“Not if I can help it,” Will said.
Caversham gave him a watery smile. “You won’t be able to, if I’ve anything to say about it.”
The ship lurched again, and now the stern listed at a treacherous angle. God… there wasn’t enough time for idle chitchat—certainly not enough time to stand here listening to Caversham’s tripe.
Will stared at him for another second. This was the man who’d kept Meg from him for the past eight years. This was the man who’d tried to crush her spirit, taken away her trust and her hopes for the future.
Without any further hesitation, he drew his gun, aimed it at Caversham, and shot.
At the same time, Caversham dove at him. The bullet whizzed over the man’s head and struck the mizzenmast, burying itself into the thick oak.
Caversham’s weight barreled into Will’s middle, and they both went crashing to the deck. Caversham rolled to the top, grabbing Will’s coat in one hand, pummeling his fists into Will’s face, his chest.
They tumbled about, grunting and cursing, the dull sounds of connecting blows, of smacking flesh, renting the air along with the clashes and shouts of the men running and fighting around them.
Caversham pinned Will beneath him. Over and over he punched him. Blood flowed over Will’s face. He struggled, but his movements turned sluggish. Then his arms dropped, limp, at his sides. His hand searched desperately for his other pistol, but it was pinned beneath Caversham’s thigh.
On his knees straddling Will, Caversham kept hitting him, cursing, sweating, his face livid with exertion and rage. Then he wrapped his long, aristocratic fingers around Will’s neck and squeezed.
Harsh choking noises emerged from Will’s throat as he clawed at the bastard’s arm, trying to get free. But Caversham was apparently made of steel. Heat flushed through Will’s face as Caversham cut off all air, all blood flow between his neck and the rest of his body.
Vaguely, he heard a thin voice coming from behind him. “You let go of Captain Will! Let go of him! I hate you! I hate you, I say!”
Caversham’s head snapped up, and he looked up toward the door of his quarters.
Will took advantage of the short distraction. His fist shot out and smashed into the side of Caversham’s face, connecting with a sickening crack. Caversham crumpled over him but recovered quickly, jumping to his feet.
Will lurched up, grabbing the man’s legs and making him stumble back as, with another explosive splintering sound, the angle of the deck increased by several degrees. Will wiped dribbling blood from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then grabbed a nearby rope lashed to a deck cleat to keep himself from sliding into the sea.
He couldn’t take the time to look at Jake, but sent a quick prayer that the boy had found something to hold on to. Around them, a few men dangled on ropes while others slid screaming down the deck, and splashes sounded as men and parts of the ship crashed into the churning ocean below.
Farther down the deck, Caversham was scrabbling like a crab, grabbing on to whatever he could find to lift and drag himself closer to Will.
Will raised his leg and smashed his boot into Caversham’s already damaged and bleeding face. The man’s nose shattered beneath Will’s heel. With one hand clutching the gunwale, Caversham flopped over, howling in pain.
With a quick glance at Jake—who was sitting in what looked like a chair that was being kept from sliding down the deck by the door frame of the captain’s quarters—Will unholstered his other pistol. Aiming it at Caversham, he carefully shimmied down the rope, which was now dangling from the cleat. When he reached Caversham, he pointed the weapon at the man’s chest. Caversham’s eyes shone blue behind the mask of blood covering his face. Blood dripped from a gash near his eye and gushed from his flattened nose.
“Surrender, damn you,” Will hissed at him. “For God’s sake, I don’t want to shoot you in front of the boy.”
Desperate eyes moved from the pistol pointing at his chest to Will’s face. Caversham spat a mouthful of blood onto the slanted deck.
“Never… surrender…” he gasped, his voice a sickly nasal whine, nothing like the cocky, sneering confidence he’d approached Will with.
Clenching his teeth, Will cocked the pistol.
Caversham closed his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Will thought he was waiting for the inevitable shot. But then he opened his eyes. His expression had softened from the coldly murderous glare to a gaze of defeat, his pupils dilated and his brows drawn together, causing deep crevices to appear between them.
