Surrender the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Oh, why hadn’t she simply jumped overboard? Wouldn’t it have been better to drown than suffer her present fate? She had wanted to. Had desperately wanted to trust Noah.

  I am a coward. A coward who trusts no one.

  The ship bucked and she braced her feet against the deck. A gust of brine-scented wind whipped her hair and cooled the perspiration on her neck. Above her, the sun inched toward its high command for the day. The captain would be wanting his noon meal soon. His commands blared across the ship from his position on the quarterdeck. No doubt he was still furious about the escape.

  She couldn’t help but smile. But it quickly faded as a vision of the pleading look on Noah’s face crossed her mind. He said he’d come back for her.

  But as the island slunk below the horizon and dropped out of sight—just as Noah had done over the railing—she knew that would not be possible. Even if he connected with his merchant ship, even if he could convince his men to pursue the HMS Undefeatable, Noah’s ship was no match for a British frigate. That much she had learned.

  Besides, who would try to defeat a ship named Undefeatable?

  Especially to free an ordinary woman like her.

  No. There would be no rescue party coming to save her. She was destined to serve Captain Milford aboard this ship of horrors for as long as God determined. And from the looks of things, that may be a long time indeed.

  Unless, of course, she was hanged for aiding in the mens’ desertion.

  Lieutenant Garrick’s threat reignited her fear. She would do her best to avoid being alone with him, but eventually he would trap her. That too, she must accept.

  The captain barked at her and headed down the quarterdeck stairs. Releasing the mast, Marianne turned, all life and hope draining out of her feet onto the deck as she followed him below.

  ♦♦♦

  Noah clutched Matthew’s hand and swung over the bulwarks. Planting his sandy feet on the deck—his deck, the deck of the Fortune—he embraced his friend. “I knew I could count on you.”

  The man’s bald head gleamed in the morning sun nearly as bright as his smile. “Alls we had to do was follow you. I knew ye’d find a way to escape sooner or later.”

  “How did you find us?” Noah and his men had been hiding in a clump of trees on the southwest side of Antigua, living off coconut milk and crabs for three days.

  Luke clambered over the railing, followed by Weller, Blackthorn, and Daniel.

  “I figured if you escaped when the ship anchored, you’d be somewhere away from the Brits hiding amongst the trees. All I had to do was sail real slow-like around the island ’til I spotted your signal fire.” He winked.

  Noah stretched his back, still raw from the flogging.

  Daniel’s eyes lit up. “So this is your ship, Mr. Noah?”

  “Yes, it is.” He tousled the boy’s hair and scanned the deck as his crew swamped him with greetings.

  “We thought you was gone for sure, Cap’n,” Mr. Rupert said.

  “Good to have you back, sir,” Mr. Pike shouted.

  “What’s it like on one of them British frigates?” another sailor asked.

  “Thank you all.” Noah scanned his men. “Not a pleasant experience, I assure you.”

  Blackthorn eased beside Noah and shook the water from his hair, reminding Noah of a wet bear. “Nice ship, Brenin.”

  Noah smiled.

  “Weller made it back without losing any more of his fingers!” Mr. Rupert said, and they all chuckled.

  Agnes emerged from the crowd and absorbed Noah in her fleshy arms, nearly squeezing the life from him. “I was so worried about you, son.” She held him back and took a good look at him. Noah felt a blush rising up his neck.

  “A bit skinny, but you look well.” She slapped his belly then glanced over at Luke and the others. “Where’s Miss Denton?”

  Noah opened his mouth to tell her, but the words withered on his lips.

  “We had to leave her behind.” Luke frowned.

  “You what?” Her face grew puffy and her eyes sharp. She faced Noah. “You did what?”

  “It couldn’t be helped, Agnes.” The breeze tore his words away as if they bore no weight.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “That poor dear. All alone on that enemy ship.”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am.” Daniel sidled up to the large woman. “We’re going to go rescue her, aren’t we, Mr. Noah?”

  “That we are.” Noah said with as much conviction as he could muster. Problem was, he didn’t know how.

  “And who might this be?” Agnes drew Daniel into the folds of her skirt.

