Charlotte focused on the pain in the side of her face and kept her eyes fixed on the horizon beyond the starboard side of the ship. Anything to keep from looking at the five bodies, sewn into their hammocks, laid out on the deck.

Captain Parker, Lieutenant Howe, Lieutenant Crump, a sailor from one of Martin’s gun crews, and a marine sharpshooter who’d been shot and fallen from his perch on the mizzenmast top. And according to Hamilton, Dr. Hawthorne thought a few of the injured might not live through the night. Her throat tightened to the point she could hardly breathe. She flinched when the boatswain’s whistle signaled for all hands to gather on the deck. She took her place between Jamison and McLellan.

Ned Cochrane stepped into the space between the bodies and the bulwark. He looked up at the mainmast, behind Charlotte, and called, “Raise the pennant to honor the dead.”

She did not need to watch the action to know that a black pennant was being hoisted to fly from the highest point on the ship. Ned nodded at the two boatswain’s mates who lifted the first body onto the top of a table from the sailors’ mess and covered it with the Union Jack.

“Ship’s company…off hats!” the bosun yelled.

Charlotte slipped hers off and held it in front of her the way Jamison did. The mates carried the board to the starboard entry port and balanced the end of it atop the bulwark railing.

Ned handed his hat to his steward and opened the small, thick book he carried. “We read in the thirtieth Psalm: ‘Sing unto the LORD, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning… I cried to thee, O LORD; and unto the LORD I made supplication… Hear, O LORD, and have mercy upon me: LORD, be thou my helper. Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.’”

Ned looked up from the book and at the shrouded form ready to be laid to rest in the depths of the ocean. He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes briefly, and then continued. “In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our shipmates, and we commit their bodies to the depths. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless and keep them. The Lord make His face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them. The Lord lift up His countenance upon them and give them peace. Amen.”

“Amen,” Charlotte murmured with the crew. Ned called the name of the marine, and the boatswain’s mates upended the tabletop so the body slid feet first into the sea from under the flag. She could not watch. The same was repeated for the sailor, the lieutenants, and Captain Parker. With two cannonballs placed at each man’s feet, the bodies would sink to the bottom quickly. But her imagination got away from her, and the picture of one of the shrouded figures floating beside the ship chilled her to the bone.

After Captain Parker was laid to rest, Ned turned to face the crew once more. “Let us pray. ‘Our Father which art in heaven…’”

Charlotte joined in the recitation of the familiar and comforting words. “‘Hallowed be thy name…’”

After the murmured “Amen,” Ned left the deck. As soon as he had disappeared into his cabin, the bosun called, “On hats…dismissed!”

Though she was not entirely certain how, or if God would listen to her, Charlotte vowed to pray every night that they would not have to go through that ordeal again.

Ned paced the cabin. His first official duty in front of the entire crew had been to bury their captain. He hoped, he prayed that the problems Howe had shared with him before leaving Portsmouth had worked themselves out once Audacious put to sea. The last thing he needed in his first true command was a divided and antagonistic crew.

He squeezed the object in his hand until the corners bit into his fingers. He lifted the prayer book. A gift from his mother upon his being made lieutenant. Commodore Ransome read his daily, along with his Bible. And when William led the prayer service on Sunday mornings, Ned had always believed, even if just for a little while, that God was near and could not only hear his prayers but might even answer them.

He had read and said the expected words over the dead today, but tomorrow he would have to lead the crew in Sunday services.

Opening the book, he checked the liturgical calendar in the front. Never before had he seen that for each day of the year, the calendar listed Scriptures to be read morning and evening. He glanced around the cabin. Would Parker have kept a Bible? Or, like Ned’s first captain, would he have been the type to read the collects and prayers from the book and leave it at that?

A row of books lined the top of the chest of drawers. Ned moved closer to read the titles. Mostly naval history. Parker’s prayer book. Some biographies of men Ned had never heard of. But no Bible.

Perhaps one of the officers would have one he could borrow. Or, more likely, God was trying to tell him he was not worthy of reading the Holy Scriptures as someone with authority over others. After all, why would God forgive Ned for sending those sailors to their deaths when he could not forgive himself? No, he would read the collects and the prayers. Then, when they arrived in Jamaica and he returned to Alexandra as William’s first officer and someone more deserving took over command of Audacious, the new captain could worry about the eternal welfare of the men on this ship.

