Surrender the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  “I ’ave to be goin’ now,” Daniel said.

  Marianne struggled to her feet. “Thank you for your help, Daniel. And for the Bible.”

  “My pleasure, miss.” Then, after a friendly wave, he disappeared out the door.

  Tossing the cloth aside in favor of a more important task, Marianne left the captain’s cabin and descended one level for the officer’s wardroom. Air, heavy with the smell of tar and damp wood, filled her nose—a not altogether unpleasant scent. Or perhaps she was just growing accustomed to it. Making her way down the companionway, she kept both hands raised, ready to brace herself against the bulkhead should the ship try to knock her from her feet. She couldn’t help but smile at her growing knowledge of the names assigned to parts of the ship—names she had not known a month ago.

  Rap rap rap. She tapped on the open door of the wardroom and put on her best smile for Lieutenant Reed as he glanced up from a steaming cup of tea. His brow furrowed. “Are you lost, Miss Denton?”

  “No, sir. May I have a word with you, please?”

  He scanned the room, no doubt checking to see if they were alone. Small cabins that were enclosed by little more than stretched canvas on wooden frames, lined either side of the oblong table at which he sat. Officers’ cabins, Marianne surmised. A cupboard at one end held plates, cups and cutlery as well as a variety of swords, muskets, pistols and axes.

  “Make it quick, miss. You should not be down here.” Lieutenant Reed stood, scraping his chair over the deck. He adjusted his black coat, the three gold buttons on each of his cuffs and one button on each collar glimmering in the light of a lantern that swayed overhead.

  She clasped her hands together and took a timid step within. “It is about Mr. Heaton and Mr. Brenin.”

  She detected a flinch on his otherwise staunch demeanor. “And?”

  “You know as well as I they do not deserve their punishment.”

  “It does not matter what I know or don’t know.” He snorted and plucked his cocked hat from the table. “All that matters on this ship is what the captain says.”

  Marianne twisted the ring on her finger. “Even if it is unjust and ruthless?”

  “You would do well to curb your tongue, miss. The captain is not above issuing the same punishments for a quarrelsome woman.”

  She studied the stiff man for a moment, gauging him. She knew Noah had risked punishment for her. Could she do less for him? Something deep within Mr. Reed’s hazel eyes told her he agreed with her, despite the indifferent shield he attempted to hide behind.

  “You know as well as I that the captain is not himself,” she whispered.

  A flicker of understanding darted across his eyes before they glanced away. “I know no such thing, miss.” He tugged on his neckerchief. “I could report you for such subversive words.”

  “Then do so, Lieutenant.” Marianne no longer cared. If she were to suffer for trying to correct a terrible injustice, then so be it.

  Lieutenant Reed shifted his stance. “Order must be maintained on board, miss, or we would be unable to defend our country. There must be a commander aboard this ship just as there must be a king over a country or chaos would ensue.”

  “Order, yes, but cruelty, no.” Marianne gripped the back of one of the chairs. “And permit me to correct you, sir, but chaos ensues when leaders wield their power without impunity. As is happening on this ship.”

  Lieutenant Reed studied her and for a moment she thought she’d won him to her side. But then he lengthened his stance and settled his bicorn atop his head. “I can do nothing for you.”

  “Will you at least allow me to bring some food and water to Mr. Heaton?”

  Hazel eyes sparked at her from beneath the pointed edge of his hat. “What you do in the middle of the night is of no concern to me.” One cultured brow rose slightly before he marched out of the room.

  Chapter 15

  Noah stretched his stiff shoulders and legs, trying to loosen the tight knots that held his muscles captive. Taking his place in a line of sailors on the main deck, he waited to receive a cup of grog. He’d been scouring the deck for forty-three hours. His head pounded, and his eyelids felt like iron pilings. One glance at his hands told him they were white, wrinkly, and raw from the incessant scrubbing. A flurry of hot wind swirled around him, tugging at his hair and cooling the sweat on his brow and neck. He drew in a deep breath, relishing the smell of the sea. Just another twenty-nine hours. He could do it. . . He had to do it.

