“Wait for my mark,” Devlin called, the muscles in his arms burning with the effort of keeping the rudder steady. Another wave caught the ship and lifted it up. With the sail counterbalancing Devlin’s steering, they barely managed to stay on course. “Climb. Now!”
Monty made his way up the rigging with remarkable speed and agility for a man of his size.
“Is he tethered?” Devlin asked Bronswick.
“Aye, Captain.”
“All right then,” Devlin muttered as another wave approached. “Hold on!”
When Devlin glanced back up, Monty was helping another crewmember secure the sail. The task immediately made the ship easier to steer. And then Monty was climbing back down. He reached the deck and removed the tether, started making his way toward Devlin.
The stern rose as a wave grew beneath it, water spilled onto the deck from all sides, and then a sharp wind whipped across the stern, smacking Devlin straight in the face. When he opened his eyes once more, Monty was gone.
“Man overboard!”
The call confirmed what Devlin’s brain had refused to grasp. “Bronswick!” His quartermaster was at his side in an instant. “Heave to using the anchor. I’m going in after him.” Devlin rushed forward, shouting instructions as he went for a rope to be readied. “We must make haste,” he ordered as he glanced out over the side. Monty wasn’t very far and Devlin would bloody well reach him if it was the last thing he did.
A rope was secured to his waist while he pulled off his coat and boots.
“Bring to, an anchor,” Bronswick shouted.
The bow hit a wave, soaking the deck and everything on it. Devlin glanced back briefly, intending to signal to Bronswick, except his wife was somehow there now, frantically clinging to a handrail, and Devlin’s heart seemed to stop beating. He had no time for this. And what the hell was she thinking anyway, to step onto the deck in this sort of weather? Angered by her foolish behavior and the added concern he now had for her safety, he barked an order for someone – anyone – to take her below.
And then, without further hesitation, he dove into the water, submerging himself in silence. Until he broke the surface and reentered the storm. Frantically, yet with the control he knew he required, he took a moment to get his bearings. The ship was behind him, which meant that Monty had to be more or less…there…
Thank God they were off the coast of Africa and not in the North Atlantic. He doubted he’d freeze to death, but instead he might drown. Or Monty might if Devlin didn’t reach him fast enough. Staying afloat while fighting the waves was a difficult battle, more so for Monty, whose coat and boots would be weighing him down.
Devlin caught a quick glimpse of his head, and then it was gone as a wave swept between them. He started swimming toward the spot where he believed Monty to be. One arm reached forward while the other came up and over. The sea swelled beneath him, halting his progress and pushing him back. Good God, he had to save him, he simply had to.
Already exhausted from handling the ship, Devlin forced his body into compliance and kept swimming until he was sure his arms would give up. Panting for breath, he paused to check his location once more. And then he spotted his friend, arms flailing as he struggled against the waves, his body turned in the wrong direction.
“Monty!” Devlin’s voice was frayed by the wind, and he knew there was nothing to do but keep going. He had to. He simply had to.
And so he did, until there was only a yard between them. “Grab my hand,” Devlin shouted while doing his best not to choke on a large gulp of water.
Monty splashed around until he saw him. He reached for Devlin, their fingers brushed, and then Devlin felt the hard pull of the tether. “The line’s gone taut. You have to come closer.”
Gasping for breath, Monty struggled to do as Devlin asked, but the waves were no easy foe to conquer, and it was clear that his strength was starting to fail. Devlin reached out again. Now there were two more inches between them.
No. It wouldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. Not with Monty lost at sea.
He needed something – an extension of sorts. If he undid the tether, the rope would be longer and he would be able to reach. It was a mad idea, a dangerous one, but Devlin knew he would never forgive himself if he chose not to try. “Keep swimming toward me! Stay as close as you can!”
The knot was tied in such a way that it took Devlin only a second to widen the loop around his waist, grab it by one hand, and pull his legs through. Extending both arms, he held on tight to the loop, prayed it would not come undone, and offered Monty his free hand.
His friend barely caught it before a wave rolled over both of their heads. They went under, tumbling, and with their weight trying to drag them apart. But now that Devlin had grabbed him, there was no way in hell he was letting him go. He held on tight and pulled Monty back up with him into the pelting rain.
Cassandra bangedon her door for what had to be the hundredth time even though she knew it was pointless to do so. But it was better than turning hysterical. According to Devlin’s orders, she’d been locked away in her cabin, and after insisting she had to be let out to see to her daughter, Penelope had been deposited in the cabin with her.
“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Penelope told her hopefully. “He has to be.”
Yes. He did. Cassandra agreed with that. She couldn’t very well murder him if he didn’t come back. But if a mere carriage could end Timothy’s life, how could she possibly hope for Devlin to leap into the ferocious sea and survive?
The ship lurched, sending her stumbling. She steadied herself against the bulwark, then made her way to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not much better. Oof! It’s when the ship falls…” She hung her head over the pot she’d brought with her. “I feel like I’m going to be sick but then I’m not.”
“Maybe you should try to sleep?”
