Free Beloved Castaway by Kathleen Y'Barbo

another deception, I’ll hear of it now rather than later. Do you understand?”
    “Sir, I’ve offered no deception save the decision to allow you to believe a man had purchased passage on your vessel. Beyond this, I have been nothing but honest with you.”  
    Animosity radiated from his eyes, reduced to bare slits yet still visible in their silvery depths. Quickly, she averted her eyes, studying the toes of her slippers and the broken pieces of wood lying between them.  
    Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
    This verse from Romans had given her much cause to think and offered many opportunities for spirited discussion with the mademoiselle. While offering her heart and soul to the Lord had been relatively easy, agreeing to follow in the Christ’s footsteps had been a battle of another sort, one where a clear victor had not yet been established.
    Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.
    Although the man’s heart wore a blackness she could feel, it was a heart created by God, knit in his mother’s womb for a better purpose than frightening women and carrying on like a banshee.  
    Isabelle stared past the captain and began to pray, allowing the Gospel of Luke to be her guide. Rather than ask God to save her, she asked the almighty Father to save Josiah Carter.  
    As if the captain sensed her purpose, he made a show of stalking to the table to pound his fist once more on its dark surface.
    “Women shall be the death of me,” he shouted as he kicked a broken piece of chair in her direction, narrowly missing her feet.
    And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other. . . .
    Isabelle refused to flinch. Rather, she offered him a bland expression.  
    As if bored by her lack of response, Captain Carter settled one hip on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. The ship rolled quietly beneath their feet while the sounds of the storm blew louder.  
    The occasional shout of a deckhand and the clank of the chains split the silence. The Virginian seemed to notice none of this while each sound was magnified a thousandfold to Isabelle.
    Finally, the sailor returned with a silent and sullen Mama Dell. The captain stared at the woman, starting at the brightly colored tignon tied about her head and proceeding to its end at the glove-leather slippers adorning her diminutive feet.  
    As if he knew of Mama Dell’s penchant for making others bow to her will by intimidation, Josiah Carter applied the same tactic to her. Had the situation not been so dire, Isabelle might have considered feeling a bit of satisfaction at the turn of events.
    “Woman,” the captain said slowly, an edge of menace in his voice, “what say you on the matter of Mademoiselle Gayarre’s recent financial loss?”
    In a rush of words, most of them unintelligible, the old woman professed ignorance to the situation at hand. “No traveling case has touched my hand this day,” she vowed passionately, “and no gold has been found or taken.”  
    “Interesting,” the captain said slowly as he looked from Mama Dell to the old sailor. “Heard you the mention of a traveling case or missing gold pass my lips, Harrigan?”
    “I did not, Cap’n,” Harrigan answered with a shake of his head.  
    “He did not,” Captain Carter repeated.  
    The captain approached Mama Dell like a panther stalking his prey, using his height to intimidate. To her credit, Mama Dell neither flinched nor shirked away.
    “Save your skin, woman, and save me wasted time, as well. Speak what you know of this.”  
    Ending the ruse, he centered his concentration on the older woman. Harrigan snickered, then silenced when the captain glared in his direction.
    “I demand a response,” Captain Carter said through clenched jaw.
    Mama Dell stood motionless, defeated, and then suddenly defiant. An irrational fear crept up Isabelle’s spine as she recognized the look for what it had meant to her.  
    None dare