Call of the Sea (9 page)

“Load the chain shot,” Captain Winters ordered.

Hoping to take the other ship by surprise and expose her broadside, Daniel pulled hard on the wheel. He’d have his work cut out for him. Even with the breeze, the ocean was calm—a benefit to the faster-moving enemy. Daniel would have to outmaneuver the xebec if they were going to make use of
The Siren Call’s
broadside cannons.

Lower to the water and wide, the xebec’s twin masts held giant triangular sails. The smaller ship practically skidded across the water’s smooth surface. The brigantine sailed past the pirate vessel at an angle too sharp to fire their guns. They’d have to make another pass.

As they swept by each other, Daniel got a look at the pirates scurrying about the deck of the enemy ship. Olive-skinned men tossed grappling hooks across the space, catching the rigging high on the masts. With ear-splitting cries, they swung across the space separating the ships on long ropes.

“Prepare to be boarded!” Captain Winters unsheathed his sword and pulled a pistol from his belt. He bounded down the steps to the main deck, aimed at one of the screaming savages.

The man’s feet landed on the brigantine’s deck as Winters fired.

The stunned pirate stumbled backward under the force of the shot’s impact, a ragged crimson hole spread across his bare chest. Eyes wide with shock, the pirate flipped over the rail and careened into the sea below.

The ring and clash of swords filled the air. While not seasoned combatants, the crew of
The Siren’s Call
had seen their share of fighting.

Daniel forced his concentration back to the other vessel as he set up for another broadside pass. With a tighter angle, he’d be able to fire the chain shot and tear the xebec’s lateen sails to ribbons—hopefully crippling her in the process. Brow creased, his muscles strained with the effort it took to come about. The rudder groaned under the stress and the canvas responded with a sharp whip and crack, filling with wind.

A smile pulled at Daniel’s lips. He’d lined himself up perfectly this time.

“Prepare to fire,” Captain Winters shouted.

The Siren’s Call
sliced through the water. Six loaded cannons faced the pirate vessel.

“Fire!”

Smoke shot from the barrel of the portside guns. The chain shot, comprised of two lead balls connected by iron links, tore through the foresail of the enemy vessel. The white canvas shrank and fluttered to the deck, useless. Another round connected with the aft mast, lead shot splintering the wood, but the mast remained upright.

More grappling hooks tore into the rigging as another wave of savages prepared to swing aboard. Clusters of fighting broke out as the crew rushed to meet the influx. Jacobs sliced his sword across the middle of a rushing pirate and turned to parry the blow of another. The blood of the fallen slicked the decking.

The call to “fire all guns” reached Daniel’s ears a split second before all hell broke loose.

Cannon fire from the xebec rent the air. The acrid smell of gunpowder burned his nostrils.
The Siren’s Call
shuddered with the smashing impact. Screams of rage mingled with the groans of the injured and dying.

Daniel’s fingers tightened around the wheel, holding
The Siren’s Call
steady. He squinted to see through the growing haze of smoke. His gaze caught on the captain, who sliced his blade through another of the pirates.

Pulling the sword free of the dying man, Winters thrust his writhing carcass toward a charging comrade. Intent on his new attacker, Captain Winters didn’t see Jashir at his back. Didn’t notice the black eyes taking aim with a flintlock pistol.

“Captain! Look out!” Daniel’s shout was drowned in the din of battle and death.

Fire exploded from the pistol. The shot pierced the Captain’s back, throwing him forward.

***

“Get yer arse up the riggin’, Ellis, and relieve Nelson.”

Ellie lifted her gaze to the Captain and nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

After handing the wheel to Barry, the round helmsman, Ellie gave her skullcap a tug to ensure it stayed put and crossed the deck to the mizzenmast. She scaled the ropework with agility. The wind whipped at her clothing and sent a shiver through her.

Once she reached the top, Ellie poked her head over the rim of the crow’s nest. “Sleeping again, Nelson?”

Nelson glanced up from his book, cracked a smile. “Not this time.” He quirked a brow. “My shift over already?”

“Aye, Captain Harris sent me up.” Ellie climbed into the basket as Nelson got out. She grabbed the spyglass and knelt down in the nest. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m up here.”

