A Woman Made for Sin (23 page)

October 24, 1816

Collins paused to look at the angry seas. The foul weather had finally caught up with
them and the storm was going to make things very tense on the ship for the next several
hours. The only person in their cabin and not working was Lady Aimee. Collins prayed
she had believed him when he told her that she was not—under any circumstances—to
leave her cabin. The men needed no distractions.

Aimee had nodded before calmly sitting down, but then that was how she responded to
all of his instructions. The ship had already started rocking fiercely, but Aimee
just sat there as if she was unaware of the storm and the nausea it should be creating.
The damn woman did not even know when to get seasick.

He glanced across the upper deck, waiting for the captain to give him the signal that
it was time to move the sails to the storm configuration. Just before the first gust
hit, Collins had been in the captain’s quarters, trying for the third time in the
last forty-eight hours to tell the captain about Aimee’s presence on board. But before
he could, the storm had made its presence known. Immediately, Reece had gone topside
to take over the wheel and Collins had gone to make sure Aimee was not just safe,
but safely out of the way.

Another wave slammed into the side of the boat. Collins gripped the rail and watched
the water recede across the deck and back into the ocean. The winds were growing in
strength. The storm mimicked his mood, and both were growing worse by the minute.

“Collins!” Reece shouted, barely loud enough to be heard. He pointed to the sails
and mouthed the words “heave to.”

Collins nodded in understanding and gestured to Kyrk, who also had been waiting for
the captain to give the signal to climb the rigging. It was time to change the sails
and reduce the amount of canvas that caught the wind. It was important to leave just
enough sail via the staysail and both fore and main topsails to minimize forward drift
and the resulting strain on the vessel.

This balance between the force of the wind in the sails and the drag of the underwater
keel was key to keeping a ship afloat. If the balance shifted and the ship turned
its edge to the wind, it would be beaten by breaking waves. As an experienced rigger,
Kyrk knew exactly what needed to be done. He and the Poulsen brothers had already
taken down the jibs and were working on the foremast to get down the two highest sails—the
royal and topgallant.

Once done, all three men quickly descended back to the deck and got ready to do it
again. Shiv made his way back to the spanker while Lamont and Kyrk headed to the mainmast
where Jolly George was untying the ropes to the main sails. Just then an enormous
rogue wave crashed over the ship’s starboard side. When the water slammed into them,
they instinctively tried to grab ahold of anything nearby, but their efforts were
futile.

The last thing Collins saw before grabbing ahold of the companionway rail to anchor
himself during the deluge, was the three men being swept away. When the water cleared
and he was able to regain his vision, Collins scanned the deck. Near the capstan,
an immobile heap of men’s legs and arms caught his attention. The large, rotating
machine was used to apply force to tighten ropes or pull up an anchor. To be thrown
against one was never good.

Collins let go of the rail and made his way over to the scene. Both Poulsen brothers
and Jolly George were injured but moving. Fortunately for Kyrk, he was unconscious
because his right leg was seriously broken. Collins quickly ordered Turrell, Gilley,
and Blackie to help him carry the men off the deck. JP joined him below. They did
what they could for Kyrk’s leg and then Collins headed up the stairs to the upper
deck, knowing the captain would be impatient for a report.

“How bad is it?” Reece barked against the wind.

“They’ll live. Jolly George is banged up. Shiv’s hand is broken, and based on Lamont’s
inability to breathe without severe pain, his ribs are busted.”

“And Kyrk?”

Collins swallowed. He knew that the captain already suspected the worst. “His leg
is bad. It’ll be weeks before he can walk again, let alone climb a mast.”

“Damn,” Reece muttered as he fought the wind trying to wrestle the wheel from his
grasp. “Storm’s getting worse and soon the last of the sun will be gone. We
have
to get those sails down.”

“It’s been years, but I can climb.”

“Can’t do it by yourself,” Reece yelled, loud enough that his frustration was unmistakable.
“Find me someone—
anyone
—who can climb the mast without breaking it and help you.”

