Sea of Desire (13 page)

It had been hours since the captain left his
cabin. Merideth had sopped up the soapy water, and waited. If there
was to be a battle, it was certainly taking its time in coming.
Earlier, from the transom windows, she’d noticed two ships. But now
she couldn’t even see them.

She was tired and hungry and bored. And more
than a little curious to find out what was going on. No one had
brought an evening meal, and Tim hadn’t come back to see her. After
testing the door and finding it unlocked, she decided to go above
deck.

Merideth stepped through the hatch just as
the first broadside hit the
Carolina
. The evening twilight
was brightened by an explosion of orange-gold light as the
thunderous roar split the silence. Men screamed, and as Merideth
watched, stunned, a sailor threw down his comrade and rolled him on
the sand-strewn deck, extinguishing the flames that licked up his
back.

Horrified, her hand clasped to her mouth,
Merideth retreated till her spine straightened against the
mainmast. Men sweated and swore, sponging the great guns and
lighting the fuses. There wasn’t a moment of quiet... a moment of
peace. Smoke filled the air, making her eyes smart, and Merideth
scrubbed at the tears that flowed down her cheek. This wasn’t what
she’d expected.

This was horrible, and she couldn’t imagine
how these men endured it.

More screams and curses drowned out
Merideth’s sobs as another explosion filled the air with splintered
wood. Fires erupted on the deck, and tars scrambled to dump sand
and water on the burning wood.

This was war and death. And Merideth could do
naught but cringe against the mast.

She heard a voice, loud and commanding above
the din, a voice somehow reassuring in the midst of chaos. “Prepare
to repel boarders! Prepare to repel boarders!”

Merideth twisted her head to follow the sound
of his voice. He stood on the quarterdeck, surrounded by smoke, his
once white shirt grimy and torn, his dark hair loose from its
queue. Surprisingly, she knew a moment of relief when she realized
he wasn’t bleeding like so many of the others around her. But any
such emotion was short-lived as he grabbed up a cutlass and ran
toward the ladder leading from the quarterdeck.

Another explosion was followed by a sound
like a score of trees cracking in the wind. Merideth looked back
toward Jared Blackstone. He was glancing up, into the sails, and
then his eyes dropped and locked with hers. She saw shock, then
anger and fear, and before she knew what he was about to do, the
captain leaped from the quarterdeck.

He landed on the run, grabbing her and
throwing them both toward the far rail. They landed with a thud
against a giant coil of rope just as a section of shrouds and
sheared-off mast crashed onto the deck.

Pain radiated from her shoulder and Merideth
could barely catch her breath. She needed a moment to think about
what had just happened, but the captain gave her none. With no
compassion for her bruised arm, he clutched her to him.

“You could have been killed,” he yelled above
the tumult, his face close to hers. She concentrated on the
flashing prisms of green in his eyes as the meaning of his words
sank into her befuddled brain. “Do you never listen to orders?”
With that he pulled her none too gently toward the hatch, climbing
over large fragments of oaken mast that cluttered the deck where
Merideth had stood just moments before.

“Get below and stay there,” were the
captain’s final words as he left her by the hatch and rushed toward
the rail. Merideth swallowed and obeyed, but not before her gaze
registered the carnage on the deck.

Those sailors not manning guns were running
about barefooted, grabbing pikes and firing muskets. The British
ship was close, so close Merideth could plainly see her crew as
they swung giant grappling hooks toward the
Carolina
’s
deck.

These were Englishmen, countrymen, and they
were obviously winning the day. But Merideth couldn’t help
wondering what would happen to the Americans who fought them so
ardently.

“Yer Ladyship. Why ain’t ye below?”

Merideth turned as Tim came barreling toward
her. He grabbed her arm, much as the captain had earlier, and
pushed her down through the hatch.

“Cap’n said I was to watch out for ye. But he
said ye were down in his cabin.” The boy spoke as he scrambled down
the ladder, forcing Merideth to bunch up her skirts and hurry to
keep ahead of him.

“Ain’t no place for ye up there,” he said,
pulling her along the companionway.

