Surrender the Heart

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Put Mr. Lothar and Mr. Boone on the pumps at once. Have Matthew attend to the injured.” Noah glanced at the sky, dark enough to see stars flickering back at him, and then at the sloop. Only the foam lining her gray hull gave away her position.

  Which meant she could barely see the Fortune as well.

  Luke brayed orders across the deck then returned to Noah’s side.

  “Relentless,” Noah spat as he watched the sloop tack to starboard, no doubt in an effort to offer him another broadside. “She’s like a mad demon.”

  Luke gripped the railing, his eyes narrowed on their enemy. A slow smile spread over his lips. “Even a demon can’t see in the dark.”

  Noah nodded at his first mate. “Douse all lights. Every light.” He directed Luke, then he turned toward Mr. Pike—ever faithful at the helm. “Three points to larboard, Mr. Pike.” He faced Luke again. “Have the men lower topsails. Let’s alter our position and see if we can’t lose them in this darkness.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Luke’s approval beamed in his gaze as he turned and left.

  Noah stared out upon the choppy waves of the ebony sea. He patted the stained handkerchief in his pocket. “I may be joining you soon, my brother.”

  With all lanterns snuffed, darkness hungrily consumed the ship, swallowing both sight and sound in every crack, plank, and timber. Only the wash of the sea against the hull and the occasional snap of sail as they tacked to starboard marked their position.

  A yellow jet of flame burst in the darkness off their starboard beam, followed by an ominous boom. Noah’s spine tightened. Could they see him? Was the Fortune outside their range? Seconds ticked by as long as minutes. Visions of his own splintered, crushed body flashed across his mind. But then a splash sounded off their starboard quarter, and he released a ragged sigh.

  Matthew joined him. The metallic smell of blood filled the air. “Praise be to God, they can’t see us.”

  “What of the injured?” Noah prepared himself for the answer.

  “Mason and Crenshaw? They’ll live.” Matthew’s normally cheery voice sounded as thick as molasses.

  Blackthorn slipped beside Noah. “I’ll bet on me mother’s grave, those Brits’ll be there in the morning. Sink me, I’ve served long enough wit’ the likes o’ them to know they never give up. They’ll follow any spark of light, any sound, and be right on us at first light.”

  Noah frowned. The tiny thread of hope he’d been clinging to slipped through his fingers at Blackthorn’s morbid declaration.

  “He’s right.” Luke sighed.

  “At the rate we’re taking on water, it won’t matter,” Noah said. “We’ll sink before dawn.”

  Despite her trembling legs, Marianne squared her shoulders and gave Lieutenant Garrick her most defiant look. It did not, however, wipe the odious grin off his face or make him disappear. Instead, it emboldened him to take a step toward her and finger a strand of her hair. She batted his hand away and tried to skirt around him.

  He blocked her exit. “What have we here? Come looking for me, perhaps?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Mr. Garrick.” Marianne tried to shove past him, but he remained as immovable as a brick wall. She pursed her lips and dared a glance into his icy blue eyes. “If you don’t mind, I shall be on my way.”

  “But I do mind, Miss Denton.” He scratched the well-groomed whiskers on his jaw. “Your absence above deck these past weeks has left me pining for a moment alone with you. Then what do I hear in the middle of the night, but you fumbling about the wardroom? Fortunate, indeed.”

  “Fortune has nothing to do with this.” Marianne stepped backward. Her foot thumped against a barrel. A dull ache formed at her ankle.

  Mr. Garrick’s gaze leeched over her, sucking in every detail. “Whatever are you doing down here, Miss Denton? I perceive you are up to no good.”

  “I … I …” Marianne’s knees began to quake. “I was searching for the surgeon. I do not feel well.” Which was no lie as nausea began to brew in her stomach.

  “Hmm. I am sorry to hear it.” But his nasally voice indicated more disbelief than concern. “But you are nowhere near sick bay.”

  “I got lost.”

  He studied her. The lantern light accentuated the malevolence in his eyes. “Have you given much thought to my offer, Miss Denton?”

  Marianne raised her nose. “Not a second’s worth, Mr. Garrick.”

  “Hmm. Most unfortunate.” He grinned and leaned toward her. “Most unfortunate for you, that is.”

  His hot breath, tainted with rum, wrinkled her nose. Marianne slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and searched for her knife. The thought of stabbing a man horrified her.

  Mr. Garrick loosened the cravat around his neck. “Quite unsafe for a woman to wander around the ship at night.”

  “Pray don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Garrick.” She laid a hand on his arm to push him back. “I shall remedy the situation immediately.”

  Lieutenant Garrick clutched her shoulders.

  Jerking from his grasp, Marianne stepped backward. The hard wood of the bulkhead blocked her retreat. “I implore you, sir, to behave with the propriety of an officer and a gentleman in the Royal Navy.”

  He chuckled. “A gentleman’s chivalry extends only to ladies, not rebel wenches.”

  Indignation stiffened her jaw. “I am no wench, sir. I am a respectable lady.”

