Ransome's Quest (10 page)

Not like Serena. No, it would have taken more than one man to haul a sodden Serena up the side of the ship yesterday. Holding Charlotte Ransome against the pull of the rope, he’d been concerned he might crush her delicate ribs. If she had not told him she also was engaged to be married, with her bobbed hair and her boyish frame he would not have guessed her age to be more than fourteen or fifteen. And Serena’s dresses on her gave her more the air of a child than her immature and illogical words and actions could do.

Yet there was something about Charlotte Ransome to make Salvador believe she had been through experiences no woman should have to face. After all, even when he had been his most threatening, with fear sparkling in her eyes, she had held her ground against him. And she felled Picaro and nearly managed to escape before they subdued her at Tierra Dulce.

After the dishes were cleared, Salvador dismissed Suresh. Charlotte moved to the leather-upholstered bench below the stern windows and stared out at the darkening horizon. Salvador leaned back in his chair, fingers laced over his sated stomach.

Such an odd contradiction of a girl-woman, at times seeming to be no more than a child and then surprising him with her maturity and grit.

She rose from the window seat and paced the short distance between the stern and the door.

He should have entertained her for dinner formally with his officers. He’d developed the habit of eating with them rather than alone so the empty table wouldn’t remind him of just how alone he truly was. Though, no matter how much he believed he could trust his men, he must keep his distance in order to maintain his position of command.

But need he keep the same distance with Miss Ransome? Here, perchance, was a kindred spirit. Someone who might help him through the grueling loneliness that held him clenched in its grip since the moment he’d bade Serena farewell on the dock in Philadelphia nine months ago.

“Miss Ransome—”

Without warning—or knocking—a hulking figure burst into the cabin. Charlotte squeaked and tried to back away, but the gown cut for Serena’s taller frame caught under her feet. She waved her arms, apparently trying to find something to break her fall.

Salvador jumped to his feet, but he wasn’t near enough.

Declan reached out one long arm and wrapped it around Charlotte’s waist. Stooped over to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling, he turned toward Salvador.

“Ship sighted, Cap’n. Off the starboard stern and closing. Lookout said he caught sight of the British ensign.”

Salvador tried to ignore the fact his first mate’s arm was still around Charlotte’s waist. Her head was lolled all the way back as she stared up at Declan, her lips slightly parted, eyes widened in astonishment.

“Loose all sheets and increase the distance between us. It’s possible the ship is headed toward Black River also and not purposely following us. To be safe, run up the Dutch pennant.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Declan grinned at Charlotte. “Miss.”

Charlotte reeled backward when Declan released her before leaving the cabin. Regaining her balance, she turned on Salvador. “How could you let that…that…Goliath take such liberties upon my person in that way?”

And then there were times when that girl-woman sounded more like Shakespeare’s shrew. Salvador arranged his expression into one of mild unconcern. “My first mate, Declan, holds claim to a greater share of any spoils this ship takes—other than mine, of course. Seems only fitting he should have as much opportunity as I to take liberties upon your person in that way.” That, and the fact he was Serena’s brother and the only person other than Suresh to whom Salvador could entrust Charlotte’s safety.

He bowed to her before taking up his hat and spyglass. At the door he paused. “Please do not jump from the window. I am down to my last pair of boots and would be very displeased if I had to ruin them by jumping in to save you—again.”

Charlotte crossed her arms, closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and turned her head away from him.

He laughed and let the door slam behind him.

“Report.”

“Lookout saw a ship off the larboard bow, but it’s disappeared into the gloaming, sir.” Second Lieutenant Wallis ducked into the sheltered wheelhouse. “Midshipman Jamison identified it as a frigate—likely fifth rate, about thirty-eight or forty-two guns. Believes he saw a Dutch pennant before we lost sight of her, sir.”

While Ned had tried to keep his hope from rising, the swell of disappointment told him he had not succeeded. “Keep on this tack. The charts of the harbor at Black River are less than two months old. We will dock in a few hours, and I will go ashore and begin conducting my investigation.”

Wallis and First Lieutenant Gardiner exchanged a glance. “Sir, we should go with you, just in case there is trouble.”

Ned regarded the two young lieutenants. He imagined neither of them had ever set foot into the types of establishment in which he’d been told to find his contact. He gritted his teeth against the irony.
He
had never been into an establishment like that. Having men he could trust guarding his back would probably be wise.

“Fine. Wallis, pick a crew for the boat.” He leaned in closer. “Some of the larger men, those skilled in hand-to-hand combat. I pray it will not be necessary, but we do not know into what we are sailing other than its reputation as a hive for piracy and villainy. It is wise to err on the side of caution.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Both lieutenants saluted and rushed off.

Ned returned to his cabin, but he could not return to the meal he had abandoned minutes earlier. At the cry from the lookout, he had clearly seen himself taking the other ship by surprise, finding it to be the pirates, and rescuing Charlotte. But with hundreds of ships in these waters at any given time, finding one—and one for which he did not know the name or who captained her—might prove impossible.

William believed in miracles. Ned tried to.

He stood at the round table in the center of the day cabin. Spread out in front of him were reports from other officers detailing their experiences with the pirates and privateers still operating in and around Jamaica. Other than rereading these again, he had no idea how to prepare himself for what he might face when he landed ashore in Black River tonight.

