My Heart's Desire

by Andrea Kane

  Dawn cast its first golden glow on the waters of Lake Ontario. Kingston lay alongside them, signifying the end of the first leg of their journey, the beginning of another. Just ahead, the mighty Saint Lawrence beckoned, and La Belle Illusion surged forward eagerly, ready to accept the challenge.

  The seamen moved about the ship, performing their jobs while, keeping a constant eye out for danger. It was unprecedented for Captain Barrett to be conspicuously absent from the quarterdeck for more than three hours at a time. But if anyone noticed, no one made mention of the fact.

  Below, in the captain’s cabin, Drake gently kissed his wife awake. “Princess,” he murmured between kisses, “I have to go topside. It’s been hours.”

  Alex gave a sleepy sigh and opened her eyes. “We just went to sleep,” she protested.

  He grinned. “That may be, love, but that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been at the helm since sometime after midnight.”

  She stretched gracefully, feeling the physical tenderness that resulted from a night of lovemaking. The ache felt wonderful.

  He stared down at her, seeing the effect of last night’s passion. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair wildly tousled, her softly parted lips still swollen from his bruising kisses. He felt the familiar surge of desire rise up inside him, coupled with a less familiar and most unwelcome tightening in his chest.

  “Drake?” Her voice was questioning.

  He shook his head, denying the feelings. He lowered his mouth to hers again, deepening the kiss until they both felt the magic of the previous night spinning its web about their senses.

  The shrill sound of the officers’ whistle pierced the air, shattering the fantasy into bitter shards of reality. Seconds later there were running footsteps and calls of “Captain! Captain!”

  “Damn!” Drake tore himself from Alex’s arms and hurried across the room, pulling on his shirt and breeches.

  “Drake … what is it?” Alex sat up, alarmed.

  He paused at the door only to give her a hard look. “No venturing from this cabin, Alexandria. I mean it,” he warned.

  She rose from the bed, the sheet draped around her. “Tell me what is happening,” she demanded.

  He had already flung open the door as he spoke. “La Belle Illusion is in trouble. God help us if it is an American attack.”

  Chapter 16

  “IT’S A MILITARY SHIP comin’ up behind us, Cap’n! An’ she’s flyin’ the American flag!” Cochran stood at the top of the stairs, calling out to Drake as he reached the main deck.

  Drake’s head jerked around, his expertly trained eye instantly assessing the situation. The oncoming ship was a 160-foot military brig of over four hundred tons, with two towering masts and sixteen guns. She dwarfed La Belle Illusion in firepower, speed, and crew. The situation was grim.

  All around Drake his men were following Smitty’s orders, dragging the cannons into position and hoisting the gunpowder and cannonballs up through the hatch to the main deck. Everything would be ready should it be needed.

  “Captain! They are definitely in pursuit!” Smitty shouted, as Drake leapt onto the quarterdeck.

  Drake nodded. “We’ll try to outmaneuver them.” He took the wheel from Smitty in an iron grip. The Saint Lawrence was narrowing; the Thousand Islands lay ahead. It would be nearly impossible to escape. But with Drake at the helm, anything was possible.

  “We’ll not make this easy for them, Smitty,” he vowed, steering La Belle Illusion windward.

  Despite Drake’s superb skill, the attempt to escape was futile. Not only was the enemy ship larger, with more expansive rigging, but the weight of the timber in La Belle Illusion’s hold made her slow and difficult to steer among the myriad small islands.

  Minutes later Drake made his decision.

  “Man the guns, men,” he commanded. “We are in for a fight.” His calm tone did not fool anyone. This was going to be a battle to the death.

  The men hauled the cannons inboard and opened the gunports, then stacked the cartridges alongside the guns as they waited tensely for Drake’s next order.

  Alex stood, horrified, on the main deck, witnessing the scene around her. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her mouth.

  Thomas Greer spun about. “Miss Alex! You should not be up here! We’re about t’ do battle!”

