Page 4 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

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meline knew very little about Jesuits, but there was no time to ponder the odd statement as Captain Keene, if she remembered his name correctly, stormed from the cabin, the monkey on his heels. The door was left open with no guard outside. An oversight? Perhaps not. What harm could she possibly do to the ship or anyone on it? The opposite was more likely. Regardless, Emeline followed them at a distance. If they were to engage in battle, she’d rather be on deck than cowering below where shots would be aimed.

She emerged from the companionway to a blast of hot night air and the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and the sea. Pirates dashed across the deck, some carrying shot to be loaded into guns, others carrying weapons—axes, muskets, blades, and pistols. One man was pouring sand over the deck. Shouts bellowed like grapeshot, sending men into the ratlines to adjust sail for maximum speed. A young lad of no more than twelve, who carried a bucket of powder cartridges, glanced her way and smiled. No one else paid her any mind. The captain stood near the helm, spyglass to his eye.

Emeline inched her way to the starboard quarter and followed the aim of his scope. In the light of a half-moon and splattering of stars, Emeline could make out the dark outlines of at least two ships, large ships by the looks of them, perhaps frigates or galleons. Their fore-lanterns bobbed up and down as the ships rounded each swell, engaging in an odd dance of lights like fireflies she’d once seen in the Carolinas. What she could determine, even in the shadows, was that ’twas not her father in pursuit. That fact alone caused her heart to shrink. Had he been able to follow close enough to see what ship she’d been taken to? If not, how would he ever find her?

Even as she entertained such terrifying thoughts, peace welled up within her. Her father might not know where she was, but God did. Surely, He would lead her father to her. Won’t you, Lord ?

“They’s comin’ up fast, Cap’n,” the man with the gray bandana shouted. “We’ll be within range o’ ’er guns soon.”

Captain Keene lowered the scope and frowned, then spun and spewed orders to his crew. “All hands to the braces! Two points to starboard, Rummy. Bear up and keep her full!”

“Beat to quarters!” the man wearing the bandana shouted.

“Run out the guns!” The voice of the master gunner snapped Emeline’s gaze in that direction. Pacing behind two guns on the main deck, the man continued shouting orders. But nay, ’twas a woman’s voice, though powerful, that emerged from the figure.

Long brown hair fell from beneath a cocked hat as she leapt up on the foredeck to instruct the gunners in their tasks. Though she wore the same attire as the pirates, the slight sway of her hips gave her away. A female master gunner? In all her years at sea, Emeline had never seen such a thing.

Nor did she have time to ponder it when a boom thundered across the sky, sending her heart leaping into her throat.

“All hands down!” someone bellowed, but she was already on the deck, covering her head with her hands.

Rarely did ship battles occur at night. Then again, everything about this night was odd.

The shot splashed into the sea, and only then did she allow herself to breathe. They had missed. Or perhaps ’twas merely a warning shot.

Growls along with cheers blared from the pirates as Emeline struggled to rise. She’d been in ship battles before but always with the assurance of her father’s expert skill. She had no idea if Captain Keene knew what he was doing. Especially against two such mighty ships.

“They are separatin’, Cap’n,” Finn said. “Comin’ along either side o’ us.”

“ Mon dieu ! We don’t stand a chance against both of them!” Maston raged. “They’ll sink us for sure.”

Captain Keene gazed toward the enemy ships, only then noticing Emeline. At first, he seemed surprised to see her above deck, but then he fished something out of his pocket and held it up to the lantern light. “We shall see,” is all he said as he gripped the Ring, marched to the railing, and lifted it up toward the sky. His lips moved, but she could not hear what he was saying.

Regardless, she remembered how the Ring had mysteriously glowed. Did this madman believe the ancient fables that told of its powers?

“Orders, Capitaine ?” the dandy with the French accent asked, spite in his tone.

Pounding his fists on the railing, the captain returned to the helm and began issuing orders, “Shake out the reefs! Hoist the stays! Set royals and topgallants!”

The brig veered to larboard, sails flapping and blocks creaking, and Emeline clung to the railing as the deck tilted. A spray of sea water misted over her. Blinking it away, she gazed back at the ships heading straight for them. Should they be allowed to surround the brig and loose a broadside from both sides, they would be done for.

Mist . A puff of white smoke appeared over the water. So small at first, she barely noticed it. As she watched, it grew rapidly into a cloud that began rolling over the sea like a curtain, ending the act of this heinous war play.

But where had it come from? Emeline had seen no clouds, and ’twas far too warm a night for fog.

She glanced back at the captain, who only now noticed it, a slow grin forming on his lips.

“Wha’? I ne’er seen the likes o’ that,” the one-armed helmsman exclaimed, slurring his words.

All the pirates, in fact, stopped their battle preparations and stared at the odd sight.

Odd indeed, as the cloud continued growing larger and thicker until it formed a moving, undulating wall of white between them and their pursuers.

Captain Keene chuckled and slapped his helmsman on the back, then issued orders to trim sails and adjust course north by northwest.

Though shock still froze many of their faces, the pirates obeyed their captain, and soon the brigantine sailed through the dark waters without a care in the world. Within minutes, no sign of either the cloud or the ships could be seen over the dark expanse of the sea.

