The Sea Witch

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  As she and young Randolph started down, Riordan let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. He glanced at Newton. The old man winked, then turned away and continued swabbing the deck.

  Minutes later Ambrosia paused beside Riordan. "Is there anything else you'd like done before I go belowdecks and eat, Captain?"

  Because there were several sailors close enough to overhear, he merely shrugged. "Nothing, Seaman Lambert. For now." As she started away he added in a low tone, "You and Randolph did a fine job."

  She never even bothered to acknowledge his remark as she stalked off in silence.

  "There she is, Cap'n." Newton pointed through the dusk of evening to the ship that lay battered and broken a few hundred yards offshore.

  "Hoist our flag, Newt. Let her know we're fellow countrymen."

  "Aye, Cap'n." The old man unfurled the English flag and began to pull the ropes until it flew at the very top of the mast, above the sails.

  Within minutes a sailor aboard the crippled ship climbed to the top of the mast and began waving a lantern.

  "She's signaling us to come aboard, Cap'n." Newton stood beside Riordan, who was turning the Undaunted toward shore. "Ye'd best watch these shallows. They're treacherous. Ye wouldn't want to share the fate of that one."

  "You're right, Newt. Send a couple of sailors topside and have them watch for hazards."

  "Aye, Cap'n." The old man shouted for several sailors to climb the rigging. Satisfied, he glanced at Riordan. "Ye might want to turn the wheel over to the lass. She's familiar with these shores. Been sailing them since she was no bigger'n a wee babe."

  "What's the matter. Newt? Losing faith in me?"

  "Nay, Cap'n. But we've already lost too much time. I'd hate to lose even more when we're this close to our goal."

  "We'll make it, Newt." He steadied the wheel. "But summon Seaman Lambert. No harm in having a second pair of eyes."

  "Aye, sir." The old man shuffled away and returned a short time later with Ambrosia trailing.

  "You sent for me, Captain?"

  He kept his gaze on the water directly in front of them.

  It wouldn't do to allow any distractions now. And Ambrosia was definitely a distraction.

  "Newt tells me you know these waters."

  "I do."

  "Then I'd like you beside me. If you see that we're heading into trouble, I want you to shout a warning immediately."

  "Aye, Captain."

  She stood beside him, staring intently at the waves. But she couldn't ignore the presence of the man beside her. There was such strength in him, such a sense of power. Except for her father, she'd never known a man so sure of himself.

  "This is the worst possible time to navigate such waters. With the sunlight faded, it's impossible to see every hidden danger. Did you know that more ships have run aground along this coastline than almost any other in all of England?"

  "Aye." He kept his gaze unwavering, loving the sound of her voice, so low and breathy. "I know."

  "Careful. There's a shoal up ahead, and in high seas like this many an unsuspecting ship has been carried onto it and left high and dry."

  "And unable to defend itself against the many pirates who operate in these waters, I'm told." He nodded toward the rotting hulls of abandoned ships that were as numerous as the rocks, and gave silent testimony to the hazards involved in navigating the wicked shoreline of Cornwall.

  "Rocks dead ahead, Captain," she called, even before the seamen who were high in the rigging had spotted them.

  As Riordan turned the wheel, the shout came from above, confirming what Ambrosia had just calmly told him.

  He shot her an admiring look. "Well done, Seaman Lambert."

  She actually smiled. "Thank you, Captain."

  The Undaunted inched slowly toward the crippled ship. With Ambrosia's words of warning to guide him, Riordan brought them alongside.

  "Ahoy the Dover," he shouted. "This is the Undaunted. Come to rescue your crew and deliver your cargo."

  "Ahoy the Undaunted. Come aboard."

  Riordan turned the wheel over to Newton. "Ambrosia, stay here with Newt. I'll take a couple of sailors with me and determine the size of the cargo and the number of men needed."

  "I can carry my share, Riordan," she said before she could stop herself.

  "Aye." He halted her with a look. "Of that I have no doubt. But the decision is mine to make. And I want you here."

