Page 20 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)
She looked as though she might argue, but something in his expression must have convinced her of his seriousness. “Very well, Captain. But once we’re at sea, I expect to be treated as a member of this crew, not as cargo to be protected.”
A shout from the dock caught Sidney’s attention.
One of his men was pointing toward the harbourmaster’s office, where a well-dressed gentleman was engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation with several officials.
Even from this distance, Sidney recognized the figure — their pursuer from the market.
“Get below,” he ordered Docila, all pretence of discussion abandoned. “Now.”
To her credit, she obeyed immediately, disappearing into the ship’s interior. Sidney strode across the deck, calling for Fletcher.
“Change of plans,” he said grimly as the first mate hurried to his side. “We leave before the full tide. Get all hands aboard and make ready to sail within the hour.”
“Sir?” Fletcher’s gaze followed Sidney’s to the harbourmaster’s office. “What’s happening over there?”
“Nothing good,” Sidney replied. “Our friend appears to be attempting to arrange some official interest in the Seraphim. I’d prefer to be well away before he succeeds.”
Fletcher nodded, immediately turning to bellow orders to the crew.
Men scrambled to their stations, the usual orderly preparations for departure accelerating into urgent activity.
Sidney continued to watch the harbour office, noting with growing concern that the official speaking with their pursuer had now produced a spyglass and was examining the Seraphim with obvious interest.
This was no longer a matter of simple surveillance.
Whoever was behind this had influence, enough to potentially arrange an official detention of his ship while “inquiries” were made.
Once caught in the bureaucratic machinery of colonial administration, they could be delayed for days or even weeks — more than enough time for Blackwell or another competitor to gain an insurmountable lead in the race for the treasure.
And if the pursuer was indeed working for Hugo Archer rather than a treasure-hunting rival, the situation was potentially even worse.
Official cooperation in returning Docila to her “rightful guardian” would be almost assured, especially if Hugo had painted her as mentally unstable or otherwise in need of protection.
Sidney strode to the quarterdeck, taking his position at the helm. The familiar feel of the wheel beneath his hands brought a measure of calm to his troubled thoughts.
“Mr. Fletcher!” he called. “Are all hands accounted for?”
Fletcher was scanning the dock with his monocular.
“Harrison and the six missing men are heading this way.”
“Signal them to hurry.” Sidney bit out the words. “Or we won’t be able to wait. Prepare to cast off.”
Fletcher cast him a troubled glance.
“The second they’re aboard we leave.”
As the first mate moved to carry out his orders, Sidney turned his attention back to the harbour office. The official was now engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument with another man — a naval officer, judging by his uniform. The presence of the Royal Navy complicated matters considerably.
The missing crew stopped trying to be discreet at the beckoning gestures from their shipmates, dodging others on the dock and running as fast as their sea legs could carry them. As ordered, the men were barely aboard before the crew went into action.
“Cast off all lines!” Sidney ordered. “Unfurl the mainsail and jib. We’re taking advantage of the outgoing tide.”
The crew moved with practiced efficiency despite the unusual haste.
The Seraphim began to edge away from the dock, slowly at first, then with gathering momentum as the wind filled her sails.
The officials who had been clearly discussing them scrambled toward the dock edge.
Sidney suspected there would be a pursuit.
But he wasn’t worried. They had the advantage.
A movement at his side drew his attention. Docila had reappeared on deck, her face set in determined lines despite the obvious tension in her posture.
“I thought I told you to remain below,” Sidney said, unable to keep the edge from his voice even as he manoeuvred the ship through the crowded harbour.
“You did,” she acknowledged calmly. “But as I’ve demonstrated before, I don’t always follow orders I consider unreasonable.” She gazed out at the harbour. “Besides, I thought you might prefer to know that there’s a sailor belowdecks who doesn’t belong to your crew.”
Sidney’s hands tightened on the wheel. “What?”
“I found him searching through your cabin,” Docila continued, her voice remarkably steady. “He’s currently unconscious and tied to your bed frame. I hit him with that rather heavy brass paperweight you keep on your desk.”
For a moment, Sidney could only stare at her, astonishment temporarily overriding all other concerns. Then, despite the gravity of their situation, a bark of laughter escaped him.
“You never cease to surprise me, Miss Archer,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “Mr. Fletcher! Detail two men to deal with a prisoner in my cabin. Perhaps we can use him to our advantage. The navy could surely use another recruit.”
Sidney refused to be distracted by the laughter dancing in Docila’s eyes.
“Make sure to untie him before you throw him overboard,” Docila called to Fletcher as he moved toward the hatch.
“And search the ship thoroughly. If one managed to get aboard, there may be others,” Sidney added.
As Fletcher hurried to carry out these new orders, Sidney turned back to Docila.
“That was quick thinking. And brave, if somewhat reckless.” Despite his words, there was unmistakable admiration in his tone. “Though I would prefer you not make a habit of confronting intruders alone.”
“I didn’t have time to find help,” she replied simply. “And I wasn’t about to let him steal your maps or whatever else he was after.”
Sidney studied her for a moment, struck anew by the contradiction she represented — the refined young lady with the spirit of an adventurer, the stowaway who had become, improbably, one of the most trustworthy people aboard his ship.
“Thank you,” he said finally, the words inadequate but sincere.
She accepted the gratitude with a slight nod, then turned her attention to the harbour mouth, now drawing closer. “Will we make it before they catch us?”
“The Seraphim is the fastest ship in these waters,” Sidney replied, confidence returning as they picked up speed. “And I know her capabilities better than anyone. We’ll make it.”
Indeed, the naval vessel was still weighing anchor, their pursuit delayed by the necessities of proper procedure. A small boat that had been dispatched continued to row toward them with determined strokes, but they were falling behind with every passing moment.
And their pursuers would soon be forced to turn aside and deal with the ship’s intruder.
The Seraphim flew across the water, her sails full, her timbers creaking with the strain of their speed.
As they approached the harbour mouth, the headlands rising on either side, Sidney allowed himself a moment’s satisfaction.
They would clear the harbour well before the naval vessel could give chase in earnest.
“We’ve escaped them,” Docila observed, a hint of wonder in her voice as she gazed back at the diminishing shoreline.
“For now,” Sidney cautioned, unwilling to celebrate prematurely. “But they’ll follow. And they’re not the only ones we need to worry about.”
He gestured toward a merchantman anchored just beyond the harbour mouth, its outline familiar enough to send a chill down his spine despite the tropical heat. “That ship belongs to James Blackwell. And I’d wager my last coin that he’s aboard, watching us at this very moment.”
Docila’s eyes widened as she took in the implication. “We’re caught between two pursuers?”
“So, it would seem.” Sidney’s jaw tightened as he calculated their options. “But the advantage remains ours for the moment. We have speed, local knowledge, and a head start.” He adjusted their course slightly, aiming for the open sea beyond.
“And what happens when they catch up?” Docila asked quietly.
Sidney met her gaze directly, allowing her to see the determination in his eyes. “They won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
As the Seraphim cleared the harbour mouth, her sails billowing with the stronger winds of the open ocean, Sidney felt a curious mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
The danger was real, the pursuit nearly certain.
Yet there was also a sense of rightness to it all — the challenge of the sea, the test of his skills, the defence of his ship and crew against those who would interfere with his mission.
And, though he was reluctant to admit it even to himself, the protection of the remarkable woman who now stood beside him, her hair blowing in the salt breeze, her eyes bright with the same mixture of fear and excitement that he himself felt.
The race had begun in earnest now. And Sidney Peters, captain of the Seraphim, did not intend to lose.