Page 118 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

Three clangs echoed on the deck.

“Another second ship?” Mr. Hayward said from Cedric’s right.

Words no pirate wanted to hear.

Lifting his head, Cedric’s gaze moved across the horizon, panic settling in his stomach. Behind the first Naval ship, a second sailed into view, traveling at roughly the same speed as its twin.

They were going to surround him, trapping his ship between theirs, and gut the boat with cannon fire. No mercy for the villainous Captain Shaw.

“When I meet Mr. Johnson in the afterlife, I will spend my eternity torturing him for this betrayal.” Hatred rolled over Cedric’s shoulder.

“The devil would be fortunate to have you as his first mate, but I don’t intend to release you from service today.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Mr. Hayward said, his eyes locked on the approaching ships. “Have you already bargained for our souls?”

“We can’t sink both ships, and we can’t use the coal, but we need to move quickly. Can you think of no way to increase our speed?”

Mr. Hayward’s eyes widened. “You want to dispose of the cannons?”

“The cannons, the powder, the coal, anything we can throw overboard.”

“We will be unarmed! The men—”

“Would prefer to escape with their lives,” Cedric said, a hard edge in his reply. “Give the order.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Mr. Hayward turned, strode across the deck, and stopped dead-center in the deck beside the main mast. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, his voice carrying over the commotion.

“Unload the cannons!”

The crew reacted as Cedric expected, fear rippling through them like lightning. The understanding that they were outmatched driving them, the men shoved the cannons through the windows on the gun deck, ripping the wood in their desperation to get the heavy iron off the ship.

With each splash, the ship picked up a tiny bit of speed.

“Fire!”

The command was faint, but the result was the first ship shooting at Cedric. Their cannonballs missed, falling short of the stern, but terror settled around his heart.

If the Naval ship struck the stern, Alana and Mrs. Parker, hidden in his cabin, would suffer the worst of the blast. His eyes met Mr. Hayward’s. He must have had the same concern, for his first mate jerked his head toward the officer’s quarters, a silent confirmation that Cedric should release the women.

As Cedric made his way toward his cabin, his path was blocked by Northcott, who appeared suddenly, huffing, as though he’d run the length of the ship.

“Captain, we’ve cleared the gun deck.”

“Go to the galley with Wickes,” Cedric replied, “remove what you can lift, and throw everything overboard.”

“Including the food?” Disbelief flickered across Northcott’s face.

“Rations won’t do you any good in Hell.”

Northcott snapped his mouth shut, saluted, and rushed toward the galley.

It must have seemed odd to the first Naval ship when they came upon a group of floating bread loaves, as though food had taken to traveling packs, but if the captain of that ship was intelligent, he’d realize the significance behind the appearance of necessary sailing staples.

The unloading of goods did increase their speed to the point they were traveling at the same pace as the ships chasing them, but that knowledge gave Cedric no comfort. They couldn’t maintain this velocity, especially if the wind changed, and where that would harm them, the Naval boats still had the benefit of coal.

“Captain Shaw!” Mrs. Parker’s red hair appeared at the entrance to the officer’s quarters.