Chapter 7

 

A pair of wide brown eyes, streaked with terror, stared up at Noah. He shook his head. The woman amazed him. The last place he would have expected to find Miss Denton was hiding in his sleeping cabin. And for the life of him, he could find no reason for it, save one, which would be an impossibility.

“Pardon me, Noah. I seem to have gotten lost.” The fear fled her eyes, replaced by her usual lofty manner as she attempted to brush past him.

“A condition you seem to be making a habit of aboard my ship.” He moved to block her. A chuckled erupted from his throat.

She planted her hands on her waist. “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

Seafoam jumped onto Noah’s bed and plopped down, eyeing them both.

Noah set the lantern down and leaned on the door frame. A grin overtook his lips as he realized he could have some fun with this awkward situation. “On the contrary, finding you so close to my bed in the middle of the night is quite amusing, or should I say, rather pleasing.” He winked.

Her chest heaved. Her gaze flitted about the tiny room, avoiding him entirely. A red hue crept up her neck onto her face like a rising tide.

She lifted a hand as if she were going to push him, but when her eyes met his bare chest, she seemed to think better of it. “If you please, Noah, I need some air.”

He stepped aside before she swooned. Then grabbing the lantern, he followed her out into his cabin and placed it atop his desk. He faced her, searching his memory of his conversation with Mr. Heaton for anything the lady should not have overheard.

“Good night, Noah.” She kept her head lowered and headed for the door, but he darted in front of her. “Not just yet, Miss Denton.”

She backed away. “I am tired and wish to retire now.” The scent of her lavender soap swirled around him

“Then why are you in my cabin?” Noah lowered his head to peer into her face, but she kept her gaze upon the deck.

“If you insist on keeping me here, would you at least do me the honor of donning your shirt?”

He chuckled. That she was an innocent did not surprise him. That his unclad chest affected her, he found oddly pleasing.

“Are you quite sure, Miss Denton?” He quirked a brow.

She raised her chin, her face twisting in disdain as another flood of crimson blossomed over it. “How dare you?”

“Perhaps you cannot wait for our wedding night?”

Her brown eyes simmered. “Why you insufferable cad” She raised her hand to slap him.

He caught it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss, eyeing her with delight.

She studied him then released a sigh. “You tease me, sir.” Snatching her hand from his, she stepped back. “But what would I expect from you?”

Moving to the chair he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. His glance fanned over his desk where his chart had been and he spun around. “You. You ruined my chart.”

She averted her gaze and began twisting her ring. “Why would I do that?”
Brown curls swayed in disarray around a fresh bandage devoid of blood. Her lips pressed in their usual petulant manner, and her petite nose pinked as it always did when she was distraught.

“To force me to return to Baltimore, perhaps?” He took a step toward her. She retreated.

Then squaring her shoulders, she placed her hands atop her rounded hips. “Who is Priscilla?”

Noah couldn’t help but grin. So she had heard their conversation. Shame settled over him, but he shrugged it off. He had done nothing wrong. “A friend.”

“How dare you toss your affections to another when you are engaged to me.”

“I can assure you, miss. I never toss my affections anywhere.”

 

♦♦♦

 

Marianne studied him. A word of truth at last, for she doubted the man cared for anyone but himself. Then why was she behaving the jealous shrew? His thick chest peeked out from within his open shirt. The sight of it befuddled her mind. How could she think clearly with his firm muscles staring her in the face?

Yet something else caused unease to clamp over her nerves. Why wasn’t Noah furious with her for ruining his map? Instead of chastising her and tossing her from his cabin, he seemed to find the incident amusing.

Which only further infuriated her.

He sat back against his desk and released a ragged sigh, then rubbed the back of his neck as if he had the weight of the world sitting upon it. Agnes’s words regarding his burden resurfaced in Marianne’s thoughts and she wondered for a moment what was troubling him.

She should leave. She knew she should leave. Especially now that he no longer blocked her way, but perhaps she could garner some useful information.

“Why do you work so hard for your father?”

His eyes widened. Finally he said, “Unlike you, I wasn’t born to privilege. I must work to survive.”

