Authors: Kaye Dacus
Ned held up his hand. “No recitation is necessary.” How had this man gone from serving in the military to becoming a pirate in only two years? Unless his distinction was that of dishonor rather than honor. “While you will act as a lieutenant, you will not be given command of a watch.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“No, I do not. You serve at my pleasure. And should your manner of service displease me, I will have no qualms about carrying out the sentence to which all pirates are condemned. Do you understand?”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” The mocking tone remained in Declan’s voice, needling Ned almost to the point of breaking, but he had other issues to deal with at the moment. He crossed to the dining cabin door and called for his steward. “Pass word for Lieutenant Wallis.”
In moments the acting first officer arrived. “Show Mr. Declan to the wardroom. Wallis, you are to take Lieutenant Gardiner’s berth for now. Make sure Mr. Declan becomes acquainted with the behavior and decorum expected of every man who serves King George. If he does not comply, you have my permission to place him under arrest and bring him to me to carry out his sentence.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Though much thinner than Declan, Wallis stood only a few inches shorter than the tall pirate. He cocked his head to motion Declan to precede him through the door.
As soon as it closed behind them, Ned staggered to a corner of the cabin and sank into the upholstered armchair there, leaning his head back against the cushion and throwing his arm across his eyes. He’d lived three lifetimes since the sun rose. Twelve men dead, captured, or missing because of his folly. An alliance with a known enemy and a pirate serving as an officer aboard his ship. And a wife waiting in his sleeping cabin.
Even as he’d told Wallis to take Gardiner’s berth, Ned had seen the flaw in his plan to ensure his marriage to Charlotte could be annulled if her brother objected. With Declan quartered in the wardroom, that left no available space for Ned to sleep down there. Now, even though he did not intend to consummate the marriage, trying to get it annulled would be near impossible, simply because he would have to share quarters with her and no one would believe they slept apart.
A door creaked and soft footsteps shuffled across the floor. He lowered his arm, expecting to see his steward entering to help him prepare for sleeping. Instead, Charlotte stood by the table, fingering a carved pinecone finial atop the back of one of the chairs.
“I know you are not happy that I forced you into a decision aboard
Vengeance
.” Her voice came out just above a whisper. “I understand your feelings that we must stay apart until William gives his consent for our marriage, which I know he will do.” Charlotte’s volume increased a bit to add emphasis to her confident statement. “But I hope that you will not stay angry with me for too long. I would not be able to bear that.”
The vulnerability in her voice catapulted him from the chair. He pulled her into his arms, the panic of discovering she’d been taken still fresh in his memory. “How could I be angry with you? I love you.” He held her as tightly as he dared, fearing he might damage her yet wanting to keep her as close as possible. “I was so frightened”—he choked on the jumble of words and emotions trying to tumble from his throat—“so frightened that I would never see you again. That you would be…injured. That horrible things would happen to you.”
Charlotte raised her head and kissed his chin. “When I was first taken, I was convinced the pirates had done you grievous harm when you tried to protect me. All I could think about was that I needed to get back to you, to make certain you were still alive.”
Ned lowered his head and captured her lips with his, feeling, for the first time today, a spark of something other than soul-numbing fear and doubt. He raised his hands to cup Charlotte’s face and deepened the kiss.
A soft whimper brought him back to his senses. He pulled away and stepped back, trembling. “I do apologize if I offended your sensibilities.”
Charlotte reached for the back of the chair beside her, panting as if she’d overexerted herself. “Offended my…are you mad? Ned, we are married. Though I am a novice at this estate, I do believe it should offend
your
sensibilities if I took offense at that.”
He fought the urge to take her in his arms and continue his offense, taking another step away from her. “We agreed our marriage is to be in name only. There can be no more kissing—no, nor even thoughts of kissing. We must behave with decorum, as if we were still courting.”
Charlotte made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Courting? Decorum?”
“If you do not abide by these terms, I will put you ashore and send you back to Tierra Dulce.” He never would, of course, but he needed some measure of control, and threatening her with a consequence was the lifeline he clung to. He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. “We must come to an agreement.”
Charlotte sighed and sank into the nearest chair. “I thought we already had.”
“There will be no more kissing. Nor embraces.” He wasn’t certain on which of them that edict would be harder. “You may have the sleeping cabin. I will hang my hammock out here.”
“Where?”
How could he not have been clear? “In the great cabin.”
“I meant how will you hang your hammock in here? There are no hooks from which to hang it.” Charlotte swept her arm in a circle to encompass the room.
Ned looked around. “Tomorrow I will have the carpenter install the hooks. Tonight, I will sleep in the chair.”
“No. You need your rest. We do not know what tomorrow will bring. Your hammock is already hung in the sleeping cabin. Ned, I shared the cockpit with almost twenty men for more than a month. Do you think if we sleep in the same room, in separate beds for one night, it is going to do my reputation any more damage? Besides, what rumors will start among the crew if the carpenter knows we are not living as husband and wife?”
Ned rubbed the bridge of his nose. Had she baited him into introducing her to the entire crew as his wife with this end in mind? To ensure they shared sleeping quarters? “Fine. We will share the sleeping cabin.” He waved his hand toward it. “Go to bed. I need to speak with my steward as to your accommodation.”
Charlotte stood and stepped toward him as if for a goodnight kiss, but Ned held out a hand to stop her. “Goodnight, Mrs. Cochrane.”
The flickering candlelight reflected off the disappointment in her expression. “Goodnight, Captain Cochrane.”
