Threads of Faith Read online

  Kidwell hurried to explain. “Toppin’ things off, I gave her one o’ my tonics.”

  “Of all the cotton bloomin’ things!” Dr. Morrison stood. “You might have left the medicinal side of things to me, you know.”

  “Sorry ’bout that, sir.” Kidwell sent an apologetic look to Daniel.

  “I authorized it.” He took full responsibility. “I knew you’d been occupied with Griswald’s gunshot wound, and Kidwell, being the cook, knows how to concoct quite the elixir. It’s worked for crewmen in the past.”

  “But this is a woman.” The physician’s intelligent brown eyes rested on Daniel.

  “So I’ve noticed, thank you.” He’d become increasingly aware that Miss Wayland possessed curves in all the right places.

  Dr. Morrison leaned in for a closer inspection. “She’s badly hurt, all right. Bring her to the sick bay.”

  CHAPTER 5

  J ULIANNA’S EYES SLOWLY opened to see the pinched features of a skinny old man hovering over her. Sunlight spilled into the room, causing her to squint. She realized she sat in an upright position but tried to move. The clamoring in her head gave her pause. The man stretched out his bony hand.

  “Just rest.”

  Her head sank into a soft pillow.

  “Where am I?” she croaked, inching the single sheet up over her chemise. Why, she’d been undressed!

  “You’re recovering in my infirmary, Miss.”

  He sounded like another Yank. Then Julianna spied the stethoscope around the gent’s long neck.

  “I’m Dr. Morrison.”

  “Julianna Wayland, sir.” She realized she’d been stripped of her dress, corset, crinoline, and camisole. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Hangin’ up in the closet, Miss.”

  “You had no right to take them off of me.” She couldn’t help her indignant tone.

  The doctor glanced her way as a grandfatherly smile stretched across his face. “I’ve been a physician for thirty years. I saw to it that your modesty was never compromised, but I had to check for other bruises and any broken bones.”

  She relaxed. “I suppose a doctor has to do his job.” At least she still wore her stockings, drawers, and chemise.

  From out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed movement. Turning her head to one side, she saw Captain Sundberg striding across the room. He appeared a tad disheveled, with whiskers darkening his jaw and one flap of his white shirt hung over the belt of his black britches.

  Julianna brought the sheet up to her chin and attempted to rise once again. But the captain’s strong hand on her shoulder held her in place.

  “Easy there, Miss Wayland. You gave us quite the scare.” The captain ran his fingers through his thick reddish-brown hair.

  “I did?” She felt transfixed by his attention.

  The captain replied with a single nod. “Kidwell gave you too much of his tonic and that, combined with the injuries you sustained two days ago—”

  “Two days ago?” In spite of her pounding head, Julianna propped herself up on the berth. She clung to a fistful of the starched white linen covering her. “But didn’t it just happen . . . yesterday, judging by the way the sun’s shining?”

  The captain lifted his gaze and met the physician’s stare. “You, um . . . ” He looked back at Julianna and expelled a sigh of resignation. “Miss Wayland, I’m afraid Griswald injured you worse than I had originally thought. I must apologize for my insensitivity in that regard.”

  At the sound of his soft voice, Julianna experienced a wave of dizziness that she was certain had nothing to do with her injuries. A rush of heat spread across her face. How could she so easily fall for such charm?

  She averted her gaze. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Captain. I’m just a lowly maid.”

  “Your station in life has nothing to do with it, Miss Wayland. You see, as this ship’s captain, I am responsible for every soul onboard, stowaways included.” His blue eyes darkened, but his steady gaze never left her face, for which Julianna was grateful. It proved the captain was a gentleman, just like he claimed. “I should not have allowed your injuries to go unattended as I did.”

  “Apology accepted.” She thought the captain could probably charm even the old cook out of her kitchen at Mr. Tolbert’s mansion.

  He dipped his head and then turned to the physician. “Now that Miss Wayland has regained consciousness, I will leave you to your work.”

  “Very good, Captain.”