“It’s no place for anyone.” Merideth leaned
against the bulkhead after she was shoved into the captain’s cabin.
Here the sounds of fighting were only a little less vivid than on
deck. “I wanted to see what was happening,” Merideth explained as
she tried to catch her breath.

“We’ve got ourselves in a tight one,” Tim
said. He yanked something from his breeches. It was dark in the
cabin, with no candle, but Merideth could make out a pistol.

“Wh... what are you going to do with that?”
Hard-faced and smeared with sweat and grime, he didn’t seem the
same boy who had tossed his captain’s clothes about the cabin.

“Protectin’ ye, like the cap’n said,” he
answered simply.

“I see.” Merideth didn’t think it wise to
point out that she probably needed more protection from the captain
than from the English attackers. But she couldn’t help the feeling
of sympathy that swept over her when she thought of the American
crew.

Except for Captain Blackstone. He deserved
whatever befell him for killing her father. Who cared that he swore
he hadn’t done it? Who cared that he’d saved her from being buried
beneath the falling mast? None of that mattered... or so Merideth
tried to tell herself.

She became so used to the musketry and clamor
of battle that the return to quiet was jolting. Merideth sprang up
from the bunk where she was sitting. “What is it? What’s
happened?”

“I ain’t rightly sure.” Tim sat in the
captain’s chair, the pistol pointed toward the door to the
passageway.

Night smothered the cabin under a blanket of
uneasy darkness.

“Let me light the flint so we can—”

“Nay! We’ll keep it dark.”

“But we can’t see,” she said, hoping Tim
didn’t hear the panic in her voice.

“Nor can we be seen.” Merideth heard the
creak of the chair as Tim rose. He moved toward the door, cracking
it open and allowing a sliver of light from the companionway to
slice into the darkness.

“Do you think the British have won?” The
light was sufficient to read the look of disgust Tim sent her
way.

“Hush, someone’s comin’ ”

Merideth peeked over Tim’s shoulder in time
to see Captain Blackstone striding toward them. He looked tired and
dirty... but not defeated.

Tim stuffed the pistol back into his breeches
and swung the door wider in welcome. All his seriousness seemed to
evaporate, leaving in its place the curious lad. “What ‘appened,
Cap’n? Did you blast them back to Lan’s End?”

“Not quite.” Jared let out his breath,
quickly assuring himself that Lady Merideth and Tim were all right.
“We did keep them from boarding us. But I’ve got to tell you, it
doesn’t look good.” Jared addressed his comments to Tim, though he
watched his English captive from the corner of his eye.

“But if ye repelled them, then—”

“The onset of night had as much to do with
that as our crew. The British are a cocky lot.” Now his gaze did
shift to Merideth. She met his stare square on. “They’re thinking
we’re doomed and have pulled back to wait for first light to finish
us off,” Jared continued.

“Finish us off?” Tim seemed unable to
comprehend the meaning.

“The mainmast is down, and we’ve a leak on
the lee side.”

“So we’re just...” Tears clogged Tim’s
throat. “Givin’ up?”

“Nay.” Jared’s voice was firm, but Merideth
could see in his eyes that he wasn’t certain. “We’re hoping we can
patch up the hull. But we won’t surrender without a fight. ‘Twas
why I came below.” That, and to check on their safety. “There’s
work to be done.”

“Ye can count on me.”

“I knew I could.” Jared clasped the boy’s
shoulder. “Get above, and be quick about it.”

Tim scampered out of the cabin, leaving the
captain framed in the wedge of light. He seemed so large and
formidable that Merideth couldn’t help a small step back. “I hope
you aren’t giving him anything dangerous to do.”

“Everything on a privateer is dangerous. But
Tim can handle more than you think. He’s a good sailor.”

“He’s a boy,” Merideth countered.

“True enough. But he’s a sensible lad who
listens to orders and knows what he’s about.”

His earlier chastisement about her failing to
obey and nearly getting herself killed in the process echoed back
to her ears. Merideth straightened her shoulders. “I suppose I owe
you my gratitude for—”

“I’m not interested in your thanks.” Jared
stepped further into the cabin when he noticed her chin jerk up.
“I’ve come to give you a choice.”

“I’m listening.”

