A New Dawn: Based on a true story

By Karen Milne

In May 1787, fourteen hundred people embark on an extraordinary voyage travelling half-way around the world. Deborah, a spirited and determined young English woman finds herself part of this remarkable crossing to a strange new world. Deborah could never imagine what lies ahead for her throughout the crossing and her arrival on this distant hostile shore. She must endure dreadful hardships and will be forced to confront her innermost deepest fears.

Deep bonds of friendship through common adversity are developed when she finds many others in the same circumstance as herself. At the frontier of the settlement, an unlikely friendship develops as Deborah comes face to face with the militant Indigenous inhabitants of the country.

Along her journey, Deborah encounters love, heartache and a betrayal she must learn to forgive if she is to survive and forge a new life for herself.

Karen Milne grew up on the outskirts of Sydney on the upper North Shore surrounded by the natural beauty of the Australian bush. Through her Mothers side of the family, she is a seventh generation Australian with her ancestors Deborah Ellam and John Herbert arriving as convicts on the first fleet in Sydney Cove in January 1788.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9781446634882

Book preview

Prologue

One minor lapse in judgment, one little foolish mistake, and my life as I knew it came to an abrupt end—a hellish and bewildering abrupt end. I was paying the price for my momentary lack of sense and utter stupidity. As a guest in one of His Majesty’s most notorious decaying prisons, I was learning just what the cost would be. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and still I waited … wallowing in this living eternal hell. Evil itself resonated from the ancient stone walls, fed unchecked for over seven hundred years—putrid and vile—it consumed all. Cold dank fingers touched all with mind numbing fear and unspeakable horror. Nobody survived more than a handful of years … I was on the verge of losing my mind, and with a sick foreboding, I knew if I was here for much longer, I wouldn’t survive. In the end, death’s icy touch would welcome me like so many of the others … it was close, much too close ….

Chapter 1

May 1787

Atlantic Ocean

I

t was nearing dusk on a windy afternoon several weeks into our long sea voyage when I found myself traversing the almost empty timber deck of the Prince of Wales. Strong gusts of wind delivering cold bursts of ocean spray ensured all my companions remained below and it was becoming increasingly difficult traversing the heaving, slippery deck. Thankful for the solitude, I steadfastly remained, determined to make the most of the fresh air and sunshine in the short time allocated to us each day. I was not going to let a bit of wind and water spoil it, especially after being deprived for so long. I hardly believed the turn of events, finding myself being transported across the seas and daring to hope for a new life. I shivered and clutched the thin government issued rough woolen shawl around my shoulders a little more closely; the icy wind was biting.

Apart from myself, a couple of hard weather worn sailors were going about their duties with sure-footed efficiency—hauling ropes and climbing the rigging with a swiftness and dexterity that was simply quite amazing. As I neared the bow of the ship, it was apparent I wasn’t the only one enjoying the invigorating air and spectacular pink sun set. A Royal Marine Officer was casually leaning on the railing, gazing out across the vastness of the golden hued rough sea, seemingly lost in thought. Without wanting to disturb the man’s solitude, I quickened my pace, trying to slip past him undetected. As I drew even, a sudden squall sent the ship into a wild sideways lurch and, losing my balance, I slipped on the wet deck and ended up in a disheveled heap at his feet. I’ve had a few women throw themselves at me before, but this is ridiculous. He reached down and effortlessly restored me to my feet. Are you injured? Mortified, I managed to shake my head as the ship lurched again and I ended up pressed against his large, uniformed body. Acutely aware of his maleness, my face burned red like a hot poker. Any pain I felt was quickly forgotten as both his hands dropped to my waist to steady me. He was so tall my head reached halfway up his broad chest. I had to tilt my head to look into his face—brilliant blue eyes regarded me intently—a small smile quirked his lips. You don’t seem too worse for wear. He spoke beautifully with the accent of the upper class and I was instantly reminded of the vast chasm separating me from his kind. When I opened my mouth, my northern working-class background would be painfully obvious. To save myself any further embarrassment, I tried in vain to pull myself from his grasp, hands like iron vices clamped hard on my waist; I could not move. He chuckled, ignoring my futile efforts. You really do need to be careful, especially when it’s like this - the decks are quite slippery. I’m surprised you’re still up here; all the other women had the good sense to go below. I completely lost the ability to speak; every sense was attuned to the man who held me. I could only manage a stupid nod of my head. Well, do you have anything to say for yourself? One thick, dark blonde eyebrow rose slightly in question. Ah, I … um, thank you, uh, Sir. My face burned even redder. What on earth was wrong with me? I was unable to string two words together. He chuckled again at my apparent awkwardness. You are most welcome, Miss …? His question hung in the air for a few moments whilst I managed, with some effort, to pull myself together. Surely I could give him my name. Ellom Sir, it’s Deborah Ellom, or Debbie, as my friends call me. You can call me either; it’s entirely up to you. Now I was babbling; he would think me a complete fool. He tipped his head slightly, an amused look on his face. I’m happy to have been of assistance, Miss Ellom. The vice-like grip eased, and he slowly dropped his hands. Sparkling blue eyes swept the length of me; interest flared briefly but unmistakably in their depths. I was astounded; this man was an officer—a gentleman—so far beyond my class. It was ridiculous to even acknowledge his interest, which persuaded me to suppress the mad giggle now threatening to erupt from within.

