Surrender the Dawn (31 page)

“I found this boy hiding in the master cabin.”

“Indeed?” Captain Raynor grinned and waved a hand through the air. “Shoot him.”

“No!” Luke charged toward John, his only thought to save him. In
a vision blurred by terror, he saw the sailor draw a pistol and hold it to John’s head.

Shouts and screams muffled in a mass of confusion in Luke’s ears. Something sharp pierced his neck. Pain shot into his head and through his shoulders. He froze. The tip of a lieutenant’s sword jabbed him below his chin. The man’s face bunched like a knot of gunpowder ready to explode. Luke knew he wouldn’t hesitate to run him through.

Behind him swords clanged and a moan sounded. Then silence.

“Hold,” the captain ordered. The sailor lifted the gun from John’s head. Captain Raynor sauntered toward Luke. “Now hear me and hear me good, Captain Heaton. You will order your men to stand down and relieve themselves of their weapons, or I
will
shoot the lad. Are we clear?”

From the look in his eyes, Luke had no doubt the man would do just that. He nodded, and the captain ordered the lieutenant to withdraw his sword from Luke.

Turning, Luke motioned for his crew to comply, noting that Mr. Keene pressed a hand over a bloody wound on his shoulder. With groans, the men tossed their weapons onto a pile. Clanks and clinks of metal sounded like the incessant hammering of nails into a coffin. Luke’s coffin.

“A noble effort.” Captain Raynor clasped his hands together as if pleased at the exciting interruption. “I would expect no less from a privateer, eh?”

Rubbing his neck, Luke raised his brows. “We are but an innocent merchant ship from Baltimore on our way to pick up spices and sugar from Jamaica.”

“Baltimore? That nest of pirates!” Captain Raynor grunted in disgust. “No, I think not, Captain. A privateer sailing under the same name captured one of our merchantmen off the Carolinas last month.”

“A mere coincidence.” Luke doubted the man would agree, especially when Mr. Keene chuckled.

“Ah, you have jesters on board.” The captain’s cutting eyes skewered Mr. Keene. “How nice. My men can use some diversion.”

“Sir, if you please.” Biron stepped forward. “We are but simple merchantmen. And we mean no harm to you or your country.”

“Balderdash!” Captain Raynor’s bark was as loud as a cannon’s. “You are Americans and privateers. And now, you are prisoners of war.”

“Blasted Brits,” young Sam spat under his breath.

One of the lieutenants flashed his sword toward Sam.

Nudging the boy aside, Luke held up a hand. “No need for that, Lieutenant.”

Captain Raynor cocked his head. “There is fight in you, Captain. I see it in your eyes.” His glance took in the men standing behind Luke. “And loyalty in your crew. I take it you are a good captain, though perhaps not a good sailor.”

The British sailors chuckled. Luke fisted his hands.

“I shall take you as a prize,” the captain continued as he glanced over the ship. “Though this tub is hardly worth the effort.” He gestured toward John. “Bring the lad here.”

The sailor pushed John, sending him tumbling to the deck. Luke charged him, raising his fist to put the man in his place. Shouts assailed him from behind. Clawlike hands gripped Luke’s shoulders and pulled him back.

“It’s all right, Luke.” John struggled to his feet and brushed off his shirt. The bravery in his eyes sent a wave of pride through Luke.

“Your son?” The captain’s eyes traveled between them. He put a finger on his chin. “No. Your brother, I believe.”

Luke struggled against the pinched grip of two British marines. “What does it matter?”

The captain turned and whispered something to a man behind him, sending him over the railing and back to the British frigate.

“It changes things a great deal.” Captain Raynor took up a pace across the deck. The sun gleamed off his brass buttons and set the gold-fringed epaulettes on his shoulders glimmering as they flapped in the breeze. “You see, I’m in need of fresh supplies. And you’re in a position to get them for me.”

“You’ll get nothing but bilge water from me.”

The captain smiled. “Ah, but I will. Because, you see, I will have this boy, this relation of yours.”

Luke’s heart stopped beating.

“We shall make an accord, you and I,” the captain continued, his voice laced with pompous humor. “You will bring me supplies every few weeks, and I’ll let the boy live. And when the war is over and we’ve won, you may have him back.”

John trembled but stood his ground.

Biron tugged on his neckerchief. “Kidnapping a boy is beyond all decency, sir. Even in time of war.”

“Ah, that is where you are wrong.” Captain Raynor grinned. “There are no dictums of decency in war.”

“He’s just a boy.” Ward charged forward. “Let him be.”

Mr. Keene tossed up his good arm to hold the gunner back.

Jerking free from the marines, Luke thrust himself in front of John. “Take me instead.”

Captain Raynor held up a hand to stop the advancing marines from grabbing Luke again. “Ah, but would your crew commit treason for you?” He scoured Luke with a gaze from head to toe. “I think not, sir. But I do sense you would do so for this lad.”

The deck teetered over a wave. John eased from behind Luke and stood by his side.

“I’m no thief.” Captain Raynor withdrew his hat and dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’ll pay you for the supplies. You’ll make money. Your crew will be happy. Your brother, or whoever he is, will live. And you’ll be helping to shorten the war.”

Luke’s mind reeled with the ultimatum he knew he must accept. “I am no traitor.”

“You already are, Captain. You and all the American rebels are traitors to England.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I will confiscate your ship as prize and all of you will join the British Navy.” Captain Raynor’s gaze landed on John. “At least those of you strong enough to serve. The rest? We have prisons where they can await the war’s end.”

