Surrender the Heart

by Marylu Tyndall

  Marianne gazed up at him. “You are an honorable man for an Englishman.”

  “We are not all like Mr. Garrick.” He chuckled then proffered an elbow. “Shall we?”

  Marianne pressed a hand to her back and started to rise, then she glanced at her feet. “Oh, my shoe. Please forgive me, Mr. Reed.” She knelt. Fluttering her skirts around her as cover, she grabbed a shoe in one hand and the knife in the other. Slowly, she rose to her feet, tucking the blade within the folds of her skirt while she eased her foot into her shoe. The knife once again became entangled in the fabric. She could feel the tip tugging at the folds. She only prayed it wouldn’t tear her gown. Her heart took up a rapid beat as she smiled at Mr. Reed and placed her other hand on his arm.

  The curious look on his face made her blood run cold. “Egad, Miss Denton, what is that in your hand?”

  Noah gripped the ledge until his knuckles grew red and gazed out the stern windows of his cabin. A streak of orange flame lit the horizon. He froze in the dark, awaiting the explosion. The menacing splash grated over his tight nerves. Close. Too close. This British captain was savvy. Not a single lantern or candle was lit on the Fortune, and still he seemed to know where they were. The last strike had taken a chunk out of their capstan. Noah feared much worse the next time they came within range.

  The savage dash of water against the hull told him the Fortune sailed only as swiftly through the dark seas as the rent in her hull allowed. Not an altogether safe thing to do when they couldn’t see two feet off their bow, but Noah had deemed the fate that followed them to be far worse than the risk of striking a reef or another ship.

  Confound it all! Noah fisted his hands across his chest and squinted into the darkness. Nothing but black as dark as coal met his gaze. Only the few stars twinkling overhead separated sky from sea. Like Noah, the British commander had extinguished all lights on board his ship. Only the occasional flashes from the sloop’s guns gave away their position. A position that seemed to be forever in Noah’s wake.

  If he could not evade this monster by daybreak, all would be lost.

  The anxious gazes and fainthearted groans of his crew had forced Noah below where he could steal a moment alone and try to formulate a plan of escape. But after an hour, none had come to mind. None but pleading with God for their salvation. And that plan offered no more hope than any other.

  I have led these men to their deaths. Noah swallowed down the burning in his throat. Just as he had caused his brother’s death. Was this to be his legacy? Not only a failure, but also a murderer?

  His thoughts swarmed around Marianne, another of his victims. With Noah killed or captured, she was as good as dead. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.” His last words to her chanted a woeful melody in his mind. Another promise he could not keep. And for Marianne, another person she could not trust.

  Noah’s heart felt as heavy as a thirty-two pounder and just as deadly. Because of him, everyone he cared about was in harm’s way. Everyone he cared about would soon be dead. He was nothing but a disappointment, just as his father had always declared.

  The man’s rage-filled face bloated in Noah’s mind. “You’ll never live up to your brother. Never,” he spat in disgust then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  And Noah hadn’t. Not only had he not lived up to Jacob’s legacy, but with this last venture, Noah had far exceeded his own record of shortcomings.

  Boom! The thunder of another cannon pounded the air. Noah gazed at the smoke spiraling upward in the distance, no longer bracing himself for the blast. What would it matter? Perhaps it would be better to get it over with.

  The splash crackled the air as if laughing at him. Much closer this time.

  “I could never please you, Father.” Noah leaned back on the edge of his desk and hung his head.

  “You please Me.”

  Noah’s heart picked up a beat. He glanced over the dark cabin. The terror of his impending death had no doubt befuddled his mind. Withdrawing the stained handkerchief from his pocket, Noah placed it over his heart. “If I make it to heaven, brother, I hope you won’t be angry at me.”

  If I make it to heaven. But why would God let him through those holy gates? He’d been nothing but incompetent his entire life. Even in his death, Noah would fail. God would no doubt raise His voice in indignation, spout a litany of Noah’s failures and cast him from His sight.

  “I am not like your father.”

  That voice again, soft, confident, coming from within him. Emotion clogged Noah’s throat. He had called both God and his earthly father cruel taskmasters. Was it possible, as both Matthew and Luke had said, that Noah confused the two?

  The blast of a cannon roared.

  “I love you. I am proud of you.”

  Proud of me? Noah rose and took up a pace before the windows. Nothing but his warped imagination turned the creak and groan of the ship into words he longed to hear.

  Splash. Closer still.

  Yet the promise imbedded within that gentle voice was too much to ignore.

  “If that’s You, God, where have You been?”

  “I have never left.”

  The gentle words floated around Noah, penetrating his heart with their truth. He was the one who had left God. But who could blame him? After God allowed Jacob to fall to his death? After He allowed Noah to carry the guilt for all those years?

  “Why, God, why?”

  “You do not know the end yet.” Daniel’s ponderous words echoed through the darkness. Noah pivoted and headed back the other direction. But what happy ending could such a tragedy produce?

