Page 7 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)

W hat was he supposed to do? Sidney asked himself, shoving his hand through his hair as he paced around the confines of his small chamber.

It was an impossible situation — having a woman on board was not only impractical but also put her safety at risk. But taking her back to the port was only going to delay them. They would lose nearly a week, depending on the tides.

The memory of her defiant stance, chin lifted and eyes blazing despite her obvious exhaustion, played in his mind.

That small dagger clutched in her hand as though she truly believed she could defend herself against an entire crew of seasoned sailors.

There had been something almost admirable in her foolish bravery.

Sidney shook his head, dispelling the thought. Admirable or not, she had created a serious problem for him and his mission. Every day they delayed was another day Blackwell might gain on them. Every change in course risked losing their advantage.

And yet, what else could he do? Leave her at the next port they encountered? That might be weeks away, depending on the winds, and it wasn’t likely to be much of an improvement on her circumstances, possibly more dangerous for a young woman alone than remaining aboard the Seraphim.

As he paced, Sidney straightened up the clutter of maps and tools throughout his room.

It was a comfortable chaos that he usually enjoyed, but when he had a decision to make, he needed it to be tidier so it wouldn’t distract him.

The girl was lovely, Sidney admitted, but that was part of the problem.

His men were good men, but for weeks or months, that was going to be a challenge.

But he couldn’t lose a week of the hunt.

He picked up a navigational sextant that had been resting on a stack of charts and placed it carefully on its stand.

Next came the chronometer, an expensive piece that his father had given him when he earned his first command.

It needed winding, and the familiar ritual gave him a moment’s peace as he turned the key with practiced precision.

The charts themselves were another matter.

Some were standard navigational maps of well-charted waters, but others were more precious — the result of years of research, rumours followed to their sources, and careful piecing together of historical accounts.

These he gathered with particular care, aligning their edges precisely before rolling them together and securing them with a leather strap.

All the while, his mind circled back to Miss Archer. Docila. An unusual name, but fitting for the niece of a man who would sell her to the highest bidder. A woman who was anything but docile, despite her name. The irony almost made him smile… almost.

He remembered her account of her uncle’s plan, the desperate circumstances that had driven her to this reckless escape. Could he in good conscience return her to such a fate? But was that truly his concern? He was a ship’s captain, not a knight errant rescuing damsels in distress.

His hands stilled on the compass he was about to move.

Wasn’t that exactly what he’d done for his sister, Martha, when that scoundrel Lawrence had tried to press his suit upon her?

Sidney had intervened then, threatening the man with bodily harm if he ever approached Martha again.

It had caused a minor scandal, but Martha had been safe, and that was all that mattered to Sidney.

But this was different. This wasn’t his sister; this was a stranger who had forced herself into his life and his mission by stealing aboard his ship. He owed her nothing beyond basic human decency.

And yet...

Sidney paced some more, struggling with the decision.

He sat down at his desk to try to get some work done on the map he was designing based on the clues they had found.

It was usually the most enjoyable task as well as soothing to his soul, but he realized the turmoil he was facing was too big, even for this.

The map before him represented years of work, not just his own but that of his closest friends as well.

Jasper’s wedding had been the culmination of their long quest to connect and decipher the clues, and Meredith’s insight about the order had been the final piece of the puzzle.

They were counting on him to find the treasure, to secure their shared future.

How could he jeopardize that for a young woman who had thrust herself into their carefully laid plans?

Sidney traced the coastline with his finger, following the path they would take to reach the coordinates marked with a small X.

St. Augustine was still weeks away, and there were countless dangers between here and there — storms, pirates, Blackwell.

Adding a woman to that list of concerns seemed foolhardy in the extreme.

He opened his logbook, flipping through the pages of careful notations until he reached the most recent entry from that morning.

His own neat handwriting recorded their position, the weather conditions, the direction and strength of the wind.

Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.

Or had been, until Miss Archer had been discovered.

Sidney dipped his pen in the inkwell, hesitating for a moment before beginning to write.

How should he record this development? “Stowaway discovered in cargo hold”?

“Unwanted passenger complicating mission”?

In the end, he settled for a simple statement of fact: “Young woman found hiding aboard. Decision pending regarding her disposition.”

The ink dried, the words staring back at him accusingly. Decision pending. As if there were any real decision to be made. The sensible, practical choice was clear: return to port, remove the stowaway, and resume their course with minimal delay. It was the only logical option.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to give the order.

Sidney closed the logbook with more force than necessary and stood, resuming his pacing.

The small cabin, usually a haven of privacy and calm amid the bustling activity of the ship, now felt confining, the walls closing in around him.

He needed air, space to clear his head and make a rational decision.

But he couldn’t leave, not until he’d decided what to do about the girl.

As though he had conjured her with his thoughts, there was a loud knock at the door and before he could respond, Fletcher strode in with the girl’s arm clasped tightly in his hand.

“The storage cabin wasn’t to her liking, Captain,” Fletcher said through stiff lips.

Sidney shifted his hard stare between his trusted man and the girl fidgeting at his side.

“What seemed to be the problem?” Sidney asked, keeping his voice calm despite the urge to throw something.

“There wasn’t a lock on the inside,” the girl answered, meeting his stare with a defiant glare of her own.

“What would you have need of a lock for?”

“I’m not so na?ve as to think this is a safe environment for me, sir. Surely you can understand that.”

“And it didn’t seem to me that the lock on the outside was sufficient to keep a resourceful one like her in either, Captain, if I might be so bold,” Fletcher added.

“Very well, Fletch. Leave her with me for now. I’ll see to both locks myself. There are surely more important things for you to be taking care of.”

Sidney almost chuckled over the relief that flooded his man’s face while the girl’s expression appeared as though he had injured her. Clearly, she wasn’t stupid. He had meant the insult. There were far more important things to be taking care of than this uninvited stowaway.

He held open the door to his closet. “In you go.”

She stared at him with indignation.

“You plan to lock me in your closet?”

“It’s hardly different than the hold you’ve been in for days,” Sidney argued. “I can’t have you wandering around bothering the men while I see to the locks.”

She didn’t argue further, much to his shock. With her thus stowed, Sidney attempted to return to his work.

But it was impossible to concentrate with the girl in his closet. What if she called out and was heard by a passing crewman? What if she tried to escape? What if she became ill from the confinement and lack of food? Had Fletcher fed her as he’d been instructed?

That last thought brought him up short. He hadn’t offered her any sustenance since her discovery hours ago.

After days of hiding in the hold with limited provisions, she must be hungry, perhaps even starving.

The realization pricked at his conscience.

Whatever she had done, whatever inconvenience she had caused, she was still a human being in his care.

Finally, as he was pouring over the map and logs of previous travels, he heard a light tap at the door. Sidney glanced toward the closet where he had locked Docila and couldn’t help grinning.

“Excuse me, sir,” she called out. “Are you still there?”

With a heavy sigh, Sidney got up from his desk and marched toward the closet, opening it to find her sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. In that position, she almost looked like a child, and Sidney couldn’t hold on to his anger any longer.

The sight of her there, making herself as small as possible in the cramped space, tugged at something in him he didn’t want to acknowledge.

For all her defiance earlier, there was a vulnerability to her now that was impossible to ignore.

Her dark hair had come loose from its pins, falling in waves around a face that, despite its obvious breeding, showed signs of exhaustion and hunger.

Her dress, once fine but now rumpled and stained from her time in the hold, hung on a frame that seemed too slight for her height.

“What do you want?” he asked her bluntly, but with less anger in his tone than the last time he had spoken to her.