Page 76 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Twelve

Erroll took the final step from the lower deck onto the upper deck and sighted the captain on the port side of the ship. The bow lamp in the binnacle had been dimmed, but moonlight illuminated the looking glass he peered through, aimed at the Scottish coastline. Erroll crossed to him.

“My lord,” the captain said, as Erroll stopped beside him. “Have a look at this.” Captain Mercantile handed him the spyglass. “To the north there, in the small cove.” He pointed.

Erroll fitted the glass to his eye and slowly scanned right until moonlight illuminated the tip of a mast beyond the rocky crags on the coastline.

“I would say the ship is a brigantine,” the captain said.

Erroll discerned a second mast. “You have a good eye.”

“According to my map, they set anchor in a small cove just around that bend ahead,” Mercantile said. “Well away from any port. Do you have much trouble with pirates in the channel here?”

“None.” Erroll lowered the glass. “With Trafalgar behind us and the Barbary Coast War nearly two years past, the seas are safer than they have been in decades. If Jefferson steers clear of our ocean we might be able to deal with Old Bony post haste and settle back into our lives.” Such as they were. Erroll returned the glass. “I suspect the brigantine anchored in that cove in order to deal with an unexpected problem.”

“Might they have gone ashore for water or hunting?” the captain asked.

“If the captain has a taste for game bird.”

Erroll thought of the excellent meal he’d shared with Miss Crenshaw earlier that evening. If the brigantine’s captain had a cook as skilled—and beautiful— he would certainly find reason to keep her busy in the galley…and his bed. Something Erroll should be working on, instead of stopping to help a ship in trouble. The lady had agreed to bake another batch of bread thus ending the negotiations for her bath with his acquiescence.

The thought of indulging in more of her rolls tomorrow—and the thought of her naked in the captain’s massive tub at this very moment—were enough to induce Erroll to order Captain Mercantile to slow their speed. He would hate to reach their destination before he’d had a chance to enjoy more rolls…and her. A mere fantasy. Oscar wasn’t about to let her out of his sight long enough for Erroll to kiss her, much less strip her naked. Not to mention, Somerset stood guard along with the brute to ensure the ladies’ privacy while they bathed. That left only the pleasure of the morrow’s bread making for Erroll to enjoy.

“Do you know this area?”

Captain Mercantile’s question intruded upon the mental picture of Miss Crenshaw at the counter pounding her bread batter into submission wearing nothing but a white apron.

“Yes, I do,” Erroll said. “My father owns land on this side of the island. Travel by coach is impossible from here, which is why I wanted to put in at Tobermory in the north. Let’s have a look at that ship, Captain.”

Captain Mercantile called an order to change course and, twenty minutes later, they glided into the cove with Erroll and the captain on the quarterdeck. The captain stood ready with a megaphone while Erroll scanned the ship through the spyglass. His gaze snagged on the swivel guns mounted to the side of the ship. They appeared well kept. A shout went up and Erroll shifted the glass. Half a dozen men on deck pointed at the collier. One man disappeared below deck and, a moment later, the man returned with another man Erroll wagered was the captain or first mate.

Once the collier drifted close enough, the captain shouted through the megaphone, “Captain Mercantile of the Margaret Ann. “Are you in need of assistance?”

“Captain Johnson, here,” the biggest man shouted back through a megaphone. “We discovered water in the bilge and put in to have a look.”

“How much water?” Mercantile called.

“A few inches.”

“Did you find the source of the leak?”

“No,” Johnson shouted, “but there’s no new water in the last two hours.”

“May I?” Erroll nodded to Captain Mercantile’s megaphone. The captain handed it to him, and both men took two steps to the left to stay closer to Johnson as the collier drifted while Erroll shouted into the megaphone, “What are you transporting?”

“Wool from Fort William.”

“My first mate is an engineer,” Captain Mercantile told Erroll. “He can have a look, if Johnson likes.”

Erroll relayed the information, but Captain Johnson shook his head. “Thank you, but no. We have lost precious time as it is. My investors will be none too pleased if we fall further behind.”

Erroll grinned. “Aye, investors are often a pain in the arse. As it happens, I represent Captain Mercantile’s investors. We delivered coal in Belfast and are sailing onto Tobermory to meet with prospective buyers about importing coal onto the island.” To Erroll’s relief, Captain Mercantile listened to this lie without betraying surprise.

“You are not familiar with these waters?” Captain Johnson called back.

“No,” Erroll replied. “We were told the game on the island is excellent, though. I anticipate a little hunting. This cove has easy access. What do you know of the bird game here?”

Captain Johnson took several steps to his left to keep in line with them and shouted, “I sent someone ashore earlier. My man said there was nothing of consequence within a half hour walk.”