In a voice so quiet, no one but Will could have heard, he said, “Don’t want… to… go to gallows. Let me go. Down with my ship, as a captain should.”
Another thunderous crack. The ship listed even more. If things kept going this way, the stern would soon be perpendicular to the ocean. Then it would be nearly impossible to keep from sliding off.
Uncocking his pistol, Will pulled it back and stuffed it back into his holster. “Go, then, Captain,” he said coldly.
After another moment, Caversham closed his eyes again. His hand relaxed its grip from the gunwale, and he slid down the deck until he disappeared over the jagged edge of jutting, torn wood.
Will had no doubt that this was the last he’d see of Jacob Caversham. He knew the look of a man defeated. Of a man ready to die.
Hand over hand, Will climbed up the rope toward the dangling door to the captain’s quarters.
“Captain Will! Captain Will!”
Will reached the cleat and grabbed the gunwale to hoist himself up the rest of the way. When he reached the cabin door, he held his hand out. “Jake, come to me, lad.”
“I cannot!” Jake said, his voice small and thin. “My papa tied me here.”
What? Why? Pressing his lips together, Will swung on the rope and grabbed the door frame, lifting himself into the cabin. Though most of the furniture was nailed to the floor to prevent it from tumbling about in high seas, all the loose items had slid to the front wall of the captain’s quarters. Jake was half hidden in a heap of blankets, broken dishes, charts, books, and various other items.
“Good God.” The child was indeed tied to the chair, his hips and arms lashed to it. A wad of wet material was wrapped around his neck—a gag he’d managed to spit out, Will thought. What kind of a father tied his child to a chair and gagged him?
Will threw aside broken plates, pillows, and papers, and he scrambled to untie the knots. Jake watched him critically. “You’re bleeding, Captain Will.”
“I know. But I’m all right. It’s just a bit of a cut.” It was true. He’d be bruised tomorrow, and he’d probably have a black eye, but right now, those were the least of his worries.
“Can you swim, lad?”
“Yes, I can. Meg taught me!”
Of course she had.
“Good.” Finished untying Jake’s hips, he got to work on his hands. “Then you and I are going to swim to my ship, the Endeavor. All right?”
Jake frowned at him. “You and me? Together?”
“Yes, son,” Will said. “Me and you together.”
Jake gave him a solemn nod. “All right.”
The ship lurched again, and what had once been the cabin floor was now a solid wall in front of them. Something dislodged and crashed against Will’s head, but he hardly registered the sting of pain. He was focused on the singular goal of escape. Of returning Jake to Meg. He’d made her a promise, and he had no intention of breaking it.
He gathered Jake into his arms. “Hang on to me,” he said. “Wrap your arms and legs around me.”
“Like a monkey?”
“Like a monkey.”
Distractedly, Will realized that Jake had spoken more to him in the past few minutes than he had in the entire sum of their time together. He looked down into the little boy’s blue eyes, and Jake looked trustingly back up at him.
Love surged through him for this innocent child. No wonder Meg had been so determined to keep him safe. Somehow, Will had acquired
that same instinct.
He peered outside the door. This wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t a clean drop to the ocean below. There was the wheel, the mast, and treacherous-looking shards of ship breaking apart in the boiling waves below. If he and Jake jumped, they’d probably be hit by something and drown.
He drew back in, looking up at the three windows that had once provided light from the far wall of the captain’s quarters. One of the windows had cracked under the strain of the ship breaking apart.
Below them, the ship shuddered and creaked, and the floor seemed to drop from beneath them. They were sinking—fast.
Will lowered Jake, grabbed a sheet and whipped it up, shaking it free of loose debris. He tossed it to Jake. “Cover yourself.”
