“Very well. We’ll go by the sound. You’ll need an extra set of eyes to keep clear of the rocks.” Her father got up.
“I can help,” she said. The three men looked at her as if they saw her for the first time.
“The weather will not hold,” she said her arms folded across her chest.
“More reason for you to stay here where you’ll be safe and dry,” her father said. Without another word, he, Richards, and Wesley left, closing the door behind them.
The idea that she was the reason they were taking such a dangerous chance crushed her. Helpless, she needed to do something, anything.
“As above, so below. As within, so without. Keep us safe in every way. So that we may live another day. So mote it be.” She repeated the chant over and over, convincing herself it would help.
The wind battered the ship, the sound a single note without change. The rain came down sideways in sheets and pounded on the wooden ship in a quick rhythmic beat. Above, the sounds of muffled voices and shouted orders reached her ears.
The Sea Diamond lurched as rocks scraped the side, making the boards squeal and vibrate, but they kept moving forward.
“Maiden Island ahead.” It was Richards’ voice. She looked out the small window, but couldn’t make out anything in the dark.
If they were passing the island, they had a short sail up the Firth of Lorn then into the safety of Dundhragon Bay and the castle dock.
Wind slammed into the ship, slowing it down. They must have come around the point. The already choppy water turned into angry waves as they moved from the safety of the sound into the firth.
The Sea Diamond jolted to the side, it rose on the swell then crashed down, jarring her bones. The map slid off the desk. Her satchel skidded across the floor. Nearly knocked off her feet, she grabbed on to the bedpost.
“You did well navigating us through the sound with the sails down in this darkness. The weather is worse than I expected,” Maxwell said to Wesley. Maxwell looked up as if he could see the end of the rain and wind. “Maiden Island is up ahead. Soon we’ll sit by a fire, warm and dry.”
“Kerrera protected us from the effect of the storm. But get ready. We’ll feel the full force once we come out of the sound into the firth,” Wesley said.
It was dark as pitch, but he made out the motion of the water as they plowed through the waves. He didn’t have much warning. A swell lifted the ship and took it sidelong, sending everyone on deck scrambling.
“Run downwind,” Wesley shouted to Richards. “Have the men heave the heavy lines off the stern. It will slow us down.”
“Is that wise with a bare pole?” Maxwell asked, looking at the empty mast.
“We can’t fight the sea or the wind. They predict the action we need to take, like a woman.” Richards smiled at both men.
“You take the tiller. Maxwell and I will help the men get the lines out,” Richards said.
There was no sense telling these men what they already knew. If the ship went too fast and came down on a large swell that buried the bow in the back of the wave that loomed in front of them, they could capsize.
Everything depended on speed. He had to slow down the ship and keep the stern perpendicular to the waves.
With the heavy lines dragging behind them, they still sped through the water. In this wind, they would be at the castle inlet quicker than he thought. Now past Maiden Island, he looked larboard. There was no sign of the Black Opal. He hoped Fynn had better sense than Maxwell and was in front of a warm fire drinking his whiskey.
An acrid odor made his nostrils flare seconds before a streak of white-hot silver split the sky. For a moment, everything on the ship’s deck was visible. Richards and Maxwell stood at the stern. The men tightened the ropes on the cargo. A low rumble of thunder rolled over the ship.
Another bolt was followed by more thunder. The flash caught Maxwell going to his cabin and Richards coming forward as torrents of rain began to fall. Flash after flash lit the sky. Boom after boom filled the air.
A bright burst broke the stillness. The bolt hit the rocks on the shore and sent them flying. For the briefest of moments in the violent illumination, he wiped the rain out of his eyes and strained to focus them. Two dozen men crawled over the Sea Diamond’s side.
Richards was as startled as he, but the surprise was only momentary. The captain and the crew took up their weapons. Outnumbered, the crew fought long and hard, but they were quickly captured. The pirate captain ordered the men stuffed into the small cargo area in the forecastle.
Wesley wrapped a rope around the tiller. As he tightened it, the stick snapped off in his hand. He looked at it in disbelief. What would he do now?
Chapter Twelve
“Stay here and don’t come out.” Darla watched in surprise as her father pulled on the bookcase and swung it open. “No one but me knows about this room, not even Richards. Should anyone come in, hide among the sails. Do you understand? I will come for you.” She was too startled by his words to stay anything. All she could do was nod.
“Here, take this.” He thrusted the jeweled knife at her. “You won’t need it but it’s best you have it.” His meaning was clear.
She moved into the small room. Scraping sounds reached her ears as the ship shuddered, but kept moving. Everything in the room shifted. Crates and chests slid toward her. She grabbed the line that swung toward her before it could do any damage. Three small windows near the ceiling let in some light.
“Here is the latch should you need to get out.” He took her hand and ran it over the mechanism.
“Go. Richards needs you on deck,” she said. They stood looking at each other for a heartbeat. “I’ll be all right. So will you.”
He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. “My precious jewel,” he whispered.
She nudged him away. “Go.”
He gave her a curt nod and moved the bookcase back into place. Her breath caught at the stark finality when the catch engaged.