“Stoke the galley fire. Have Cook prepare a feast in my cabin,” Captain Keene ordered before making his way toward her.

Emeline’s nerves tightened.

He gestured behind him to the companionway. “To my cabin, Miss. We have much to celebrate this night.”

Celebrate ? Her tightened nerves knotted. “You may celebrate without me.”

“Scads! Without the woman who gave me such power? You saw it!” he whispered as he gestured toward the sea. “The Ring caused that cloud.”

“Ludicrous. Surely, you can’t believe such nonsense.” Even as she said it, she recalled seeing far greater miracles than that in her life. But those had been wrought by the hand of God, not by a trinket in the hands of a madman.

“How can you deny it?” He studied her, shifting his stance on the heaving deck.

Still clinging to the railing, Emeline flattened her lips. “What are you going to do with me, Captain?”

He huffed. “I haven’t decided. Though for tonight, I wish you to be my guest. ’Tis been a long time since a lady graced my dinner table.”

She would wager it had been an eternity. “And if I don’t wish to come?”

He grinned. “Then you may stay here on deck with my crew.”

Emeline glanced at the slovenly, rapacious men going about their duties, some casting her hungry grins.

She gave a dainty smile. “I believe I will accept your invitation, Captain.”

“I thought so.” He extended his elbow.

She pushed past him, heading toward the companionway, surprised at her boldness while also nervous that it might very well cause her demise.

Back in his cabin, the captain all but ignored her as two of his crew busied themselves setting up a long table, complete with silverware, pewter plates and cups, candles, and lanterns. The young lad she’d seen above deck entered with bowls of fruit he placed on the table.

“Good evening t’ you, senorita ,” he said in a Spanish accent, dragging off his floppy hat.

Captain Keene spun from where he’d been holding the Ring and staring out the stern windows. “Miss Hyde, this is Pedro, cabin boy, powder monkey, and pirate in training.”

The boy grinned at the last statement and dipped his head before her.

“A pleasure,” Emeline said. “And just how old are you, Pedro?”

“I’ll be thirteen next month, senorita . Old enough to be a pirate.” Streaks of coal lined his youthful face where barely a whisker grew, but there was a spark of innocence in his blue eyes that drew her in.

“There are far better things than pirating, Pedro. Far more honorable things.”

“Wha’ could be better than bein’ a buccaneer?” The pirate with the gray bandana strode into the cabin, casting her a disparaging glance before tussling the lad’s tuft of red hair and popping his pipe back into his mouth.

Pedro grinned.

“Finnegan Wix, my quartermaster, Miss Hyde.” Captain Keene crossed arms over his chest.

“Mr. Wix,” she said.

“Ah, call me Finn, Miss. Everyone does.”

The monkey scampered in after him and leapt on the table, grabbed a banana from the bowl, and began peeling it. Scaring him away with a brush of his hand, Finn took a seat. “Filthy beast,” he growled.

Emeline nearly smiled at the irony, for she wondered when the man had last bathed.

“Ah, mademoiselle .” The slick voice drew her gaze back to the door where the Frenchman strolled in. Removing his plumed blue hat, he dipped his head. “Claude Maston, at your service.”

Without her offering, he took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss.

“Maston is my bosun.” The captain snorted as he grabbed a bottle and poured a glass of rum. “And you’ve met One-Armed Rummy, my helmsman.” He gestured to the tall man who ducked as he entered the room. His dark eyes scoured over her before they landed on the bottle the captain was holding. Licking his lips, he made his way over to pour a glass.

Thankfully, none of them, save the Frenchmen, seemed overly interested in her. Especially the older pirate who wandered in next, the ship’s surgeon who’d attended the captain’s wound earlier. His glance took in the cabin with a frown before he wandered to the stern to stare out the windows.

Behind him, two pirates entered with steaming platters and bowls, which they slammed onto the table, filling the cabin with scents of boiled fish and fresh biscuits that teased Emeline’s empty belly.

“Out with you.” The captain waved them away.

The Frenchman pulled out a chair and smiled her way. “ Mademoiselle ?” He was not a tall man and rather slender, but he might be considered handsome with his wavy black hair and deep-set eyes were it not for the dirt that encrusted his skin and permanently stained his otherwise elegant attire.

“She sits beside me.” The captain’s tone brooked no argument as he took his seat at the head of the table and nodded toward the chair to his right.

Inching her way over, Emeline sat, her stomach in so tight a knot, she doubted any food could pass through. But what choice did she have? Her mind spun with a myriad of horrifying possibilities of her future. Nay! She must trust God. He knew her predicament, and though, at the moment, she felt not His presence, she knew He was with her.

Finn grabbed a platter of salted fish and began piling food onto his plate.

“We wait for Charlie,” Captain Keene said.

“Women ain’t nothin’ but trouble.” One-armed Rummy sneered at her.

“Come now, Rummy. Charlie has saved our skin more than once.” Maston took his seat and poured wine into his glass.

