Surrender the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Ignoring her, he cuffed a hand over the back of his neck. “Let fall sheet home, hoist away royals and flying jib!” he bellowed across the deck, sending more men to their tasks. Why didn’t the blasted woman go below? “They have not attacked me. Consequently, I have no fight with them.”

  The ship creaked and groaned as it picked up speed. Miss Denton’s face whitened. She clung to the railing as if it were her only salvation. When the ship settled again, she righted herself, keeping both hands on the rail. “So it is all about you, then, Mr. Brenin—I mean, Captain?

  You care not a whit for your country.”

  Luke gazed at them both, a look of pure enjoyment on his face.

  Leveling the scope on the British frigate, Noah welcomed the reprieve from staring into those brown eyes as sharp as spears.

  “We have the wind off our quarter, Captain,” Luke said. “They are losing ground.”

  Noah snapped the scope shut and angled a weary glance at Miss Denton. “My country, miss, has done naught but impede my merchant business with their blasted embargoes.” He studied the slight tilt of her nose. What would she know of sacrifice and hardship surrounded by luxury in her home? When she had never lifted a finger to work for any of her money.

  “You speak as a Federalist and a traitor, sir.” She pursed her lips and glanced at the British ship. “If they mean us no harm, then why do they chase us?”

  “I have no idea, nor do I intend to find out.” Noah’s blood boiled at her accusation. “And I am no traitor. I love my country as much as the next man.”

  The sharp censure in her eyes made him reconsider his words. Did he love his country? Truth be told, he’d been so busy making money, he’d never taken the time to ponder what America stood for nor how she differed from other nations.

  Miss Denton’s nose pinked, and she clenched her fists as if she intended to punch him. She shifted her gaze to Luke. “What is your opinion, Mr. Heaton? Do you love your country or are you more consumed with how she can help you make money?”

  “Nations come and go, Miss Denton.” Luke shrugged. “One must look out for oneself in this world.”

  The ship rose over a wave. The blue water surged onto the main deck before finding its escape through the scuppers back to sea. Miss Denton’s chest heaved. From anger or fear, Noah couldn’t tell. Still she managed to mumble. “I’m surrounded by Judases.”

  “That depends on your perspective.” Luke gave her a patronizing smile before he glanced off the stern. “They’ve given up, Captain.”

  “Very well. Strike the topsails, Mr. Heaton.” Noah doffed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He faced Miss Denton, attempting to curtail his anger, but then he realized his plan was to do the opposite—to prove himself to be a beast.

  “Since you know nothing of the merchant business,” he began. “Nor of sailing, nor of the British Navy, nor even of work itself, might I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself and keep your person off my quarterdeck.”

  Her expression fell, and her bottom lip protruded ever so slightly. Though they had the intended effect, Noah immediately regretted his words. But he could see no other way to save them both from this unwanted marriage.

  “You have not changed at all, Noah Brenin.” The flicker of pain in her brown eyes disappeared, leaving them as hard and cold as polished agates. Swerving around, she moved away from him, gripping the railing all the way to the ladder then with careful movements she descended to the main deck.

  “And I thought I was the scoundrel aboard this ship.” Luke shook his head, uncharacteristic censure filling his eyes.

  Noah’s shoulders slumped beneath a press of guilt. “Surely that will convince her of my unworthiness as a husband.”

  “It convinced me.”

  ♦♦♦

  “The man is a jingle-brained, bedeviled rogue,” Marianne grumbled as she made her way to the captain’s chamber. . .cabin, whatever it was called, later that evening for supper. Why, Lord, do You force me to marry such a man? Any other man would be better than this one.

  Pressing a hand over her stomach, she halted and leaned on the wall. The ship canted to the left, and she stumbled to the other side of the corridor. Swaying lanterns flung eerie shadows over the wooden planks that encased her like a coffin. Indeed, she felt as though she had died and gone to hell—a watery grave ruled by the evil King Noah, a man who was not only malicious but a traitor as well. How could she marry someone who did not share her love of country?