“I cannot help the situation of my birth.” She huffed. “But you can cease holding it against me.”

He tilted his head and examined her as if he could not fathom what she said. “Fair enough,” he conceded with a semblance of a grin.

Marianne glanced at the closed door and realized how improper it was for her to be alone with him in his cabin. Yet aside from her reputation—which she doubted any one on board would care to sully with gossip—the only thing in danger was her pride from his continual insults.

The ship rose over a wave, and she raised a hand to the wall to keep from stumbling. “I don’t know how you tolerate this constant teetering. If not for these walls, we would all be thrashed to and fro with each wave.”

“Bulkheads.”

“Oh, who cares?” She huffed. Releasing the wall, she balanced her way to one of the chairs closest to the door and sat down. “I’ve seen little of you for eleven years. Your father would visit quite often before my father died, but you were never with him.”

“I was at sea.”

Marianne nodded, remembering the event that had sent him there. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”

He snapped his gaze away and stood, turning his back to her. “It was a long time ago.”

“Unlike you, he was always kind to me.”

Noah’s back stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, Jacob was kind to everyone. Generous, wise and. . .” He faced her and shrugged. “Well, everything I am not.”

Though she could not argue with his statement, Marianne’s heart sank at the look of agony on his face. Word around town was that Jacob had died in an accident aboard a ship. Though she longed to know the details of his death, the anger and despair etched on Noah’s countenance silenced her.

Her own sorrow at her father’s death remained an open wound on her heart. Perhaps they could find some common ground on that alone. “I understand your pain.”

His tight expression softened, but the hard look in his eyes remained. “I am sorry for your loss, as well, Miss Denton, but I doubt you understand what I have suffered.”

Marianne tugged on a lock of hair, her ire surging with the rise of the ship over another swell. “I understand the loss of someone you love, Noah. Will you credit that to my account or do you hold a monopoly on grief?”

He snorted. “You may suffer as you wish, miss.”

“How kind of you,” she retorted then chided herself. There was no sense in lowering her behavior to his reprehensible level. Besides, it was obvious he still felt the sting of his brother’s death. Until that dreadful day, the Brenin twins had been inseparable. “My mother tells me God brought her the comfort she needed when my father passed. Perhaps you should pray?”

“You may also do the praying, as you wish.”

“You don’t believe in God?”

“I believe He exists. I simply don’t think about Him often. Nor do I think He considers me.” The muscles in Noah’s neck tightened. “I have discovered it best to keep myself out of the focus of the Almighty’s scope, lest I displease Him in some way and suffer the consequences.”

Sorrow burned in Marianne’s throat. Such a low opinion of God. “Surely you don’t believe that. God will bring you comfort, Noah. And hope for the future.” She twisted the ring on her finger. Did she believe that? Yes. God had indeed comforted her and her mother. She had felt His presence during their grief. She knew He was real. But in truth, her hope was not in this world. In this life, she had lost all trust that God would work things out for good as He said in His Word. Even so, it broke her heart to see Noah so far from the only One who could help him.

“He can lead you and guide you,” she went on. “Grant you wisdom and show you His plan for your life.”

“There is no plan, Miss Denton. The sooner you strike that thought from your mind, the sooner you will start to live your own life.” He gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles grew white. “No, a man makes his own plan, his own destiny. As I am making mine.”

“And doing so well at it.” Marianne straightened her back. “Pray tell, once you have my fortune, will you continue to exhaust yourself year after year, piling up wealth to supply your endless pride?”

“You find me greedy?” He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling as if he found delight in her insult. But hadn’t he always responded to her attempts to inflict pain on him with the same insolent laughter? As if she were of so little importance that she could not possibly affect him at all.

“You don’t know me, Miss Denton.”

“Then why marry a woman you don’t love? To do so only to please your father seems unlike someone who is so”—she paused, searching for the right word, and upon finding none chose the first one that had come to mind—“self-centered.”

The lantern flickered, casting golden flecks on the tips of his hair. He scratched his chin, this time not laughing at her barb. “There is much you don’t know.”

