“Blimey, I saw it, too,” Jane said, shrinking back.
“Rocks dead ahead, sir!”
Jane crossed her chest. “Holy Father, protect us.”
“It’s going to be all right, Jane. I’m sure of it.” She hated the lie that tainted her lips. Already she’d begun to suspect the lead lights had been calculatingly placed to steer them for the rocks instead of away from them, endangering their lives like lambs being herded to slaughter. If she was right, that meant the ship in the distance had something to do with what was happening to them now. What if the other ship intended to pilfer what was left in the hold for contraband or even storm the Mohegan, killing all on board?
Holy charity, were they going to be victims of wreckers?
A fierce, stabbing pain pinched Chloe’s chest. If the Mohegan broke on the rocks, there was little chance they’d survive the tempestuous surf. She couldn’t bring herself to think of what might happen if the men on the other ship came aboard, as she suspected was their purpose.
Pirates! Was that the Black Regent’s ship?
Elation consumed her, quickly followed by a dreadful plunge into fear. But no. It couldn’t be. The Regent had never run a ship aground. That wasn’t the pirate’s style. His was a noble legacy shaking the rich to pocket the poor. She should know; she’d followed his activities closely in Trewman’s Exeter Flying Post.
No. Whoever was targeting them had more sinister plans. She had the sneaking suspicion that ship meant to drive them into the rocks in order to pilfer their stores, something she’d heard was a regular occurrence along the coast.
Oh, how I wish the Black Regent were here . . .
The horrible truth cut Chloe deeply. If they hit the rocks, not even the Regent could save them.
“Oh, m’lady, what are we to do?” Jane’s whine settled over Chloe’s shoulders like a scorching mantle that no errant wave could extinguish.
“Shh. Quiet now.” It would do neither of them any good if they lost control of their wits. “We must ask ourselves, what would Theodore do?”
“Theodore?” Jane’s eyes expanded as wide as the moon shining above them. “Ye think of Otranto now?”
Jane was right, of course. Chloe understood her reasoning. Just the same, she couldn’t stop the hysteria from bubbling out of her chest. “There is much to be learned from books. One only has to read the right ones.” She squeezed Jane’s hands, hoping to take her maid’s mind off their terrifying circumstances. “We must go below and collect whatever we can—money, clothes, and my book.”
“Books again?” Jane covered her eyes. “M’lady, we may die this night.”
But Chloe had made up her mind. Books were her buoys. “I will not go to my grave without my book.”
“Very well. Let us be quick before we are discovered, or worse, we are caught belowdecks if the ship sinks.”
“Come,” Chloe said, grabbing Jane’s hand as they snuck off toward the companionway.
They took the ladder down, then shuffled quickly through the passageway leading to their cabin. Chloe quickly pushed open the screen door. It swung off its hinge as she hurriedly went to work, gathering things they might need.
“Quickly,” she said to Jane. “Collect our clothes. I’ll claim responsibility for my belongings.”
Chloe ignored the inkwell and parchment she’d savored and grabbed her shawl instead, binding the Turkish fabric around Otranto in several layers before placing the book in a tapestry bag. She clutched her worldly prize to her chest and prayed it would be spared a dousing of seawater.
“We are like Emily and her servants, Annette and Ludovico, in The Mysteries of Udolpho fleeing for our lives.”
Jane ignored her, instead ushering Chloe to the cabin entrance. “Quickly now. We must ’urry, m’lady.”
Without a backward glance, Chloe followed Jane out of the cabin.
Men swept past them at a frenzied pace. No one even bothered to ask forgiveness for knocking the two women into a bulkhead or two.
Jane snapped at the crew, demanding they apologize to her mistress. “How dare ye! ’Ave a care, I say!”
“Do not fret, Jane.” Chloe brushed aside the crew’s rude behavior. After all, they would both owe their very lives to these men should they succeed in delaying their deaths.
“Come.” Bearing their burdens, Chloe held Jane’s hand as they ascended to the quarterdeck.
Shouts met their ears as men scurried across the deck into action.
“All hands!” the captain yelled. “We are still afloat and should count our blessings, Mr. Owens.”
