Page 23

B ack in her own cabin, Rose was startled awake by the sound of pounding of footsteps on the boards overhead followed by an almost simultaneous knock on the door.

“Sails off the larboard beam.” Stubb poked his head inside. “Too far to see ‘er flags.”

Rose sat up, drawing the blanket up to her chin. “Has she noticed us?”

“We be runnin’ due east, so a lubber-head would ‘ave to be blind not to ‘ave seen our silhouette against the dawn.”

Rose cursed and swung her legs over the side of the berth. She had fallen into bed wearing only the oversized cambric shirt she had donned before creeping out of Fonteyne’s cabin. She snatched up her breeches and pulled on her boots, stamping her feet in firmly.

“Where are the Pride and Cygnet ?”

“The brothel had trouble with her rudder. Mercado put a tow line on ‘er an’ we cut our speed so they could pull ahead rather than be drug behind.”

“When did this happen? Why wasn’t I told about the rudder?”

“’Appened durin’ the ghost watch.” He avoided meeting her eyes. “Billy an’ me thought it best to leave ye be.”

Her cheeks turned ruddy but her voice was all business. “Is the Pride still under tow?”

“Duardo signaled the repairs be almost done.”

Rose tightened the laces on the shirt then shoved her arms through the sleeve-holes of her waistcoat as she hurried to the desk. “Where the devil are we, anyway?”

“Passed Pirate Wells an hour ago an’ now we be just shy o’ the Nobbins.”

Rose took a moment to glance at the open chart she had been about to study before …

well, before. The Nobbins were the first of two islands that formed the chain of over three hundred atolls and cays stretching up for almost as many miles.

Stubb had dubbed them Big and Little Nobbin, with the bigger of the two identifiable by three distinct pitons.

“How far?”

“T’ree, maybe four hours.”

As she passed Stubb on her way out of the cabin, he was still avoiding her eyes and she cursed inwardly.

If he and Billy knew where she had spent the night, then it was likely most of the ship’s crew knew as well.

She had assumed it would be awkward seeing Fonteyne up on deck for the first time, but she hadn’t anticipated a hundred men staring at her and snickering.

Out in the companionway, Rose shoved an arm into the sleeve of her coat and nearly fisted Sebastien Fonteyne in the face as he emerged from the quartermaster’s cabin.

They both drew up short and stared for a full ten seconds.

“I heard the bell,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can stay out of my way.” She pushed past and dashed up the ladderway to the main deck. The wind was brisk, the eastern sky was watery gray with the light starting to spread out across the sky as the dawn rose to chase away the night.

Billy Burr was waiting on the quarterdeck and handed her a long-glass.

The first thing Rose did was check the position of the Pride and the Cygnet , estimating they were little more than a pistol shot ahead.

Two sets of cables were stretched between them, but the lines were slack, indicating the Pride had begun answering to her own rudder again.

She swung the glass around and looked out over the stern. The distant ship was emerging from the west, presenting a full set of sails, a tower of white against the retreating night sky.

“Flags?”

“Too far to tell until the sun climbs higher,” Billy said. “Carrack maybe or a schooner.”

“Or one o’ them revenuers who like to lurk like vultures up an’ down the Alley.” Stubb spat over the rail. “I warned ye we be takin’ a chance comin’ this way, an’ ye know how much I hate bein’ right all the time.”

“So you keep telling us,” Rose said and rolled her eyes slightly. “But one ship against three? For all we know, it could be another ship doing what we’re doing: running up the Alley toward New Providence.”

Rose felt a chill slither down her spine as she heard Fonteyne’s voice over her shoulder. “May I take a look?”

Without turning or looking at him, Rose handed him the long-glass.

He stepped to the rail beside her and made two, three slow passes along the western horizon before focussing on the distant speck of white.

He lowered the glass and frowned in thought for a moment, then peered through the glass again.

“Not Spanish,” he said. “Not French or Dutch.”

Billy scowled. “A ship you might recognize, perhaps?”

Fonteyne lowered the glass and glared at Billy. “Are you asking me if I somehow managed to signal our course to another ship despite being nearly comatose on laudanum for the past day two days?”

Rose raised a hand before Billy could offer up a retort. “If she’s not Spanish or French or Dutch, that leaves?—”

“They,” Fonteyne said quietly. “There are at least two and they don’t seem to be too shy about it. They are showing lights on deck.”

