by Marie Hall
“She’s been arguing with Lieutenant Coventon about something. Seems the point of contention is about her going aloft. It’s very windy.”
He didn’t need to be told that; the sway of the ship gave it away. “Have mercy,” Devin said and took the offered clothes. He needed fresh, but these would do for now. “I’ll be up shortly. Don’t let Mia throw the lieutenant overboard.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Quiggly said with a wicked grin. Mia it seemed was winning over more of his crew. God help him if she was planning mutiny.
Devin dressed and made his way topside. It wasn’t hard to spot Mia, nor to tell something had her up in arms. She was frantically gesturing out to sea. Coventon and Asher both stood beside her at the rail looking out through their spyglass in the direction she pointed. The wind was rather stiff and the waves high, all three reached for the rail more than once.
“There’s nothing out there. Now may we dispense with this nonsense?” Coventon asked making to fold the telescope. Mia snatched it away, extended it sharply, and put it to her eye.
“It’s right there. Thirty-two degrees east-southeast,” Mia said and handed back the tool and pointed again.
“Mrs. Winthrop,” Asher said looking through his glass. “I don’t see it.”
“I’m going up,” Mia snarled at them.
“No,” both men yelled.
“Then you go up.”
“Mrs. Winthrop?” Devin called, approaching the trio. His two crew members snapped to attention.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Devin greeted them.
“Morning, Captain,” they both muttered.
“What is at play this fine, early morning?” He sent a bit of a glare in Mia’s direction annoyed that she was topside so early causing a ruckus.
“There’s a ship off the portside and there’s something wrong with it,” Mia told him. Devin held out his hand and waved for one of the telescopes to be handed over. “For more than an hour now it’s been listing starboard and turning,” she continued. Devin stopped lifting the glass to his eye to look at her.
“How long have you been on deck, Mia?” Devin asked, setting the glass to his eye and trying to look past the choppy waters.
“She came up with my watch Captain,” Asher said as he, too, scanned the waters.
“I see nothing Mia, are you sure you saw a ship. Perhaps it was the reflection of the sun?”
“There’s a damn ship out there and something is wrong with it,” Mia snapped and started towards the main mast. “I’ll go up and tell you straight where to head.”
“You’ll not,” Devin ordered. “Not in these winds.”
“Captain, I’ll go up,” Mr. Asher offered.
“No,” Lieutenant Coventon said. “As I’ve said and the Captain has confirmed, the winds are too high to climb the mast for any unnecessary reason.”
Mia let out a frustrated growl and turned to slam her hands down on the rail. She was so sure. Devin again lifted the glass to his eye. But the chop and the dull morning light made it impossible to see more than several miles.
“Captain?” Mr. Asher pressed, almost pleading.
Devin cast his eyes up the length of the ship’s main mast. The flags whipped out violently, but the post itself wasn’t moving independently of the ship. Nor were the sails which were still furled, being whipped about. He looked again at Mia who looked out over the ocean. “Wear a safety line, Mr. Asher.”
“Aye,” the man shouted and dashed off.
“Captain?” Coventon sounded horrified.
“Mrs. Winthrop,” Devin called and watched her back stiffen before she turned to look at him. “I’m putting a man in peril. Are you certain you saw a ship?”
“Aye.” She again turned to look seaward.
“Mia?” Devin pressed, catching sight of Asher fitting a short rope around his body and reaching to hook the iron rings several pegs above his head. “Mia,” he called and took her arm so she looked at him. “You’re most certain?”
“Yes, Captain.” She nodded her head then turned back to the water.
“Go aloft, Mr. Asher,” Devin ordered. “Cautiously,” he added.
The man nodded and started the climb. A good sailor could scramble to the top in only a minute across any lines or posts. And he could do it in any weather if needed to secure the rigging and sails. The platform made for good place to look out, but if a man was aloft and the mast was brought down he’d be lost. The need to move the rings and keep the safety line from snagging slowed the man significantly. But he reached the platform, tied off and stood. Raising his glass, he began a slow search of the waters.
