The waves crashed against us as we raced over the water, every sail open to full capacity. Now and then, Tristan would ask for a speed measurement, shaking his head in displeasure whenever it wasn’t fast enough. He’d exhibited the same actions all through the night and into the morning as we made chase.
“We need more speed!” he yelled, holding onto some rigging as we passed over a particularly rough section of water.
“We’ve given her all we have, Captain!” James shouted back from the helm. “All that could aid us would be a stronger wind!”
Making a noise of exasperation and rage, Tristan pulled the spyglass from his belt again, looking at the horizon expectantly.
“Sails!”
“Aye, sails!” he exclaimed, echoing the watchman’s cry. “A mile or two ahead!”
“Is it Randall?” I asked, trying to see what they were seeing with my own eyes.
“It’s him,” Tristan responded grimly. “I feel it in my bones.” He looked through the telescope once more, frowning. “How long till we catch him, James?”
“At this rate?” He looked to be adding numbers in his head, his eyes squinting as he looked at the faraway ship. “An hour or two at least. The sea is getting rough, which will make better wind, but will make for hard sailing, Captain.”
“Two hours,” Tristan responded, nodding. “Aye. Men, get ready for a fight!”
They roared back, waving pistols and swords in the air, when the man in the crow’s nest began howling in earnest.
“She’s turning!” he screamed. “Turning right for us!”
Hastily, Tristan retrieved his spyglass again, training it on the ship in the distance. “Cocky,” he muttered, snapping the instrument back to size. “He means to greet us head on and fight, not run.”
“How long till we meet?” I asked breathlessly.
“Maybe half an hour,” he growled, grabbing me by the arm as John began shouting at the crew. “Samantha, I want ye to get in one of the long boats and start back for the last land we passed.”
“What?” I looked at him like he’d suddenly grown two heads, the statement made such little sense to me.
“We are about to have an all out war,” he said urgently. “One or both of these ships is going to be at the bottom of the ocean come nightfall. I’ll not have ye be with it.”
“I can help,” I argued. “I’ve been learning how to fight! I’m part of the crew! You can’t just send me off because it will make you feel better!”
“Please, Samantha,” Tristan urged, fear flashing across his face. “Get in the boat and go. No one will blame ye, no one will even see ye.”
“I’m not leaving,” I replied forcefully. “You agreed to treat me as an equal and let me be part of this crew. I’m not going to run right when everyone needs my support.”
“Ye are my wife,” he barked. “And ye will do as I say, equal or not!”
Yelping as he grabbed my arm, I struggled against him, my feet slipping over the deck as he drove me to the edge and pushed me into a long boat.
“I love ye,” he spoke in earnest, kissing my hand as he shoved me away. “Please forgive me.”
“Tristan, stop,” I said, panicked. “Don’t do this! Let me help!”
“I’m sorry.” He drew his sword, frowning, and sliced the rope that held one end of the boat up.
Screeching, I snatched the seat as the one side began to fall, looking up at him in horror. On the other side, John Butler appeared, severing the rope that would keep me attached to the ship, evening out the fall as I crashed down to the water. The collision rocked the boat over, the wake from the ship pushing me away.
Scrambling to the surface, another wave pulled me under, the long boat flipping once more so it was right side up. My head finally broke water and I grabbed onto the edge, sputtering and wiping my eyes as I watched the Adelina sail away without me. Tristan’s form could still be seen on the deck, staring as I heaved myself inside the boat.
“How could you?” I screamed back at him, tears of anger running down my cheeks, mixing with the saltiness of the ocean. “How could you?”
Water sloshed in the bottom of the boat as I observed him turn away, the two ships closing in on each other.
“Damn pirate,” I growled, sitting down vehemently. Surveying the boat, no land in sight, I tried to think of what to do next. There was a small sail that would be of no use now, the short mast having broken when the boat flipped. Miraculously, there were still oars.
I refused to sit here and watch them all kill each other.
Hurrying around the cramped space, I unfurled the sail, reattaching it to the broken mast, even though it sat much lower and didn’t catch the air as well. Pointing myself in the right direction took a moment, but before I knew it, I was rowing myself with the wind, heading back toward the ship and the captain I very much wanted to stab.
I heard the cannon fire before I saw it, the sound popping out into the air like a gunshot, the whistle of the ball flying through space, before the crack as it smashed into wood, tearing apart everything in its way. The two ships were close enough to fire on each other now, and gaining ground quickly. Adrenaline pumping through me, spurring me on faster, I worried I wouldn’t make it in time to do anything.
When the two parties came side by side, the cannons increased with earnest, the war cries of the men reaching me easily. I was still two ship lengths away as they attached, the grappling hooks yoking the vessels together as men jumped from each to attack. My arms burned from effort, but I amped up my speed again, trying to stay out of the way of the sail so it could catch more wind.
Screams of pain filled my ears, men being knocked overboard in death, blood splattering off the decks and into the water. Carefully, I pulled myself up behind the side of the Adelina, making sure no one was looking down, and flung my body upward, catching one of the ropes that had fallen down when I was cut loose.
