Page 50 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

Elias

T he thump of a body hitting the upper deck made my stomach turn.

Another followed it. Then another. Wounded?

Dead? I couldn’t tell. Night had set in, and very few lanterns were lit on either ship.

The battle had to be drawing to a close.

No one could make out who was friend or foe in this lighting.

I could hardly make out the masts before me.

Moaning from near the port rail signaled life. Praise the heavens. I wished I could go to them, help them get to the surgeon below, but I couldn’t leave the helm unmanned. I could only pray the enemy wouldn’t jump over the rail with them.

A figure dodged through the ship’s lines, hurrying toward me in the mist. I tensed as my brain brought up each possibility of French or Englishman. The person was too short to be a seaman. They sprinted to the steps up to the quarterdeck.

“Elias!” a voice I hadn’t expected to hear until the battle was won shouted.

I allowed myself a glance. “May? What are—”

“They’ve crossed over through the gun ports right below us.” She moved in close, the binnacle lantern in its case in front of me revealing her taut face.

I clutched the handles of the wheel. “They’ve infiltrated the ship?” What could we do? We had little defense. “Where are they now?”

“étienne stopped them on the gun deck. But he’s alone.” She grabbed my sleeve. “We need to help him.”

“How many?” If they’d pulled a significant number over, they’d trap the fighting crew between the two ships.

“No more than a few, but they can easily overpower étienne.”

A few? They must be trying to sabotage the ship.

Perhaps disable our guns or ... Would they really go for the powder room?

My blood ran cold. Very few ships actually sank in battle, leaving the orlop relatively safe for noncombatants such as May and Mrs. Peyton, but images of the burning ship after our last engagement still flooded my mind, brilliant fire against the blackness of night.

We’d share their fate if those intruders weren’t stopped.

“We have to find the captain,” I said.

“I’ll go.” She released my sleeve.

My heart leaped into my throat. “No! They’ll attack you.

Look what you are wearing.” They wouldn’t stop to notice the way her waistcoat and trousers clung to her curves in a rather unmasculine way or the feminine line of her exposed arms beneath her rolled-up shirtsleeves. I was only too aware of them.

“Someone has to find him,” she said.

“Give me the wheel,” a voice grunted. A form limped up the steps to the quarterdeck. Mr. Midshipman Kingdon, the oldest of the young gentlemen.

May stepped around me to assist him. “You’re wounded, Mr. Kingdon.”

He gave her a confused stare, as though surprised at the woman’s voice coming from someone he thought was a ship’s boy.

“I injured myself tripping on the deck,” he said more gruffly than usual.

Embarrassment over the injury, perhaps? “The captain insisted I return to the Marianne to not endanger myself or anyone else further.” He reached for the wheel. “Let me be of some help.”

I reluctantly let him take my place. Captain Peyton gave me instructions to do this and nothing else. But he hadn’t anticipated the French counterboarding.

May pulled me toward the starboard rail. “Where was the captain, Mr. Kingdon?”

“At the waist. They haven’t struck their colors. No one knows why.”

“Elias, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered to me.

The last thing I wanted to do was plunge into that battle. Though I couldn’t see the action, I could hear the clink of blades and shouts. “And let you go alone unprotected? Not on my life.”

“Look.” She dropped to the deck and rose with a long length of wood in her hands. “A spear. I’ll be armed.”

I sighed. “That’s a boarding pike. Do you know how to use it?”

“No, but it can’t be that difficult.”

I took it from her, pointing the long, metal blade into the sky.

It was more difficult than it looked. I hadn’t held one of these in years, but the captain of the Lumière had made us train with them constantly when I’d been a member of his crew.

The length and weight felt more manageable as a man of twenty-six than it had as a boy of twelve. “We’ll go together.”

She nodded. “Together.”

May

I glanced over the rail. Grappling hooks held the two frigates together, but there was still a gap one could fall through into the ocean below. I gulped at the thought of being crushed between the two hulls when the waves knocked them together. It looked far too likely a scenario.

Elias held my arm. I could feel his fear in the stiffness of his fingers, but his care for me wouldn’t let him stay behind. It was a great blessing but would also be a great responsibility. I had to make sure I never took advantage of it. Too many had already done so with him.

