Ned came out of the quarter gallery and immediately crossed to the sideboard to grab the pitcher of water to rinse out his mouth.
Again. He’d done it again. Made a bad decision and sent his men to their deaths. So many opportunities to not be in this position again lost, just like the lives of the men he’d sent into the bay.
Audacious rumbled with footfalls and officers’ voices yelling orders to prepare the ship to sail while also preparing her for battle.
His stomach threatened to upend itself again.
The cabin door banged open and his steward entered, with Lieutenant Wallis on his heels.
“Captain Cochrane, there’s another ship coming toward us—from the other side of the bay. It isn’t flying any flag of identification but is signaling they are coming to render assistance.” Wallis’s thin chest heaved with his labored breathing, as if he’d run the length of the ship to share this news.
Could it be Shaw’s other ship luring them into a trap? Ned would not put his crew at further risk, yet could he risk ignoring the offer of assistance?
More pounding footfalls and the midshipman of the forecastle burst into the room. “Captain, you have to come see this—the message from the ship coming toward us.”
Rather than panicked, the boy appeared excited—along with a little confused.
Ned could not let his men see him as indecisive. He slapped his hat back on his head and followed the midshipman to the forecastle. Raising his glass, he looked at the row of small, colorful flags flying at the bow of the ship rounding the mountain on the other side of the bay’s mouth.
He blinked, shook his head, and looked again. Rather than flags corresponding to standard words, the typical way of sending messages from ship to ship, the vessel coming toward them had used flags to spell something.
C-H-A-R-L-E-S-L-O-T-T.
He spelled it to himself three times. Charles Lott. Charlotte. Hope took anchorage in his chest. Could it be? Was she not only aboard that ship, but safe enough to send a message meant to make him trust the other ship to be on his side?
“What does it mean, sir? Charles Lott. He died of yellow fever in Barbados.” The midshipman lowered his glass.
“It means…” Ned took a deep breath and prayed what he was about to say was true. “It means help is on the way. Signal the unidentified ship that we welcome their assistance.”
Ned returned to the quarterdeck, but his eyes stayed trained on the yet unidentified ship. Above him, the unfurled sails caught the wind and Audacious lumbered out of its hiding place, just as the bow of the pirate’s ship came into sight.
The stranger’s ship slipped toward the mouth of the bay, their larboard guns run out. Spyglass to eye, Ned searched the deck of the ship, looking for a familiar and beloved figure. But he recognized no one, not even the dark-haired man in what appeared to be a naval officer’s uniform standing on the quarterdeck issuing orders.
A deafening boom rent the air and smoke billowed from their protector’s side as all of the cannon let loose together.
Ned could not head to open water until he knew his benefactor to be safe. He ran to the forecastle. From here, the cannons had a good line of sight to the pirate ship.
“Fire as you bear!”
Audacious rocked with the recoil of the half-dozen forward cannons that fired. As soon as the smoke cleared, Ned allowed himself a moment of relief. The pirate ship’s figurehead no longer had a head, and smoke billowed from the ship’s forecastle.
Their partner in the attack tacked toward open water.
“Loose sheets, set course for open water!” Ned’s officers relayed his orders to the crew, and with a shuddering turn, Audacious caught a good wind and made for the horizon, following their mysterious friend.
The frigate pulled ahead of Audacious, and Ned finally got a look at her stern.
Vengeance.
The gold-painted lettering struck a memory, but Ned could not quite grasp it. He returned to his cabin and searched through the stack of papers on his desk. Ah, that’s the page he remembered. He pulled out the list of known pirates and their ships. He skimmed it until he found Vengeance.
“El Salvador de los Esclavos,” he read aloud. Strange name for a pirate. If his limited knowledge of Spanish did not fail him, El Salvador meant the savior. And Esclavos meant slaves. A pirate who was known as the Savior of the Slaves?
He returned to the quarterdeck. El Salvador’s ship had pulled even farther away from them on a southward bearing. “Don’t let them get away from us—loose tops’ls and make chase.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” His officers and crew hurried to follow his command. Just as the men who’d died in the bay had done. And just as the men who’d followed the first orders he’d given as a callow young acting lieutenant had done. And they had paid the price for his foolishness. How many more men would die following his commands?
He shook himself out of such thoughts. He could not allow doubts to rule him now. Not when Charlotte’s life could be at stake.
“Sir, they’re running.”
Ned did not need Wallis’s statement to verify what his own eyes told him. Vengeance, smaller and lighter, cut through the waves more efficiently and quicker than Audacious. But with more canvas spread than the frigate could raise, Audacious gained speed and began closing the gap between them.
“Signal Vengeance our identity and that they are commanded, by order of King George, to surrender and prepare to be boarded.”
Wallis’s eyes flashed with apprehension and, perhaps, an idea of exacting some justice for his fellow crewmembers. He ran to the forecastle to oversee the midshipman with the flags.
Ned watched the stern of Vengeance as they raised their flags to answer.
“They’re refusing to stop,” Lieutenant Duncan hissed through clenched teeth, lowering his spyglass.
