The pressure in Joseph’s chest compelled him to keep going, to find someone to row him out to Esquimalt Lagoon near the naval base, where the Tynemouth was taking on fresh provisions and fuel in readiness for continuing the journey to the Hawaiian Islands. While the ship wasn’t scheduled to depart until midweek, Joseph wanted to board and weigh anchor as soon as possible.

He clasped his hands behind his back and stared across the straits. His breathing was ragged, his muscles tight, and his chest still burned.

What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he been looking forward to visiting Vancouver Island and exploring the area for the duration of the Tynemouth’s stay? And yet not once had he considered the landscape beyond a passing glance to the distant mountains. He hadn’t even been able to take in the glorious sunset the previous eve when they’d entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

“Where is a ship when you need one?” he muttered, looking around at the small boats moored nearby. Surely there was a fisherman or some other local who might be willing to ferry him to the Tynemouth.

As far as he could see, only empty boats bobbed in the mostly calm waters. Apparently every able-bodied man in Victoria was either attempting to get another glimpse of the bride-ship women or celebrating their arrival at one of the town’s many taverns.

He needed to leave and forget about Mercy. Then maybe the churning inside him would go away. Perhaps he’d find his sense of peace and adventure again.

But even as he attempted to rationalize his feelings, the gentle waves that rolled in and lightly rocked the wharf seemed to mock him. Had he sabotaged his proposal to Mercy yesterday so that she felt obligated to reject him? He certainly hadn’t spoken eloquently or tenderly. Instead, he’d brought up their class difference and had likely made her feel inferior.

Even if Captain Hellyer believed him to be a man who didn’t allow social status to influence him, clearly he still had much to learn about humility and treating others in a non-condescending manner.

With a groan, Joseph covered his face with both hands. He was a coward of the worst kind. Rather than staying and fighting for Mercy, for her reputation, for her safety, he’d started to run away again.

He turned back toward the fledgling town of Victoria. He’d find a way to meet with her again to discover the truth behind her plan to find a husband by Sunday. If she wanted marriage after all, then he’d have to convince her to choose him, this time asking for her hand with humility, as her equal. And if she still persisted with what she’d originally told him—that in fact she didn’t want to get married—then he’d help her gain the freedom she longed for.