Surrender the Dawn (44 page)

Captain Raynor studied him. “Unless you have come to your senses and wish to throw your lot in with the victors of this war, I cannot see why you would make such an offer, sir.”

“I make it on the following conditions.” Luke tried to steady his voice, tried to drown out the urgency screaming in his head. “That you return my brother to me, and I give you my word I will quit privateering.”

Captain Raynor gave a scoff of surprise as if Luke had asked for a chest of gold. “Your word, sir?” This time the lieutenants as well as some of the crew standing nearby chuckled. “What is the word of an American worth?”

The frigate rose over a swell. Luke adjusted his footing, refusing to answer the man’s absurd question.

Captain Raynor grimaced and tipped his cocked hat against the rays of the rising sun. “Besides, what is to stop me from absconding with all of these supplies and keeping your brother as well?”

“Nothing but your honor, sir.” Luke hoped that Captain Raynor held his honor in high esteem, or at least his pride. For the captain certainly wouldn’t want to be seen breaking a gentleman’s oath in front of his entire crew.

Captain Raynor narrowed his eyes.

Hope began to stir within Luke. He was about to restate his terms when a familiar female voice sprang over the frigate’s bulwarks like a grappling hook.

“You are a traitor, Luke Heaton! A traitor and a cad. How dare you sell supplies to our enemies?”

Luke closed his eyes, wishing the voice away, hoping it came from his tortured conscience and not from the source that frightened him the most. Scuffling sounded from below on
Destiny’s
deck. Then Biron’s disbelieving groan confirmed Luke’s worst fears. Opening his eyes, he approached the railing and peered over the side. There, struggling in Biron’s and Mr. Keene’s grasp, stood Cassandra—in breeches and shirt, of all things—her auburn hair flailing in the breeze, and her eyes pointed at Luke like two loaded cannons.

Captain Raynor grinned. “Friend of yours, sir?”

Shock stiffened Luke, followed by terror. How did she get on board? Why was she dressed like a man? But there was no time to find out.

“Yes … No,” Luke mumbled, facing Raynor. “She’s the ship’s cook. Ignore her. She’s quite mad.” He leaned over the railing. “Mr. Keene, if you would escort Miss Channing below.”

The boatswain nodded and headed toward the companionway with Cassandra in tow when she tore from his grasp and shoved her way toward the rope ladder.

“Bring the woman up here. I’d like to meet her.” Captain Raynor’s words fired into Luke’s gut.

Luke waved a hand through the air. “She’s nobody, Captain, ignore her.” He cringed at his own pleading tone.

A tone not missed by the captain of the HMS
Audacious
—he grinned. “Yet she seems to be quite surprised at your nefarious activities, no?”

Luke saw Cassandra’s red hair pop above the bulwarks as she hoisted herself over the railing. She landed on the deck with a determined thump. Catcalls rang across the ship before the master’s mate silenced the men. Ignoring them, Cassandra approached Luke, her icy stare lancing him before she scanned the assembly of British officers, sailors, and marines crowding the deck.

Did the woman fear nothing?

Spotting the captain, she charged toward him. Two midshipmen grabbed her arms before she got too close.

“Is this man selling you goods, Captain?”

Luke’s throat closed. Heated wind slapped him in the face.

“Why, yes, madam, he is.” The captain seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Tearing free from the midshipmen’s grip, Cassandra marched toward Luke. Raising her fists, she pounded on his chest. He allowed her. He deserved it. Each blow caused his heart to shrink a bit more until he wondered if there was anything left.

The crew of the
Audacious,
however, found the scene much to their amusement, as laughter bounced through the air.

Finally, after her anger was spent, Cassandra bent over in a sob.

Luke grabbed her arms and drew her close, whispering in her ear. “This isn’t as it seems, Cassandra. Go back to the ship.” But she jerked from him, too disgusted to even meet his gaze.

“Very good. Very good.” Captain Raynor clapped his hands together as if applauding a performance. “And who, may I ask, are you, miss?”

Sweat slid down Luke’s back.
Do not tell him. Keep your mouth shut.
His gaze found John, still standing by the quarterdeck, and looking as frightened as Luke felt.

Drawing a breath, she lifted her shoulders and faced the captain. “I am Cassandra Channing from Baltimore.”

Luke shook his head. The ship groaned over a swell, mimicking his silent moan within.

“Ah,” the captain said. “And might I assume you weren’t aware of this man’s … activities?”

“You assume correctly, sir.” She grimaced and pointed a finger his way. “For I would have shot him myself rather than allowed him to trade with the likes of you.”

“Gentlemen”—the captain gestured toward Cassandra—“behold the ill-tempered shrews these colonies breed.”

The men seemed more than happy to obey the order as all eyes took Cassandra in as if she were the feast at a royal ball. Only then did Luke notice that the breeches she wore revealed far too much of her feminine curves.

Captain Raynor smiled. “As it happens, I’ve been in dire need of a decent cook for quite some time. Mr. Milner over there”—he flicked a hand toward a man on his right—“can’t boil a chicken without making it taste like tar.”

The grimy cook lifted one shoulder and smiled.

A metallic taste filled Luke’s mouth. The sun beat down on him, lashing him for failing once again.

For the first time, fear took residence on Cassandra’s features, as if
she’d only just awakened from a dream. “I am no cook, Captain.”

“Indeed? Regardless, you would make a lovely addition to our ship.” Pompous victory rang in the captain’s tone. “And from the look in Captain Heaton’s eyes, you are much more than a cook to him.”

“She is nothing to me,” Luke growled, desperate to say anything to save her.

Cassandra shot him a pained glance as Biron eased over the railing to join them.

