Rogue of the High Seas (25 page)

“Do not worry,
Monsieur
Haji,” Richard replied. “She has the
mal-de-mer.”

Shauna had never been seasick in her life, but this must be the captain Nasim mentioned. “I have been locked in the cabin below for days, Captain,” she said. “Please allow me some time on deck and some food besides swill.”

“Do not speak…” Richard began but Captain Haji raised his hand to silence him.

“All you have had to eat is swill?” the captain asked Shauna.

“Yes, sir.”

Haji narrowed his eyes as he looked back to Richard. “I never gave orders to restrict her food. Look at how thin she is. Plump ones sell better.” He motioned to Nasim standing nearby. “Bring this woman whatever she wants to eat from now on. Do you understand?”

The big man's face broke into a smile as he nodded. “Lots of food.”

The captain turned abruptly on his heel and walked away. Shauna straightened, the nausea beginning to dissipate.

“You do not need to look so smug,” Richard snarled from beside her. “You still will not be coming back.”

Shauna took a deep breath of sea air. “Why are you doing this? Or more precisely, why did your father arrange this? I have not done anything to Mr. Adler. I thought he was a nice elderly gentleman.”

Richard laughed. “I am sure he would be flattered that his disguise worked, but Mr. Adler is not his name.”

“Why would he use a disguise and not his real name?”

“Obviously, so you would not recognize him.”

Shauna frowned. “Who is he then?”

A smirk appeared on his face. “Does the name Wesley Alton mean anything to you?”

Shauna gripped the rail again as she felt the blood drain from her face. She knew all too well who Wesley Alton was…and she knew what he was capable of.

The world began to swirl around her in shades of grey that slowly became black.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Seventy-two hours at sea had never seemed so long, not even when Robert was out of sight of land. They had been able to see most of the coastline of Scotland as they sailed south, but even watching the scenery change didn't give him a sense of accomplishment. How far ahead was the
Dragon
?

Robert braced himself against the rim of the crow's nest near the top of the mast and used his scope to check for ships ahead. They were still miles from entering the Channel, and he doubted the Fates would be so kind as to disable the
Dragon
somehow, but he wanted to be sure not to miss anything. He wished he had the time to put into port at London and again at Calais to let Shauna's brothers know what Mr. James had said, but he did not dare waste the time. Every minute counted—literally—if he were to catch up with the brig. Besides, there was always the chance the old man had misunderstood or that Alton had changed his mind.

Seeing Peter below, Robert climbed down the mast and handed the scope to him. “Thanks for taking the next watch.”

“Aye. The lads may be coming together, but I doona care to see one of them pitch-poling through the air from the nest like some great, wingless bird. A bit more balance is needed up there than on the deck.”

An understatement if he'd ever heard one. Robert smiled, which was the closest he'd come to good humor since they'd left Edinburgh. Every sailing vessel rolled because of the hull design, but the higher up the mast a man went, the greater the sway from one side to the other. When he'd first learned how to sail as a child, his father had tied him to the mast so he wouldn't fall out of the basket. When he'd yelled down he felt queasy, his father had shouted back that it was a good way to learn not to be seasick.

Robert looked at his new crew. Probably because of their experience handling lines on the dock, they'd grasped the working of the sails' sheets fairly easily. The fact that the Scottish sailors had been badgered for their clumsiness by Hans and Igor, the German and Russian seamen lent to him, might have had something to do with their quick learning as well.

“You're right. I haven't seen a man slip or slide for a whole twenty-four hours.”

Peter grinned. “I told them I'd spread it through every pub in Edinburgh if they kept falling like bairns.”

The first day out, Robert hadn't been certain the Scots wouldn't attack the foreigners outright for their constant ridicule, but Peter had pointed out to them they had national pride to prove. After that, they'd stopped grumbling and concentrated on sailing.

He'd assigned Hans and Igor to the helm, partly because he wanted to do the watch from the nest himself and partly to keep them occupied with making as much time as they could with the wind on the stern. Once they got inside the Channel, the wind would change directions, and Robert had told them he expected to sail close-hauled. They'd understood the challenge.

“I'll only be down below for an hour or so,” he told Peter.

The man shook his head. “Ye need to get more sleep than that. Standard watch is four hours, Captain.”