“Pray tell, enlighten me, since I am to be your prisoner for months.”

“Prisoner? I am crushed.” He laid a hand on his heart even as one side of his lips curved in a mocking grin. “I prefer to call you an unwilling passenger.”

“You may prefer all you wish, Captain, but that does not make you correct.”

“Your wit has improved with age.”

“Yours has not.” Marianne remembered Noah and Luke’s conversation about her pluck. “But I am happy to entertain you.”

“It was Luke who remarked so. Me? I fail to find pleasure in your company, princess.” He lowered his gaze but not before she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. Nevertheless, His words cut deep—deeper than she would have expected. Why was she subjecting herself to his cruelty?

She rose to find her legs unsteady. “It was you who insisted I stay in your cabin.”

“To discover the depth of your traitorous activities.” His grin had returned but it lacked its usual luster.

“Since that has been established, I shall relieve you of my company.” Marianne swung around.

“Established, you say?” He chuckled. “The only things we have established are that my chart is ruined and that you seem to enjoy lurking about a man’s chamber in the middle of the night.”

She swerved about. “How dare you! What are you implying?”

One dark eyebrow rose and he gave an innocent shrug. “Nothing. But if you didn’t come here to ruin my chart, what am I to think?”

“You insufferable rogue.” Marianne narrowed her eyes, then swung about.

“Good night, Miss Denton.”

“Good night, Mr. Brenin.” She opened the door.

His blaring voice halted her. “And rest assured, I fully intend to keep my cabin locked in the future.”

 

♦♦♦

 

Noah spread his new chart atop his desk. Morning sunlight sprinkled glistening particles of dust across it as he pinned the corners down with the instruments he’d found stuffed beneath his mattress. He chuckled. He had to give the woman credit. She didn’t give up and accept her fate as most women would. Persistent and stubborn. Just like when she was a little girl.

Straightening his stance, he threw his arms over his head and stretched. Exhaustion tugged on his eyes. After Miss Denton had left, he’d barely slept an hour. And that hour had been fraught with nightmares—visions of raging seas and black angry skies, of yards high above the deck flung effortlessly to and fro by the screaming wind, of blood on the planks below.

His brother’s blood.

He patted the handkerchief in his pocket and shook his head, trying to dislodge the tormenting memories. But the pain in his heart felt as raw as it had the day of the tragedy. The day Noah lost his will to live.

Why, when Noah spent so much of his energy keeping his past buried had Miss Denton so carelessly brought it to mind? Yet he also could not shake the pained look in her eyes at his cruel remarks. But he had no choice. Blast it all. He’d truly enjoyed their conversation. The sympathy beaming from those brown eyes had caught him off guard. She did understand his pain—perhaps not the depth of it—but her concern had broken down some invisible wall between them. Then all her talk of God, not preachy, but out of true concern for him. He had felt his defenses weaken. And he couldn’t allow that to happen. She must be the one to break off their engagement. It was the only way for her to save face and for Noah to appease his father. Then with the added wealth this trip would bring, everyone would be happy. Perhaps he could even consider a courtship with Miss Priscilla in South Hampton.

He pictured the lady in his mind. With curves in all the right places and hair of golden silk, she was the picture of feminine beauty and charm. The daughter of a wealthy solicitor, she carried none of the pretensions and snobbery one would expect of someone of her class. Although Noah had no formal understanding with Miss Priscilla and he’d only spent a few short days with her, he sensed she was as enthralled with him as he was with her. Her father did, however, require that any suitors must be worth at least one thousand pound a year before he would agree to a courtship.

A sum Noah could make no boast of. Not yet.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Then there was his own father—who would disapprove of Miss Priscilla based solely on the fact that Noah chose her. Another disappointment credited to his ledger. A debt that if Noah could not settle soon, would prohibit him from ever being able to make his own decisions. Which was why he desperately needed this voyage to be successful.

Rap rap rap

“Enter,” Noah said. Matthew ambled in, a tray in hand. The sting of rum-laced tea and stale biscuits greeted Noah’s nose as the older man set down his load.

