Suspecting there was still more reason to worry, she asked, “Corsairs in general are more active now, but does Gürkan have any connection with the Tripoli corsairs?”
Gabriel gave her a slanting glance. “You’re very astute. Yes, he does. He’s a very rich and powerful man with a high position at the Ottoman court. At one time, he had corsair ships based in all the major Barbary Coast pirate cities. He was driven out of Algiers ten years ago, and Malek was instrumental in that. Which is why going to him in Constantinople is so dangerous. But Malek is desperate and has no other choice if he wants to get his family back.”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “So he’s willing to risk his life for his wife and children. One has to admire a man so devoted to his family.”
“I do, but I’m less enthusiastic about his risking all our lives,” Gabriel said dryly. “The closer we get to Constantinople, the more concerned I become.” His expression turned rueful. “For heaven’s sake, don’t mention that to anyone else! The captain of the ship is always supposed to be calm and confident.”
“You play the role of confident captain very well,” she assured him. “But you’re entitled to your private worries.”
So was she. And like Gabriel, the closer they got to their destination, the more anxious she became. On impulse, she asked, “Were you part of the situation that led to Gürkan being driven out of Algiers?”
“Yes. A story for another day.” He turned and gave her the full force of a captain’s gaze. “If we’re attacked, promise me that you and Miss Hollings will stay in your cabin until the battle is over. There isn’t anything you can do, and your presence in the middle of the fighting would distract my men.”
She hesitated, knowing he was right. “I’m not good at hiding safely.”
“Sometimes we must do things we’re not good at.” His gaze was relentless. “And this is one of them.”
She took a deep breath. “Very well. I know you’re right.”
“I am.” His voice softened. “I don’t want to be worrying about you.”
She wished she didn’t have to worry about him, but if fighting came, she knew he’d be in the thick of it.
* * *
Gabriel had long since learned that survival in a menacing world required a sixth sense for danger. Though the corsair galleys Rory had seen were a mirage and not nearby, he had a bad feeling that those distant galleys were seeking the Zephyr, and the fishing boats might be scouting for them.
Worse, the weather favored attackers; for the first time on this voyage, the ship was becalmed in a night world of heavy fog. Perfect ambush weather.
Unable to sleep, Gabriel armed himself with cutlass, pistol, and a dagger and went above to prowl the deck and wait for the danger he sensed approaching. He was unsurprised to meet Malek in the stern of the ship, watching and listening and as well armed as Gabriel.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” Gabriel asked quietly.
Malek nodded, the gesture almost invisible in the foggy night. “Aye, there are monsters in the mist.”
“Do you think Gürkan has sent Tripoli corsairs to attack?”
“Yes,” Malek said flatly. “He surely has agents in Algiers who saw when we left. A very fast ship could have carried a message to Tripoli to warn them of our approach.”
“The sea is vast,” Gabriel said, knowing that wouldn’t make them safe.
“But the best and quickest routes to the east are well known. They’re out there, Hawkins. I can feel them.”
Malek would not have survived so long if he didn’t have a sense for danger equal to Gabriel’s. “Your men are on alert?”
“They sleep with their swords.”
“I hope the enemy comes tonight and gets it over with,” Gabriel said. “Why not take some rest? Not good if we’re both exhausted.”
“Are you capable of resting tonight?” Malek said brusquely.
“Probably not.” Gabriel turned to resume his prowling about the deck, then paused. “Have you forgiven me for escaping from Algiers with the Zephyr and a crew of enslaved Christian sailors?”
“No,” Malek said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “But you were helpful enough at that time that I decided not to hunt you down and kill you.”
“As if you could,” Gabriel said with equal amusement.
Malek raised a hand in dismissal and Gabriel went on his way. He and Malek had a complicated, hard-to-define relationship. But tonight, as they faced a common danger, they were close to being friends.
* * *
Taking his own advice, Gabriel lay down on his bed without removing his boots or most of his weapons. He was going to feel like a fool if there was no corsair attack. But better to be a fool than dead or enslaved again.
