Daughter of Destiny (4 page)

Pete relaxed his stance. “If he don’t, we can let rip with
whatever we want to say, and we won’t have to play religion. . .and the captain
won’t be able to say nothing. Yeah, I’ll make the wager.”

Jonah held out his hand, and each took a turn at shaking
with him to seal the bargain.

“Here you are, Reverend.” The third man returned with a
brass pitcher of steaming water, a bowl, and a towel. “Anything else I can do
for you?”

“Thank you, sir.” Jonah accepted the items, set them on
bench, and began his ablutions.

“Say, Abel, you’ll never believe what the reverend just
hooked us into.”

While the men related their bargain and resumed their card
game in high spirits, Jonah washed all over, shaved, then dressed in a wrinkled
but fresh suit, cravat and all. A good meal would make him a new man. The
thought of food threatened his stomach, but his newfound determination stifled
that weak indulgence. He glanced at the trio, wondering if the fourteen other crew
members would join their challenge. Maybe he should include no more card-playing
in the bargain, but for now he would settle with getting rid of their most
blatant, obnoxious sins.

Refreshed, he nodded to the men and climbed up the hatchway
steps to stand on the main deck. Inhaling a deep breath of brisk ocean air, he
gazed about at the beauty of the billowy clouds in the rich blue sky. His gaze
wandered about the ship where various crew members went about their duties,
coming at last to the quarterdeck at the other end of the vessel. A violent
gasp almost sent him reeling back into the hatch.

Standing at the ship’s helm stood Leah, Captain Swain
behind her, his arms on either side of her and his hands covering hers on the
wheel.

Steadied by Captain Swain, Leah lifted Daniel and helped
him put his small feet between the spokes of the ship’s great wheel. The boy’s
giggles made her laugh, and the captain chuckled. The wind blew through her
uncovered hair, and she hoped it was not tangling in the captain’s brown beard.
With her hands holding the wiggling child’s waist while he gripped the wheel,
she would have to wait to secure her hair. She glanced at Reverend and Mrs. Hillerman,
who stood arm-in-arm by the rail beaming at their son.

“Can I make the ship turn around?” Daniel peeked back over
his shoulder.

Swain laughed loudly. “Don’t tell me you want to go back,
lad. We’re barely eight days into our voyage.”

“Don’t want to go back. Just want to turn the ship around.”

Leah felt him slipping from her grip. “Time to get down,
little one.”

“Aw, do I have to?”

Despite his words, Daniel braced his feet and shoved away
from the wheel, pushing Leah into the solid, unmoving chest of the captain. She
lost her balance and would have fallen in a heap, taking the boy with her, if Swain
had not grasped them both. The wheel spun and the ship jerked. But with another
hearty laugh, he deftly steadied them, moved them aside, and gripped the wheel
to stabilize the vessel, all in one fluid movement.

“Easy.” He tousled Daniel’s hair. “Guess you’ll need a little
practice before you take over my job.”

Daniel’s infectious giggles made his parents and Leah laugh
too.

“Mrs. Adams, explain yourself. What is going on here?”

Jonah stood on the quarterdeck, hands on his hips and a glower
on his face such as Leah had never seen. She felt her cheeks flame, first with
shame, as if caught doing something wrong, and then with indignation. How dare
this man appear so suddenly to condemn her? She gave herself a mental shake to
grip reality. Although she certainly did not feel married, Jonah was her
husband, the only person whose approval mattered to her. . .and to God.

“Reverend Adams, you’re up and about.” She hurried to him
but stopped short of embracing him. “How fine you look, sir.”
But very pale
and thin.

Jonah swayed, and she wondered if she should brace him. Reverend
Hillerman joined them and solved her quandary by placing his arm around the
younger minister.

“Brother Adams, good to see you’ve recovered too. Let me
help you down to the galley for something to eat. I tell you, Smiley’s cooking
has made a new man of me.”

Jonah acknowledged Hillerman with a nod. “Very well. I
suppose that is the first order of business.” He frowned at Leah once again
before descending the stairs and disappearing below.

