She was still at the rails when Vancouver returned. They didn’t have lanterns, hadn’t been equipped to stay out after sunset, and so the men rowed against the night wind in darkness. The sailors’ voices, worn and sharpened by their long day ashore, mingled with the lapping of the waves against the hull, and Ravenna listened frantically, trying to hear the difference between them, trying to discern Paul’s accent from the rest.
It was only when they came alongside that she felt relief, for she heard James clearly, telling the men to toss their oars.
As the marines began to appear on deck, she waited urgently to see Paul’s face. He’ll be cold, she thought. He’d taken no coat in the midst of Vancouver’s fit, and doubtless, he’d be grumbling about what a bastard the captain had been.
But when Vancouver came up, he was strangely quiet. He barely even glanced at Ravenna near the rail. Mr. Orchard, having taken the lantern from the watchman, held it soberly as he and Vancouver went below. The other officers and sailors streamed onto the ship, and as they went about their business with grim expressions, she imagined Vancouver had partaken in scoldings, that he’d punished all the men for Paul’s disobedience.
Soon the deck had cleared of sailors. Ravenna battled with herself for patience, telling herself that Paul would give her a report on Vancouver’s furthering madness when he came aboard, when the boats were raised.
But they never were.
When James reached the deck, there was something amiss in his face, Ravenna thought. His brow seemed too rigid. His eyes, always full of that characteristic warmth and flashing dark, now seemed dull when he glanced at her, lifeless when he looked away.
He paused by the railing, and Ravenna drew in a quick breath, for when James approached her, his arms outstretched to take her up close, blackness crept into the corners of her vision.
She knew fear then, real and desperate, as if the earth had opened up beneath her feet. Her heart squeezed hard; in a mindless rush of understanding, she felt James crush her tight to his chest, heard him whisper some nonsense in the softest breaking voice that Paul was dead, Paul was dead…
Ravenna shook him off. Digging her fists into his height, she pushed him back a step, staring up at him. Surely he’s wrong, cruelly and stupidly, terribly wrong.
Yet there was no denying the truth in his eyes, in the crumple of his chin as he struggled to compose himself.