Free Crimson Rapture by Jennifer Horsman

coming from her side. One would swear the motion of the ship was just too
violent to cause sickness. "Dear Katie, please try to answer!"
    When
no answer came, Christina panicked. "Should I blow the whistle?"
    "No
one could 'ear it," Hanna replied and added strangely, "Even if there
was a soul alive up there."
    The
suggestion that they were the only ones left alive sank abruptly into her
consciousness just as the cabin spun backward. Beau howled and Marianna
screamed again and for awful long seconds, Christina's weight, as well as Beau's,
was held from crashing into the hard wall only by ropes. She closed her eyes
tight, dug her hands into Beau, and waited, waited for the room to spin back
and Elsie to stop Marianna's screaming.
    They
would meet their ends, she knew, and soon too. She confronted the fact with but
mild surprise and, even more oddly, she wasn't afraid. They would die and that
was that. The knowledge somehow filled her with a strange peace and from that
she found strength.
    She
said her last prayer, praying first for Madelyne back home, hoping the old
matronly lady was cared for and appreciated in her new position. She then
prayed for Marianna and Katie, who seemed to be suffering the worst. The last
prayer was a hope that the end would be quick and painless for all of them.
    In
the midst of the tumult, the furious noise, and the terror, she tried to
comfort Katie. Though no sound now came from that dark corner. Elsie and Hanna
both worked to quiet Marianna's hysteria, a hysteria that rose and fell with
the wind and the waves.
    Hours
passed. While she never thought she slept— for surely sleep was not
possible—consciousness became ever fuzzier, like a dream. How long since they
had proper food and water? A day? Two? A week? She couldn't remember. She began
slipping into periods of blissful unconsciousness, always waking at a sudden
jolt of the ship, Beau's howl, a boom of thunder, or Marianna's sudden fright.
    She
woke once and Jacob was kneeling over her, trying to brace himself as he held a
cask to her lips. "Come on, darlin', take a sip or two. 'Tis been far too
long without it." She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until that
moment and she tilted her head back and drank and drank.
    "Justin?"
she asked, but somehow knew the answer.
    "Oh,
he's still fightin'. Takes more than a monsoon to put him out." A sadness
filled his voice and he added, "We've lost a lot of men though. Can't even
say how many."
    "I'm
sorry," she whispered. Jacob squeezed her arm and rose to cautiously make
an exit. "Jacob," she stopped him, "please do check Katie there.
She's not well."
    Jacob
glanced at the pole, realizing it was too dark for Christina to see.
"Don't worry about the lass, darlin'. She's farin' better than the lot of
us."
    She
heard Jacob's footsteps stumble to the door, barely making out the silver hair
disappearing through the door. She looked around. It was so dark. Nothing but
black shapes on black. Katie must be unconscious.
    "Elsie?
Hanna? Are you awake?" she called out. There was no answer. Beau licked
her face as though to assure her she was not alone. She smiled weakly and
hugged him. "What a fine brave friend you are," she said softly.
    She
lifted the gold whistle and clutched it tightly in her fist. She hugged her
knees and buried her head and prayed yet again.
    * * * * *
     
    "Higher!"
Justin ordered and the two men on the opposite side of the mast heaved,
struggling to lift the heavy weight of the half-mast two precious inches
higher. Justin seemed not to struggle with his side, the weight resting evenly
on his braced arms, legs, and shoulders.
    Jacob,
tied to the main mast twelve feet above, waited for the pole to rise those two
precious inches. An odd-shaped hammer and ten-inch metal spikes hung from his
belt, waiting to be pressed into use to secure the torn pole to the mast, in
hopes of raising another sail.
    It
was a frightening experience twelve feet above the decks. Rain stung like a
bombardment