The boatswain blew his whistle and boots rang out across the deck. The sailors quickly and nimbly scaled the masts.
Sabri rubbed his chin and grinned. Many years at sea had made the captain of the Queen Charlotte hard and gnarly like an old Atlas cedar. But his crew obviously respected him. The passengers told stories of how he had courageously stopped a mutiny on this very ship many years ago. It had cost the former captain his life, but Comstock, who was only a helmsman at the time, was rewarded for his valor by being put in charge of the Queen.
Sabri leaned his head back and watched the sailors balancing above him at dizzying heights. Soon, the first sails were unfurled and began to flap in the wind. The sailor on watch turned the hourglass and rang the ship’s bell three times: half-past nine and still no sign of Emily. Sabri sighed longingly and looked out at the ocean.
“Where are you going?” Victoria asked her sister-in-law. She sat on the edge of her bed in her dressing gown, brushing her hair.
The cabins for passengers who could afford the afterdeck were tiny and separated by thin canvas partitions. Beds hung from the ceiling by ropes to compensate for the ship’s rolling, but the table, chair, cabinet, and washstand were bolted to the floor. Still, traveling like this was considerably more comfortable than on the lower decks, where the poorer passengers slept together with animals and freight in unventilated, tight, frightfully damp spaces.
Emily turned around, her hand already on the door handle. “I want to go on deck. When three persons have spent days vomiting in an extremely confined space, the only thing to do is get some fresh air. I also want to ask the steward to bring us something to eat.”
“You might also ask for some tea,” Victoria suggested. Like Emily, she was wan with dark circles under her eyes, but compared to Firyal, they were in excellent condition.
Poor Firyal was incapable of helping her mistresses. Whenever she was not vomiting, she would curl up and recite verses from the Koran, certain that they were all doomed. After several days of this, she had finally fallen asleep and was snoring softly on her berth.
Emily slipped out. Food and fresh air were, of course, not as pressing as finding Sabri. She had spent these terrible days tormenting herself with the notion that he had changed his mind and decided to yield to his parents’ wishes and marry the qaid’s daughter.
The fresh, salty air helped Emily overcome her queasiness, but she was still not accustomed to the swaying of the ship. She anxiously pressed her back against the wall behind her while her eyes scanned the deck. The sailors were cleaning the Queen Charlotte after the storm. With buckets and brushes, some scrubbed the wooden planks while others polished the brass fittings on the railing, and still others pumped out the water that had been swept into the lower decks. Suddenly, Emily spotted Sabri and her heart started beating faster. He stood at the railing looking eastward, where somewhere in the blue haze lay the coast of Morocco. He had not noticed Emily, but she could see the melancholy on his face. She understood all too well the sadness he felt at leaving behind his family and home, perhaps forever.
She ran toward him, overcome by the need to feel his arms around her. But the ship swayed and the wooden deck was slick with sea spray and soapsuds. She slipped and fell on her bottom with a loud cry. Sabri spun around and rushed toward her. He almost slipped himself but was able to catch himself just in time and help Emily to her feet. The sailors roared with laughter.
“Finally!” Sabri put his arm around Emily’s shoulders and led her away to the bow, which offered a little privacy thanks to its thick foremast and large sails.
Sabri pulled Emily close to him. “How are you? You look very pale.”
Instead of answering, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Nothing and no one can separate us now!” At this moment, the joy and relief of being with him outweighed her guilty conscience about having lied to her family. She looked at him carefully. “You look well. Didn’t the storm affect you?”
“Other than that the shield in front of my porthole came off during the night and I got a face full of ice-cold seawater, I’m fine.”
“Oh dear, you poor thing!” She kissed the tip of his nose.
He beamed at her. “The sight of you makes me so happy that I could sing. Although I must say, you look a little different in Western clothing.”
“I feel different too,” she replied with a laugh and looked down at herself. Under Victoria’s form-fitting blue wool coat, she could see a pair of her mother’s old lace-up boots. Her curls were gathered in a bun. “These European clothes are rather stiff and uncomfortable.” Emily grimaced.
“Now it’s my turn to feel sorry for you!” He kissed her tenderly.
“So that’s why you were suddenly in such a rush to go to London!” shouted an irritated voice behind them.
Emily and Sabri nervously let go of each other and turned to see Victoria glowering with her hands on her hips. “Am I correct in assuming that this trip is all some sort of ruse?”
“I don’t wish to be lectured by you, who, of all people, would accept any excuse to get to England!” Emily shouted.
Victoria ignored the objection. “I take it your mother is not cognizant of the fact that Dr. bin Abdul is also on board?” she inquired frostily and, when Emily said nothing, raised her eyebrows histrionically. “And how do you two conspirators intend to proceed from here?”
“I understand your anger, Mrs. Hopkins,” Sabri began. “But Emily is not to blame. I begged her to elope with me. You have to understand that my family is absolutely opposed to our liaison.”
“Victoria, please understand! Sabri’s family will disown him if he doesn’t marry the bride they have chosen,” Emily added, moved at Sabri’s attempt to cover for her. “You see, we had no choice.”
Victoria swallowed hard. How cruel to be disowned for loving the wrong girl!
“So you shall never return to Mogador?” she gasped.
Sabri shrugged helplessly. Emily nodded, tearing up at the thought.
“I don’t like this at all,” mumbled Victoria, thinking of both the elopement and their plan never to return. They may have been the same age, but Sibylla had appointed her Emily’s chaperone and Victoria intended to fulfill her duty as such.
“I have no idea how to explain this to Mother. It will surely break her heart. Have you not thought about that?” she wanted to know.
“I’ve thought of little else.” Emily wiped her eyes. “But what are we to do?”
“Well, you are going to write to her and confess everything. Your mother will be disappointed, but I’m sure she will do everything in her power to ensure you two can return home. But first of all,” she closed with all the authority and dignity becoming a chaperone, “you two are going to get married!”
“We are planning to be married by a clergyman as soon as we reach London,” Sabri assured her.