Free The Voyage of Promise by Kay Marshall Strom

quarters.”
    “That’s cuz she be the capt’n’s woman now,” Billy growled. He held his own sizzling tidbit over the coals, turning it with an expert hand to roast both sides. “She be a slave and a curse, yet still she lives like queen o’ this ship.”
    “She be queen whilst we be the ones wot gits the lash and chases after rats to feed our starvin’ bellies,” grumbled Sam.
    “If we has to run the risks of a woman on board, then by all wot’s fair she should be ours,” insisted Billy. “ ’Specially a slave woman. The capt’n has no right to keep ’er locked in ’is cabin all fer ’isself!”
    In actual fact, Grace was seldom with the captain, rarely alone with him, and never in his private cabin. She passed most of her days by herself in her own accommodations where she veered back and forth between despair and hope. In her hours of despair, she lay on her bunk and sobbed. In her hours of hope, she flew into a frantic frenzy, weaving together preposterous plots for finding Cabeto and getting both him and herself back home to Africa.
    But the times of hope always ended when weariness overtook her. She drifted into a restless sleep, awash in impossible dreams of walking in the moonlight with her husband at her side, their little son kicking at fallen mangos as Mama Muco scolded him from the doorway… then, in her strong, husky voice, beckoned them all home for the night. Happy dreams of her life before Jasper Hathaway ripped it apart and dashed it to pieces.
    Late at night, when only the brightest stars pierced the inky black blanket of sky, Grace ventured out to walk along the quarter deck in search of the North Star. Always trustworthy, it always showed steady in the same place in the night sky. Somehow, such unswerving dependability gave her hope. Sailors followed the stars. Perhaps that brightest of all stars would lead her to Cabeto.
    Grace felt safe on that isolated back deck, since only she and the few officers were allowed there. She gazed out into the dark and remembered Cabeto’s eyes, so deep and searching; his ready smile and deep, rumbling laugh; the funny way his hair grew thick on one side and thin on the other.
    One evening, Grace paused in her stroll and stood at the railing. She looked up at the stability of the North Star, then down into the powerful depths of the waves that churnedin the ship’s wake. A refreshing breeze blew and eased her troubled mind. She didn’t even notice Doctor Wills step up behind her.
    “Jasper Hathaway is in a desperate state,” the doctor said.
    Grace didn’t answer, nor did she shift her gaze from the sea.
    “His old scars and healed wounds have opened up into new sores, a particular complication of scurvy. And his teeth are falling out. His mind is breaking down as well.”
    Still Grace said nothing.
    “Mister Hathaway is a stubborn fool. He turns his back on every remedy I suggest and calls me a charlatan who only desires to preserve the real cure for the ship’s officers.”
    “Yes,” Grace said. “Mister Hathaway is a fool.”
    “He asks to see you,” Doctor Wills said.
    Grace sighed.
    “You owe the man nothing. Yet because he is my patient,
    I am duty-bound to pass his request along to you. Should you agree to see him, the captain and I shall accompany you to his quarters. But should you decide to decline his request, no one will think the less of you for it.”
    Grace felt as though her body had turned to stone. See Jasper Hathaway again? Stand beside that despicable man, with the captain and the good doctor looking on, and tell him—what? That all was forgiven? Even though her son lay shattered and gone? Even though this very night her husband sailed to the ends of the earth on a slave ship of death?
    The doctor laid a gentle hand on Grace’s arm. “I have done my duty by my patient,” he said. “I shall not speak of this again. If you decide to answer Mister Hathaway’s request, I insist that you let me know. If you decide