Collins returned Reece’s stare. The
Sea Emerald
was not shorthanded, but it had a crew of just over thirty. They both knew that in
that one wave, they lost their best chance at getting those sails down. In this weather,
the weight of two large men on the mast would most likely snap it, leaving the ship
even more vulnerable than it already was.

The boat listed severely and it was as if the sea and the captain were at war. Reece
was using all of his strength and knowledge to keep the vessel pointed in the desired
direction. But if those sails did not come down, he was going to lose the fight .
. . and soon.

All Collins needed was someone who could help free the ropes along the halyard so
the men on the deck could help furl the sail and keep it that way until Collins had
enough time to tie off each sail. They did not have to be skilled in ships or sails,
or even very strong. They just needed to be able to climb and help free knots. Only
one person on this ship met all the requirements.

Could he ask a woman—a daughter of a marquess—to climb a mast in the middle of a serious
storm? It was unthinkable, and yet Collins knew that was exactly what he was going
to do.

The ship rolled and Aimee fell back against the wall that protected her from the sea.
It was wet and leaking water, making Aimee wonder just how close the ship’s side was
to being in the water. Every instinct she had was to leave the room that felt more
and more like a coffin and go topside. But she remained where she was.

Previously when Collins had threatened her about staying in her room, Aimee had known
it was a tactic to get her to comply. But earlier that afternoon, he had meant what
he said about her distracting the crew and how every man needed their full attention
on their job to keep the ship afloat.

“Be careful of his knee!”

“Get JP!”

“It bloody hurts to breathe.”

“Tie off that part of his leg . . .”

Aimee scrambled off the bed and unlatched the door to steal a look at what was going
on in the hallway. It was hard to see and everyone was still shouting, but when Kyrk
came into view, she nearly gasped aloud. His right leg was broken and a bone was protruding
just below his knee. Her mind started to race. Had that happened when Kyrk was climbing?
Were the sails still up or had he gotten them down in time?

The boat lurched and Aimee suspected that the injuries had occurred before all the
sails had been taken down. She whirled around and went over to the small chest and
pulled out the men’s clothes she had been wearing when she tricked Gus and Petey into
abducting her. Collins had told her not to leave, but he had said nothing about changing
her clothes.

Quickly, she removed her dress and donned the shirt and breeches. She had just finished
when she heard a knock on the door. Aimee went to open it, unsurprised to find Collins
on the other side. He eyed her attire, his expression both surprised and relieved.

Aimee stepped out of the way to allow Collins entrance, but he declined. “I saw Kyrk
being carried . . . his leg was bad. Will he live?”

Collins nodded, but Aimee knew from his brief glance down the corridor to the room
where they’d carried Kyrk, that nothing was for certain. “None of us are going to
live through this if we don’t get the mainsails down.”

Aimee’s green eyes held Collins’s blue ones. “I can do it.”

Collins’s jaw visibly tensed. “Do you know what you are agreeing to?” he asked. “Because
this storm just severely wounded three men. Chances are it is going to take you out
too.”

Aimee kept her features deceptively composed. Collins was not trying to scare her
into compliance, he was speaking the truth. Going out in this storm could mean death.
But she also knew that it had to be done and the only reason Collins would be coming
to see her was that he had little choice. “Just tell me what to do,” she said as calmly
as she could muster and moved into the corridor.

Collins pivoted and headed to the stairs that led to the main deck. Aimee followed,
and as soon as she was out in the open her heart started to race. The wind was vicious
and never had the main deck look so wide and dangerous. Lightning flashed and it lit
up the scene just long enough for her to clearly see exactly what they were up against.
The sails that remained unfurled billowed in the wind. Only the topsail was open on
the foremast, but all four of the large sails on the mainmast were unfurled, becoming
dangerous weapons. She did not need Collins to point out that that was where he needed
her to climb.

