Treasure Island

One

Juliet's stomach heaved again and she clutched onto the wall in a desperate attempt to steady that spinning ship but to no avail. Dinner from last night rushed forward, and before she could locate the chamberpot, she fell to her knees and wretched upon the floor.
Eyes watery, hair damp and falling limply in her face, she refused to move, refused to stand lest the throbbing in her head worsened and she fainted. Thunder split the black heavens in half again, and she trembled, much out of the cold and fear, and screamed as the ship catapulted. The impact to her chest sent a sharp pain darting through her body, and she laid there for a while going over all the many reasons why agreeing to sail to the Americas was now not such a good idea. The storm, for one, and the endless sea-sicness she suffered.
She didn't hear when the door finally slammed open. All she was aware of were the hands lifting her, cradling her as she found supernatural strength in her knees.
"Come Juliet, make haste!"
It was her father's voice above the charring of wood. The urgency she heard there gave her a moments pause to meet his teal gaze. In his mid-fifties, Jefferson St. Clair was tall and handsome, a widower of some sever years and a successful businessman and politition is his own right. Tonight however, his face did not shine with it's customary good grace, but was wrinkled with lines of raw concern and fear. He looked much older now.
"Father, I don't think -"
"Now isn't the best time for protest darling. Just let me help you topside."
She frowned, clutching him as the ship careened again.
"Topside? But the storm, the waves?"
He flung the door open and paused as members of the crew dashed up the slippery ladder in a serge of panic.
"Father?"
Jefferson hastened her up wordlessly and glanced at the black sky. Not a star was in sight. The waves that battered the deck almost swept them clear into the tempest of the sea, but he somehow managed to secure her body to his and grip for dear life to what was left of the main-mast. Her gasping, spluttering form drew his attention.
"You've brought me topside to die!" she wailed. He shook his head in instant denial.
"The ship - we're sinking dear. I couldn't leave you down there."
Her eyes widened in fear at the thought, but before she could have opened her mouth to make any kind of protest, she gasped instead.
The tidal wave that roared behind them rose like a mountain in the distance, rushing forward, it's intent set on destruction.
Jefferson spun around then, face pale. Juliet couldn't cry out even when his fingers sank mercilessly into her flesh.
"God help us all," he whispered beneath its thunder, and held her close, burying her head in his neck when the dead weight of water came rushing down upon his back like a thousand-foot brick wall.

* * * * * * * * *

Jefferson's eyes fluttered open slowly. He flinched, cursing the sunlight that pierced needles through his orbs before attempting to rise.
The effort proved futile. Disoriented, his orbs scanned the sky above, the riggings and the sails. The air smelled clean with sea-blast, and the shout of gulls procalimed that land was very near.
A shadow blocked the light from his face and he could have seen the hazily the curious face of the well uniformed sailor. His words were distorted, inaudible. Another man was summoned, and before long three faces hovered over his, none of which he recognized, all of them wearing powdered wigs.
"Sir, can you hear me?" one of them directed. He averted his attention to the owner of the voice. Another man nodded.
"He can hear us," then, at him, "can you speak?"
Jefferson swallowed, but nothing more. His mind chaotic, he closed his eyes again, too tired to do much more than sleep.