  “Upon my word, Miss Denton, what do you expect me to believe when I find you skulking around a place only meant for officers? No doubt you hoped to awaken me so I would follow you here. Ah, such sweet encouragement.”

  “I have given you no such encouragement, sir!” Marianne’s throat closed. Her sweaty hands slid over the knife handle. She was beginning to think she could indeed stab a man—especially this particular man.

  He extended his hand. “Give me the knife, Miss Denton.”

  So he had seen her. “I’ll give you the knife.” Marianne’s tone held the sarcasm she intended. Right through your black heart.

  In one swift movement, she tried to draw the knife from her skirts. The handle became entangled in the fabric. Her breath halted in her throat as she struggled to extricate the blade. Finally, she freed it. It slipped from her sweaty grip and clanked to the deck.

  “Pathetic display, my dear.” Garrick snickered as he kicked the blade out of her reach.

  Any hope Marianne had fostered that she would escape this monster smothered beneath a wave of dread. Lord, please help me.

  Garrick took the lantern from her grip and placed it atop a barrel.

  “I’ll scream.” Her voice quavered.

  “No, you won’t.” He slammed his hand over her mouth.

  CHAPTER 26

  Ease her down slowly, Matthew,” Noah whispered, not daring to use his normal voice lest the sound alert their enemies. He glanced up into the night sky lightly dusted with stars then over the ebony sea.

  Matthew directed the two men holding the tackle ropes on either side of the cockboat. They released the lines inch by inch, and the boat slowly lowered over the side of the ship. As soon as they heard the craft strike water, Luke tossed a rope ladder over the edge. Blackthorn, unlit lantern in hand and rope tied about his thick waist, straddled the bulwarks and nodded toward Noah.

  “Are you sure?” Noah asked him once more, barely making out his bulky form in the darkness.

  “Aye. You got me off that British frigate. I owe you. ‘Sides, I’m the strongest swimmer.” He looked over the edge and shrugged. “I’ll see you soon.” His affectionate gaze took in Daniel before he dropped over the side and eased himself down into the rocking vessel.

  “Be careful,” Agnes called after him, drawing Daniel close to her.

  “Pa can do this. He used to be a pirate,” the boy whispered with glee.

  Boom! A shot thundered in the distance, cracking through the nighttime silence and drawing each man’s attention over their larboard quarter. The remnants of a flame drifted away in a tawny haze
. The splash came, crisp and foreboding, just yards off their hull. Like all the other shots the sloop had fired that night.

  Noah cringed. One more hit to their hull and they’d sink for sure. His crew had done their best to plug the hole with sailcloth, yet some seawater still seeped in through the canvas barrier.

  Mr. Weller tugged at the scarf around his neck. “They ain’t givin’ up.”

  “So it would seem.” Noah ran a hand over the back of his neck, moist with sweat, though the air was cool. Indeed, it appeared the sloop intended to keep firing their guns all night until they struck their target.

  And Noah intended to grant them their wish.

  “Mr. Heaton,” he said. “Inform Mr. Pike to bring her hard to starboard on my signal. He glanced aloft but could not make out the men he’d stationed in the yards ready to adjust sail. Good. The moon had not yet made an appearance. He hoped it would sleep a little longer.

  “Yes, Captain.” Luke leapt up to the quarterdeck.

  His men removed the tackles and handed Noah the other end of the rope attached to Blackthorn. He tied it to the bulwarks, then glanced over the railing. Too dark to see the boat below although he heard it slap against the hull.

  “God be with you, Blackthorn,” Noah whispered. He didn’t know if the man heard him or not, but the rope grew taut in his hand, and he slowly released it bit by bit over the side.

  Matthew took his place beside Agnes and Daniel. Weller leaned on the railing and peered into the darkness. Several minutes passed. The rope tightened with a twang and tugged at the knot tied around the bulwarks.

  Blackthorn could go no farther. Silence settled on the ship as every crewman gaped into the black bowl surrounding them. A pinprick of light formed in the darkness. It blossomed into a small circle. A circle that wobbled with each passing wave.

  Hurry, Blackthorn. The rope slackened then tightened again. A distant splash sounded.

  Daniel shot Noah an excited glance. Clutching the rope attached to Blackthorn, Noah began pulling it over the railing, handing portions to Matthew and Weller beside him. Together the men groaned in silence as they heaved on the line.

  Minutes passed. Noah listened for the sound of splashing.

  A flash of yellow off their stern. Boom!

  Resisting the urge to hit the deck, Noah hauled the rope. The muscles in his arms screamed. A splash echoed off the waves, not the one he hoped to hear, but one that, from its distance, told him the sloop had taken the bait.

  Yet the light remained.

  “Ahoy aloft!” Blackthorn’s muffled voice rose from the sea. “Papa!”

  Daniel peered over the side.

  The rope slackened and Blackthorn stumbled over the rail, his chest heaving and his body dripping like a fish.

  Noah clapped him on the back.

  Daniel embraced him. “I knew you could do it.”

