Read Voices Beckon, Pt. 1: The Voyage Page 9


  DAVID LAY STILL, his eyes shut as he tried to put a name to his surroundings. His head pounded, every muscle in his body, clenched rigid against the cold, ached. His teeth chattered, poking away at the ache in his head. The cold . . . the sea! His eyes flew open as he raised his head. There was something he needed to recall.

  No, the pain . . . he quickly fell back, turning his head to his side, retching. Someone, his uncle maybe, murmured words of comfort as he cleaned him. He tried to concentrate, tried; there was something important he should know. The effort was too much. He slipped back under.

  Later, minutes, maybe hours, he woke to the smell of soup. Someone put a spoon full of it to his mouth. He felt his stomach heave again; nothing left to vomit, vomited anyway, felt the cloth around his face. He turned his head away from the smell. No more, didn’t want more. Soft hands.

  Someone was talking quietly; he couldn’t make out the words. Soft hands, soft words, then nothing but blackness.

  No, no water. Didn’t want anything. Stop. Hurt.

  Again, he surrendered, welcoming the blackness.

  “DAVID, DAVID? Come on, mate. It’s been more than two days now, ye need to wake up. Ye’re worrying me, man.”

  Liam. He tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Two days? Why? Not possible.

  “David, if ye can hear me, press my hand,” Liam said as he grabbed David’s hand between his own two.

  He made an effort, but his fingers wouldn’t move. Tried to open his eyes. Maybe just looking through his lashes wouldn’t bring that awful pain. Nay, not worth the effort. He tried his fingers again.

  “Elisabeth, he moved!”

  Loud. He winced, then he felt a soft hand across his brow, smoothing back his hair, and a cloth moving gently round his face.

  “I’ll go find the Reverend. He’s only just left. I’ll be right back,” she said. “You’ll stay with him?”

  Silence. David moved his fingers again, stronger this time, questioning.

  “Aye, well, ye remember the storm coming, I expect. Sean had come up on deck to find us. He wanted to try his hand at fishing, ken. Sick as he was.”

  David tried his fingers again, an urgent press.

  “He’s fine now, Davey, no small thanks to ye. Don’t be worrying over him. Mr. O has him chained to his side. Otherwise ye’d find yourself sharing that bunk, so troubled is he that ye may not wake. When ye got us back to the ship, some of the crew were waiting to hoist us up. Story is, I went under again, you dove to fetch me. When ye brought me up, a huge swell claimed the both of us. Ye ended with your head slammed against the side, the both of us headed under again ‘fore the sailors took hold and hauled us in. Sean and I, we recovered by the next day, but the storm still kept us down. Ye, on the other hand . . . .” Liam stopped, his voice breaking.

  David tensed, the terror of those few moments washing over him afresh.

  “I don’t mind telling ye, Davey, we’ve all been worried. That’s a harsh way to get the lass’s attention. Once they let her down here, she’s only left your side to tend to her Da. The storm made him awfully sick,” Liam said, curling his fingers tightly around David’s hand.

  “That was a damn fool thing to do Davey, and I . . . I thank ye for it.”

  David returned the pressure, then surrendered again to the blackness.

  ELISABETH TIPTOED BACK into her cabin just before her father woke. She’d spent the night in steerage, helping the Reverend and Liam with David. Liam had tried to convince her to sleep in the berth, “only to keep the lad warm Lisbeth, no one can find fault with that. Ye’ve more padding than the rest of us when the ship tosses him.” But she didn’t, as much as she wanted to. She contented herself with rubbing his hands to warm them and sponging his face to cool his forehead and keep him clean as he continued to vomit up whatever remained in his stomach. He didn’t wake all night long, but she thought his fever broke.

  She’d been so frightened when she found out what had happened. Reverend Wilson had told her that at the onset of the storm Paul had stuck his head out the hatch door to look for Sean and had had just enough time to see David go over the side before his mother grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back in. He’d told his mother what he’d seen, and she had gone to Wilson.

  She knew the German mothers on board had a soft spot for David and Liam, both of whom had spent hours below entertaining the children with games and card tricks. They were doing what they could to help David recover.

  She prayed they knew more of how to go about that than she did.

  ANOTHER DAY, another night; still, he was down.

  “Elisabeth, are you leaving?” Papa asked from his bunk.

  “I’m going to get you some broth, Papa. You should try to keep something down now that you’re feeling better.”

  “Later, not now, Beth. Now I just want to sleep. Thank you for keeping me company. You’re a good daughter,” he said, his voice trailing off, his eyes closing.