Leah stared after him, and her mind raced to comprehend
what had angered him. She turned to Gladys, but the woman was chatting with her
son. The wheel firmly in hand, Captain Swain wore a glower not unlike Jonah’s and
stared toward the distant horizon. With a sigh, Leah followed her husband down
to the cabin where Mrs. Smiley hovered over him.

“We must treat that stomach carefully, Reverend, I’ll bring
you some of the chicken stew that put the life back into Reverend Hillerman.”
She hurried toward the galley.

“The dumplings are almost as good as my wife’s.” Hillerman
sat beside Jonah at the table and glanced up. “Ah, and here is
your
lovely wife. Sit here, Sister Adams.” He stood and moved away from the table.
“I was just telling your husband what a fine help you’ve been to Mrs. Hillerman
in caring for Daniel. I would guess that both of them have kept you busy, with
his boyish antics and her continued illness.” His gaze exuded understanding,
and he cast a meaningful look in Jonah’s direction. “I should go help her now.”

He left them just as Mrs. Smiley brought a steaming bowl
and set it before Jonah, all the while cooing maternal kindnesses. “Here’s just
the cure, m’lad. Chicken stew and a side of bread. You’ll be strong as an ox in
no time.”

Despite Hillerman’s suggestion that Leah should sit beside
Jonah, she stood across the table. Her husband had not invited her to sit, so
she would wait for his instructions, lest she unwittingly anger him again.

For now, she tried not to stare as he labored to eat. She
could see his struggle to keep down each bite. But in spite of his severe weight
loss, he was still the finest looking man she had ever seen. And in spite of his
unreasonable, confusing anger, she loved him so very much.

Jonah seemed lost in his meal, and Leah felt encouraged
when she saw a healthy flush of color fill his cheeks. He emptied the bowl,
sopped up the last drops of gravy with a chunk of bread, and closed his eyes as
if letting the nourishment complete its task. After a moment, he opened his
eyes, his gaze rested on her, and he appeared surprised to see her.

“Mrs. Adams.” His voice sounded weak, and when he started
to rise, he dropped back down again. “Forgive me. I suppose it’s best not to
rush into things.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered her response, punctuating it with
a habitual curtsy. Heat rose in her cheeks. Should she still curtsy to him, as
she had in the Adams household?

Jonah gave her a dizzy, crooked smile. “Please sit down,
my. . .” His eyebrows wrinkled with seeming uncertainty. “. . .my dear.”

At his fond address, Leah’s heart lilted. She started
toward the chair beside him just as he gestured to the one opposite. Again,
heat flushed her cheeks. How well she knew that her complexion, even when browned
by the Atlantic sunshine, flamed a brilliant red when she was discomposed. Oh,
how she hated it.

“Yes, sir,” she repeated. Unable to say more, unable to
hide her tears of joy and pain, she sat with folded hands and gazed at her new,
beloved husband.

Although his expression conveyed the kindness she had
always known from him, it somehow gave her no comfort. This was not the way
Reverend Hillerman looked at his wife.

“Are you feeling better, sir?”

Jonah drew in a deep breath and blew it out before
answering. “Somewhat, but I am determined to conquer this foolishness soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

His gentle smile faded into a frown. He started to speak
but apparently changed his mind, for now he looked down and fussed with his
cutlery and napkin. Just when he again seemed about to speak, Mrs. Smiley
bustled in to remove the remains of the meal, chattering her congratulations of
his victory over
mal de mer
. In the next moment, Mr. Smiley entered with
a bucket of water and a mop, shooing the young couple out so he could scrub the
cabin floor.

***

Jonah stood at the quarterdeck rail and stared at the
crow’s nest high on the main mast where a sailor stood watching the horizon.
When the ship dipped into a trough, the man easily grasped the ropes to keep
from falling from the narrow, enclosed platform. When the second mate called
out orders, other men climbed around in the ropes and on the spars positioning the
massive, billowing sails to catch the wind and speed the vessel along its
journey.

Excitement filled Jonah as he considered his bargain with
Sam and Pete. He would regain his strength in a few days and join them in their
work. Then he would earn the right to preach the gospel to them. He could
hardly wait, but wait he must. To rush into the enterprise before his strength
returned would be courting disaster. Until then, he would practice sailors’
knots to toughen and strengthen his hands.

