Page 20 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

Elias

M y jaw ached from clenching my teeth, and my eyes felt as though they’d been dredged with sand as I stared ahead into the now-familiar lines of the Marianne ’s masts and rigging.

“Topgallants are set, sir,” Hallyburton said.

To my left, Captain Peyton regarded the Fatalité and then the newcomer to starboard. “Man the lights. Load the guns. We’ll give them a parting shot and make a run for it.”

A broadside from the starboard opponent snapped through the rigging. I’d stopped flinching at the deafening roars. They wanted to make a prize of us, leveling out our masts without damaging the bulk of the ship. But they didn’t care how many of the crew they took out with the masts and rigging.

A ship’s boy, one of the Carden brothers, appeared near the binnacle before me, ready to extinguish the lantern.

“Guns ready,” Roddam said.

“Fire as they bear.”

A breath, shouts, and then eruptions from prow to stern. The Marianne seemed to tense beneath me as guns on all sides flared in the darkness. Sparks pulsed in my vision.

“Douse the lights!” Peyton cried, the shots still echoing.

In moments, everything went black. I clung to the handles, locking my arms to keep the wheel in place. The nothingness around us pressed into my soul, driving out emotion and thought until I hardly remembered my own name.

The lights on either side of us steadily receded as the breeze caught our topgallants. Though all in this battle were frigates, Marianne had the speed advantage at nearly half the tons in burthen as the Frenchmen.

Bursts flickered out of the corner of my eye. More shots.

“Steady,” Peyton muttered.

Geysers burst up from the water around the stern, but nothing hit home.

A trickle of sweat wound down the side of my face, leaving a trail on my skin for the wind to catch and chill.

Distant shouts echoed across the water. Though I’d studied French for years, the fog muffled the words enough that I couldn’t make out their meaning.

We stood still as mountains in the dark as the Marianne pulled away.

It seemed an age before the lights at Fatalité ’s bow fell behind us.

I knew better than to allow myself relief.

If they had swivel guns at the stern to engage us early on, they’d certainly have swivels at the prow when they tried to chase us down.

A broadside to starboard shook the night, and I tensed, holding my breath. No crashes or cries. They’d missed again.

“They’re still firing,” one of the midshipmen whispered.

I heard rather than saw Peyton’s answering grin. “But not at us.”

Praise the heavens.

“They’re firing at each other, and they don’t even know it,” another midshipman said, a laugh in his voice before Lieutenant Roddam quieted him.

We sailed on in eerie silence, at every moment expecting a volley from the French chasers.

Each time the wind played with the sails, my heart faltered at the resulting snap.

But the enemy ships didn’t seem to notice we’d slipped out from between them.

Broadsides continued, quieting as we went.

They were fighting friends, the smoke and mist all around hampering their views.

“Roddam, man the helm,” Peyton whispered. “Stay the course. We need to get away before they realize what’s happened and can still track us down.”

It should have calmed me, knowing I was being relieved of my duty, but my body remained rigid, my limbs tight as pulled bowstrings. Roddam’s shoulder bumped mine, and I relinquished the wheel, stepping back to give him space.

I dropped my arms to my sides. They hung tired, weak, thrumming from how tightly I’d grasped the handles and how long I’d held them up. Turning, I took in the ships behind us. They were little more than orange blurs in the blackness, slowly fading. We’d made it for now.

“Thank you, Doswell,” came the captain’s whisper again.

I couldn’t answer, my voice having fled.

I’d faced equally terrifying situations on our last voyage that should have desensitized me like it did every other man on this ship.

And woman, for that matter. I’d seen Mrs. Peyton stare down danger without blinking.

Mrs. Hallyburton ate danger smeared on her ship’s biscuits, a feat in itself, as one could break a tooth on the barely edible disks.

And Miss Byam hadn’t let the sight of terrible wounds affect her in the slightest.

You’re just a coward, Elias Doswell. No wonder so many women have turned their backs on you.

My skin tingled where Miss Byam had grabbed my hand. She’d seen that cowardice. She’d perhaps pitied me for it. Pity would do me no favors in her eyes.

“Hallyburton, light the binnacle lantern,” Peyton said. “Merkley, let’s check our course. Block the light as best we can.”

Rustling preceded a faint glow, outlining the boatswain’s and sailing master’s forms. The light caught Captain Peyton’s cocked hat as he skirted them and knelt to check the compass.