She tucked the knife into her skirt, stepped back between two stacks of sails and gave her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Slowly the shapes around her emerged. Muffled shouts from the deck reached her ears over the wind and rain that pelted the ship.
Her breathing slowed. A slight shimmer in the darkness held her attention. The room was saturated with familiarity. Still holding the rope, she made her way to the hull. Yes, she’d been here before, in her vision.
The hull strained and shuddered as the ship scraped against the rocks. Small geysers sprayed through cracks in the hull and came in through the windows. With no place to drain off, the water pooled on the floor and soon began to rise up her legs. She moved about trying to find a dry place to stand, but water was everywhere. She couldn’t stay here.
The ship moved quickly through the water. A long piercing scrapes echoed through the room. Waves pounded against the hull, but the Sea Diamond moved on. No longer did she hear the men shouting, only the wind, the rain, and … she strained her ears. Crashing surf. Her head snapped up. The ship was too close to the rocky shore.
Stumbling to where she entered, she ran her fingers around the frame searching for the latch. Nothing. The water was rising faster. It was above her thighs. She tamped down the building panic. Stay calm. Again she ran her hand over the wood. Her fingers landed on the metal mechanism and she let out a sigh of relief.
She pulled the latch and pushed, but nothing happened. A quick glance confirmed the latch was open. She put her shoulder against the back of the bookcase and pushed. It gave a little, but not enough to be meaningful. Something had to be stopping it on the other side.
The Sea Diamond lurched forward, knocking her off her feet. She fell beneath the water and came up gasping for air, fumbling for her pouch.
“As above, so below. As within, so without. Give me strength to swim away. To see the light of another day. So mote it be.” The sounds of the straining ship held her in a silent panic. She had no idea what to do.
The ship pitched forward and sent crates stacked against the wall tumbling to the floor sending up sprays of water. The ship didn’t stop. The creaking and scraping increased while the relentless waves battered the vessel. She grabbed onto the rope for dear life trying to keep her footing.
The chest next to her slid across the room and rammed into the bookcase splitting the barrier. Water poured through the fissure. The ship shifted to the other side sending the box straight at her. She jumped out of the way and saw the line dangling from the pulley above.
Without hesitating, she tied the line from the pulley to the rope binding on the chest. She glanced at the pulley. It had to hold. Darla grabbed the loose end of the rope and pulled hard, raising the chest off the floor. She leaned against the hull and kicked the chest sending it swinging toward the bookcase. It didn’t reach. The water rose faster. If she didn’t break through the door soon—she didn’t want to think of the consequences.
She let out more line, tried again, and this time kicked harder. As the chest moved through the air, the ship rolled sending her against the hull before the Sea Diamond skidded and came to a stop. The trunk was still in motion gathering momentum. She held onto the rope and watched as the chest swung past her and crashed through the hull. Reduced to splinters, all that was left was the top of the chest and a tangle of ropes.
Seawater cascaded into the room, the pressure so great, large pieces of wood around the hole snapped off.
They were by the castle. She knew these waters well. She needed to conserve her energy. No use trying to swim against the current. Once the room filled with water she would swim out. As the room filled she floated to the top, taking deep breaths, expanding her lungs, trying to stay calm.
With her mouth almost kissing the ceiling, she took in the last bit of air before the room was totally submerged. The current from the incoming water subsided. She swam toward the hole but was pulled back.
She tugged on her skirt. It wouldn’t come loose. Her hand quickly ran down the material. Her garment was caught on a crate. There was no way she could free it.
The Sea Diamond was headed for shore. With any luck, the wind would take the ship past the rocks and bring it to the sandy beach. There was nothing he could do. He threw the tiller on the deck and rushed down from the helm. He had to reach Maxwell and Darla. He opened the door to Maxwell’s cabin, startled to find him pulling on the bookcase.
He searched the room for Darla. She was nowhere to be seen. The room looked odd. The furniture stood in place as if by a magic spell even though the room was at a precarious angle. Rolls of parchment floated about. The ivory elephants, scattered on the floor, stared at him from beneath the water. The battle-axe was wedged under the desk.
“Come away,” he pulled on Maxwell’s arm.
“Leave me. There’s still time for you to save yourself.” Maxwell pushed Wesley away.
The man was crazy. He’d drown if he stayed here.
The ship lurched forward. Thrown off balance, Maxwell was slammed hard against the wall hitting his head. Wesley caught him before he slipped under the water.
Fynn and three of his men barged through the door. “That’s a pretty picture.”
Wesley’s mind raced. Where was Darla?
“We’ll take him,” Fynn said and motioned to his men. “We’ll lash him to a grate. He needs to survive so we can present the thief to Ewan.”
Wesley reached over and took a ring of keys out of Maxwell’s pocket. “I’ll meet you at the grotto by the castle.”
“Don’t stay long. The Sea Diamond is taking on water. She’s going under. I don’t know how much longer you have.” Fynn motioned to the water racing into the room from the passageway.
“You go. I have one more thing to do.” He slipped the keys into his pouch.
“Don’t stay long.” Fynn turned and waded out of the room with Maxwell.
