“Haven’t we all?” Ike asked, scratching his blue-checkered shirt. “The boy can wait to get home until after we go to London like the rest of us.”
“But I can’t,” she said before thinking better of it.
Ike’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Oh dear. Her presence aboard the Sea Wolf was upsetting the dynamics of Wolf’s crew and keeping them from doing what they needed to do. Guilt clawed at her throat. She had no idea why the captain and his crew were needed in London, but Owen was her only sibling. He was an excellent laborer, and he was loyal, resourceful, and dedicated. He’d even tried to persuade her not to marry Lord Gariland. He’d only been minutes away from telling her why when they’d been attacked by highwaymen.
How long could Owen last in Cadiz?
“Accordin’ to who?” Hawk brushed her aside, drawing her attention back to the two men. Apparently their banter had become far more heated.
Ike spit over the gunwale. “Me.”
“Are ye challengin’ the captain’s authority?” Hawk positioned himself between Selina and Ike, braced for a fight.
Ike’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’d rather take an earth bath or drown in me own blood.”
“It’ll be a sea burial for me, Ike,” Hawk said.
“Enough talk of death,” she cut in. The last thing she wanted was to create unrest among Wolf’s crew. “I’ve seen too much of it.” These men had put their lives on the line for her outside the Wasp. And though they argued against it, they were continuing that valiant effort by taking her home. She could not bear anyone else suffering on her account. “There’s no reason to fight,” she went on, moving Hawk out of her way. “I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“No trouble?” Ike sneered. “We wouldn’t be fightin’ if ye weren’t aboard this ship, lad.”
“Are ye daft?” Hawk countered. “Don’t confuse the boy. We’re always at each other’s throats.”
“Sail dead astern!” a topman shouted, filling Selina with alarm.
Ike and Hawk glanced skyward. Selina raised her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun so she could do the same. She searched the shrouds until she found a man pointing south in the crosstrees.
“Can you make her out, Crowle?” Wolf’s voice called above the thunderous sails.
Crowle’s words carried down again. “She’s French, sir!”
French? Oh God. Was it possible Robillard had sent a ship after them? Fear surged through her, rooting her feet to the deck. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—be captured again.
“Position?” Wolf asked.
“Three leagues, sir! She’s fully rigged!”
Wolf moved to the rail, and Selina followed him with her eyes. He looked through a spyglass, angling the spectacle astern. Her heart thudded, and her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, trying to hide her nervousness as she followed the direction he aimed the lens and inspected the horizon, hoping the topman had made a mistake. But he hadn’t. There, just briefly, she caught sight of a ship running with the wind. Surely it wasn’t . . . It couldn’t be . . .
Le Serpent!
Frantically trying to calm her beating heart, Selina glanced at Wolf. This was her fault. She’d known Robillard would never let them go without a chase. She’d seen the way he’d dealt with his loyal men.
Wolf popped the spyglass into a six-inch cylinder, its brass trim glinting in the sunlight. He turned to shout at Cyrus, who was dressed in muted black and manning the helm. “Steer west-north-west!”
“Aye, sir!”
“Let go tacks and sheets!” he commanded. He turned toward her, his gaze meeting hers across the deck. His scowl told her all she needed to know: the ship bearing down on them was out for blood.
“Loose the topgallants!” Mr. Savage shouted, seemingly at the top of his lungs.
“Time to earn yer keep, Herding,” Ike said. He and Hawk turned and climbed the ropes attached to the halyard pins, then stopped and stood at the base of the ratlines. “Come along.”
If she didn’t follow their orders, she’d garner more scorn. “You know my name?” she asked, wondering what else had the captain had told them.
Hawk leaned out, dangling by one arm, his feet braced on the ropes. “Cap’n doesn’t keep anythin’ from us. We’re family. That’s why we succeed when others don’t.”
The way they addressed her, she doubted that was true. Else they’d know she was a woman. Or were they pretending not to notice? “Is that why you are squabbling?”
