The dappled gray skies signaled an approaching gale. The wind buffeted his hair and shirt, and Teach braced himself, the spray from the ocean dampening his face and cheeks. He had a feel for the sea and its moods and he could tell that the approaching storm was a big one, bigger than some of his men had most likely seen.
“Reef the sails,” Teach called out.
Kitts was by Teach’s side in an instant. “Sir, isn’t it too soon? We need to reach the next cay before the storm hits. Perhaps we should wait.”
By now, Teach was used to Kitts questioning his every move, but it still grated on his nerves. “If we don’t reef now, it will be too late.” A significant gust could easily capsize the ship, especially if it heeled over from the wind.
“But, sir,” Kitts continued, walking with Teach as he strode across the slick deck. “The ship will be more protected in the cay—”
Teach rounded on Kitts, his muscles clenched. “A storm is even more dangerous in shallow waters. Waves become steeper and are more likely to break. We have a better chance by riding it out where we are. Now stop questioning me and do as you’re told.”
Kitts’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “Aye, Captain,” he snapped.
“Drop the anchor and heave to!” Teach shouted, continuing across the deck as the crew of the Triumph raced to carry out his orders. It was imperative that they turn, with the helm locked into position and the jib backwinded, so the ship could slowly jog along without turning broadside to the waves.
Anne. He needed to warn her. He hadn’t spent nearly as much time with her as he’d wanted, and she would provide him with a little peace before the storm.
Bracing himself against the railing, Teach descended the stairs, bumping into the wall as the ship rose on a large swell. Opening the door to the captain’s cabin, he stopped, experiencing a sharp pang at the sight before him. John and Anne stood at the window looking out at the rolling waves. John’s arm was around Anne’s waist, lending her support. She’d changed into another one of Teach’s shirts. The collar was large, exposing one of Anne’s slender shoulders, but the back hadn’t been removed. Neither of them had heard his approach.
Teach shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Anne jumped. John’s head whipped around. “It’s getting bad out there,” John said. “We’re in for a rough night.”
“You shouldn’t be up. Do you want to rip the stitches?” Teach asked Anne. He ignored John, not liking the poisonous resentment he felt toward his friend at the moment. It wasn’t as if John had strong feelings for Anne. Unlike Coyle.
Anne’s mouth tightened. “My stitches are fine.”
It had been five days since Teach first sewed Anne up. By now her wounds had scabbed over. It was a good sign that she was mobile, but it wouldn’t do to rush her healing. It would be at least another week before the stitches could be removed.
He knew she hated being stuck in the cabin, but they had no other choice. Giving the room a quick sweep, he noticed that the hammock had been removed from the table. “That is the only thing that will keep you safe.” He grabbed the hammock and proceeded to hang it near the armoire in the room.
“I’m aware of that, but I wanted to take a look before it got too bad out there.”
“John’s needed on deck. Now.”
The hint of a smile touched John’s lips. “Aye, Captain.” Turning to Anne, he gave her arm a squeeze. “I’ll be back later.”
“No you won’t.”
Both Anne and John raised a brow at Teach. Feeling like a fool, he returned their gazes. It had been Teach’s idea to have John keep Anne company while Teach was on deck. Technically, Teach didn’t have to perform any manual duties, but he’d found it the best way to gain his men’s trust. He wouldn’t ask them to do anything that he himself wasn’t prepared to do.
This was the first time that Teach felt torn between the two things he loved most. If he devoted his time to captaining the ship, he neglected Anne. But if he devoted all his time to Anne, he neglected the ship and her crew. He felt much like the Triumph as it prepared to meet the coming storm: unsure of which way to go as the two greatest things in his life warred with each other.
“I’ll see you later, John,” Anne said pointedly.
John left, slanting a grin at Teach before closing the door.
“What was that about?” Anne asked, gripping the table to keep her balance.
“It’s time for him to return to his duties. The entire crew will have to work through the night if we hope to weather this storm.”
“Did you have to be so short with him?”
Teach shrugged, reaching up to ease the cramp of tension at the back of his neck. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Anne held his gaze as she moved toward him. Placing a hand on his chest, she pulled his head down for a kiss. He dropped his hands to her waist, worried he’d undo the very stitches he’d made a fool of himself to keep intact. He had to remind himself that she was still injured, even though she wasn’t making it easy for him.