  As he slogged forward in line, Noah felt Miss Denton’s presence on deck. He had no idea how, but when he glanced over his shoulder, there she was. She seemed to be looking for someone. Their eyes met and for a moment he thought he saw concern flicker within them. For him?

  A midshipman, Blake, if Noah remembered, ordered the boatswain to blow his pipe. “For all you men who cannot read, Miss Denton has offered to read your letters from home without cost before you go below for your evening mess.”

  Read letters? Noah nearly gasped. Why would she do that? She hated the British. A sailor rolled a barrel over for her, and she perched upon it and adjusted her skirts. The setting sun set her hair aflame like glistening cinnamon and cast an ethereal glow over her radiant skin. She smiled at the men forming a circle around her.

  Grabbing his ladle of grog, Noah downed it and returned to the foredeck where he’d left off scouring the oak planks. At least they allowed him food and drink. He couldn’t say the same for Luke. He cringed at what the man must be enduring chained below in the dark, dank hold.

  Picking up the holystone, Noah continued his work while keeping an eye on Miss Denton. Truth be told, he found it difficult to keep his eyes off her. One by one, the men approached her. With a smile, she took each man aside and read the contents of his missive in private. Visibly moved, some of the sailors clutched their letters to their chests as they ambled away while others broke into tears upon hearing what their loved ones had to say. What astounded Noah the most was the kind gestures and gentle way she addressed each man—each British man.

  His thoughts drifted to Miss Priscilla. Memories of their brief time together focused more clearly in his mind. Her dismissive, commanding attitude toward the servants in her home, the way she jutted out her chin and looked the other way when they passed the impoverished in the city streets.

  Truth be told, in light of Miss Denton, Priscilla’s beauty began to fade.

  Noah’s gaze latched upon Lieutenant Garrick, who stood at the helm of the quarterdeck, his beady eyes riveted upon Miss Denton. What Noah saw in those eyes made his stomach curdle—a look he’d seen in many men’s eyes when they sought only one thing from a woman.

  A surge of protectiveness rose within Noah that surprised him. But how could he protect her from a man who wielded nearly as much power as the captain himself?

  Soon, the group of sailors surrounding Miss Denton dissipated, and a bell rang from the forecastle. Noah counted the chimes as they echoed over the deck. Eight bells. Which meant it was four in the afternoon, the end of one watch and the start of another.

  But that made no difference to Noah. He must stay at his task.

  Miss Denton rose and started across the deck. She gazed up at Noah ever so briefly—too briefly—when Mr. Weller approached her, holding out a missive he must have had on him when he’d been impressed. Noah frowned. Why hadn’t he trusted Noah to read it aboard the Fortune?

  One of the sailors bumped into Mr. Weller in passing. The same pock-faced man who’d caused trouble with them below. Weller stumbled from the impact, but kept his ground. “Monsters are hatched not birthed. You ain’t got no family.” He chortled and gazed around him, eliciting the chuckles of other sailors.

  Weller glared at the man and curled his fists. The scars running down his face and neck reddened. Do not strike him, my friend. Noah silently pleaded. Or you’ll end up like me, or worse. Leaping to his feet, Noah scurried down the foredeck ladder, shoving men aside in order to save his friend from doing somethi
ng that would warrant a lashing.

  Miss Denton’s voice shot across the deck, halting him. “You will take that back this instant, Mr. Mr...”

  The sailor froze, studied her for a moment, and dragged off his hat. “Wilcox, miss.”

  “Do you judge a man by his scars, Mr. Wilcox? Or do you judge a man by his character?” She pointed at Weller. “These scars are evidence of Mr. Weller’s great bravery during battle. Have you any to compare?”

  The man’s spiteful eyes narrowed as Noah made his way toward Miss Denton. Yet despite the fury storming on the man’s face and his defiant stance, Miss Denton held her ground. She placed her hands atop her hips. “Apologize at once.”

  The man hesitated, spit to the side, then spun on his heels and marched away.

