Heart Of The Storm. Mary Burton
him well. It had also led to his court-martial. What made you great was your undoing, the admiral had said to him. “Remember, if I’m not back in ten, leave.”
Timothy wiped water from his face. “I won’t leave without you.”
“You just celebrated your twentieth birthday and you and Callie are to wed in less than a week. Ten minutes, Tim, and I expect you to start rowing.”
Just then the freighter shifted, pitching Ben forward. He nearly dropped the lantern. Wood splintered and cracked somewhere on the vessel. He gripped the railing, his muscles bunching under his thick cable-knit sweater and dark jacket. His iron grip kept him from falling headfirst into the ocean. The lantern light nearly went out.
Timothy’s face was pale and panicked in the lantern light. “Please, sir, give it up. The ship is going to break up.”
Water dripped from his nose as Ben glared down at his assistant. “Ten minutes.”
Without another word, he strode across the badly sloping deck. By the time he reached the hatchway that led below, rainwater had drenched his black pea coat. Turning the knob, he shoved open the hatch.
He held up the light. Three feet of black ocean water lapped against the third rung of the ladder. Outside the wind howled.
“Hello down there!” he called. Silence.
Debris floated past three doorways that fed into the hallway. Two on the left and one on the right.
Seconds passed as he strained to hear. “Hello!” he shouted again. Nothing.
Perhaps Timothy was right.
Everyone was gone or dead.
Ben turned on the ladder ready to climb above deck when he heard the muffled scream. At first he thought it was a trick of the wind.
But he stopped and listened. The wail returned, sounding more human—and more feminine—than before. But a woman aboard a freighter didn’t make sense.
“Hello down there,” he shouted.
The screaming stopped and for a moment there was only silence. Then he heard, “Is someone out there?”
The woman’s voice was unmistakable.
“Yes! I’m here,” he shouted.
“Thank God! Please help me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the cabin on the right.” Her voice sounded broken, as if she’d been sobbing. “They locked me in.”
Ben raised the lantern and looked around for something he could use to break the door. He spotted an ax hanging on a wall by the stairs.
Ben grabbed the ax off its peg, hung the lantern in its place and climbed down the ladder. Raising the ax high over his head, he started to wade into the hallway. The eerie creaks and sways of the dying ship echoed around him. “I’m coming for you.”
The woman began to pound her door harder. “Hurry, the cabin is filling with water.”
Ben pushed past the floating debris. His limbs tingled from the cold. He tried the knob on the door. It was indeed locked.
“Please don’t leave me.” The woman’s desperation punctuated every syllable.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Step back,” Ben shouted. “I’ll have to cut my way through the door.
He heard the splash of water. “I’m away from the door.”
Ben’s shoulders ached and the weight of his damp clothes made it nearly impossible for him to raise his arms over his head in the narrow hallway. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d lose feeling in his feet in the cold waters.
The lantern swayed and flickered in the wind behind him. Gritting his teeth, he jerked the ax back an extra inch then drove it with every bit of force left in his body. The blade sliced through the door as if it were butter. Ben yanked the ax free and drove it again into the door. Soon the door snapped in two.
Immediately water from the hallway rushed into the cabin. He heard the woman scream. Dropping the ax, he bolted into the darkened cabin.
The river of seawater knocked Rachel off balance.
She tumbled backward. Salt water filled her mouth and nose as her arms flayed around. She didn’t know what was up or down as she groped wildly for something to grab onto.
For all her desperate plans of escape, she feared she was going to die. Peter would have smiled at the irony. He’d always said he’d kill her if she tried to leave.
Strong hands banded around her arms and hauled her forward above the surface of the water. She sucked in a breath.
Her eyes burning, she stared at the silhouette of a very large man. Hints of lantern light from the hallway flickered on chiseled features and black eyes.
The cold had seeped through her dress and sapped her strength. Her teeth chattered. Her hair, in a long thick plait down her back, draped over her shoulder like a wet rope.
“Is there anyone else?” His voice was deep, rusty and full of authority.
“I don’t think so. I heard them lower the lifeboats hours ago. I screamed but no one came.”
The man muttered a savage oath. The boat shifted then, knocking her off balance and into his chest. Warmth and energy radiated from him. And for just the faintest moment she felt safe.
His strong fingers gripped her arm and he pushed her toward the door. “Let’s go,” he ordered. “We don’t have much time before she’s completely flooded.”
Wading across the tiny room in waist-deep water and then down the hallway took every ounce of strength left in Rachel’s body. The weight of her skirts added to the burden of every step.
When they reached the ladder leading to the deck above, the boat tilted and groaned again. Water rushed down the ladder. She fell back into the stranger.
He wrapped strong fingers around her shoulders. “Move, or we both will die here,” he growled in her ear.
He placed his hands around her narrow waist and propelled her forward through the icy waterfall. The thick wool of her dress was completely soaked and it clung to her body like a second skin.
Rachel coughed as she stumbled forward to the upper deck. She sucked in a deep breath.
The rain had slowed. In the distance she saw the lighthouse beacon. There, she’d be safe. But it was so far away.
The deck above was sloping badly now, and each time she tried to stand, her foot caught in her drenched hem. The stranger grabbed her elbow and jerked her up.
“I can’t walk. My skirts are so heavy.” Lord, but she sounded weak. The cold night air pricked her skin.
“We’re almost there.” Urgency laced each word. “Just a few more yards.”
She forced herself to remain standing. “I am not going to die now. I’ve come too far. I’ve come too far.” She hadn’t realized she’d chanted the words out loud until he spoke.
“Aye, we’ve both come too far to die now.” He pushed his shoulder into her midsection and lifted her up off the ground. His shoulder dug into her belly and she could barely breathe.
He dashed across the deck until he reached the railing.
She caught a glimpse of the ocean below. A small boat bobbed in the water. The black seas churned.
She gripped his wet coat with her frozen fingers. “I can’t swim!” she shouted.
“I can.”
He tossed her over the side