Daughter of Destiny (6 page)

“Steady, men,” Swain called out. “They’re trying to
intimidate us into trimming sail or wasting our shot before they’re in range.”

“Merciful Father, blow them away with Your mighty wind.”
Jonah whispered his prayer, but Leah heard, and her heart lifted.
Yes, Lord,
blow them away.

Another volley blasted from the other ship, and several men
ducked, despite the shortfall of the shot. Now they could see the forward
cannon bay doors open, and Swain swore.

“Captain,” cried Jonah, “Do you not think it would be
better to address the Almighty with a little more respect. He is the only one
who can get us out of this.”

Swain made as if to rebuke him, but instead he gave him a
curt nod. “God, help us,” he cried, gazing up to the sky.

“God help us,” echoed Jonah, Reverend Hillerman, and
several crew members.

As another blast of shot exploded toward them, three great
white birds flew between the ships and began to follow
Destiny’s Hope
.
The pirate vessel instantly ceased fire.

“Praise be,” shouted Swain, and once again crew members
echoed his cry, adding cheers and hurrahs.

Hillerman and Jonah traded looks.

“What on earth. . .?” Jonah said.

“Albatross,” cried Leah. “They wouldn’t dare shoot an albatross.
Seafaring men believe if they kill an albatross it brings a curse on the entire
ship.”

Jonah stared at her and then at the birds, who now seemed
like a heavenly escort. “Oh, God, how wondrous are Thy works!”

“Amen and amen,” Hillerman shouted.

Their protectors glided on the air behind them, and the gap
between
Destiny’s Hope
and the pirate ship widened. Some of the men
jumped up and down in celebration, and others danced a jig. Jonah and Hillerman
clapped each other on the shoulder.

As the celebration died down, Swain ordered two men to stay
on the quarterdeck with their muskets in case the pirates resumed their
pursuit. The others returned to their duties, and Smiley brought a bucket of
stale bread to throw to the birds in gratitude for their protection.

Jonah turned to Leah, and she felt her heart sink. She
should have trusted God rather than disobey her husband. She deserved whatever
rebuke he gave her.

“Mrs. Adams, you were very brave.” His gentle tone turned
her descending heart and sent it soaring into the sky like the albatrosses sailing
on the wind in their wake.

“Thank you, Reverend Adams.” He smiled at her, and his gaze
grew more intense.

Despite the wind, her face felt on fire, and she stared down. “I’ll go see to
Sister Gladys and Daniel.” She fled before he could respond, for surely he
would now say something about her disobedience.

“How is your wound, Reverend Hillerman?” Captain Swain sat
at the head of the supper table and inquired about the health of each of his
passengers, as he did each evening.

At first, Leah thought he did it as a ritual, but after more
than five months aboard his ship, she could see his genuine concern.

Reverend Hillerman chuckled. “I should take you to task for
it, Captain. This landlubber had no idea walking on land would be so difficult
after all these months at sea. Still, the limb was not broken, and I expect to
be back on my feet soon.”

“Good man. As for you, Reverend Adams, I am amazed at your
ability to adjust to any circumstance. You scaled the rocks at Tierra del Fuego as if you were a mountain goat.”

Jonah shrugged, but his eyes lit with pleasure, and he
inclined his head at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. Despite Brother
Hillerman’s fall, I am certain we all feel better for having those two days on
land before this next portion of our journey.”

“Is it so very difficult navigating these Straits of
Magellan?” Sister Gladys pulled Daniel close and put a hand over her unborn
child.

Instead of his usual cheery reply, Swain gazed at her with
concern. “Mrs. Hillerman, I will not mislead you. The main portion of the
passage is fairly calm. But when we near the western end of the straits, I
think it will be best to lash you ladies and young Daniel to your beds. Nothing
we have encountered has prepared you for the violence of those seas. Yet many
have gone before us, and I have navigated the channel numerous times. We may
have to try more than once, but I shall deliver you safely to the other side.”

“Oh, mercy,” said Gladys. “Should we not have gone around Cape Horn instead?”

“No ma’am. That route might entail months of trying and
turning back, because where the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific meet, each
ocean seeks preeminence. Many ships have met their doom there.”