“I need to practice with the men who aren't on duty.” Yesterday, Robert had called a meeting on deck to explain to the entire crew who they were pursuing and why. When he'd said he'd need their help and wanted to arrange for practice fighting aboard a moving vessel, they'd roared their approval and dozens of daggers had appeared with lightning quickness. Not surprising since most men who worked the wharfs were armed and rarely backed down from any kind of fight, but Robert wanted to make sure they could hold their own on a ship. More than one had asked this morning when they could begin practice.

“They can wait four hours,” Peter said. “We've still got a good week out.”

A week. It sounded like an eternity.

Five days later, as Robert watched two of his crew circling each other, swords in hand and trying not to stumble, it seemed to him they weren't anywhere near ready to attempt a rescue. He had no doubt each crewman was a more than capable fighter, at least on land. A rolling, pitching ship was a different matter. Practice sessions of hand-to-hand combat often ended with both combatants scrambling on the deck like youngsters in a schoolyard. This session wasn't going much better. The swords were wrapped so they couldn't do too much damage to each other, but Robert doubted that many of his crew would be able to board the
Dragon
while underway and be successful.

And time they had left, which had seemed like an eternity a few days ago, was running out.

Once they'd reached the
Pointe de Penmarch,
favorable winds had put them on a beam reach and they'd sailed through the Bay of Biscay and around Cape Finisterre in record time. They'd passed Lisbon yesterday, and the brig had not yet been sighted.

“I hope we haven't missed her,” he said to Peter as the man came to stand beside him. “We didn't have time to put into every port.”

Peter folded his arms. “If what Mr. James heard is accurate, they wouldnae want to tarry along the way.”

“Which means they could already have made Gibraltar and Shauna could be on her way to—”

“If 'tis so, ye cannae change it. We will continue on.”

“And if the
Dragon
put into another port earlier? And we missed her?”

A corner of Peter's mouth turned up. “Then we should be watching our stern, for she'll be behind us.”

Robert appreciated the man's attempt at humor, but he couldn't bring himself to even smile. “Maybe the damn bastard arranged for land travel to Constantinople.”

“Pirates doona favor land, Captain.”

“True, but—”

“If ye donna mind my making a suggestion, it willnae do any good to fash on it. Better to have a plan or two firmly in mind. Why don't ye go study on it?” Peter gestured. “I'll watch these two attempt to hurt themselves.”

Robert knew the older man was right. Assuming they spotted the brig, they needed some kind of alternative to overtaking her at sea. It would not do anyone any good if their captain became addle brained because of worry either. He nodded. “I'll be in my cabin if you need me.”

Once below in the confines of his cabin, Robert forced himself to concentrate. Turning up the wick on his gimbaled lamp, he opened his duffel and took out Shane's chart of the European coastline. As he reached into his pocket for coins to flatten it on his table, his hand encountered the small stone that, amidst agonizing over Shauna's plight and the crew's ability to fight, he'd almost forgotten he carried. He unrolled the map and placed the stone in the middle. It lay there, its golden streak hardly visible.

Robert shook his head. What had he expected? The light to blaze out at him like a sea beacon on a foggy night? He'd spent most of this trip torturing himself for being superstitious and taking where the stone had stopped on the map back in Edinburgh as a symbol. When he'd left Leith, he had been so sure, but now…

Unable to stop himself, he picked up the stone and angled it to catch the glow from the lamp. The slash of yellow through its middle seemed to pulsate, and he blinked. His mind must be playing tricks on him, or maybe the flame had flickered in the lamp's glass chimney. Still, the stone seemed to be growing warm.

He stared at it. The child at Glenfinnan that had given it to him had looked identical to the one who'd sold him salmon in Edinburgh when salmon was more often found on the west coast of Scotland. But it couldn't be the same girl. How would she have travelled? Unless…

He closed his eyes. Maybe his brain had already become addled. Was he truly contemplating the Fae existed? Greek tales of the Fates who held human destiny in their hands corresponded to the stories of Norse Valkyries his father used to tell. Robert had never been sure if his father believed in them or not. And Robert half-believed Sirens lurked in the depths of the sea. He was a sailor, after all, and too many times seaworthy ships sank for no apparent reason. But faeries?

His eyes flew open. Had Fiona not insisted that faeries had helped her escape the Dublin asylum? And Kier had made no attempt to correct her. In fact, Kier had mentioned he'd not believed in the Fae either, until he'd met Fiona.

Robert looked back at the map. His worry had been that the
Dragon
had put into a port along the French or Spanish coast and they'd passed on by. If the stone held otherworldly power, maybe it would tell him. He began placing it on one major port after another. The stone lay quietly each time with no pulsing rays at all. Robert nudged it toward Cádiz, the port they were nearing. The stone's streak suddenly brightened.