  He swung his broad shoulders toward the door. “Oh, and one more thing . . . ”

  The doctor’s graying brows arched in expectancy.

  “Miss Wayland is not to leave this sick bay without my prior authorization.” His gaze darted her way before he looked back at the aging doctor. “Is that clear?”

  “Clear as the Thames, sir.”

  Julianna pressed her swollen lips together, staving off a grin. The good doctor was being rather flip.

  The captain scowled before making strides across the infirmary’s polished floor. He gave the paneled door a good slam as he left.

  The doctor chuckled.

  “We might be walking the plank together, if you’re not careful.” Julianna smiled then suddenly winced as pain spread across her face.

  “As you can see, I’m not worried.” The doctor held out a cup of water.

  Taking it, Julianna swallowed it in two gulps. “May I have more?”

  “Of course, but drink it slowly this time.”

  “I will, I promise.” Her face heated with chagrin. “I’m used to having to see to me needs in quick order so Mr. Tolbert wouldn’t get angry.”

  “Well, Mr. Tolbert’s not here.”

  “Thank goodness for that!” She accepted the proffered cup of water again and forced herself to sip as curiosity continued its annoying jab. “So you and Captain Sundberg don’t see eye to eye?”

  “Sure we do. But I’ve known Daniel Sundberg ever since he was a smart-mouthed pup. I’ve known George Ramsey at least twice as long.”

  “Is Mr. Ramsey some relation to the captain?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He had a hand in Daniel’s upbringing, and now our prince is the heir to Ramsey Enterprises.”

  “Prince?”

  The doctor gave her a half shrug. “He’s earned the title of Prince of Sea Captains because he doesn’t mistreat his crew like some ship’s masters do. Sailors get in line to sign on with him.”

  “Prince of Sea Captains . . . ” Julianna knew that name. She’d overhead sailors in the Mariner’s Pub referring to him when she visited her sister there on a Sunday afternoon. She only wished she could recall what those drunken sailors had said. Nothing awful, if her memory served her well. “The captain must be a very important man.”

  “I s’pose he is, although Daniel has had to work for every bit of it.”

  Julianna took another sip of water. The captain was a puzzle to her, so she enjoyed getting this tidbit of information on him.

  “Apparently this is his last voyage,” the aging physician continued. “Must be time for our prince to trade in his helm for the Ramsey crown.”

  “Hmm . . . ” Julianna wondered what would happen to her once she set foot on American soil. What sort of employment would she find? “I don’t suppose Mr. Ramsey would be needing a new maid?”

  “You?

  Julianna nodded. “I didn’t stowaway on purpose.”

  “Yes, I heard something to that effect.”

  “And I’ll need to find a way to pay for me passage back to London.”

  Dr. Morrison narrowed his gaze. “What do you want to go back there for? Sounds like you’ve never had it very good. I’d look at this accidental stowaway as a gift from God above.”

  “I would, except . . . ”

  “Except what?”

  “I can’t help but think of me poor sister. She’s living a terrible life on the wharf, and I’m trying to save me money so I can buy us a house in the country someday.” She thought of h
er jar of coins, stashed away in her bedroom. No doubt her meager savings was lost now.

  “How old is your sister?” The doctor planted a hand on one narrow hip.

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Is she handicapped?”

  “In a manner of speaking, I guess.” Julianna handed back the cup. “She’s stricken with inebriety.”

  “You’ve tried to help her?”

  “Of course! And I did help her when I could—but she refuses my help.”

  “So are you certain you want to return to London—and to that? A drunken sister who doesn’t want your help?”

  Julianna shook her head. “I don’t want to end up like me sister.”

  “Well, then, there’s a new life waiting for you, Missy.” The doctor tucked away his stethoscope and reached for a wad of white bandages and a bottle of antiseptic. “You’ve been given a second chance. Make this one count.” He paused, bending over her once more. “Now let’s take another look at your injuries.”

  The Atlantic stretched out before Daniel like a sea of blue-green ice. The Allegiance gently rose and fell as it sliced through it unencumbered. The wind caused Daniel’s coattails to flap, and on deck his crewmen sang a call-and-response chantey as they pulled and hoisted, adjusting the billowing sails.