  Another gun blast thundered. Noah signaled the helm. The ship swerved to starboard, sails snapping in the wind. Noah and his men steadied themselves on the deck as Matthew supported his wife. A spray of white foam spit from their larboard point as the Fortune tacked away from the decoy they had planted.

  The air went aquiver with the roar of guns. Leaping on the gunwale, Noah grabbed a backstay and stared behind them. The bobbing lantern exploded. Shards of wood and glass shot through the air. Then all went black.

  Whispered huzzahs sprang from his crew.

  Gesturing for them to be silent, Noah sprang into the ratlines and scrambled above to order his top men to furl sail. The slower the ship sailed, the less noise they would make. A gust of wind tugged at his hair and shirt and flapped his breeches. He’d made it to the lower yard before he noted an absence of fear—at least a fear of falling.

  His top crew gathered around him to hear his orders, then went about their tasks. Sliding down the backstay, Noah landed with a thud then stared into the darkness behind him.

  Hope caused his breath to quicken. Had they lost their pernicious pursuer in the darkness?

  Boom! A yellow jet spiked upward, smoke curling in its wake.

  Seconds crept by as Noah and his crew held their breath and waited for the ominous splash, the location of which would tell them if their ploy had worked.

  Instead of a distant splash, the eerie whine of speeding shot followed by the snap and crack of wood filled the air around Noah.

  Marianne struggled against Lieutenant Garrick’s grip. Pinned between the bulkhead and his fleshy body, she gulped for air beneath his sweaty hand.

  Her attempts at screaming withered into moans.

  Terror turned her blood to ice. She kicked him, clawed at him, but to no avail.

  Please, Lord. But even as she said the prayer she knew it would take a miracle to save her. Noah was gone. There was no one on this ship to save her now.

  His hands groped over her. He gave a heated groan. Nausea curdled her belly. He fumbled with the hooks on her gown.

  “Unhand her at once, Mr. Garrick.” The strength of the commanding voice left no room for argument.

  Withdrawing from her lips, Garrick froze, his eyes simmering. A spark of fear skittered across them.

  “I said unhand her.”

  Garrick took a step back. Marianne’s head grew light, and she leaned against the bulkhead to keep from tumbling to the deck.

  Garrick slowly turned to face Lieutenant Reed who stood as prim and proper as ever, a look of abject revulsion on his face.

  “This is none of your affair, Reed.” Garrick sneered. “Go back to your bed and leave us be.”

  “The captain ordered you to stay away from Miss Denton, I believe, which makes it every bit my business.”

  Marianne’s breath returned to normal as she studied the two men. They stood sizing each other up like lions battling over prey.

  Garrick snorted. “And of course you will run and tell the captain like the bootlicking lackey you are.”

  Mr. Reed lifted a haughty brow. “Since you are assured of my actions, you must know the outcome does not bode favorable for you.”

  “That is where you are wrong, sir.” Garrick gave a pompous snort. “The captain and I have an arrangement.”

  “Yes, I know of your arrangement. And it stretches only as far as the captain’s patience. Which as we both know is as fickle as an ocean squall.”

  A spark of fear crossed Garrick’s eyes, but he stood his ground.

  “And you do know the punishment for ravishing a woman is death, do you not?” Mr. Reed raised his brows.

  “Not for me, it won’t be.” Garrick snorted. “Besides, she’s the enemy. No one would fault me for putting her in her place.”

  “Enemy or not, you know the captain favors her.” Mr. Reed shrugged. “I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

  Garrick wiped the spit from his lips and fingered the service sword hanging at his side. “What’s to stop me from killing you and throwing your carcass to the sharks?”

  “Perhaps the fact that I won the Royal Naval College swordsmanship competition the year I graduated.” An arrogant smile danced over Mr. Reed’s lips as his hand crept down to the hilt of his sword.

  Lieutenant Garrick narrowed his eyes. His breathing grew rapid. “Madness.” Casting Marianne a look of disgust, he shoved past Mr. Reed. At the foot of the ladder, he faced them. “You will regret this. Both of you.”

  “I never regret, Mr. Garrick. Good evening to you.” Mr. Reed’s calm voice soothed over Marianne. Grumbling under his breath, Garrick leapt up the ladder and disappeared.

  “How can I thank you, Mr. Reed?” She released a heavy sigh and took a step toward him.

  “What, pray tell, are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” Anger shot from his hazel eyes. “I cannot help you if you put yourself in such compromising positions. Now, come along and I’ll escort you to your cabin.”

  Marianne dropped her gaze to the knife lying on the deck by the barrel. She must retrieve it without Mr. Reed’s notice. She must have that knife or
all would be lost. If she didn’t pick it up now, someone would, no doubt, find it tomorrow. She kicked off one of her shoes.

  “Forgive me, I behaved foolishly.” She laid a hand over her heart and leaned on the barrel, feigning a loss of breath. She must delay him. “How did you know we were here?”

  The harsh look on Mr. Reed’s face faded. “I heard Garrick rise from his bed and leave. Something told me to follow him.” His brow wrinkled. “I am sorry for your distress.”