“Apologies sent from my misses, Cap’n, but she’s a bit indisposed. ’Fraid ye’re going t’ have t’ do with this simple fare this morning.”

“Indisposed?” Noah’s alarm rose. He circled the desk. Usually a vision of robust health, Agnes rarely took ill.

“A slight fever, is all.” Matthew yanked his hat from his bald head. “Miss Denton attends to ’er.”

“Miss Denton?” Noah assumed she’d still be tucked in her bed at this early hour.

Grabbing his waistcoat from the back of the chair, Noah thrust his arms through the sleeves, then lifted the mug and took a sip of tea. The taste soured in his mouth. He liked his tea with sugar but that was a luxury they could ill afford.

Matthew shifted his bare feet over the floor and stared at Noah.

“Thank you, Matthew. Is there something else?”

“’Bout Miss Denton.” Matthew’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “If I may speak wit’ ye.”

Noah puffed out a sigh. Miss Denton again. He had hoped to occupy his mind elsewhere today.

“I ’eard her cryin’ last night in her cabin.” Accusation fired from his voice.

The sails thundered above as they shifted in the wind, the sound pounding Noah’s guilt deep into his heart. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Leaning back on his desk, he sipped his tea, suddenly wishing he could drown himself in it.

“The Mrs. was speakin’ t’ me ’bout her. Poor girl’s mother is ill an’ she’s needed at home.”

“I realize that, Matthew.” Shrugging off his remorse, Noah tightened his lips. “But I have a schedule to keep and cannot alter it for the actions of one foolish girl. I’ll bring her home in three months. Her mother will not suffer overmuch during that time. In fact, she appeared quite well the day of the engagement party.” Noah set down his mug and began strapping on his belt. “Besides, I fear Miss Denton will use any excuse she can to get me to return her home.”

“Even so, Cap’n. Her poor mother will be worried sick over what happened t’ her.”

“Considering that Miss Denton darted down the street after me, I’m sure she will solve the puzzle soon enough.” Noah had no time for such nonsense. Blast the woman for weaving her way into Hobbs’s sentiments.

Matthew tossed his hat down and eyed Noah with more authority than his position allowed. “What’s this all about, Noah? It is not like you t’ be so cruel and selfish.”

Noah studied the man who had been more of a father to him than his own. “Trust me, Matthew, I am not proud of my behavior. But it serves a higher purpose.”

“If yer talkin’ about God, I doubt He has much t’ do wit’ it.”

God again. “No. I’m referring to a plan which will free both Miss Denton and me from a marriage neither of us desires.”

“So.” Matthew folded his beefy arms across his belly. “You’re being cruel to her for her own good, eh?”

“Precisely.” Noah buttoned his waist coat and snapped the hair from his face. It was true after all. Along with aiding his plan to break free from his father’s control.

A ray of sunlight stroked Matthew’s bald head, making him look almost angelic, despite his formidable frame. His dark eyes narrowed into pinpoints of judgment. “I’ve known you for many years, Noah. And you’re a good man deep down in there.” He pointed at Noah’s chest. “’Bout time you figure that out for yourself and did the right thing.”

 

♦♦♦

 

Still steaming over Matthew’s rebuke, Noah strode toward the man’s cabin where Agnes rested. He shouldn’t allow his boatswain such liberties with his opinion. Noah was captain after all. But the old man had been there countless times when Noah needed fatherly advice. How could he turn him away simply because his advice was not what Noah wished to hear?

He knocked on the door. A female voice bade him enter and he opened it to see Agnes lying in bed, her glazed eyes peering at him from within a puffy face, flush with fever. At her feet, Seafoam lay curled in a ball. Beside her, Miss Denton sat dabbing a cloth over her forehead. Marianne’s eyes swept over him before she quickly returned to her ministrations. No greeting? He could hardly blame her after his behavior the night before.

“Noah.” Agnes smiled. “What brings you here?”

“To inquire after your health, of course.” Noah took a step inside and was assailed with the stale smell of infirmity. “I heard you were not feeling well.”