“Then you won’t mind if I borrow her?” Removing his hat, the captain dabbed a handkerchief over his forehead. “All the more incentive for you to return with more supplies. I do say, my men and I are becoming quite accustomed to eating fresh food.”

Grumbles of assent thundered through the crowd.

Luke clenched his fists. His fingernails dug into his skin. “John is more than enough incentive.”

Cassandra backed toward the railing. “You cannot kidnap me, sir. I am neither a privateer nor in the military. I am but an innocent citizen of Baltimore.”

“There are no innocents in that haven of pirates!” Captain Raynor barked then stuffed his handkerchief inside his coat. “I can take whatever I wish to take. When the subjects of our great and glorious king defy his laws and resist his rule, they lose all rights.”

“She’s just a lady, sir.” Biron shared a harried glance with Luke.

Luke reached for the hilt of his sword out of habit, meeting dead air. He stepped in front of Cassandra. “Take me instead. My crew will still do as you say.”

“I don’t quite agree, Captain. The woman ensures your return. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve had female companionship.” Raynor smiled at the lieutenant standing to his right, who returned his grin with a chuckle.

Loose sails flapped above them.

Cassandra’s eyes took on a haunted look. Gone was the anger, the hatred, replaced by sheer terror.

Luke’s blood pulsed in his head. He must do something. But what? He was outmanned, outgunned, outwitted.

“No. I will not allow it!” He charged toward the captain, no longer caring what happened to him. The metallic chime of a sword screeched over his ears before the tip landed on his chest, halting him.

Cassandra gasped. John screamed, “No!”

The captain grinned.

Luke stared at the marine holding the sword. The hatred in the man’s eyes sent a chill through Luke. Settling his breath, he took a step back. He couldn’t help Cassandra and John if he were dead.

“Oh, and by the by,” Captain Raynor added with a smirk. “We found the note you gave the lad, so I wouldn’t be trying that pathetic ploy again if I were you.” He gazed up at the sun and frowned. “Infernal heat of these colonies!” Then with a flick of his finger, he gestured for the purser to step forward. “I wish to purchase only what we agreed upon, Captain Heaton. Take the rest home. We shall see you two weeks hence.”

And with that, he swung about to speak to his first lieutenant. Two sailors grabbed Cassandra’s arms and led her away. The last thing Luke saw was her pleading gaze before she dropped belowdecks.

Cassandra couldn’t feel her feet. Couldn’t feel her hands as the men led her below. Was her heart still beating?

“Put her in the warrant officer’s cabin, Mr. Windor.” The marine on her left released her to the other man, who then ushered her down a narrow hall, lit by intermittent lanterns swaying with the movement of the ship. Halting before a door, he opened it and shoved Cassandra into a cabin not much bigger than a coffin. A wooden plank attached to the bulkhead and covered with a straw tick formed the bed. Beside it, a tiny desk and chair filled the rest of the space. Uniforms hung from hooks on the opposite wall. The sailor lit the lantern then backed out of the room, his eyes hungrily roving over her. He shut the door, and the lock clicked.

Cassandra stood there, numb and empty and alone. She heard the cargo being loaded on board, the shouts of men, the boatswain’s pipe, the thunder of sails flapping to catch the wind. But not until the ship jerked and began to move, did she fall to the bed in a heap.

What have I done?
She began to sob as stories Marianne had told of her impressment aboard the HMS
Undefeatable
rose in Cassandra’s memory to torture her. Stories of endless days cleaning and polishing and scrubbing and catering to the every whim of a mad British captain with no rescue or end in sight.

The ship yawed to starboard, and Cassandra clung to the bed frame to keep from falling. Every inch they sailed over the sea sped her farther
away from her home, her family.

Why had she been so foolish? Fury had dulled her reason. She slammed her fist against the bulkhead. Pain burned up her wrist. She should have known better. She should have contained her rage.

Even now, despite her terrifying predicament, that rage stirred to life within her. Or maybe because of it. It was Luke’s fault she was here. If he hadn’t been a traitor, hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t broken her heart, she would never have snuck on board his ship.

Drawing her boots up on the bed, she curled into a ball and hugged herself, trembling. Fear battled heartache for preeminence as tears poured down her cheeks onto the burlap coverlet. An hour or two passed. Or maybe more. The sun, like an apathetic actor, passed over the stage of her porthole until it disappeared beyond.

Finally the latch lifted, and the door creaked open to reveal a boy around nine or ten years of age, holding a tray of food. Unkempt dark brown hair fell around his face and nearly reached his shoulders. Gray eyes twinkled above a smile that reminded Cassandra of Luke. She looked away. She didn’t want to be reminded of Luke. The boy slipped inside and set the tray on the desk.

“Captain sends his regards, miss. He thought you might be hungry.”

Cassandra eyed the steaming tea and plateful of apple slices and cheese, but her stomach lurched at the sight. “You may inform the captain I’ve lost my appetite.”

The boy gave an understanding nod. “It’s not so bad here, miss. You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to—” Cassandra stared at the boy. “Are you a prisoner too?”

He nodded. “For a month now, as well as I can guess. At first, I was real scared like you are now, but”—he shrugged—“most everyone’s been nice to me, though they do make me work all the time.”

The ship bucked, and he stumbled, favoring one of his legs.

“I’m John.” His kind smile eased over Cassandra’s nerves.

“A pleasure, John.” She nodded. “I’m Cassandra.” She studied him. “How did you get here?”

“Same as you, miss. I was taken from Luke’s ship.”

Frowning, Cassandra rubbed her forehead. Nothing made sense anymore. “What were you doing aboard Luke’s ship?”

The boy beamed with pride. “Why, miss, don’t you know? I’m his brother.”

  CHAPTER 30