  Releasing a sigh, Noah approached her. Admiration welled within him, along with the realization that the woman he’d known as a child no longer existed. He wanted to tell her that she should curb that reckless tongue of hers on board this ship. He wanted to tell her that she was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

  But the loud shout of a petty officer behind him halted him. “Get back to work, Brenin! Or the cap’n will hear of this!”

  Miss Denton gathered her skirts and their eyes met. She smiled at him before she descended the companionway ladder and Noah’s heart soared in the brightness of that smile.

  ♦♦♦

  Marianne crept forward, peering through the gloom of the sailor’s berth below deck. Her toe struck something sharp, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Daniel turned and laid a finger over his mouth then proceeded around a corner and into a large area filled with hammocks that swayed back and forth with each movement of the ship. At well past midnight, Marianne hoped most of the crew would be asleep. Her fears were allayed when nothing but snoring, occasional grunts, and the creaking of the ship combined into a discordant chant. Gesturing for her to wait, Daniel disappeared among the oscillating gray masses. The lantern the young boy held cast eerie shadows over the scene as he wove between the sleeping mounds, making them look like giant cocoons—cocoons out of which woman-eating insects could burst forth at any minute. A chill overcame Marianne at the thought, and she hugged herself. Her nose curled at the stench of sweat and filth that hung in the room like a cloud.

  Moments later, Daniel returned and beckoned her onward. On the other side of the room, seated on the hard floor, his legs in irons hooked to the deck, sat Mr. Heaton, his head reclining on his knees. Beyond him, a marine, musket gripped in his hand, slouched against the bulkhead fast asleep.

  Kneeling beside Luke, Marianne touched his arm, and he jerked his head up, tugging on his chains. The clanking dissipated amidst the snores and creaks.

  He gaped at her, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked. “Miss Denton, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “Shhh.” She glanced at the marine. “I brought you some grog and a biscuit.”

  He looked over his shoulder, alarm tightening his features. Stubble peppered his jaw, and his black hair hung limp over his shoulders. Even in the dim lantern light, Marianne could make out a purple bruise circling his swollen eye.

  “Do you know what they’ll do to you if you’re caught?” he whispered, then glanced at Daniel keeping watch not three feet away. “And you too.”

  “It will be all right.” The assurance in the boy’s voice gave Marianne an odd sense of comfort.

  “Be gone with you, Miss Denton.” Luke dropped his head back onto his knees.

  Ignoring him, she nudged his chin up and lifted the cup to his lips. “Drink this and be quiet, Mr. Heaton.”

  She tipped the mug, and he gulped the liquid, releasing a sigh when he had drained the last drop.

  “I never thought stale water and rum would taste so good.”

  “Here.” She handed him two biscuits. “Don’t leave any crumbs.” She smiled.

  A snort sounded from one from the hammocks. Another man cried out in his sleep. The guard shifted his weight and scratched his nose.

  Marianne froze, her eyes shifting from Mr. Heaton to Daniel.

  Taking the biscuit, he gestured for her to leave. She started to get up.

  He grabbed her arm. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

  Her heart pounding, Marianne dashed between the hammocks and followed Daniel up one deck. She held the bundle containing another two biscuits close to her chest.

  “Thank you, Daniel.” She leaned and kissed him on top of his head. “Now get some sleep.”

  “Where are you going, miss?” He looked at her with concern.

  “I’m going to check on Mr. Brenin.”

  ♦♦♦

  Noah lifted the collar of his coat to shield his neck from the evening wind that despite the summer month carried the bite of the cold north Atlantic. Though he could tell from the stars and sun that they sailed a southwest course, he had no idea where they were heading or what his plan should be once they got to their destination. Struggling to his feet, he stretched his cramped legs and blew into his hands to try to spark some life back into his stiff fingers.

  He scanned the deck. Save for the helmsman, and two lookouts, the rest of the crew was no doubt fast asleep below. Even the poor marine assigned to guard him seemed deep in slumber as he slouched against a railing on the foredeck. Good. That would give Noah a chance to take a respite from his hard labor.

