The cacophony of the belching cannons had only recently come to an end. Amelia and Anna could smell the acrid stench of smoke eddying toward them from up above and beyond the shattered partition that separated the officer’s section from that of the main body of the ship.

The sound of muskets being fired raged on. There were shouts, screams and the clash of metal objects against one another. Anna reached out to hold Amelia’s hand. As if reading one another’s minds, they both took a few steps back into the far reaches of the small cabin until their backs touched the wooden planking.

“What are we going to do?” asked Anna, her teeth chattering with fear.

Amelia reluctantly turned her head away from the open doorway, leading to the gangway and looked her friend in the eye. “Captain Wimple will protect us,” she said without conviction.

“Against a ghost…how?”

“I don’t know; he just will.” Amelia thought a moment as the noises up above them became more powerful. The sound of hundreds of feet on the deck resounded like the charge of a herd of bulls. There were more cries of anguish interspersed with the feral shouts of those men still in combat.

“You see, it sounds like we are winning,” said Amelia, feeling a little more confident.

“How can ye tell?”

Amelia shrugged. She thought of something to calm herself and her friend. Talking, yes that’s it. Talking always takes the mind off things. “This seems very much like what you dreamt, Anna?”

“I had a dream and not a nightmare and this is a bleedin’ nightmare…what if the ship sinks and we are still on it? I can’t even swim, Amelia.”

Anna was becoming hysterical. Amelia had to do something. “Come, Anna, let’s lie down on the bunk and close our eyes.”

Anna took her time to make up her mind. At last, she nodded and let herself be guided. When they lay down, Amelia started to pray. “Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

The two women repeated the words again and again. Amelia did not know for how long they prayed together, holding each other as if they were lovers. She had no time to blame her mother and father; she had no time to think of Airey Templeton French. All of her senses and thoughts were for one thing only: would they survive.

“Listen, it is over,” said Anna, wiggling out of Amelia’s embrace a little. “There’s hardly a sound.”

Amelia listened hard. All she could hear was the usual creak of the timbers and the sound of the draft as it hissed down the gangway beyond. “You’re right…” What she wanted to say next stuck to her tongue like congealed fat to a skillet. “All that’s left is for us to find out who won.”

As if in slow motion, Anna turned to face her. The expression on her face was one of abject fear “I never thought of that.”

They remained in silence for what seemed like an eternity as they tried to hear something that might explain their predicament more clearly. Then came the sound of heavy footsteps. They came in their direction without faltering. A heavy-set figure marched past the doorway to their cabin.

“He hasn’t seen us,” whispered Anna.

“He could be English,” said Amelia. “Shall I go and have a look.” She in no way felt as brave as her words suggested. Anna shook her head vehemently and grabbed her more forcefully.

They heard more footsteps. The onetime silence was replaced by a heightened sense of urgency. Shouts, curses and more shouts scudded down toward them from the deck up above. The two women exchanged glances. It would have been easier had the enemy been French or Spanish because then they would have been able to hear who was giving the orders. In this case, anything coherent that made its way down to their cabin was in English.

“Well, well, well, what do we have ‘ere?”

Amelia and Anna snapped their heads in the direction of the newcomer’s voice. Standing in the doorframe was one of the largest men they had ever seen. His face was crisscrossed with scars, some of which glowed in a sort of purple hue. He grinned at them. Surprisingly, he still had all of his teeth. He had brown hair and piercing blue eyes that could kill on the spot.

Yet, despite his ferocious countenance, Amelia detected kindness in those eyes. The spindly web of wrinkles around them spoke of much laughter and gaiety. Was this a killer? Yes, probably. But, he was also a man with dreams, a heart and she assumed a great sense of humor. On the spot, Amelia decided that he was ten times the man Lord Airey Templeton French was. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He offered a rather comical bow. “My name’s First Lieutenant Jake Farrows and I am at your service.” His accent was strange. It still had something of the Home Counties to it, but it was diluted with something else. Amelia’s mother would refer to it as colonial. “What’s the matter? Do I scare ye?” He guffawed.

