Victorian Dream Read Free Page A

sir.”
    That damnable sense of foreboding gripped him again. Jaw tight with dismay he studied the skyline. In typical New England fashion, the weather was taking a turn. A squall was mounting a determined attack, heralded by a northerly wind blowing to portside. They were in for another blow.
    Out maneuvered, the morning sun retreated behind a wall of fuming black clouds, and without its warmth, the air turned damp and discontented. Soon, an ethereal mist coated the lines and every strip of gleaming brass upon the ship. The crew and their families, gathering for the promised celebration, seemed unaware of the climatic change. They laughed and slapped one another on the back, but the Alicia Elaine took note and began to gently heave against the waves.
    Too late to change course now… Mustering a cheerfulness born of necessity, he turned to greet Phillip and Ophelia.
    “Good morning. I feared our weather might deter you, Mrs. St.Christopher.” Concerned for her safety, he wished it had. His heart rate picked up speed as he listened to her reply.
    “On such a grand day as this,” she declared, slipping one hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow, “’twould take more than a bit of blustering breeze to keep me from my Phillip’s side.”
    As if to challenge her courage, a gust of wind battled Ophelia for possession of her bonnet. It took liberties with her cloak and skirts as well, but with a smile and good grace, she managed a victory in each instance. She appeared determined to tough it out with the men, and after meeting her last evening, he hadn’t expected less. Heads down, they huddled together.
    “I suggest we expedite the christening with all haste,” Walker shouted, to make himself heard above the crowd and the inclement weather. “We can dispense with the ceremonial documents until another time.”
    “Splendid idea,” Phillip agreed.
    Allowing the St.Christophers the honor, he handed them the magnum of champagne. As they traversed the dock toward the prow of the ship, Walker was waylaid by a young child.
    “Captain, Captain,” the lad sang out, grabbing his coat sleeve and impeding his progress. “You be needin’ any more cabin boys on this voyage? I got experience.”
    The boy didn’t look old enough to have experienced his eighth birthday. “Not this time, son. But I’ll keep you in mind for the future. I can see you’ll make a fine sailor one day.”
    The child beamed with pride. Walker tousled the boy’s hair then followed the St.Christophers. They were already in place. The bottle broke over the hull, and a great cheer rose from those gathered around. Caught up in the moment, Walker halted mid-stride, adding his whoop and holler to that of the crowd. Head back in jubilation, his expression froze, and the sound of joy choked off in his throat. His order hadn’t been obeyed.
    As if in slow motion, the crate tumbled downward. Bystanders screamed in horror. He lunged forward to push his friends from the path of the deadly freight. They were too far away. Aware of their plight, fear contorted their faces. They clutched at one another, and in a heroic effort, Phillip shielded Ophelia from the huge object as it crashed to the ground.
    The cargo container smashed onto the dock, burst open, and spewed its contents in all directions. Thank providence it wasn’t a direct hit, yet the couple was trapped beneath slabs and heaps of splintered wood.
    “Send for a doctor,” Walker shouted.
    He pushed past panic-stricken people, ignoring the blur of comments about it being too late to save anyone caught beneath the mountain of rubble. With his bare hands he ripped and tore at the debris. Soon, others came to their senses and rushed forward. Employing a board and a barrel, they levered the accumulated weight off the pair. Their twisted bodies lay side by side, their hands still clasped together. Life barely flickered in either one of them. The unsigned ceremonial documents blew forlornly across the