Stormy Persuasion (12 page)

Chapter Nineteen

N
athan didn’t expect to find anything in the back of the hold. He just didn’t want
to lose his advantage in this bout of verbal sparring with Judith, which would have
happened if she started interrogating him again so soon. He preferred to keep her
distracted from the facts as long as possible, or at least until he could better ascertain
her reaction to them.

He hadn’t decided if he should appeal to her sympathy—if she had any—with some truths
he could share? Or admit every­thing, including that he owned the house in Hampshire
and had a pardon waiting for him? Unfortunately, he didn’t think she was likely to
believe either. But if he told her too much and did convince her that he was innocent,
their bargain would come to an end and he’d lose her company. And he liked her company.
Liked teasing her, too. Liked the way her mouth pursed in annoyance. Liked the way
her eyes could spark with anger or humor. Definitely liked the way she’d felt in his
arms. Bleeding hell, there was nothing about her that he didn’t like—other than her
stubborn insistence that he was a smuggler.
Why
was she so certain? What was he missing?

He was jumped the moment he passed the crate where the man had been crouched in hiding,
and it was his own damn fault for having his mind filled with Judith instead of the
matter at hand. And it was no scrawny runt either that tackled him to the floor. He
was nearly as big as Nathan. In the brief glimpse he’d caught of him, he’d seen a
young man with queued-back blond hair and dark eyes, who was barefoot but not poorly
clad in a shirt made of fine linen and a fancy gold-link chain at his neck. Nathan
didn’t recognize him as a member of the crew, and he doubted one of the servants Judith
had mentioned would attack him.

The noise of their hard landing startled the chickens into squawking and set one of
the pigs squealing. Nathan was only startled for a moment before instinct kicked in.
He rolled, taking the man with him, and got in one solid punch before he was thrust
back and the man scrambled to his feet. But he didn’t run. He pulled a dagger from
the back of his britches and took a swipe at Nathan just as Nathan got to his feet.
He felt the sting of the blade on his chest, but didn’t look down to check the damage.
His anger kicked in full force because of it.

He’d never been in a knife fight before and had no weapon on him to counter it. He
could have improvised with a hammer or a file, but his toolbox was too far away and
he would likely get that dagger in his back if he ran for it. He positioned his arms
instead to block the next swipe, but doubting that would be effective, he just tried
to stay out of reach instead. But that wasn’t going to be possible for much longer.

Weighing his options, he saw they were sorely lacking. Knock the dagger out of the
man’s hand so he could have a fair fight with him, which he knew he could win, or
send Judith for help if she hadn’t already run out of there. The second option didn’t
appeal to him in the least, and he would be dead before assistance arrived. Then a
third option slid across the floor and stopped near his feet. His hammer.

The man spotted it, too, and quickly stepped forward with his dagger extended to move
Nathan back from it. There was no time to think, but there was no way he was giving
up the opportunity Judith had just given him. He turned his back on the man, dropped
to the floor, and, bracing his hands on the floor, kicked backward. He didn’t connect
with his attacker, but it startled the man sufficiently to give Nathan the time he
needed to grasp the hammer and rise to his feet, swinging it. He connected with the
man’s shoulder and the man stepped back. Nathan had the upper hand now and they both
knew it.

He took the offensive with some steady swings. Sparks flew when the hammerhead struck
the blade, but the blond man held fast to his dagger, although Nathan had him moving
backward. He’d soon be out of room to maneuver with the animal pen behind him, but
he might not know that yet.

With the advantage his now and not wanting to actually kill the man, Nathan said,
“Give it up, man. Better than getting your head bashed in.”

“Bugger off!” the man snarled, but desperation was in his expression, which warned
Nathan the man was about to try something, and he did, flipping the dagger in his
hand so he was holding it by the tip and raising his arm to throw it. Nathan only
had a second to react, and the quickest way to get out of the path of that dagger
or to stop it was to dive at the man.

He did, plowing them both into the fence of the animal pen, which broke with their
combined weight. They hit the ground, animals scattering and raising a cacophony of
panicked noises. But Nathan pressed his broad chest against his attacker’s dagger
arm so the man couldn’t move his weapon, if indeed he still held it. Letting go of
the hammer, Nathan smashed his fist into the man’s face, once, twice, three times.
Twice had been enough to knock him out.

Nathan took a deep breath and sat up. The dagger was still within his assailant’s
reach so Nathan shoved it out of the pen before he glanced down at his chest to see
if he was wounded. The blade had sliced open his shirt and his skin stung. He’d been
scratched, but not seriously enough to draw more than a few drops of blood.

“Are you all right?”

She was still there? He glanced up and saw how upset she looked and assured her, “I’m
fine.”

“But he attacked you. Why?!”

“Damned if I know.” He got to his feet and dragged the man out of the pen before he
added, “He’s not a member of the crew, obviously.”

She was frowning down at the man. “He’s not a member of my uncle’s kitchen staff either.
I know them all.”

“Must be a stowaway then.”

“But stowaways don’t try to kill people once they’ve been discovered.”

She had a point. It was a minor crime that usually only got the culprit some time
in the brig or forced labor until the ship reached land. Then most captains would
simply let the stowaway go. The man’s aggression didn’t make much sense. He couldn’t
have been in the hold since they’d left London. Nathan was sure of that. The animals
would have given him away sooner, and sailors who came down here several times a day
for provisions would have noticed him. The man had to have been hiding somewhere else
and snuck down here when Nathan went to fetch his dinner.

He grabbed a crate and used it to block the broken part of the fence so all the animals
didn’t get out before he could repair it.

Judith, watching him, suddenly gasped. “You’re hurt!”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Let me see.”

