Ransome's Quest (17 page)

“Captain Cochrane, there’s another ship coming toward us—from the other side of the bay. It isn’t flying any flag of identification but is signaling they are coming to render assistance.” Wallis’s thin chest heaved with his labored breathing, as if he’d run the length of the ship to share this news.

Could it be Shaw’s other ship luring them into a trap? Ned would not put his crew at further risk, yet could he risk ignoring the offer of assistance?

More pounding footfalls and the midshipman of the forecastle burst into the room. “Captain, you have to come see this—the message from the ship coming toward us.”

Rather than panicked, the boy appeared excited—along with a little confused.

Ned could not let his men see him as indecisive. He slapped his hat back on his head and followed the midshipman to the forecastle. Raising his glass, he looked at the row of small, colorful flags flying at the bow of the ship rounding the mountain on the other side of the bay’s mouth.

He blinked, shook his head, and looked again. Rather than flags corresponding to standard words, the typical way of sending messages from ship to ship, the vessel coming toward them had used flags to spell something.

C-H-A-R-L-E-S-L-O-T-T.

He spelled it to himself three times.
Charles Lott.
Charlotte. Hope took anchorage in his chest. Could it be? Was she not only aboard that ship, but safe enough to send a message meant to make him trust the other ship to be on his side?

“What does it mean, sir? Charles Lott. He died of yellow fever in Barbados.” The midshipman lowered his glass.

“It means…” Ned took a deep breath and prayed what he was about to say was true. “It means help is on the way. Signal the unidentified ship that we welcome their assistance.”

Ned returned to the quarterdeck, but his eyes stayed trained on the yet unidentified ship. Above him, the unfurled sails caught the wind and
Audacious
lumbered out of its hiding place, just as the bow of the pirate’s ship came into sight.

The stranger’s ship slipped toward the mouth of the bay, their larboard guns run out. Spyglass to eye, Ned searched the deck of the ship, looking for a familiar and beloved figure. But he recognized no one, not even the dark-haired man in what appeared to be a naval officer’s uniform standing on the quarterdeck issuing orders.

A deafening boom rent the air and smoke billowed from their protector’s side as all of the cannon let loose together.

Ned could not head to open water until he knew his benefactor to be safe. He ran to the forecastle. From here, the cannons had a good line of sight to the pirate ship.

“Fire as you bear!”

Audacious
rocked with the recoil of the half-dozen forward cannons that fired. As soon as the smoke cleared, Ned allowed himself a moment of relief. The pirate ship’s figurehead no longer had a head, and smoke billowed from the ship’s forecastle.

Their partner in the attack tacked toward open water.

“Loose sheets, set course for open water!” Ned’s officers relayed his orders to the crew, and with a shuddering turn,
Audacious
caught a good wind and made for the horizon, following their mysterious friend.

The frigate pulled ahead of
Audacious,
and Ned finally got a look at her stern.

Vengeance.

The gold-painted lettering struck a memory, but Ned could not quite grasp it. He returned to his cabin and searched through the stack of papers on his desk. Ah, that’s the page he remembered. He pulled out the list of known pirates and their ships. He skimmed it until he found
Vengeance.

“El Salvador de los Esclavos,” he read aloud. Strange name for a pirate. If his limited knowledge of Spanish did not fail him,
El Salvador
meant
the savior.
And
Esclavos
meant
slaves.
A pirate who was known as the Savior of the Slaves?

He returned to the quarterdeck. El Salvador’s ship had pulled even farther away from them on a southward bearing. “Don’t let them get away from us—loose tops’ls and make chase.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” His officers and crew hurried to follow his command. Just as the men who’d died in the bay had done. And just as the men who’d followed the first orders he’d given as a callow young acting lieutenant had done. And they had paid the price for his foolishness. How many more men would die following his commands?

He shook himself out of such thoughts. He could not allow doubts to rule him now. Not when Charlotte’s life could be at stake.

“Sir, they’re running.”

Ned did not need Wallis’s statement to verify what his own eyes told him.
Vengeance,
smaller and lighter, cut through the waves more efficiently and quicker than
Audacious.
But with more canvas spread than the frigate could raise,
Audacious
gained speed and began closing the gap between them.

“Signal
Vengeance
our identity and that they are commanded, by order of King George, to surrender and prepare to be boarded.”

Wallis’s eyes flashed with apprehension and, perhaps, an idea of exacting some justice for his fellow crewmembers. He ran to the forecastle to oversee the midshipman with the flags.

Ned watched the stern of
Vengeance
as they raised their flags to answer.

“They’re refusing to stop,” Lieutenant Duncan hissed through clenched teeth, lowering his spyglass.

“Fire a warning shot across their stern.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Duncan snapped his telescope closed and ran to the bow, stopping by the crew manning the forward most cannon. After taking careful aim, Duncan’s yell of “Fire!” echoed up the deck.

The cannonball gouged a chunk of wood from the top corner of the larboard quarter gallery, shattering the windows below it.

Ned flinched and stifled a groan.

Duncan rushed back to him. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought the aim was better—I did not mean to hit the ship, sir.”

“It is minor damage and—” Ned raised his glass again, “they are reefing sails.”

A new set of flags rose at the stern end of
Vengeance.