  She forced herself to continue. Though she would rather turn down Noah’s invitation to dine with him and his officers—knowing it only provided him further opportunity to play his cruel games. She also knew she could not gain any useful information about sabotaging the ship by sitting in her cabin. Which was why she intended to arrive several minutes before the scheduled time for supper. Perhaps she could discover something in the room to aid her cause, and if she got caught snooping around she had an excuse for being there.

  Gathering her breath, she peered around the open doorframe. In the midst of the cabin, an oblong table was set with pewter plates and mugs. Candles set in brass holders cast an icy glow over the silverware neatly placed beside each plate. A bowl of fruit and decanters of liquid stood at attention in the center of the table. Beyond it, through the stern windows, the setting sun trailed a red and orange ribbon across the horizon, even as tiny stars poked through the darkening sky above.

  She took a step inside and her eyes landed on Noah’s desk, pushed off to the side. She headed in that direction when an “Um hum” sounded from the corner. Her heart seized and she spun around to see Mr. Hobbs rising from a chair, a mug in hand.

  “Mr. Hobbs, I beg your pardon. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Quite alright, miss.” He dragged the hat from his head. “I didn’t mean t’ startle you.”

  Oh drat, how could she snoop around with him here? “I must have the time wrong. Am I early for dinner?”

  “Aye, just a bit.”

  “Where is No—the captain?” Marianne glanced out the door, uncomfortable at the thought of being alone with this man.

  “He went above for a bit, but he’ll be back soon.” He waved his hat at her and smiled as if sensing her ill ease. “Don’t let me cause you any discomfort, miss.”

  Marianne studied him. With arms and legs that seemed too muscular for his short body and his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, he appeared like an enormous bulldog. And just as ferocious until she looked in his gray eyes and found only kindness.

  “Your wife has been most gracious to me, Mr. Hobbs.”

  “Aye, she’s a good woman.”

  Marianne could not imagine the pairing. Where Agnes was jolly and friendly, Mr. Hobbs was serious and reserved. Where Agnes was rotund and soft, Mr. Hobbs appeared stiff and hard.

  An uncomfortable silence ensued, and Marianne turned to go. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”

  “Nay, miss, if you don’t mind. I’m glad we got this chance to talk.”

  Marianne cocked her head. “What do you wish to speak to me about, Mr. Hobbs?”

  “I overheard the captain speakin’ t’ you earlier. Up on deck.”

  She lowered her chin beneath a twinge as Noah’s callous words shot like arrows through her mind.

  “It is not like him, you see. I don’t want you thinkin’ ill of him. He’s like a son t’ me.”

  “Though I appreciate your concern I grow weary of everyone making excuses for his ill behavior.”

  Mr. Hobbs’s lips grew taut. “I don’t blame you for thinkin’ such.

  Just don’t give up on him yet.”

  “I have no intention of giving up on him, Mr. Hobbs.” Though not for the reasons he thought. Not because somewhere deep beneath Noah’s hard crust of cruelty, a speck of kindness survived, but instead because her mother’s life depended on it.

  Marianne glanced at the captain’s desk again. “I wonder, Mr. Hobbs if you would oblige me.”

 
“I’d be happy to, miss.”

  “Since I am to be imprisoned on this ship for months, I’ve taken an interest in sailing and navigation. Could you point out the captain’s instruments and their function to me?”

  “Of course.” Mr. Hobbs threw back his shoulders and met her at the captain’s desk. “What would ye like to know?”

  Marianne pointed in turn at each instrument and asked its function and name, which Mr. Hobbs was more than eager to explain.

  “So what would happen if the captain’s charts were to be lost?”

  “He’d have t’ use the stars to guide him, I suppose.”

  “What about this one.” Marianne picked up the odd-looking brass triangle with the curved bottom. “The sextant, was it? What exactly is it used for again?”

  “Where’s the rum?” Mr. Heaton’s deep timbre filled the room, and Marianne glanced toward the door, quickly setting the sextant back upon the desk. The first mate’s dark hair, tied behind him in a queue, matched the black breeches he’d donned. A white shirt, encased in a black waistcoat with gold embroidery completed his ensemble. “Forgive me, Miss Denton. I did not realize you had arrived already.” He gave her a roguish grin that he no doubt expected would send her heart fluttering. She squelched any such reaction. She knew his type. He was handsome and he knew it. And he used it to his advantage. Marianne had resigned herself long ago that she would never know how it felt to stir a man’s passions by the mere sight of her. And for the most part, she was happy for it.

