Daughter of Destiny (3 page)

He looked around for Leah and saw to his relief that she
seemed unaware of Hattie’s presence on the dock. She stood at the railing and
gazed up toward the hills of New Bedford. Her face wore a sweet, wistful
expression like the afterglow from a season of prayer. How pretty, no, how
beautiful she appeared, so unselfish, so completely surrendered to God’s will.

He expelled a quiet breath and then drew in another for
strength. How he wished to take his wife in his arms, and how hard it would be
to stay away from her for these next six months as they sailed to their new
home.

The sharp cursing of one of the crewmen pulled him from his
reverie, and he located the offender. Narrowing his gaze, he strode toward the
quarterdeck to find Captain Swain. Clearly what this crew needed was a Bible
study, and Jonah Adams was just the man to teach it.

“I have considered your offer, Reverend Adams, and I
heartily approve.” Captain Swain sat at the head of the dining table in the
main cabin, with the missionaries seated on either side of him. “No matter how hard
I try to set a Christian example for my crew, they seem to backslide at the
slightest provocation. They are at sea most of their lives, and when they’re on
shore, well, religious services are not their preferred activity. I would
greatly appreciate your holding daily Bible studies and Sunday services. I’ll
be pleased to attend services myself.”

Leah watched the bearded young captain as he spoke, then turned
to see her husband’s response. To her dismay, his tanned complexion still bore
a green pallor, for he had spent a large portion of their first day at sea hanging
over the ship’s railing, right beside Reverend and Mrs. Hillerman. Despite the
rough, rolling waters, little Daniel had lost only his lunch, and now devoured
his supper stew with gusto.

Jonah toyed with his spoon and nodded to Captain Swain.
“Very good, sir.” He swallowed hard, clearly struggling to keep down the few
bites he had eaten. “I shall begin to. . .” He gulped again. “. . .tomorrow.
Thank you for your cooperation. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He quickly arose from his chair, appeared almost to swoon, and
caught himself on the chair back. Leah jumped up and reached out to help him,
but he stayed her with a gesture. “No, Mrs. Adams, sit down and enjoy your. .
.” He swayed. “. . .supper.” He stumbled from the cabin.

“Oh, Reverend Hillerman, please help him.” Leah turned to
the other man. He indeed followed Jonah, but he appeared to be in the same
miserable condition. “Captain. . .?” Leah began, but the captain was catching
Mrs. Hillerman as she fell from her chair.

He swooped her up into his arms and carried her several
feet to her tiny cubicle just off the main cabin. His gentleness impressed
Leah. The man surely must be a Christian, as he had indicated.

While Leah stood to help him, the ship’s cook, Mr. Smiley,
and his wife, Mrs. Smiley, gathered the barely-touched meal and started to carry
dishes and utensils to the galley. The middle-aged couple seemed almost like
bookends, for Mrs. Smiley wore men’s clothing and pulled her graying hair back
in a long, thick braid, just as her husband did. Of medium stature and wiry
build, the two earned their names, for they were jolly, spry people.

“Now there’s a lad with an appetite.” Mrs. Smiley patted
Daniel on the head. “You’ll earn a sweet if you clean your plate, m’lad.” The
boy beamed at her.

Leah stepped over to Mrs. Hillerman’s cabin, a four foot by
seven foot cubicle that she shared with Daniel. The unvented space mirrored
Leah’s own on the other side of the center cabin.

“If you’ll stay with her, Mrs. Adams, I’ll check on your
husbands.” Captain Swain maneuvered around Leah in the tiny area.

“Thank you, Captain.” Leah knelt beside the canvas cot and
brushed the sweat-soaked hair from Gladys’s forehead.

“Daniel. . .” Fear clouded the woman’s eyes.

“I’ll watch him, Sister.” Leah smiled her encouragement.
“You just rest and don’t worry. He’s already got his sea legs, and the Smileys
will help me care for him.”

Gladys responded by depositing her supper in the chamber
pot and then rolling over to fall asleep.

Leah and Mrs. Smiley cleaned the area while the first,
second, and third mates ate their supper. Then Smiley and his wife lifted the
narrow dining table against the wall and secured it with brackets and ropes. By
the time Captain Swain returned to the cabin, Leah had read a Bible story to
Daniel, prayed with him, and put him to bed in her own small bunk. She took up
her Bible once again and sat down to read.

