  CHAPTER 2

  H OW LONG SHE screamed for help, Julianna couldn’t be sure. But now she saw her efforts as sheer folly. Her hoarse voice and parched throat pleaded for even a drop of water. Her strength waned, and like a specter, despair hovered in the darkness surrounding her.

  Suddenly she heard a creaking of a door, then a shaft of light appeared. It grew brighter as a door opened farther.

  “Help! Please!” She barely croaked out the pleas.

  Shuffling boots against the wooden floor brought the lamplight closer. “Well, well . . . ” A man’s deep voice filled the cargo space. “What ’ave we ’ere? A stowaway?”

  She worked to control the deep and increasing anxiousness inside of her. She didn’t trust seafaring men. Before she worked for the Tolberts, she and Flora called the streets of London their home. She’d learned that sailors were all alike, selfish ogres, and yet this one was her only hope. Then again, who had she expected to rescue her, here onboard a ship?

  Setting down his lamp, the sailor gave the crate a violent shake, and she cried out. The wood splintered, and then the side of the crate fell open. His thick hand reached in, grabbed hold of her, and pulled her to the floor.

  Too stunned to even scream, Julianna lay there while blood flowed to her circulation-starved limbs, causing a million pin-pricks under her flesh. Moments later she attempted to stand, but her knees buckled. The iron clamp over her upper arm forced her upright.

  “You’ve done a bad thing, stowin’ away on this ship.”

  “It was a mistake.” Julianna stared at the unkempt man, imprisoning her with his meaty fist. His rancid breath caused her stomach to lurch again. She turned away.

  “Look at me, you!”

  Swallowing hard, she brought her gaze back to the man’s grizzled, unshaven face and dark eyes. Sweat stained his faded blue-and-white striped shirt. Julianna shrunk back.

  “When the cap’n finds out, he’ll make you walk the plank. You’re as good as shark bait.”

  “But it was an accident.” Tingles of fear crept up Julianna’s spine.

  A wicked-looking sneer curled the corners of the man’s thick lips. “Maybe it was, an’ maybe it wasn’t. Either way the cap’n won’t like it. He’s a mean one, this cap’n.”

  “Perhaps if I explain—”

  “He won’t care.” The sailor pulled Julianna closer to him. “But I might be persuaded to ’elp you out.”

  Julianna fought yet another urge to gag. “You sailors are all alike.”

  “So we are.” He snickered. “How ’bout a little kiss for the Grisly Devil?” The feeling returned to Julianna’s feet, and she gave the sailor a hard kick in the shin. He yelped and slacked up on his hold around her arm. Julianna wrenched free and ran through the stacks of crates.

  He cut her off near the doorway, his eyes squinting in a menacing way. “You ought not ’ave done that to the Grisly Devil.”

  “You are a devil!” Julianna carefully stepped backward.

  “Aye. I’ve earned this name because of me mean temperament.” He inched forward. “An’ now you’re going to ’ave a little taste of it.”

  Julianna wetted her parched lips. “A girl has the right to defend herself.”

  “I suppose she does at that.” He produced a wicked laugh. “But ye won’t get far from me, girly, although I’m willin’ to chase you. And when I get you . . . ”

  His muscle-bound arm shot out in her direction, but Julianna successfully dodged it. She turned and ran the way she’d come, then doubled back and nearly made it to the doorway.

  That’s when the sailor caught her.

  He laughed. “I got you, girly. Now how ’bout a kiss?”

  Julianna struggled. “You’ll get no kiss from me, you brute!”

  “Brute, is it? Maybe I’ll take more than a kiss.”

  Julianna swung her palm toward his jaw, but he easily intercepted it and returned the gesture, using his meaty fist. The blow knocked Julianna senseless. When consciousness returned to her, she realized the Grisly Devil had dragged her to a far corner.

  “Get your hands off me!”

  He pinned her down with one knee on her chest. Both her pinafore and bodice gave way as he ripped the fabric. Panicked, she squirmed and clawed with frantic fervor. He couldn’t win this fight. He wouldn’t!

