“It’s them,” Mark finally said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The crew bristled with excitement and agitation, some moving to grab their weapons and ready for battle.
“We won’t be pursuing them just yet,” Captain Lomas yelled over them.
“What? Why?” The shout came from one of the men who had gone to arms, his pistol already half loaded in his hands.
“The time isn’t right,” Lomas explained. “The wind is good for us, which means it’s good for them. Señor Bell has told us they have oars to help their cause, as well. If we give chase now, they could easily lose us.”
“We want to maintain the element of surprise,” Tristan added, continuing on at the Captain’s approval. “Right now, they think we’ve gone after them on land. The few men we caught and questioned told us that Randall ordered all those who survived to head north, out of the city.”
“But they changed direction and headed back to sea after re-grouping.” Mark stepped forward, the glass still in his hands as he looked down at it. After a moment, he raised his head, appearing to stare at each person in turn as he began again. “I worked for Thomas Randall for over a year. His specialty is in deceit, not weapons or running. He will do whatever it takes to get what he wants, even if it means losing time or men.
“I have seen what remains of a ship at the bottom of the ocean. One of us will be taken under in battle. I know that thinking I have knowledge like that is hard for some of you to believe.”
It wasn’t. The Templars understood there was truth in all things. Even as he said the words, I watched the men wave him off. They would trust whatever he told them about the future, especially after I vouched for him.
“We’re not to the place where the fight is going to happen.” Mark visibly swallowed, pulling back for a moment and then went on. “It’s important that we don’t change the future. If I don’t come study the wreck, I won’t make it to this point in time. There will have been no reason for me to learn the things that helped me decide what to do here. Everything will change, maybe even the world as I know it. We have to wait until we’re in the bay.”
Captain Lomas nodded in agreement, pursing his lips, and then looked out over deck, eyeing the sails overhead. “Tie them down,” he ordered, motioning up with his hands. “We can’t keep the element of surprise if they see us coming. We need to back away.”
There was only a second of hesitation, the crew appearing to think over everything they’d just been told, before they burst into a flurry of action. Riggers scaled the ropes like rats, speeding up the masts and tying the sails down. Almost instantaneously, I felt our progress in the water halt, our speed dropping to practically nothing. In the distance, the pirate ship sailed on, seemingly unaware of us hunting right behind it.
Leaving Abella on the top deck, I moved to follow Tristan, who was going below for some reason. I’d lost Mark in the movements of the crew, thinking he must have gone into the Captain’s Cabin with Lomas to discuss how things should happen further. As I came down the stairs, though, I heard him calling to Tristan. Apparently, he was already down there as well.
Curious, I paused on the steps, wondering if I should go back up and leave them be, or if it was okay to let myself in on the conversation. It soon became clear that this wasn’t something I needed to be a part of, but my feelings got the better of me. Sitting on the step, I listened intently, not wanting to miss a thing.
“Thank you for backing me up,” Mark was saying. “I didn’t think Captain Lomas was going to listen to me.”
“Lomas likes to think he’s the only one who knows what’s going on,” Tristan responded, laughing. “Sometimes, he needs the extra push.”
“Really, though.” It sounded like someone had stepped forward, or away, but the movement stopped at Mark’s words. “Thank you. I know you’ve had a hard time with me being here. I don’t blame you, at all. It means a lot to me that you would help me even with everything going on.”
“I appreciate that ye can see why I wouldn’t want ye around,” Tristan returned amicably. “But I don’t blame ye for loving Samantha. Just like ye understand where I am on the matter, I understand where ye are.”
“You do?” He sounded cautious and wary, the words more doubtful than believing.
In response, Tristan chuckled again, sighing. “I love her, too, aye? I know what it is to look at her and want her more than anything in the world. Ye can’t help it, even if ye have to fight it. Loving her is like breathing; it’s easy to do without even thinking, but if ye ever try to stop, ye’ve started down a path that will quickly kill ye.”
“You’ve never watched her love another man in your place.”
Mark talked so quietly I almost didn’t even hear him. The sadness of his voice spoke to me in a way the words hadn’t, though. He was hurting, hurting because of me, and I would never be able to do anything to fix it for him. Perhaps that was why it pained him so much, because he knew there would never be anyone but Tristan for me.
“No, I haven’t.” The compassion in Tristan’s voice surprised me, but it made my heart overflow with love for him. He could have shut Mark out entirely, but here he was, not only talking about it, but being kind to him as well. “And for that, I do not envy ye.”
The two of them paused in their conversation, making me wish I’d also sat somewhere that I could have seen what was going on.
“I guess I’ll get going,” Mark finally said, his tone somewhat strained.
“Wait.” Tristan sounded hesitant now, but there was a desire to his speech that I recognized immediately. He had something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to put it into words. When that happened between us, we always managed to figure out what it was together. Now, I wondered if Mark would understand whatever it was that was so important.
“Thank you,” Tristan started quietly, his tone gaining some strength. “For taking care of her. She told me everything you did. I—” Faltering, he let silence stretch between them again. After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for loving her and taking care of her how I would have. I couldn’t be there for her. I’m glad that you were the one to do it.”