  He walked away, overhearing her mutter in an aside to Newton that she was once again being treated differently.

  "Leave it, lass," the old man said tiredly. "The cap'n's doing his best for all of us."

  She turned to him with a look of surprise. "Are you taking his side, Newt?"

  "Nay, lass." He patted her arm. "There's no side here. Neither his nor yours. There's just what's best for all. But ye've got to learn that when ye push too hard, ye force him to push back. And when that happens, neither of ye likes the outcome." Though she was inwardly seething, she managed to

  keep her thoughts to herself. But she had no intention of letting up. Riordan Spencer needed to be reminded that she was as good as any other sailor aboard the Undaunted.

  On board the Dover, Riordan greeted the captain and looked around the nearly empty ship in surprise. "Where are your sailors, Captain?"

  "My crew has been taken to shore and given shelter," Captain Williams explained. "I kept only enough men to see that the Dover wasn't claimed for salvage until the cargo could be transferred to an English ship."

  Riordan surveyed the damage. "I doubt she can be of any use even as salvage, Captain. Why would anyone try to claim her? She seems to be breaking up."

  "Aye." The bearded man's eyes were bleak as he studied the toppled mast, the torn sails, many of which were floating nearby. The Dover was listing badly, her hold flooded, her hull breaking apart.

  Riordan pointed to the cargo, which had been brought above deck to keep it from floating away. "Let's get this loaded aboard the Undaunted at once."

  The sailors began the task of carting the heavy wooden casks containing tea and spices from one ship to the other, and storing them in the hold. By the time they'd completed the transfer, darkness had settled over the land.

  "Thank you, Captain Spencer." The bearded man offered his hand.

  "You're welcome, Captain Williams. I wish you good fortune with the Dover," Riordan replied, clasping it firmly.

  "And you with the Undaunted." Captain Williams looked up at a sky so dark not even a hint of moonlight or starlight could be seen. "It's not a night for sailing, Captain Spencer."

  "Aye. I thought we'd wait here for morning."

  Captain Williams beckoned him away from the others. In a voice hardly more than a whisper, he said, "I must give you a word of warning. You'd best use the cover of darkness to put as much distance as possible between us."

  At the urgency in the man's tone, Riordan tensed. "Are you trying to warn me of danger, Captain?"

  Williams nodded. "My men spotted a rogue ship in the area. Even when it came within shouting distance, it hoisted no flag. It's what drove us to this. We had to get as close to shore as possible. I believe the only thing that kept them from coming in for our cargo was the many fishermen from Bretton circling our ship, offering to ferry our sailors to land. But once the captain of the rogue spots your sails, he'll know where you've come from and what you carry."

  "I doubt a rogue ship would be interested in tea and spices, Captain."

  "It's true. They wouldn't be. But if the casks marked tea and spices actually contained something much more valuable, they'd be willing to do whatever necessary to steal it."

  Riordan's eyes narrowed. "Just what are we carrying, Captain?" At Williams's hesitation, he added, "I have a right to know what danger I may be bringing to my ship and crew."

  "It's gold, Captain Spencer. To be delivered to the king's own representative in Land's End, who will arrange to have it taken overland to London."

  "Gold?" Riord
an stared at him in surprise. "Why all this secrecy?"

  "King Charles has need of gold. But there are those who would steal it, in order to weaken his position and see him lose favor with the people."

  "And yet you've taken me into your confidence." Riordan studied the man's eyes. "Why?"

  "I was told you are a personal friend of His Majesty."

  "That's not for others to know, Captain Williams."

  "Aye, sir. I understand. Your secret is safe with me."

  Riordan glanced around, to be certain no one was close enough to overhear. "Did your sailors not know what you carried?"

  "Nay. If they did, they might have wanted to help themselves to some of the cargo when the ship ran aground. It's why I agreed to allow them to go ashore. I kept only those I could trust. And even then, I watched them as though I couldn't trust them." He smiled. "I'd advise you to keep this knowledge to yourself as well, Captain. Trust no one. For someone out there has knowledge of this cargo. Someone who will do whatever necessary to relieve you of it."