  With what she knew must be her last breath, she screamed for all she was worth. The Grisly Devil struck her again, this time square in the face. Pain shot across her cheeks and forehead. The back of her throat filled with a thick and salty fluid. She choked but refused to give up. This couldn’t be how she’d die—at the hands of this murderous man!

  “Stop your flailing. I mean to get what I want.”

  Her mind screamed against the command. Seeing his arm near her cheek, Julianna turned and bit down hard. Her assailant yelped.

  Seconds later his weight lifted from her body, and quietness descended. The ship rolled, and her stomach did the same. Moving onto her side, she retched before gulping in precious air and realizing that she’d survived the ordeal. Julianna blinked. Had the devil vanished?

  Clutching the pieces of her torn gown together, she slowly propped herself up on one elbow and saw that, several feet away, a second man just as large as her attacker held a long blade beneath the devil’s chin.

  “The captain’ll hear about this, Griswald.”

  He sounded like an American.

  “Aye, Kidwell, and I’ll be a hero for finding that stowaway. ’Tis against the law, ye know.”

  “So is attacking a helpless female.”

  Julianna’s tension ebbed. It appeared the Yank had come to her aid.

  “Bah! She’s not so ’elpless, and I’ve the scratches and bites to prove it.”

  A long pause.

  “I ought to slit your throat right now, Griswald, and spare the captain his time.”

  The devil lashed out, and Julianna screamed.

  “All right. All right. What in the Queen Mother’s name is going on in here?”

  A third man happened into the cargo hold. An aura of importance encompassed him. His gaze lit on Julianna, and he stopped midstride. His hand moved to the butt of a revolver tucked in between the shiny buttons on his coat.

  Griswald struggled until Kidwell set him free. “I ’appened on a stowaway, Mr. Bentley.” He pointed a sausage-sized finger at Julianna. “She gave me a pack of trouble, but I showed her who’s boss.”

  Kidwell came toward Julianna. Locks of thick, curly, red hair fell from his cap and onto his forehead. “Beat her half to death is what it looks like.”

  He offered his hand. She accepted, and he easily pulled her to her feet, although she nearly lost her balance as the ship tipped slightly to one side before righting again.

  Kidwell steadied her. “You’ll get your sea legs soon enough.”

  The man named Mr. Bentley cocked his head, studying Julianna. “What ’appened, Miss?”

  “It was an accident.” Her nose ran, and she guessed it bled. Kidwell offered his handkerchief and she took it. “I was hiding in the crate to get away from a man like this.” She pointed at Griswald. “He tried to . . . ” She clipped her accusation, lest she be the one blamed for the hideous act. The seamen might see her as some sort of hussy.

  “We can tell what he tried to do,” Kidwell ground out.

  “Aye, and wait until the captain ’ears about it
.” Mr. Bentley said.

  Julianna shuddered.

  “I’m innocent!” Griswald bellowed. “She’s the lawless one.”

  “I don’t think so.” Kidwell turned the handle of the knife in his palm. “I think you would have killed this female if I hadn’t come in time.”

  “And so what if I had?” Griswald drawled.

  “We’ll let the cap’n be the judge. In the meantime”—Bentley focused on Griswald—“it’s my duty to place you under this ship’s arrest.” Pulling out his gun, he aimed the barrel at Griswald’s chest.

  “Let’s go.” He spoke out of the side of his mouth to Kidwell. “Bring the girl.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kidwell’s approach was easy, and his hold on Julianna’s arm felt more like assistance than a policing handgrip.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. But you, Miss”—his voice hardened—“have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” She hoped she’d be given a fair opportunity.

  Julianna’s fingers tightened around the torn fabric of her dress. Surely the captain would understand how she came to be in the bowels of his ship. Wouldn’t he?

  At the rat-tat-tat on his cabin door, Daniel glanced up from the logbook and nodded to Jimmy.

  His cabin boy opened the door, revealing a veritable crowd. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n, but we’ve got a situation here.”

  Daniel stood. “Come in.”

