Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [106]
He was holding out his hand to her. It was too dark to see the expression on his face, but his stance was uncertain, as if he was ashamed of himself.
‘Why, Will?’ she said as she walked up to him. She felt no hatred, not even anger, just a huge well of disappointment.
‘I don’t know,’ he said in little more than a whisper. ‘I got all fired up about Sam, I suppose.’
Mary said nothing as they walked back to the shelter. She needed time to think this through.
When Mary woke up the following morning, she was alone in the shelter with the children who were still asleep. Will was already working on the boat repairs with William and James. She couldn’t see the other men and guessed they’d gone off to try to catch some shellfish.
Gingerly, she felt her cheek. It was puffy and sore, but the skin wasn’t broken.
A little later when she was kneeling trying to light a fire, Will came over to her. He just stood by her for a second or two, looking down at her. She ignored him.
‘Do you hate me?’ he asked eventually.
‘Do you expect me to?’ she retorted, looking up at him. He looked rough. Of course they all did, what with wind-and sun-burnt skin and little sleep. All the men needed their hair and beards trimmed, but it looked odd on Will who normally took pride in his appearance.
Yet it was more than that. Will’s eyes were dull and sunken, Mary could only remember them looking that way once before. That was after the flogging.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘We’ve been through a lot together,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a lot more still to come, and if we don’t pull together we won’t make it.’
‘So you’ll forgive me then?’ he said, looking a bit puzzled.
‘I don’t know about forgiveness, you have to earn that,’ she said sharply. ‘But I’ll put it to one side.’
He made a sort of exclamation with his hands. ‘What sort of a woman are you? You don’t cry, you don’t shout. I don’t understand you.’
‘I understand you,’ she retorted. ‘And I don’t cry or shout because there’s nothing to be gained by it.’
She did understand him. She knew he was afraid she was usurping the position he’d always held, that of leader. Raping her was his way of making her submit to him. But she wasn’t going to.
The natives came back again during the afternoon. The men gave them some of the fish they’d caught and they in turn offered a gift of a couple of large crabs.
The following morning the natives came down the beach and helped them relaunch the boat, waving as they left. It was to be the last time they were to encounter friendliness when they put ashore.
The luck which had held for a month suddenly gave out. The weather turned bad, with strong winds and heavy rain, and though they saw many inviting beaches, the surf was too high to chance trying to go in. The boat was still taking in water, and when they eventually found a bay, natives appeared at once, throwing spears to warn them off. In desperation the men fired the muskets over their heads, and the natives ran away, but they were back in larger numbers the following morning, so there was nothing for it but to flee.
A violent storm caught them unprepared. The waves were like huge green mountains, tossing the boat up and down like a toy. Mary kept Emmanuel strapped to her chest, and held Charlotte tightly for fear she would be washed overboard. She doubted that any of them would see the sun rise again.
It was like the worst sailing nightmare which just went on and on. The sky was so black that even day seemed almost as bad as night. Emmanuel and Charlotte screamed with terror, then when exhaustion overcame them they merely quivered, too petrified, cold and wet to sleep.
The fresh water was nearly gone, but they were unable to go ashore for fear of wrecking the boat on rocks beneath the surf. Will anchored offshore and two of the men bravely swam ashore with the cask to fill it, but natives with spears appeared again and they had to retreat quickly.
Over the next couple of days Mary saw that Will was sinking into an apathetic state. He left William