Thank god I was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of one of his marines, a burly no-nonsense sergeant who cleared his throat noisily as he approached from down the deck. Excuse me Sir, but the Master would like to discuss the worsening conditions with you. I was told to find you urgently. As he took in our proximity, the man cast me an incredulous look before saluting his superior and retreating back to where he came. He was as stunned as I.

Well, I’m afraid duty calls. It was nice to meet you, Miss Ellom. I summoned the courage to raise my eyes to his face; our gaze locked for one heart stopping moment. Time stood still for several seconds before he was gone, leaving me staring at his broad, retreating back. A sharp stinging pain on my hip brought me back to reality; it must have been where I’d landed heavily on the deck, all but forgotten during my exchange with the man. I gave it a hasty rub—I was going to have a nasty bruise as I hobbled back along the deck; it was time to go below.

Later in the evening, I shared my story with my shipboard friends whilst sitting at one of the many wooden tables running down the length of the lower deck. Come on, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Debbie. Elizabeth’s laugh reverberated around the crowded deck and several heads turned in our direction. There’s no way in hell that man held you in his arms. Firstly, it’s against the rules to associate with any of the men - crew or marines. I could see Elizabeth was just getting started, and I braced myself for the expected unpleasantness. Secondly, you’re, quite obviously, not his type. Just look at you, flat chested and scrawny, really what man would want you next to him in bed? She was right, but still her spiteful words resonated deep within. It was true; I was thin, painfully thin, and did not need to be reminded of the fact by a spoilt and spiteful girl. It was also against the rules to ‘associate’ with the men, crew, or marines. This rule was one of a number made abundantly clear when we first boarded the ship, a rule which Elizabeth blatantly disregarded on more than one occasion. I knew where this behavior stemmed—Elizabeth laid claim to the blonde officer from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Despite her blatant sorry attempts at seduction, the man didn’t appear to be slightly interested, and it was rather surprising, as she was a beautiful girl. The combination of blonde hair, blue eyes and a voluptuous figure left a trail of devoted devastated men across England, or so she claimed. And I suppose you think you are his type, Elizabeth? Anne intervened, quickly jumping to my defense with a sly wink in my direction. The short, plucky woman had been my friend since we met two years ago. Maybe the man prefers brunettes and by the way, as far as rules go, you don’t seem to have given them much thought when you were with your corporal friend the other day! Anne snorted, determined to take Elizabeth down a peg or two. With a dismissive shake of her head, Elizabeth rudely ignored Anne and turned to the tall, dark-haired girl sitting next to her, seeking an ally. Mary, what do you make of it? Do you think he’s interested in Debbie, or do you think it’s all some wild figment of her imagination? Mary eyed Elizabeth reproachfully. Really, Elizabeth, I don’t see why Debbie would make it up, besides she just talked to the man; I don’t see any harm in that. This wasn’t going Elizabeth’s way, and she was growing quite agitated. He’s not interested in her—I’m telling you! she shrieked. What would you sorry spinsters blooming well know about men, anyway? It was enough for Anne and she exploded, her brown eyes blazing. Elizabeth Bingham! How dare you? For your information, I am not a spinster, I’m a widow and I know more about men than you do, you silly girl. I was married to one for five years before he was killed in the war. Don’t presume to think for a moment you know anything about any of us, because you bloody well don’t and frankly, I find your rudeness very tiring. Elizabeth brushed off the scolding with a little shrug of her shapely shoulders. Well, you never said anything about a dead husband; how was I to know? Mary reached across the table and squeezed Anne’s hand. I’m sorry about your husband. Her voice was soft and sympathetic. We’ve all lost people we’ve loved and made sacrifices in more ways than one. She glared at Elizabeth. If Debbie has caught the man’s eye, I say good luck to her—we all deserve to find comfort where we can, and with a man like the captain, well … what more can I say? It was all too much for Elizabeth. Yes, exactly Mary! With a man like the captain, Debbie would be way out of her depth. No offence Debbie, but you have inexperience written all over you, and he is clearly above your class; he smells of the aristocracy. It would be ridiculous to even— I abruptly stood, interrupting her harangue; I had endured enough of her shrewish behavior. It was time to quell the argument. Despite how attractive the man was and the little thrill my encounter provided, I really wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex and it certainly wasn’t inexperience written all over me. Elizabeth was wrong, very wrong. Look Elizabeth, I really have no desire to find a bedmate, believe me. The man is all yours, don’t let me stand in your way if you are so besotted with him.