In the dark cabin, one hanging whale oil lamp flung its
light about in rhythm with the rolling ship. The captain disappeared into his
private quarters, then reemerged with a small stack of books.

“May I offer you something additional to read, Mrs. Adams?
I have Shakespeare, Milton, Bunyan.”

Leah glanced up with interest. “Why, thank you, sir. How
kind of you to offer. But I have not asked my husband’s opinion of those authors.
It may be that he would not approve.”

Swain cocked his head and frowned. “Hmm. Such a thing had
not occurred to me. Forgive me, but surely Milton’s
Paradise Lost
or Bunyan’s
Pilgrim’s Progress
would meet his approval.”

“Perhaps. But I shall wait until he grants permission.”
Leah lifted her Bible to catch the wayward lamplight.

The captain sat on a nearby chair. “Then you have not been
married long?”

Leah ceased her reading. “No, sir. We spoke our vows just
this morning.” A blush of pleasure warmed her cheeks.

“Ah.” A strange look passed across his face, but in the
dimness, Leah could not make out its meaning. “Tell me, madam, how is it that
you take to the sea so well?”

“I am a little surprised myself, for it has been eight
years since I last sailed. My father was a whaler, and Mother and I accompanied
him.” She recounted to him the story of her birth on a South Pacific island
where her father had dropped anchor to secure water and food. “Then we returned
to Fénua when I was twelve years old, and the islanders remembered us and gave
us a welcome feast.” She laughed softly. “Like me, my parents had red hair, and
the people had never seen anyone with such coloring. They treated us as if we
were royalty. But their idol worship and heathenish ways caused us great
sorrow. My father told Chief Fénua that we would return one day and bring them
a wonderful new hope, for he planned to return with God’s Word. However, when
we arrived back home in New Bedford, my parents both fell ill with smallpox and
soon died. I had only a mild case. Since then, I have longed to return and give
the islanders that promised message of hope.”

Leah felt her face grow warm again. How rude to speak so
much of herself to this stranger. But when she looked at the captain, she saw
respectful admiration in his pleasant face.

“And after all these years, you
are
returning. How
commendable. And you married a minister and have recruited him to accompany
you. That’s truly remarkable.”

“But. . .”

His comment was so startling, Leah could not think of a
proper response. She had not recruited Jonah for the ministry in Fénua. God
had.

“Well, Mrs. Adams, you and I will have to see to these
landlubbers until they get their sea legs. My ship has carried few passengers,
as you can see by our lack of accommodations, and I am unaccustomed to dealing
with such maladies. Perhaps you have some suggestions on how we might assist
them.”

Reveling in his use of her new name and honored by his
request for advice, she smiled. “My mother kept ginger tea available. I never
required it, but I believe it helps the condition.”

The captain gazed at her for a moment, his kind expression
seeming to intensify. Then he frowned, looked away, and shook his head. “Hmm.
If Smiley had some, he would have mentioned it. I suppose your husband and
friends will simply have to endure their misery until they are used to the sea.
I hope it’s soon. Now, I have first watch tonight, so I must attend to duty.”

He left the cabin, and Leah considered whether she should
read another chapter or go to bed. The Smileys returned from their galley
duties and began stringing up their hammocks.

“Lights out, dearie,” Mrs. Smiley said. “This is where we
sleep, and we’re up before dawn to cook breakfast.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Leah went to her cubicle and slipped
into her bunk beside Daniel. Before the cabin lantern went out, she noticed his
dark eyelashes against silky, tanned cheeks. Her arm around the sleeping boy, she
dreamt that night of having her own sweet child to hold. But even in her
dreams, she wondered if Jonah would always see her as a servant rather than a
wife.

***

Jonah had never felt so miserable in all his life. Would
there be no end to this seasickness? How long had it been going on? Days?
Weeks? He had used every ounce of willpower not to cry out for God’s mercy as his
stomach pitched and rolled in rhythm with the pitch and roll of the sea. With
all his planning, how had he failed to anticipate this trial? Was there no
medicine to help him?