“I’ll do my best.” Nelson grinned and scaled down the rigging, leaving Ellie to her duties.

She lifted the spyglass to her eye, scanned the horizon along the port side of
The Surf Runner
. An endless sea of shimmering blue met her gaze. She shifted position and repeated the process to starboard, sweeping the glass left to right.

The glass stopped.

Sails?

Ellie lowered the instrument and squinted against the glare of the sun on the breakers. She studied the tiny spot on the horizon, checked the glass again. Definitely another ship
.
“Sails to starboard, Captain!”

Captain Harris’s reply floated up to her. “Friend or foe?”

She peered thought the spyglass, frowned. Ellie leaned over the rail, her eyes catching on the tall barrel-chested form of Captain Harris. “Not sure yet, but she looks like a brig.”

Captain Harris turned to the main deck. “Man yer stations, men! All hands at the ready!” He swept his gaze back up to Ellie. “Ellis! Keep an eye on ’er. Let me know if she shows ’er colors.”

“Aye, Captain.” Ellie returned her attention to the glass, studying the ship for any sign of her intentions. The square-rigged topgallant sails and royals marked her as a brigantine and most likely friendly, but she wasn’t about to take chances. Not with the recent increase in attacks on English ships by both the Dutch and North African Corsairs.

The ship drew closer.

A tingle started at the base of Ellie’s neck and trickled down her spine. The burning ember of familiarity sparked to life in her chest. Her heart froze when the vessel finally raised its colors. The brig flew the flags of Winters Shipping—
The Siren’s Call
.

Ellie dropped the spyglass and her hands grasped the rail, fingers curled so tight her knuckles whitened.

Papa!
She took a deep breath, rolled the sudden tension from her shoulders, and called down to the deck. “She’s a friendly, Captain!” Was her father really aboard?

While the brig was her father’s first ship and his favorite, he did own a few others. Ellie scrambled for the spyglass, chest tight. With shaking fingers, she lifted it to her eye and searched the deck for her father. Would he even recognize her?

She sat back, gathered her knees to her chest and hugged them tight.
Maybe I can just hide up here until they go away.

Ellie wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want that either. If she were brutally honest with herself, she wanted to see her father, missed him more than she cared to admit.

As
The Siren’s Call
drew closer, she was able to make out the shapes scrambling about the deck. The olive-skinned men with flowing pants and bare chests were not Papa’s crew. Her brow furrowed and her heart plummeted.

Pirates!

Ellie jumped to her feet and pointed across the waves. “Pirates, Captain!” Pulse hammering in her ears, Ellie climbed out of the crow’s nest and hurried down the rigging. “Pirates have taken
The Siren’s Call
!”

A panting Captain Harris reached Ellie as her feet touched the decking. Worry lines etched his forehead. “Ye sure, boy?”

Ellie nodded. “Positive, Captain.”

“Man the cannons! Prepare to come about!” Captain Harris withdrew his pistol, checked it with narrowed eyes before stuffing it back into his belt. He glanced at Ellie. “Arm yourself and get on the wheel, boy. Send Barry to me at the cannons.”

Ellie bobbed her head and bolted for the quarterdeck. Tendrils of panic wormed their way through her stomach.
Where the hell is Papa?

Upon reaching the quarterdeck, Ellie fell to her knees and lifted the heavy chest lid. She grabbed her cutlass from inside and sheathed it at her hip. Slamming the lid shut again, she lurched to her feet. Ellie took the helm from Barry, sending him to the captain. Wrapping damp palms around the wheel, she turned her attention to the oncoming ship.

Their sloop would be no match for the heavy guns of
The Siren’s Call
. She’d have to outmaneuver them to have a chance. Ellie pulled hard on the wheel. The ship responded with a flap of canvas, swinging to port. Her eyes sought Captain Harris. The painful realization they were about to fire upon her father’s ship hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

Harris raised his sword.

Ellie held her breath.
Please don’t let Papa be aboard.

“Fire all cannons!” Captain Harris swung his arm downward. The cannons answered his command with a deafening concussion. Smoke exploded from the ends.

Screams of both anger and pain mixed with the sound of splintering wood as the shots found purchase.