Much later, I recalled my earlier words to Elizabeth as I tried to sleep, rocking gently in my hammock, listening to the creaking of the rolling ship and the groans of the seasick women. Was I fooling myself? Did I really want nothing more to do with men? I thought, until now, I knew the answer. However, no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t seem to rid myself of a tall, muscular form and an incredible pair of blue eyes.

The encounter, much to my annoyance, left me with a heightened sense of awareness of the man and despite my better judgement and stoic will; I developed a rather ridiculous habit of surreptitiously watching him as he went about his duties on the ship. What appeared even more confounding was his complicity; amazingly he seemed well aware of my antics no matter how much I tried to be inconspicuous. Each day during our allocated time on deck, I would eagerly search the crowded deck for him, keen to see where he was and what he was doing. Once, we passed closely on the deck, and I thought I felt his hand lightly brush my arm. Surely it was purely an accident? I didn’t dare raise my head to find out. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest, surely all would hear. From then on, I felt his eyes following me and when I finally grew the courage to raise my eyes to his, he would look away, a little smile on his lips. One thing was clear—I was playing a game I wasn’t sure I really understood, and I had a very strange feeling the stakes would be much higher than I would ever be willing to pay.

Chapter 2

June 1787

Tenerife, Canary Islands

Our arrival at Tenerife in the Canary Islands temporarily abated my confusing thoughts as the object of my restless nights and torment left the ship with the other officers for our week-long stay in Santa Cruz. It was a welcome relief to be in port and particularly gave those suffering from seasickness the chance to recover without the constant heaving of the deck. Rations of fresh food and water were taken on board and for the first time in a very long time, we all enjoyed fresh beef, vegetables and fruit, a welcome relief to the shipboard fare of dried meat, peas and biscuits. The black mulberries were my favorite and stained our hands and mouths purple. I would never take the simple pleasure of eating good food for granted ever again. This feast, of course, would not last and we would soon return to our usual ship fare, which was infinitely better than the swill I had been forced to consume over the past few years.

Standing on deck staring out at the foreign town made me realise just how far from the rolling green hills of home and my family I really was. Anchored in the Spanish port, we were surrounded by a strange, unusual landscape. It was like nothing I had ever witnessed before. Black sand beaches glistened like wet silk, skirting the dry, rocky, mountainous island. By the end of the voyage, I’d be more than half a world away, and a wave of homesickness swept over me. For someone who had never left the shores of England, it was both terrifying and exciting.

A week after setting sail from Tenerife, we were all afforded the sobering opportunity of being reminded of what our journey truly was and who we really were. As always, Elizabeth was the source of all our information, obtained this time, she said, from one of her marines. Apparently, a mutiny had occurred aboard the Scarborough, one of our sister ships in the fleet, when a group of male convicts attempted to take over control of the ship and sail to the Americas. Their attempt was thwarted when the plan was overheard and the two main ringleaders were singled out and taken without haste to HMS Sirius—the fleet commander, Captain Arthur Phillip’s ship. With a severe flogging as punishment, the two men were then delivered in irons to our ship. We had all been ordered on deck to witness their arrival. Why do you suppose they brought them over here and didn’t just lock them up on the Sirius? Anne whispered as we watched the barely conscious bloody men being dragged along the deck to the bow of the ship. Their bloodstained, tattered clothes left a red trail along the smooth wooden planks. As they passed, we both gasped at the ruined mess of their backs. I’d seen the results of floggings before, but never to this extent. Several Marines then proceeded to throw buckets of sea water over the men. The shock and sting of the cold saltwater biting into their flesh was too much, and they both screamed a terrible bloodcurdling sound before passing out, lying where they’d been dumped, hands and ankles shackled together. It truly rammed home, in the most shocking way, the fact we were all convicts and subject to the same harsh penalties.