“No surrender, but they will agree to parlay, sir.” Wallis joined them, wiping sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “They have invited you and two officers to come aboard for talks.” His eager expression told Ned he hoped to be one of the officers.

“First
Lieutenant Wallis, you will have command while I am gone.” Ned prayed Wallis’s position as senior-most of the lieutenants would be short lived—that Gardiner was still alive and would resume his role as first officer soon. “Lieutenants Duncan and Hamilton—”

The two young men snapped to attention beside him.

“Get the jolly boat ready. Sailors are to be armed with pistols and dirks. You are both to carry two pistols and your cutlasses.” He called for the marine sergeant next. “Have your men line the side, with muskets at the ready.”

“Aye, sir.”

Ned’s steward brought his cutlass and strapped the scabbard so the sword hilt lay at Ned’s left hip, but Ned waved off the pistols. There was protection, and then there was antagonism.

His heart leaped into his throat as he descended
Audacious
’s side into the launch, and it remained lodged there several minutes later as he climbed the accommodation ladder up the side of
Vengeance
behind Lieutenant Duncan.

The pirate crew stood in eerie silence. Ned pushed Duncan forward when he attained the top of the ladder, and then he saw what had frozen the young man in place.

Standing only yards from the ship’s entry port was the tallest, fiercest-looking man Ned had ever seen. Wind conformed the man’s open-necked shirt to his body, showing him to be as solidly built as a first-rate man-of-war. The grim set of his face let Ned know he, Duncan, and Hamilton—who drew in a deep breath beside him—were not welcome.

“Cap’n Salvador is waiting for you in his cabin.” The giant had a strange accent to his English, possibly American.

Ned nodded and then followed the giant through the column of men gathered on the main deck. He recognized the build of this ship, a Dutch frigate. Dutch…could this be the ship they had followed into Black River?

The giant stopped at the door to the companionway leading down to the half deck. At the bottom of the stairs, a ginger-haired man met them. “This way, Captain.”

An East Indian opened the door to the captain’s cabin at the redhaired man’s knock and motioned Ned, Duncan, and Hamilton to enter.

Whatever Ned had expected to see, it wasn’t this—a cabin he might see on any Royal Navy ship. No extravagance, no outward signs of wealth.

The dark-haired man Ned had seen through his spyglass stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, wearing a fully adorned admiral’s coat. Duncan and Hamilton flanked Ned, both with their right hands resting on the hilts of their cutlasses.

“Captain Cochrane, welcome aboard
Vengeance.
I am El Salvador de los Esclavos, known to most as Captain Salvador.” Salvador inclined his head. Rather than having a Spanish accent, as his name would indicate, Salvador’s accent marked him as originating from the south of England.

Ned pressed his lips together to keep from showing any change of expression over Salvador’s use of his name before he introduced himself. “By order of King George the Third, I command you to surrender your ship and yourself under charge of piracy.”

With a slight smile, Salvador shook his head. “From what I have heard of you, I would have expected the niceties to be observed before business is discussed.”

Heat rose up the back of Ned’s neck at the rebuke from a pirate about etiquette. “My apologies, Captain Salvador. Thank you for your assistance with the ship in the bay.”

“An honor, Captain Cochrane. My condolences on the loss of your men.”

Ned’s stomach lurched, but he’d already emptied it twice; there should be nothing left to come up. He mimicked Salvador’s crossed-arm stance. “I pray they are taken, not killed.”

Salvador’s smile disappeared. “Given what I know of the men on
Sister Mary,
you might do better to pray they died in the attack rather than being captured.”

“So that was Shaw’s secondary ship.” Ned rubbed his cheek with the palm of his left hand. “Where is
Sister Elizabeth
?”

Salvador relaxed his stance somewhat, moving his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. “I was told in Black River that Shaw sailed to Kingston to…I believe the exact words were ‘retrieve a package’ there.”

Ned snorted in derision. “Only a black-hearted scoundrel would speak of a gentlewoman in that way.”

Salvador cocked his head to the side. “I happen to agree with you, Captain Cochrane. Women should be treated with respect and reserve, not as means for exacting revenge.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ned leaned his weight forward. “Yet I have a strong suspicion you do not always live by that belief, Captain Salvador.”

“What makes you say that?” Salvador’s expression did not change.

“Charles Lott.” Beside him, Ned could sense his lieutenants’ break in composure at the name of the supposedly dead midshipman. “Duncan, Hamilton, wait for me on deck.”

“Sir?” Duncan’s gaze swung from Ned to Salvador and back.

“Now, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Both young men reluctantly left the cabin.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Ned dropped his arms to his sides. “Where is she?”

Salvador raised one dark brow, its thickness interrupted by a scar, in response. “She?”

“Charlotte Ransome. Her presence aboard this ship is the only explanation for the use of the name Charles Lott. Do you know what the penalty for taking her will be?”

“Only if the captain who discovers her aboard this ship decides to let others know he found her here—and that I was not merely providing her safe passage home.” Salvador looked beyond Ned. “Suresh, bring in our guest.”

Ned glanced over his shoulder in time to see the East Indian man exit the cabin. He could not breathe for fear of what he would see when the steward returned.

Charlotte paced the length of the infirmary—not a long distance—and twisted her mobcap in her hands.

“Your Captain Cochrane is young to be a full captain. And somewhat short, as well.”