Brazen Bride (25 page)

She rapped out orders, and the crew responded as she steered the
Esperance
through another turn, this one much wider than the last, coming full circle. When they were once more on line for Plymouth Sound, all three ships were sailing in more or less the same direction. The second frigate was well off to port and a good way ahead, too distant to pose any immediate threat, but the command ship, also now off the port side but much nearer, was scrambling, angling as if to intercept the
Esperance
rather than slink away.

“They can’t be serious.” Linnet shook her head. “We’re coming up astern and they’ve just seen what our guns can do.”

“The other frigate’s turning.” Griffiths had the glass to his eye.

Lifting her gaze, Linnet watched, then frowned. “That’s too big a turn to come directly at us—looks like he plans to circle and come up astern again.”

Slowly, Griffiths nodded. “Looks that way. They don’t want to come broadside and risk our guns.”

“The command ship’s running.” Linnet watched as the command frigate suddenly angled away and put on more sail, drawing ahead and apart. She watched for a moment, then snorted. “What does he think I am? Blind?”

The
Esperance
was still traveling faster than either of the frigates. Linnet called for sails to be trimmed, slowing the
Esperance
, and, as if helpfully falling in with the command ship captain’s plan, turned slightly off course as if to follow.

When Griffiths glanced inquiringly at her, she smiled tightly. “He wants to engage, and assumes, after our last manuever, that I want to, too, but he wants to lead me a dance until the other frigate can come around and assist. I can’t just leave him and run for Plymouth; we’re still too far out—they’d catch us again, try coming up astern again, but I won’t be able to play the same trick twice. I suspect their new plan is for me to get distracted chasing the command ship, then suddenly discover the other frigate coming up hard astern and to starboard. When I react and try to run, the command ship will spill wind enough to swing close alongside the port bow. While we’re distracted at the stern, they’ll send men over the bow.”

Logan asked Griffiths for the glass, trained it on the command ship. What he saw made his blood run cold. Lowering the glass, he caught Linnet’s eye. “I’d say your reading is correct. There are cult assassins on board the command ship. They’ll be the ones wanting to come over your bow.”

Linnet nodded. He stood beside her as she continued to follow the command ship as it tacked this way and that, much like a fox before a hound.

“He keeps trying to slow us,” Linnet said, “but has to, at least at the moment, stay far enough ahead so I don’t simply overrun him.”

Logan looked up, trying to judge how much sail she’d had taken in. “Could you overrun him?”

“At his current speed, easily, but I don’t think he realizes that. The
Esperance
is significantly faster than other ships of her class. In these conditions, the speed we’re doing now is more typical.”

“Which suggests the captain doesn’t know the
Esperance
, which means he’s from further afield—not these waters.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

Logan watched as she called another set of sail changes; he couldn’t follow the purpose behind them all, but assumed she was setting the stage for the upcoming engagement.

Sure enough, once the
Esperance
was riding steady again, going nowhere near as fast as it could, she left the wheel to Griffiths, took the spyglass from Logan, and trained it on the other frigate, now attempting to sneak up on their rear.

Those on the frigate saw her looking. The captain immediately put on all sail and came on as fast as the wind allowed.

Linnet smiled. Lowering the glass, she gauged the distance between the ships, then strode to the forward railing and leaned over to yell, “Tommy, Burton, Calloway! Get your bows, arrows, and a brazier, and get up here—but keep everything hidden from the ship in front, and below the rail up here.”

“Aye, Capt’n!”

Two minutes later, three young sailors came clambering up the ladder. Logan helped the first lift a brazier of glowing coals up, carefully setting it near the stern rail. The three slid long bows across the deck, then climbed up, each carrying arrows with ragged heads dipped in pitch in one hand.

Leaving the arrows with their bows, the lads looked at Linnet. She joined them, her gaze on the frigate coming up hard on their stern. “They have arbalests standing ready to light our sails, but your bows have greater range. How soon before you can take out most of their sails? Doesn’t have to be all, but we need the main sails alight.”