Jane gasped and fell to her knees as Mr. Owens, the paged boatswain, bolted past her.
“Are you hurt?” Chloe knelt beside Jane and curled her fingers under her servant’s arms to help the girl rise to her feet. “Do not fault them.”
Captain Teague appeared then, his face a tightened mask. “What are you two doing on deck?”
Chloe raised her chin. “If we hit the rocks, sir, I shall not sit below waiting to drown.”
“Do not purchase our fate before it’s been forged.” Captain Teague’s face bloated like a hungry frog’s. “But prepare yourselves. We’re in for the fight of our lives.”
A mast emitted a terrible moan overhead, breaking away and tearing at ropes that snapped and popped, distracting the captain. “She’s fighting us.” He turned to his men. “Ho, boys! Break your backs! Man those braces!”
“The lights have disappeared!” a young lad named Tucker shouted, his face soaked with salty brine.
The Mohegan shifted and a rogue wave rained down over the deck. Chloe clutched her book to her chest, holding on to Jane with all her might as they scooted back across the deck trying to grab anything that wasn’t moving.
Men cried out into the blackness, and the ship crashed against the rocks, the force jolting Chloe and Jane to their knees as they fought to keep from slipping to their deaths. The deck tilted drastically to port, then back again. Beneath them, the hull let out a dreadful death knell, the timber protesting.
Jane’s fingers began to slip out of Chloe’s hand. “M’lady! Don’t let me go!”
“No, Jane. Never!” Chloe held on tightly, biting her lower lip to keep from losing her grip.
Jane clutched the bundle of their clothes to her chest.
“Let go of the satchel, Jane. Give me your other hand!”
“I wouldn’t be worth savin’ if I lost your things.”
“I have what I need most.” Pain, worry, and fear were etched into Jane’s stare while Chloe fought to keep hold of her hand. Then, all too quickly, the ship righted and, with a massive groan, heaved the other direction.
The crew struggled to operate the vessel against nature’s fury and watched helplessly as debris crushed the jolly boats positioned at the forecastle.
“Abandon ship!” Captain Teague shouted.
Without the boats or a way to debark, one by one, the men disappeared into the water, abandoning ship, while several officers and members of the crew remained on deck, trying without fail to keep the Mohegan afloat. In the midst of breaking timber, grinding wood, and shredding rope, Chloe could hear crew members warning one another about the rocks as they plunged into the frigid waves, splashing, shouting, swimming toward a distant haven where lantern light gleamed in the distance.
Chloe turned to Jane, hope swelling in her breast before her blood ran cold. In the melee she had somehow forgotten that Jane didn’t know how to swim. She swallowed hard. What were they to do?
The difficulty now, however, wasn’t swimming as much as being able to survive the rough surf, the rocks, and what Chloe prayed wasn’t waiting for the crew on shore—wreckers.
Captain Teague struggled toward them. He took Jane’s shivering hand and pulled her up to her feet.
“Thank ye, sir. Thank ye,” Jane cried, rising to clutch Chloe like a frightened child.
Chloe, who was equally terrified about the outcome of their well-being, held on to Jane as if her
life depended on it. She was well aware that Jane’s life did.
“We’ve hit the rocks.” The captain’s face contorted madly as splintering timber cracked above their heads. He peered upward just as a yardarm broke free and barreled toward them, dragging rigging and canvas that was apt to crush anything in its path. His hair flattened to his face, Captain Teague pushed them backward. Chloe and Jane nearly lost their balance as he positioned his body between them and the falling debris.
When Jane screamed, Chloe said a silent prayer that someone would save them.
Captain Teague offered no hope. “I’m afraid we’re done for.”
There was no question he blamed himself for their fates, though it was apparent the blame should be cast elsewhere. He turned toward shore. Hopefully his men would find safety near the beckoning lights. But Chloe sensed he knew, more than suspected, that wouldn’t be the case.
“If I don’t miss my guess, we’re not far off Coverack,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ll have to swim for it, the both of you. I wish more than anything that there was more I could do to help you, but I cannot leave my ship.”