The muffled shout of “Fire!” rang from across the water. A second volley of guns rent the air. Gunpowder burned Ellie’s nostrils and stung her eyes. The quarterdeck stairway exploded to her right, a jagged chunk of wood grazing her shoulder and throwing her to the ground. Searing heat radiated down to her fingertips. Gritting her teeth, she crawled to the other side of the helm, pulled at the wheel’s smooth handles.

One.

Two.

Three rungs.

The Surf Runner
veered hard to port.

Ellie scrambled to her feet.

“Reload the cannons!” Captain Harris’s voice carried to the helm. “Swing ’er about, Ellis!”

Ellie glanced over her shoulder, made a quick distance calculation. Her gaze swung up the rigging. She yanked on the steerage, eyes glued to the sails. Right on cue, the sheets of white canvas caught wind and snapped to attention. The ship sliced through the waves in a tight arc until
The Surf Runner
faced
The Siren’s Call.

Taking a deep breath, Ellie clamped down on her apprehension and steeled herself for another pass.

Chapter Eleven

The thunder of cannon fire roused Daniel from the depths of unconsciousness. The mingled scents of hay and dirt assaulted his nose, while his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He licked cracked lips, tasting dust and blood. Unfamiliar shouted voices and the scuffle of feet overhead urged him to crack open an eye. A horizontal view of a wide-planked floor welcomed him back to reality. A groan crawled up his parched throat.

“Ye’re awake! ’Bout time.”

Daniel turned his head toward the voice, vision blurring. He squinted, waited for his eyes to focus. “Jacobs?”

The older man squatted, leering at him from behind thick iron bars.

“Why are you in a cage?”

“We, sir.”

Daniel frowned and pushed up on his hands and knees. Nausea rolled through his stomach. Once he’d swallowed the urge to retch, he swung his eyes back to Jacobs. “What?”

“We, sir.
We’re
in a cage, or rather cages.”

Memory crashed in on Daniel, stealing his breath. “The captain?” He’d seen the wounds, knew the answer before the words passed his lips.

Jacobs shook his head, dropped his weary gaze. “They tossed his body to Davey Jones.”

Daniel blew out a slow breath. He shifted his weight, careful not to move his pounding skull too much, and settled his rump on the floor. Shoulders slumped, he gathered his knees up and rested his forearms on them. A vice tightened around his heart. The captain had been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood, and now he was gone. Stuffing the swell of grief threatening to overtake him, Daniel lifted his head and took a look around their prison.

Rusty iron cages lined both sides of a wide walkway, four on each side of the ship. Each of the cells housed a handful of battered and frightened crewmembers. A prickle of familiarity struck Daniel, and it took him only a moment more to realize where they were.

They were all still on
The Siren’s Call
. The pirates had tossed them in their own brig.

Cannon fire cracked the air, followed almost immediately by a splintering, hull-shuddering impact.

Daniel covered his head with his arms as dirt rained down on them from the deck above. “Who the hell is attacking us now?”

“Not sure.” Jacobs scrambled to the corner of his cage. “Hoping for the Royal Navy, myself.”

“Whoever they are, they’re blowing holes in our ship.”

“Your ship.”

Daniel shot a look at Jacobs. “How do you figure that?”

“Easy.” The helmsman’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Captain Winters is dead and you’re first mate. That makes you captain and
The Siren’s Call
your ship, and her crew, your responsibility.” Jacobs swept his gaze up the row of cages across from him and back to Daniel. “So, Captain O’Roarke, what are you going to do about that?”

Good damned question.
Daniel struggled to his feet and crossed his cell on quivering legs. He winced as the lump on the back of his skull beat in thundering protest. Emitting a grunt, he scanned the grimy faces looking back at him from the other cages. He counted twenty-three. They’d set sail from England in search of the captain’s daughter with almost seventy.

Thudding sounds echoed from above, as if crates of cargo were being dropped on the deck. Two dozen heads turned toward the ceiling.

More muffled shouting.

Daniel strained to make out the words.

Swords clashed, the violent song of combat unmistakable. Shuffling noises, more shouts.

Fighting.
We’ve been boarded again.

***

The ragtag band of corsairs never stood a chance. The crew of
The Surf Runner
overwhelmed their paltry numbers with minimal effort and no loss of life.