  “Yes, Thomas, I can see that.” She was overcome by fear and by frustration. She might be a woman, but surely there was something she could do to help.

  She hurried to the quarterdeck where Drake was maneuvering the ship rapidly downriver.

  “Drake!” She flew up beside him. “What can I do?”

  “Damn you!” He spat out the words, determined to avert the danger that loomed behind them. “I told you to stay below! Do I have to beat you into obedience?”

  Alex looked stunned, then defensive. “We are about to be attacked! I thought …”

  “You thought? No, damn it, Alexandria, you didn’t think! You just acted, as always!” A muscle worked in his jaw, which was clenched in fury. He wiped the spray from his face impatiently. “Now get off my quarterdeck before you get yourself killed!” When she hesitated, he barked, “Now, wife!”

  She had never felt more like chattel. Turning around, she retreated to the main deck without another word.

  Drake gritted his teeth. He knew he had hurt her. But at least his harsh words had forced her below to safety.

  Alex had no intention of going anywhere.

  She made her way along the main deck, watching as the small crew worked frantically to ready the cannons. She bit her lip, cursing her lack of knowledge and experience, as the straining, sweating men prepared to fight for their lives.

  The ominous white sails of the enemy ship loomed closer. Alex could make out the American crew as they manned their guns. The futility of the situation struck her like a violent blow as she counted the men and gunports of the vessel that would soon be upon them. How could Drake ever hope to emerge victorious?

  “Cochran! Where the ’ell are the rest of those cartridges?” Jamison demanded, searching the deck.

  “Mannings is below, filling ’em with powder.” Cochran glanced toward the open hatch at the top of the hold. “He should be passin’ ’em up any second.”

  Jamison swore under his breath. “Who the ’ell is goin’ t’ get ’em? We’ve got t’ reload within a hairbreadth! There’s no time for us t’ run back t’ fetch ’em!”

  Before Cochran could respond, thunder exploded through the air, followed by huge sprays, of water that swept the decks as the ship rolled wildly.

  “They’ve missed us!” Thomas Greer shouted.

  Alex looked up and fought back a scream, realizing that the Americans were now directly parallel to La Belle Illusion and that the tremendous explosion of a moment ago had been cannon fire.

  “Ready the larboard guns!” Drake’s voice boomed out.

  Instantly the men loaded their cannons. First, a cartridge of powder was rammed down the barrel. Three good strokes of the rammer put home a wad of rope yarn. Next, the lethal ball itself was snugged up against the wad by the rammer. Finally, another wad was put home, leaving no space between the powder cartridge and the last wad. The touchhole was filled with powder and the guns aimed at their target.

  “Larboard guns, ready, Cap’n!” Cochran called out.

  Less than a minute had passed since the command had been given. Poised, the crew waited, knowing what came next.

  “Larboard guns, fire!”

  Alex said a silent prayer as the men blew upon their linstocks and ignited the cartridges through the touchholes of their guns.

  The impact sent Alex sprawling to the deck. The mighty cannons boomed out, rolling backward from the force of their fire, yet held fast by the breeching rope that tied them securely to the ship. Alex recovered in time to see the balls fall into the water, far short of their target.

  “God damn it!” Drake roared from the helm. “How many chances
do you think we’re going to get? Your range is short! Increase the elevation of those blasted guns!” He grimly noted that the Americans were preparing to fire again. “I’ll dodge their fire and get in closer. And this time, don’t miss!”

  The men were already finished reloading, and Alex heard them muttering among themselves.

  “I dunno what the ’ell ’appened,” Cochran said, shaking his head. “That shot should ’ave ’it ’em.”

  “Mine, too,” Jamison agreed, realigning the muzzle of his gun. He drew in a deep, nervous breath. “We’ve got to get ’em next time.”

  But they didn’t. Not the next time or the next. The two ships moved in a zigzag pattern down the narrow river, their paths at times seeming to intersect, then move apart, giving each vessel ample opportunity to attack. Despite Drake’s success at moving closer just prior to firing, the crew’s volleys landed time and again far short of their mark, while the Americans had already destroyed La Belle’s jib and fore-royal sails.