Childish giggles caught his attention, and he turned to see
Leah and Daniel playing cat’s cradle while one of the ship’s cats batted bits
of dangling yellow yarn. The boy had tangled his hands in the string, and Leah
patiently worked to release him, a task made nearly impossible by the lively
kitten. Their laughter rang out like music and lifted Jonah’s soul.

Below in the cabin, Brother Hillerman had explained the
innocence of Leah’s game with Daniel and Swain at the wheel. Jonah wanted to
ask her forgiveness for his foolish anger, but her sweet blushes and tears stirred
such emotion within him, he could not speak. When he regained his strength, he
would once more be in command of himself and would make it all up to her.

She looked up from the game and met his gaze, and her smile
seemed to fade a little. He nodded his encouragement, and she turned back to
her game with a blush on her cheeks. Ah, if only she knew how her fair face and
graceful form stirred his heart, she would blush all the more. But that too
must wait. Not one corner on this ship afforded privacy where he might be alone
with her, and he refused to declare his affection where vulgar sailors might
overhear.

Some of those sailors caught his attention when their
shouted curses rained down from the masts where they struggled with the
flapping sails. The second and third mates responded in kind with their orders.
Jonah slapped the railing in irritation. He looked toward Captain Swain, who
stood at the helm clearly oblivious to the foul language. Enough was enough.
Jonah marched—as much as he could march across the rolling deck—to the
captain’s side.

“Sir, you must put an end to this cursing.” Dizziness
threatened, but he refused to surrender to it. “Why have you not protected the
ladies from these uncouth men?”

Swain continued to stare straight ahead; his jaw clenched.

“Well, sir,” Jonah said. “Will you not answer me?”

Swain shot him a brief glance. “With all due respect,
Reverend. . .” Despite his words, Jonah detected a note of sarcasm in his tone.
“. . .by your own admission, you know very little of the seafaring life. These
men work hard, and most of them are honest, even if they are rough by your
standards. Come down too hard on them, and a man can find himself with mutiny
on his hands. A wise captain chooses his battles carefully.”

Jonah felt himself very near to sputtering out his
indignation, but something in the other man’s demeanor reminded him of his
older brother, who often chided Jonah as being priggish, perhaps rightly so.
Instead, Jonah chuckled.

“I see your point, sir. But might we at least protect the
ladies from all this rudeness?”

Swain shrugged. “I’ll do my job, and you do yours. You’ll
be holding services tomorrow morning, if you’re up to it. Preach at them all
you wish.”

At the captain’s continued air of disapproval, a twinge of
dismay stung Jonah, but he quickly dispelled it. God had moved the man to
permit Sunday services, and He could change his heart in this matter too. With
a bow, only a little awkward due to a sudden swell beneath the ship, Jonah
excused himself and resorted to the crew quarters for several happy hours of
Bible study.

***

When Leah saw Jonah leave the quarterdeck, she hastened to
Captain Swain. “Sir, is Reverend Adams ill again?”

Swain regarded her with his usual intense gaze and sad
smile, a look she still could not decipher. “He’ll be all right.”

“Oh.” She started to turn away.

“Mrs. Adams. . . .”

“Sir?” She peeked around the bent brim of her straw bonnet
to watch him steer the ship. Oh, how his strong stance and full beard reminded
her of her dear father.

“I shall speak to the men about their language. I should
have done it sooner.”

“Their language? Oh, how nice. I’m sure Mrs. Hillerman will
be pleased.”

“And you?”

“Why, yes, of course. But if good behavior does not come
from the heart, it will not continue. It is my prayer that your men will
understand their need for Jesus Christ. It’s His forgiveness they need, not
mine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Swain turned the wheel to meet the surging
waves that tried to change his course. “Your understanding belies your tender
years. I can see why God has wanted you to be a missionary.”

She smiled. Since their first conversation, he had
persisted in his assertions that she had her own calling from God, not just His
calling through her husband. Before she could contradict him, Daniel grasped
her hand and dragged her back to their game.

Seated with the child on the open deck, she glanced at the
hatch to the crew quarters and wished Jonah would reappear. What had his dark
looks meant? Was his seasickness persisting? Was it the blazing sun that
furrowed his brow? Or did he somehow find her deficient before she ever had a
chance to earn his approval?