“Sorry to be late.” A female voice drew Emeline’s gaze to the door, where the woman master gunner sauntered in with a grin on her face and the authority of any pirate. Her gaze brushed over Emeline, and a tiny smile lifted her lips before she pulled out a chair and plopped down beside Finn.

And the meal commenced. If you could call it that. ’Twas more like watching pigs at the trough—drunken pigs that was. Through it all, the monkey traveled down the table, plucking any morsel of food he wished.

Aside from an occasional glance from the captain and Monsieur Maston’s constant prurient stare, no one paid her any mind. ’Twas as if kidnapping innocent women were a common occurrence aboard this ship.

The woman gunner kept up with the rest of them in both drink and boasting, and the pirates treated her as one of their own. Though Emeline had encountered a few women at sea in her voyages with her family, she’d not seen the likes of this one. A vision…a thought, perhaps, filtered across her mind of this woman with a baby in her arms, but Emeline cast it aside. No doubt she was so benumbed with fear, she was imagining things.

The older surgeon, introduced to her as Sam Goode, said little, drank more than he ate, and stared off into space as if he were somewhere else. Or perhaps he wished it to be so.

She could see where Rummy got his name, for the man never ceased from his rum. The more he drank, the louder and more belligerent he became.

Finn spoke mostly of gold, conquests, and battles, the same bodacious bragging Emeline had heard from many a pirate over the years. He was a thickly muscled man with a cropped beard and tiny slit-like eyes full of greed. She got the sense he’d grown up poor, very poor.

“You haven’t eaten,” Captain Keene finally spoke to her, nodding toward the lump of fish, biscuit, and mound of peas she’d placed on her plate.

She shook her head and gave him a look of bewilderment. Did the man expect her to enjoy a meal that very well might be her last?

He stared at her with those penetrating green eyes, studying her, and she longed for his assurance that he had no depraved plans, but instead he looked away and grabbed his drink. Her gaze dropped to the cross and the odd emblem hanging upon his chest, and she wondered at their significance.

The surgeon drew a deep breath, as if it took a great effort to speak. “Quite the fortunate weather we had this evening, Captain.”

Blake shared a glance with her. “I have a pirate’s luck is all—the luck of a buccaneer.”

“Or be it that Ring that’s good luck?” Finn belched and, having finished his food, lit his pipe. “The one ye gave the lady.”

“A Ring?” Maston laughed and sipped his drink. “How could a Ring create such a thick fog?”

Finn puffed on his pipe. “Then why did we follow ole Slippery Crock around the Caribbean so’s ye could take it from him?”

“It’s a king’s Ring, and I’m a king. That’s all you need to know.” Captain Keene leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

Rummy shifted his glassy eyes over everyone. “If that Ring ’as power, then scupper, sink, and burn me if I don’t quit me rum an’ live the rest o’ me life sober as a nun.”

The pirates chuckled.

Charlie pointed her fork at him. “What’s in your head, Rummy? We all know you can’t do nothing, least of all steer this brig, wit’out your rum.”

“Here, here!” Maston raised a glass, joined by his compatriots. “To Rummy’s rum!”

Sam snorted, eyeing the lot of them with disdain. “Only the ignorant believe in fairy tales and myths.”

“Who ye callin’ ignorant?” Finn shoved back his chair and shot to his feet, hand on the hilt of his blade.

Emeline stopped breathing.

“Stand down, Finn,” the captain ordered, his tone akin to one swatting away a fly. “Ignorant or not, I’d say you are all too far into your cups.”

The captain included, by Emeline’s assessment.

Finn uttered a growl but obeyed his captain. “Jist because Sam ’as some fancy learnin’ don’t mean ’e can look down ’is nose at the rest o’ us.”

Charlie cleared her throat as if to assuage the tension in the cabin. “So, this is your new paramour?” She nodded toward Emeline, her tone playful. “She’s different from your usual.”

His usual ?

“I beg your pardon.” Emeline huffed. “I am no one’s mistress!” she managed to say, though her voice squeaked like a frightened mouse.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “For shame, Captain. Did you kidnap this poor woman?”

The captain seemed to take no offense to her question. Instead, he cocked his head and studied Emeline yet again.

She shifted in her seat, longing to dash from the cabin and this dangerous, quarrelsome band of miscreants.

“Nay, I plan on returning her to her home soon,” he finally said.

Emeline allowed a spark of hope to ignite.

“ Non, Capitaine , I say we keep her.” Maston raised his brows in her direction. “We need something pleasant to look upon.”

She shot a spiteful look toward the Frenchman.

“Women’s bad luck,” Rummy slurred. “I says we toss ’er overboard.”

Anger stormed through her veins at the brazen audacity, uncouthness, and wickedness of these pirates, chasing away the fear. She glared at the one-armed man. A vision of a large crocodile flashed across her eyes.

“’Twas a croc that got your arm,” she blurted, instantly silencing everyone at the table. Everyone, save the monkey, who screeched from his perch on the stern window ledge.

“How would ye know that, missy?” Rummy growled, narrowing his eyes.

Even the captain stared at her as if she’d grown horns.

“She’s a witch, says I.” Finn stood and plucked a knife from his belt. “I say we ’ang ’er from the yardarm!”