The ship shifted again sending Wesley scrambling to keep his footing. The water, up to his waist, was filling the cabin quickly.
Where was Darla? He turned to search the storage rooms next to the cabin, but stopped, his hands on the door jamb. Why would Maxwell be pulling on the bookcase when the ship was sinking? He hurried to the cabinet and ran his hands over the edges. There had to be a room on the other side.
His fingers brushed against the open latch. He pulled. The wall gave a little then refused to move. Was there another latch? He ran his hands along the sides of the frame. Nothing.
“Darla? Answer me,” he shouted his lips against the wood. How much longer could she stay in there? How much air did she have? He ducked under the water and ran his hand along the floor and found something wedged on the bottom of the bookcase. He came up for air holding the MacDougall tartan. He pulled it free and threw it to the side.
The bookcase opened, and the surge of water rushing from the room knocked him back against the bulkhead behind him. He struggled through the rush of water to reach her, sure she was there.
Water filled the cabin and the room. He swam pushing debris out of his way. Behind a crate he found Darla using the jeweled knife to cut herself free of her skirt. His anxiety melted away, replaced with an urgency to get her to the surface.
He swam to her side, took the knife from her and cut off her belt and skirt. Free of constraints, she pointed to the gaping hole and they both swam for it. Once outside the ship, they didn’t stop.
Wesley glanced back. The ship lay caught on the edge of a submerged cliff. If it rolled off, the draft it created would pull them down without any hope of surviving. They had to move away. They swam for the surface, for their lives.
When he thought there was no air left in his lungs, when every instinct told him to breathe, his head popped through the surface, Darla by his side.
“Darla?” All his concern was in one word.
“I’m all right.” She coughed and gasped taking in air.
He turned in all directions to get his bearing. The distant lightning lit the area. A wave of relief swept over him. They weren’t far from the rocky spur that reached out into the water and the shore beyond.
“This way,” he shouted and set a steady pace.
Chapter Thirteen
Soaked and exhausted, Wesley helped Darla along the rocky spur to the beach with others from the ship as the rain continued to pummel them. Flashes of lightning lit the misshaped dark shadows for several heartbeats and disclosed broken pottery, pieces of crates, and other debris bobbing in the water and strewn across the beach.
“On the cliff. The grotto. Shelter,” he shouted over the wind and rain.
Another lightning flash exposed Darla standing in front of him. He forgot about the wind, the rain, the Sea Diamond, and his vendetta. He saw her clothed in her wet chemise, baring every detail of her curves. He couldn’t let her to climb the rocks like this. He searched the area near him. Underneath one of the crates was a large piece of sail. He pulled and draped it around her. She accepted it without question.
Salty brine stained their lips and filled the air. Wave after wave pounded on the rocky shore sending sprays of water high into the air. The receding water exposed more men grasping onto the rocks for their lives. Some, too exhausted to move, stayed where they were. Others pulled themselves up the rocky shore and struggled to safety.
“Wesley, here.” He turned and found her at the rocks trying to help one of Ewan’s soldiers.
He rushed to her side grabbing the man under his arms and heaving him on his shoulder.
“Can you get up the cliff without help? I’m needed here.” They staggered past the waterline and he set the soldier down.
“Is there something I can do?” He heard no panic in her voice.
“Go to the grotto. Your father should be there.” He had no idea if he was right, but he didn’t want her to find him dead lashed to a grate on the beach. A flare in the direction of the cavern caught his attention. Someone started a fire. At least she’d be warm.
He moved toward the men, some clinging
to lines from the broken ship, other flailing in the water, but Darla grabbed his arm.
“How can I thank you?”
She stood there wet, disheveled, wrapped in a sail with a strength and beauty he admired.
“You’d do the same for me. Go to your father.”
Wesley watched while she made her way over the rocks and boulders. Her silhouette against the fire assured him she arrived safely.
He had work to do. He didn’t plan to leave the beach until every man was safe. He lent his muscle and pulled men out of the water. He mustered them into small groups and directed them up the slope.
The rain and wind had let up but this was only a temporary lull in the storm. The very air tasted of another onslaught of wind and rain.
With the last of the men off to safety, he made a final search of the area looking for anything to salvage. Amongst a waterlogged heap of wood and seaweed, he picked up the broken tiller. If the tiller had held, they would have avoided the rocks, without it they were doomed. With all the strength he had left, he heaved the offensive wood into the water.
“Where’s Darla?”
Wesley swung around, barely able to grab an unsteady Maxwell before the man collapsed in his arms.
“How did you get here?” Wesley asked.
“I woke lashed to a grate, aground on the beach, and worked myself free.” Maxwell grabbed Wesley. “Where’s Darla? I locked her in the storage closet thinking I saved her from the pirates. I’ve looked for her everywhere. She isn’t dead. I must find her. I must.”
Maxwell struggled to get out of his hands.
He stared into the face of a distraught and battered man. How he kept going was beyond him. The wind picked up again. Lightning flashes lit up the sky behind the clouds, and the muffled rumble of thunder vibrated through the air.
“She’s safe at the grotto, looking for you. Come, we’ll go together.”
The Pirate’s Jewel Page 13