  “Trust Me.”

  A cannon thundered. Noah halted his pacing and stared out the window. Yellow smoke dissipated into the darkness just like his faith had done so many years ago. “Trust You with an ending when the beginning has been so horrid?” Noah shook his head and balled the handkerchief in his hand.

  No answer came save the moan of the ship and the rush of water. He wanted to trust God. He wanted to believe there was some purpose to this madness. Some reason for the tragedies. Someone who truly loved him.

  But would a God who loved him do the things He …

  “Trust Me.”

  His brother’s smiling face formed out of the darkness. He winked at Noah and flashed a challenge from his blue eyes so full of life and adventure. Guilt pressed heavy on Noah, forcing him to his knees.

  “Give Me your guilt, son. I will take it from you.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know how.” A sense welled up in his belly. A strong sense that Jacob’s death happened for a reason, that there was nothing Noah could have done to prevent it. Nothing would have changed an outcome predestined from before time.

  “But why make me a part of it?”

  “Give Me the guilt.”

  “Please tell Jacob I’m sorry.”

  “He knows.”

  A cannon thundered as if affirming the statement. Noah squeezed the handkerchief to his chest. “God, can you ever forgive me? For turning away from you? For my anger toward you?”

  “I already have.”

  Wiping the moisture from his eyes, Noah shifted his shoulders. He felt as if a massive weight had been torn from his back. He drew in a deep breath and his lungs, his very spirit, filled with such a strong sense of love it threatened to knock him over.

  He rose, feeling light as a topsail fluttering in the wind. “I’ve been such a fool, Lord. My anger kept me separated from You—from this.” A love so consuming, so pure, it filled every crack and crevice in his heart. He bowed his head. “My God and my King.”

  Boom!

  He lifted his gaze to the flash in the distance. His predicament had not changed. “Lord, if You could, please save us so we can go save Marianne. But if not, if that is not Your will, please save her and bring her home.”

  Boom!

  Wood snapped. Glass flew through the air in an ear-piercing shatter. The last thing Noah remembered was his face hitting the deck. />
  CHAPTER 27

  Marianne bit her lip. Her legs wobbled. “To what are you referring, sir?”

  Mr. Reed gave her a caustic look. “I am referring to the long knife you are hiding in your skirts, miss.”

  “Oh, that.” Her heart sank. Freeing the blade from the folds of her gown, Marianne lifted it, point forward.

  Without warning, the lieutenant grabbed her wrist, plucked the knife from her grasp, and released her hand.

  Marianne rubbed the mark he left on her skin.

  Mr. Reed studied her. “Where did you get this?”

  She glanced at the knife Mr. Reed so casually held in his hand. She must get it back. Without it, she would be helpless to assist her country. But surely this officer would never allow someone who was, for all practicality, a prisoner on board this ship, to have a weapon. Unless …

  “Mr. Reed, I beg you. Allow me to keep it. I only intended to borrow it for a time. To ward off Lieutenant Garrick. Surely you won’t deny an innocent woman the protection she needs against such a lecherous villain.” She drew her lips into a pleading pout that she feared made her look ridiculous.

  But Mr. Reed did not laugh. Instead, he fingered his chin, his gaze flickering from the knife in his grip to her eyes and back again.

  His hesitation gave her hope. “Even if I promise to avoid Mr. Garrick, you know as well as I there is no guarantee of my safety,” she added.

  “If you aspire to avoid Mr. Garrick, miss, might I suggest you avoid wandering about the bowels of the ship alone at night.” He spit out the last word with sarcasm.

  Marianne looked down so he couldn’t discern the lie in her eyes. “It couldn’t be helped. I was not well and needed the surgeon.”

  He released a sigh of frustration. “Could it not wait until morning? When you could have the captain summon him for you?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir.”

  “Very well, let me show you the way.”

  She saw his boots turn and his elbow came into her view. She lifted her gaze and offered him a sweet smile. “No need. It seems I have recovered.”

  “Just like that.”

  “I believe Mr. Garrick frightened my illness away.”

  “Perhaps we should employ him as surgeon instead of first lieutenant. Then he could go about scaring everyone into perfect health.” He cocked a brow.

  A giggle rose to Marianne’s lips, but she held it back. “May I have the knife, Mr. Reed?”

  “I could be court-martialed.”

  “No one need know.” Marianne saw the tight muscles in his face loosen. “Please, sir. It is bad enough I am a slave aboard this ship, but must I suffer ravishment as well?”

  His hazel eyes darkened. Releasing a sigh, he flipped the knife and handed it to her, handle first. Grabbing it before he changed his mind, Marianne slipped it into her pocket.

  He offered her his elbow. “What knife?” His lips curved in a rare smile that made him appear quite handsome.