  For the most part.

  Noah marched into the room like a captain in command, and her heart quirked a traitorous flutter in her chest. What is wrong with me? He tossed his bicorn onto a hook on the wall and eyed his guests. One brow lifted when his eyes landed on her. “Miss Denton, you came?”

  “I was invited, was I not?”

  “I didn’t expect the pleasure of your company.”

  “I did not wish to deny you of it.” She hid her annoyance beneath a sarcastic smirk.

  Mr. Heaton grabbed a decanter from the table and poured himself a glass of whatever vile liquor it held.

  Noah approached her, pointing at his desk. “What, pray tell, do you find so fascinating among my things?”

  “Miss Denton wanted to—” Hobbs began.

  “Mr. Hobbs was instructing me on the fine points of navigation, if you must know.” Marianne interrupted before the man gave her away.

  Noah folded his arms across his brown waistcoat. “I had no idea you had such interests.”

  “Nor the mind to grasp them?” He smiled.

  Luke dropped into a chair, a grin on his lips.

  Mr. Hobbs shifted his stance and gazed between them. “Truth be told, Miss Denton has a keen mind an’ a quick understandin’.”

  Marianne smiled at the elderly man. “Why, you are too kind, Mr. Hobbs.”

  “Hmm.” Noah scratched the stubble on his jaw.

  A sailor entered with a tray balanced on his shoulder. Another man followed him, and they both began placing platters of food on the table: biscuits, cheese, a steaming bowl of some sort of soup, and a block of salted meat.

  The spicy scent of stew wafted over Marianne. Her mouth watered and her stomach clenched at the same time. Whether it was seasickness or the constant terror of being upon the ocean, Marianne found her appetite had shriveled.

  She thanked Mr. Hobbs and moved away from the desk, deciding it would be best to make her exit now before she had to endure any more of Noah’s scorching wit.

  The ship tilted and one of the sailors stumbled. A glass decanter flew from his tray and crashed to the floor, bursting into a hundred crystalline shards.

  “My apologies, Cap’n.” The sailor growled as he knelt to pick up the mess.

  “No need, Mr. Rupert,” Noah said. “Just attend to the mess, if you please.”

  A red slice appeared on one of Rupert’s fingers, and Marianne withdrew her handkerchief from her sleeve and knelt beside him. Taking his hand in hers, she wrapped the bloody appendage. “Be careful, Mr. Rupert.” She smiled and his hazel eyes lifted to hers, shock skimming across them. “Let me help you.” She began picking up pieces of glass when a hand touched her arm.

  “No need, Miss Denton. He can manage.”

  She looked up to see Noah’s brow furrowed as tight as a wound rope.

  “Of course.” She rose and felt warmth flush through her. What was she thinking? A lady of fortune did not assist servants. Her gaze scanned Mr. Heaton, Mr. Hobbs, the other sailor, and Noah all staring her way.

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, my head suddenly aches. I believe I’ll forfeit my dinner tonight.”

  The curious look remained on Noah’s face. “Allow me to escort you to your cabin.”

  She waved a hand through the air. “I know the way. Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen.” And with that, she swept out the door.

  Making her way down the hallway, she chided herself for her mistake. Noah must never know how destitute she and her mother were. If he did, it would only fuel his desire to call off the engagement. And that must never happen. Not as long as Marianne had anything to say about it.

  She stepped inside her cabin and shoved the door closed then leaned against the hard wood. Her plan was set in place. Now all she had to do was wait for the captain to leave his cabin.

  Chapter 6

  A rap sounded on her cabin door, and Marianne stopped the pacing she’d taken up for the past several hours as she waited for the sounds of laughter to dissipate from the captain’s cabin—which they had done an hour ago. Still she could not get up the courage to do what she had to do. Not until she could be sure Noah was either gone from his cabin or fast asleep.

  She opened the door to Agnes carrying a tray laden with cheese, biscuits, a mug, and a basin of water along with her medical satchel.