He returned to the table and opened the prayer book to the designated page for the fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. He liked the prayer, asking God to increase their faith, hope, and charity. The reading from one of Saint Paul’s epistles was from the book of Galatians, and it spoke of sins of the flesh and fruit of the Spirit. He would have to spend more time reading that to understand it. The excerpt from the Gospels came from Luke.

Pulling the book closer, he read the story of ten lepers who begged Jesus to have mercy on them. Jesus sent them to the priests, and, as they walked away, they were healed. But only one returned to Jesus to thank Him. Ned turned the page, anxious to see how Jesus responded to this man’s humble gratitude. He frowned when he read of Jesus asking the man where his nine companions were.

Ned supposed he had been in the Royal Navy too long to be surprised by the ingratitude of the majority of men.

But he had skipped the last line. Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole.

He rocked back in his chair as if broadsided. It had not been the man’s faith that had rid him of his leprosy. It had been Jesus. Jesus had every right to say, “I accept your gratitude for the wondrous work I have completed in you.” How could a man’s faith heal him, make him whole?

Again, he searched the cabin for a Bible, wanting to see if Jesus went on to explain what He meant by His cryptic statement, but no copy of the Scriptures was to be found.

His head hurt too much already to spend more time trying to figure out what the passage meant. Instead, he went into the sleeping cabin and pulled the box of important papers out of his sea chest and carried it to the table that had served as Parker’s desk. He sorted through them until he found what he was looking for.

The paper was somewhat yellowed and the ink slightly faded, but he read through his promotion orders officially conferring on him the rank of lieutenant. From his pocket, he pulled the folded parchment William had handed him several hours ago. His field promotion to acting captain.

Spreading both out on the table, he found Parker’s stock of paper, ink, and quills, and then he sat down to write up the orders conferring status of acting lieutenant on Hamilton and Martin.

Julia waved William aside. “I can do it myself.”

Hands held up in surrender, he backed away a few steps.

Getting in and out of the hanging bed with its high canvas sides had been difficult to manage with two feet. But now that she could not put any weight onto her right foot, the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning seemed nearly insurmountable. And her husband’s amusement at her attempts to do it on her own was not helping at all.

Yesterday, in the fear from hearing Audacious was under attack, she’d somehow managed to not only get out of the box bed, but grab her dress off the peg on the wall beside it and dress in a matter of minutes. However, she had discovered yesterday that trying to go about her normal daily activities with the use of only one foot proved to be difficult and frustrating.

Seven bells chimed.

“In half an hour I will call all hands to order for prayers. I would like for you to join me. Please let me know if you require my assistance.” With a half bow, William left the sleeping cabin.

Julia blew a loose clump of hair out of her face. She could do this. She had climbed the shrouds to the foremast top at ten years old. Getting out of a hanging bed one-footed should be no problem. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and scooted over to the side, carefully balancing as the other side of the bed canted upward. She moved all of her weight onto her right knee and swung her left leg over the side.

She stretched…reached…success—her toes touched the floor. Shifting her weight to her left foot, she turned to put her right leg over the side.

But she misjudged the fact that with almost all of her weight on her foot of the floor, this side of the bed would come back up. Her right heel caught on the side, but her momentum carried her backward. Arms flailing, she finally managed to grab the side of the bed and break the worst of her fall, but not before wrenching her knee and injured foot, which stayed caught in the bedding as she landed on the deck.

Involuntary tears welled in her eyes from the pain and increased frustration.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” William reappeared and gently extricated her foot from the bed and then sat down on the floor beside her. “I offered to help you.”

“But I need to be able to do it on my own.” Julia dashed at the tears with the back of her hand.

“Why?”

“Because I do not want to…” She shook her head and looked away as the tears refused to stop.

“You do not want…?”

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Success had come in every area of her life as long as she worked hard at it. This would be no different.

William hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to face him. “What do you not want?”

Blinking away the wretched tears, she found herself mere inches from the blue eyes she had dreamed of for nearly two decades. “I do not want to become dependent on you,” she whispered. “I need to be able to take care of myself.”

His nod seemed loaded with comprehension and understanding. “I see.” He moved his hand from her chin to push her hair back and tuck it behind her ear. “I am sorrowed to know that I played a large role in teaching you to trust no one but yourself.” He took and released a deep breath. “Do you know what I will speak of for the prayer service this morning?”

She shook her head.

“God’s faithfulness. How He has promised He will never leave us nor forsake us. And how we are to reflect His faithfulness in our own lives by offering that kind of steadfastness to the ones we love. I know I betrayed your trust twelve years ago, but I promise I will never leave you nor forsake you, and I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that you can depend on me.”