“Still due south. Very good.” He instructed Roddam to bring the ship slightly more west, then he called for a sounding to be taken and the crew to clew up the topgallants.

Traveling too fast in this fog was perilous now that we were out of the Frenchmen’s grasp.

Officers lit a few lanterns down the length of the deck.

The crew didn’t snap into action as usual but crept along and spoke in low voices. I went to the stern rail, a slice of which had been blown off by one of the French shots.

“You didn’t think we’d make it, did you?” the captain asked, joining me.

I laughed sheepishly. “I did not doubt your abilities, if that is what you mean. Only our odds.” He could hardly blame me, caught between two much larger French frigates.

“Never say die, Mr. Doswell.” He extended a telescope and lifted it to his eye.

“Do you think they will give chase?” The shattered wood’s splinters dug into my palms as I steadied myself against a wave, praying we wouldn’t repeat this engagement tomorrow.

Too many factors at sea could negate our speed advantage.

The mists closed over the Frenchmen’s lights, leaving us completely alone in the blackness.

“It would depend on their mission. Working together, a twenty-eight-gun frigate would be an easy prize. In better conditions, of course.”

A spark burst into view, and a boom echoed across the water, louder and deeper than cannon fire. Peyton leaned forward with the telescope. The flickering light remained, haloed in the thick air.

“One of them is on fire,” Peyton whispered.

A chill moved over my arms. Had a cannon exploded, or had the ship caught fire and blown up the magazine?

“Do we return?” I asked. The idea of men floating on debris, trying to stay afloat, filled my mind’s eye.

Fire was a ship’s worst enemy, and as such was highly regulated on board. But you couldn’t escape that in battle.

Lines strained above us. Sails murmured as seamen hauled them in. Tackles tapped against the masts.

Peyton sighed and shook his head slowly. “She’ll have to rely on her comrade. I cannot risk my men or my ship.” He closed the telescope. “There are too many unknowns. If we return and the fire was quickly controlled, we’d be a sitting duck. We have to protect ourselves.”

“Of course.”

He left the rail to give orders, but I stayed until the light dissolved, praying the souls aboard hadn’t met a watery grave.

May

When Captain Peyton entered the cockpit, the tight coils inside me released. The room had filled with several more seamen needing attention for less serious injuries. They had brought word that we were most likely out of danger, but the captain’s presence gave the confirmation I needed.

The coherent men grabbed the brims of their caps. He waved them off from standing to properly salute. “A report, étienne.”

“No casualties, sir.” Relief flooded the Frenchman’s voice. The captain clapped him on the shoulder. So friendly a gesture for an enemy.

I finished wrapping a seaman’s arm in linen and tied it off.

He nodded his thanks, and I took the leftover cloth and salve I’d used back to étienne’s medicine chest. Across the cockpit, Fitz muttered something in his laudanum-induced stupor.

He’d have scars worthy of boasting about when he healed. I didn’t envy him that.

Captain Peyton pulled his wife into a corner and said something I couldn’t hear.

I paused as I tucked the salve into its place.

Mrs. Peyton didn’t show much emotion most days, but tonight, pride shone in her eyes as she listened to her husband.

She took his hand, earning her a grin and a kiss on the forehead.

To have someone caring for you like that must be a wonderful thing.

I closed the chest’s lid and rose. I’d envied Agnes her comfort in finding a husband and not having to fear for her future, but I hadn’t thought on the comfort of having someone to confide in, someone to share in your hopes and sorrows.

How much easier to recover from a night of fear and anxiety like tonight knowing you had someone not far away. In body and in mind.

The captain moved to the wounded men in hammocks. “Fitz, I see you’ve managed to earn yourself another spot in the sick bay.”

“You know she’s closer to my age than yours,” the boy growled, barely intelligible.

Peyton chuckled. “étienne, I think you were heavy-handed on the laudanum.”

étienne looked up from the seaman he was bandaging with one of his sly smiles. “Miss Byam gave it to him.”

I frowned. On his orders.

The Frenchman’s eyes twinkled. “She has been as helpful as any surgeon’s mate. She did her work well.”

I furrowed my brows further. I didn’t hear praise often.

Mrs. Richardson hadn’t given it frequently under her employ, nor had my mother or aunt at home.

Now this foreigner, practically a stranger, gave it to someone who’d tied a few bandages and had supposedly given a wounded seaman too much laudanum.