  “Boney was a warrior—”

  “Away—a-yah!”

  “A warrior and a terrier—”

  “Jean Francois!”

  Daniel grinned.

  “The men are in good spirits this afternoon.” Bent stepped in beside him.

  “And they should be.” At the helm, Daniel maintained his steady grip. He stood a head taller than the poop deck and had a clear view of the masts. He’d call orders to his second mate, standing on the poop, and he, in turn, hollered orders to the crew on the main deck below. “There’s not a cloud in the sky and the wind is abaft.”

  “Aye, sir.” Bent regarded him askance. “But maybe you should see about getting some shut-eye.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Aye, but I’ve got a feelin’ the weather’ll turn soon.”

  Daniel eyed his first mate. “Oh?” Bent had a knack for predicting tempests.

  “It’s me knees. They never lie.”

  “So I’ve come to know.” Daniel stepped aside and allowed Bent to take the helm.

  “And now you can check on our pretty stowaway too.”

  Daniel heard the goading in his tone. “That’s not funny, Bent.”

  “Not a bit, sir.” He smirked anyhow. “Why, any man in his right mind can see she’s a lovely lit’le thing in spite of the pounding she took from Griswald.”

  Daniel couldn’t deny it—and more’s the reason he wanted to keep her whereabouts guarded from a majority of the crewmen. He’d likely have mutiny on his hands if he didn’t.

  “And she’s strong, for a woman. Courageous too, I’d say, seein’ how she stood up to the Grisly Devil.” The older man gave a sorrowful wag of his head. “She’s kind-hearted. She wanted to take care of her drunken older sister who fell to ruin.”

  “Bent, I don’t need you to list Miss Wayland’s virtues.” A moment’s hesitation, and then he admitted, “I realize now she’s telling the truth. She’s not involved in any conspiracy to steal those paintings. She came aboard by accident.”

  “You’re a wise man, Cap’n.”

  Daniel sensed a pinch of sarcasm, but coming from Bent, he’d let it go. “Griswald, on the other hand, can stay in the hold for the remainder of the voyage. I don’t trust him and suspect he’ll be a poor influence on the other men.”

  “Good call, sir, although the brute won’t be pleased to learn his sentence.”

  Daniel raised a shoulder of indifference. “So be it. I plan to alert port authorities as soon as we dock too. An animal like Griswald shouldn’t be allowed to roam the same streets as decent citizens.”

  “I agree, sir.”

  “Thank you, Bent.” Daniel inclined his head. “Carry on.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Daniel went below and, as his first mate suggested, checked in at the infirmary before heading to his bunk. He walked in to find Miss Wayland asleep.

  He swung his gaze to the physician. “How is she?”

  “Comin’ along. I don’t think her nose is broken after all, although I removed a large blood clot from her nasal cavity. I suspect she’ll be breathing easier from here on in.”

  “Good news.”

  Dr. Morrison tossed him a glance. “She took quite a beating, and I suspect her wrist is sprained and a rib is cracked.”

  Daniel grimaced. However, this latest information cemented his decision to keep Griswald behind bars.

  “Keep her here, then.” Removing his jacket, he folded it over one forearm. “Bent senses foul weather in our future.” He kept his voice low so as not to disturb Miss Wayland. “You may acquire more patients. Be sure she remains safe. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “I will, Captain.”

  “I’m going to get some rest. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  Morrison sent him an affirming nod.

  The ship rocked to and fro. Julianna sat in the corner of the infirmary and braced herself for the next violent wave. It had taken a good twenty-four hours after waking from the tonic before she felt like herself again. But then, just as she’d gotten up and dressed, a terrible storm hit. She glanced at Dr. Morrison, so calm and collected. He didn’t appear the least bit worried the tempest might reduce the Allegiance to mere driftwood.

  Thunder clapped, and the ship rose and dipped. Julianna’s stomach turned. She could hear men’s shouts over the gale.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” She couldn’t imagine having escaped the young master and then the Grisly Devil, only to die in the middle of the ocean.

