Free This Golden Land by Barbara Wood Page B

your orders, sir?"
         Llewellyn thought for a moment as he studied the height and breadth of the approaching squall, its speed and the look of the seas in its path, then said, "We will not fight it, Mister James. We will lie ahull, and may God have mercy on us."
         The First Mate swallowed in fear. Lying ahull meant bringing the sails down and locking the tiller to leeward, allowing the boat to drift freely and

at the mercy of the storm. He was suddenly thinking of his young wife, Betsy, and their baby back home in Bristol.
         "Batten all hatches and portholes," Captain Llewellyn said. "Secure all cargo and make fast the livestock. Check the scuppers. Extinguish all fires and flames. And try not to alarm the passengers."
         "Aye aye, sir," the younger man said, knowing that he and Llewellyn were thinking of the same thing: the Neptune , in these waters at this time last year, going down in a storm with over three hundred souls onboard.
         Llewellyn looked at his passengers who were out on deck, enjoying the mild weather. After passing over the equator without incident, he had informed them that once they had made it through the Doldrums they would navigate away from Africa and towards Rio de Janero where they would pick up a south-westerly to carry them to Australia. The Doldrums lay far behind them now, but there was no longer a possibility of picking up the favorable south-westerly. A storm bigger than any Llewellyn had ever seen lay in their path and they had no choice but to put themselves at its mercy.
         The captain prayed that the loss of life would be minimal.
         Up on the quarterdeck, unaware of the approaching storm, three of the cabin passengers were enjoying the warm sun and cloudless sky.
         Reverend Merriwether, seated in a wood and canvas deck chair, was engrossed in one of the many books he was transporting to the colony, while his wife knitted at his side. Abigail wished she could loosen her corset and divest herself of the cumbersome crinoline and petticoats. Women's fashions were not designed for the semi-tropical climate of the Southern Atlantic Ocean. But she was used by now to the inconveniences of long distance travel. She had grown accustomed to the constant sway and yaw of the Caprica , and the ship's every creak and groan, to hearing the sound of the ship's bell marking time and regulating the crew's watches, and to hearing the bosun's whistle issuing high-pitched commands.
         She wished they could keep sailing forever. The Aboriginal mission had been described as "in the back of beyond and the savages go about naked."
         Swallowing back her secret fears, Abigail focused her attention on her fellow cabin passengers. They seemed not to mind the inconveniences of ocean travel. In fact, since the day the little immigrant boy had recovered

from the dysentery—and the others also recuperated with no new outbreaks—Mr. Scott and Miss Conroy seemed to be possessed by a curious zeal. They had also grown friendlier with each other, Abigail thought as her knitting needles flew. She noticed how Miss Conroy occasionally raised her head from the book she was currently reading to look out over the main deck, her gaze always going straight to Mr. Scott who was toiling away at a perplexing labor, with the assistance of a few brawny immigrants. Mrs. Merriwether suspected that a special bond was forming between the two young people. She had even confessed to her husband that it would be a great delight if Miss Conroy and the American were to marry on board the ship, with either the captain or her husband presiding.
         As if sensing Mrs. Merriwether's scrutiny, Hannah paused in her reading to look up and smile at the older woman. Then she saw the captain on the bridge, where he stood at the wheel in his white trousers and long dark blue coat with the brass buttons, his little blue eyes squinting out to sea. Earlier, Captain Llewellyn had been peering