Shoving the long boat away with my foot, I climbed up, the rope burning my hands as I slipped some, but I was settling into what I’d come to call my “calm fight mode.” Nothing else mattered in this mindset, not the pain or immense fear. There was only the unruffled calculation and precision to fighting that had saved my life before. Grabbing one of the gun hatches that was partially open, I wiggled through the opening, falling just in front of the cannon, and took in the scene in front of me.
It was a bloodbath. My crew was losing, and badly. The cannons had smashed through this deck, destroying some of our guns and the men working them. Members of the other crew were fighting forcefully with what remained, the floor slick with gore, someone toppling over every few seconds. Smoke from pistol fire hung in the air, as well as the cries of the victorious and the dying.
Suddenly, a struggle started up not far from me and I saw Adam, dueling with a man twice his size. My heart skipped a beat and I froze, feeling the urge to run before my peace settled in fully once more. Looking around, my gaze landed on a pile of cannonballs by my feet and I grabbed one, and rushed forward, screaming.
Adam, hearing my voice, jerked back in alarm, and I took his place, smashing his opponent’s head in with the ball.
“Mrs. O’Rourke,” he stammered in shock. “What are ye doing here?”
Instead of answering, I pulled the sword from the dead man and turned to the next foe, raising the blade with confidence. He smiled coyly, lifting his own weapon, and then charged, a battle cry on his lips.
Moving quickly, I managed to get out of the way, swiping the back of his calf as he passed me. He was too fast, though, and blocked my next stab, facing me with renewed vigor as he realized I was competent.
How long we fought, I didn’t know, but, as I grew more and more tired, my feet began to slip, until, finally, I fell to the deck. The man raised his sword high, triumph on his face, and then halted, staring at the blade sticking out his front. The weapon yanked back and I saw Adam, a disgusted expression on his face.
“Come on,” he yelled, holding his hand out for me.
A cannon fired from the other ship and I watched in horror as it shot through the wall, catching Adam right in the chest and tearing him apart. A scream ripped from me as what was left of my friend dropped, falling on top of me, covering me in blood and gore. Suddenly I couldn’t move, my entire brain shutting down at the sight.
“Every man for himself!” Someone yelled, and I faintly recognized it as Tristan’s voice.
Men were jumping out the gun hatches, running for their lives as the opposing crew cut them down without mercy. Suddenly, everything grew quiet and I closed my eyes, feeling the sting of defeat.
“Captain O’Rourke,” Thomas Randall’s voice thundered from the upper deck. “How wonderful to see you again.”
“Go to hell,” Tristan growled.
“Where’s your little whore?” Randall asked, his tone not even changing. “Jumped ship, has she? I’m not surprised. You should have known better than to let her on here. I knew she was a woman from the very first time I saw her. How stupid did you think we all were, hmmm?”
Tristan didn’t answer and he laughed, followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh.
“Tie him to the mast,” Randall said bitterly. “And then light the ship on fire.”
“Ye’re going to pay for what ye’ve done, Thomas,” Tristan snarled angrily. “Stealing from the Order? Killing all those innocent people?”
“I will pay?” The defiant Black Knight asked in surprise. “No, Captain. It is you who will pay. You see, if you’d just told me where the door to the treasure was, we could have avoided all of this mess. Now you’re tied to the mast of your own ship, your crew is dead, and I have the one man you entrusted your knowledge to.”
There was a muffled sound, followed by what I assumed was a kick, and the men all laughed again.
“Yes, James Abby is just the person I need, don’t you think?” Randall spoke again. “Have fun burning, you bilge sucking failure of a man.”
Pretending to be dead, my eyes closed tightly, I listened as the men left, some of them coming down to my deck first and spreading something around. As soon as they departed, smoke started to fill the air, terror whiplashing through me so fast I almost couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move without knowing they were gone, so I waited, hoping that the flames weren’t anywhere near myself or Tristan.
Finally, cracking an eye open, I could see the enemy ship sailing away through one of the holes in the hull, and I rolled to my feet, slipping again on all the gore, resisting the strong urge to vomit. There was no time to be sick, so I hurried up the stairs, looking at the main mast for Tristan.
He was tied clear from his neck to his feet, his eyes closed as blood dripped from a cut somewhere in his hairline. Behind him, the flames were already eating away at the ship.
“Tristan!” I hissed, not wanting to call attention from the boat that was leaving. When he didn’t move, I inched forward, making sure to stay down and out of the departing pirates’ line of sight. Randall and his crew passed, sailing off in the direction they’d come.
“Tristan!” I called loudly, causing his eyes to pop open in alarm.
“Samantha,” he croaked. “What are ye doing here? Are ye mad?”
“Shut up,” I growled, feeling my anger at him resurfacing.
“Yer hurt,” he said mournfully, looking me over as I worked at the knots tied around him. “Yer going to bleed to death if ye don’t leave and get help now!”
“It’s not my blood,” I snapped, freeing his hands. “Now hurry up and help me with the rest of these.”
He obliged, staring at me from time to time in shock, and I steadily ignored him, watching the flames build behind us. As soon as he was free, I grabbed him by the hand and we ran to the side, jumping off and into the water.
“Captain!”
Confused, I looked around, treading the water I was muddying with all of the filth I’d accumulated. There were bodies floating around us, but—there, just off to the side. John Butler and a few of the surviving men had found my long boat and were waving us over.
“Come on,” I said to Tristan, pointing. “Let’s get out of here.”
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 55