“Squabblin’ . . .” Ike glanced down at her, snarling. “Ye’ve been on board the Sea Wolf for a little over a day, but ye still know nothin’ about us. Aye, we’ve been together many years, since were young enough to sail. And proud of it, too. I wouldn’t serve under anyone else.” His eyes gleamed. “Cyrus, there—” he pointed to the helmsman “—is Hawk’s brother. No question he’s the better man.”
“Eyes like an eagle,” Hawk said, his words heavily laced with sarcasm.
“Won’t find better,” Ike agreed. “Can sail us anywhere, shallow or no.”
“In a gale durin’ a pitch-black night,” Hawk added. Cyrus and Hawk had the same build, square jaw, and long, narrow nose, but the resemblance ended there because Hawk didn’t wear glasses, which made her doubt the truthfulness of his comments. “I’ve heard it all before. Ye make a habit out of comparing the two of us.”
Selina’s gaze focused on Cyrus as he managed the steering mechanism. The wind blew his shoulder-length hair away from his face as he spoke to several men who were assisting him. The sails flickered and whipped into place above her head, the sound ominous as the other ship approached. Men scampered up the ratlines toward the yards.
“’Tis the very reason I do it, ye sod,” Ike said. “A good fight gets me blood pumping.”
“I’m up to the task. Are ye?”
“Stations for stays!” Wolf hollered, putting an end to their argument.
Mr. Savage repeated the command aft of the ship.
“Hurry up, lad!” Hawk glanced at Selina. “We won’t outrun that bastard if we don’t work together.”
“Aye,” she said as she looked up and surveyed the shrouds, her hands trembling.
“Ye’ll be fine as long as ye don’t look down,” Hawk assured her. “That’s the worst thing a green tar like ye can do.”
Her knees began to shake. The thick braided rope felt foreign in her palms as she grabbed hold, its abrasive filaments chafing her already-raw wrists. She moaned inwardly against the burning sensation. Up, up, up she climbed to the topmast cap, following wherever Ike and Hawk scampered, her muscles protesting the exertion after being confined to small spaces for weeks.
The wind pressed against her, forcing her to tighten her grip on lifts and clew lines. Her breath caught in gasping waves as the heights grew perilous. And yet Selina pressed on, summoning resources she’d forgotten she had as she followed Ike and Hawk aloft.
Several grueling moments later, they reached the crosstrees of the topsail yards. Together, they scaled the futtock shrouds, Selina hanging on for dear life, then continued the climb until they neared the topgallant yards.
“Mount the horse, boy. Lend a hand,” Hawk said, raising his voice to be heard over the clapping sails. His nod indicated she should walk out on a single rope with nothing but a rope and the yard itself for purchase. “It’s easier for men that are spry. A lad like ye should take to the horse easily enough. Just remember, one hand on the ship, the other for yerself.”
Selina fought the urge to look down, wondering how high up they were. She ground her teeth until she thought they would crack. How was she going to do this? She knew nothing about ships! But she had climbed trees at Trethewey. She’d scaled down ladders in and out of shafts and pit mines since childhood, blinded by the dank dark or driven to fresh air and the sun’s welcoming heat. But the Sea Wolf wasn’t underground. Here, she could see the heights she scaled and the depths she needed to descend clear
ly, and it was terrifying.
Her muscles ached and her limbs quaked, nerves on edge. These men were depending on her aid. They’d saved her life. Unless she helped them, French cannons would tear the Sea Wolf apart. And all because of her.
Ike was the first one out on the footropes. He began working on the first reef knot, leaving every other one for the men who followed.
“Take care not to swing yer feet under the yard,” Hawk advised over the wind. “Use yer elbows, hands, and shoulders to hang on.”
“Aye,” Selina replied. Determined to do her part, no matter the danger to herself, she did as Hawk said, shuffling along the horse.
Step, slide. Step, slide.
“Let loose!” Wolf commanded from below.
“Loose the t’gallant together now!” Ike shouted amid the deafening snaps of the canvas.
Selina joined Ike, Hawk, and several other men as they worked together to lower the boom and cast off reef tackles and buntlines until the top gallant let out a crisp thwack.
“Haul taut!” a cry sounded from the deck.
The braces groaned as the top gallant was raised into place.