  “My son, Daniel.” Blackthorn ran a sleeve over his forehead and stood tall. He exchanged a look with Noah and Luke. “Feels good to be able to claim the lad as my own.”

  Agnes pushed Daniel’s hair from his face. “Why, you sweet boy. What were you doin’ on that ship?”

  “God’s work, ma’am.” Daniel smiled up at her.

  “An’ I’d say he fared better than the rest o’ us because of it.” Weller tugged at the scarf around his neck and laughed—the first laugh Noah had heard the man utter since they’d been impressed by the British.

  “Indeed.” Daniel’s prophesy of rescue leapt into Noah’s mind, and he eyed the boy curiously. Coincidence? Or did the lad truly hear from God? But he didn’t have time to ponder it now. Marianne was in trouble. “Haul in the boat!” he ordered. “We set sail immediately.”

  Luke began braying orders to the crew, sending them scampering across the deck.

  Noah turned to his boatswain. “What is the status of the ship, Matthew?”

  Matthew scratched his bald head. “We dumped all the rice and flour that got wet, cap’n. Still got the cloth we can sell. But as far as sailin’ goes, she’s fit as a fiddle.”

  “Good.” Noah nodded and glanced at the glistening shores of Antigua a mile off their larboard side then shifted his gaze to the endless turquoise sea. His gut twisted in a knot. Agnes’s sorrowful eyes met his, and he knew her thoughts must also be of Marianne.

  “Never fear, Agnes, I’ll get her back.”

  She pursed her lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Noah.” Then with a swipe to rid her face of tears, she gathered Daniel close and led him away. “I bet you’re a might starved too, little man.”

  Later, in his cabin, with his belly full, Noah leaned back on his desk and faced a line of his men. Luke, Matthew, Mr. Weller, Mr. Pike, Mr. Boone, Blackthorn and Daniel.

  Mr. Pike shuffled his feet. “This is self-destruction, Cap’n.” He kneaded the hat in his hands. “The crew ain’t sure they want to be a part of it.”

  Noah shifted his back, glad to be out of the filthy garb the British had given him to wear and back into his own clothes. Rays of morning sun angled in through the stern windows, creating spears of glittering dust through the air.

  “We can still make some money with the goods left in the hold.” Mr. Boone’s voice lifted in enthusiasm. “The trip won’t be a complete loss.”

  Seafoam arched her back and rubbed against Noah’s side. He picked her up and scratched her head, surprised that he’d actually missed the cat.

  Matthew shook his head. “I like Miss Denton too, Noah, but chasin’ after a British frigate with no plan as to how to rescue the lady, why it be sheer madness.”

  “You’ll get us all killed.” Weller scratched the scar on his face and muttered to himself. “Or worse, impressed again.”

  Blackthorn nodded. “I know I’m not a part of this crew, but I’ve been on that frigate long enough to know there’s no way to get close enough to get Miss Denton off without waking their broadside.”

  Setting the cat down, Noah folded his hands over his chest, fighting back a wave of frustration. “Yet we got off.”

  “Aye, in a British port.” Blackthorn scratched the hair sprouting from the collar of his shirt. “It’s the only time the frigate won’t be guarded so heavily. Now, that we’re at war, we won’t be able to get within a stone’s
throw of a British port should the HMS Undefeatable anchor in one again.”

  Seafoam sauntered over to Daniel.

  Noah gripped the edge of his desk until his fingers hurt. Blackthorn was right. They were all right. Then why did everything within him scream in defiance. He gazed at Luke, who stood eyeing them all, unusually silent. The bruises on his face had faded to yellow.

  “’Sides,” Mr. Boone joined in. “I hear the lady won’t go in the water. How are we to rescue her? Sprout wings?”

  “Impossible.” Blackthorn shook his head and gave Noah a sympathetic look

  Daniel picked up Seafoam and gazed up at his father. “But, Pa, nothing’s impossible with God.”

  “Hush lad.” Blackthorn put a hand atop Daniel’s head. “And from what I’ve seen, Noah, you don’t have more than eight guns onboard. Four pounders at that.”

  Frustration bubbled in Noah’s stomach. “What do you say, Mr. Heaton?”

