Surrender the Heart (49 page)

The
Fortune
flew through the sea with everything she could set to the breeze, plunging into the rollers and sending spray back over the deck.

One man at each gun held the burning wick, awaiting Noah’s command. He studied their enemy. Not in range yet.

Darkness tumbled upon them. Noah peered toward Daniel and Blackthorn who manned the gun beside him. The red glow of the wick shook in Blackthorn’s hands as the giant bear of a man hovered protectively over his son. Daniel stood his ground beside the carronade— the sturdy form of a boy with more courage and faith than Noah had ever seen.

Noah’s throat went dry. Though only a shapeless gray mass, he could still make out the sloop as she swept alongside them, a half mile off their beam. The black mouths of ten guns on her larboard side gaped tauntingly at him. His nerves clamped.

They intended to fire a broadside.

“Hard to starboard, Mr. Pike!” Noah shouted. He’d cut them off and try to get close enough to cripple their rigging.

The ship groaned and heaved as the deck canted high in the air. Noah clung to the railing, Weller at his side. “On my order, Mr. Weller.”

His gunner nodded.

Yellow flames burst from the British sloop.

“Fire!” Noah yelled. The boom of his guns merged with the simultaneous blasts of the sloop’s ten cannons resulting in a thunderous volcano.

Shot whizzed by Noah’s ears. He dropped to the deck. The crunch and snap of wood filled the air. A scream of agony. The
Fortune
jolted. Black soot settled on him like a death shroud. He coughed.

The beat of his heart drummed a funeral march in Noah’s head. He shook the fog from his brain and struggled to his knees. Agonizing screams and harried shouts fired over the deck. Noah stood. Batting away the smoke, he eyed the sloop, her sails full, her rigging tight. His shots had not met their mark.

And still they came, veering to follow him.

The sound of coughing drew his gaze to Blackthorn and Daniel. They staggered to their feet, but they appeared unharmed.

Luke darted to his side, a bloody gash across his cheek.

“Damage?” Noah asked.

“Grainger is dead. Two others injured. Three of our guns were blown to bits, and they punched a hole in our forward hull. We’re taking on water.” Luke wiped the blood from his cheek with his sleeve.

Grainger dead
. Noah lowered his chin. What had he done? But he couldn’t think of it now.

“Put Mr. Lothar and Mr. Boone on the pumps at once. Have Matthew attend to the injured.” Noah glanced at the sky, dark enough to see stars flickering back at him, and then at the sloop. Only the foam lining her gray hull gave away her position.

Which meant she could barely see the
Fortune
as well.

Luke brayed orders across the deck then returned to Noah’s side.

“Relentless,” Noah spat as he watched the sloop tack to starboard, no doubt in an effort to offer him another broadside. “She’s like a mad demon.”

Luke gripped the railing, his eyes narrowed on their enemy. A slow smile spread over his lips. “Even a demon can’t see in the dark.”

Noah nodded at his first mate. “Douse all lights. Every light.” He directed Luke, then he turned toward Mr. Pike—ever faithful at the helm. “Three points to larboard, Mr. Pike.” He faced Luke again. “Have the men lower topsails. Let’s alter our position and see if we can’t lose them in this darkness.”

“Aye, Captain.” Luke’s approval beamed in his gaze as he turned and left.

Noah stared out upon the choppy waves of the ebony sea. He patted the stained handkerchief in his pocket. “I may be joining you soon, my brother.”

With all lanterns snuffed, darkness hungrily consumed the ship, swallowing both sight and sound in every crack, plank, and timber. Only the wash of the sea against the hull and the occasional snap of sail as they tacked to starboard marked their position.

A yellow jet of flame burst in the darkness off their starboard beam, followed by an ominous boom. Noah’s spine tightened. Could they see him? Was the
Fortune
outside their range? Seconds ticked by as long as minutes. Visions of his own splintered, crushed body flashed across his mind. But then a splash sounded off their starboard quarter, and he released a ragged sigh.

Matthew joined him. The metallic smell of blood filled the air. “Praise be to God, they can’t see us.”

“What of the injured?” Noah prepared himself for the answer.

“Mason and Crenshaw? They’ll live.” Matthew’s normally cheery voice sounded as thick as molasses.

Blackthorn slipped beside Noah. “I’ll bet on me mother’s grave, those Brits’ll be there in the morning. Sink me, I’ve served long enough wit’ the likes o’ them to know they never give up. They’ll follow any spark of light, any sound, and be right on us at first light.”

Noah frowned. The tiny thread of hope he’d been clinging to slipped through his fingers at Blackthorn’s morbid declaration.

“He’s right.” Luke sighed.

