I THINK JONATHAN MAY BE FEVERISH.” Ann told Isabel when she returned to the deck.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Isabel replied. “He was so excited today. But if that is a pirate ship out there…”
She broke off, and thoughts of pirates—looting, killing, maurauding, kidnapping—troubled their minds.
“We are a poor lot,” Ann said. “The Spanish ships would be better game.”
“But the pirates have no way of knowing that,” Isabel said. “Besides, poor as we are ourselves, the ship may carry a rich cargo, for all we know.”
As the men dispersed from the captain’s deck, Ann and Isabel stood waiting for their fathers to join them, eager to hear the latest speculation.
“Ye shouldn’t be above deck,” William cautioned. “Cap’n Murdock advises all women and children to stay below until further notice.”
“Is it a pirate ship, then?”
“He fears so, since the vessel flies no flag. But he has hope that our presence will prevent its attack on the Regent.”
“In any case,” Tom Prentiss added, “it is unlikely that anything will happen before dawn, and we are prepared.”
“Will ye be armed?” Mary Prentiss asked fearfully, and her husband nodded and touched her arm in a comforting gesture.
“Where is Mr. Craighead?” Ann asked, suddenly realizing he was not among the men. Lately she had found herself noting his whereabouts, as if his presence were somehow reassuring.
“He stayed to meet further with the captain,” William replied. “But come, now, ‘tis pitch-dark, and ye need to get some rest. I’ll see ye below.”
When they reached their quarters, Jonathan was already asleep, but his face was flushed, and he was breathing harshly through his open mouth.
“I don’t like the way he looks,” Ann said, but William did not seem to share her concern.
“Likely it’s just the excitement, and the boy will be fine tomorrow. I’ll take a pallet up on deck and bed there tonight. Try not to worry,” he added, but his own face was drawn and Ann knew that he, too, was missing Sarah, who would have known just what to do for the boy.
“Do ye think he has the fever like the Fletcher’s bairns?” she asked Mrs. Prentiss when she dropped in to check on Jonathan.
“Might be,” Mary Prentiss replied, laying a practiced hand on his brow. “Wet a cloth and wring it out and put it to his forehead to bring the fever ‘round. Keep his lips dressed wi’ lard—the sailors can give you some—and see that he has as much of water and gruel as ye can get down his gullet.”
“How are the Fletchers?” Ann asked.
Mrs. Prentiss paused and shook her head. “’Tis hard to say. The little one is taken bad, I fear. Jonathan may have the same fever, or he may not. In any case, most fevers will take care o’ themselves in a few days time,” she added, seeing that Ann was close to tears.
“Thank ye for the help,” Ann said. ‘I’ll see to getting the water now.”
The sailor Ian immediately brought a basin of water and a lump of fat the size of a guinea egg, promising to see that she would have gruel for Jonathan whenever it was needed. Having done all she could for the moment, Ann lay on her bunk, sleeplessly awaiting the uncertain day ahead, and wishing with all her heart for her mother’s calm and peaceful spirit.
At dawn, those who had been able to sleep awoke to the sound of distant cannon fire. In the darkness of night, the Regent had become separated from the Derry Crown, and was now apparently under attack by the unidentified ship.
Above them, Ann could hear the barking of orders and the shuffling of feet on the planking—then the thunder of their own cannon. Though the attacking ship was too far away for their fire to be effective, William had explained that the captain wanted to assure the Regent that help was forthcoming.
Jonathan awoke briefly and drank some water, but his fever remained high, and despite the noise and confusion, he seemed frighteningly unaware. Mrs. Prentiss stopped by to see how Jonathan was faring and confirmed the rumor that the Fletcher’s infant daughter had died during the night.
“But the Fletcher boy’s fever has broken, and he spoke this morning,” she added brightly.
Ann nodded, taking small comfort in Mary Prentiss’s words. She had watched her mother sicken and die, and now her brother was thrashing in delirium, his face red and his breathing labored. He turned his head when she tried to put wet cloths on his face, and he would not swallow the gruel she offered. As the morning wore on, the quarters below deck became stifling, and one of the women opened the hatch above the stairway, heightening the sounds of the battle and confusion above.
“Ye look almost as flushed as Jonathan,” Isabel told Ann when she brought her some bread and cheese at noon.
“It’s the heat,” Ann said, brushing damp tendrils of hair from her face with the back of her hand. “I’ll be fine.”