Rose snatched the glass back and raised it to her eye. He was right. The shifting light and mirror-like haze shimmering above the surface of the water had hidden the second ship, which was just now taking shape. Both vessels had lights winking from their decks.

“The American navy is spread too thin,” Fonteyne said, his brow furrowed in thought.

“At last count, they had seventeen frigates and corvettes, eight schooners, and three brigs. Most, if not all, locked in ports behind the blockade lines. The British navy, on the other hand, has a hundred ships patrolling that line and access to eight hundred more fresh from the war with France with admirals itching to bring the fight across the Atlantic. As you have previously pointed out, the Americans don’t have a single tall ship free to protect access to New Orleans—a major oversight which, it may please you to know, I now happen to agree was a blatantly stupid miscalculation.

“The British know the quickest way to bring an end to the rebellion is to stop the supply of guns and powder going up the Mississippi, which is why agents of the Crown have put bounties on the heads of every privateer suspected of selling their cargoes to the Americans. Break the supply chain, end the war.”

Stubb had his glass stuck through the spindles of the taffrail and made a clucking sound with his tongue.

“God’s left eyeball, ‘ee’s right. They be wearin’ British colors, flyin’ ol’ St. George an comin’ on fast. Most like to be revenuers tryin’ to catch us up an’ search us for cargo.

” He lowered the glass and looked up at Rose.

“We could outrun ‘em, so could the Cygnet . But the brothel couldn’t outrun a dead snail.”

Rose turned her glass to the islands they were approaching.

The Nobbins were curved to suggest they once formed the top rim of a volcano.

Separating the two eroded crescents, each four or five miles long, was a channel with shallow, rocky bottoms on both sides and a narrow path of deep blue water in the middle.

The Cygnet and Pride had already fallen into a direct line with the Black Wind intending to take advantage of the stiff breezes and currents to sweep them safely between the reefs.

She swung around to check the position of the revenuers again.

“We don’t have to outrun them,” she said.

“But we can make it look like that’s what we are trying to do.

It’s entirely possible they haven’t seen the other two ships yet, hampered as we were by distance and morning haze.

We can let them chase us for a while, until Duardo and Mercado are safely on the other side of the channel. Mister Reed!”

The Black Wind’s helmsman stepped up sharply.

“I judge our speed to be seven? eight knots?”

Reed looked at Rose then at Fonteyne, uncertain who to address. “Thereabout, aye.”

“Slow her down to five. Loosen the tops and the royals so they fall slack. Make it look as if we are in some difficulty.”

Reed glanced at Fonteyne and caught the slight nod before he tugged on a forelock. “Aye Captain.”

“Stubb! I need you to signal the Cygnet . The revenuers may think they have a grand prize within their grasp, but we’re going to arrange a little surprise for them.”

Stubb rubbed his hands together with glee and ran forward to signal the other two ships from the bow.

Rose turned and ran squarely into Fonteyne’s chest. He put his hands to her shoulders to steady her and left them there a moment longer than necessary.

Her hair was flying loose in the breezes, the silky red curls teasing the backs of his hands.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with excitement and Fonteyne found himself catching at his breath.

“I am sure you are aware that a ship does not sail well under two captains,” he said after a moment.

“You may be excellent at the helm of your own vessel, Rose, but you know nothing of how the Wind responds under battle conditions. I don’t doubt for an instant you could cope, but wouldn’t you rather be in command from the deck of your own ship? ”

“Mercado is more than capable of commanding the Cygnet .”

“If you are worried about me breaking away after we’ve dealt with the revenuers, or that I might turn my guns on your ship, I’ll remind you that I did give you my bond.”

“I am not worried about that in the least, Captain Fonteyne. Nor am I worried that there will be much of a fight.”

“How can you be so sure? You said yourself, the Black Wind is a tempting prize.”

She responded with a mercurial smile. “I am certain enough to make you a small wager, Captain. If they attack us with any measure of success, I will return command of your ship to you upon the instant.”

She brushed past to hasten forward to the bow and he watched her over his shoulder for a long, dragging moment before turning and following. She had the glass to her eye and spoke without looking at him.

“A night in your bed has not addled my wits, Captain,” she murmured. “It is as fair a wager as you are likely to get.”

“And if they don’t attack?”