“Where again?” he called down.
“Thirty-two degrees, sixty miles, east-southeast,” Mia called, holding out her arm, palm flat, fingers pointed towards the bow and slowly swinging it towards the point she indicated.
Devin shook his head. He opened his mouth to tell his man to come down. His wife didn’t even use a compass. Looking up, he saw Asher pull one from his pocket. Devin suspected he was shooting an azimuth to help orient. A moment later he lifted the glass to his eye and Devin held his breath. The man looked, leaned forward, looked again, then shouted down.
“Ship off the portside, and she looks distressed.” He was already making his way down the mast.
“Mr. Quiggly,” Devin snapped at the man even as he rushed towards the bell. “Sound the call. All hands on deck. Raise sail. Ready to come about.” Devin continued to clip out orders as Mr. Quiggly rang the bell pulling most out of their berths. “Mia go below,” he said, heading towards the helm.
“What? Captain, why?” She stayed right on his heels.
“Go below, Mia,” he told her again and watched the storm of rebellion rise in her. “Go below, as soon as we are underway, I’ll come down.”
She glared at him suspiciously.
“I promise. Now go below.”
With a huff she changed course and made her way to their quarters.
For more than an hour the activity on deck was chaos. Anymore a navy ship’s mission was passive in nature. Pirate activity was rare, and trade routes and waters well-used prevented ships being attacked or wrecked. Truly, since the surrender of Bonaparte more than a decade ago, piracy had died off. The mad Frenchman used pirates to disrupt the naval campaigns, but without his sure funding they dwindled and with resources like silver dying out there was little to be had with pirating. Most captains were veteran sailors who knew the waters and could safely navigate them. For some reason, this ship was floundering.
Mia had said it listed hard and was in a set turn. It could be rudder or sail damage, but they were too far off to tell. As activity settled into urgent but routine sailing, Devin handed the wheel to another and made his way below deck. He needed to dress and not look like someone pulled suddenly from his bunk. Pushing open the door, he found Mia had already done so and now sat as Grim—of all people—worked twisting her hair into some fashion or another.
“Ah Captain, yes come. Good, Mia happy now. Dress, greet ship,” Mr. Hong said and pointed to the fresh uniform laid out.
Devin rubbed at his brow and sighed. As long as Mia was happy, he supposed other things could become a priority.
“Thank you, Hong,” Mia said. “Do you think you might find me a little food? And maybe something for Captain Winthrop?”
“Ah yes, food make Mia happy, go now,” Mr. Hong said, then indicated Grim should go too. The man handed Mia the end of the braid he’d been working, patted her shoulder, and walked out.
“How long before we come alongside, Captain?” Mia asked and reached for a ribbon.
“There’s a headwind and the sea is choppy, but I think four hours at most,” Devin said, stripping down and feeling a flush wash over him as his wife turned to watch him.
Have mercy. What they’d done last night—to have a woman so willing, a wife who created bliss in the bed, a female who stared boldly at a naked man and kept appreciation in her eyes as she did.
“Two hours
might be enough time,” Mia said, a wicked little smile on her lips.
“Enough time?” He saw her eyes drop then come back up. His half hard cock jumped and hardened more. “I can’t,” he groaned and put his foot in his pants leg. Mia rose so gracefully from her seat his cocked twitched again. Like the roll of a wave, that was how she moved.
“It looks like you can,” she said, as she came towards him.
“Well if you’d stop looking at me,” he said and saw the gleam in her eye grow warmer. “Or perhaps if you’d leave I might find some control.”
“Leave? The cabin?” She came closer.
“The cabin would be a good start. But you might need to leave the ship, maybe the hemisphere. No, no I’m pretty sure you’d have to leave the world to be far enough away.” He straightened, pulling his pants over his hips, as Mia stepped up and set her hand on his chest.
“You want me to leave, Captain?” Her sultry voice nearly sank his resolve. And when her hand dropped to his groin, fished down in his breeches and found his cock, he knew he wasn’t getting on deck as fast as he’d thought.