Miss Denton wrung the cloth out in a basin of water.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll live.” Agnes tried to laugh but it came out as a cough. She tugged at the lace of her nightdress that appeared to have a stranglehold on her neck. “Just a wee bit hot and me stomach’s twistin’ and turnin’.”

“Is there something I can get you?” Noah wove around the bed and drew a chair on the other side from where Miss Denton sat. Seafoam pried open her sleepy eyes to look his way.

“No thank you, my boy. Marianne has been an angel, takin’ care o’ me all through the night.”

Through the night? Noah gazed at Miss Denton as she laid a cloth over Agnes’s forehead.

“I apologize, Noah, for not makin’ yer breakfast,” Agnes said.

Noah took her hand. “Madam, you think that concerns me? The crew will make do. All that matters is that you get well.” Her hand felt warm, but not too warm. He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. Hot, but he’d felt worse. His alarm dissipated.

Only then did Miss Denton look at him with the most peculiar stare before she quickly averted her eyes.

The ship pitched and her eyes widened a moment. A sail snapped above.

Rising, Seafoam stretched and made her way to Noah, jumping into his lap. The old cat had been a gift from their father to both Noah and Jacob on their first crossing to England nearly fourteen years ago. A kitten at the time, she had grown up on this ship, knew every crevice and cranny, and had feasted on her fair share of rats. Noah scratched beneath her chin, and Seafoam stretched her neck upward and purred in response. This old cat and the handkerchief in his pocket were the last things Noah had that had belonged to Jacob.

Agnes squeezed his hand, jarring him from his thoughts. “Order Marianne to her cabin to get some rest, Noah. She’s been here all night.”

“Order her?” Noah chuckled. “I don’t believe anyone can order Miss Denton to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Marianne’s lips lifted at one corner, and she favored him with a sly glance before facing Agnes. “I am well, Agnes. When you rest, I will rest right here beside you, in case you should need anything.”

“You are too good to me, dear.” An exchange of affection passed between Agnes and Miss Denton that caused Noah to shift in his seat. For a woman accustomed to ordering servants about to please her every whim, Miss Denton’s care for this dear sweet woman was quite baffling.

And Noah didn’t like it one bit.

 

♦♦♦

 

Emerging from the companionway, Marianne slid her shoes tentatively onto the upper deck. She’d been avoiding coming above, loathe to face the endless sea. But after spending two nights and three days in the stagnant, sickly air of Agnes’s cabin, she risked confronting her fears in order to get a breath of fresh air. Thankfully, Agnes’s fever had abated, and she slept soundly now. She’d be back to her old self soon.

Noah truly cared for Agnes. Marianne had seen it in his eyes as he held her hand. She had heard it in the soft tone with which he addressed her. And Seafoam. Marianne had never seen a man so affectionate with a cat. And a cat so attached to her master. She began to think there was more to this man than she first assumed. Yet that did not change the fact that he did not wish to marry her. Nor that he planned to do so out of obligation to his father. At least she hoped that was still his plan. That he harbored feelings for another woman didn’t bode well on that front.

Fatigue hung on her shoulders and weighted down her eyelids.

Squinting against the afternoon sun that sat a hands breadth above the horizon, Marianne made her way to the round object they used to heave the anchor, bracing herself against the surge and roll of the ship as she went. Somehow the vessel’s constant sway seemed less dangerous below where if the ship canted and she tumbled out of control, the walls could break her fall. But here above deck, what would stop her from toppling overboard? She gripped the wooden heaving tool and drew in a deep breath of the stiff breeze that swept past her, bringing with it a hint of salt and fish.

Sailors scampered by, tipping their hats in her direction as they passed. Shielding her eyes, she glanced above where men lumbered over the yards with as much ease as if they strolled along Market Street. Another blast of wind rushed over her, cooling the perspiration on her neck. Forcing down her fear, she dared a glance at the vast waters that held the tiny ship captive. Azure blue waves spread to a glowing horizon, each swell capped with golden crystals of sunlight. The ship bucked and a salty spray showered over her. She jerked back, brushing the drops from her arms.