Without question, Jake did. Balancing atop the chair Jake had been tied to, Will grabbed a second chair that had tumbled down nearby. He thrust a leg of the chair at the window, causing a web of cracks to spread out from that first crack. On Will’s second thrust, the window shattered. He ducked his head under the chair seat as glass showered down onto him. Then he used the chair leg to poke out the rest of the glass from the window frame, and he carefully lifted the glass-covered blanket off of Jake.
“Come here, son.”
Jake reached for him, and he took the child into his arms and hoisted him up. “You crawl onto the stern and wait for me, understand? Don’t go onto the glass—your weight might break it.”
“Yes, Captain Will,” Jake said, his eyes wide. The boy grabbed the ledge, and Will winced, hoping the glass was gone and he wouldn’t cut his hands. But he scrambled up without complaint and disappeared onto the stern of the ship.
The gurgling sound of water, swallowing up the ship like an enormous sucking mouth, filled the captain’s quarters.
Will couldn’t reach the ledge. It was about a foot over his fingertips. He looked around, searching for something else to stand on. A ladder would be useful about now. Of course, there wasn’t one to be found in the disaster that had once been the captain’s quarters.
Frustrated, he glanced up to see Jake peering down at him over the ledge.
“You cannot reach,” the boy said. It wasn’t a question.
“No. But I’ll find a way.”
He glanced through the door frame to see the roiling sea quickly devouring its way up the deck.
“There’s a cleat here,” Jake said musingly. “Why’s there a cleat?” He looked thoroughly confused, as though cleats should only be located on certain parts of ships. Likely as not, he’d never seen a cleat on the stern.
The sea breached the captain’s door and swirled around the feet of the chair.
“Cleats are very useful things, Jake. A cleat on the stern might be used to tow a jolly boat, for example. But right now, we’re going to use it to help me climb out of here.”
Will glanced around for a rope for Jake to tie to the cleat. There wasn’t one of those in here, either, though there was the one tied to the cleat outside he’d climbed on earlier. Probably now immersed in cold seawater. Then he saw the sheet he’d used to cover Jake with.
“Can you tie a figure eight, Jake?” he called up.
Jake looked almost comically affronted. “Yes.”
The boy had, after all, lived the vast majority of his life on a ship, Will supposed. He grabbed the sheet and twisted it until it resembled a very thick rope. “Take the end here and tie it in a figure eight around the cleat.”
He tossed it up to Jake. It took four tries, but the little boy finally caught it. He scrambled away, taking the sheet with him. God, Will thought, please let it be long enough.
Water was swirling around his ankles, quickly deepening until the cold shock of it covered his knees and then rose to his thighs.
Jake returned and tossed down the end of the sheet, and Will didn’t waste any time. He scrambled up the sheet, feeling it tear as he did so. He moved faster than he ever had in his life, climbing the sheet hand over hand and then crawling to the top of the stern in just a few seconds.
He tore off his heavy wool coat, which would be no help in helping him stay afloat. Once again, he took Jake into his arms.
“Like a monkey,” he reminded Jake, yelling to be heard over the sounds of cracking wood and rushing water. He scrambled to the edge of the ship—the starboard side, where the Endeavor had crashed. He chose an area of ocean that looked relatively calm and free of debris, and as the sea rose up to swallow Caversham’s ship, he leaped off the side.
The water sucked him and Jake under. Goddamn, it was just as cold as the last time he’d dived in. How had Meg survived for so long in this? Keeping the squirming Jake tightly wrapped in one arm, he kicked to the surface.
They broke through, both of them gasping. Jake seemed to be doing well enough on his own, so Will let him go. They swam beside each other, wiping the water from their eyes and trying to find their bearings.
There was no sign of Caversham’s ship. Men were swimming in the ocean around them, cursing, coughing, some of them grabbing on to bits of wood and other debris. Caversham’s men. His own men knew what to do with them—they’d be locked in the hold and given to the law enforcement officials on land to sort through them when they arrived.