He closed his eyes and tried for more cheerful thoughts. His bed was no mere bunk but wide enough to share, and the thought of sharing it with Rory was definitely pleasing. She had such life and intelligence, not to mention beauty. And amazingly, she seemed as drawn to him as he was to her.
Once he started thinking of Rory, it was impossible not to remember her clad only in veils, or the feel of her warm body in his arms and her passionate response. If only . . .
He was jarred out of his reverie by the splash of dozens of oars slicing into the sea, the tempo going faster and faster as the oars accelerated a galley to ramming speed. The unmistakable sounds of a corsair attack.
As the ship’s bell began clanging furiously in warning, Gabriel leaped from his bed and slammed his cutlass into its sheath. He was halfway up the steps to the main deck when the pirate galley smashed into the Zephyr, its battering ram grinding across the deck from the starboard side and shuddering to a halt amidships.
His ship convulsed as if caught in an earthquake, and he had to grab the stair railing to keep from being pitched down the steps. He regained his balance and sprinted upward three steps at a time.
By the time he reached the deck, chaos was in full cry. Screams and gunshots and stinging clouds of smoke filled the air, and gunpowder flashes illuminated the fog, revealing corsairs swarming onto the deck from their galley. They were met by fierce resistance from Malek’s men, whose distinctive scarlet tunics separated friend from foe.
Bloody hell! Gabriel was knocked from his feet by another collision. There were two damned attacking galleys, the second one savaging the Zephyr from the port side. Swearing, he hit the ground rolling and was on his feet again in an instant.
He and Malek hadn’t expected to be attacked by two galleys. Not that knowing would have made a difference. They’d already made the best preparations they could.
Gabriel had fought his first hand-to-hand combat as a fourteen-year-old midshipman, and nearly been spitted by a French sailor. A grizzled Royal Marine had saved him, and after the battle undertaken to teach Gabriel how to fight well enough to live to fight again. He’d learned how to parry with the dagger in his left hand while wielding his cutlass with the right.
Most of all, he’d learned how to use the all-consuming rage of battle. That rage burned through him as he saw corsairs swarming aboard his ship. The bastards would never take the Zephyr!
Time seemed to slow, allowing him to perform feats that should have been impossible, such as countering attacks almost before they began. Stabbing a blade while an enemy was still sizing him up. He knew how to kill, and how to survive.
Three pirates were charging his helmsman, who was struggling to keep the Zephyr stable despite the attacks and lashed galleys. Gabriel reached the attackers and took one down in a single sweep of his cutlass. Two others swung around furiously to confront him. A wild-eyed corsair attacked, scimitar glittering in the erratic light. A standard-issue blade, not superior Damascus steel.
Gabriel chose his moment, then swung his heavier cutlass, shattering the scimitar blade just below the hilt. As the corsair staggered, Gabriel continued the arc of his weapon and buried the blade in the pirate’s chest. In the moments it took for him to destroy the first two a
ttackers, his helmsman pulled his own cutlass and took down the third.
Two Zephyr sailors came to Gabriel’s side, and together they fought off a clump of pirates. While Gabriel sliced and dodged and attacked, he automatically scanned the main deck to get an overview of the combat.
Malek was leading a squad of his men along the starboard side, mowing down the pirates who attempted to board from that side. On the port side, Gabriel’s second mate had organized a similar maneuver to cut down the attackers before they could board, and his group included both Zephyr sailors and Malek’s guards.
The ferocity of the corsairs was vicious proof that they wanted to slaughter the ship’s crew and passengers, not take prisoners and sell them as slaves. These attackers were here to destroy Malek and everyone around him.
The small carronades, particularly lethal at short distances, roared below decks. Pirates screamed as huge fragments of their galley exploded into the air, accompanied by wails of agony and unidentifiable body parts. Jason Landers was in charge of the cannon, and he and his gun crews must have slept by the weapons to respond so quickly.