* * * * * * * * *

Hours turned into days. He smelled camphor and whiskey mixed with rich Virginia tobacco, a scent so familiar he forced his eyes to open. The creaking of wood against rope echoed softly. A dim light was perched upon its niche, casting shadows in corners and upon his stationary form. Water dripped from somewhere indistinct, and the faint murmur of strange voices.
"Hello?" he croaked huskily, cleared his throat and tried again, this time resorting to a loud grunt.
He was exhausted.
A door opened somewhere, and quick footsteps approached.
"Lie still," the man instructed kindly. He was short with blond hair and glassy blue eyes. A pair of spectacles was perched upon his nose, enhanching the silver sprinkled above his ears.
"How do you feel?"
Jefferson looked around the room searchingly.
"The storm...the ship - it was going under..."
Then, as if some memory alerted him to the present predicament, his eyes widened.
"Where's Juliet?"
The stranger's otherwise neat brows furrowed ever so slightly.
"Where's my daughter?"
"Mr..."
He paused, collected his thoughts, and responded after a moments hesitation.
"Jefferson. Jefferson St. Clair."
"Mr. St. Clair, you were found floating on a piece of debris some sixty odd miles off the coast of Hispaniola. There was no sign of anyone else."
He shook his head quickly, passionately "You - you don't understand. My daughter was with me. We were sailing from England so that she could be married in the fall."
"Mr. St. Clair, mayhap it will be wise if you rest a while. I shall summon the captain-"
"I don't want the captain. I want my daughter!"
His pupils shrunk to the size of pin heads. Shock swept him.
"Juliet!"
His massive body fought to rise, to get off the bed where he lay, and found that he couldn't move. Instinct made him look down passed his hips, and when the sight of white sheets greeted him instead of strong, muscled legs, he froze. Silence was prominent for the first few seconds it took to register the obvious, and then he screamed.
steady hands tried to pin him to the bunk. Above his cried, the doctor bellowed for help.

* * * * * * * * *

A gentle wind stirred the lacy curtains in the music room. Lord Percival Valentine paused upon the threshold to quietly observe the man sitting with his back to the piano. The wheelchair he was now confined to marked the beginning of a changed life for the proud St. Clair.
It pained Percival, but he cleared his throat all the same to announce his presence and approached with forced casuality.
"Jefferson, I am thankful you are alive and well."
His teal eyes rose to his, and he held his breath. Dark circles swarmed the,, and the fear that reflected there stole words from his lips.
"You've heard of Juliet?" he inquired timidly. "You must have heard of it."
Percival nodded gravely. "Yes. I'm aware of her death."
Jefferson turned to the swaying trees absently for a moment.
"They tell me she's dead. The doctors, friends, the navy. They tell me my daughter is gone and I must accept that. How does one accept death?"
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully.
"In time, I suppose."
"You would have loved her, my Juliet. Beautiful and smark, and as much opposed to the union as you were."
Shuttered brown eyes traveled to the blossoms outdoors.
"I would have loved her," he agreed, more to comfort the man than anything else.
"They tell me she's gone - but I cannot accept that. I don't believe it."
Percival eyed him compassionately. "There were no other survivors. You were the only one found -"
"That's what they say. But Juliet is strong. She's alive out there somewhere. I know it. St. Clair blood flows through her veins. She's alive!"
He shrugged meekly. "Logic will say differently. It has been almost a month. Even if she did survive, she would have starved, or died of dehydration at open sea."
"No," he shook his head firmly. "I was found sixty miles off an island. There's a very good chance that she may have washed up on one."
"And a very good chance that she did not."
"All the same, I've decided to hire a crew to search her out."
Percival shook his head in disbelief. "This is madness. Dozens of islands litter Florida's southern key, not to mention hundreds of the Caribbean. That would take an eternity!"
Jefferson smiled absently again.
"You underestimate me old boy," he mused. "I shall not hire any ordinary crew, but one that sails these waters as easily as riding a horse. I'll get a man who will move in and out of those islands with stealth and ease, one perfectly capable of retrieving Juliet once she is found."
Suspicion found it's way into Percival's tender stare. "And where exactly would such a man be found?"
"Why, the Calaboso of course," he said matter-of-fact.
"You would entrust your daughter to a thief and a murderer?" he snapped quickly. "Maybe you are insane."
Jefferson snarled before turning to face his sleek form. "I have hope that she breathes boy. If that is insane then I plead guilty."
"But the Calaboso..."
"Maybe then you shall consider the tast?"
Percival sighed heavily. "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news Jefferson, but I truely believe that this would prove to be a waste of time. We cannot change what has happened, though I wish in my heart things were different. I cannot."
"You were to be wed to the girl..."
Percival nodded. "Yes, and unfortunate outcome for us all. Nevertheless, I suggest you quit this nonesene and focus of moving on."
Jefferson turned to the window once again, suddenly quiet, not wanting the tears that fell so freely from his eyes to be seen. Percival sighed heavily, wished him farewell, and purposefully made his way out the door in long strides of finality.

* * * * * * * * *