The Endeavor lay broadside to them, its ruined paddlewheel listing sadly to the side. Otherwise, though, everything looked shipshape. Men were running about on deck, and things were moving swiftly and surely. Excellent, Will thought, especially given that this crew was brand new and had never worked together before they’d left Liverpool.
“It’s the captain!” he heard someone cry. He waved his arms overhead to identify himself, and moments later, the Endeavor’s jolly boat arrived, and men helped Jake and Will into it.
Will sat on one of the jolly boat’s seats, trying to keep his teeth from chattering and holding an equally chilled Jake in his lap. The blankets wrapped around them weren’t doing much good—they needed out of these cold clothes.
They reached the side of the Endeavor, a ladder was dropped, and Will helped Jake up before climbing up himself. As they headed toward his cabin to change, Halliday fell into step beside him.
“We’re apprehending all the pirate’s men, captain,” he said. “Plucking them from the ocean and throwing them into the hold.”
“Good,” Will said shortly.
“We found the captain, sir. One of his men identified him.”
“Alive?”
“Ah, no, sir.” He flicked a glance toward Jake.
Will drew to a halt, looking down at Jake, who stopped, too, to stare over the starboard side of the Endeavor at the rolling sea where Caversham’s ship had once floated.
Finally, he said in a small voice, “My papa drowned.”
“Yes, son,” Will said, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Jake exhaled slowly, and then he looked up at Will. “Will you be my papa now?”
Will swallowed hard and drew the boy close against him. They were both shivering wet and cold, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“Yes, Jake. I’ll be your papa now, if that’s what you want.”
Jake nodded, his expression solemn.
They watched silently as the Endeavor’s jolly boat collected the last of the straggling sailors from the sunken vessel.
With a sigh, Will took Jake’s hand. “Come, son. Let’s go dry off.”
They turned away and continued walking toward the stern, Halliday following behind them.
“Steam won’t be any good until the paddlewheel’s fixed, sir,” Halliday said. “And it can’t be done at sea—too much damage.”
“Very well, we’ll proceed from here under sail. I’ll have the paddlewheel fixed after we arrive at port.”
“Will we be returning to Liverpool, sir?”
“Not yet,” Will answered as they reached his cabin door. “First, we’re sailing to Penzance.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Meg?”
From her position at the chart tabl
e, Meg lifted her head and turned toward the voice coming from the doorway, blinking through her streaming, stinging eyes. “Will?”
She lurched up and out of the chair. And then she was wrapped in his arms, not caring that he was wet and cold, just happy that he was here, that he was alive, that he was all right.
She pulled back a little, looking up at him through blurry eyes.
“Jake?” Her voice was a rough squeak.
“Meg?”
She glanced down. Will was holding his hand—had been holding his hand the entire time. She dropped to her knees and gathered the dripping wet child into her arms. She looked up at Will. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
She pulled back from Jake. “We have to get you out of these wet clothes,” she said briskly, blinking back tears. “Both of you.”
An hour later, Jake and Will were wrapped comfortably in blankets and sipping tea in Will’s quarters while Thomas asked about their adventure, rattling off questions at the rate of a mile a minute. Drawing warmth from the teacup cradled in her hands, Meg watched the three of them—two little boys she’d grown to love, and Will, the only man she’d ever loved.
How could she have forgotten that? Forgotten him? She supposed she hadn’t, not really. She’d just refused to be truthful with herself, and she’d used the excuse that they’d changed too much in the past eight years. They had changed, but change didn’t make love disappear. How silly of her to think that it did.
“Boys,” she said softly, seeing how Thomas was resting his face in his hands, his elbows on the table, and how Jake’s eyes were growing droopy, a sure sign that he was exhausted. “I think it’s time for bed for us all. Everyone is tired. It has been a long day.”
Jake gave her a hopeful look. “Can I sleep with Thomas?” He waited in anticipation, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
She glanced at Will.
“They could have the second-mate’s quarters,” he murmured, “since no one is occupying that cabin at the moment. It is right next door.”
Pleasures of a Tempted Lady Page 29