“Miss Denton,” A deep voice startled her, and she turned to see Mr. Weller standing beside her. “Good afternoon t’ ye.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We haven’t seen much of you above deck these past few days.” He adjusted the red scarf that seemed to be permanently attached to his neck.

“I’ve been attending Mrs. Hobbs.”

“Aye, we ain’t got a decent meal in quite some time. I hope she gets well soon.” He frowned. “Not that I only care about me food. She’s a kindly lady, too.”

“Never fear, she’s recovering.”

He gazed toward the horizon. “The sea is beautiful in the afternoon. If you come t’ the foredeck it feels like yer a bird, flyin’ across the water.” He gestured for her to follow him.

“Oh no, I couldn’t, Mr. Weller.” She swallowed. “I’m perfectly saf—I mean content here.”

He cocked his head and a slow smile spread on his lips. “Yer afraid of water?”

She gave him a sheepish grin, wondering if she should confide in him. Despite his scarred face, nothing but sincerity shone from his brown eyes. And he had always been kind to her. She leaned toward him. “Dreadfully.”

The ship bucked and he placed a hand atop hers, “Nothin’ to be feared about, miss. This ship is the sturdiest craft as ever I sailed.”

“But ships like these do sink, do they not?”

“Aye, from time t’ time.” He doffed his hat and scratched his thick head of charcoal-black hair.

A wonderful idea planted itself in her mind. This man must know a great deal about ships—especially this particular one. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Mr. Weller. “I’ll brave the foredeck if you’ll explain just how sound this ship really is.”

He extended his arm. “Ye’ve got a bargain, miss.”

 

♦♦♦

 

Noah sprang onto the deck to the sound of feminine laughter. His eyes soon discovered the source. At the bow of the ship stood Miss Denton and Mr. Weller, of all people. Her, gripping the railing. Him, steadying her with a hand on her back. They held their heads together as if they were old friends.

An uncomfortable feeling skittered across Noah’s back. What would Miss Denton and Mr. Weller find in common to discuss so intimately? Why, Mr. Weller rarely spoke to anyone since Noah rescued him from St. Kitts and gave him a job aboard the Fortune.

Forcing down his annoyance, Noah took the ladder to his position on the quarterdeck. After greeting Mr. Pike, who was positioned at the helm, he stood at the stanchions with hands clasped behind his back. He attempted to divert his gaze to the sea, but his traitorous eyes made their way back to Miss Denton and Mr. Weller. Where most women would cringe at the man’s deformities, she treated him as if he were the Earl of Buckley dropping over for tea.

Wasn’t it enough he’d been forced to witness her kindness toward Agnes? Now this? Why, sooner or later he might have to admit he admired the lady. And that would not aid his plans in the least. Not in the least.

 

♦♦♦

 

Marianne smiled at her new friend. No longer noticing the rippled skin on the left side of his face or his missing fingers. “So there’s nothing that can penetrate the ship’s hull save a massive rock or a cannon shot?”

“That be correct, miss. Unless”—he winked—“you were to take an ax to it, I suppose.”

Which she would never do. The last thing she wanted was to cause the ship to sink. “And what of these ropes?” Releasing her death grip on the railing, Marianne clung to one of the massive lines that stretched taut up to a sail above. But she already knew the answer. Nearly as thick as her wrist and covered with tar, it would take hours to slice through with a knife.

Mr. Weller grinned. A single gold tooth twinkled in the setting sun. “Nay, these lines are fast and hard. Nothin’ can break them ’sides a heavy ax or grape shot. Besides, ye’d have to sever more than one o’ them to do any damage.”

The ship pitched and with it, Marianne’s heart. She clutched the railing with both hands again and tried not to look down at the foamy water sliced by the bow of the ship. Without access to the captain’s cabin, she must find another way to disable the vessel.

She gazed upward. “And the sails?”

“Sturdy as steel cloth. Nothing but fire or the blast from a ship’s gun could penetrate them.”

Marianne bit her lip. Neither would suffice without endangering the crew, and she couldn’t do that.