  "What is the name of this man I must contact in Land's End?"

  "His name is Barclay Stuart."

  "Thank you, Captain." Riordan shook his hand again, then returned to his own ship.

  "Newton," he shouted. "Have the sailors hoist the sails."

  "We're leaving now, Cap'n? Before light?"

  "Aye, Newt. We leave immediately."

  For a minute the old man's eyes narrowed. Whatever information had been exchanged between the two captains, it meant some sort of trouble. Why else would a man of the sea risk the lives of himself and his crew on such a perilous undertaking? And all for the sake of simple cargo?

  For the next hour, while they traversed the same dangerous path they'd so recently followed, no one spoke. All eyes were focused on the black water that lay ahead. All thoughts were centered on making it out to the deep without incident.

  "Ship just off the stern, Cap'n." Newton's voice bellowed down from the rigging, where he'd climbed just before dawn.

  "Can we outrun her, Newt?" Riordan called.

  "She's bearing down hard. Running light. No cargo. She'll be upon us within the hour, I'd say."

  At once a dozen sailors raced to the rear of the ship and strained for a glimpse of sails. As soon as they were spotted, the men began mumbling among themselves, until the mutterings became a roar.

  "She's a rogue, Captain. She flies no flag."

  From above came a shout. "Cannon, Cap'n. On the port side."

  "Prepare to defend yourselves, men," Riordan shouted.

  Though there was an air of expectancy about them, there was no sense of panic. These seamen had spent a lifetime doing battle against just such ships.

  Several cannons were uncovered and braziers of fire were prepared on deck to arm them. Scabbards were strapped on, swords unsheathed. Knives glinted at waists or were tucked into boots. Several of the men carried dueling pistols.

  As the rogue ship drew closer, many of the men stripped down for battle, removing jackets, hats, even shirts.

  Ambrosia peeled away her heavy jacket and tossed it aside. She cursed the billowing sleeves of her shirt, but

  saw that they wouldn't impede her ability to fight. Since she couldn't discard her shirt, she would simply ignore it. She checked the knife at her waist, and rejected the offer of a fellow seaman's scabbard.

  "I have no need. The sword will be in my hand, not tucked away out of sight."

  "Ye might be sorry, lass," the old seaman said. "Most of these pirates go after the armed sailors first. Those of us who don't show our weapons stand a better chance of surviving."

  "Armed or unarmed, once they see I'm a woman, they'll try to take me."

  "Aye, alive if possible," the old seaman said.

  She felt a sudden chill at the implication. "I'll survive." Her fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, and she lifted it, testing its weight. "If you'd like, I'll stay close and keep you safe as well."

  The old seaman smiled. "Ye're a feisty one, lass. I'll hear what ye have to say when the fighting's over."

  "I'd rather let my sword do my talking."

  "Get down," someone shouted.

  Ambrosia saw a stream of fire and heard a tremendous roar as a cannonball struck the side of the Undaunted. There was the sound of wood splintering as the deck beneath their feet trembled and shook. Almost at once it was answered by a volley of cannonfire from aboard their own ship. With a burst of deafening noise and a tail of fire that shot straight up in the air, two cannonballs struck the hull of the approaching vessel. It seemed to shudder, then continued on its course, heading directly into their path.

  The Undaunted absorbed a second cannonball attack that had flames streaking across the bow. Ambrosia felt a momentary rush of fear as the rogue ship pulled alongside, casting a dark shadow over the deck where she stood. Her fear deepened as its crew let out a wave of bloodcurdling screams before leaping across the rail and challenging any sailor in their path.

  And then there was no time for fear as Ambrosia was thrust into battle. And what a battle. At first it was almost impossible to hear over the roar of cannons and the screaming of the attacking sailors.

  These sailors were unlike any she'd ever known. Filthy. Some with feet bared; others with rags tied about their feet in place of boots. Their clothes torn and dirty. Hair matted and streaming down their backs. While they fought with swords and knives, they cursed and swore and screeched like madmen.

