A young woman's desire to serve God leads her on an unexpected journey of the heart. . . The year is 1798 and the British Naval Fleet is in the midst of fighting the war with Napoleon Bonaparte's France. Rebecca Halloway, a young English girl, has been a vibrant Christian for most of her eighteen years, but her faith is about to be tested. One evening, while walking home from a revival service in her home town of Portsmouth, England, her plans to set out for the mission field are waylaid when she is abducted and stolen away by a group of drunken English sailors. She finds herself aboard a vessel bound for Portugal, and manages to conceal her identity from the crew until she is able to escape her captors. Desperate to return home to England, she stows away on the 'Redemption', a massive, British warship under the strict command of Captain William Jameson, a seasoned officer with little tolerance for women. When her unauthorized presence is revealed, a fierce conflict ensues. Rebecca wants only to be returned to Portsmouth, where she can continue on with her plans to minister to the lost, while Captain Jameson and his crew aboard the Redemption only want her gone.

Rebecca's Redemption

Book OneBy Erin Heitzmann

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Erin Heitzmann
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-0275-6

Chapter One

Rebecca Halloway sat with pristine grace on the piano bench, her clear, emerald eyes dancing across the room toward Moira Bronlee who was seated at the organ. The two women were concluding the evening church service with a round of hymns, while the pastor sang along with the rest of the congregation. There was a jovial spirit in the quaint white building, and Rebecca thought it was the perfect conclusion for their week long revival celebration. The lively music continued long after the parishioners had wandered down to the basement in search of food, with Rebecca launching into a new hymn to see if Moira could keep up. Her bright eyes lit across the room to meet the steadfast gaze of the old woman, her soul reveling in the beautiful music, as well as in the spirited talent of her friend. Finally, with a chortle of defeat, Moira flung her hands into the air.

"I can't go on!" she conceded with a wry smile. "These old fingers have lost their stamina I'm afraid."

Rebecca laughed lightly and continued to play, her fingers dancing over the ivory keys, while she asked, "Are you staying for the dessert social, Moira?"

"I'll be staying," the old woman said, "but I'm not sure how social I'll be feeling."

Rebecca giggled, knowing that even in her grumpy state Moira was a love. She had been a fixture in the Church by the Sea since Rebecca had been an infant, and Moira was as dear to her as her own grandmother had been.

"Shall we go down then?" the woman asked, pushing herself to her feet with a grimace.

"Not tonight, Moira," Rebecca smiled. "I think I'll pass on the socializing and take the long way home to savor the evening instead."

"You'd best not set your mind on that, young lady," Moira cautioned with a stern scowl. "There'll be men about tonight with all those ships in port ..."

Rebecca gave a nonchalant toss of her head, having heard the cautious words of warning several times before. Although she had never felt threatened by the sailors who often meandered about the city, still she took great care not to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Portsmouth was a prominent hub for the massive British ships fighting the war with Napoleon Bonaparte's France, and when the sailors were granted shore leave, they spent most of their time imbibing in rum and drink in the various taverns scattered throughout town. Rebecca needn't have heeded the warning on this night, for she had seen on more than one occasion the effects of rum on otherwise genteel men.

Rebecca stood to her feet and moved to embrace the old woman. "I will be careful, Moira," she whispered, holding on to her dear friend a bit longer than usual. "And I'm going to take the path along the shore ... I won't even catch sight of one of those fearsome sailors. Eat a slice of pie for me," she added before turning to leave.

Moira watched Rebecca slip out the door, her short, auburn hair forming natural tendrils about her face in the moist air of the English coast. The old woman fretted over the girl as if she were her own and worried about her relentlessly, for she knew the girl was oblivious to the dangers that surrounded her living in a town such as Portsmouth. Many in the church's congregation shared Moira's concern for Rebecca's nave manner, for she was much adored by all who knew her. Now, as the old woman watched Rebecca wander down the path, she was tempted to follow after her, wanting to make sure no harm befell the girl, but instead she turned with a sigh to climb down the narrow steps of the sanctuary, her arthritic joints in no mood for a stroll.

Rebecca walked out into the cool evening breeze, reveling in her memories of the revival service. She considered the Church by the Sea her second home, and the parishioners the extended family that had been dearer to her than her own had been, for she seldom saw relations on either her mother or her father's side of the family. Her mother was of Irish decent, and her father was an Englishman, but having both been called into the service of the Lord as young adults, the family had spent time in Africa, France and Spain for most of Rebecca's young, childhood years, allowing little time to consort with cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. The Halloways had returned to England shortly before Rebecca's sixteenth birthday, and now, nearing adulthood, she was feeling the Lord calling her into the ministry as well, just as He had called her parents so many years before, her father as a doctor, and her mother as a school teacher. Having witnessed their faithful ministry to others with selfless abandon, she was a fresh sapling with roots that were firmly embedded in richly tilled soil. Rebecca had always known in the deepest depths of her soul that her only true happiness would be found in serving God, and having just recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday, she was preparing to return to the coast of Africa once again, this time as a young woman, and alone.

Rebecca left the safety of the church to meander down the path toward the shoreline, humming to herself the melodies of the hymns she and Moira had played that evening. The waves of the Atlantic Ocean were lapping at the moist sand, leaving no evidence of those who had passed by, while the sounds of the reveler's mirth were carried across the wind to her ears. At times like these she was grateful that she and her parents lived on the outskirts of Portsmouth, putting them a good distance away from the boisterous activities of both the lonely sailors, and those who chose to consort with them. Rebecca had seldom felt comfortable in the presence of young men, considering them instead a needless distraction from her calling, and so she avoided all who pursued her with romantic interests in mind. Moira needn't have voiced her concern on this night, Rebecca thought ruefully, for she was vigilant to keep a safe distance between herself and any male presence who might express an interest in something other than just a casual acquaintance. Rebecca smiled to herself at the thought of the old woman, and her unrelenting efforts to see Rebecca married and on her way to motherhood. A soft giggle escaped her as she continued on her way, intent on avoiding the rocks embedded in the craggy pathway.

Several feet ahead of where she walked, a group of unruly and overly imbibed sailors tussled at the water's edge. They had long ago been tossed from the taverns because of their raucous behavior, and now they sat in a drunken stupor on the beach making lewd comments to those who unknowingly wandered nearby. It wasn't long before one of them caught a distant glimpse of Rebecca from where he lounged on the damp sands of the shoreline.

"Well, have a look over there boys," he slurred, "... a wee lassie out for a stroll. What say we have a little fun?"

The men glanced towards Rebecca, their eyes filled with malicious intent, as they began to scatter into the leafy foliage of the brush lest she see them.

"Hey," slurred another. "Let's take her back to the ship with us. Seems a shame to partake of her pleasures for only one night!"

The others began to snicker in the darkness where they lingered, hidden from the girl's sight, while they waited for her to draw near.

Rebecca grew weary of the jagged rocks embedded in the ground, and was grateful when she finally arrived at a broad expanse of sandy terrain, where she was determined to remain...