“Oh, mercy,” Gladys repeated, pressing her hand to her
heart.

“Don’t be frightened, sister.” Leah reached across the
table to squeeze her hand. “God has not failed us in this voyage. We may have a
bit of rough going, but He will see us safely to our destination.”

Despite her words, Leah felt great concern for her friend.
She herself would wrap Gladys in sheets and secure her to the cot in her
cubicle. As for her own safety, she felt no need to be likewise secured. Surely
the captain and Jonah would agree. Better that she be free to assist where
needed. In fact, better that Brother Hillerman be lashed to Leah’s cot so his
sprained leg received no further injury.

“Master Daniel.” Swain leaned toward the boy. “Tomorrow
after dinner, be sure to tie Mrs. Goat in her stall and give her plenty of
straw for cushioning.”

“Yes sir.” The boy’s eyes sparkled, as they always did when
the captain addressed him.

Swain now directed
the conversation to other things, but Leah noticed Jonah’s eyes sparkled just
like Daniel’s. Each time they met a new circumstance, Jonah seemed to view it
as a personal challenge. With each success, Leah’s pride in her husband grew.
She knew he would come through the Straits just as he had every storm. Further,
she knew he would adjust to life on their island destination with that same
courage and determination.

***

Jonah took a firm
stance, grasped the halyard, and pulled with all his considerable strength.
Over these months of hoisting sail, his muscles had grown so large that Leah
had to let his shirts out. Nothing exhilarated him as much as working side by
side with the sailors, unless it was the prospect of a new challenge. He had
earned Swain’s confidence and would work on deck during the upcoming passage.

Fifty foot
waves.
Despite all he had seen, he could not imagine such monstrous seas. But
he determined to gird up the loins of his mind and face them with God’s
strength. Swain said the men working the sails would be lashed to their
positions, just as the captain would be to his place at the helm.

“Oy, Rev, look
lively.” Samuel stood across the deck pulling the other mainsail halyard. “Keep
it even.”

“Sorry.” Jonah
grimaced at his error. Disaster could happen when a man got lost in thought. He
put his weight into leveling the sail. “Say, Samuel, what’s all that wood we
see in the water?”

Samuel shot a dark
glance over his shoulder and then jerked his head toward the quarterdeck where
the ladies sat sewing. Jonah caught his meaning, and fear clutched his heart.
Not for himself, but for Leah and Sister Hillerman. Some other ship had tried
this passage and failed—recently.

Lord, be with
us. Protect us all.

Verses of
scripture came to mind: “They that go down to the sea in ships. . .these see
the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and
raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to
the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of
trouble. . .Then they cry unto the Lord. . .and he bringeth them out of their
distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.”

Perhaps God would
use this passage to change the hearts of Pete and the others who thus far had
spurned His salvation. When they reached the far side of the Straits, Jonah
would preach a message on those verses from Psalm 107 to remind the crew of
God’s mercy. For now, he would cling to God’s promise of deliverance to subdue
his own fears over the coming danger.

***

“Are you
comfortable, sister?” Leah tied the last corner of the sheet around Gladys’s
body and then checked to be sure the baby within her was not too tightly bound.

Gladys laughed
nervously. “Oh, yes, of course.” She gripped Leah’s hand. “Sister, if anything
should happen to me. . .”

“Shh. We’ll all be
fine. Reverend Hillerman is secure in the captain’s berth, and Daniel is safe
in mine.” Leah caught her balance as the ship met a surging wave.

Gladys sighed. “I
trust in God with all my heart, but that does not keep me from being afraid.”

“Oh, yes, I
understand. But let us recall the Psalm: ’What time I am afraid, I will trust
in Thee,’” said Leah.

“Yes. Yes, you’re
right. If you hear me cry out, pay no attention.” She exhaled another nervous
laugh.

Leah squeezed her
arm and set a kiss on her cheek. She shut the cubicle door and crossed the cabin
just as the ship dipped low into a sudden trough, sending Leah to the deck on
all fours.

“Eeep!” She gasped
back her cry. “I’m all right, Sister Gladys. You?”

“Yes.” The weak
call came through the door. “Please check Daniel.”

“Right away.”

As the ship tossed
about in the increasingly savage waves, Leah crawled across the deck toward her
cubicle. Halfway there, she saw the open door.