He certainly did not expect a brisk knock on the door less than an hour after returning to his quarters. He stood, turned his back to the table, and faced the door. “Enter.”

Lieutenant Gardiner did not come far into the room. “Sir, I hate to disturb you, but there is a disciplinary matter which requires your attention.”

Ned clasped his hands behind his back. “I am available to listen to this matter now.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gardiner entered, and two young men followed him into the room, both wearing stormy expressions.

Ned’s jaw tightened. Kent and Jamison were the two most senior midshipmen, captains of their watches and sharing command of the cockpit where the midshipmen berthed. Kent’s presence did not surprise Ned. After all, on the voyage over from England, Kent had been at the center of most of the mischief amongst the junior officers, as he had taken quite a dislike to Midshipman Charles Lott.

Perhaps there were such things as miracles. Had not God arranged a way to get Charlotte off the ship before her identity became known?

Kent and Jamison took up positions on either side of Lieutenant Gardiner, facing Ned.

“Report, Mr. Gardiner.”

“Captain, sir, Midshipman Kent and Midshipman Jamison had a disagreement. But rather than resolving it as gentleman, as future officers should do, the disagreement came to blows in the cockpit in front of the other midshipmen not currently on duty.”

Ned squinted against the dimness of the cabin. Yes, now he could see that both teens looked sure to sport a few bruises on their faces tomorrow. While Ned fully understood the frustration that could build after a long crossing and the cancellation of promised shore leave, as officers in training Kent and Jamison had certain expectations they must meet if they ever hoped to gain promotion.

He gave them the fiercest frown he could muster. Not trusting Kent to tell the whole truth, Ned turned to Jamison first. “Explain, Mr. Jamison.”

The ginger-haired boy cleared his throat. “Captain, I know how wrong it was to allow the disagreement to escalate into a fight. However, it was a matter of honor.”

Ned could not stop his eyebrows from rising. “A matter of honor? Whose?”

“It was a matter of honoring the memory of one who is no longer with us, sir. Mr. Kent was making disparaging remarks about Midshipman Lott, God rest his soul, sir.”

Ned’s stomach heaved as the ship hawed. How was it possible that, more than a month after she left the ship, Charlotte could still be causing problems? He sighed. “I understand it’s hard to listen to somebody else speak ill of a friend after they are…gone, but that is no reason to ignore the rules of decorum and behave as bad or worse than ordinary seamen.”

“But, sir, you did not hear what he was saying. He said Midshipman Lott was…was…
a woman
.” The last two words came out as a harsh whisper.

Ned caught Kent’s smirk from the corner of his eye but would not look at the other midshipman lest he betray more than he ought.

Jamison continued speaking. “Sir, he said he found something in Lott’s sea chest—something that proved Lott was an interloper, someone who was deceiving us.”

With his reactions now back under control, Ned looked at Kent. “What is this evidence?”

A gleam of what appeared to be malevolence sparkled in Kent’s pale blue eyes. He reached behind his back and under his jacket and withdrew something that he then held forward toward Ned.

Ned gaze down at the bundle of folded muslin cloths, momentarily confused.

“Sir, I found these hidden in the bottom of Lott’s sea chest. They’re…well, sir, of course you know what they are.”

Having spent his childhood and all of his leave time from the navy with only his mother and sister in a small house with little privacy…Ned swallowed hard. Kent was right. Ned did know what those were. Why had he not thought to send for Charlotte’s trunk when she ended up on
Alexandra
? Oh yes, because he had been out of his mind with yellow fever. “That is quite an assumption to make, Mr. Kent, from nothing other than a few pieces of cloth. While aboard this ship, Midshipman Lott served with distinction. Let nothing more be said—no more assumptions, no more accusations. Is that understood?”

“Aye, sir,” both boys answered, though Kent’s response sounded somewhat grudging.

“And there is to be no more fighting. For the crew to be united, the officers must be seen as united. Any further incidents of fighting will be met with the severest punishment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Midshipman Jamison, Midshipman Kent, you are hereby on continuous watch for the next twenty-four hours. Dismissed.”

Gardiner turned to leave with the boys.

“Lieutenant Gardiner, a moment.”

The first officer closed the door behind the boys and turned to face Ned again. “Aye, sir?”

“Have Lott’s sea chest brought to my quarters. I will see to the dispatch of any personal items and disposal of the rest once we return to Kingston.” And keep anything else that might point to Charles Lott’s true identity out of the hands of anyone who might want to expose her. “That is all, Mr. Gardiner.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

After his first officer’s departure, Ned sank into the closest chair at the table. He pressed the heels of his hands against his brows. Kent had no doubt made his accusations in front of at least a dozen midshipmen. With many of the boys still loyal to
Audacious
’s previous captain, and therefore to Kent, the rumor that Midshipman Charles Lott had been a woman in disguise would spread like fire in the powder magazine. And if Ned were the one to rescue her and bring her aboard, she would be recognized—and the steps he and Commodore Ransome had taken to protect her reputation, as well as their own careers, would be for naught.

H
e sat with his back to the wall. The public house crawled with naval officers—some in uniform, some not—out spending their month’s wages on ale and wenches. He sipped his port and leaned his chair back until it rested against the stones.