I could hear it all in his voice, the fear and anger he’d shared with me, the mourning over his daughter, the hate towards Randall and what he’d done, and his uncertainty toward Mark. He wasn’t usually pressed to find words to express himself, but I felt he’d managed it this time.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming when you did.” Mark sounded somewhat emotional as well, and I smiled, happy that they were working everything out.
“I’m not sorry I shot ye, though,” Tristan added gruffly.
“I would expect nothing less than for you to shoot anyone you saw kissing your wife,” Mark replied seriously.
And, just like that, the spell was broken. The men laughed, a relief that even I could feel. They headed in the same direction, talking about plans for when we arrived in the bay, and the conversation drifted away from me.
Standing, I went back up to the top deck, looking for the ship on the horizon. It had already disappeared and I wondered exactly how long it would be before we were back together, reprising our battle on Oak Isle more than a year earlier.
“Do you need anything, Samantha?”
Turning, I smiled at Abella, nodding for her to join me. “I think it’s safe to say you’re not my maid anymore,” I told her, laughing. “You don’t need to wait on me.”
“Truthfully? I don’t know what else to do.” She giggled, tucking a strand of her long hair behind an ear. “You don’t need my assistance getting dressed anymore, since you insist on wearing pants while on board. The cook doesn’t need help. The crew does all the cleaning as it’s assigned to them. I don’t know anything about how to sail. Even as we get ready to track down this ship and fight, all I can think about is how I don’t know anything to defend myself. Captain Lomas says we should be at battle in two days’ time and I feel like a sitting du
ck, just waiting for someone to pick me off and be done with it.”
“You’ve been helping Mark,” I offered, trying to make her feel better. “Making sure his wound is okay and all that. I’m sure he appreciates it.”
“The only reason I know anything about taking care of gunshot wounds is because I had one myself.” Grinning, she blushed slightly, shaking her head. “Mine wasn’t anywhere near as bad as his, either. The shot grazed me along one side. It bled badly, but nothing else. Most of all, I was just weak from shock and blood loss.”
Those sounded like Tristan’s words coming out of her mouth, more of an explanation to herself as to how she had survived the ordeal.
“I just want to be useful,” she continued, staring at the water as it lapped softly against the hull of the ship. “What am I if I can’t be worth something to someone?”
“You’re worth a lot to me,” I told her seriously. “Maid or not. You’re my friend. You matter.”
“Friend to a time traveler.” She smiled crookedly, looking back at me. There was a light in her eyes and a determination that flared up in that second, making my own eyes widen. “Will you teach me how to fight, Sam? All this time, I kept thinking that I lived for some reason. I lived through my father, through your abduction. God must be saving me for something and I want to be ready for whatever it is. I want—” She blushed even harder, clearing her throat, her form straightening. “I want to be like you.”
Her words made me feel unworthy of her praise, but I was honored at the same time. No one had ever told me they wanted to be like me before. It was . . . surreal.
“I have to be honest, Abella. A lot of what I’ve been through—and the resulting outcomes—have been luck. I don’t feel like I’m the great person some have made me out to be. But, I can help you learn how to fight, if you really want to. It’s a good idea, especially when you think about where we’re headed.”
She made her agreement clear, biting the inside of her lip again. “When can we start?”
“I’ll ask Tristan when he thinks he can help. His input will be nice to have.” Especially since I’m rusty when it comes to sword fighting, I added silently. The last time I’d really handled a blade was on Oak Isle, fighting Randall in the Pit.
Practically beaming, she curtseyed, turning to go. “I’d better change,” she explained. “I don’t think a dress is proper attire for a combat lesson. Thank you, Sam. From the bottom of my heart.”
Watching as she left, I smiled, seeing Tristan approaching out of the corner of my eye. “Abella wants us to teach her how to fight,” I told him, leaning back against his chest. “For some reason, she wants to be more like me.”
“She already is like you,” he stated, not surprised by the request in the slightest.
“And how do you know that?”
“When she found out I was leaving with Lomas and his crew to come after you, she insisted she go along. It was such a persuasive argument that even Lomas fought for her to travel. I had never seen anything like it, except from you.”
“So you agreed to let her join because you saw me in her?” Chuckling, I turned around to look at him, taking his hand in mine.
“I never would have let her come if I hadn’t.”
Impatiently, I waited for the long boat that had been sent out an hour before to return. Our destination was just ahead, hidden behind a rocky shoreline that kept us out of view of our enemies. Right now, somewhere in a small rowboat, Mark and Tristan were with three other men, surveying the bay for the ship we hoped was there. Every now and then, an irrational thought would pop into my mind—what if they were caught? What if the Black Knights weren’t here?
The presence of Abella helped to steady me more than ever as she stood beside me, watching the waters. Her two days of training wouldn’t have prepared her in any way for what was about to happen, but she carried a small sword all the same, a pistol on her other hip. After a few minutes, she would shift, as if she were uncomfortable in the brown pants I’d given her, but other than that, she showed no sign of worry.