“You ought to walk about some, anyway. I’ll sit with Jonathan for a time.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t any place to go, but I will stand up and stretch a bit. What do ye suppose is happening out there?”
“From what I hear, I judge we are moving around the Regent now, so we can have a clear shot at the pirate ship.”
“Then we might draw fire, as well.”
“I suppose so. I don’t think the pirates have boarded the Regent, although I heard someone say they were rigging a battering ram.”
Ann shuddered. “And how are the others—the women and children? Seems I can hear nothing but the cannonade in the distance.”
“Oh, you won’t hear a thing out of anyone down here, I’ll vow. We’re all too frightened to do anything more than pray and wait!”
“I wish we could go on deck,” Ann sighed. “Even a breath of air would help.”
“Go to the top of the stairs, at least,” Isabel urged. “You look fair done in.”
As she stood, Ann managed a faint smile. “Maybe we can take turns breathing. There’s hardly any air left.”
As Ann reached the top of the stairs, there was the familiar sight of sailors heaving on the rigging. Nothing seemed amiss, until she caught the glint of metal from the long knives stuck through their belts. Just then Mr. Craighead came into view. He, too, was armed with a brace of pistols. Ann was taxed to imagine his using a weapon, but at that moment the schoolmaster looked grimly determined enough to do so, at that.
“Mr. Craighead,” Ann called softly, not wanting to give away her presence in a forbidden area. “Can ye stop for a moment?”
“Mistress Ann, don’t ye know ye’re in danger here?” But the tender expression on his face belied the stern tone of his voice. “And how are ye faring below? I know ‘tis warm and likely to be warmer yet ‘ere this day is ended.”
“’Tis hot and close there, true enough, but we can stand it for a time. Did ye know that Jonathan is ill?”
“Your father said he might be. What ails him?”
“I think he must have caught the fever. The Fletcher bairn died in the night.”
Caleb shook his head sadly. “I dinna know—I should be down there with them, but just now every man may be needed, and I must not leave.”
“Can ye tell me what is happening?”
Caleb repeated the story Isabel had told Ann, adding that shortly they would be in firing range of the pirate ship. “If you hear anyone order the hatches shut, be certain to pull the bolt from the inside,” he warned, “and stay away from the stairway. When you hear our cannon firing, go to your bunks and stay there. I’ll come down as soon as I can. Will ye be all right?”
Ann wanted to say some brave words, but all she could manage was a nod, and with a touch of his hand to hers, Caleb walked away.
“You there! Away from the hatch!” the first mate called, seeing her at last.
“Things may soon be getting noisier, when our cannon is fired,” she told Isabel when she returned to their quarters.
“Noise is fine,” Isabel said, tossing her head, “as long as I know who is making it.”
An ear-splitting exchange of cannon fire, punctuated by much shouting and firing of smaller arms, convinced them that the pirates must be waging a full-scale attack. During a lull in the fighting one of the women—Ann could not tell just who—began reciting the twenty-third Psalm, and one by one, others joined in. Suddenly Ann recalled Caleb’s warning about the hatch. She was halfway up the stairs to bolt the door when it opened, and Caleb himself bounded down the stairs toward her.
“Everything is fine,” he assured them. “We have fired on the pirates and they are in retreat. The captain says ye are all to have an airing now, but ye must be ready to return below at a moment’s notice.”
The women and children needed no urging, but Ann hung back, eager for a word with Caleb.
“I must speak to the Fletchers,” Caleb told Ann, “then I’ll come back and see Jonathan.”
She waited, hearing the murmur of his voice and the soft sobbing of the bereaved mother. Evidently Caleb had persuaded her to leave her sultry quarters, for she went out past Ann and up the stairs, and Caleb came to stand by Jonathan’s bunk.
“He has been like this since last night,” Ann said.
Caleb put his hand on the boy’s forehead, then on his chest, and shook his head. “Aye, he looks just as Danny Fletcher did at first, but Danny’s much better now, and soon Jonathan will be, too.”
“I have been putting wet cloths on his head, but the water is all gone. Can ye ask someone to bring more?”
“I’ll see to it myself. But try to rest, lass. Ye look done in, yourself.”
“If anything happens to Jonathan…after…” She could not finish, nor did she try to stop the tears.
“I am going to ask God to spare Jonathan and to comfort and strengthen ye,” Caleb said. “Will ye pray with me?”