  First to enter was a hulking crewman, followed by his first officer, Bentley. Daniel knew it was Cravens’s shift at the helm, so he wasn’t surprised to see Bentley. But then he glimpsed the old Teat Fire in Bent’s hand and guessed the situation was grave at best. “What seems to be the—”

  He stopped short when his gaze fell on a dark-headed woman holding together her torn bodice. He quelled an irritable sigh. Judging by her attire, he guessed she worked as some sort of barmaid and that she’d been stealthily brought on board for the crew’s entertainment. It seemed that things had already turned out badly for her. The woman’s features were obscured by patches of bloodstains, and both eyes were red and puffy.

  “What’s happened here?” As if I don’t already know. Daniel rounded his desk and cast a look at Bent. “I didn’t realize we had any female passengers.”

  “We don’t, sir. That is . . . I didn’t know we did, until now.”

  Setting his hands on his hips, Daniel turned his attention back to the woman. She held a bloodied handkerchief to her nose. Her white apron had been ripped from its shoulder seams and lay against her black skirt. The bodice of her black dress too had been torn, and her white cap hung in the knots of her brown tresses.

  “I–I can explain, Captain,” she said in a timid voice. Her wide gray eyes seemed to beseech him, and to say she looked frightened would be an understatement.

  The ship listed to the left, and the woman lost her footing. Daniel caught her arm.

  “She’s a stowaway,” the burly sailor blurted. “I found ’er in a crate in the storeroom.”

  “That may be,” came a voice from the hulk of a man, darkening the cabin doorway, “but you beat her.”

  Daniel’s gaze moved beyond the female and to the man who just spoke. Kidwell. He stood with a butcher knife in his hand.

  “You would have done worse,” Kidwell continued, “if I hadn’t come along.”

  Daniel clenched his jaw. He didn’t tolerate abhorrent behavior on his ship. He peered at the crewman. “Is this true?”

  A twisted grin contorted the man’s lips. “I was just havin’ a bit o’ fun is all. I can’t help it that the girl fell an’ hurt herself.”

  Daniel’s gaze hopped to the woman, and again he noted the extent of her injuries. He released her, stepped back, and glared at the sailor. “Do you take me for a fool? It’s quite obvious she didn’t fall and hurt herself.”

  “And that’s the truth.” The woman’s voice shook. “This man, the Grisly Devil, he’s responsible for my injuries.”

  “Grisly Devil, is it?” Daniel arched a brow.

  “My nickname, sir.” The man had the audacity to raise his chin in a proud fashion.

  “His name’s Griswald,” Bent said. “Devlin Griswald.”

  “Well, then, Mr. Griswald,” Daniel ground out, “let it be known I detest men who abuse women.”

  “In this case, she’s a stowaway, Cap’n.”

  Daniel noted the disrespectful tone. “Stowaway or not”—he clenched his fists at his side, resisting the urge to pommel this beefy man right into the floorboards. True, men sometimes had to fight it out, but—“a man never has the right to raise his hand to a woman.”

  “I knew you’d feel that way, sir.” Bent lifted the Teat Fire a little higher.

  “Besides . . . ” Daniel trained his gaze on the crewman’s unshaven face. “I’m master of this ship, and any stowaways are to be reported to me.”

  “Just givin’ ye a hand, sir.” The sailor puffed out his chest, and Daniel knew the man was trouble.

  “I have no use for liars and thugs on board my ship.” Daniel looked at Bent. “Take this man below to the prison hold and lock him up.”

  “Do we have to feed him, sir?” Kidwell’s eyes darkened. “I’d prefer to let him starve.”

  “Might be a good idea.” Daniel pulled his handkerchief from his shirt pocket and handed it to the woman. She held it to her bleeding nose.

  “A bit harsh, don’cha think?” Defiance glinted in Griswald’s murky eyes.

  “Perhaps not harsh enough.” Daniel set his jaw.

