Crimson Rapture Read Online Free PDF

faint
grumbling sound.
    Christina
swallowed her panic. "I didn't hear anything. Justin, I was
wondering—"
    "Be
still a moment," he ordered, suddenly suspicious and wanting his
suspicions confirmed. To Christina's horror the sound came again and he
exploded, "Damn you, Christina! You've been lying to me about this food,
haven't you? This isn't food left over from the others!"
    "Justin,
no... I—"
    "You've
been giving me your rations! Starving yourself for me—"
    "Oh,
but Justin, I don't need very much, honestly—"
    "I
assure you, young lady," he began harshly, furious at himself, "I am
perfectly capable of fending for myself. I don't need some slip of a girl
to—"
    "Please
don't be angry at me! I just can't bear it—" And demonstrating the truth
of this, she ran quickly away.
    * * * * *
     
    Captain
Forester stormed into his cabin and, before anyone could rush in with another
catastrophe, he shut and locked his door. He went immediately to the large oak
desk and withdrew a silver flask of rum. He pressed it to his lips, swallowed
several times without tasting, and then felt the hot burst of fire in his
stomach.
    He
was afraid. Everyone lived in fear, a tightening knot of dread in their
stomach. Fights broke out hourly among the crew. He had already confined nine
men to their quarters for insubordination. Left exhausted, worn and listless
from the meager rations and the severe heat, passengers remained in their
quarters, moaning their fate. Stretching food and water to minimum, they had a
mere handful of days left.
    A
mere handful of days. What to do? What to do?
    Owing
to Christina's nature, she wasn't suffering as much as the others, or if she
was no one ever heard about it. She busied herself helping others from dawn to
midnight, pulling and transporting bucket after bucket of cool salt water for
the brief comfort of a bath, serving the meager rations personally to those who
could no longer rise from bed. She became the right arm of the overburdened,
exhausted ship surgeon, Dr. Michaels. She surprised everyone, for no one had
suspected that such a delicate young lady possessed such a strong constitution.
She even managed to overcome her temerity to promise everyone the wind would
rise any time now to feed the sails before a real tragedy could happen.
    Even
she became alarmed the next morning. A vicious fight broke out in her small
quarters. She barely understood the initial outburst of words between Elsie and
Hanna and Marianna and Katie— something about a chamber pot—but suddenly the
women were all screaming at each other, cursing like any group of hardened
sailors and then, then Marianna flung the full pot in Elsie's face and Hanna
flung herself on Marianna. Like four crazed cats—all claws and teeth—arms and
legs flew wildly, hair pulled, bodies knocked against the wall. Stunned,
horrified, Christina had never seen anything like it in her life, and finally
managed to mobilize her dazed wits to run for help.
    She
wanted to speak with Justin, always finding comfort with him. But the day
rushed forward with one crisis after another. Dr. Michaels himself fell faint
in the early afternoon, leaving Christina with the burden of a growing number
of patients. She never stopped.
    Late
in the afternoon, Carrington opted for the short-term relief from both tension
and thirst in a bottle of potent rum. He knew well that ultimately, even within
a few hours, the rum would make his thirst a raging monster, especially
considering the meager substance he, like everyone else, was forced to subsist
on. He didn't care. Nor did it matter that the captain had banned all spirits,
or that he had stolen the rum from a mate. He was a desperate man, one who had
just faced the unbearable reality that he was doomed.
    And
he was so young! His career, his great ambitions, indeed his whole life had
stretched before him. All was lost, stolen by a dark unpleasant death lying in
wait around the corner.
    For
the better part of an hour the rum