The port-side cannons blasted with equal effectiveness. Well done, Jason!
Not expecting such fierce resistance, the corsairs were falling back, leaving their dead and wounded behind. A Zephyr sailor hurled a torch into the galley on the starboard side. The sails caught fire and blazed up, fully illuminating the deck of the schooner.
Retreat cut off, some of the corsairs turned and launched themselves toward Malek. Malek was a fierce, clever fighter, but his squad was outnumbered. As they fell back across the deck, Gabriel and his companions charged in, cutlasses swinging. The illusion that time had slowed allowed him to deflect blades, cut down corsairs, aid threatened fighters from his side.
A giant corsair loomed behind Malek. Too far away to use his cutlass, Gabriel shouted, “Malek!” and yanked his pistol from its holster.
Praying his aim would be true despite the ship’s pitching, he pulled the trigger. The giant corsair crashed to the deck.
Malek spun around and bellowed a warning of his own. “Hawkins! Behind you!”
Gabriel spun about to face a corsair intent on beheading him. As he dodged out of the way, he hurled his dagger into the man’s throat. As that corsair collapsed, he sensed another enemy closing in. Then shattering noise and the world went black.
Chapter 15
Rory and Constance huddled together on Constance’s bunk, The Spook burrowed nervously between them as screams, gunshots, and cannon fire rocked the ship. Flames from the burning galley lashed astern of them cast lurid light and shadows across the cabin. “At what point do I break my promise to the captain to stay safely down here?” Rory asked in a shaking voice.
“If the cabin is in danger of catching fire, we leave,” Constance said firmly. “Until then, we stay put. We’re unarmed and would be helpless in the middle of the madness taking place above us.”
Rory knew her cousin was right, but the cacophony of battle seemed endless. After what seemed like hours but was surely much less, the shouts and gunfire began to diminish. She unfolded her stiff limbs and moved to the porthole to look outside.
The burning galley was below and behind their cabin. Though the flames were dying out, there was still enough light to see that corsairs were tumbling down into the galley and slashing through their lines to free themselves from the schooner. “The pirates are retreating as fast as they can, thank heaven!”
Constance joined her at the porthole. “The cannon have stopped firing.”
Rory bit her lip, desperate to know what had happened in the brief, vicious battle. She was heading toward the cabin door when someone pounded on it, calling, “Constance, Lady Aurora, are you all right?”
“Jason!” Constance unlocked the door and threw herself into the first mate’s embrace. “I was so worried!”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I was below decks commanding the artillery so I wasn’t in the thick of the fighting.”
Throat tight, Rory asked, “How many casualties have we suffered?”
“Not as many as I feared from the sound of the fighting,” Landers said, his arm still around Constance. “Three confirmed dead, all from Malek’s troop. Those fellows fought like tigers! A fair number of our men have suffered injuries, mostly saber slashes that are bloody but not too serious.”
“What about Captain Hawkins?” Rory asked, her mouth dry.
“Wounded,” Landers said tersely. “A pistol ball grazed his head and he’s unconscious. That’s one reason I came down here. Your medical skills are needed for cleaning and bandaging wounds, Constance. Lady Aurora, do you have any medical experience?”
“Some. Not as much as Constance, but I’m not afraid of the sight of blood.” She and her cousin had already packed bags of bandages, salves, and other supplies for treating injuries in the aftermath of battle. Slinging one over her shoulder, she asked, “Where is the captain?”
“In his cabin.” Landers stood aside and gestured for them to go out ahead of him. Constance took the other bag of medical supplies and the three of them exited.
Rory asked, “How is Malek Reis?”
“Some minor injuries, but nothing serious. We were lucky.”
They reached the main deck, which was a fair approximation of a lower circle of hell. Splashes of lantern light revealed bodies and blood strewn across the deck. Under the supervision of Malek’s captain of the guard, the corsairs who remained were being disarmed and forced down into the portside galley, which was still lashed to the Zephyr. The bodies of dead or wounded pirates were tossed in as well. The sails and many of the oars had been blasted away by cannon, but the galley looked seaworthy.