I don’t know. I whispered back, shocked. No doubt, it was meant as a deterrent to us. Although, I would hardly think a ship full of women poses much of a risk. Anne nodded. Yes, it must be. It’s obviously the safest place to put them. If they are lucky enough to survive, there is no chance of them rallying a crew full of women to sail the ship. 

One of the marine privates standing nearby overheard Anne’s comment. You’re dead right Miss. They are lucky they weren’t hung. If Major Ross had his way, they’d be fish-food by now. Two hundred lashes they received; I vouch it will keep ‘em quiet for a while yet, and there’s no chance of those two buggers getting any sympathy from Captain Cavendish. It was his suggestion to bring ‘em here, said there’s no chance of inciting mutiny amongst a group of females. He flashed me a brilliant smile before it vanished abruptly as a voice roared down the deck. Private Nash. It was Captain Cavendish, and he was far from impressed. Nash bolted down the deck to stand stiffly to attention in front of the captain. I couldn’t hear what was said, but it was obvious from the look on Nash’s face he was receiving quite a dressing down. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Captain Cavendish discipline his men and Nash seemed to be getting off lightly in this instance. From what I’d seen and heard of the man, he was a tough but fair officer and, surprisingly, not as arrogant as the others. His men were loyal, jumped to his every command, and I hadn’t heard a bad word spoken about him. I got the impression his men would follow him to the very gates of hell if commanded. Despite this, he handled the transfer of the two men onto our ship with a cold, ruthless efficiency instantly reminding all, including myself, despite his looks, popularity and our little tête-à-tête, this man was first and foremost a professional soldier. After dismissing Nash, Captain Cavendish turned to one of his lieutenants and spoke briefly. They both turned their heads and looked down the deck towards Anne and me. It was clear they were discussing us. The dark-haired lieutenant nodded his head after regarding me for several moments. I vaguely heard the captain. Good, it’s settled then. 

What do you reckon they’re on about? Anne’s elbow dug into my ribs painfully. They’re talking about us if I’m not mistaken. Anne prattled on, although I wasn’t really listening. Too absorbed in my thoughts, I wondered what on earth they’d been talking about. Maybe we were in some sort of trouble, though I had no idea what we could have possibly done.

Luckily for my nerves, I didn’t have long to wait. The next night, I was shaken from my sleep by a corporal. Come with me girl, the captain requests your presence immediately. He sensed my hesitation as my sleep fogged mind grappled with his words. I’ll carry you if I have to, he whispered harshly. You don’t want to disobey an order from the captain, do you? It took another couple of seconds for my sleep muddled brain to register he was serious and I climbed out of the hammock, my heart beating wildly. It was difficult not to disturb the others sleeping around me. We were only given eighteen inches of space for our hammocks - not much room at all and I bumped Mary as I was trying to navigate my way around the sleeping women. Instantly, she was wide awake, leaning over her hammock, watching me with wide eyes. Anne, on the other side, slept undisturbed, snoring softly. Where are you going, Debbie? she whispered anxiously as she took in the corporal standing near the stove. I kept my voice low. It seems Captain Cavendish wants to see me. Her eyes widened instantly. See you? At this hour? I nodded my head, and Mary exhaled softly. I think he wants more than just to see you, Debbie! I could see the concern on her face in the gloom. I’ll be fine. I tried to sound reassuring, whilst I felt the opposite. The corporal was glaring at me, making frantic hand movements to hurry; I obviously wasn’t moving quick enough for his liking. He disappeared up the steep stairs to the top deck; I followed behind, snatching up my shawl throwing it around my shoulders.