  “Thank you, Agnes. You are too kind.” Marianne stepped aside, allowing the elderly woman to enter and set the tray upon the shelf. The sharp smell of cheese drifted on a salty breeze that followed the woman inside, sweeping away the stagnant air that filled the tiny cabin.

  “I heard you did not partake of the captain’s meal, miss.” Agnes’s breath came out heavy and fast. “So here’s some food fer you an’ some water t’ clean up wit’.”

  Shutting the door, Marianne’s concern rose at the pale sheen covering Agnes’s normally rosy face. “Please sit, Agnes. You look tired.”

  “I thank you, miss.” Agnes moaned as she lowered herself onto the mattress.

  “You don’t have to serve me, Agnes. I am sure your duties occupy much of your time.”

  Agnes plucked a handkerchief from her belt to dab her forehead and neck. “Oh, I don’t mind. It is nice havin’ another woman aboard. Besides, the cap’n ordered me to attend to your every need.”

  Marianne flinched. “I doubt that.”

  One gray eyebrow rose nearly to the lace fringing Agnes’s mobcap. “For bein’ his fiancée, you don’t know him very well.”

  “On the contrary, I grew up with him.” Marianne reached for a slice of cheese from the tray and took a bite.

  “Pish.” Agnes batted the air. “All little boys can be rascals from time t’ time.”

  The cheese soured in Marianne’s mouth even as her stomach reached up hungrily to grab it. “He was extraordinarily devilish.” She sat beside Agnes. The woman smelled of wood smoke, fish and spices—not unpleasant odors. In fact, they comforted Marianne.

  Agnes chuckled, causing the skin around her neck to jiggle. “It has been my observation that most young boys only tease girls they fancy.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Marianne snorted. “I assure you, nothing but disdain spurred him on.”

  Agnes brushed a lock of Marianne’s hair from her face. “Poor dear, you seem so out o’ sorts aboard this ship.”

  Marianne’s throat burned at the woman’s kindness. She hadn’t realized how much she needed a friend, someone whom she could confide in, someone who cared. “I worry about
my mother. She is very ill.”

  Agnes patted her hand. “I am sorry t’ hear of it, miss. It is so hard to be away from those we love, especially when they are not well.” She clucked her tongue. ”How unfortunate you wandered aboard when you did.”

  “Indeed.” Marianne twisted the ring on her finger as a hundred scenes crept out from her childhood memories—scenes of Noah’s cruel antics and how he always got the best of her. “Do you have family in America?” she finally asked Agnes.

  Agnes’s eyes drooped in sorrow. “We did. Mr. Hobbs and I. We had two sons. Both died of the grippe before they reached manhood.”

  The ship creaked and groaned as it rose over a swell. Marianne’s heart shriveled. She couldn’t imagine such a horrific loss. “I am so sorry, Agnes.”

  Agnes cleared her throat, and the momentary moisture disappeared from her eyes. “It was a long time ago. I suppose that’s why me and Mr. Hobbs have latched onto Noah. He’s like another son to us.”

  Marianne wondered how such a self-centered bore could make anyone a good son, yet the woman seemed sincere in her approbations. Perhaps the bond between them afforded Agnes some sway over the thick-headed rapscallion—a sway Marianne could use to her advantage. “Would you speak to the captain for me?” she ventured. “Beg him to turn the ship around?”

  “Oh no, no, no, dear.” Agnes gave an incredulous laugh. “When Noah sets his mind t’ make port and sell his goods, there ain’t nothing can stand in his way.”

  Marianne shook her head, her hopes crushed once again. “With men, it seems everything revolves around wealth.” Just as it had with her father.

  Agnes jerked her head back. “Money? No.” Her eyebrows drew together. “That’s not the way of it with Noah. It’s his father who drives him so hard.” She leaned toward Marianne. “If you ask me, I’d say Noah don’t care much for the money itself.”

  “Then why did he leave our engagement party in order to set sail as if the delay would cost him more than he could bear?”

  “Did he, now?” Agnes huffed and put an arm around Marianne, drawing her close. “Shame on him. Not like him at all.”