He strode to the far-left corner of the cabin, at the end of the wall of windows, where a narrow door seemed to disappear into the wall. He pulled a metal hook, which opened the door to reveal a diminutive wood-planked walkway half-surrounded by green-painted windows. It took two steps for Heather to reach the end, where a bench-like seat featured a hole in it leading directly to the ocean.
Good Lord. What if there’s wind—or a storm?Would the seawater not splash her arse? A shiver travelled down her spine at the thought. She’d best move swiftly.
She muttered a thank-you to Percy and ducked inside to perform her necessary functions. By the time she emerged, Percy had donned dry black breeches and boots and had towel-dried his hair.
He sat at the table, surrounded by maps, papers, and implements of which Heather knew nothing. Glancing up at her re-entrance, he gave her a wary smile. Heather’s pulse skipped, and she cleared her throat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, striding toward the washbasin to clean her hands.
“I intend to plan our route.” He hesitated. “Would you care to join me?”
She gave a silent nod as she returned to the chest of drawers and withdrew the too-large faded black muslin shirt. Retrieving the scissors and sewing implements, she took the proffered seat next to Percy at the table.
It was Percy’s turn to clear his throat. “I noticed you’d found a suitable location for your plants.”
“Oh, yes. I do hope that rope wasn’t important.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I’m pleased you found it useful.”
They lapsed into a brief discomfiting silence before Percy broke it. “I instructed Donovan to deliver the bucket of water once it was full. I don’t imagine it will be too much longer.”
“Thank you.” Hope flared at the prospect of reviving her plants. There were so few left…
“We are in a predicament,” Percy started, scrubbing at his face then pinching the bridge of his nose. “Pirates are not as common as they once were, due to raids, traps, and a powerful naval presence. Many of the ports pirates once considered a refuge have been overtaken by the navy and are now tokens of warning.” His pointed gaze locked on hers. “If we are discovered or—heaven forfend—caught by anyone, we will face the same fate as the men with whom we sail: the noose.”
Her throat tightened, but she nodded. She understood the repercussions of being accused of piracy, and she and Percy wereby no means prisoners on board this ship. They would certainly go down with the rest of the men, regardless of their innocence.
“Understood. Do you have a plan of where we might go?” she asked, turning back to her sewing. “We cannot return home aboard a pirate’s ship. We would not even make itnearEngland’s docks in this.”
“We must simply find another means of transport.”
She lifted a brow. “I would not call that simple, Percy.”
“In that you are correct.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I propose that we sail to a safe port and let the pirates take back their ship. Then, you and I will seek out a frigate that does not fly the Jolly Roger to take us home.”
Heather nodded. It seemed a sound enough plan. As much as she hated to consider fault with her leaping so keenly into her assignment, she now ought to reflect on what potential damage being seen at a pirate port might do to her reputation. Upon accepting her mission, she’d anticipated being ruined in the eyes of society, but she’d also expected to return to Bow Street to live and work as a runner and apothecary. But would clients visit a woman who was known to have willingly associated with pirates? Would her disreputable name damage the business?
All at once, a plan began to form like the dawn of a new storm in her mind.
“Once we dock, I should like to use a new name.” Surely then her reputation could be saved, if just a little.
A quick frown touched Percy’s brow. “A new name? What shall I call you?”
“I shan’t change my given name, but I shall take on a married name.”
He coughed, his dark skin flushing high on his cheekbones. “Pardon?”
She grinned at him. “It would help my reputation and my appearance if I were to travel as a widow rather than anunmarried woman. What are your thoughts on the nameMrs. Wood?”
His lips quirked. “It suits you, I believe.”
“Splendid. So, to which port are we sailing?”
Percy bent over the map, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he concentrated. “Truth be told, I’m uncertain where we are.” He bit his bottom lip as he opened the notebook and read the last entry, then compared the notes to one of the maps. “The battle was here,” he said, pointing. “And we’ve continued on a westward course, which would take us to approximatelyhere.”
His finger stopped at a point on the map, and Heather leaned forward to look. They were, of course, in the middle of nothing, a little dot somewhere between large bodies of land.
“It says in Butcher’s journal,” Percy continued, “that they left Ranter Bay two months ago, and a journey to Madagascar is far greater a distance than continuing on to the Americas.”
