Page 40 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)
“They’re following,” she reported, her voice carrying to where Sidney stood at the helm.
He nodded grimly. “As I expected. They want us — or what we carry — badly enough to risk difficult navigation.”
His gaze met hers, a flash of understanding passing between them. “The question is: what are they truly pursuing? The treasure... or you?”
The question struck at the heart of the fear that had been growing inside her since the ship first appeared on the horizon.
Was this her uncle’s doing, reaching across an ocean to reclaim the niece who represented access to a fortune? Or was it Sidney’s rival, determined to secure the treasure they sought by any means necessary?
Either possibility led to outcomes too terrible to contemplate.
“I’ve endangered everyone aboard,” she said, the realization hitting her with sudden force. “If they’re pursuing me, every man on this ship faces danger because of my presence. And if they’re after the treasure, my being here has only complicated your ability to outmanoeuvre them.”
Sidney’s expression softened, a remarkable gentleness entering his eyes despite the tension surrounding them. “You are not responsible for your uncle’s cruelty or Blackwell’s greed, Docila. Whatever danger we face, the fault lies with those who pursue, not with the pursued.”
The kindness in his words nearly undid her composure, bringing an unexpected sting of tears to her eyes that she blinked away quickly. Now was not the time for emotional weakness, not when every hand aboard was focused on their shared survival.
The ship jolted suddenly, a sickening scrape beneath the hull indicating contact with one of the hidden hazards Sidney had been navigating around. The sound sent a surge of panic through the crew, men looking toward their captain with alarm evident in their expressions.
“Minor contact only,” Sidney announced calmly, his steady voice immediately settling the rising anxiety. “Keep to your stations, gentlemen. The channel widens ahead, but we’re not clear yet.”
Docila marvelled at his ability to project such confidence, such absolute authority in the face of increasing danger.
She had seen glimpses of this quality throughout their journey — during the storm, during the near mutiny — but never so clearly as now, with their lives potentially hanging in the balance of his decisions.
The channel did indeed begin to widen, the rocky walls falling away on either side to reveal a broader expanse of water ahead.
But rather than offering relief, the opening only allowed them to see what waited beyond — a second vessel, smaller than their pursuer but similarly armed, positioned to cut off their escape from the channel.
“Captain!” Fletcher called, alarm evident in his voice. “Second ship ahead! We’re trapped between them!”
A cold weight settled in Docila’s stomach as the reality of their situation became clear.
This was no chance encounter, no opportunistic pursuit by a rival. It was a coordinated effort to capture the Seraphim, planned with enough care to position vessels at both ends of the channel that might have offered their escape.
Sidney’s expression betrayed no surprise, only a grim acknowledgment as he assessed this new development.
“So, Blackwell brought friends,” he remarked, his voice deliberately loud enough for the nearest crew members to hear. “Or perhaps your uncle is more resourceful than anticipated, Miss Archer.”
He crossed to where she stood, his movement deliberate and unhurried despite the urgency of their situation.
Reaching her side, he spoke more quietly, his words for her alone.
“Docila, listen carefully. If we’re boarded, if it becomes clear we cannot prevail, you must be prepared to act.
There’s a small inlet on the eastern shore, sheltered by rocks but deep enough for a strong swimmer. ”
Realization dawned with horrifying clarity. “You want me to abandon ship? To leave you and the crew to whatever fate awaits?”
“I want you to survive,” Sidney replied, his voice low but intense.
“If it’s your uncle’s men, they’ll have no interest in harming the crew once they have you in custody. And if it’s Blackwell...” He hesitated, then continued with brutal honesty. “If it’s Blackwell, your absence might provide leverage I can use to negotiate for my men’s safety.”
“I won’t leave you,” Docila protested, the very thought sending a wave of anguish through her. “Not to face capture or worse alone.”
Sidney’s hand found hers, hidden from the crew’s view by the folds of her skirt.
His touch was warm, steady, anchoring her against the rising tide of panic.
“This isn’t a request, Docila. It’s the contingency plan of a captain who must consider all possibilities.
I cannot focus on what lies ahead if I’m consumed with worry for your safety. ”
The intensity in his eyes stole her breath, the unspoken depth of feeling between them suddenly laid bare by the prospect of imminent separation.
This was not merely a captain’s concern for a passenger, not simply the protective instinct of a gentleman toward a lady.
It was something far more profound, something neither had dared acknowledge directly until danger forced their feelings into the open.
“Sidney,” she began, but he shook his head, cutting off whatever plea she might have made.
“Promise me,” he insisted, his fingers tightening around hers. “Promise me that if I give the signal, you’ll go without hesitation. Without looking back.”
The request tore at her heart, the thought of leaving him to an unknown fate almost unbearable. But she recognized the steel beneath his words, the captain’s resolve that would accept no defiance in this matter.
“I promise,” she whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal even as she understood their necessity. “But you must also promise me something in return.”
Sidney’s eyebrow raised slightly, a question in his gaze.
“Promise me you’ll find a way to survive,” Docila said, infusing her voice with all the fierce determination she felt. “Promise me this isn’t goodbye.”
For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across his face, a rare glimpse beneath the captain’s mask he wore so consistently. Then he nodded, a simple acknowledgment that carried the weight of an oath between them.
“I promise,” he said quietly.
Then, with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he released her and turned back to the helm, his bearing once again that of a captain preparing to face whatever challenge awaited his ship and crew.
Docila remained at the rail, her gaze fixed on the vessel waiting ahead while the pursuing ship continued to close the distance behind them.
Trapped between two armed adversaries, with rocky shores offering no escape for a ship of the Seraphim’s size, their situation appeared increasingly desperate.
Yet as she watched Sidney calmly issuing orders, preparing the crew for whatever came next, she found her terror gradually transforming into something steadier — a resolved acceptance of what might be necessary.
If she must leave, must swim for that distant shore alone while Sidney faced their pursuers, she would do so with the same courage he demonstrated now.
And she would find her way back to him, whatever it took. That was a promise she made silently to herself as the Seraphim sailed deeper into the trap that had been so carefully laid for them.