“Stay here, locked in the cabin alone... with
no light.” He saw the color leave her face, and wished he didn’t
have to insist on the darkness. Her eyes held a shadow of the same
expression as when he planned to put her in the cave. “Or assist in
the surgery.”

“I don’t know anything about taking care of
wounds.”

Jared shrugged and moved into the
companionway. Her hand on his arm, where his sleeve was torn,
stayed him from shutting the door.

“I would help if I could.” A subtle lift of
his brow had her adding the word “really.” She couldn’t stop
thinking of those poor men she’d seen during the battle. Burned.
Bleeding.

“Wait!” Merideth called out before he could
latch the door. “I’ll do it. I’ll help in the surgery.”

Jared swung back into the room. “If I let you
out of here, I must have your word that you won’t cause
trouble.”

“You’d take my word?” Now it was Merideth’s
turn to arch her brow.

“Aye. At the moment I have little choice. My
men are suffering, and there’s much to do this night.”

He did care about the wounded she’d seen on
deck. Merideth saw the concern in his eyes. And she couldn’t fault
him for it. No matter what else there might be between them. “You
have my word, then.” Merideth hesitated. “For this night.”

He seemed to think on that a moment, then
nodded. Taking her hand, he shut the cabin door behind them and led
the way toward the makeshift surgery.

As they approached the afterhold the pitiful
cries of the wounded grew louder, and Merideth came close to
changing her mind. Surely she could stand a night in the closed-up
cabin, especially knowing the morn would bring release from her
captivity. She owed these Americans, especially their captain,
nothing of herself.

But before she could make known her change of
heart, the captain’s hand tightened around hers. Not in punishment,
but in empathy for his suffering crew. Merideth couldn’t help
squeezing his fingers in response. He paused before the ladder that
led down to the surgery, and looked at her. The only light came
from a sputtering candle stuck into the bulkhead.

Merideth held her breath, waiting for him to
say something... to do something. But he only stared, his
expression unreadable, before leading the way down the ladder. He
did little more than point out the surgeon before climbing back up
to the companionway, leaving Merideth alone with the
blood-splattered doctor and the wounded men.

This area contained no windows and was ablaze
with light from many candles. Large planks had been set on barrels
to make a platform. On that flooring were tables and pallets where
wounded men lay. Merideth watched as the surgeon, a large man with
grizzled hair that stuck out in every direction, tightened a
tourniquet around a sailor’s arm.

Below the metal sleeve with its
grisly-looking screw, nothing remained but a bloody stub. Merideth
stared at it and her knees grew weak. Smells of blood and camphor
filled the air, turning her stomach into a quivering knot. She must
have made a sound, for the doctor shifted his attention from his
patient to where she stood, back against the ladder rungs.

“Don’t just stand there looking like death
warmed over, girl. There’s work to be done. Fetch me that bottle.”
He jutted his chin toward a corked container, and Merideth jumped
to comply. She brought it toward him, careful to keep her eyes away
from the man spread out on the table.

“Now,” he ordered, “give me a swallow.” While
the doctor’s hands stayed on his patient, Merideth tipped the
bottle to his lips. He drank of the rum greedily, but shook his
head when she offered him another drink. “They be needing it more
than me,” he said, motioning toward the men lying on pallets.

After that, Merideth had no choice but to
move among the wounded, offering a drink here, a comforting word
there. She packed cuts with lint and smeared grease over burns. And
though she thought she’d be sick, she held down a man while the
doctor pulled large splinters of wood from his leg.

Merideth had no idea how long she’d been in
the makeshift surgery when she straightened, rubbing the small of
her back as she did. Work was not new to her. She did her share and
more at Banistar Hall. Work that wouldn’t get done if she sat in
the drawing room stitching all day. But she’d never been as tired
as she was now.

“Give yourself a break,” the doctor whose
name she’d learned was Abner Pochet said. She’d also learned that
his qualifications for the job of ship’s doctor included a deft
hand with the saw, a strong stomach, and a smattering of apothecary
knowledge. During quieter times aboard ship, he was a
carpenter.

“You’ve been at it longer than I,” Merideth
countered, though she dearly wished to return to the captain’s
cabin, bury her head neath the down pillow, and forget all that had
happened in the past fortnight. But she was realistic enough to
know that could never be.