One of the gun ports below the quarterdeck had a rope connecting to the Saint-Germain .

“Elias, can you see that?” I motioned to the gun port.

“The rope? Barely. Perhaps we should ...”

A form leaned out of Saint-Germain ’s gun port. I seized the rail. Another Frenchman joining the others. “We have to stop them.” étienne would be overpowered in moments, if he hadn’t already been.

We raced back to the quarterdeck. What could we do? Throw something at the mariner?

Elias held up the boarding pike. “We need to cut the line. You aim. I’ll ram it.”

I grasped the handle a little below his hands and positioned the weapon above the line. “Now.”

He thrust the pike downward but missed the line. A cry of anger rumbled from the opposite gunport.

“Hurry,” I said. “Again.” Heaven knew what other weapons they had at their disposal. The next try also went wide.

The noise of battle almost drowned out a metallic click.

“May, get down!” Elias grabbed me and threw me to the deck. Something hit the rail, showering us with splinters. I tried to get up, but his torso pinned me in place.

“Are you hurt?” I clung to his coat.

“No, but he’s reloading.” The words vibrated in his chest, filling me with a comfort I shouldn’t be feeling in the middle of battle.

Focus. “Let’s cut the line before he finishes,” I said. For a second, Elias didn’t move. Then he jumped to his feet and hauled me up with him. This time, we both grasped the pike and wound up.

“Three, two, one,” I said. And we slammed it downward together.

The blade caught something, then slipped through.

I hit the rail from the force of our blow, scraping my brow just under the brim of my cap, and released the handle.

I dropped to the deck, holding my head. Something clattered against the Marianne , then hit the other ship. Angry French voices followed it.

“May! Are you injured?” Elias pulled me away from the rail. Another shot went off, sending more chunks of wood into the air.

I got to my knees. “Not badly. We need to hurry.” My forehead pounded, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the scrape bled. I hoped Elias wouldn’t notice it.

We scrambled back toward the waist on hands and knees to a point where a grappling hook and line held the ships closer together. I took hold of one of the shrouds and pulled myself onto the rail.

Elias stopped me with a hand on my arm. “We’re weaponless,” he said. “The boarding pike fell.” That must have been what hit the side of the Marianne .

“We don’t have time.” Was that glimmer in the night the gold braids of Captain Peyton’s coat?

Elias released me and scooped something off the deck. Another long-handled boarding pike. But it looked to be missing its blade. I squinted. No, it had something blunt on the end. Elias joined me on the rail.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A sponge,” he grumbled.

“We’re fighting the French with a cannon sponge?”

He winced at the absurdity. “As you said, we don’t have time.”

The ship tilted on a wave, and I gasped, clawing at the shrouds.

“Hurry, the ships are closing in,” Elias hissed.

I gulped, balking. The jump to the Saint-Germain was longer than I’d thought even with them moving closer. Elias would make it easily with his long legs.

The Marianne continued to slide toward Saint-Germain . “Before they hit—jump!” He leaped away, catching one of the French ship’s lines and clearing the rail.

I jumped a second too late. My foot hit the Saint-Germain ’s rail, sending a jolt through my leg that buckled my knee.

I flailed, the black waters below us filling my mind as I fell forward.

The ships crashed together with protesting beams. The force knocked me headfirst onto the deck, and I might have broken my neck if Elias hadn’t caught me by the torso with his free arm.

I grabbed hold of his leg, one of my feet still hooked around the rail.

I wriggled in an attempt to get out of the humiliating position.

Finally, I kicked free and tumbled the rest of the way to the deck, landing none too gently on my rump.

Not far from us, I spied a pair of shoes and the white-and-blue tails of an officer’s coat. The captain. I pushed myself up, grit from the deck sticking to my palms. Captain Peyton had a Frenchman by the throat and had shoved him up against the mainmast.

“There he is.” I darted toward him, earning an unintelligible shout from Elias. Debris littered the upper deck. I skirted a cannon lying on its side, wooden gun carriage smattered. A dark form in a heap beside it didn’t move. I slowed, stomach wrenching. For a moment, I’d forgotten the cost of war.

A reassuring hand on my back kept me moving forward. I looked up at Elias. The faint light of lanterns pulsed in his sorrowful eyes. What person with a heart such as his could bear it?

“Captain!” I called.