Page 60 of Part of Your World

Wait. Octavia looked from one to the other. Which one was the right one? The poor lighting made it impossible to tell.

She edged toward Horace. Logic dictated he'd have the real one.

"Now!" Zane yelled the word, and all at once, both journals flew through the air.

Octavia gasped and moved to chase the book Horace threw. Horace lunged forward and tackled her directly into Gunther.

She screamed and flailed until Gunther tossed her aside. That's when she spotted Dirk writhing in the sand with Zane Erickson atop him throwing a punch to the smuggler's jaw.

Dirk roared and bucked. He'd make quick work of the pup, she had no doubt, but she had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

"Signal the boat," she cried, not caring which man carried out her order. "Signal the boat!"

All she'd done so far was ask a man to return her personal property. She could talk her way out of that. Dirk and Gunther would sail away with the tide, leaving nothing beyond the Ericksons' word that any abduction had taken place. No proof. As long as the boy was gone.

She crawled through the sand and beach grasses as the men fought behind her. Gunther had dropped both his gun and his lantern when Horace felled him. Seizing the lantern, Octavia pushed to her feet and climbed to the top of the dune nearest her. A dull thumping sound had her glancing over her shoulder. A third man on a horse approached. The sand beneath her feet shifted as if it were falling through a nearly empty hourglass. Turning back toward the sea, she held the lantern aloft and slid back the metal shutter to expose the light. Moving the shutter back and forth, she flashed the prearranged signal.

Boat in sight, Muriel pushed through the last few yards of water to reach the hull. She pressed her palm against the wooden planks at the waterline, and relief coursed through her. She'd made it! But getting here was only half the battle. Her muscles ached from the exertion, but energy thrummed through her as her attention immediately shifted to the next stage—getting onboard without being seen.

Gentle waves slapped against the hull. Rigging creaked. Edges of the canvas sail not fully secured flapped lightly in the breeze. All sounds that could mask her arrival.

Feeling along the edge of the boat, she made her way to the rear. The crew would be looking for a signal from shore, so they would likely be in the bow of the boat. No one should be prowling the stern.

Recalling all the times as a child when she'd swum around her da's work skiff and climbed in using the rudder as a stepstool, she grabbed hold of the vertical sternpost that served as the backbone of the schooner and sunk her legs down into the water to feel for the rudder. The schooner was a good deal larger than her da's skiff, but she was a good deal taller now than she'd been as a young sprite. She found the upper curve of the rudder blade with one foot and shifted until she secured a steady position. After bringing in her second foot, she pushed upward slowly, so as not to make a splash. Her shoulders rose out of the water, and her hands adjusted to a higher position on the sternpost. Keeping her weight inward, she clung to the hull as she straightened. Her hips and waist hit the night air, sending shivers through her as the water released its grip. She reached for the rail edge and peeked into the boat before straightening to her full height. Coils of rope sat on the decking nearby, along with a barrel and a pile of rigging she couldn't identify. She spied no sailors, however. Praise the Lord.

Muriel stretched to her full height, looped her right arm over the railing then strained to hook her leg over as well. Gritting her teeth, she leveraged her hips upward until she rolled over the side and onto the deck. She lay atop the coiled rope she'd fallen upon for several seconds, listening intently for any clue that she'd been spotted.

A pair of male voices echoed from the front of the ship, about fifty feet away. She prayed no others were wandering about. Darting glances from side-to-side, she bent into a low crouch and used the aft deckhouse cabin as cover while she picked her way on silent feet to the middle of the ship, searching for Fletcher.

Deep shadows covered the schooner, hiding her, but also hiding her nephew.

"Fletcher," she whispered. "Where are ye?"

A muffled sound accompanied by the scrape of what could be a shoe on wood echoed a few feet ahead. Feeling exposed, she scurried forward and darted behind the main mast near the center of the schooner. When she peeked around the large beam, familiar wide eyes stared back at her above a dark-colored gag.

Fletcher!

After casting a quick glance ahead to ensure she'd drawn no one's notice, she rounded the mast, held a finger to her lips, then tugged the gag down past Fletcher's chin.

"Muriel? Ye gotta help me. They mean to throw me overboard while I'm trussed like a chicken." He sat on the deck, his back against the mast, his wrists bound in front of him, and a rope binding his ankles.

To ensure he couldn't swim. The vile pirates!

"I'll not let anythin' happen to ye. I promise." But she needed to find something sharp to cut his ropes. "I saw a hatchet hangin' from a peg on the cabin wall. I'll go fetch it."

Thank heaven for sailors needing to be ready to cut fouled rigging. She snatched the small axe from the wall and made her way back to Fletcher. She couldn't afford to draw attention with the loud thump brought on by a chop, and his ankles were too close together anyway. So she knelt in front of her nephew, stretched his feet an inch or two apart, and started sawing through the hemp.

"Did you see that?" One of the men from the front of the boat had turned, his voice carrying in their direction.

Muriel froze, her heart pounding.

"I'm gonna check on the boy."

"Wait," the second man said. "I think I see something on shore. Is that the signal?"

Muriel sawed with a frenzy. "If I can't get ye free in time, remember to float." She glanced up and met Fletcher's gaze. "Don't panic when ye hit the water. Just be still and float. I'll get to ye. I promise."

Fletcher pressed his lips together and nodded.