“Captain!”Alden’s voice echoed through the fog.Then his face appeared, sweat streaking his brow.“The men are tending the damage.Are you all right?”
Caleb blinked, drawing a ragged breath.The roar of the sea faded, the ship’s motion stilled—as though time itself paused.
In the eerie silence, only his heartbeat drummed.Th…ump, Th…ump, Th…ump.
He turned toward the spot where Desi had vanished.
She was there!No longer in his sister’s pale-blue gown but clad again in that black skin of hers, luminous against the smoke.
Sound returned.The ship pitched.The crew shouted.Caleb rubbed his eyes.She smiled.
Rourke burst up from below, grinning through soot.“Tiller were splintered, Cap’n, but we’ve lashed a capstan bar across it.She’ll hold awhile.Plugged the hole, too, an’ we’re pumpin’ like mad.”
“He’s right, Cap’n!”Shorty cried.“She’s answerin’ now!”
Caleb looked again at Desi, heading his way.His heart leapt as she stepped beside him.
“Why do I always return in the middle of a battle?”she teased, a flicker of humor behind her eyes.
Alden tipped his head.“Welcome back, Miss Starr.Again.”
Caleb took her hand.Warm.Real.Life flooded him—strength, resolve, purpose.
“Belay that last order, Liam!”he shouted, renewed fire in his voice.“Mr.Keg, bring up two tar buckets, the metal ones.Fill them with pitch and set them alight!”
Keg blinked.“Sir?”
“Do it!Let Montverre think we’re burning.”
Alden’s grin spread wide.“Brilliant, Captain.”
Caleb met Desi’s gaze—so much unsaid between them—but duty claimed him.She seemed to understand and, with a slight nod, slipped below.
Moments later, oily smoke billowed upward, dark and thick, shrouding the quarterdeck.
“Shorty!”Caleb called.“Steer her wild, lad.Make her yaw like a drunk in a gale!”
“Aye, Cap’n!”
“Liam, loose the foretops’l!Let it seem we’re fleeing for our lives!”
Men scrambled aloft.The sails thrashed, the wind teasing them into chaos.Perfect.Let Montverre think Providence mocked them.
“Hold fire,” Caleb warned.“Not a spark till I give the word.Load the larboard battery, grape and bar-chain both!”
TheSentineldrifted erratically, a wounded beast feigning weakness.Caleb watched the French frigate alter course, hunger in her approach.
“Load the guns with bar-chain!Run ’em out but keep the touch-holes covered!”
Alden shielded his eyes against the smoke.“He’s taking the bait!”
“She’s closing fast!”Liam cried.“Two hundred yards—one-fifty—one hundred!”
“He wants the Ring,” Caleb muttered.“He’ll not risk sinking us.”Then cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted, “Silence the guns!Wait for my mark!”
The frigate loomed, gunports open like black maws.The wind shifted, a divine whisper.“Helm hard to starboard!”he roared.“Raise the mains’l!Catch the wind!”
TheSentinelanswered, timbers groaning as she swung broadside.Sunlight pierced the haze, glinting along her bronze muzzles.