Selina looked at the foremast, where another top gallant broke free along with studding sails. The Sea Wolf, her newly sprouted wings secured, surged over a swell. Sea spray washed over the deck, attesting to her increased speed as she sliced through the troughs like a skipping stone.
Men shouted gleefully as the French ship faded into the distance.
“What cheer ho?” someone shouted.
“Huzzah!” came the rowdy answer.
Amid the growing peels of joy, Selina’s breath hitched. Never in her life had she felt so exhilarated. Well, aside from the bliss she had experienced in Wolf’s arms. Nothing compared to his kiss.
Hawk shuffled toward her. “Turned a fine tar, ye did. Welcome aboard, lad.”
Heart full, Selina smiled. Hawk stared at her oddly, probably unaccustomed to such a show of emotion. She was too euphoric to care, though, as she gazed hopefully at the horizon. She was headed home.
Throughout her odyssey, she’d encountered men who’d wanted to subdue her, though the men in the Wasp hadn’t known she was a woman. The danger of that discovery had been real, the risk to her mind and body great. Along the way, however, she’d finally found her independent nature. As a consequence, she’d accomplished something of merit, something that mattered. She’d survived by her own intuition, no less. And she’d been further altered, maybe even emboldened, by Wolf’s kiss.
She raised her hand to her lips. How could she possibly marry Lord Gariland now?
Chapter Ten
Wolf braced his feet shoulder width apart at the Sea Wolf’s starboard quarter. “Thank you for coming through for me again, love,” he said, caressing her oaken rail.
Always! the hissing wake rising and falling along the hull whispered back.
He inhaled a lungful of sea air, allowing the spray to rejuvenate him. Wolf drew power from the sea. That had been one advantage to accepting Captain Charve’s generous offer to join his crew twenty years ago in Bristol. Charve had been a brilliant commander. He’d taught Wolf the complexities of battle and given him the means to always think one step ahead of the enemy. Even so, nearer misses than this failed attack had sailed in and out of his path, both at sea and on dry land.
Wolf sighed. King George had given him permission to raid French ships. It didn’t sit well with him—or his crew, he imagined—that they’d been forced to outrun the frogs. They could have easily used the gun chasers in the Sea Wolf’s stern to defeat them or heaved to and faced them head-on, if not for the girl and the need to get to London.
He started as laughter met his ears. He raised his gaze aloft, witnessing Selina scaling the shrouds. She was easy to spot in the embroidered vest he’d given her, and he admired her athletic body as she stepped in and out of the ratlines. She was nimble and quick, not once looking down at the deck, which was the crucial mistake many a topman made before falling to his death. She was a natural. Why, then, did it bother him?
“Let the boy enjoy his newfound freedom,” Cyrus said, having abandoned his post at the helm to stand beside Wolf. “We could use another swab on deck.” Cyrus tilted his head, inhaling deeply as sunlight glinted off the Sea Wolf’s pristine white sails.
Wolf groaned inwardly. Selina’s true identity was on the tip of his tongue. “He’s not accustomed to the heights. It’s dangerous for anyone to be up there.”
He trusted Ike and Hawk, but the only way to ensure Selina’s safety was to climb the rigging himself and bring her down. Doing so, however, would only draw attention to her. And it might possibly devalue her attempts to prove herself to the crew.
“The boy strikes me as capable of far more than ye can imagine, Cap’n,” Cyrus said. “In all my years at sea, I’ve learned to spot these things. Only takes a boy a few goes to believe it.”
Wolf clasped his hands behind his back and squeezed his fingers. A sense of urgency took hold of him, grappling with his innards. He cringed, hoping his decision not to order Selina to come down from the shrouds was the right choice. His instincts told him Selina would be all right, but the beast inside him struggled against a deep-seated fear that harm would come to this woman before he could fulfill his promise to return her safely home.
Yet, a part of him knew what motivated Selina. Like him, she hadn’t grown up with loving parents. Like him, she’d struggled to carve out an identity for herself, suppressing emotions that would undo her. He’d never met anyone else who could possibly understand what he’d been through, someone who’d forged a life for themselves without knowing who they truly were.