She rushed over to him. He rolled his eyes at her, but she was too intent on opening
the tear in his shirt wider so she could check his wound. But it gave him time to
realize she was a little more concerned than she ought to be about someone she wanted
to see in prison. Was she so compassionate that she’d help anyone in need?

She finally brought her eyes back to his. “It’s just a scratch.”

He smiled. “I know. You should have run the other way when the fight started, but
I’m glad you didn’t. The hammer tipped the scales in my favor. Clever of you to think
of it.”

She blushed. “I got angry that he wasn’t fighting fairly. I
did
think about hitting him with a plank of lumber first, but I had no confidence that
my swing would be effective.”

He laughed at the image that brought up. He seemed to be doing a lot of that around
her—yet another reason why he liked her company. “Never thought I would end up grateful
for that temper of yours or have to thank you for it, but you definitely have my thanks,
darlin’.”

“You’re welcome.”

He bent down and hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder.

“Where are you taking him?”

“Your uncle needs to be informed about this, so take your coat and go before the commotion
starts. He could order the entire ship searched tonight for more stowaways, and I
doubt you want to be found down here.”

“Quite right. I’m leaving now. No need to wait on me.”

He still paused at the stairway to make sure Judith was safely out of there before
he went up. The possibility that there was more than one stowaway would explain why
the unconscious man had jumped Nathan instead of just giving himself up. Had he been
distracting Nathan from finding his partner? When Nathan reached the main deck, he
dropped his heavy load.

The man didn’t stir even a little, but Nathan couldn’t leave him there alone, so he
simply yelled for the first mate. Only a few sailors were on deck at that time of
night, but they came forward to investigate, one of them bringing a lantern.

“Cor, you decked one of the cap’n’s London servants?” a sailor guessed. “Cap’ won’t
be pleased.”

“Fetch him and we’ll find out,” Nathan replied.

Artie arrived and peered down at the man. “He don’t belong here. Where’d you find
him, Mr. Tremayne?”

Nathan explained to Artie what had happened, then had to repeat it all when the captain
joined them. If Malory was annoyed that someone would dare board his ship without
permission, he hid it well. In fact, the man’s face was without expression of any
sort.

“He’s not one of the crew, Cap’n, and from what Mr. Tremayne is telling us, he doesn’t
appear to be a typical stowaway, either,” Artie pointed out.

“No, he doesn’t.” James stared down at the man and nudged him with the toe of his
boot to see if he was close to coming round yet, but the man didn’t move. “Did you
have to hit him quite so hard, Mr. Tremayne?”

“I dropped my hammer first” was all Nathan said in his defense.

The slight quirk to the captain’s lips was too brief to tell if it was amusement.
“Our conclusion that he’s not on board for the ride begs the question, what is he
doing on my ship?” James said. “And why hasn’t someone fetched water yet so we can
bring him to and ascertain that?”

But the moment a sailor ran off for a bucket, Andrássy appeared with sword in hand,
yelling, “How dare he endanger my family? I’ll kill him!”

The count looked enraged enough to do just that as he ran down from the quarterdeck.
Nathan leapt toward him to stop him.

Looking annoyed, James did, too, shoving Andrássy back. “What the devil d’you think
you’re doing?” James demanded ominously. “I need answers, not blood.”

“But—are the women not in danger?” Andrássy asked, lowering his sword.

“Bloody hell,” James snarled. “Just stay out of—”

“Cap’n!”

Nathan turned back and saw that the stowaway must have leapt to his feet, knocked
down the only sailor still next to him, the one who’d just yelled, while they’d been
distracted, and dived over the side of the ship. Nathan only saw the man’s legs before
he disappeared.

Incredulous, Nathan ran to the rail. “What the devil? Does he think he can swim back
to England?”

The others had come to the rail, too. One sailor shouted, “Should we fish him out?”

“How?” the one with the lantern said in frustration as he held it over the rail. “Do
you even see him down there? I don’t.”

Nathan couldn’t spot the man either. Unlike last night when the sky had been clear,
tonight a long bank of clouds covered the moon. More men arrived with more lanterns,
but the light still didn’t extend far enough for them to spot the stowaway. Nathan
could hear the sounds of splashing, which indicated the stowaway was swimming away
from the ship. And then he heard something else. . . .

“Oars,” he said to James. “There’s at least one rowboat nearby, so there must be a
ship, too.”

“Artie!” James started barking orders. “Get every man on deck armed in case this is
a sneak attack. You two”—he pointed at the sailors—“get one of our smaller boats in
the water and go after them. If it’s not an attack, I want that bloody stowaway back.
Henry, get the man in the crew with the best night vision and send him up in the rigging.
I want to know what’s happening down there.”

Nathan ran to the other side of the ship, but he
still
couldn’t see anything in the water. Moving around the ship, he did ascertain that
the sound of the oars could only be heard on the side of the ship where the man had
jumped. The sound was growing fainter, and finally it could only be heard from the
stern.

He was on his way to inform James of that when Walter, the sailor with the best night
vision, who hadn’t needed to climb far to use it, called out, “Behind us, Captain!”

James moved to the stern immediately with the crew following him. Artie handed him
his spyglass, but James didn’t bother to use it. He glanced up at the thick clouds
overhead instead and swore foully.

But Walter yelled down again: “Just one rowboat, moving swiftly back to the big ship.
Our boat isn’t close yet, Captain. Doesn’t look like we can overtake it.”

Then the clouds thinned, just enough for the moon to cast a dim light on the water.
James quickly brought up the spyglass and said a moment later, “She’s three masted
and fully rigged—and pulling about to show off her cannon.”