“There’s no reason for you to be jealous,” Anne whispered in between kisses.
He felt Anne smile against his lips. “Good. And there’s no reason for you to be worried about my stitches. I’ll be careful.”
The ship listed beneath their feet, pushing them closer together. This was not being careful. The storm. The crew. It was time for Teach to leave. Drawing back, he motioned to the hammock swinging behind her. With a sigh, Anne let him clasp her beneath the knees. She kept her back straight as he lifted and then lowered her into the hammock. The sides came up and instantly cocooned her within. Leaning over, he gave her another kiss on the lips. Every touch between them was like a stamp on his soul.
“Stay here.”
Anne shook her head at him. “I’ve been on a ship before, remember? And we weathered many a storm.”
Teach debated telling her about the extent of the approaching squall. He didn’t want to worry her needlessly, but she should be prepared. “Stay here unless I come for you.”
Some of his concern must have shown on his face, because her brows furrowed. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“We’ll get through it.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
• • •
By four bells, the men of the Triumph were soaking wet and exhausted. All hands were on deck and had been for the past hour. There was no sign of the storm lessening. Rain lashed at them like needles, and the drop in temperature caused their limbs to shake and their teeth to chatter.
The bare poles overhead swayed, their canvas tightly rolled to protect the sails from the wind. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the night sky, and the thunder in the distance bellowed its response.
“Teach!” Bent over at the waist and with his stance wide, John attempted to approach Teach, but the wind and lurching deck beneath his feet made it difficult. “We saw a light in the distance.”
Teach wiped the rain from his eyes. “It could have been lightning.”
“It was steady.”
Before Teach could answer, a wave rolled over the deck, sweeping his feet away. The deck slammed upward, smashing into his back. A pained grunt escaped his lungs, but he couldn’t hear it over the roar of the water in his ears.
“John!” he shouted, flailing for something, anything. But the sea was the master, dragging its wayward servant into its eternal prison.
One boot smashed into the railing, sending a bolt of pain clear up to his hip. It hurt like the devil’s hottest poker, but he scrabbled for a handhold. Suddenly he found it, a bit of wood. One hand stable, then the other.
“Teach!”
The voice came from Teach’s left, and he turned toward it, still blinded by the salty spray.
John gave a watery cough, and shouted for his friend once more.
Releasing his grip on the railing, Teach lunged toward the sound. For a moment, his surroundings receded, his entire attention focused on John. As Teach neared, the whites of John’s eyes were all Teach could see as John tried to find some purchase on the deck. The waves bashed relentlessly onto the sides of the Triumph. If any other men noticed or attempted to help, Teach couldn’t tell. Perhaps they were battling to save their own lives.
Just when it appeared that John would be swept overboard, Teach grabbed his friend by the arm, his fingers digging desperately into John’s flesh. Teach was quickly followed by more members of the crew. They heaved and pulled John and Teach to the center of the ship. With a mighty tug, the two collapsed onto the deck, struggling to regain their breath, wet hair hanging in their eyes.
“I guess this means you’re no longer mad at me,” John yelled at length, his voice carrying over the strength of the wind.
Teach gave a shout of laughter. “No, John. I’m not mad at you.”
Drawing a deep breath, John smiled. “Good. Because you’re a fool if you think she’d care for anyone the same way she cares for you.”
Getting to his knees, Teach grimaced as he held out a hand to John. Teach was a fool. But when it came to Anne, he couldn’t seem to control his reactions.
They both struggled to their feet.
“Come. I think you deserve a break.”
John shook his head. “No. I saw a light.”
If it had been anyone else, Teach would have questioned their eyesight. But John was an experienced sailor and wouldn’t make such claims if he wasn’t sure. “You think it was Easton,” Teach said.
“Aye, I do.”
A part of Teach wanted to find Easton immediately. The sooner they found the pirate, the sooner they could return to Nassau and free the others. But another part of him dreaded the upcoming confrontation. If the rumors about the pirate were true, Teach feared that not all of his men would survive the encounter.