Anabelle stiffened. With a swish of her drying skirts, she returned to her mistress’s side.
“Hull’s breached bow to amidships,” John shouted from the base of the rope ladder. “Another hole aft starboard.”
Captain Cross, poised within hearing distance, scowled at the report.
“Then we salvage?” Rourke waited for the master’s decision.
Cross gave no answer.
“It’s the Eva Marie, the Joseph M, and the Dinah Hale,” Tom called down from the lookout.
All Littlejohn boats. The bad news kept coming. Harold Littlejohn ran the most ragtag fleet in the Keys and manned them with the hungry and the derelict. Rourke hesitated to send any passenger on a Littlejohn boat, least of all Elizabeth Benjamin, but they could not stay here.
“Any others?” he called up.
“No, Captain.”
Rourke made the decision in an instant. Only one man could ensure Elizabeth’s safety. He crossed to the ladder and waited for John to climb aboard.
The moment his mate set foot on deck, Rourke barked out, “You’re in charge of the salvage. I’m escorting the passengers to Key West.”
John instantly looked to Anabelle. “On de Windsprite?”
“On the Dinah Hale.” It was the best of the lot.
“But you de wreck massa.”
“I’m turning that honor over to you.”
John shook his head. “Massa not listen ta Negro.”
Rourke hated the truth in that statement, so he ignored it. “I must guard the women’s safety.”
“I go.”
“No.” Rourke could not trust John to stay with Elizabeth until they reached Key West. If an opportunity arose, the temptation to steal Anabelle away would be too great.
The crew of the Dinah Hale slid into view as the ship came about. At least three of them had been kicked off every respectable vessel in the wrecking fleet. Rourke could not put Elizabeth on that vessel unprotected. Neither could he trust John with her safety.
“I go,” John reiterated.
“No.” Yet Rourke knew his commands weren’t enough. “Anabelle told me that it’s not the right time. You must wait.”
Bitter disappointment twisted John’s features before defiance set in. “If’n you don’t mind, I ask meself.”
“Ask.”
But Anabelle now tended an awakened Elizabeth, and they both knew the question could not be posed or answered. Miss Benjamin would take Anabelle with her to Key West, and John would lose his wife mere hours after rejoining her.
Rourke could not bear John’s pain. “I will get her to Bahamian waters.” Since severe punishment had just become law for anyone caught assisting a fugitive slave, this vow could cost him dearly.
John’s dark eyes glowed with feverish intensity. He knew the danger. If their marriage was discovered, Charles Benjamin wouldn’t hesitate to claim John as property, and there wasn’t a justice on the island who would question the legitimacy of that claim.
“Promise before God?” John demanded.
“Before God.”
John seemed satisfied with that. “Who you send with dem?”
With a surge of disappointment, Rourke accepted he could not escort Elizabeth, just as John could not make the voyage with Anabelle.
He scanned his crew. They were all decent men. He demanded that of even the lowliest deckhand, but he needed every one of them for the salvage. His gaze settled on Tom Worthington, who was climbing down from the lookout. The lad was young and green but sufficiently adept with a blade if his last scrape was any indication. He also had little experience in salvage.
“Come here, lad.” He motioned to Tom. “I have a job for you.”
Elizabeth ought to be glad to leave the Windsprite, even for an inferior vessel, for it removed her from temptation, but she longed to stay. She wanted to converse with Rourke, to ask dozens of questions and plead her remorse, but her aunt watched every move. His solicitous care only made it worse. Despite her clinging to the impossible hope that time would change her feelings toward him, Rourke had lived up to every expectation she had woven in her daydreams over the years. If not for Aunt Virginia’s firm grasp, she would have walked away from her vow and her duty.
Charlie must come first. She owed him the remainder of her days. With Mother’s passing, the mantle fell firmly upon her shoulders.
By the time Tom Worthington helped her aboard the Dinah Hale, an aching emptiness had set in. Oh, people surrounded her. Anabelle and Aunt Virginia hovered within reach. Mr. Worthington followed a few steps behind. This ship’s crew bustled fore and aft in preparation for departure. Orders rang out, followed by confirmation. Still, she felt so alone. Would this feeling saturate the rest of her life?