  Luke grinned, then shrugged one shoulder. “I say we have a lady to rescue.”

  “That’s the spirit, Mr. Luke!” Daniel cuddled the cat to his chest, and Noah could hear the deep rumble of her purrs from where he sat.

  Well at least Noah had one man and a boy on his side. And a cat.

  “Have the both of you gone mad?” Matthew shifted his wide eyes between Noah and Luke.

  Noah held up a hand, silencing him. “Gentleman, there is a fully armed British ship of war sailing up the coast of America—the coast of our great nation, our coast. She intends to do us harm. She intends to sink our ships, impress our men, and steal from us the freedoms we fought so hard to gain. On that ship is a young American girl held against her will.”

  Noah took up a pace before the men, examining each one in turn. A surge of strength, of purpose, billowed within him. “We know where this frigate is going. She and her companion hope to engage the USS Constitution and sink her to the depths. How can we go about our way and ignore our duty? How can we close our eyes and concern ourselves with money when the very future of our nation hangs in the balance?”

  He stopped, blood surging to his fists. “We are Americans. We are a people who stand up for what is right, who do not tolerate injustice, who will do anything for the cause of liberty. Even risk our own lives.”

  The men remained still, their eyes riveted on him.

  “How can we do anything but follow our enemy and do everything we can to thwart her evil plans and rescue Miss Denton?”

  Matthew’s expression twisted. “You’ve changed, Noah.”

  “Spend some time on a British warship and see if it doesn’t inspire your patriotism.” Noah snorted.

  A tiny grin played at the corner of Blackthorn’s lips. Matthew gave Noah a knowing look while Mr. Boone and Mr. Pike stared out the stern windows.

  “But what can we do?” The glee in Mr. Weller’s eyes, present since their rescue, had dissipated, and Noah hated himself for it.

  “I don’t know.” He lengthened his stance. “Gentlemen, let us follow this ship the British call the Undefeatable and find out if she lives up to her name.” He scanned his men, searching their eyes for compliance. “Who’s with me?”

  “Aye.” Luke smiled.

  “I am,” Mr. Pike and Mr. Boone said simultaneously.

  “We are!” Daniel burst out, then tugged on his father’s sleeve. “Aren’t we, Pa?”

  Blackthorn gave a reluctant nod.

  Noah glanced at Matthew. The old man shrugged. “You know I’ll sail wit’ you where’er you go.”

  “And what is your decision, Mr. Weller?” Noah asked. “I will put ashore all those not wishing to join us. No one would fault you for it.”

  Weller grunted, then shook his head. “You promised to get me off that British frigate, Cap’n, an’ you stuck to your word. Nay, I’m goin’ wit’ you. Even though I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Weller.” Emotion clogged Noah’s throat at his men’s loyalty, especially since most of them knew the price they would pay if the British caught them again.

  “Very well.” Noah planted his fists at his waist and cleared his throat. “Luke, inform the rest of the crew of our mission. Those who do not wish to join us will be dropped off at Charleston on the way north.”

  Ignoring the fear that most of his men would abandon him, Noah dismissed his friends and watched as they slowly marched from the cabin. His friends, indeed. For he doubted he’d find a more loyal bunch.

  And he hoped to God he wasn’t leading them all to their deaths.

  Chapter 23

  Marianne set the captain’s polished boots beside his bed and examined the black leather gleaming in the lantern light. Perfect. Tucking the rag into the pocket of her skirt, she turned to face the captain, hoping he wouldn’t overindulge in drink tonight.

  Her hopes faded when she saw him pouring yet another glass of brandy. She studied him as he stood alone with his thoughts, unaware of her censure. Dark circles tugged his eyes downward. The lines on his faced etched a sad tale. He sipped his brandy and stared into the darkness beyond the stern windows as if he wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. The light from lanterns swaying overhead sent the buttons lining his lapel shimmering like gold, but their luster fell flat when reflected off his haggard face.

  Marianne’s heart sank for this man.