“You mean you will not lea—” Chloe choked, unable to finish her sentence as her mind jumped to dramatic conclusions. If the captain didn’t leave his ship that meant he would perish with it, and so would they. No, no, no! She couldn’t allow it.
“Going down with your ship is an absurd notion. We need your help. You cannot abandon us, Captain Teague. Jane cannot swim. You must take us to shore.”
“Do you see my men?” He didn’t wait for her response. “They are swimming to shore. Even if our boats weren’t damaged, there still wouldn’t be enough time to get them into the water. No, that time has passed. Now are you going to swim for it, or do I have to throw you into the drink and force you to?”
Jane screamed hysterically.
“Jane! Do not listen to him. You must not give up! Not now. Not ever!” Chloe was in the process of shaking sense into Jane when blood-curdling screams erupted from the shore. The sound was so horrific, it startled Chloe. Her breath caught, and her heart shuddered to a brutal stop.
“What is that?” she asked. Never in her entire life had she heard such agony.
Captain Teague visibly tensed, and the color drained from his face. He moved quickly to the off-kilter railing.
Chloe pulled Jane along, following close behind, determined not to be parted from him. Their only chance of staying alive rested with the captain.
“Christ!” His curse resounded. “They’re butchering them! My men are being cut down before they can even rise from the water!” He threw off his hat and tore at his hair. “No!” He pointed his arm to the men struggling in the waves closest to the ship. “Come back! It isn’t safe!”
Struck numb like a frightened doe, a bizarre urge pulled at Chloe’s soul. She followed the length of the captain’s finger and looked in the direction it arrowed. What had he seen?
As her gaze settled on the welcoming lights moving on shore, moonlight cleared the clouds, stripping her innocence bare.
Jane screamed, and Chloe covered her mouth to stifle her cry as lantern light cast several figures in silhouette. Men thrashed in the water, eager for the promise of safety the land offered. But hulking figures yanked the unsuspecting crewmen up by their hair and either bludgeoned them to death or detained them, holding their bodies underwater.
Who were these murderers? Who would do such a thing?
A tortured sob burst from Chloe’s throat as what was left of the Mohegan’s crew floated one toward another, bobbing motionlessly with the tide until they landed lifeless on the beach.
Laughter traveled on the air, a cacophony of maniacal glee as the murderers trudged through the waves, entrapping more victims.
“Captain! Help us!” men cried out.
Captain Teague leaned over the rail and choked up his accounts.
Tears blinded Chloe’s eyes as the tide brought more frightened men closer to shore. It isn’t real. It can’t be real. These men had families, futures, loves, and desires. They were men who’d worked tirelessly to bring her safely to Penzance, men who’d listened to her read segments of her beloved book. But God in heaven, it was real. And the images firmly entrenched themselves in her soul.
A fractured scream lodged in her throat, the sorrowful wail wedged inside her like a demon, clawing, scratching, threatening to cleave her into pieces.
“’elp them!”
How had Jane found the ability to speak when she’d been struck dumb?
Captain Teague turned toward Chloe and Jane. “We cannot go ashore. Our only hope is to make one of the Mohegan’s jolly boats seaworthy.”
“Can they help us, Captain?” She pointed her finger to the men who were fighting the cresting waves, stroking and kicking to keep from getting tossed upon the rocks as they made their way back to the ship.
He craned his neck toward her pointed finger and followed her line of vision. “Yes,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. He climbed over the side, gripping boarding ropes and leaning outward and down with more dexterity than she’d previously granted him, to offer his hand to anyone within reach.
She grabbed Jane’s arm. “Come. We must do whatever we can to help the captain.”
A crewman approached, nursing his head, then slipped on the deck. Jane dropped their belongings and moved to help the man regain a foothold.
Chloe, possessed with a courage and strength she hadn’t known she had, brandished a hand to another man named Flynn, his face bloodied as he ascended the ropes dangling over the battens along the hull to the deck.
“Thank you, my lady,” Flynn said with a timid smile.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you.”
“No time.” Flynn rose, then moved back to the side, gently pushing Jane out of the way to offer his brawny strength to help a man aboard. She recognized him as Doyle.