Knowing a better future awaited Selina in Redruth, Wolf supposed putting distance between them was the best option. Wellington depended on Wolf’s ability to respond at a moment’s notice, and he’d seen what relationships did to spies. Even now, Joanna, Hartland, and the others fought against a nefarious foe in London, and the Legion could not recruit enough spies to defeat Tyhpon and Napoleon fast enough. Wolf could not let himself get involved with her. Connections trapped a man in a quagmire of choices he wouldn’t have to make if he wasn’t emotionally attached to another, especially to someone who would only complicate his life like Selina.
She was betrothed. She’d been raised and trained for greater things. She’d been kidnapped on her wedding day, which meant that when she returned to Redruth, to her father and her fiancé, a wedding would proceed without delay. Her reputation had suffered, it was true, but in Wolf’s dealings with society, crying off rarely occurred among the upper class, and it was quite scandalous if it did. Though Selina was not part of the ton, she was a merchant’s daughter—albeit a rich one—and therefore, more subject to public scorn.
The marriage would likely still take place. Couples often retreated and reemerged into society after scandals had taken place. It wouldn’t do for Wolf to ruminate over what might or might not occur in Selina’s life. There was no place for him in it, just as there was no place for Selina in his.
He cut his gaze to his helmsman. Cyrus and the other members of his crew had been with him for fifteen years. They’d fought and bled together in countless skirmishes and assignments, traveling to Japan to the Colonies to France, Spain, and Italy. These loyal men had followed him to the ends of the Earth and back. He would do the same for them.
“How long before we make port?” he asked Cyrus.
“We’re passin’ St. Ives now, Cap’n.” Cyrus pointed forward off the starboard bow. “Should be nearin’ Deadman’s Cove soon. Do ye remember the time we saw a black figure standin’ on the cliffs there?”
Wolf smirked. “A smuggler or a lookout, no doubt.”
“Aye. But when we visited the Arms in Portreath and questioned the regulars, we discovered the local folk tell grisly tales of ghost sightin’s there.”
“Superstitious nonsense,” Wolf said. “I’ll never put faith in what I can’t see with my own eyes.”
>
“Saw it, I did, Cap’n. Plain as day.”
“Trick of the light,” he said. “We’re coming round the headland now. Deadman’s Cove is near, which means we’re almost a league from Portreath.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Keep your heading, Cyrus. Soon, we’ll be putting Herding and Cornwall behind us.”
“What of Lord Hartland, sir? Can he wait?”
“Hartland may be in over his head helping a woman in distress,” he said. As was he, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. He’d never had luck with women and feared his relationship with Selina would be no exception. “Nothing he cannot handle.”
“Woman trouble for the earl, then, sir?”
“Aye,” he said, pausing. “Is there any other kind?” He glanced at Cyrus, wondering if the man was alluding to Wolf’s dealings with Selina. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? “Men in our profession seem to be prone.”
“Including you, sir?” Cyrus tilted his head to the side, focusing his attention on Wolf.
Wolf crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you say that?”
Cyrus shrugged as if it were obvious. “Look what happened to Devlin, Alexander, Lords St. Peter and Bateman, Fortescue, and Hoskins.”
“You’re keeping count, I see.”
“A man has eyes,” Cyrus said. “Speakin’ of which . . . if we intend to keep ye out of Miss Herding’s skirts, Cap’n, we must get rid of her. The duke cannot wait.”
He rocked on his heels slightly as a chill swept over him. “You know?”
“The men would have to blind not to see it, sir.” Cyrus chuckled as they regarded the activity on deck. “Perhaps I’m not the only one who needs spectacles, eh?”
“Stay your course, old friend.” Wolf rubbed his scruffy, bearded chin, thankful his helmsman had kept his findings to himself. “You’re right about one thing—Hartland cannot wait. Lives are at stake.”
And so is Owen Herding’s.
A nagging suspicion bore into him like a brackish thorn. Selina had proven she’d do anything to get her brother back, but how far was she truly willing to go? Would she sail to Cadiz with the wrong kind of men? Men who would take her lust for adventure to mean something more?
The Mercenary Pirate (The Heart of a Hero Book 10) Page 12