  It had been two weeks since they’d left Antigua. Two miserably long weeks in which Marianne’s agitated emotions had gone from despondency to anger to sorrow and finally to a benumbed acceptance of her fate. If God wanted her to be a slave on board an enemy ship, if He wanted her mother and sister to go uncared for, then so be it. She would accept her destiny. Accept it, yes, but not without feeding a growing anger toward a God who was supposed to care for and love her.

  But as John Milton said his poem, Comus, “A sable cloud turns forth its silver lining on the night,” such a silver lining had shone on Marianne’s recent storms. For Lieutenant Garrick had not followed through with his threat to prove her involvement in her friends’ escape. Nor had he made any advances toward her. In addition, the drunken watchman made no mention of her actions and had only received a dozen lashes each.

  Gazing back at Captain Milford, she cringed in shame at her self-pity, for he was just as much a prisoner as she. Possibly more so. She headed toward his desk to clear off the dishes from his supper and hopefully make a quick exit, but his eyes latched on her as if he just remembered he was not alone.

  Marianne picked up the tray. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”

  He tossed the remaining brandy into his mouth, then poured himself another glass. “What do you think of your friends leaving you, Miss Denton?” His jaw tightened. “Egad, your fiancé!” He shook his head and stared out the window. “My wealth for a loyal, honorable man. Are there any left in the world, do you suppose?”

  Must he remind her? Must he rub salt in the wound when it was still so fresh? Marianne’s hands began to shake. The dishes clanked, and she set down the tray. “He really wasn’t my fiancé.” She hoped the truth of the statement would soothe the ache in her heart, if only a little. It didn’t.

  The captain let out a “humph,” then eyed her, his eyes misty. “Do you think me a monster, Miss Denton, for keeping you on this ship?”

  Marianne flinched. She wrung her hands, wondering how to respond so as not to set this volatile man into another one of his tirades. Yet what difference would it make? What could he do to her that could make her situation any worse? Lock her in the hold? She would welcome the change of pace. Hang her from the yardarm? Then she would be free at last. Finally she said, “I think you are a man who has missed his destiny.”

  One gray eyebrow arched incredulously. “Indeed?” He snorted. “You amaze me, Miss Denton. Pray tell, what destiny have I missed?”

  Marianne swallowed against her rising fear. “Though you are a great captain, sir, I don’t believe you were meant to be in His Majesty’s service. Clearly, you are
not happy. You are not fulfilled.” Her gaze took in his row of plants on the stern ledge. No doubt, you should have been a farmer.

  His face grew red and puffy as his eyes skittered over the cabin. “Preposterous!” He shifted his stance then downed his drink. After pouring another, he sauntered to the windows. “What do you know of such things? I have made a distinguished name for myself in the King’s Navy. While you are nothing but a silly woman.”

  Marianne hung her head. He was right. What did she know about destiny? If there was such a thing. Either she had missed hers too or she was not significant enough to be assigned one. Or worse, this was her destiny. “You are correct, Captain. I am nothing but a silly woman.” A silly woman to believe in destiny at all. Hers or anyone else’s. A silly woman to believe a man like Noah Brenin could ever love her.

  He shot a glance at her over his shoulder. “Dash it all, don’t cry. I have no tolerance for women’s tears.”

  Marianne drew in a deep breath and pursed her lips. The captain hovered somewhere between Captain Maniacal and Captain Tolerable—a dangerous spot if he continued in his cups. She must urge him to cease drinking and go to bed before he became too morose.

  She took a tentative step toward him. “What made you join the navy, Captain?”

  Still facing the window, he sipped his brandy and let out a bitter chuckle. “A woman, if you must know.”

  “Elizabeth?”

  He spun about, his eyes snapping to hers. “How do you know of her?”

  “You mentioned her before.”

  He looked perplexed for a moment then sadness shadowed his face. Drink in hand, he circled his desk and fell into a chair.

  Marianne eyed the open bottle of brandy on the desk. Perhaps if she put it away…

  The captain fingered the gold buttons on his waistcoat. “Ah she loved the sea. Loved a man in uniform.” He chuckled and sipped his brandy, his eyes alight with happier memories. “And since I had nothing else to recommend me, I joined the navy, promising her I’d make captain and give her a good life.”