Putting it back in his pocket, Robert raced back on deck. Peter turned to him. “Ye have a plan already?”

“No, but give me the scope.” He tucked it into his pants' band and climbed the ratlines to the nest, taking just enough time to brace himself before he scanned the waters. At first, all he saw was ocean. Then, just as he was about to lower the scope, he spotted a dark speck on the horizon. He was too far away to read the name, but the stone was practically burning a hole in his pocket, and this time, he would trust it.

“She's up ahead,” he called down. “I've got the
Dragon
in sight.”

The weather turned noticeably warmer as the
Dragon
sailed toward the Strait of Gibraltar. Shauna stood on the deck, flanked by two guards, and watched the rocky outcrops of the jutting hulk of Gibraltar grow larger. Probably in less than an hour, the boat would be docked. The crew grew more animated with each passing minute while the trepidation Shauna had felt the entire trip turned into cold dread that left her nearly immobile.

At least she wouldn't be transferred immediately to a pirate ship. Once she'd been allowed out of the cabin, Shauna had managed to overhear bits and pieces of conversation between Richard and the captain. Since Richard had to wait the extra two weeks in Edinburgh, the corsair supposed to take her to Constantinople had moved on to more lucrative trade. Captain Haji refused to continue on, saying pirating was more profitable right here, but he assured Richard there was a boarding house they could stay where the proprietor didn't ask questions and that another corsair could be found within twenty-four hours.

Which meant she had only a day to plan an escape.

Robert kept a firm hand on the helm and watched the brig up ahead. He had given orders for the
New Orleans
to stay a little less than a nautical mile behind the
Dragon
. He'd already decided trying to overtake and board the brig would be too risky. Nor did he want his ship to be recognized. Although he'd never met Alton or his bastard sons, the
New Orleans
had been clearly visible at the Edinburgh quay and he didn't want anyone on board the
Dragon
to make any kind of connection. He didn't want whoever was captaining the
Dragon
to get suspicious either. Pirates depended on their instinct to stay alive.

“We're going to need to start closing in, Captain,” Peter said as he joined him. “We're in the Strait.”

Robert nodded and adjusted his heading three degrees and gestured to one of the sailors to sheet in the main sail. Igor and Hans took the cue and started tightening the jibs causing the
New Orleans
to pick up speed.

“Ye are sure ye doona want to take them as soon as they dock?” Peter asked.

“Only if we have no alternative.” Robert had discussed strategy with Peter, Hans and Igor last night. They'd agreed they'd have the element of surprise if they blocked the
Dragon
as she was tying off, but a skirmish on board would put Shauna at considerable risk since she'd probably be used as a hostage. They'd debated at length, finally agreeing that only if a corsair already waited to whisk her away, would the
New Orleans
crew attack the brig outright. The plan they'd settled on was to sail past and berth the schooner nearby. Once the four of them were on land, they'd blend in with the dockworkers to study the situation. The sailors had been instructed to stay onboard, on ready alert to leave. The decision wasn't as definitive as Robert would have liked, but they had no way of knowing what the
Dragon's
captain's next move would be.

Robert surveyed his crew. They were handling the sails well. More importantly, he could see sheathed daggers hanging from belts and hilts protruding from boot tops. Swords and scabbards were piled in an empty barrel, ready to be donned as soon as the ship was secured. To a man, each and every one of them wanted to fight.

He turned over the helm to Peter and walked to the bow. Lifting his scope, he watched the
Dragon
approach the dock. He didn't see a corsair, and none of the other ships looked ready to sail. They'd stick to the original plan then.

He was about to lower the scope when sudden movement on the port side caught his eye. Two men seemed to be lifting something. Robert's breath caught when he saw long, brown hair and realized it was Shauna they were manhandling. They were blindfolding her and she was struggling. Robert clenched his jaw, itching to put his fists into their faces. The damn bastards could be hurting her. He turned and hurried back to the stern.

“Small change in plans,” he said to Peter.

“Aye?”

“Shauna is on deck. They're getting ready to remove her. We'll sail on by as planned, but I'm going to swim in so I can follow wherever they're taking her.”

Peter looked skeptical for a moment and then he nodded. “She is your woman.”

Robert grinned. “You have that right.” He walked to the starboard rail straddling it. “I'll rendezvous with you shortly,” he said and then slipped into the water.