“At the rate we’re taking on water, it won’t matter,” Noah said. “We’ll sink before dawn.”

Despite her trembling legs, Marianne squared her shoulders and gave Lieutenant Garrick her most defiant look. It did not, however, wipe the odious grin off his face or make him disappear. Instead, it emboldened
him to take a step toward her and finger a strand of her hair. She batted his hand away and tried to skirt around him.

He blocked her exit. “What have we here? Come looking for me, perhaps?”

“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Garrick.” Marianne tried to shove past him, but he remained as immovable as a brick wall. She pursed her lips and dared a glance into his icy blue eyes. “If you don’t mind, I shall be on my way.”

“But I do mind, Miss Denton.” He scratched the well-groomed whiskers on his jaw. “Your absence above deck these past weeks has left me pining for a moment alone with you. Then what do I hear in the middle of the night, but you fumbling about the wardroom? Fortunate, indeed.”

“Fortune has nothing to do with this.” Marianne stepped backward. Her foot thumped against a barrel. A dull ache formed at her ankle.

Mr. Garrick’s gaze leeched over her, sucking in every detail. “Whatever are you doing down here, Miss Denton? I perceive you are up to no good.”

“I … I …” Marianne’s knees began to quake. “I was searching for the surgeon. I do not feel well.” Which was no lie as nausea began to brew in her stomach.

“Hmm. I am sorry to hear it.” But his nasally voice indicated more disbelief than concern. “But you are nowhere near sick bay.”

“I got lost.”

He studied her. The lantern light accentuated the malevolence in his eyes. “Have you given much thought to my offer, Miss Denton?”

Marianne raised her nose. “Not a second’s worth, Mr. Garrick.”

“Hmm. Most unfortunate.” He grinned and leaned toward her. “Most unfortunate for you, that is.”

His hot breath, tainted with rum, wrinkled her nose. Marianne slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and searched for her knife. The thought of stabbing a man horrified her.

Mr. Garrick loosened the cravat around his neck. “Quite unsafe for
a woman to wander around the ship at night.”

“Pray don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Garrick.” She laid a hand on his arm to push him back. “I shall remedy the situation immediately.”

Lieutenant Garrick clutched her shoulders.

Jerking from his grasp, Marianne stepped backward. The hard wood of the bulkhead blocked her retreat. “I implore you, sir, to behave with the propriety of an officer and a gentleman in the Royal Navy.”

He chuckled. “A gentleman’s chivalry extends only to ladies, not rebel wenches.”

Indignation stiffened her jaw. “I am no wench, sir. I am a respectable lady.”

“Upon my word, Miss Denton, what do you expect me to believe when I find you skulking around a place only meant for officers? No doubt you hoped to awaken me so I would follow you here. Ah, such sweet encouragement.”

“I have given you no such encouragement, sir!” Marianne’s throat closed. Her sweaty hands slid over the knife handle. She was beginning to think she could indeed stab a man—especially this particular man.

He extended his hand. “Give me the knife, Miss Denton.”

So he had seen her
. “I’ll give you the knife.” Marianne’s tone held the sarcasm she intended.
Right through your black heart
.

In one swift movement, she tried to draw the knife from her skirts. The handle became entangled in the fabric. Her breath halted in her throat as she struggled to extricate the blade. Finally, she freed it. It slipped from her sweaty grip and clanked to the deck.

“Pathetic display, my dear.” Garrick snickered as he kicked the blade out of her reach.

Any hope Marianne had fostered that she would escape this monster smothered beneath a wave of dread.
Lord, please help me
.

Garrick took the lantern from her grip and placed it atop a barrel.

“I’ll scream.” Her voice quavered.

“No, you won’t.” He slammed his hand over her mouth.

CHAPTER 26

E
ase her down slowly, Matthew,” Noah whispered, not daring to use his normal voice lest the sound alert their enemies. He glanced up into the night sky lightly dusted with stars then over the ebony sea.

Matthew directed the two men holding the tackle ropes on either side of the cockboat. They released the lines inch by inch, and the boat slowly lowered over the side of the ship. As soon as they heard the craft strike water, Luke tossed a rope ladder over the edge. Blackthorn, unlit lantern in hand and rope tied about his thick waist, straddled the bulwarks and nodded toward Noah.

“Are you sure?” Noah asked him once more, barely making out his bulky form in the darkness.

“Aye. You got me off that British frigate. I owe you. ‘Sides, I’m the strongest swimmer.” He looked over the edge and shrugged. “I’ll see you soon.” His affectionate gaze took in Daniel before he dropped over the side and eased himself down into the rocking vessel.

“Be careful,” Agnes called after him, drawing Daniel close to her.