We emerged into the blackness of the night and were immediately assaulted by strong wind and spray; it was difficult remaining upright on the slippery deck. I followed the corporal towards the stern and then down a short flight of stairs into the main cabins without incident. Such a departure during the middle of the night would not go unnoticed and I was sure word would be around the ship by morning. He stopped at a door near the end of the whitewashed corridor. My heart was beating frantically as he knocked twice, entered and gestured me inside a small but well-appointed cabin. I looked around briefly and noted with surprise the decent sized bunk against the wall made with proper linen, pillows and blankets. I could only imagine what it would be like to sleep in a real bed again, let alone between sheets of the finest linen. A small desk and two chairs occupied the middle of the cabin in front of a set of three large windows. The other side of the cabin contained a washstand, a large trunk, and a small wardrobe. The floor of the cabin was covered with a beautiful Persian carpet in rich blues and greens. I suddenly had the urge to sink my toes into its luxurious depths. The cabin, whitewashed like the corridor, was lit by a lamp suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the interior with a soft golden glow. 

Is this the girl you wanted, Sir? Disapproval was plastered on the corporal’s face. I wondered if it was just me or the situation he didn’t approve of. After all, it wasn’t done for a girl to be visiting a gentleman alone at this hour. Yes. You may go Chapman. I’ll call you when I need you. He dismissed him curtly, clearly not happy with the expression on the corporal’s face. The door shut quietly, leaving me alone with Captain Cavendish, who remained seated behind the desk with a scowl on his face. He was dressed casually—in white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. The formal red uniform jacket was gone. Long muscular legs encased in white breeches and black highly polished leather boots were crossed, resting on the desk in front of him. His thick, blond shoulder length hair was tied at the nape with a narrow black ribbon. He didn’t seem to favour the elaborate wigs others of his class wore. I was glad as it wouldn’t have suited him. The soft hue from the lamp cast shadows across his face and, for a moment, he looked quite dangerous, like one of the pirates I had heard so much about. A crystal decanter containing some sort of amber liquid was open on the desk, together with a matching glass holding a few shots of the liquor. Rum? No, more likely brandy. A sliver of unease arose at his casual air; it was apparent the soldier was gone for the time being. For my sake, I hoped the gentleman remained. Looking more relaxed and in control than I, he regarded me for several long moments before rising from the desk and advancing towards me. I don’t bite, you know; there’s no need to look so worried. He broke into a grin and a flash of the man helping me up from the deck emerged. I’d never been good at hiding my emotions, and I knew my conflicted feelings were written all over my face. My heart beat wildly, and I felt extremely awkward standing there in his cabin under such intense scrutiny and in the disheveled state I was in. It was becoming an effort to just stand upright; the ship had started to roll alarmingly, and I almost lost my balance. His hand shot out to steady me, firm on my arm. This is becoming a habit. Here, sit down before you fall over again. He directed me towards the chair in front of his desk. And let me relieve you of your cloak. He reached for the damp shawl around my shoulders. A sharp look of distaste crossed his face as his fingers touched the rough wool, quickly hanging it on the coat hook near the door. I sat in the chair not saying anything, wondering for the hundredth time what I was doing here with this man. Would you like a brandy, Miss Ellom? he asked. I was going to decline the offer but decided it would steady my nerves and my shaking hands. Yes Sir, thank you, I murmured. He produced another matching glass from the desk’s mahogany draw and sloshed in a generous measure. Inadvertently, our fingers touched as I accepted the heavy cut crystal and a shudder raced through me. His lips twitched in amusement at my response.  I really did need something to soothe my nerves. Throwing caution to the wind, I gulped the golden liquor and choked as it burned my throat all the way down to my stomach—I felt on fire! He chuckled at my coughing fit, Steady on, it’s pretty strong—you need to sip it. He reclaimed his seat and leaned back, returning his muscular legs to their previous position, crossed on the desk, seemingly still quite amused at my behavior.