“You are a kind lady, miss.” Mr. Weller smiled and ran a thumb down the scar on his face. “Most women avoid speakin’ t’ me.” He shrugged and stared at the churning water at the bow. “I suppose my appearance scares ’em.”

Marianne’s heart shrank. Though she had no disfigurement, how often had she been slighted in favor of more beautiful ladies? She raised a haughty chin. “Then, I dare say, they are missing out on knowing a very knowledgeable, courteous, and chivalrous gentleman.”

“Gentleman?” He guffawed. “Ain’t never been considered to be such.”

She smiled at his easy manner, then grew serious. “May I be so bold as to ask what happened to you?”

He tugged his scarf up as if suddenly self-conscious of his scar. A sail above them thundered in an ominous snap. “I was a gunner’s mate onboard the British warship, the Hibernia, of one hundred and ten guns”—he took a deep breath—“an’ durin’ a battle wit’ a French frigate, our gun exploded. I lost three o’ me fingers and a scrap of hot lead struck me face.”

Marianne’s stomach grew queasy. “How horrible.”

“Three other sailors lost their lives, includin’ a young powder boy who was no more ’an thirteen.”

“Thirteen.” Marianne’s head began to spin. She could not imagine the horrors of enduring a battle at sea, let alone such a tragedy. The glaze of painful memories clouded Mr. Weller’s eyes and she longed to take his pain away, to say how sorry she was, but words failed her.

“Aye. They say the gun deck is the most dangerous place to be durin’ battle.”

The ship rose, then plunged over a swell. Seawater misted over her. Normally, she would find it refreshing from the heat, but to her, it seemed like spit from the mouth of a monster.

Mr. Weller’s hand pressed against her back to steady her. Though she rarely allowed any man such liberties, she appreciated his strong support and felt no threat from his touch.

“So you see, there’s naught to be ’fraid of. Unless we end up in a battle with a warship.” He chuckled. “Unlikely since we are simple merchantmen.”

“Then why does the captain arm the ship?” Marianne gestured behind her toward the three cannons that lined the top deck on each side and the two that perched off the stern.

“Just for defense, miss, I assure ye.”

Marianne released a ragged sigh. It sounded as if the only way to prevent Noah from reaching England would be an enemy attack. And even if she could arrange that, it wouldn’t bode well for any of them. Her hope dwindling, she gazed out at sea, squinting at the setting sun. Perspiration slid down her back. Out there, beyond the sun, was her precious country, her precious city, her precious home. And every swell they traversed meant they were that much farther away. Mother, I’m trying to come home. Fear tightened her chest. Would Lizzie be able to care for Mama without Marianne? Who would do the cooking, the mending? Who would administer Mama’s medicines? She faced Mr. Weller and offered a conciliatory half-smile.

“Indeed, Mr. Weller, it does sound as though the ship is indestructible.”

“Aye, as I’ve told you. Unless we come under attack or a squall disables the rudder, ain’t nothing will stop us from reaching our destination.”

“The rudder? How would I…I mean how could that happen?”

He leaned on the railing. The sails above cast half of his face in shadows while the sun cast a golden glint on the other half. His brown eyes so full of life found hers. With a strong jaw and cheekbones, he could be considered a handsome man, if one could ignore his scars. Which she found increasingly easy to do. And he was young. She guessed he couldn’t be older than thirty years.

“A shot to the rudder would do it.” He smiled. “Or running aground during a storm, or by the strain o’ a storm on the wheel. Or I suppose someone could chop through the tiller ropes, but I don’t see why anyone aboard would do that.”

“Why not?” Marianne dared not hope.

“That would leave us unable to steer, save by the sails, and that would be difficult.” He glanced above. “O’ course that can be repaired right quick.”

She bit her lip. “Then it seems as though we are destined for England.”

“The captain’s a driven man when he’s got a cargo full of goods. No, I expect the only thing that would turn ’im around is if he lost his cargo somehow and had nothin’ to sell.”

Lost his cargo.

Marianne’s heart leapt. She smiled. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? What reason would Noah have to continue to England if he had no goods to sell?

If his precious cargo met with some unforeseen disaster?