  Off their starboard port, a half moon winked at him as waves frolicked in its glistening light as if they hadn’t a care in the world. He envied them. He hung his head, fighting back a wave of exhaustion. Sorrow and shame followed close on its wake. He had lost his cargo, lost his father’s last ship, and lost all means of providing for his family. Regardless that the fault lay elsewhere, his father would consider it Noah’s responsibility and hence, Noah’s failure. And a failure he was.

  Even if he managed to escape, without his father’s merchant business he would be nothing but an impoverished sailor. No doubt Miss Priscilla would refuse to even see him. Yet it was not her pretty face he found drifting unbidden into his mind of late. It was the face of another woman, not nearly as striking, but a face that shone with its own unique brilliance. Noah stared at the holystones by his feet—the ones he’d been using to scour the deck for the past fifty-two hours. Confound it all, he should be angry at Miss Denton, not dreaming of her like a love-sick school boy.

  An invisible weight tugged upon his eyelids as he plodded across the deck trying to get the blood pumping in his legs again. How long could a man live without sleep? Another twenty hours to go. He could make it. He had to make it. To fall asleep meant certain death.

  Noah spun on his heels and headed in the other direction. A lady dressed in a fiery maroon gown glided over the deck. Her brown hair shimmered. He rubbed his eyes. No doubt the lack of sleep caused him to hallucinate. But then he smelled her sweet scent—Marianne—and he opened his eyes to her creamy face awash in moonlight. “Are you real?” he asked.

  “Quite, Mr. Brenin. And I bear gifts.” She held out a biscuit to him. Her sweet smile nearly stole his breath away.

  Despite her kind intentions, Noah’s fear for her safety rose at her foolishness. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, ignoring the offer of food despite his growling stomach.

  “I shouldn’t be many places these days. However, it is on my account you are scrubbing these decks all day and night with no rest in sight.” She avoided his gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Brenin, for trying to help me. Though I can’t imagine why you did after I put you on this ship in the first place.”

  After a quick glance across the deck, Noah took her arm and led her to a more secluded spot behind the ship’s boats. He ran a hand through his hair. “Despite what you may think, I am still a gentleman, and this is no place for a lady.” Is that why he had risked punishment to save her? To appease his gentlemanly duty?

  A breeze stirred the tendrils of her hair circling her face. She brushed them back and studied him. “Why aren’t you angry with me? I’v
e ruined your life. I’ve caused you and your friends great harm and loss.”

  “Who says I’m not angry at you?” He folded his arms over his chest.

  She studied him. “Your eyes.”

  “Humph. Then I shall have to speak to them about keeping quiet from now on.” He couldn’t help but smile.

  Her nose pinked and she lowered her gaze. “You mock me, sir.”

  He shook his head and laid a finger beneath her chin, raising her eyes—sparkling brown eyes so full of sincerity and kindness–to his. “I was angry at you, Miss Denton. But what purpose does it serve? You were only trying to get home to your mother.” He sighed. “Perhaps I should have returned you to Baltimore at your request. I was so obsessed with getting my goods to England.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gazed out to sea. “Now I have no goods and no ship.”

  “Thanks to me.” Her voice sank.

  “Egad, but ruining my cargo.” He chuckled. “Quite imaginative. I suppose it is fair recompense for all the pranks I pulled on you as a child.”

  “It was a means to an end.” She gave him a sad smile. “I take no pride in the action.” She held out the biscuit to him again. He took it this time, allowing his fingers to linger over hers. Why, he didn’t know. But her touch had a curious effect upon him, sending tendrils of warmth up his arm. “They are permitting me to eat.”

  “I know.” Her eyes misted with tears. “I thought it would help you stay awake. I brought another one.” She held out her bundle, but he pushed it back, shoving the biscuit into his pocket. He had more important matters on his mind than food. “How are you?”

  The ship rose over a swell. She stumbled and Noah grabbed her waist to steady her, drawing her near. Her alluring scent filled his nostrils and his body quickened. Confusion hammered through his mind. He wasn’t supposed to desire this woman, this woman who had snubbed her nose at him as a child, this woman who was both plain and plump. He was supposed to be convincing her to break off their engagement. Though he wondered if that truly mattered anymore.