The Mohegan pitched, groaning another death knell, her fracturing hull making Chloe almost believe a leviathan cracked it open from beneath.
Captain Teague shifted his attention from rescuing his men to the ship once more. “Flynn. Doyle. We must try to get one of our boats in the water. We haven’t got long.”
Pfft! Boom!
Jane clutched her chest.
“What is that?” Chloe asked, running to the opposite rail as the whoosh of impact on the sea’s surface echoed in the distance. The deafening roar and what she knew deep down was impotent cannon fire had not originated from the direction of the ship offshore, the one she’d seen following them earlier.
Pfft! Boom!
This time an orange spark of light erupted, highlighting muted canvas as a new obstacle, a silhouetted vessel farther out to sea, sailed closer to their imperiled ship.
Chloe and Jane rushed to the left side of the vessel, facing forward, at the larboard rail. The attacker’s aimed lob hit its target, igniting an inferno aboard the ship closer to shore, whittling their enemy’s shape out of darkness.
Wet, her clothes clinging to her body and her hair plastered to her face, Chloe shivered. Which of these evils posed the greater danger? Drowning in the Mohegan as it cracked into pieces; swimming toward shore and possibly getting pounded against the rocks, which also led to drowning; making it to shore only to be bludgeoned to death; or being taken prisoner by either ship battling at sea?
And which ship—the one driving them on to the rocks or the one attacking that ship—posed the greater risk? Did anyone mean to save them or did the men on both ships want the Mohegan’s cargo?
Chapter 3
KING GEORGE decrees the BLACK REGENT is a menace to society. BEWARE, all who join his ranks, for you will find FREE TRADE is not a lucrative BUSINESS. Your ACTIVITIES will be THWARTED by PREVENTATIVE MEN who will NOT rest until they END the infamous Black Regent’s REIGN!
~ Sherborne Mercury, 30 July 1809
Markwick braced his feet against the shuddering recoil of jolting cannon. “Hold you
r fire! Keep her steady!”
“Dead aim, Cap’n. She’s a burnin’. Don’t ’spect she’ll give the other’n problems now.” Pye laughed gleefully.
“Could be a ploy,” Markwick said, trying to snap the man back to reality.
“Do ye reckon they ’tend to lure us in, too?”
“That’s a risk we cannot take.” He lifted his mask, positioning it into place over his eyes, and then tied the ends behind his head. “I don’t trust anything about this, Pye, but we cannot allow wreckers to kill innocents. Especially if that ship is the Mohegan and our runaway is on board.”
Pye turned away from Markwick and shouted orders at their scurrying crew. “Move quickly! Get the cutters in the water and heave-ho! That hull won’t hold together much longer. Those poor souls won’t last.”
Markwick turned toward the shifting heap of broken timber, backlit by lanterns on shore as the wreckers impatiently awaited more victims to silence. On board the ship, which was struggling against the rocks and surf, he spied a few silhouetted forms, most likely what was left of the ship’s crew, waving their hands in desperation.
“Devil doubt it, more than enough of them have already seen the wrong end of a club. We must do whatever we can before the ship breaks apart completely and they drown.”
Pye nodded. “Aye, Cap’n. What be your orders?”
“Watch that ship. If it tries to stop us, send it back to hell.”
“Without ye, sir?”
“Worried you’ll have all the fun, eh?” Markwick put a hand on Pye’s shoulder.
“I’m worried about ye gettin’ killed tryin’ to make sure Walsingham’s sister isn’t on that wreck.”
Markwick hoisted himself over the rail, setting his boots on the battens to prepare for the climb down. “What if she is?”
Pye pursed his lips. “Should we send another boat?”
“Yes. We’ll grab who and what we can. But I don’t want to spend too much time hauling cargo off that ship while another one waits to fight for it just offshore.” He chanced another look in the wreckers’ direction. “Engage, if needed, with successive blows, but otherwise stay your lines and wait for our return. I will not come back until every man, woman, and child is accounted for on board that ship. Understood?”
When a Rogue Falls Page 31