With the
Esperance
slowed, the frigate was closing the distance quickly.

The lads narrowed their eyes, pursed their lips.

“Just a little more . . . ,” one of them said.

“As soon as you’re ready, then—fire at will.” Linnet turned and walked back to the helm.

Resuming his position more or less at her back, Logan watched as, with no further instruction, the youngsters waited, muttering between themselves about distance and wind, then as one they bent and, screened by the high side of the stern deck, fanned the brazier. With one eye on the frigate, each found his bow, notched an arrow and lit it, then, in perfect concert, the trio stood, smoothly drawing back the long bows, and let fly.

They didn’t even wait to see fire blossom on the sails, but bent again. In less than a minute they sent another three arrows flying. They were fast and accurate. Using just nine arrows in all, they set nearly all of the rear frigate’s sails ablaze, sending the frigate crew frantically scrambling.

All but instantly, the frigate fell away.

Linnet returned to clap the three lads on their shoulders. “Perfect!” Behind them, the frigate was all but becalmed. “Excellent work—now get below. We’ve one more frigate to fry.”

Logan looked back at the frigate rapidly falling behind. They hadn’t enough sail to even limp along, yet how soon before the cultists on board reached shore? And which shore?

And while the first frigate they’d engaged had almost certainly sunk, it had gone down slowly; plenty of time for all those aboard to abandon ship.

“Full sail again!”

Linnet’s call had him putting such concerns aside. Beneath his feet, the
Esperance
leapt like a hound unleashed. What would she do with the third frigate, the one carrying assassins? Returning to his position beside her as she stood alongside Griffiths, presently managing the helm, he followed both their gazes to the last frigate—and saw it swing very definitely away.

Linnet watched, eyes narrow, lips thin, then humphed. “Ten points starboard.” Griffiths obeyed, and the
Esperance
’s bow swung elegantly north. Linnet called several sail changes, then regauged the distance to the frigate, still some way ahead to port. “That will take us past at a safe distance. If they’ve finally come to their senses and want to scrurry out of our way, we’ll let them go.”

The sails caught more wind on the new heading; the
Esperance
picked up speed, swiftly moving away from the last frigate.

Logan watched, inwardly cursing, yet . . . “A magnanimous gesture.”

Linnet shrugged. “That misbegotten captain must by now realize that taking the
Esperance
is beyond him.”

She’d turned to look at Logan as she spoke.

Griffiths’s shout had her turning back. “Blimey! Will you look at that.”

The three of them stared. Most of the crew stopped what they were doing and stared, too.

Rather than slink away, as it had definitely and sensibly started to do, the frigate abruptly changed course again, as if to engage—but then the masts dipped wildly and the ship nearly keeled.

“What the devil’s going on there?” Linnet grabbed the spyglass she’d set down and refocused on the frigate’s deck.

A second passed, then, her tone disbelieving, she reported, “There’s fighting on board. Some men—men with dark skins and black scarves about their heads—are fighting the captain and his mate, and the rest of the crew, too. They’ve seized the wheel and are trying to steer the ship our way . . . but the idiots are simply forcing the wheel over without changing sails. In this wind, they’ll capsize the ship.”

Grimly Logan stared at the frigate. To his admittedly inexperienced eye, the space between it and the
Esperance
was already great enough to ensure the frigate wouldn’t be able to come up with them, certainly not if manned by cultists and not sailors. “All we can do is hope the captain and his crew win the battle.”

And toss the cultists, especially the assassins, into the briny deep
.

Linnet lowered the glass. “Indeed.” She looked at Griffiths. “Keep all sail on. Let’s leave them to it and race for Plymouth.”

Setting the glass back in its holder beside the wheel, she headed down the ladder to talk to her men.

Logan watched her go, then picked up the spyglass, walked to the stern rail, and trained it on the frigate, now dwindling to their rear.

He’d been prepared for a battle, but his saber hadn’t even cleared its sheath. He felt frustrated and stymied, especially over having to leave cultists, and even more assassins, alive to tell their tales. To report to their superiors, as they inevitably would.

