Page 55 of Until My Last Breath

Captain Walker’s expression was one of confidence. “Gentlemen, theUlyssesis a very fast ship. We have an experienced crew, which I trust completely. I would say without doubt that when we receive a positive reply by morning, we will be ready to sail, at the latest, at sunset tomorrow, perhaps even earlier. If we have good winds and favourable weather, we should reach the island by the following morning.”

The loud noise of sighs filled the room. Darcy felt hope growing in his chest again.

As nothing else could be done until morning, Captain Walker encouraged them to stay on board and rest, which was gladly accepted. Darcy, Richard and Dr Alden would share the guest cabin, while Mr Lynch would share one with the rest of the crew.

Dr Alden checked on Darcy’s bandages again and helped him to change into his night clothes before going to rest.

Lying in his berth, Darcy looked beside him and saw his tired cousin already snoring. He could only imagine how exhausted Richard must be after such a busy and stressful day.

But Darcy could not rest. Elizabeth was out there, a hostage of evil and unscrupulous men. His concerns for her had been so intense that he did not even remember feeling any pain since arriving in Portsmouth.

He forced his thoughts to the captain’s reassuring words and hoped that morning would bring the news he was hoping for. He also prayed for her safety and begged the Lord to give him the strength to hope and believe they still could find her.

~ ♥ ~

Elizabeth was feeling sick. The movements of the boat were like ahammer hitting her head and stomach; the rope around her wrist scraping deep into her flesh. And if those things were not enough, she was fuming with anger and indignation. She had heard the conversation between Mr Fisher and Mr Wickham.

“So, he is taking me back to my family,” she muttered bitterly.

She sat on the berth and tried to calm herself. Losing control would not help.

Looking around, she noticed her cabin for the first time. It was very simple. There was a small table with a washing bowl, a dirty chamber pot, and the small berth where she was now lying. She grimaced at the smelly hay mattress and blankets. The thought of being forced to live under these conditions, enslaved, submitting herself to every whim of cruel men, brought back those persistent tears. At that moment, alone in the world, she could not hold them back anymore.

A loud thunder startled her. In a matter of minutes, the boat started rocking violently. A strong storm had reached them, throwing the moored boats against each other. The mixture of sounds was deafening.

Elizabeth could only pray now.

When the day finally broke, the news was the worst possible. Mr Fisher informed Mr Wickham they would not be able to sail until he could repair some of the damage, and if the storm did not abate, not even after that. “It seems today is not your lucky day.”

Wickham shut the small door after Mr Fisher left. “Damn!” he shouted, cursing and cursing again, until his throat grew sore. “If only I had not been so greedy.”

Digory, the pirate Brown had instructed him to contact in London, had given him enough money to hire a good boat. But Wickham had the brilliant idea of hiring a smaller vessel, saving the difference. After all, it was not as if he was swimming in gold.

Well, now he was paying a much higher price.

As the hours passed, his idleness only added to his distress. He decided to go and pay Miss Elizabeth a visit. He knew she would not welcome him, but the worst she could do was to ignore or attack him. Inboth cases, he could easily cope with her, considering she was tied to her berth.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, unlocking the door to her cabin and entering, putting his handkerchief over his mouth and nose. The smell there was repulsive, much worse than in his own cabin.

Elizabeth sat up on the berth narrowing her murderous eyes. She was about to send him to hell, when she thought better of it. There were many questions to which she still had no answers.

“Well, well, if it is not my favourite travel companion. Make yourself comfortable, Mr Wickham. Perhaps you can find a place to sit on, well… the dirty chamber pot or this smelly, decayed mattress.”

He had the decency to blush, then smiled, trying his old charming tricks. “I thought about keeping you company. It has been a long day.”

“I would rather enjoy being stricken by scarlet fever than having you as company, Mr Wickham,” said Elizabeth calmly. “But considering my situation, I do not think I have a choice, do I? I am tied to this berth and nowhere to go. Why do you not untie me and then we can talk?”

“Ah. But this is your own fault, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Are you afraid of me, Mr Wickham? I am not even armed,” she said, looking at his boot where the sheath of his small knife could be seen.

Wickham laughed nervously, following her eyes. “Let me just say that I do not gamble anymore.”

“About that,” Elizabeth started. “I was wondering. The house where we were imprisoned. Did it belong to a friend of yours? Seeing the other men, simpletons as they were, they could not boast such good connections, could they?”

Wickham smiled, missing the hidden sarcasm. Suddenly, he seemed too eager to talk and forget their circumstances, grabbing the opportunity as a dog would grab a meaty bone.

“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth. You are very perceptive. That house belonged to a very rich widow. Lady Margaret Wilson. Despite being… well, much older than me, she and I were… close.” He swallowed hard and his expression darkened. “Unfortunately, she passed away at the beginning of this year. That was when my luck turned sour.” He moved closer to the small porthole, admiring it as if it was a very fine piece of art.

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