  Taking his arm, Marianne allowed him to lead her back to her cabin. Every step heightened her fear that the lieutenant would come to his senses and take back the blade. Perspiration trickled down her back as they navigated the dark companionway. Finally at her cabin, she opened the door and spun around to thank him, but he had already disappeared into the shadows.

  Closing her door, Marianne took a deep breath to steady the thrash of her heart. Thank You, Lord. Plucking the knife from her pocket, she held it up to the moonlight, its blade a silver slice in the darkness. Perhaps You are on my side, after all. Perhaps You do have a task for me to accomplish. For tomorrow, if they came across the USS Constitution, Marianne would be ready.

  “Captain, Captain.” The word tugged on Noah’s consciousness, dragging him back to the living.

  “Captain.” Arms lifted him from behind. Gunpowder and smoke filled his lungs. He coughed and struggled to rise, struggled for a breath, struggled to open his eyes, yet deep down within him, afraid to struggle for anything.

  “Captain, we’re hit, and the sloop is fast on our wake.” The urgency in Luke’s voice slapped Noah like a wall of icy water.

  Batting Luke’s hands aside, Noah rose to his feet and opened his eyes to what was left of his cabin. Wind blasted in through the broken windows. The scent of the sea joined the smoke and the smell of charred wood. Half his desk was missing, leaving nothing but wooden spikes and burnt shavings. Shards of glass littered the deck, and all that remained of one of his chairs was a pile of splinters. A jagged hole pierced his canvas rug. Leaning over, he peered through it to the deck below. Nothing but darkness. At least the shot had not started a fire.

  Matthew flung a strip of cloth around his head and began tying it in place. Only then did Noah notice the blood trickling into his eyes.

  Wiping it away, he pushed the men aside and barreled for the door. “Status,” he barked to Luke.

  “Just the one hit to your cabin, Captain.” Luke’s voice trailed him. “And we are still taking on water.”

  “The pumps aren’t working?”

  “The water is leaking in too quickly.”

  Noah leapt on deck and then up on the quarterdeck. The nervous whispers of his crew joined the creaks and rush of water. Off their stern, their enemy lurked, cloaked in the invisible shroud of darkness.

  “Two points to starboard,” Noah whispered to Mr. Pike. “Slow and easy.”

  Sails snapped in the night breeze. The ship’s tilt to starboard was barely discernable.

  Noah took up a position at the stern railing, Luke by his side. Tension stalked the decks like a nefarious demon. But despite their dire predicament, Noah felt no fear. Renewed faith surged through him. He was no longer alone. Almighty God was with him, and He had all things in His hands. Noah bowed his head. My life is Yours, Lord. Let Thy will be done.

  A jet of bright yellow in the distance followed by a threatening boom seemed to seal their fate.

  Yet …

  The splash landed several yards off their larboard quarter.

  Minutes passed. Weller, Blackthorn, and Daniel joined Noah and Luke. All five men formed a staunch line of defense across the stern railing.

  Another thunderous blast cracked the silence.

  Yet no one spoke.

  Not even when the next roar came from even farther away.

  No huzzahs. No yells of triumph. Just the silence of men who had let go of hope and who didn’t want to cling to its fickleness so soon again.

  Noah continued praying silently.

  He was still praying an hour later when a thin strip of gray lined the horizon.

  With cautious hope, he scanned the sea surrounding the ship. Nothing. Yet still too dark to tell. Weller coughed.

  Daniel began humming a tune.

  Minutes passed. The gray strip transformed to saffron and began pushing back the darkness.

  Noah swallowed. He gazed over the calm sea, his heart in his throat. Nothing in sight but cobalt blue, furrowed with creamy ribbons. Slowly turning, he took in the entire panorama. Not a hint of sail or mast marred the golden horizon.

  “Masthead, what do you see?” Noah yelled to the lookout above.

  “I see nothing, Captain. Not a thing!”

  The sun peeked over the horizon. Wave crests glittered with golden light.

  Huzzahs rang through the ship, pushing the tension overboard to the depths.

  Thank You, Lord.

  Luke slapped Noah on the back and nodded his approval.

  Weller’s shoulders lowered, and he released the loudest sigh Noah had ever heard.

  “God protected us.” Daniel’s voice sounded like an angel’s. He gazed up at Noah with sparkling brown eyes.

  “Yes, He did.” Noah drew the boy to himself and gripped his shoulder.

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “God? Humph.”

  Blackthorn scratched his head. Morning sunlight turned his tan face to bronze and accentuated his two missing teeth. “Sink me. I’m startin’ t’ believe that a
s well.”

  “I told you, Pa, I told you.” Daniel smiled up at his father.

  Luke rolled his eyes and turned away. “Where should we point her, Captain?”

  “North by northwest. I still intend on overtaking the frigate.”

  “With a rent in our hold?” A breeze whipped Luke’s hair about his head.

  Noah furrowed his brow. “Very well, furl sail and send a crew down to patch the hole as best they can and pump out the remaining water. Then we must be on our way.”