“Mia,” his voice sounded pained to his own ears. He couldn’t do this. He had responsibilities. He took her hand and pulled it away. A pout claimed her face. “There’s no reason for you to leave. Even if you made it to the moon, I’d think of you, and thinking of you is all it takes for this.”
That cheered her. “Well, perhaps we should go topside so you can put your thoughts elsewhere,” she said, reaching for his shirt.
“Mia,” he said taking the hand that held the shirt and pulling her against him. “You’re always in my thoughts no matter where I am.” She actually purred. He heard it and felt the rumble as he leaned down to kiss her. Such a soft, gentle contact. Sweet. Different from the other kisses they shared and as capable as those to make him ache for her.
“I think you need to be on deck, as much as I might want to be on some beach with you.” She lifted his belt as he straightened his shirt tails and smoothed his pants.
Her mentioning a beach made him recall his dream and again his cock strained against the cage he’d put it in. Mia helped him finish dressing and as he sat to pull on his boots, Mr. Hong came in with a tray.
“Crew eating, dressing too. Short order, come on deck. No time. Now ready,” he said setting the tray down and moving back to the door. “Eat, come on deck, see ship all sideway in water.”
Devin and Mia both started, but Mia shook her head and indicated Mr. Hong may not have picked the correct words to describe what was learned about the distressed ship they closed down on.
“If it’s serious, one of the crew would come tell you,” Mia said lifting a chunk of mango to her lips.
“Right,” Devin sighed wanting so much to be that lucky piece of fruit.
Twenty minutes later he didn’t feel lucky. Mia was again on a rampage.
Chapter 12
“Turn about and let them sink,” Mia said again and watched Devin rub his forehead like he had a headache.
“Mrs. Winthrop, I’ll remind you we’re a Royal Navy vessel and are duty bound to attend this matter,” Lieutenant Coventon said, though he might too agree with her desire. Given how much disdain she’d been seeing as they closed in, the entire ship would agree if she turned out to be correct.
“Look at it. It’s a damn slaver. Let it sink and to hell with its devil of a crew.” She’d spotted the Dutch flag the second she stepped on deck. She then confiscated Devin’s spyglass and began the constant inspection she’d kept up for the last half hour. “Fire on it. Sink it.”
“That’s not how it is done, Mrs. Winthrop,” Devin reminded her.
Stupid Navy and its stupid rules.
“If it’s a slaver, how did it get past the patrols at Côte d'Ivoire?” Mr. Brinks asked.
“Some slip through,” Devin answered.
Brinks sounded like he believed nothing bested the British Navy. Mia would enjoy showing how fallible they were. “By going east first, making it appear she came out of Madagascar,” Mia said, looking through the glass at the ship.
“The eastern trade is still strong,” Mr. Asher informed the man. “Most of the west has gotten onboard with the accords to end the trade, but the east still has allies.”
“Oh, you’ll puff out your chest with the ‘we in the west’ lie,” Mia snapped as she slapped the spyglass shut and turned to face them. “You in the west are as complacent in this barbarism as the rest of the world.”
“Mrs. Winthrop,” Coventon growled. “The British empire has worked tirelessly to end the trade. The Abolition Act was signed in more than twenty years ago. The crown doesn’t approve of this.”
“Is that your official posture sir? Because I assure you I could have a vessel rigged in any number of British held ports and if not in port not far off. And let me tell you more, sir, about your Abolition Act. It only extended to the trade not the institution. Slaves are legally held by a grand number of British subjects. The British and any number of those accorded nations will tax my sugar, cotton, and rum higher because I don’t employ slaves on any of my holding. Might as well throw chum in the water and call in the sharks. They make money keeping people as chattel with the British taxing done these days.” She turned again and looked at the ship. They couldn’t be that ignorant, could they?
“If it’s a slaver Mrs. Winthrop, we can confiscate it. The captain and owner will be fined. A hundred pounds per slave found aboard,” Brinks said.