“Daniel?” She
searched beneath the covers, under the cot, and even in her trunk. “Daniel!”
She spoke in an anxious whisper, praying Gladys would not hear.

A door banged
outside the central cabin—the door to the topside hatchway.

“Daniel!” This
time the child’s name screamed from deep within her.

“Sister Leah, what
is it?” cried Gladys.

“Mrs. Adams, what
is it?” Reverend Hillerman emerged from the captain’s cabin, inching across the
deck on one knee, the injured leg dragged behind him.

“See to your wife,
brother. I will go. You cannot help in your condition.”

Leah forced
herself to her feet and plunged through the cabin door, staggering with the
roll of the ship toward the hatch. “Daniel.”

The boy clung to
the stairway railing, his faced streaked with sea spray and tears. “I forgot to
tie up Mrs. Goat.”

The ship pitched
into a trough, and Leah fell once again. “Daniel, come back.”

“No.” Knees on the
steps, he held the railing and pulled himself toward the hatch.

The ship listed to
starboard, and Leah fell against the wall, dazed. “Daniel,” she whimpered.
“Come back.”

***

The ocean roared
with indignation that mere mortals dared to breach its secret channel. It churned
and thrashed, seeking to destroy the intruders. Lashed to the main mast, drenched
to the skin by the icy waters, Jonah held fast to the ropes and kept watch on Pete
and Jim high above. There they tightened the gaskets that secured the furled
sails. If any sail broke loose, Jonah was to climb the ratlines and help them. Both
Swain and First Mate Turner stood at the helm keeping the ship in the center of
the strait, lest it be dashed on the great, jagged rocks on either side.

The sudden thump
of the hatch slamming open drew Jonah’s attention from his task. In horror, he
watched Daniel emerge, fall, and skid across the deck with a squeal of fright.
Jonah grabbed the ropes that bound him, quickly loosening them despite their
wetness.

“Daniel,” he
called. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

Sliding on the
drenched boards, Jonah skidded to the boy and grasped him. Daniel flung tiny
arms around his neck, tiny legs around his waist. On hands and knees, Jonah
inched his way across the deck, groping for something to hang on to. At last he
made it to the hatch, where Leah clung to the railing. He thrust the trembling
child into her arms.

“Get below.”

She nodded, then stared
beyond him and screamed. Jonah turned just in time to see a wall of water
crashing down upon him.

“Leah!”

Water drowned out
his cry, slammed him to the deck, and swept him toward the ship’s rail. Another
wave dashed against him, lifting him, washing him overboard. He grasped for
something, anything, but touched only the sea. He tried to draw in a breath,
but took in only water. And then everything went black.

***

Water filled the
passageway, but when the ship arced high on a wave, then plunged into yet
another trough, much of the water drained out, almost washing Leah and Daniel out
with it. With Daniel gripped in her arms, Leah jammed her legs against the
outer wall, crying to God for help. If only Jonah would come back and help her.
. .

What had Captain
Swain said? This worst part of the Straits might take a few hours or it might
take several attempts. Jonah would be needed topside. She must take care of
Daniel by herself.

“Lord, help me,”
she said once more. “Daniel, hold on.”

He clung to her
neck and wrapped his legs around her waist. When the bow of the ship rose
again, she let gravity roll them to the cabin door. Before the vessel dipped
forward, she gathered her strength and made the passage, slamming and locking the
door behind her.

In the cabin
cubicle, the Hillermans clutched one another, each grimacing in pain. When they
saw Leah and Daniel, both broke into grateful weeping and reached out to
receive their son. Leah let herself be drawn into the family’s embrace. But in
this terrifying time, how she longed to be in the arms of her own brave
husband.

Leah slumped
against the railing and stared across the calm waters. Her heart felt like a
stone in her chest. Behind her, the setting sun cast flames of red and orange
and purple over the glassy Pacific Ocean and the now-distant shores of southern
Chile. After seemingly endless hours of being tossed about by violent waves,
Destiny’s
Hope
had been thrust from the Straits of Magellan like a toy being
discarded by a petulant child. Mild Pacific breezes filled the sails, moving
the ship toward the South Pacific island that would be Leah’s home.