Bittersweet Voyage

By Jenny Howard

The unfortunate victim in a conspiracy to embezzle her family's fortune, Abigail is abducted and sold to pirates. But when the rogue ship is lost and the conspirator realizes the prize survives, the pursuit begins.

Abigail is swept into a tumultuous adventure. From an idyllic island haven where she finds purpose and belonging, to the slave colony on the throes of a fearsome revolution, Abigail fervently seeks God's deliverance.

Can Abigail endure until her faith and trust in God are brought to fruition? Will the grace of God carry her home?

'For I know the plans that I have for you,' says the LORD, 'plans for peace and not of evil, to give you hope and a future.' Jeremiah 29:11 NHEB(ASV)

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468575729

Jenny Howard

Bittersweet Voyage is Jenny Howard's book debut. She and her family make their home on Maryland's beautiful Eastern Shore. In addition to writing, Mrs.Howard enjoys reading, gardening and teaching Sunday school.

Book preview

© 2012 by Jenny Howard. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/04/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7573-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7572-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Author’s Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

Scriptures with References

Author’s Note

This book is the finished product of a story I wrote almost twenty years ago! After rediscovering the manuscript when we moved into our new home, I shared it with my daughter, who read it and liked it so much she chose it for a school book report. Since then, I’ve been encouraged by family and friends to give my story a polish and put it out there.

It would bring me great joy if I can bless others by encouraging their faith, especially through the simple pleasure of reading. I hope you’ll enjoy reading Bittersweet Voyage. God bless you!

Jenny Howard, 2007

To my mother,

MARYANN SCHOONOVER

". . . the kindest, most admirable woman I’ve ever known."

  1

Boston Harbor - October, 1790

Standing on the wharf as the veil of morning fog lifted, a man waited, watching the activities of fishermen preparing their rigs for another long day in their laborious profession. He breathed in the cold air deeply. The smell of mackerel and codfish was a familiar odor on the banks along the harbor and vaguely reminded him of his childhood home across the Atlantic. He recalled his years as a young lad in Liverpool, helping to gut, clean, salt and dry the fish for the market. Any scraps not pecked over by competing seagulls were left behind to rot into the wooden planks of the dock, and the waste not saved for chum was poured over into the stagnating water beneath.

The man turned around at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He spat the remnants of chewing tobacco out to the side. Yer message said to meet here before dawn. Yer a bit late.

"I’m paying you, Reed."

What’er ye say, Boss, Reed replied as he straightened, boasting his height—a head taller than the other man. He raised a thick eyebrow and looked over the shorter man’s lavish attire. You’ve got the money; I’ll sail me ship.

Have you loaded your cargo?

Yessir. And I must say we should fare well with the ammunitions. Nice to add somethin’ with a wee bit more kick—and profits—than rum! But, that ain’t what ye summoned me here for, eh?

The Boss lowered his voice. "It’s time for you to pick up the, ah, passenger we discussed. All should be ready tonight."

Aye. Reed acknowledged quietly.

Make it happen well after midnight, the Boss instructed as he unfolded a piece of paper, revealing a hand-drawn map of the shoreline. With a well manicured finger he pointed to an X. This is where you’ll drop anchor. And, this,—he slid his finger over to another X and tapped on it—this is the place.

Reed looked over the map. This’ll work, he said, then stuffed the paper into the pocket of his breeches.

The Boss looked about warily as activity increased on the wharf. I assume my man has already joined your crew?

Oh, indeed he has. I’ve me doubts, though. He’s not a seaman, and he’s, uh… a bit quick-tempered. Ya sure it’s him ye want on this errand?

You’re the captain, Reed. Discipline him if you must; but he has a job to do, and that’s to make certain the pawn I’m removing from the game stays out of play for a very long time.

A bit of chess, eh? What then be yer next move?

That will depend upon which direction my opponent moves.

I see. And, why Jamaica?

Need you ask? the Boss answered slyly.

Hmm… , Reed scratched his beard as he thought. British soil. And, located near the edge of the reach of the rebel Americans. Reed nodded. I like it.