  Alex swallowed and eyed the shattered sails. Thank God they were small, inconsequential ones. But how much longer could Drake’s clever handling at the helm hold up against the warship’s tremendous power?

  Thomas Greer gasped, raw fear in his eyes. “That was me last cartridge.” He stepped hesitantly away from his gun. “I’ll ‘ave to get more from the ‘old.”

  “We ’aven’t time,” Jamison shot back.

  “Well, what the ’ell are we goin’ t’ do without ammunition?”

  “I’ll get the cartridges.”

  The men spun about at Alex’s firmly delivered words. She could see the indecision on their faces, but then it was too late. Cannon fire exploded again, a chain shot piercing the main topgallant, causing the ship to roll precariously. The men steadied themselves, turning back to their guns.

  “Aim for their rigging and try to slow them down!” Drake commanded. He gripped the wheel tightly in frustration. Something was wrong. He knew it. “Fire, now!” he ordered.

  The roar of cannon fire filled the sky, but when the air cleared, he saw that the other ship had remained unscathed.

  The balls had once again fallen short of their mark. The men were frantic. Alex waited no longer, but ran over to the hold.

  “Mannings!” she called down. “I need those cartridges, now!”

  She saw his stunned face below her, as well as the pile of powder-filled cartridges beside him. He hesitated.

  “Now, Mannings!” Was that authoritative voice really hers?

  Apparently, it was, for Mannings immediately began to pass the packets up to her.

  She ran back and forth, piling them up beside the desperate men. On the quarterdeck Smitty turned, then paled as he saw what Alex was doing.

  Drake heard Smitty’s low, inadvertent gasp and turned his head, following Smitty’s gaze. He froze with an outrage born of stark terror.

  “Dear God …” he breathed. “What the hell is she doing?”

  “Captain, they’re about to fire again!” Smitty interrupted, seeing the larger ship pulling along their larboard side.

  As he spoke, the balls were released, flying purposely toward La Belle Illusion. Water erupted all around them, and with a surge of panic Drake saw one ball fly just beyond where Alex stood, striking the fore-topsail and shattering it.

  Alex screamed, clutching a wooden beam for support, realizing how close she had come to dying.

  “That sail ’as to be changed or we’ve ’ad it,” Jamison groaned.

  “I’ll change the sails,” Thomas called out.

  He was never given the chance. Another explosion of cannon fire rang out, and seconds later the sickening sound of splintering wood pierced the air as La Belle Illusion’s mainmast disintegrated all around them. Drake shielded his eyes from the slivers of wood cascading into the water.

  Smitty gave Drake a grim look. “We’re in trouble, Captain. We’re not going anywhere without that mast.”

  The Americans seemed to know that, too, for seconds later another round of fire, aimed much lower, was released. The crash was deafening, and La Belle pitched violently, propelling all those on deck against the rail.

  “Cap’n! We’ve been ’it!” Mannings’s frightened voice came from below. “We’re takin’ on water!”

  Drake had known immediately that the hull had been hit, but Mannings’s words still caused a sharp pain in his gut.

  “Can it be plugged?” he shouted.

  “No way, Cap’n. They’ve ripped out our ’ole larboard side!”

  Drake closed his eyes for a split second, calling up his strength for what was to follow.

  There was never a question of whether to fight. His crew was badly outnumbered. They would be slaughtered in hand-to-hand combat. And their lives were more important than anything else. Theirs and his wife’s.

  The Canadian shore lay just ahead. The currents were strong, but they could make it in the lifeboats. They had to make it.

  He turned toward the tense faces of his men. “Abandon ship, men,” he ordered, his own expression tormented. “We can make it to the Canadian shore in the boats before they board us.” He drew in a shaken breath. “Now!”

