“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 crewmen 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 topmen 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 topcrew 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 towa
rd 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.”
Marianne gazed up at him. “You are an honorable man for an Englishmen.”
“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 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 earthy 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 shoulder
s. 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.
Surrender the Sea Page 31