As soon as she disappeared into the other room, he once again sank into the armchair. Beyond the stern windows, the moon hung low over the horizon, bathing the sea in its indifferent light. Miles away, in a rocky bay, men who trusted him lay dead under that silver surface. They would never have the opportunity to see their wives and sweethearts again. And on the same day Ned sent them to their needless deaths, he experienced what should have been the happiest event in his life.
He did not deserve to be happy. He did not deserve to be blessed with Charlotte as his wife, to hold her, to feel the embers of passion her kisses stoked. He did not deserve her love.
W
illiam scanned the dark waters with his spyglass. Miles farther south than where he should have found
Audacious
, fear gripped his innards that Ned had skirmished with Shaw and the ship had been damaged…or worse. He reminded himself that they could have passed each other in the dark. But the echo of the ships’ bells carried far distances over open water—and he’d set Ned’s course himself. If Ned had obeyed his orders, they should have come bow to bow hours ago.
To his left the sky began to lighten. Dawn would bring with it a better chance at finding Ned and reassurance that he would not be sacrificing Charlotte by going after Shaw to rescue Julia.
Activity in the forecastle drew William’s attention away from the horizon. A midshipman ran aft, skidding to a stop near William’s position on the quarterdeck. “Lieutenant Gibson’s compliments, sir. The forecastle lookout spotted something, sir.”
William barreled past the lad. He composed himself before speaking to the junior-most lieutenant. “Report.”
“Sir, the topman reported seeing masts over that ridge.”
William eyed the cliffs off the larboard bow. Their height blocked him from seeing anything from the deck. He tucked his spyglass under his belt and heaved himself onto the shroud. Halfway up he remembered it had been many years since he’d been in the practice of climbing the shrouds regularly. But he plucked up his reserve strength and made it to the platform at the mast top. He gathered up as much air in his burning lungs as he could when he gained his feet. “Where away?”
The sailor pointed just beyond the foremost peak of the ridge. William raised his glass. There, against the dusky sky, three upright beams. Masts or something built atop the cliff?
The three upright structures moved. Yes, indeed. Masts. But whose?
William descended the shroud as fast as he dared and then made his way astern to the wheelhouse. “What is our position, Mr. Ingleby?”
The sailing master held his lantern over the chart on his table. “Near Negril, sir.”
Negril. A town reported to be one of Shaw’s favorite haunts.
“Commodore Ransome, the other ship is setting sheets and braces.”
Whoever they were, they were preparing to sail. “Hold position here. Let us find who they are before engaging.” The last thing he wanted was to open fire on
Sister Elizabeth,
Shaw’s flagship, and have Julia injured during the battle.
The eastern horizon burned with light beyond the tops of the craggy cliffs before the unknown ship sailed out of the inlet beyond. With
Alexandra
’s sails fully furled, William prayed the still-dark sky behind them would provide a measure of camouflage and hide them from the view of the unknown ship.
Their position put them at such a distance away that William needed his largest telescope to make out the lettering on the back end of the frigate.
Sister Mary.
Shaw’s secondary vessel. Not the one carrying Julia.
“Loose sheets and set course to intercept.”
The officers relayed his commands and the crew of
Alexandra
leaped into action. Moments later she caught the wind and lurched forward.
William kept half of his attention on the smaller ship ahead and the rest split between the wheelhouse and the leadsman measuring the depth of the water below them.
“By the mark, twenty,” the leadsman called, indicating the sea’s depth to be twenty fathoms, more than one hundred feet. Comfortably deep for
Alexandra
’s twenty-two feet of draught, but that could change quickly this close to land.
“Commodore, she knows we’re following,” called Lieutenant Blakeley. “She’s loosed all sail.”
“Then I suggest we do the same, gentlemen. Clear for action and run out the guns.”
His lieutenants showed their agreement by going to their areas to relay the necessary command. With the topgallant canvas spread,
Alexandra
leaned into her course like a thoroughbred racing for the next fence in a steeplechase.
“By the mark, seventeen.”
William returned to the wheelhouse and leaned over the chart where the sailing master and his mates marked the ship’s position.
“Shallow shoals coming up quick, Commodore. Frigate has a shallower draught than we do.”
“I am aware of that, Master Ingleby.” William traced his finger around the deep water at the edge of the shoals. Though
Alexandra
currently gained on the frigate,
Sister Mary
could put an insurmountable distance between them if she entered the shoals.
William returned to the quarterdeck. “Lieutenant Campbell, are we in firing range?”
“No, sir. A while longer yet.”
A while longer and
Alexandra
faced running aground. William’s body vibrated with anxiety, making it almost impossible for him to stay in one position.
The sun had risen several degrees above the horizon before Campbell called, “In range, sir!”
“By the mark, eight.”
William turned to face the wheelhouse. “Hard to starboard.” He spun around to face the left side of the ship as
Alexandra
careened to the right, angling her larboard armament toward the pirate vessel’s stern.
“Fire as you bear!”
With
Sister Mary
’s back to
Alexandra,
William had the advantage. The two long-nines mounted on the lead ship’s back end could do little damage to
Alexandra
’s thick hull.
Alexandra
shuddered with the recoil of dozens of thirty-two pound cannons firing together.
Sister Mary
heeled as it too turned to starboard. Smoke billowed from the aft section where many of
Alexandra
’s cannon had struck, but rather than running for open water, with the advantage of a faster ship and a slight lead on
Alexandra,
the pirate ship turned completely about, coming back toward them, all the guns on its single gun deck run out and ready.
“Starboard battery, fire as you bear. Take cover!” William ducked behind the gunwale bulwark as grapeshot showered the quarterdeck. Below his feet,
Alexandra
rumbled with the firing of her cannons. He ventured a look over the side. Cannonballs from
Alexandra
’s much larger cannons pounded into
Sister Mary
’s hull.