the water. The only sound was silence, and the only sight murky darkness streaked with orange.
Breath that came so easily before failed him now, and his lungs began to ache. Through the void, a gentle voice whispered something in Josiah’s ear. Something about compassion.
As the blackness overtook him, Josiah heard another voice. This one bid him to curse God and die.
With his last breath, Josiah refused. Then something caught him and thrust him back in the direction from which he’d come.
Chapter 10
Isabelle felt nothing but the boards beneath her feet as she careened blindly down the narrow passageway, the image of Josiah Carter’s plummet into the water fresh in her mind. With the golden glow behind her now, nothing led the way save instinct and prayer.
And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire. . . .
The verse from the book of Jude rang in her ears as she pressed forward. She must find the mademoiselles.
Banging on door after door, she made her way toward the end of one passageway only to turn and go back. Time and time again, she repeated the process, searching in vain for the place where the captain had incarcerated her companions.
The captain.
Unless the Lord intervened, the man most likely would not survive his mission of rescue. From her hiding place behind the wheelhouse, she’d heard the shouts of approval when the young sailor dropped to safety. She’d also heard the man called Harrigan express the difficulty of bringing the captain down alive.
The sound of the crew pronouncing the man’s imminent passing sent her feet flying. Should Josiah Carter perish in the fall as the crew predicted, the fate of all women aboard would be. . .
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.
Gradually feelings returned. Stabs of pain needled at her knuckles, and more than once, she doubled over to cough the black smoke from her lungs. Finally, she dropped to her knees at the end of yet another empty passageway and rested her face in her hands, tears scalding her raw, bleeding fingers as they rolled from her eyes onto the ruined lace fabric of her skirt.
And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire. . . .
“But, Lord, I tried,” she whispered as she rose and wiped the tears away. “I can’t find them.”
“Are you looking for the ladies, miss?”
Isabelle gasped and lifted her head. A small figure stood a few yards hence, silhouetted in the gentle radiance of a single candle.
“I frightened you,” he said, his voice all too young for the age it held. “I’m sorry.”
Upon closer inspection, the individual looked to be a lad of no more than a decade, wearing a miniature version of the trousers and flowing shirt favored by the captain and crew. But what would a boy be doing wandering the passageways of a ship in danger of burning to the waterline at any moment?
He held the candle high, casting a shadow on his full cheekbones and curious stare. Raven curls framed an oval face, and a pair of wide eyes the color of an angry silver sky stared back through a thick fringe of dark lashes.
Strange, but his presence bore some familiarity.
For a moment, Isabelle thought he might be an angel. Then he sneezed and wiped his nose on the hem of his shirt.
“Are you looking for the ladies?” he repeated.
Words failed. She nodded, hoping he could see her.
“They’re fit and well.” He paused. “You’re worried. Don’t be. Miss Emilie sent me to ease your concerns.”
Isabelle shook her head and willed her voice into cooperation. Many questions materialized; she gave voice to only two. “Who are you,” she mumbled, “and how do you know of my friends?”
The boy grinned and thrust a small hand toward her. She quickly accepted his greeting.
“I am William.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, William,” she said, noting the warmth of his little hand and the confidence with which he carried himself. This was no average young boy.
Breath that came so easily before failed him now, and his lungs began to ache. Through the void, a gentle voice whispered something in Josiah’s ear. Something about compassion.
As the blackness overtook him, Josiah heard another voice. This one bid him to curse God and die.
With his last breath, Josiah refused. Then something caught him and thrust him back in the direction from which he’d come.
Chapter 10
Isabelle felt nothing but the boards beneath her feet as she careened blindly down the narrow passageway, the image of Josiah Carter’s plummet into the water fresh in her mind. With the golden glow behind her now, nothing led the way save instinct and prayer.
And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire. . . .
The verse from the book of Jude rang in her ears as she pressed forward. She must find the mademoiselles.
Banging on door after door, she made her way toward the end of one passageway only to turn and go back. Time and time again, she repeated the process, searching in vain for the place where the captain had incarcerated her companions.
The captain.
Unless the Lord intervened, the man most likely would not survive his mission of rescue. From her hiding place behind the wheelhouse, she’d heard the shouts of approval when the young sailor dropped to safety. She’d also heard the man called Harrigan express the difficulty of bringing the captain down alive.
The sound of the crew pronouncing the man’s imminent passing sent her feet flying. Should Josiah Carter perish in the fall as the crew predicted, the fate of all women aboard would be. . .
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.
Gradually feelings returned. Stabs of pain needled at her knuckles, and more than once, she doubled over to cough the black smoke from her lungs. Finally, she dropped to her knees at the end of yet another empty passageway and rested her face in her hands, tears scalding her raw, bleeding fingers as they rolled from her eyes onto the ruined lace fabric of her skirt.
And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire. . . .
“But, Lord, I tried,” she whispered as she rose and wiped the tears away. “I can’t find them.”
“Are you looking for the ladies, miss?”
Isabelle gasped and lifted her head. A small figure stood a few yards hence, silhouetted in the gentle radiance of a single candle.
“I frightened you,” he said, his voice all too young for the age it held. “I’m sorry.”
Upon closer inspection, the individual looked to be a lad of no more than a decade, wearing a miniature version of the trousers and flowing shirt favored by the captain and crew. But what would a boy be doing wandering the passageways of a ship in danger of burning to the waterline at any moment?
He held the candle high, casting a shadow on his full cheekbones and curious stare. Raven curls framed an oval face, and a pair of wide eyes the color of an angry silver sky stared back through a thick fringe of dark lashes.
Strange, but his presence bore some familiarity.
For a moment, Isabelle thought he might be an angel. Then he sneezed and wiped his nose on the hem of his shirt.
“Are you looking for the ladies?” he repeated.
Words failed. She nodded, hoping he could see her.
“They’re fit and well.” He paused. “You’re worried. Don’t be. Miss Emilie sent me to ease your concerns.”
Isabelle shook her head and willed her voice into cooperation. Many questions materialized; she gave voice to only two. “Who are you,” she mumbled, “and how do you know of my friends?”
The boy grinned and thrust a small hand toward her. She quickly accepted his greeting.
“I am William.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, William,” she said, noting the warmth of his little hand and the confidence with which he carried himself. This was no average young boy.
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