Into His Arms by Paula Reed

him. “I will put him to bed in my cabin. It is too soon for such drastic measures.”
    Galeno followed docilely and snuggled into the covers on Diego’s bunk. “Are we all going to die, Capitán?” he asked.
    The boy’s simple question gave voice to Diego’s own fears, but he forced a broad smile. “No, Galeno, we will not all die. Look at me. I am not going to die. And neither are you. You stay here and rest, because you have many duties, and I need you to be healthy again.”
    The boy looked somewhat assured, enough so that he closed his eyes and let his face relax. Diego’s own thoughts of lying down to rest had all but vanished. His fever and exhaustion were unimportant now. Too many people depended upon him, and there was too much work to be done by too few hands.
     
    *
     
    Faith had no idea how much time had elapsed when she awoke to a soft tapping on the door. The light that spilled into the room from the window seemed dimmer, but it hadn’t been terribly intense at any point, so it was of little help. She checked to see that she was sufficiently covered as she called out, “Who is it?”
    “‘Tis me, Thomas, the ship’s cook. I’ve supper here for you, if you’re of a mind.”
    The mention of food caused her stomach to growl in response. “Aye, thank you and come in.”
    Thomas was a portly, jolly-faced fellow who looked near three score in years, though Faith suspected he was somewhat younger. He stood, plate in hand, and gaped at her. “Lord have mercy,” he whispered.
    Embarrassed, Faith again surveyed the sheets and the neck of the borrowed shirt to make sure that she was decently covered.
    Thomas shook his head as though to clear it from a blow and set his concentration upon arranging her supper on the desk. “Sorry ‘bout that, miss. I didn’t mean to stare, but ye’re uncommon pretty. ‘Tis glad I am there’s no one aboard who can match the price the cap’n paid for ye. We’d have a fight on our hands, sure.”
    Her heart skipped a beat, and Faith was certain she hadn’t heard the man correctly, or perhaps she misunderstood his meaning. “The price the captain paid?” she asked.
    “Aye, miss, a bag of gold doubloons. ‘Course, the cap’n doesn’t drink as much as most, and he never gambles. He spends a bit on wenches when he can, but there’s little else he does with his booty. I imagine he can afford more than that if there’s a need.”
    Her head swam at the thought. How many doubloons had there been? She assumed her aunt and uncle to have some means, for sugar plantations were known to produce considerable wealth, but they were yet strangers. She could never ask them to repay such a sum! She looked up at the cook, who looked back with a worried expression.
    “Have I upset ye, miss? The cap’n said ye knew the whole of the situation.”
    “Nay, you’ve done nothing wrong, Thomas. The captain told me that he had paid for my passage,” she answered breathlessly.
    Thomas blushed and said, “Forgive me, miss. ‘Twas a crude thing to say. O’ course the cap’n paid yer passage; he didn’t pay fer ye. Why, ye’re not a slave nor a whore—er—horse, nor nothin’ like that.” He gave her a nervous smile and nodded his head with its thin wisps of gray hair. “Ye just eat up, and I’ll be down soon.”
    He left in a dither, and Faith paced the cabin furiously, unable to touch her plate. She could never raise enough money to repay the captain, and a man like him did not part with that much gold with no expectation of a return. What was it Thomas had said, he only spent his money on wenches? She could only imagine what they did to repay him, but she knew that was impossible for her.
    She stood at the window and found she could just make out the gentle swells of dark waves as they moved against a somewhat lighter sky. Still, it seemed darker than it ought, and she wondered if the ocean would pitch them about and make her sick again. She couldn’t shake the feeling