In his hammock in the crew quarters, he was vaguely aware
of Reverend Hillerman’s similar misery. Each would rise of necessity and then
return to lie in agony for more endless hours. From time to time, Captain Swain
or one of the mates brought water and a thin broth. Otherwise, the two
missionaries agreed, they would surely have perished. Jonah’s only consolation
came from learning that Leah had not fallen ill and Mrs. Hillerman had somewhat
recovered, although not completely. Of course decency prevented the ladies from
entering the crew’s quarters.

Reverend Hillerman had managed to go up on deck, and Jonah
tried to climb out of his hammock to find the chamber pot. He fell back into
the rope webbing and groaned. Several crewmen came down the hatchway to the
crew cabin, laughing and cursing. Jonah pulled a blanket over his head to shut
out the sound, ashamed to be so weak that he could not rebuke them. In addition
to their foul language, they sometimes told sordid stories which he could not
escape or forget. All he could do was whisper, “Help, Lord.”

“And so I says to the little beauty. . .” One of the
sailors confided to his fellows.

“Shh!” Another man stopped him. “Have some respect.”

“Aw, the reverend’s asleep. Anyways, as I was saying. . .”

“I said ’shut your face.’”

“He’s right.” A third man spoke in a low rumble. “The lady
is
a beauty, but she’s married to this fellow, worthless as he is. Say, we came
down for a game of cards.”

As the men rummaged around, apparently completing their
plans, Jonah felt icy prickles sweep through him, inside and out. They had been
talking about Leah! Where had Swain been when this dreadful miscreant dared to
address her? What had the man said to her? Why could Jonah not have been there
to protect her? Then these dissolute sailors would have seen what he was made
of. No wonder they thought he was worthless.

A strong wave of nausea threatened him, but suddenly Jonah
would have none of it. Not for another moment would he permit himself to lie
here as a victim of the rolling sea.

He swallowed hard, pulled himself out of his hammock, steadied
himself by its straps, and stared at the trio. “Would one of you gentlemen be
so kind as to bring me some hot water and a towel?”

The men returned his stare and then glanced at each other,
as if realizing he had heard them.

“Aye, sir.” The man’s gravelly voice identified for Jonah
the one who had tried to stop the first speaker. “I’ll be pleased to fetch it,
sir. Smiley always keeps a pot of water on the stove.” He dashed up the hatch.

Jonah continued to stare at the other two, and after a
moment, they looked away and seemed to concentrate on their cards. He heaved a
deep breath and stumbled over to them.

“In the future, you will refrain from your profane language
and vile stories in my presence and in the presence of my wife and fellow
missionaries.”

The men regarded him, traded a look, and slowly stood. One
was short but burly; the closer one was stocky and stood almost eye-to-eye with
Jonah.

“You think you’re man enough to back up those words,
Reverend
?”

Jonah leaned toward him. “I’m man enough, but I won’t
satisfy your misguided definition of the word.”

The two men laughed unpleasantly.

“Blimey, Sam,” the tall one mocked in falsetto, “the holy man
’won’t satisfy’ our misguided definition of the word.” He adjusted his stance
into a threatening posture.

“Hoity-toity, I’d say, Pete.” The other aped his friend’s
tone and pose.

Jonah pursed his lips to keep from laughing. At seminary,
he and his fellow students often had to protect themselves from mocking
ruffians. These reprobates had no idea he was a boxing champion. Weak as he
was, he could still hold his own, but he refused to play their violent game.

“Perhaps hoity-toity, perhaps not, but I will learn how to
do every job you do on this ship. Is that man enough for you?”

The men seemed utterly confused by his pronouncement, and
again Jonah pursed his lips. Pete scratched his head and snorted. “What do you
think, Sam?”

Sam grasped the humor of the situation. “Reverend, I’ll
make a wager with you.”

Jonah started to say he would not wager, but Sam held up
his hand to silence him.

“We’ll show you the ropes, and if you do all right, and
I’ll promise not to curse for the rest of this voyage.”

Jonah chuckled. “Add to that no more disgusting stories,
and you will attend my Bible study and Sunday services, and you have a
bargain.”

Sam slapped Pete’s shoulder. “Whaddaya say, mate? You think
he can do it?”