A gust blew, and the groan of strained ropes came from next to him where the longboat hung. His pulse stirred, a restless thrum beneath his skin as the shape of a plan took root. He swung his gaze across the ship, counting, strategizing. A helmsman, the lookout in the crow’s nest, and two men on night watch. Only four men on deck. A barebones crew as the fighters below rested before battle.
He pushed off from the railing, walking with purposeful steps toward the forecastle. When he was a few feet from the crates she sat on, he stopped at the railing. He didn’t look at her directly, keeping his gaze pointed toward the horizon.
“Miss Montclair?”
She stiffened, keeping her back to him. “Go away.”
He edged closer, leaned in enough for the soft scent of jasmine to wash over him. “Listen to me carefully. We are going to escape.”
That caught her attention. She spun toward him but he shook his head. “Don’t look at me. They can’t know we are talking.”
He didn’t wait to see if she listened; instead, he unfastened the knot in the sheet line tied to the cleat nearest him. “When the ship enters the river, we have a slim window of opportunity. The lookout will be preoccupied with keeping us off the sandbars, and the night watch will be standing by, ready to adjust the sails. They won’t be watching us.”
Silence.
After giving the sheets too much slack, he yanked a bowline knot as hard as he could. Not many men could undo one that tight without slicing the rope with a knife.
“I’m going to cut the longboat loose. If they don’t notice, we’ll jump in and use the boat to get to shore. There’s a place not far from the lighthouse, Miller’s Rest. An older Revolutionary War veteran and his sons run it. If we make it that far, we can secure horses. With luck, we’ll make it to the Ross estate before Thorne.”
He swallowed and pretended to inspect the knot. “See that light ahead to your starboard? It’s the lighthouse. We’ve about an hour until we reach it. As soon as we draw even with it, meet me near the longboat. It’s a blind spot for the helmsman.”
Time passed like a slow match burning toward a keg of gunpowder. He moved with care, each action crafted to look routine. As the lighthouse loomed larger, he made his way back to the longboat. With a quick glance around, he made short work of one of the knots holding it. With a groan, the boat shifted, then swung down to dangle from the remaining line. One step closer to freedom.
Josephine drifted over, floating across the deck like a shadow. She leaned over the railing. “Won’t they see us?” she whispered, glancing up toward the crow’s nest.
Isaac nodded toward the sky. “The clouds are covering the moon. They’ll have a hard time spotting us in the shadows.” He began to untie the remaining knot, cursing as it didn’t budge, cemented together with years of salt buildup and the tension of the boat swaying from it.
“Would this help?” She waved a dagger in front of his face. His dagger.
“Where did you get that?” He grabbed it and began to slice at the rope.
“During the battle yesterday, Thorne locked me in his cabin. I found it in his desk.”
Clever girl. He grinned and slowed his movement. “Crouch down.”
She ducked behind a barrel as the blade slid through the last oiled strands. The longboat plummeted and hit the water with a heavy splash. Isaac held his breath, one eye on the quarterdeck. A few moments passed and he let out a slow exhale, eyes flicking to the helmsman—still watching the horizon, oblivious. He wiped a hand across his face, sweat trickling down his temple, his heart drumming in his chest.
“Alright. Follow me. If we jump farther back, it won’t be as dangerous.” He stayed hunched down and hugged the railing.
One of the men on watch began climbing the ratlines on the port side of the deck and let out a whistle. They froze as he shouted to the other watchman. “Go get the rest of the men. It’s time.”
Isaac’s pulse jumped. In less than a minute the deck would be swarmed with pirates. His gaze shot toward Thorne’s closed door and he glanced over the railing. This spot would have to work.
He caught Josephine’s waist and hoisted her over, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Jump as far out as you can to keep from getting pulled beneath the wake.”
She nodded. Took a deep breath.
He caught her wrist. “You can swim, right?”
She flashed him a sharp look, eyes burning. With a scowl, she yanked her hand free and leaped into the night.
His heart caught as she disappeared into the frothing waves below. With one last glance over his shoulder, he dove after her. A rush of airwhistled in his ears as his stomach lurched with the fall. A heartbeat later, the cool bite of the sea swallowed him whole. Dark water pressed around him in a thick, choking weight, muffling the sounds of the night and pulling at his limbs with relentless force. He plunged deep, kicking away from the looming hull sliding above him. Though he couldn’t see it, the water trembled, vibrating with the passing of its massive frame as it sliced through the waves.
The currents tangled around his legs, fighting him, but he kicked harder, struggling to move faster through the darkness. His lungs burned, the need for air growing desperate, but still, he pressed on, fighting against the pull of the sea. Finally, the raging water stilled and he surfaced, swiping at the sting of salt in his eyes. He spun, searching for her dark hair.
Nothing.
Damn it.