  Seconds later the sailor swung his meaty arms upward in a violent thrust and rammed into Bent. The revolver clattered to the floor and discharged. The woman screamed. Jimmy dove under Daniel’s desk for cover. Smoke filled the cabin, and through the haze Daniel watched Griswald crumple, cradling his left arm. Kidwell pounced and held his knife to Griswald’s throat.

  Daniel suddenly recalled the cook’s quick temper. “Easy now. I’d prefer that no souls be lost.”

  Bent inspected the crewman’s injury while Griswald bawled like a newborn calf. Sulfur tinged Daniel’s nostrils and stung his eyes, and then he noticed the stowaway huddled in a corner. She appeared all the more frightened but unharmed by the revolver’s mishap.

  “It’s just a surface wound, Cap’n.” Bent retrieved his gun, before assisting the crewman to his feet with Kidwell’s help. “We’ll bandage ’im in the brig.”

  “Watch yourself,” Daniel warned.

  “I intend to, sir.”

  “I’ve got your back, Mr. Bentley.” Kidwell continued to bandy his blade. “And just so we understand each other—” He pointed the tip at Griswald’s nose. “I can clean a mackerel in less than thirty seconds.”

  Daniel heard his stowaway gasp from her corner of the cabin and determined she’d heard quite enough from his crew. “All right.

  Get Griswald out of here. Patch his wound and lock him up. And Jimmy?”

  “Yes, sir?” The shaggy-haired cabin boy climbed out from under the desk.

  “Make yourself useful.”

  “All right, sir.”

  Daniel watched as the teenage boy followed the men out of his office. Closing the door, he drew in a long breath and finally directed his attention to the injured woman. “And just what do you have to say for yourself?”

  CHAPTER 3

  L IKE I SAID, Captain, I can explain.”

  Daniel slowly approached the stowaway. She curled her shoulders inward as if in defense.

  “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, Miss.”

  “You won’t make me walk the plank, will you?”

  Daniel almost cracked a smile. “I hadn’t planned on it, no.”

  The woman expelled a relieved sigh, although she continued to make good use of his handkerchief. “Glad to hear it. You seem like a reasonable man.”

  “I suppose I am.” Daniel realized introductions had never been made. He gave her a small bow. “Capt
ain Daniel Sundberg at your service.”

  She unfurled herself and inched up to her full height, which didn’t quite meet his chin. “Miss Julianna Wayland . . . and I’ll tell you everything, sir, if I could just have a sip of water.”

  “Of course. Come and sit down.”

  “Thank you.”

  He reached for her elbow and escorted her to an armchair, taking note of her British accent and the graceful way she carried herself. “You hardly appear to be the usual barmaid who’s smuggled aboard or the waif that stows away.”

  “I’m neither, sir. It was a mistake. Believe me. I was being pursued, so I climbed into an empty crate to hide. Someone nailed it shut, and with all the noise at the wharf, nobody heard me cries.”

  “I gather you’re employed in London?” He filled a cup with water from the pitcher standing on the far table. Crossing the room, he handed it to her.

  She drank it down in four swallows. “Oh, thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” He strode across the cabin and fetched an extra shirt from his narrow closet.

  “I work for Mr. Olson Tolbert Senior.”

  “Tolbert?” Daniel knew of the man. “The noted philanthropist.”

  “I suppose you could call him that, sir. Me sister and I were one of his projects. That’s how I came to have me employment.”

  “Hmm . . . ” Daniel glanced at the shirt in his hand. “Well, um, I don’t have any spare female attire”—he couldn’t keep a note of sarcasm from his tone—“but this should do nicely until I can get you a needle and some thread.”

  “Thank you, Captain Sundberg.”

  She accepted his shirt, and Daniel made his way to the washstand, keeping his back turned while she pulled it over her shoulders. He soaked a cloth in the basin, and when he sensed Miss Wayland had adequately covered herself, he returned.

  “Let’s have a look at that battered face of yours.” He knelt and began removing the dried blood from her cheek. “It’s possible that your nose is broken.”

  “I’ll survive. I’ve suffered worse.” Slowly she pulled the wet cloth from his hand. “And, if you don’t mind, I can manage on me own.”