  “Bah!” The doctor snorted. “It’s just a squall.”

  “A squall, you say?”

  “I’ve been through worse. But don’t fear. The prince is at the helm. Besides,” he added, struggling to keep his medical supplies from spilling from the built-in cabinet, “God controls life and death. If it’s our time, then we’ve got no say about it.”

  “If that’s true, Doctor, then where was God when I lived in the dirty streets of London, begging for someone kind to take me sister and me into their large, warm home?”

  “He was right there with you, Miss.”

  Julianna had to concede that God answered her prayers when Mr. Tolbert took her and Flora in. But any happiness was short-lived after the young master ruined Flora. Perhaps the devil had had his way and not the Lord at all.

  “God is here with us now, saying, ‘Peace, be still.’”

  “I wish I could believe that, Doctor.”

  Another wave came, another lurch of the ship, more thunder, followed closely by a brilliant flash of lightning. Julianna could hear men calling to each other and their footfalls as they ran across the deck above.

  The ship dipped to one side. Sliding across the cabin on her backside, Julianna tried to grab onto anything nailed down. For all her life she couldn’t fathom how God was in this storm.

  All at once two men burst through the door of the sick bay, half carrying and half dragging an injured man. They were drenched to the bone in spite of their oilskins, and they soaked the bedding on which they set the man.

  “We think he broke his leg, Doc,” said one of the men.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cravens; I’ll attend to it.”

  The patient moaned.

  The crewmen took their leave just as another crack of thunder shook the ship. Despite the roiling ship, Dr. Morrison expertly slit open the sailor’s pant leg.

  “Yes, this leg is broken all right.” He glanced at Julianna. “I’m going to need your help. Are you up to it? Your wrist? Your ribs?”

  “I’m up to it.” Julianna wasn’t in any pain. Perhaps her fear of the storm had numbed it. Either way, helping the physician might keep her mind busy.

  H
er gaze fell on their patient, a wide-shouldered, middle-aged blond.

  “You’re not afraid of a mean sailor like me, are you?” He narrowed hazel eyes at Julianna while the physician removed his wet clothes.

  “I might be if your leg weren't broken.”

  He ground out a grin at her quip—or was it an audible wince?

  Julianna scrutinized the man’s injured leg, twisted into an odd angle. She tried not to let her grimace show. Dr. Morrison called for a blanket. She fetched it—which proved no simple feat with the boat listing from side to side.

  At last she found the dry covering and handed it off. Dr. Morrison placed it over the groaning man.

  “Give him a spoonful of this.” Dr. Morrison shoved a small brown bottle and metal utensil at Julianna. “Careful not to drop it.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” She braced herself, but her hand shook too badly to pour some of the liquid onto the spoon.

  The sailor growled, took the bottle, and took a hearty swig.

  “That should do it. Not too much.” Dr. Morrison pulled the medicine from the sailor’s lips. “Lie down now, boy.”

  He did as directed.

  “Let him bite on this while I set his leg.” Dr. Morrison put a leather strap in Julianna’s palm. “Let him keep biting and tell him to holler as loud as he wants to.”

  For the first time in her life Julianna felt compassion and not contempt for a seafaring man. She pitied him for what was about to take place.

  “This is going to hurt, son.”

  “I’m ready, you old salty piece of pork.”

  Julianna put the strap between the man’s jaws.

  “UUUUHHHHHHH!” He let out a yell.

  Julianna tensed but managed to keep his forehead down and the leather between his clenched teeth. “You’ll be all right. You’ll see. You’re going to survive this and be all the stronger for it.” They were words she often murmured to herself as a girl.

  The sailor bellowed again. Beads of sweat began dotting his brow. Finally he lost consciousness.

  Julianna moved back. “Did he die?”

  The doctor glanced over his shoulder. “No, no . . . ” With his arms around the man’s log-sized leg, the doctor tugged and turned. “His name’s Whitley, and he’s far too stubborn to die. He merely succumbed to the pain and laudanum. Better for him that he did too.”