Surrender the Heart (29 page)

Marianne twisted the ring on her finger. “Even if it is unjust and ruthless?”

“You would do well to curb your tongue, miss. The captain is not above issuing the same punishments for a quarrelsome woman.”

She studied the stiff man for a moment, gauging him. She knew Noah had risked punishment for her. Could she do less for him? Something deep within Mr. Reed’s hazel eyes told her he agreed with her, despite the indifferent shield he attempted to hide behind.

“You know as well as I that the captain is not himself,” she whispered.

A flicker of understanding darted across his eyes before they glanced away. “I know no such thing, miss.” He tugged on his neckerchief. “I could report you for such subversive words.”

“Then do so, Lieutenant.” Marianne no longer cared. If she were to suffer for trying to correct a terrible injustice, then so be it.

Lieutenant Reed shifted his stance. “Order must be maintained on board, miss, or we would be unable to defend our country. There must
be a commander aboard this ship just as there must be a king over a country or chaos would ensue.”

“Order, yes, but cruelty, no.” Marianne gripped the back of one of the chairs. “And permit me to correct you, sir, but chaos ensues when leaders wield their power without impunity. As is happening on this ship.”

Lieutenant Reed studied her and for a moment she thought she’d won him to her side. But then he lengthened his stance and settled his bicorn atop his head. “I can do nothing for you.”

“Will you at least allow me to bring some food and water to Mr. Heaton?”

Hazel eyes sparked at her from beneath the pointed edge of his hat. “What you do in the middle of the night is of no concern to me.” One cultured brow rose slightly before he marched out of the room.

CHAPTER 15

N
oah stretched his stiff shoulders and legs, trying to loosen the tight knots that held his muscles captive. Taking his place in a line of sailors on the main deck, he waited to receive a cup of grog. He’d been scouring the deck for forty-three hours. His head pounded, and his eyelids felt like iron pilings. One glance at his hands told him they were white, wrinkly, and raw from the incessant scrubbing. A flurry of hot wind swirled around him, tugging at his hair and cooling the sweat on his brow and neck. He drew in a deep breath, relishing the smell of the sea. Just another twenty-nine hours. He could do it … He had to do it.

As he slogged forward in line, Noah felt Miss Denton’s presence on deck. He had no idea how, but when he glanced over his shoulder, there she was. She seemed to be looking for someone. Their eyes met and for a moment he thought he saw concern flicker within them. For him?

A midshipman, Blake, if Noah remembered, ordered the boatswain to blow his pipe. “For all you men who cannot read, Miss Denton has offered to read your letters from home without cost before you go
below for your evening mess.”

Read letters?
Noah nearly gasped. Why would she do that? She hated the British. A sailor rolled a barrel over for her, and she perched upon it and adjusted her skirts. The setting sun set her hair aflame like glistening cinnamon and cast an ethereal glow over her radiant skin. She smiled at the men forming a circle around her.

Grabbing his ladle of grog, Noah downed it and returned to the foredeck where he’d left off scouring the oak planks. At least they allowed him food and drink. He couldn’t say the same for Luke. He cringed at what the man must be enduring chained below in the dark, dank hold.

Picking up the holystone, Noah continued his work while keeping an eye on Miss Denton. Truth be told, he found it difficult to keep his eyes off her. One by one, the men approached her. With a smile, she took each man aside and read the contents of his missive in private. Visibly moved, some of the sailors clutched their letters to their chests as they ambled away while others broke into tears upon hearing what their loved ones had to say. What astounded Noah the most was the kind gestures and gentle way she addressed each man—each British man.

His thoughts drifted to Miss Priscilla. Memories of their brief time together focused more clearly in his mind. Her dismissive, commanding attitude toward the servants in her home, the way she jutted out her chin and looked the other way when they passed the impoverished in the city streets.

Truth be told, in light of Miss Denton, Priscilla’s beauty began to fade.

Noah’s gaze latched upon Lieutenant Garrick, who stood at the helm of the quarterdeck, his beady eyes riveted upon Miss Denton. What Noah saw in those eyes made his stomach curdle—a look he’d seen in many men’s eyes when they sought only one thing from a woman.

A surge of protectiveness rose within Noah that surprised him. But how could he protect her from a man who wielded nearly as much power as the captain himself?

Soon, the group of sailors surrounding Miss Denton dissipated, and a bell rang from the forecastle. Noah counted the chimes as they echoed over the deck. Eight bells. Which meant it was four in the afternoon, the end of one watch and the start of another.

But that made no difference to Noah. He must stay at his task.