The man returned from the frigate and handed the captain a scrap of foolscap. “Betraying your rebel country. Or slavery for all of you—including the lad. Which do you choose?”

Luke searched his mind for some way out. “Your scheme will not work. The people in Baltimore will grow suspicious.”

“You’ll think of some explanation, I have no doubt, Captain Heaton. Here are the coordinates.” He handed Luke the paper. “You’ll meet us here in two weeks with as much food, water, gunpowder, and shot as you can carry.”

“Then you’ll give me the boy?”

“We shall see.”

“How will I slip past the blockade?”

“Don’t you anchor in other ports?”

“If I am to meet you in a fortnight at this location, Baltimore is the closest port with enough supplies to meet your needs.” Not really. But, stationed at home, Luke could possibly elicit help to rescue John.

“Very well.” Captain Raynor shrugged. “Raise the following ensigns in this order. Red, blue, yellow, and green striped, then white. That will identify you to our fleet as a supplier. You won’t be harmed.” He glanced up at the sky as if bored. “If I see any other ship but yours approaching, I’ll kill the boy. If you do not show up within a day of our appointed time, I’ll kill the boy.” His eyes met Luke’s. “Is that understood?”

“You bedeviled mongrel,” one of Luke’s men whispered from behind. Thankfully, the captain didn’t seem to hear it.

Luke knelt before John and gripped his shoulders.

John swallowed. “Don’t do it, Luke. Don’t betray our country.” His voice faltered, but his expression was sincere. “If I die, I’ll go to heaven and be with Mother and Father. I’ll be all right.”

Amazed at the boy’s courage and faith, Luke shook his head. “I promised Mother I’d take care of you, and I will. Be strong for me.”

John nodded.

Luke leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“How touching.” The captain’s voice was sickly sweet. He waved a hand. “Take him away.”

A lieutenant grabbed John and shoved him toward the bulwarks. He disappeared over the side. Luke’s fingers twitched. He could grab the captain’s sword and thrust it into his depraved heart before anyone could stop him. But what would that do but get them all killed?

With a contemptuous snort, Raynor dipped his head. “Until we meet again, Captain Heaton. A pleasure doing business with you.” The British sailors laughed. Then turning, he marched across the deck and lowered himself over the side, his men following behind him. Luke started after him, but Biron and Mr. Keene held him back.

“Not now, Captain. We’ll figure out a way,” Biron said.

But Luke knew there was no way.

  CHAPTER 22  

L
uke stabbed a hand through his hair and yanked on the strands until his head hurt. Spinning around, he retraced his steps across his cabin. A cascade of foul words spilled from his mouth, joining the thud of his boots.

“We’ll get him back, Luke.” Biron’s voice held an anger Luke had never heard before.

“How?” Luke shot fiery eyes his way then scanned the line of men standing before his desk. Mr. Sanders twitched nervously and did not meet his gaze. Beside him, Sam kept repeating “Blasted British, blasted British” under his breath. Mr. Keene’s jaw knotted as he leaned against the bulkhead, and Mr. Ward perched on the barrel of the twelve-pounder guarding the foot of Luke’s bed, his meaty arms folded over his chest, and a look as if he could kill the devil himself storming across his face.

Destiny
rolled over a wave. Her timbers creaked and groaned as the lantern hanging from the deck head cast shifting shadows over the men, creating menacing specters over the painted canvas beneath their boots.

“We’ll think of something. We’ll put our heads together and think of something.” Biron’s voice pummeled Luke’s back as he continued his nervous trek. Swerving yet again, he retraced his steps and finally halted before his desk. He leaned on the oak top and gripped the edges until his fingers burned. How could this have happened? How could he have
failed so miserably? His promise to his mother—his promise to Mrs. Barnes—to protect John slapped him in the face.

“Rescue a boy from a British frigate?” His laugh came out bitter. “Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible with God,” Biron said.

Luke lifted a hand to his friend. “Not now, Biron. Not now.” If God existed, then He had allowed this to happen. And despite what Reverend Drummond had said, Luke could not see how anything but heartache and death could come of it.

Mr. Keene shook his head. “What I can’t understand is how the staysails got torn.”

“Or the iron got into our supply crates,” Mr. Ward growled.

Luke eyed his crew. What reason would any of them have to sabotage the ship? Even if they harbored some animosity toward him, why would they risk their own lives?

Mr. Sanders raised his oversized blue eyes to Luke. His nose twitched. “My apologies, Captain. I didn’t see the iron when you sent me below.”

“Not your fault.” Luke rubbed the scars on his right hand. “The perpetrators hid it well. I’m the captain. I should have gone below myself.” He should have done many things. The odor of whale oil and body sweat rose to join the stench of his own inadequacy.

“There was that new sailor you hired.” Mr. Keene lifted a jeweled finger in the air.

“Yes, Mr. Flanders,” Samuel shot out.

Dread sucked the breath from Luke’s lungs. “What new sailor?”

“The man who joined us when you sent us ahead to prepare the ship.” Mr. Keene’s brow furrowed.

“I sent no such man.”

Biron scratched his head. “You didn’t hire a Mr. Flanders?”

Luke shook his head, his mouth suddenly parched. He could use a drink. “Is he still on board?”

“I ain’t laid eyes on him since,” Mr. Ward spoke up.

“Ward, Sanders.” Luke gestured toward the two men. “Go search for him and report back to me at once.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” They sped off, ducking beneath the frame of the open cabin door.

The deck tilted, and the men braced their boots firmly to keep from stumbling. Wind sped past the stern windows in a sinister whistle.

“What did this man have access to, Mr. Keene?” Luke asked.