“Fire a warning shot across their stern.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Duncan snapped his telescope closed and ran to the bow, stopping by the crew manning the forward most cannon. After taking careful aim, Duncan’s yell of “Fire!” echoed up the deck.
The cannonball gouged a chunk of wood from the top corner of the larboard quarter gallery, shattering the windows below it.
Ned flinched and stifled a groan.
Duncan rushed back to him. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought the aim was better—I did not mean to hit the ship, sir.”
“It is minor damage and—” Ned raised his glass again, “they are reefing sails.”
A new set of flags rose at the stern end of Vengeance.
“No surrender, but they will agree to parlay, sir.” Wallis joined them, wiping sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “They have invited you and two officers to come aboard for talks.” His eager expression told Ned he hoped to be one of the officers.
“First Lieutenant Wallis, you will have command while I am gone.” Ned prayed Wallis’s position as senior-most of the lieutenants would be short lived—that Gardiner was still alive and would resume his role as first officer soon. “Lieutenants Duncan and Hamilton—”
The two young men snapped to attention beside him.
“Get the jolly boat ready. Sailors are to be armed with pistols and dirks. You are both to carry two pistols and your cutlasses.” He called for the marine sergeant next. “Have your men line the side, with muskets at the ready.”
“Aye, sir.”
Ned’s steward brought his cutlass and strapped the scabbard so the sword hilt lay at Ned’s left hip, but Ned waved off the pistols. There was protection, and then there was antagonism.
His heart leaped into his throat as he descended Audacious’s side into the launch, and it remained lodged there several minutes later as he climbed the accommodation ladder up the side of Vengeance behind Lieutenant Duncan.
The pirate crew stood in eerie silence. Ned pushed Duncan forward when he attained the top of the ladder, and then he saw what had frozen the young man in place.
Standing only yards from the ship’s entry port was the tallest, fiercest-looking man Ned had ever seen. Wind conformed the man’s open-necked shirt to his body, showing him to be as solidly built as a first-rate man-of-war. The grim set of his face let Ned know he, Duncan, and Hamilton—who drew in a deep breath beside him—were not welcome.
“Cap’n Salvador is waiting for you in his cabin.” The giant had a strange accent to his English, possibly American.
Ned nodded and then followed the giant through the column of men gathered on the main deck. He recognized the build of this ship, a Dutch frigate. Dutch…could this be the ship they had followed into Black River?
The giant stopped at the door to the companionway leading down to the half deck. At the bottom of the stairs, a ginger-haired man met them. “This way, Captain.”
An East Indian opened the door to the captain’s cabin at the redhaired man’s knock and motioned Ned, Duncan, and Hamilton to enter.
Whatever Ned had expected to see, it wasn’t this—a cabin he might see on any Royal Navy ship. No extravagance, no outward signs of wealth.
The dark-haired man Ned had seen through his spyglass stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, wearing a fully adorned admiral’s coat. Duncan and Hamilton flanked Ned, both with their right hands resting on the hilts of their cutlasses.
“Captain Cochrane, welcome aboard Vengeance. I am El Salvador de los Esclavos, known to most as Captain Salvador.” Salvador inclined his head. Rather than having a Spanish accent, as his name would indicate, Salvador’s accent marked him as originating from the south of England.
Ned pressed his lips together to keep from showing any change of expression over Salvador’s use of his name before he introduced himself. “By order of King George the Third, I command you to surrender your ship and yourself under charge of piracy.”
With a slight smile, Salvador shook his head. “From what I have heard of you, I would have expected the niceties to be observed before business is discussed.”
Heat rose up the back of Ned’s neck at the rebuke from a pirate about etiquette. “My apologies, Captain Salvador. Thank you for your assistance with the ship in the bay.”
“An honor, Captain Cochrane. My condolences on the loss of your men.”
Ned’s stomach lurched, but he’d already emptied it twice; there should be nothing left to come up. He mimicked Salvador’s crossed-arm stance. “I pray they are taken, not killed.”
Salvador’s smile disappeared. “Given what I know of the men on Sister Mary, you might do better to pray they died in the attack rather than being captured.”
“So that was Shaw’s secondary ship.” Ned rubbed his cheek with the palm of his left hand. “Where is Sister Elizabeth?”
Salvador relaxed his stance somewhat, moving his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. “I was told in Black River that Shaw sailed to Kingston to…I believe the exact words were ‘retrieve a package’ there.”
Ned snorted in derision. “Only a black-hearted scoundrel would speak of a gentlewoman in that way.”
Salvador cocked his head to the side. “I happen to agree with you, Captain Cochrane. Women should be treated with respect and reserve, not as means for exacting revenge.”
Narrowing his eyes, Ned leaned his weight forward. “Yet I have a strong suspicion you do not always live by that belief, Captain Salvador.”
“What makes you say that?” Salvador’s expression did not change.
“Charles Lott.” Beside him, Ned could sense his lieutenants’ break in composure at the name of the supposedly dead midshipman. “Duncan, Hamilton, wait for me on deck.”
“Sir?” Duncan’s gaze swung from Ned to Salvador and back.
“Now, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Both young men reluctantly left the cabin.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Ned dropped his arms to his sides. “Where is she?”