  She hoped he still felt that way in a few days when he was up, hearing the talk that was making its way through this ship.

  Should she sleep as well? No, how could she, as worried as she was. Grabbing a book from the shelf, she headed to the kitchen to talk the cook out of some broth. The Reverend had told her David had kept some water down last evening. So far he had yet to speak, but he was waking briefly. That had to be a good sign. Please, Lord.

  The cook gave her a broad smile as she entered the kitchen. “Aye, Miss Elisabeth! Cap’ says to give ye my best for your Da. Here it is a’waiting. More than enough for ye, too. And how is Mr. Hale?”

  “He’s much better. He’s sleeping now. Thank you, Mr. Grimes,” she said, reaching for the soup.

  “Sleeping, eh? Well, he can’t eat if he’s sleeping, can he then? Here, I think the lad may be wanting something to settle his stomach ‘bout now. This will surely tempt him. Have him eat the broth while it still be warm,” he said with a wink, handing her a loaf of fresh bread. It smelled wonderful. “I hear he’s keeping water down now. That’s a good sign.”

  Elisabeth looked at him, opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, not sure of what to say.

  The cook laughed. “Come back later. There’ll be more waiting for your da.”

  “Thank you, and I’ll thank the Captain for this,” she said, smiling as she backed her way out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, I’m thinking we’ll keep the Captain out of this, if it all be the same to you.”

  She hoped God didn’t judge her too harshly for all the deceit she’d carried out these last few days. And now she was taking food from the Captain’s table. But David would never get better if he didn’t start eating something. The aroma of the food roused even her stomach to attention, making her wonder when she had last eaten.

  “DAVEY, LOOK what an angel has brought us!”

  Elisabeth looked up, her heart jumping to her throat. “David, you’re awake!”

  “No’ sure; thought I smelled fresh bread, likely dreaming.”

  “This looks to be straight from the Captain’s table, Davey. I think it really is bread, fresh bread. Can ye believe it? It pays to have friends in high places, aye?”

  “To be sure. Hello, Elisabeth.”

  Warm brown eyes met hers as Liam helped him sit up. She looked away, hastily busying herself with the food. “Good morning.” Good heavens, why was she flustered? Surely he couldn’t remember if her hands lingered as she had soothed him and cleaned him. Nor the prayers she had whispered. Could he?

  She handed the food to Liam and climbed on the berth. “Where’s your cup, Liam?” He pointed, and she poured some broth into it and handed it to him. “Eat.”

  She turned to David with her bowl. He grimaced each time she held the broth to his mouth, his eyes not meeting hers. But he swallowed. Was he embarrassed? Or would he rather someone else held the bowl? She looked toward Sarah’s berth, finding her fast asleep. The poor girl had been suffering alone for days, vomiting whenever she woke, though s
he scorned Elisabeth’s offer of water last night, so maybe she wasn’t completely alone. Annie was up and around a little, she likely cared for her. It was certainly not her father. He’d been insensible with drink since the storm. Well, it wasn’t her concern. Sarah had certainly made that clear since the cèilidh.

  She broke off a few chunks of bread and put them in David’s hand.

  “Make shares, Lisbeth. I havena seen ye eat in days,” Liam said, reaching for the piece she handed him.

  She did, taking as small a portion as she could.

  After the last bite, David lay back down, looking at Liam. “Liam, go on deck for a spell for me, will ye? Your stories are getting stale. Ye need some new tales.”

  “Aye, well, I could be using a wee bit of fresh air, if ye’re sure you’re not needing me for anything.”

  “Go!” David said.

  Liam grinned, jumping off the berth. “I’ll send the Rev’rend, Lisbeth.”

  “You’ve a friend for life, you know,” Elisabeth said quietly, climbing down from the bunk after Liam had left.

  “Aye, I know, one I be proud to claim.” He moved gingerly, readjusting his position, closing his eyes. “Don’t go, Lisbeth.” He reached out a hand, and she took it in hers. “Can ye stay? Will ye read?”

  “Yes, of course I will. I’ve brought a book.”

  “I enjoy hearing your voice. Start where they bring Gull’ver to the city gates.”

  She had thought him asleep, but he had known the book, had known where she had left off. He did want her here.

  “Of course.” She let go of his hand and sat, opening the book to read aloud.

  “The emperor, and all his court, came out to meet us; but his great officers would by no means suffer his majesty to endanger his person by mounting on my body . . .”

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