  The men took off to ready the boats. Drake turned to Smitty. “I want Alexandria off on the first longboat,” he told him. “I don’t care if she screams and kicks all the way down. Get her on that boat!”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “And I want you with her, Smitty, to keep her safe.” He shook his head sharply at Smitty’s protest. “I’ll stay behind and evacuate the crew.” He put his hand on his first mate’s shoulder. “I would prefer it to be a personal favor … but if I need to, I will make it an order, my friend.”

  Smitty’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “I will see to it, Captain.”

  “Thank you.”

  Without another word Drake turned to help the men ready the lifeboats. Alex worked her way along the lame ship until she reached his side.

  “You are leaving on the first boat,” he said without looking at her.

  “Drake, no … I want to stay here with you.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you want, Alexandria.” He stood glaring at her, but she saw the agony in his eyes. All around them men called out to one another, their voices tense, their faces ashen, as the boats were lowered into the water.

  “I am staying,” she announced.

  “Over my dead body.” His tone was lethal. “You are going if I have to heave you over the side myself. This isn’t a game, wife. Any minute the American crew is going to board this ship and try to kill us all.” He cast a worried look at the enemy vessel beside them, wondering why they hadn’t yet begun to throw their grapplings on board to lock the two ships together. They had certainly had ample time. Perhaps they didn’t know how severe the damage was they had inflicted …

  Drake had barely completed the thought, when a final explosion thundered through the heavens, destroying La Belle’s remaining rigging and striking the foremast.

  The crippled foremast shuddered as the stays snapped, swinging its boom forward wildly. Drake saw it happen and let out a choked warning, but it was too late. Alex saw the terror in his eyes as he leapt toward her. Before she could turn around, she felt the impact of the boom as it grazed the back of her head, propelling her over the side of the ship. And then the waters closed over her, carrying her down to certain death.

  Drake was at the railing before she hit the water.

  “Smitty!” he screamed. “Get the men off the ship! I’m going after her!”

  He didn’t wait for Smitty’s answer, but dived over the side of the ship, cutting cleanly into the river at the spot where he had seen his wife disappear. He scanned the river for Alex, fighting the swift currents that threatened to overtake him. How could his tiny wife hope to survive?

  Alex was wondering that as well. Dazed by the blow to her head, she struggled to come to the surface. An excellent swimmer, she was nonetheless weighed down by her gown and petticoat. She
kicked frantically, trying to counter their effect. Her lungs were bursting for air, her heart pounding from exertion. Just when she thought she had lost, she broke the surface of the water.

  Gasping in air, she screamed Drake’s name. She could see La Belle Illusion, now farther away, slowly sinking. Beside the mutilated ship, Alex could make out the lifeboats, as the men abandoned the doomed vessel. She called for Drake again, splashing wildly as she tried to save herself, hurting at the sight of the proud ship that was now nearly submerged in the Saint Lawrence.

  Drake saw it, too. But the pain he felt at seeing his beloved ship go down was overshadowed by the joy that surged within him as he heard Alex call his name, saw the splash of color in the water that was his wife.

  “Alex!” he screamed back, waving frantically at her. “Hold on, love. I’m coming!”

  His words, his presence, made her heart soar.

  Her elation was short-lived. The currents swept her up, dragging her downriver. Her head throbbed beyond endurance, and she searched frantically for something to cling to.

  It found her.

  A tiny island of rock jutted just out into the water. For the second time Alex felt the impact of something solid striking her head.

  And then she felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 17

  HE SAW HER GO down.

  Drake felt his heart lurch as Alex crashed into the sharp edge of rock and disappeared from view. He was but fifty feet away. With long, powerful strokes he reached the spot where she had been. He combatted the force of the river and dived beneath the surface.

  Thank God for the bright color of her gown. With a strength born of fear Drake reached her side and pulled her limp form against him. It took three or four hard kicks until he had broken the surface. He gulped in air and forced Alex’s head above water.

  “Alex!” His voice shook. “Damn it, Alex, answer me!”

  She did not.

  But against his strong forearm Drake could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest that told him she was breathing. She had been under water for only a few seconds, so she could not have taken in much water.