Salvador raised one dark brow, its thickness interrupted by a scar, in response. “She?”
“Charlotte Ransome. Her presence aboard this ship is the only explanation for the use of the name Charles Lott. Do you know what the penalty for taking her will be?”
“Only if the captain who discovers her aboard this ship decides to let others know he found her here—and that I was not merely providing her safe passage home.” Salvador looked beyond Ned. “Suresh, bring in our guest.”
Ned glanced over his shoulder in time to see the East Indian man exit the cabin. He could not breathe for fear of what he would see when the steward returned.
Charlotte paced the length of the infirmary—not a long distance—and twisted her mobcap in her hands.
“Your Captain Cochrane is young to be a full captain. And somewhat short, as well.”
She paused at Declan’s words. Perched on a barrel, the American first mate was still taller than Charlotte. In the light streaming in from the forward windows, she could well see Declan’s flirtatious grin.
“He is no more than a year or two younger than Captain Salvador. As for his height, at least he is not in constant danger of cracking his skull against the decking. How is your head feeling?”
Declan rubbed the top of his head. “I am well recovered. Thank you for your concern, Miss Ransome.”
She sighed and returned to her pacing—only to be stopped again, this time by the door swinging open to admit Suresh.
“He is ready for you, Miss Ransome.”
Her heart pounded its way up into her throat, and she moved toward the door.
Suresh stepped past her and leaned over to pick something up from the floor. “You decided against the cap?”
Charlotte glanced toward the mobcap—the one she’d been wearing when Salvador took her—which she’d just dropped. “Yes…no…yes…”
Suresh handed it to her. “Take it with you. You may not be allowed to return and retrieve it.”
Charlotte took the cap from him and wadded it in one hand. She stopped him from exiting with a touch on his arm. “If I do not get the chance to say it later, thank you for everything you’ve done for me during my time here. You’ve made my stay as pleasant as possible, and for that I’ll always be grateful.”
“What about me?”
She turned to find Declan standing behind her, hunched over as usual. Though she railed internally against the delay, she could not be rude to him. “Thank you, Mr. Declan, for making my time here…more interesting.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Ransome. Though I’m thinking the captain might put up a fight rather than to let go of his only bargaining chip.”
“Yet I believe Captain Salvador is more of a gentleman than you give him credit for, Mr. Declan.”
He had the audacity to grin at her again. “We shall see, shan’t we?”
“Miss Ransome, he is waiting.”
Grateful for Suresh’s soft reminder, Charlotte whisked out of the infirmary and hurried down the length of the main deck toward the stern. She almost greeted Hamilton and Duncan at the door to the companionway to the half deck, but she remembered in time that she was no longer Charles Lott and they should not recognize her, so she ducked her head as she rushed past them.
Her heart nearly burst when she entered the cabin. Before he turned completely around, Charlotte launched herself at Ned, throwing her arms around his neck. She whispered his name over and over, twining her fingers through his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the floor. She could hardly breathe from the crush of his embrace, but what did breathing matter?
After a forever that did not last long enough, Ned set her on the floor again and, keeping one arm around her, turned to face Salvador.
“You will face charges of kidnapping and assault, Captain Salvador. Miss Ransome’s presence here is all the proof I need.”
Charlotte pulled away from Ned and placed herself between him and Captain Salvador, facing Ned. “But you cannot—we need his help. He has been nothing but courtesy itself since I have been here.”
“Charlotte, he is a pirate. The mere fact he has been pleasant toward you in the few days you have been here does not atone for years of criminal activity.” Ned settled his hands on her shoulders. “I expect the trauma you have experienced is muddling your reason at the present. I must execute my duty as an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
Charlotte shrugged his hands off but tried to maintain a serene expression so Salvador could not see how Ned’s patronizing tone infuriated her. “My reason is not muddled. I can think rationally and clearly as I always have. I understand that Captain Salvador is on the list of pirates you are supposed to hunt down and arrest but…” He would not believe her unless she showed him. She would ask Salvador’s forgiveness later.
She crossed to the trunk full of the clothing for Salvador’s fiancée, knelt before it, and lifted the lid.
“Miss Ransome, what are you—?” Salvador took a few steps toward her and then hesitated when she dug her arms down under the gowns and undergarments and fabrics meant for his future bride.
Her fingers jammed up against the hard edge she sought. With great effort she extricated the large ledgers and then carried them over to the table. “Unless I am mistaken, Captain Salvador has kept an accounting of every ship from which he has ever taken anything. These”—she pointed at the items that had been struck through—“appear to be those which he has already repaid in some manner. In this book,” she opened the second ledger, “he has kept an accounting of the slave ships he has liberated. Now, what kind of pirate repays those from whom he steals and liberates slaves at no profit to himself?”
Ned leaned over the first book and thumbed through several pages. “There seem to be quite a number of entries for ships from Tierra Dulce which have not been crossed out.” He straightened and looked at Salvador. “What is your connection with that plantation?”
Salvador’s expression did not change, but his posture stiffened. Charlotte moved around Ned so she was between them again, this time facing Salvador. Now she would finally find out why Salvador seemed so concerned about Julia and her safety.