Ann nodded, unable to speak for her tears, and kneeling by the bunk. Caleb began to pray. He asked for healing for Jonathan, safety for all of them during the remainder of their journey, and peace for Ann. “Amen,” he finished, and rose to his feet. “I’ll bring the water and sit with the boy so ye can go on deck awhile. I’ll return soon.”
Ann dried her tears, strangely moved by Caleb’s prayer. His strength had flowed through her, lifting and warming her. Strangest of all, the peace he had prayed for seemed to be settling upon her. Then another part of Ann’s consciousness acknowledged the man who had done the praying. No one in all her life had ever affected her so.
When Caleb returned with the water and took her place by Jonathan’s side. Ann joined the other passengers crowding the rail. From the distance of several hundred yards that separated them from the Regent, Ann could see the smoke of several fires burning on the vessel’s deck. Most of the ship’s sails were down, whether from having burned or by plan, she could not tell. Beyond the Regent, she could barely make out another set of sails, but the pirate ship was now too far away for its guns to be any threat.
“How is Jonathan?” William asked anxiously, seeing Ann.
“About the same. Mr Craighead is with him now. Do ye think the pirates will return?”
“I doubt it, but we’ll stay close by the Regent in case they do.”
“It must have been fair sporting to see!” said Isabel, her vivid blue eyes sparkling.
“They are well-fitted to do battle,” William replied, “but had we not been able to join her so soon, the Regent would be in the pirates’ hands, without a doubt.”
Noting an edge of excitement in her father’s voice, Ann realized that he had enjoyed the encounter with pirates. What was it about danger that men found so attractive?
“Ye all look so dangerous, with those knives and big pistols,” Isabel said. “Were the transported men given arms, as well?”
“Yes, they were,” her father answered. “There would be no reason to refuse them the right to defend themselves. Most of the men are being transported from debtor’s prisons and were never ordinary criminals, anyway.
“And they’ll be free in America, when we get there,” William added.
‘Well, not exactly,” Tom Prentiss corrected. “They’ll serve five years’ indenture before they’re on their own. But ‘twould be against their own best interests to cause any trouble aboard ship.”
“Mr. Craighead has done a good work with those men,” William remarked. “He has them saying their prayers every night, I hear.”
“He has been kind to everyone,” Ann said, “and we mustn’t take advantage of him. Father, I should go back to Jonathan now and let Mr. Craighead rest.”
William glanced at the sky, which was rapidly darkening from the east. “We may all be joining ye soon. Looks as if our fair spell of weather may be coming to an end.”
Thunder rumbled across the sky as if to confirm William’s prediction.
“Thank God that’s not cannon fire,” Tom Prentiss said fervently.
“’Twill help put out the fires if it rains,” Ann heard someone say as she went back to the stairway.
When she reached Jonathan’s bunk, Ann saw that Caleb had fallen asleep, his head resting against the bulwark. With eyes closed and face unguarded in sleep, the somewhat stern lines around his mouth were barely noticeable, and he looked younger—vulnerable now, and very human. For a long moment she studied those faint lines as if some vital secret might reveal itself there. For the first time it occurred to Ann that no one gave comfort to this man, who gave so much to others. Surely he must need encouragement sometimes, she thought. Or was his faith and trust in God so complete that it filled his whole life, with no need for anything or anyone else?
“’Could ye not watch a little while?’” he quoted ruefully, opening his eyes and smiling at her in chagrin at being observed.
“Ye need to rest, too,” she said, flustered, “Ye ought to go and get some food now.”
“I will,” he said, rising to his feet. “Send for me, though, if Jonathan seems worse or if ye need aught.”
“We owe ye a great debt already—more than can ever be repaid.”
“Nay,” he protested. “’Tis the other way ‘round.” Caleb put a hand to Ann’s cheek for a moment and then, almost before she had time to realize he had touched her, he was gone.
Outside, the thunder crashed, and the ship began to roll as the wind freshened and the billowing waves rose. The storm broke, sending the women and children streaming back into the family quarters, but Ann scarcely noticed.
Isabel found her standing by Jonathan’s bunk, her hand pressed to her face, her eyes staring into the distance.
‘There’ll be a rough night ahead,” Isabel said. “Ye’d best get ready to hang on.”
“Yes,” Ann replied, “I will.” She climbed into her bunk and watched the shadows deepen into darkness. This night, too, would pass. And tomorrow—tomorrow, she would see Caleb again.