So glad you agree. The Boss pulled forth a money pouch and smacked it into the captain’s waiting palm.

Reed opened it greedily and pressed his fingers into the coins as he peered inside. I prefer gold, but this amount of silver will do me just fine. He weighted the pouch in his hand. Appreciate the extra, but why not use one o’ yer own ships?

When Reed looked up, the Boss had already gone off in the direction he came.

Captain Reed chuckled and then walked down the dock, tossing the money pouch up into the air and catching it again and again, while whistling the tune of ‘How Pleasant a Sailor’s Life Passes’.

  2

The autumn winds mingled with a chilling mist and tugged on the girl’s heavy, woolen cloak as the horse she was riding galloped along the road above the craggy coast. Wavy, deep auburn tresses spilled out over her shoulders when the gusts prevailed and loosened the hood from her head.

She stopped momentarily to rest the winded mare and looked out over the wide, green-gray ocean. The sea spray reached out for her with every pounding wave as the waters exploded against the massive rocks below. She shivered in the cold dampness and looked toward the setting sun, realizing there was little daylight left to reach her destination.

After arranging her hair back into the hood of her cloak, the girl patted the chestnut mare’s neck. Giving two clicks of her tongue and a nudge with her boot, she hastened her forward.

Soon, flickering lights in the windows of a whitewashed cottage could be seen ahead.

We’re almost there, Shanna, the girl spoke softly to her horse. It looks like another quarter mile and we’ll be warm and dry with our dearly missed friends.

When they arrived, they were welcomed into the stable by a hearty neigh from a sturdy, old gelding.

Well, greetings to you, too, Earl Grey! the girl giggled.

She dismounted and led Shanna into the stall beside him. After unbuckling her knapsack from the saddle and giving each of the horses an affectionate rub on the nose, she walked out and followed the stone path to the door of the charming house and knocked.

A rosy-cheeked woman, who wore her graying brunette hair pulled back in a bun, emerged from the doorway. She was dressed in mourning clothes, yet a smile lit across her face when she saw the girl.

Abigail! I’m so pleased to see you, the woman declared as she reached out to embrace her, and pulled her inside. I received James’ message, but I must admit I’m a bit surprised.

That Papa James had finally given me permission to make the ride alone? I can’t believe it myself, Sarah. I was so thankful I actually gave him a great big hug!

Sarah smiled weakly, and pursed her lips. I would have rather he had you escorted, considering the distance and the unpredictable weather. She shrugged it off with a sigh. But, you’re here now, and you’re safe.

Sarah gently nudged her to the hearth. Take off your cloak and boots while I prepare some tea.

Once Abigail warmed herself by the fire, she sank into the soft, thick cushions of the couch. She found further comfort looking around the sitting area of her friend’s simple, but inviting home. A stunning tapestry of Native American design hung above the fireplace, and colorful rugs were scattered across the wide, wooden floor. Across the room was a chair as ample as the couch on which she sat, and in front of it stood a weaving loom which held another piece Sarah had not yet completed. She had learned the art from Oneida women when she and her husband lived with them in the New York colony as missionaries many years before.

It feels so wonderful to be here, Abigail said when Sarah emerged from her kitchen carrying a tray and two steaming teacups. Abigail picked up one of the full cups and held it close for warmth.

Sarah set the tray on the table before them and sat down with Abigail. I’m so glad you’re here, too, she said.

Abigail quietly sipped the relaxing drink. She looked up sadly. I’m so sorry for you Sarah, for your husband, Reverend Phillips.

Thank you, I do miss Franklin terribly. But, he is in glory with our Lord. She looked up. I often think, ‘I wonder what he’s doing right now—in Heaven.’ Sarah smiled peacefully, and then looked at her young friend. You know I didn’t want to leave you, she added.

Abigail reached for Sarah’s hand. Oh, I know. It’s just that first Mama died, then your husband became ill—and he needed you. Now, you’re alone, and I miss Mama too. They’re in Heaven with Jesus, but what happens to us?

"The Lord is all that is good, and his ways are far above our understanding. He loves each one of us so much more than we could ever imagine. The most important thing for you and me to do, my dear,