Aimee nodded and followed Collins as they made their way to the mast and began to
climb. Reaching the first square sail, she walked out onto the footropes under the
first yard. Her fingers were cold as the ocean spray and wind beat at them, but she
quickly released the knots, enabling Collins to furl the mainsail. Ignoring the tingling
in her extremities, she headed back up the rigging until she reached the top, a small
platform at the joint of the lower- and topmast. Following Collins’s lead, she pulled
herself across the ratlines that together with the shrouds formed a ropelike net.
Each took one pair of backstays and together began to furl the topgallant sail. Relief
flooded her when it freed and they moved on to the royal sail.

Once the last sail was collapsed, she waited until Collins, who was already on the
mast, made his way down. Then she began her own descent. Never did she want to do
this again. Climbing was not something she ever thought could be terrifying, but neither
had she ever dreamed of doing it in a storm where the item she was climbing was constantly
trying to throw her off. But it was not even the rolling boat or the wind that truly
terrified her, it was the cold.

Aimee could hear shouts from below her, but the rain prevented her from seeing who
it was or hearing what they were saying. All she knew was her fingers were so frozen,
they barely responded to her demands to curl and hold on as she made her way down
the mast. Her teeth could no longer chatter because her jaw and cheeks were unable
to move. Only sheer will enabled her to take another step when she did not think she
could.

She looked down. Her eyes grew large and then blackness consumed her.

Reece stood braced with both feet wide apart, to keep control of the wheel. A surge
of relief went through him as he saw Collins and another man make their way up the
mainmast. Collins was easy to make out despite the rain. Each time the lightning lit
up the clouds, he could see that his chief mate’s large body was not made for such
work. Reece knew Collins hated rigging work, but every officer knew and could pretty
much perform any role on the ship, whether they liked it or not. But furling sails
was a two-man job, especially in this weather. Collins could climb up, but another,
much lighter man had to make his way out onto the yard—the arm of the mast. And Reece
was not certain who Collins had found not just willing, but capable of climbing like
the lean figure making its way across the yard.

For a second, he thought it might be Carr, the bosun, but he was yelling out orders
on the deck. The few others he might have guessed it to be were also working hard
at the ropes, trying to keep the topsails up and in place. Reece was about to put
it out of his mind when he realized that he was not the only one watching the thin
figure work the ropes on the sails to get them free. JP—who never came on deck during
a storm—was there, just past the companionway, staring into the dark sky. His body
was tense as if seized with fear.

Reece looked around. JP was not alone. Practically his whole crew was watching the
two people up on the rigging. It made sense in a way—if the sails did not come down,
the ship was in real danger of not making it through the storm—but this was not the
first storm this crew had seen, and Reece could not recollect any other time the men
cared so much about those climbing the rigging. Just who
had
Collins found?

Several bolts of lightning lit up the sky and the little more that Reece could make
out made his stomach churn. Surely Collins had not convinced the woman they had hidden
on board to climb the masts.

A wave came, then another, but both figures held on. They were above the crashing
walls of water, but each time one hit, the boat rocked, threatening to shake one of
them off. Reece did everything he could to keep the boat pointing toward the oncoming
waves. Only when he saw the final sail go down and the two figures start to descend
did he realize that he had been holding his breath.

The men were shouting something, but from the little Reece could make out, they were
smiling. Collins’s feet hit the deck and Reece knew his chief mate was glad to be
down. But instead of heading up to join him at the wheel, Collins pivoted and looked
up, shouting. Reece still could not make out the figure still in the rigging, but
he could see they were not holding on correctly. No longer were the men smiling. Shouts
were coming from the deck, and suddenly the bosun bounded up the companionway and
headed toward him.

“I’ll take the wheel, Cap’n. You gotta go below,” he bellowed.

Alarm shot through Reece. Collins had not come up but Carr had, which meant the situation
on the deck was even worse than he had been able to make out. Reece made sure that
the bosun had a firm grip on the wheel and then made his way to the stairs. He crossed
the deck where the shouts were even more frantic.