Yet there’d been no help for it, no legitimate way around it. The battle had been Linnet’s to command; she’d made her calls and got them clean away, crippling the opposition while her own men remained unscathed.

The hallmark of an excellent commander.

Asking her to turn back and attack the other ship, to put the
Esperance
and her crew at risk again to satisfy his wish to ensure no cultist who knew he’d been on the
Esperance
remained free to report . . . that wasn’t in the cards.

She’d done the right thing every step of the way.

Lowering the glass, he stared at the speck the last frigate had become. Rubbed a hand over his nape.

Like any good commander, Linnet had rescripted her plans on the run, rejigging them to best save her ship and her crew.

Now he would have to do the same. He’d have to meet the challenge of rescripting his plans to see them all safely home.

L
ater that afternoon, still out in the Channel but with Plymouth not that far ahead, Logan arranged to meet with Edgar, John, Griffiths, and Claxton in the cabin he’d been given next to Linnet’s. She was still on deck, more or less above their heads at the wheel.

When Griffiths, the last to join them, came in and shut the door, Logan waved him to a perch on the narrow bunk, and from his position leaning against the wall beside the small porthole, began, “Edgar and John already know about the Black Cobra cult and my mission, of my role, and those of my three colleagues and numerous others, in attempting to bring the fiend to justice. But what none of you can have much idea of is the reason our mission’s so vital.”

In stark detail, he described some of the cult’s atrocities, enough to have the four sailors blanch. “That’s what these people are capable of.”

He tipped his head toward the sea beyond the porthole. “You all saw the cultists aboard the last frigate—most were cult assassins, the deadliest group, the most fanatical. You saw how desperate they were to reach this ship—they’ll do anything to reach me, and, now, Captain Trevission. She, a woman, defeated them. Her gender will make the defeat sting unbearably. I doubt they’ll come after the
Esperance
herself—they don’t think of ships in that way—but they will come after her captain—to punish her. When I escape them, as I must once I reach Plymouth, those remaining on the coast will be desperate to—as they’ll think of it—redeem themselves in the eyes of their leader, the Black Cobra, by killing Captain Trevission in the most gruesome and painful way they can devise.”

He paused, scanning their faces; their expressions were as grim as he could wish. “To a lesser extent you and the crew will be in danger, too, but it’s Captain Trevission they’ll focus their vengeful hatred on.”

Shifting, he straightened. “When we left St. Peter Port, my plan was for the
Esperance
to carry me to Plymouth, where I’d leave the ship, meet with the guards waiting for me in town, and carry on with my mission. I’ve already told Captain Trevission that on completion of my mission, I plan to return to Guernsey and Mon Coeur. If I survive, I intend to ask her to be my wife and live on Guernsey with her, but I won’t, can’t, make any offer until I know I’ve survived hale and whole.”

The men blinked at his open declaration, but Edgar’s and John’s expressions lightened, and they nodded with both approval and relief.

“However,” Logan continued, “if after today’s action I continue as I’d planned and leave Captain Trevission on the
Esperance
in Plymouth, the cult will target her.”

Griffiths and Claxton frowned. “We can rally the crew—we’ll keep her safe.”

Logan inclined his head. “I’ve no doubt that, while she’s on board, you’ll be able to do that. But I seriously doubt that, after today, the cult will come after her while she’s on the
Esperance
. They’ll wait until she leaves and heads home—to Mon Coeur.” He paused, scanned their faces as the potential for horror sank in. “And we all know what’s at Mon Coeur. The cultists aren’t much good on the waves, but tracking on land—at that they excel. They’ll follow Captain Trevission to Mon Coeur, scout the place, gather their forces—and they do have considerable numbers—and pick their time. I know there are men at Mon Coeur capable of fighting, but even if you can persuade Linnet to allow some extras to go home with her, it won’t be enough. Not enough of you will realize the savagery and fanaticism you’ll face, not until it’s too late.”