Miss Denton rose and started across the deck. She gazed up at Noah ever so briefly—too briefly—when Mr. Weller approached her, holding out a missive he must have had on him when he’d been impressed. Noah frowned. Why hadn’t he trusted Noah to read it aboard the
Fortune?

One of the sailors bumped into Mr. Weller in passing. The same pock-faced man who’d caused trouble with them below. Weller stumbled from the impact, but kept his ground. “Monsters are hatched not birthed. You ain’t got no family.” He chortled and gazed around him, eliciting the chuckles of other sailors.

Weller glared at the man and curled his fists. The scars running down his face and neck reddened.
Do not strike him, my friend
. Noah silently pleaded.
Or you’ll end up like me, or worse
. Leaping to his feet, Noah scurried down the foredeck ladder, shoving men aside in order to save his friend from doing something that would warrant a lashing.

Miss Denton’s voice shot across the deck, halting him. “You will take that back this instant, Mr …. Mr.…”

The sailor froze, studied her for a moment, and dragged off his hat. “Wilcox, miss.”

“Do you judge a man by his scars, Mr. Wilcox? Or do you judge a man by his character?” She pointed at Weller. “These scars are evidence of Mr. Weller’s great bravery during battle. Have you any to compare?”

The man’s spiteful eyes narrowed as Noah made his way toward Miss Denton. Yet despite the fury storming on the man’s face and his defiant stance, Miss Denton held her ground. She placed her hands atop her hips. “Apologize at once.”

The man hesitated, spit to the side, then spun on his heels and marched away.

Releasing a sigh, Noah approached her. Admiration welled within
him, along with the realization that the woman he’d known as a child no longer existed. He wanted to tell her that she should curb that reckless tongue of hers on board this ship. He wanted to tell her that she was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

But the loud shout of a petty officer behind him halted him. “Get back to work, Brenin! Or the cap’n will hear of this!”

Miss Denton gathered her skirts and their eyes met. She smiled at him before she descended the companionway ladder, and Noah’s heart soared in the brightness of that smile.

Marianne crept forward, peering through the gloom of the sailor’s berth below deck. Her toe struck something sharp, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Daniel turned and laid a finger over his mouth then proceeded around a corner and into a large area filled with hammocks that swayed back and forth with each movement of the ship. At well past midnight, Marianne hoped most of the crew would be asleep. Her fears were allayed when nothing but snoring, occasional grunts, and the creaking of the ship combined into a discordant chant. Gesturing for her to wait, Daniel disappeared among the oscillating gray masses. The lantern the young boy held cast eerie shadows over the scene as he wove between the sleeping mounds, making them look like giant cocoons—cocoons out of which woman-eating insects could burst forth at any minute. A chill overcame Marianne at the thought, and she hugged herself. Her nose curled at the stench of sweat and filth that hung in the room like a cloud.

Moments later, Daniel returned and beckoned her onward. On the other side of the room, seated on the hard floor, his legs in irons hooked to the deck, sat Mr. Heaton, his head reclining on his knees. Beyond him, a marine, musket gripped in his hand, slouched against the bulkhead fast asleep.

Kneeling beside Luke, Marianne touched his arm, and he jerked his head up, tugging on his chains. The clanking dissipated amidst the snores and creaks.

He gaped at her, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked. “Miss Denton, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

“Shhh.” She glanced at the marine. “I brought you some grog and a biscuit.”

He looked over his shoulder, alarm tightening his features. Stubble peppered his jaw, and his black hair hung limp over his shoulders. Even in the dim lantern light, Marianne could make out a purple bruise circling his swollen eye.

“Do you know what they’ll do to you if you’re caught?” he whispered, then glanced at Daniel keeping watch not three feet away. “And you, too.”

“It will be all right.” The assurance in the boy’s voice gave Marianne an odd sense of comfort.

“Be gone with you, Miss Denton.” Luke dropped his head back onto his knees.

Ignoring him, she nudged his chin up and lifted the cup to his lips. “Drink this and be quiet, Mr. Heaton.”

She tipped the mug, and he gulped the liquid, releasing a sigh when he had drained the last drop.

“I never thought stale water and rum would taste so good.”

“Here.” She handed him two biscuits. “Don’t leave any crumbs.” She smiled.

A snort sounded from one from the hammocks. Another man cried out in his sleep. The guard shifted his weight and scratched his nose.

Marianne froze, her eyes shifting from Mr. Heaton to Daniel.

Taking the biscuit, he gestured for her to leave. She started to get up.

He grabbed her arm. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

Her heart pounding, Marianne dashed between the hammocks and followed Daniel up one deck. She held the bundle containing another two biscuits close to her chest.