  With each victory they let out whoops of pure glee. They were, Ambrosia realized, enjoying the killing. Each dead Englishman was a trophy to be displayed. They called to one another and actually laughed as they pointed to another victim.

  A sailor came at her waving his sword. She dispatched him with a single thrust, then turned to face two more. Out of the corner of her eye she noted that the old sailor was crouched behind her, cowering beside a burning brazier. She managed to run through the first attacker, but the second ducked her thrust, then came up swinging. Before he could pin her she danced, turned and caught his shoulder with a powerful blow. Giving him no time to recover, she ran him through with her sword.

  She looked up to see Riordan facing two swordsmen, with another coming up on his flank.

  "Behind you, Riordan."

  He turned, evading the man's sword, and managed to run him through before returning his attention to the first two.

  "Watch yourself, lass."

  At the old man's shout, she turned and found herself facing a line of advancing pirates, all wielding swords.

  She managed to fight off three of them before the old sailor finally came to her aid, unsheathing his sword and protecting her back. Just as she fought off the last of them there was a tremendous explosion as another cannonball smashed into the side of the Undaunted. The ship shuddered beneath her feet. Smoke billowed, and flames could be seen coming from belowdecks.

  Choking in the thick black smoke, Ambrosia struggled to make her way toward the rail. Just as she got there and leaned far over to fill her lungs with fresh air, she felt the sharp sting of a blade and a sticky warmth as blood streamed down her arm. She turned. But before she could lift her sword in defense, she saw Riordan's blade run the man through.

  Dazed, she managed to say, "I ... didn't see him."

  "Luckily, I did." He turned and took out two more swordsmen, but before he could take out a third, Ambrosia moved in, sending the man over the rail.

  "Newt!" At her cry, Riordan turned and saw the old man fighting off a score of swordsmen.

  Both Riordan and Ambrosia leapt to his defense. The three stood back to back, swords flashing, blades slicing, making quick work of the last of the rogue sailors.

  When there was a lull in the fighting, Riordan turned to her. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "You've been wounded."

  She touched a hand to the warmth that soaked her sleeve. "It's nothing."

  "Nothing?" He strode forward.

  Just then there was a cry and they
looked up to see the lad, Brandon, facing a bearded swordsman who, though wounded, had backed him against the rail, which was tilting precariously.

  "Nay!" With a shout, Ambrosia charged the man, her sword lifted in challenge.

  The man turned and met her with his sword upraised. Before the others could intervene, their blades slashed viciously, again and again. And though Ambrosia was skilled, this swordsman was bigger and stronger. With each thrust of his blade, he drove her closer and closer to the rail. Seeing what he planned, she danced out of the way, refusing to be pinned. But the movement cost her. His sword pierced her shoulder, opening another wound.

  "Ambrosia." With a cry of outrage Riordan charged across the distance that separated them.

  Before he could reach her, she slipped on a puddle of blood. Her feet flew out from under her. And before anybody could save her, she slipped over the rail and fell into the sea.

  Desperate, Riordan ran the man through, then tossed his sword aside and leapt overboard.

  As he hit the water, he felt his heart plummet. Ambrosia was nowhere to be seen.

  The water was choked with debris. Bodies. Splinters of wood from the two damaged ships. Gunpowder, which turned the waves inky black.

  In a panic, Riordan swam underwater until his lungs screamed for air. But there was no sign of Ambrosia. He surfaced, shoving aside each barrier, desperate for the slightest movement that would indicate someone alive and struggling.

  "Ambrosia!" He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted into the mist that had settled over the ocean. Where was the morning sunlight? he wondered. Why had it failed him when he most needed it?

  "Ambrosia!" He swam between two bodies, feeling a wave of such despair he was nearly overcome with it. He wouldn't allow this to be her fate. He couldn't.

  "Riordan."

  At the faint sound of her voice, he turned. She was nearly the length of the ship away, clinging to a piece of wood and drifting farther away with each pull of the tide.

  With strong, powerful strokes he reached her and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, Ambrosia. I was so afraid."