The Courteous Cad (41 page)

Sarah Carlyle, Lady Delacroix, dipped a silver spoon into her tea and gave it a stir. As she gazed from her deck chair upon the fair scene of lapping waves and sapphire sky that stretched out before her, she could not imagine herself any happier. Her quest had succeeded admirably.

In China, Sarah had encountered the most admirable woman of her acquaintance, a teacher whose efforts to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ had met with much success. In Burma, a young missionary couple had welcomed Sarah into their hearts and home. In India, she had spent three weeks in the company of missionaries laboring to translate and print the Scriptures as well as to minister in body and spirit to the unsaved. While most of Africa remained darkened by sin and its villainies, Sarah had every hope of sponsoring those who would take the light of salvation to the green shores of that continent.

As she took a sip of steaming tea, Sarah closed her eyes and allowed a sense of well-being to flow through her. God had permitted her to endure many hardships in order to teach her the truths she now embraced with wholehearted devotion. She thought of her late father, Mr. Gerald Watson, an ambitious and ruthless opium merchant, who had taught his three daughters that while money might buy power, it could purchase neither respect nor honor. Position and esteem belonged to those born of aristocratic lineage, Mr. Watson had insisted—men such as George Carlyle, Lord Delacroix.

Determined that his descendants might experience the privileges of the peerage, Sarah’s father had arranged the marriage of his eldest daughter to the penniless baron. She and Lord Delacroix were married for less than a year before her husband’s unexpected demise in a carriage accident. Before his death, the dissipated and impoverished baron had taught his much younger wife that the admiration and deference due the aristocracy were worth little without the money to enjoy them. Yet Sarah—who now lived with the privilege of title her father had desired and the wealth her husband had coveted—had discovered that neither of these two gleaming grails brought happiness.

Ambition had made her father heartless, while poverty had bequeathed her husband insecurity and self-loathing. A quest for position and money brought out unpleasant qualities in everyone she met, Sarah had learned. Women fawned over her with words of false admiration in hopes of earning the privilege of an invitation to be seen in her company. Men fairly stumbled over their own feet as they scrambled to win a place on her dance card, the favor of her presence in their opera box, or—the grandest prize of all—her hand in marriage. And what had all this wealth and admiration given her? Nothing but false friends and utter loneliness.

Sighing deeply, Sarah opened her eyes and gazed out at the endless expanse of turquoise sea. The
Queen Elinor
’s white sails billowed overhead as the wind propelled her across the Indian Ocean toward England. Toward home and family. Yet only in the past months of solitary travel had Sarah discovered true joy.

Her Savior had been so right when He told His disciples how difficult it was for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven, she reflected as she took another sip of tea. When a wealthy young man had asked Jesus what he must do to be saved, the Lord had told him to sell all his possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow Christ. Jesus—and He alone—had taught Sarah the truth. She must cast off the privileges that came with her position in society. She must divest herself of the wealth that weighed like a millstone about her neck. She must give up everything she owned, all that she might claim as hers, and surrender to the crucified and risen Christ.

Traveling throughout the Orient, Sarah had done just that. And how happy and free she now felt. Not only had she disbursed large sums to various worthy recipients, but she had identified various other causes that would help her be rid of the remainder of the vast fortune with which her father had saddled her. Upon returning to England, she would resume her philanthropic quest. Orphanages, schools, printing presses—

“Sail, oh!” A cry from the crow’s nest scattered Sarah’s contemplative musings. “Sail, oh!”

“Where away?” came the response from below.

As the bearings were called out, Sarah rose from her chair and hurried to the ship’s rail along with everyone else who had been lolling about the deck. Endless days of looking at nothing but the sea brought on a strange, hypnotic torpor, and all were eager to break its spell.

“Is it a friendly vessel?” Sarah asked a young man who was studying the horizon through his spyglass. Clad in the regimentals of the Royal Navy, he and several other officers aboard were responsible for protecting the
Queen Elinor
, one of the most reliable barks in the East India Company’s vast merchant fleet.

Sarah leaned her elbows on the rail and peered at the ship in the distance. “Can you make out her flag, sir?”

“Dash it all, I can hardly hold the glass steady with these infernal waves tossing us about so.”

“Dear me. You address the sea with much vehemence, my good man. Are these particular waves truly worthy of your linguistic efforts?”

The officer glanced at her. “Oh, Lady Delacroix,” he gulped, straightening to attention and squaring his shoulders. “Forgive my poor manners, madam. I thought perhaps another of the passengers had spoken. Uh . . . would you . . . would you care to look through my spyglass?”

“You bestow your fine manners on some and save your ill ones for others, do you?” she asked with a smile. “For myself, I think it best to attempt politeness to everyone.”

“Yes, Lady Delacroix. Of course. You are absolutely correct.”

“I am glad to see that we concur, sir. And now if you would return to your glass, I should very much like to know what sort of ship shares our corner of the ocean. I hope it is not pirates.”

The poor fellow threw out his chest and fairly barked his response. “Madam, I assure you that any East India Company vessel is more than prepared to defend itself from such marauders. You must have no misgivings on that account.”

Sarah laughed. “And why do you suppose I booked passage on just such a vessel? But please, sir, do look through your spyglass ere we both die of curiosity!”

He snapped to obey, but before he could report, the good news rang out. The ship flew an English flag! No one could make out more, and speculation fluttered like seagulls across the deck. Pirates sometimes hoisted friendly flags to deceive unsuspecting ships. Could it be an enemy in disguise? Was it a vessel of the Royal Navy perhaps—a man-of-war patrolling the coastal waters? Or might it be another East Indiaman?

And suddenly news of greater import descended. The clipper was cloaked in a veil of smoke. It must be engaged in a sea battle! But where was the opposing vessel? A mixture of shock and thrill raced around the deck.

“Our captain alters course,” the officer noted grimly. “The wind is at east-northeast, and we tack to larboard.”

Sarah glanced at the wheelhouse. “We go to assist the English clipper?”

“Aye, madam,” he confirmed as the sails began to shake. “It must be so, for the captain brings the
Queen Elinor
eastward, and soon we shall head to wind. With more rudder, he will have her facing southeast.”

Sarah gripped the rail as the full-rigged bark performed the elaborate maneuver and then began an agonizingly slow trek toward the besieged clipper.

“She is definitely engaged,” the officer reported while observing the conflict through his spyglass. “I fear the English vessel is aflame. And now I make out another ship . . . just starboard . . . aye, there she is. . . . Great guns and ghosts— ’tis pirates indeed!”

“Sail, oh!” came the cry from the crow’s nest. “Sail, oh!”

Now the captain emerged from the wheelhouse, and the young officer excused himself and hurried to join his fellow Royal Navy men who were forming ranks beneath the mainsail. The ship’s mates scrambled to prepare the
Queen Elinor
, while ashen-faced passengers huddled together near the galley in earnest discussion of the situation.

Still at the deck rail, Sarah tightened the bow on her bonnet. Difficulties, she had learned, were to be expected in the life of every Christian. And thus, with the smell of gunpowder stinging her nostrils, she began to pray.