“Oh aye, confiscate the ship, only to sell it back to another slaver. And sell it back using British credit in the yards. A fine whirlpool you have there.” The way it was rigged up made her head spin. And even while the crown put patrols around the Ivory Coast, it did nothing to protect the Irish or those convicted of crimes from being sold into slavery far from home.
It had been twenty years since the law was enacted, and seven since the last nation, Spain, agreed to suppress the trade and people were taken from their homelands and forced to labor with no compensation.
“Why do you continue to watch, Mrs. Winthrop?” Brinks asked, “If you’re sure it’s a slaver, what are you looking for?”
“It’s not uncommon, Mr. Brinks,” Devin stepped up and took the glass from Mia, “for a slaver to dump cargo if they’re about to be set upon by someone with the power to punish them. In order to find them guilty, we must find the people on board. It isn’t enough to find only the fitting and equipment.” He handed the glass back to Mia. “Perhaps it isn’t a slaver after all. They must see us coming, but they haven’t lost their cargo.”
“It’s not cargo,” Mia hissed. “Its people. And again, a fine whirlpool. Why have chains and such if not to hold slaves?”
Devin only inclined his head.
Devin sighed again as he looked back at his wife and then down at the people working to salvage the ship. Indeed, the ship was disabled with a gash in the stern barely above the waterline, a smashed rudder, and a cracked stock. The captain, a dubious man by the name of Gillmore, was vague and inconsistent about the damage done to the ship. Mia was quick to accuse him of hitting rocks when he came up through the notoriously rough waters around the island of Madagascar. Going east to avoid the ships that did nothing else along the Ivory Coast but capture slave ships in the act made sense. And given the nervous looks that passed between the men who’d come aboard the Iron Rose, Devin conceded Mia was right again in her assessment. That the ship made it this far was a feat.
“Tie an anchor to his neck. See how he likes to be cargo tossed to the waves,” Mia said.
“Mrs. Winthrop,” Mr. Quiggly said, standing beside her. “Let the captain work. We’ve recourse, but first we must save the souls.”
“I appreciate your aid Captain Winthrop,” Captain Gillmore said, again to bait Mia, as he’d been doing from the moment she made her posture clear. “My ship and cargo are much valued by the people I work for.”
“We’ll see you to port in St. Eustatius, Captain, but I’ll h
ave your papers confirmed by the magistrate before I return either your ship or those people,” Devin said gripping his wrists behind his back to refrain from punching the smug man in the mouth. As soon as the hold was opened, Devin knew he was looking at a slaver. But damn if the man didn’t hold papers saying he only transported current slaves from one plantation to another, a completely legal act.
“You confirm my papers,” the man said and then laughed. “Then we’ll be on our way. Governor Ravoix is a good man.”
“He is corrupt as hell is what he is,” Mia said again, stepping towards Gillmore.
“Mrs. Winthrop, if you please,” Devin warned.
“I don’t and you need to do something,” she said and pointed to the line of men in chains being directed where to sit on the deck of the Iron Rose until they reached port.
“We’ll verify his papers, which is all we can do.”
“All you can do? You don’t need to verify his papers.” Mia stormed past them, walking directly up to the men who watched her with a wary eye. Devin felt his heart stop at the thought one of them might grab her. Her first words were French, Devin recognized them, but the next several sentences were in several different languages. She tried a number of them until she got a response. The thin, dark-skinned man who spoke had a fear in his eyes Devin could’ve seen from the other side of the world. The conversation persisted for only a few minutes before Captain Gillmore developed that same fear.
“Shut up,” he yelled, heading towards Mia. “You shut your mouth. I didn’t give you permission to speak to them, you witch.” Devin was chasing him down, but a member of Gillmore’s crew raised a whip. Mia’s conversation became even more frantic as she realized any time to gather information was waning. Devin kept his focus on Mia, intent to get to her before Gillmore could do more than scream like a madman. But from the corner of his eye, he saw the whip unfurl and the man draw back his arm. It took only a slight motion and Mr. Quiggly was there to step on the tail so when the man’s arm came forward he lost his grip.
“Not on this ship, sir.” Mr. Quiggly said, collecting the whip and tossing it over the rail.