An idyllic picture of William by her side at Tierra Dulce made her smile…but that image faded into one of her standing on a lonely dock waving as a boat rowed him out to his ship. “You will be at sea. And while I know you will always be faithful to me and I can trust in your steadfastness, I must still depend on myself and my strength and knowledge to see me through my daily life.”

A hint of pain flickered through William’s eyes, but he quickly slipped back into his mask of no emotion. “But I am here now, Julia. Let me help you while I can. Let me take the burden from you, if just for a short time, before you shoulder all of your duties and responsibilities.”

She wanted to say no, to turn down his offer, but the ache in her foot and knee stopped her. “Agreed. I will try.”

And she would try even harder to not allow this exercise in marital trust and dependence make her fall even more deeply in love with him than she already was. She could not become like her mother and waste away pining for him, losing more of herself the longer they were apart.

He helped her up and then insisted on assisting her to dress—requesting she wear one of the dresses that laced up the back rather than buttoned, since they were running short on time. After tying the laces, he unplaited her hair, running his fingers through it to remove the tangles.

“I do not have time to do anything with it.”

“Leave it loose,” he whispered in her ear. “You know I prefer it thus.”

A pleasured tingle danced down her spine. “But it will be blowing in my face. Here”—she took the ribbon from him—“I will tie it back, like this.” She gathered it all at the nape of her neck and tied it. “Now…my crutch.”

He handed her the long stick with the short beam across the top that just fitted under her arm. She hopped along with it pretty well, thanks to the practice she’d had with it yesterday. She retrieved her straw bonnet from the hook on the side of the wardrobe. William picked up his prayer book and hat and then offered his arm to Julia. It took a few steps to accustom herself to balancing herself between the crutch and his arm, but she reveled in the relief his support provided.

She had just about determined how she would manage the steps up to the poop deck when William swept her up into his arms and carried her up them. He deposited her in a chair—she recognized it as one of the chairs from the dining cabin—and turned away from her to face the crew now gathering on deck as eight chimes rang out, followed by the bosun’s whistle for all hands.

After her initial indignation, Julia found herself smiling. He knew her well and had avoided another disagreement over her stubbornly insisting she could climb the steps herself with no help by taking the decision out of her hands.

Dawling bustled over with a footstool. She shook her head but did allow him to take her crutch so it was out of the way. With her chair beside William, the lieutenants lined up behind them. She missed Ned’s smiles, but it was good to see Gibson with the white patches removed from his collar and an epaulet on his shoulder indicating his promotion to acting lieutenant.

Hands clasped behind him, William leaned forward, a slight breeze ruffling his hair between hat and collar. “Good morning, crew of Alexandra.”

The crew saluted and shouted their “good morning” back, and everyone removed his hat. As William quoted a verse from the book of Joel, Julia could not keep her eyes from him. Last Sunday, she had not gotten to witness him leading the crew in worship, as he had to use the time to read out the Articles of War, as prescribed by the Admiralty to be done once a month in place of prayers. He read the prayer book and his Bible every morning and, at her request, had taken to reading the passages and prayers aloud so she could have the benefit of them as well. But seeing him standing before more than seven hundred men and quoting Scripture and extolling God’s love for them made Julia’s heart swell with pride.

He moved on to read the Morning Prayers. And though the words had been written by someone else more than a century ago, William’s heart shone through the words. When her father had given the Sunday service aboard Indomitable, it had been perfunctory—very much like the recitation of the Articles of War. For William, this was not merely a performance of his duty as captain of this ship; this was the only time when he allowed his true feelings to be seen by the men under his command…the feelings that stemmed from his love for God.

After the Collect and prayers and Scripture readings and William’s soliloquy, Acting Lieutenant Gibson stepped forward and began singing a hymn. Julia closed her eyes. She had heard many tales of Gibson’s talent, but to hear the rich, deep voice—so incongruous with the young man’s appearance—she knew in that moment what the angel Gabriel must have sounded like when he appeared to Mary and then to the shepherds at the annunciation.

Perhaps, if William were to decide to leave the Royal Navy, he could enter the church and become a rector. In fact, the rector of the Tierra Dulce parish was quite old and could possibly be encouraged to retire if a replacement were readily at hand.

She focused on William again, and the fantasy faded like a wisp of steam. Like her father, William would never be happy away from the Royal Navy. She would do well to remember that, and to also guard her heart for the time when his duty would take him away from her. She must learn to enjoy the times when they were together.

She prayed there would be more reunions than partings.