“They’ll be back soon,” she assured me, smiling tightly. “And then this whole nightmare will be over.”
Biting back a contrary response, I nodded, thinking it best to not speak of Randall and his ability to escape when it should have been impossible. This was either a single battle in a long war, or the end of an epidemic. Only time would tell.
A few moments later, I saw the small craft, rowing steadily toward us from around the rocks. A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding let loose and my shoulders relaxed, my hand leaving the hilt of my sword.
As the men climbed aboard, I found myself eagerly waiting with the rest of the crew to find out what they’d learned.
“The ship is there,” Mark announced at last, grinning. “And she’s empty, save around five men.”
There was no cheer, everyone wanting to stay quiet while in hiding, but a shot of energy coursed over everyone, bringing smiles to their faces.
“Are you sure?” Captain Lomas looked at the group with a hard expression, clearly wanting detailed statistics on what was going on.
“I climbed the side of the ship and looked myself,” Tristan replied easily. “There’s hardly anyone there, and only missionaries on shore.”
“The rest must have moved on to the mountains,” Lomas said, taking in the information. “Those left behind will be guards until they return. The fight should be easy enough. Once the vessel is taken care of, we can unload our provisions and follow after the rest.”
“It won’t be easy,” I piped up. “Especially now that it’s monsoon season.”
“There will be a lot of rain, dust storms, and other weather anomalies to be wary of,” Mark agreed. “The Superstitions are at least a month away on foot. If we want to catch up before they reach the treasure, we’re going to have to be smart. It’s very easy to lose men in the desert.”
“Then we’ll count ourselves lucky that we have two people who have lived there to get us through.” Tristan smiled as he spoke, obviously feeling confident about the endeavor. It was no wonder; when we’d had our fight on Oak Isle, there was no time window to stop Randall from getting in. He’d been there for weeks already, digging down to the treasure. Now, there was a chance we would stop them before they even got to their destination. With the Black Knights out of the way, the Order could safely reclaim the treasure they had lost, maybe even leaving it where it was, if it was guarded enough.
“O’Rourke,” Lomas spoke, turning to him. “What do you say? Shall we sail in now and get this taken care of?”
“I think so,” he agreed. “Surprise is still ours. There’s no need to wait for nightfall to attack five men.”
Lomas smirked, drawing his sword and moving to everyone else. “Man your stations!” he yelled, heading toward the helm.
Men darted every which way, the sails billowing out above us, catching the air and pulling us forward with a sudden tug. Grabbing onto the side railing, Abella and I watched, the wind blowing our hair back from our faces as we came around the rocks.
And that was when all hell promptly broke loose.
It was an ambush; the Black Knights were already aware we had arrived. Cannons fired from the enemy ship, barely missing us. On shore, more guns suddenly appeared, shooting as we made what had now become a suicide run down the shore. One blast hit our center mast, cracking the top off, the highest of our sails swinging down and hanging precariously over our heads.
“Get away from the edge!” Tristan screamed, ducking as another shot flew over our heads and landed in the water on the other side of us.
Throwing myself on top of Abella, we hit the deck as another cannon took out the banister, inches from where we’d just been standing.
“Fire!” Lomas shrieked the order, desperately trying to turn the ship around, but the loss of our topsail had slowed us down by so much that we were hardly even moving. As he shouted out orders to fight back, another cannon blasted from the
pirate ship, which was now headed toward us, and it hit true; the helm burst into pieces, flying into Lomas’s face and knocking him back.
The world seemed to slow down around me as I watched, bits of wood and rope flying in every direction as we were hit, over and over again. Lomas lay unconscious or dead, blood dripping from his left ear. Tristan was stumbling down the stairs, narrowly avoiding being hit. Abella was screeching underneath me, terror in her eyes as I tried to shield her with my body. Mark was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear him shouting among the other men below deck.
Finally, I saw someone raise a gun, aim, and fire at the shore, smiling in anxious panic as the shot apparently hit whomever he’d been targeting. Another rifle fired behind me, answered by cannon blast from below.
Grabbing Abella, I hauled her to her feet, pulling her along beside me. “Load the firearms for them!” I yelled at her over the din, pointing to the men who were trying to get shots off on the men on shore.
Not needing any prodding, she picked up the nearest rifle and set to work, flinching as a small round returned from the nearby shore.
Glancing over the edge, I tried to count how many cannons were lined up on the beach. There weren’t many, thankfully. Beside me, one of our snipers fired, missing his target by a long shot. Swearing, he reached back for another weapon, grabbing it from Abella and aiming again. Even though his shot should have hit where it was supposed to, he still missed; the guns weren’t accurate like they would be in the future. Short of standing right in front of your target, there was no way you could guarantee what you were aiming at would be hit.
“We need people on the beach,” I said suddenly, drawing the shooters and Abella’s attention. “We need people on the beach!” I repeated, motioning to the eight cannons spaced across the sand.
Another mortar fired from below us, hitting the side of the enemy ship with a resounding crack. The hole it left behind was enough to give hope to anyone—we hadn’t lost this battle yet.
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga Book 2) Page 29