Landers explained, “Rather than take prisoners or slaughter everyone, we’re sending them off without sails or weapons. Eventually they should be able to reach land, but they won’t be coming after us again any time soon.”
“That’s sensible,” Constance said briskly. “Now where are the wounded?”
“The forecastle,” Landers replied. “Lady Aurora, you know where the captain’s cabin is. Our surgeon’s mate is with him, doing what he can.”
They split up, Rory almost running down the steep steps into Gabriel’s quarters. The companionway ended in the wide area that was the captain’s dining and day room. Gabriel had said his sleeping cabin was starboard so she turned that way. A similar cabin was on the port side. Malek was seated inside, impatiently waiting for one of his men to bandage his arm. Ignoring him, Rory entered Gabriel’s cabin.
A lantern illuminated his limp form, and for a horrible moment, she thought he was dead. Then, thank God, she saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. His head was bandaged and blood had dried through his brown hair, and along his neck, and in alarming great splotches on his white shirt. He must have suffered a scimitar wound, because the surgeon’s mate was tying off a bandage on his left arm.
Rory asked tensely, “How is he?”
The mate looked up, frowning. “Can’t say for sure. I’ve cleaned and dressed all his injuries. The saber cuts aren’t bad, but head wounds are the devil to predict.” The mate got to his feet. “I’ve done as much as I can here and I need to tend the other wounded, but I don’t want to leave him alone. Will you stay and keep an eye on him?”
She resisted the temptation to say there was nowhere she’d rather be. “I will. Is there anything I should know? Or do?”
“If he wakes and talks sensibly and remembers, that will be good. Very good. If he’s in pain, you can give him a couple of drops of laudanum with water. Apart from that . . .” He gestured to the basin of water on the table tucked between bed and wall. “He’ll look less deathly if you clean off some blood.”
“Understood. Now go to your other patients.”
As soon as the mate left, Malek entered the cabin, one arm in a sling. He stared broodingly at Gabriel. “How badly injured is he?”
“The surgeon’s mate isn’t sure how serious the
head wound is. We’ll have to wait and see,” Rory replied. “You seem to have come through reasonably well.”
“To your regret?” he asked, his dark brows tilting.
“I don’t actually want you dead,” she said cordially, “but if you were, we could turn this ship around and sail away from Constantinople.”
He gave a ghostly smile. “I’m sure that would be a relief. But the ship will sail on. If Hawkins doesn’t make it, I’m a good enough sea captain to get us the rest of the way.”
Rory perched on the edge of the bed, then dipped a clean rag in the basin and began gently sponging dried blood from Gabriel’s hair. “Captain Hawkins implied that the two of you had a history,” she said encouragingly.
“An understatement. Ask him about it if he survives.” Malek leaned wearily against the door frame, exhaustion in every line of his body. “Today he saved my life. Again.”
“He makes a habit of that? Yet still you persist in blackmailing him for his cooperation.”
Malek shrugged. “I honor what he has done for me, but a man does what he must do. I will spare no one in my quest to recover my family. Not even you or your better-behaved cousin.”
Her mouth tightened. “I have to admire your honesty, though not much else.”
He smiled a little. “You and my wife would like each other, I think. Now if you will excuse me, Lady Aurora, I must see to my men.”
Rory resumed cleaning away blood, then realized that The Spook must have streaked out when they’d left their cabin. The cat was now stretched out between Gabriel’s leg and the wall, his long, furry face looking worried. Maybe she just imagined the worry, but she was glad he’d come to keep his master company.
She kept her touch light as she washed blood from Gabriel’s head and tanned neck. When she was finished, he looked less like a man at death’s door. She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. “You’d better not die on me, Gabriel Hawkins,” she said under her breath. “I need you to rescue me from harem slavery!”
Once a Scoundrel (Rogues Redeemed #3) Page 12