His eyes openly assessed me for several moments before he spoke. I guess you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here in the middle of the night? He didn’t give me any chance to respond before he continued. You needn’t worry; I assure you; my intentions are perfectly honorable. Silence again whilst his assessment continued. I can see you are surprised, Miss Ellom?  No, no, not really. I choked, still feeling the burn of the brandy. He chuckled, enjoying my discomfort. You are a terrible liar. I can see exactly what you think of me—it’s written all over your face. In a display of uneasiness, I squirmed in my seat, desperate to know what he wanted. He continued. I sent for you because I wanted to ask you something. He was dragging this out, clearly enjoying watching my reaction. You wanted to ask me something? I repeated dumbly, my skepticism sounding in my quavering voice. What on earth did he want to ask me which warranted a visit to his cabin in the dead of night? Surely he could have waited until morning? His blue eyes were intent, giving nothing away. As a matter of fact, yes, I do. He swirled the contents of his glass before slowly taking a long, slow sip. I wanted to ask you about Chester Castle. I felt the blood drain instantly from my face and I nearly dropped the glass clenched in my fingers. One mere mention of that place and a black veil descended over me. What did he want to know? I was so shocked he wanted to ask me about this, I couldn’t speak as I fought the rising panic. He took another slow draught from his glass. It would appear your reaction confirms the fact you were there? As I slowly nodded my head, something I was unable to fathom flickered briefly in his eyes. Was it anger, disgust? He was studying me very closely. What I would like to know is what you were convicted of? He glanced down at a pile of papers lying on the desk. I do have a perfectly good reason for asking, I can assure you. It appears some bumbling bureaucrat forgot to provide us with documents, not just for you, but for the entire convict fleet. I do know you were sent down from Chester with Anne Daly, but nothing more. His eyes returned to my face, watching, carefully evaluating. I swallowed nervously; just how much did he know about Chester? I wondered, and about me? Was this some sort of test I needed to pass? I quickly decided honesty would be my best bet; there was no point lying to the man. I was convicted of stealing some gowns from my employer, Sir. He was silent for a moment. Ah, I see. And were you guilty? I suddenly realized he was going to wring it all from me, the whole painful truth. Yes Sir, I was guilty. There’s no excuse for what I did; I guess I just have a weakness for pretty things. He roared with laughter, So do I, Miss Ellom, so do I. I trust you can control your urges whilst onboard this ship? I wouldn’t want to have to discipline you. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. The questions continued along with his perturbing gaze. When were you sentenced? The panic I felt a few moments ago turned into cold dread. My hand shook slightly as I mumbled, August 1784. He looked shocked. Are you telling me you survived three years in Chester Castle? I was under the impression you were there for only a few weeks before being brought down to Portsmouth to board the Prince of Wales. I slowly shook my head, I wish it were the case. He rose abruptly and walked over to the window, his back to me. How the hell did you survive three years in Chester Prison? Someone like you. Christ, there’s so much wrong with the whole bloody system. I intend speaking to my father when I see him again. Putting guileless young women into such an appalling place just shouldn’t be allowed and all for some petty misdemeanor - stealing a bloody dress! I am truly amazed. Not only did you survive but you don’t seem to have lost your wits. He turned to face me; his jaw was tight, anger clearly evident on his face. From what I’ve heard of the place, no doubt you were raped? I was more shaken by his angry outburst than the shocking question, and I slowly nodded my head; a tear I was helpless to prevent traced its path down my cheek. I hoped to God he didn’t ask me anything else because I didn’t think I could ever tell a living soul what went on behind those putrid walls. The physical scars were long faded, but the emotional scars were still there, buried deep in my soul. He stared at me for several moments before speaking. I could see his mind turning; he must have realised the atrocities without me having to say any more. I think it’s safe to assume it wasn’t the only brutality you suffered. I see it pains you to speak of it—I’ll not ask anything more—I have all the information I need. Despite the softness to his words, his eyes were fierce. Let me assure you, not all men are such vile bastards. There are still some of us who prefer a willing woman in our bed. My heart skipped a beat, and I blushed from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. Even after what I suffered, his words touched something deep within me and I wondered, for one glorious moment, what it would be like to be that willing woman. Our eyes met; he knew my thoughts, and suddenly I didn’t care. Somehow I knew my fate rested with this man. In what way, I didn’t know, I didn’t even know him—I hadn’t even begun to—and yet it was clear, without a doubt, I trusted him implicitly. I, too, would follow him to the very gates of hell if he asked.

He crossed back to the desk, reaching for his glass taking another long draught. I held my breath, waiting—for what, I wasn’t entirely sure. The glass clinked down on the desk, seeming to break the spell of the moment …. "Miss Ellom, I have a proposition for you … there’s a bad storm brewing … I’m told it’s going to get worse. We are in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and in some of the most treacherous seas known. We can’t alter course too much; we’ll just have to weather it out. The storm will make conditions much more difficult for everyone and the crew will have their hands full dealing with the ship. Many