Jake looked down. “Oh, I see.” He quickly wiped the blade of his sword that was still dripping with blood on the fabric of his breeches that were equally stained and sheathed it. “That’s better. Sorry about that. We had a bit of a fight up there. It’s all good now…you can come with me.” He held out a calloused and grimy hand and smiled again.

“Take us where?” asked Amelia.

“To my captain of course. He will know what to do with ye.”

“Oh, I see,” said Amelia who had had her back pressed against the planking of the ship up until now. She gradually tried to slide off the bed. It was not possible. She had to sooth Anna for a moment who would not let go of her.

“Don’t worry, young lady. The captain won’t hurt ye…purrs as a kitten, he does,” said Jake kindly.

“What about you?” Amelia was still suspicious of the huge man who had hands the size of plates. If he wanted to, he could crush a woman’s skull with them.

“Ol’ Jake ain’t gonna hurt anyone. All the hurting’s been done already.” He hooted laughter again. “Come on.” When he saw Anna’s reluctance, he walked up to her. “I understand; a pretty girl like ye must have been scared with all that shooting and swordplay up and abouts’. Let ol’ Jake give ye a hand.”

Anna recoiled. Amelia still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Conflicting emotions coursed through her. Should she hit him on the head with the stool in the corner of the cabin? She discounted that notion the moment it came to mind. Jake’s skull would probably shatter the sturdy piece of furniture like a feeble twig on a stone.

But to her surprise, she didn’t need to. Miraculously, the burly seaman had lifted Anna into his arms and carried her as if he were going to step over the threshold of their new home. “Watch yer head, blossom. It gets awful tight inside a frigate. Ye will feel a lot more comfortable on board the Triton. We have far more space than on this old tub.”

“The Triton?” asked Amelia.

“Aye, that’s our ship. The captain’s very proud of her too,” said Jake, carefully maneuvering his precious cargo out of the cabin. He took a few moments to study Anna’s shivering frame. “Ye are mighty pretty, lass,” he crooned.

“Might I have the name of your captain?” asked Amelia, completely abashed by the huge sailor’s mellifluous manner.

“Captain Jonathan Mitchell,” said Jake, at the same time whispering some more soothing words to Anna.

“He wouldn’t happen to be Black Joe, would he?” Amelia shuddered by just mentioning the name.

“Aye, one and the same. You English sure did come up with a strange name for him. He’s the nicest man I know and the greatest of friends. You’ll see.” With those words, he vanished up the stairway and through the door above. “Ye coming?” he shouted.

Amelia did not share his enthusiasm in the least. But she had no choice. She would have to face the captain at one point or another, and she would be damned if she left poor Anna at that pirate’s mercy no matter how sweet she was told he was.

Swallowing deeply, she mounted the steps and exited the stern of the ship where the cabins were situated. At first, the sunlight blurred her vision, making her sneeze. Raucous laughter followed this action. It took her a few moments for her vision to adjust.

While this was happening, she couldn’t come to grips with all of the noises around her. Nothing sounded like there had been a fight. The banter was jovial. The only thing betraying this assumed peacefulness was the odd groan from the wounded men.

As her vision slowly came into focus, she could make out the silhouette of a man. From her first impression, he was tall and had broad shoulders. More focus - his face came into perspective. The man standing before her was not just tall; he towered above her. What struck Amelia the most was the tuft of fiery red hair on his head. It distracted from his handsome, chiseled features that boasted both masculinity and limitless virility – Amelia felt her mouth slide open a notch.

“Captain, this is…” Jake set Anna down. After making sure she was stable on her feet, he scratched his head.

“You forgot to ask their names, didn’t you? Trust you, Jake, to lose all brain function when in the presence of women.”

The handsome man, who was also the captain, chuckled and along with him, many of the men. Amelia could not believe that the man standing before her held any kind of command. His frowzy blue coat showed distinct signs of wear and tear on the shoulders and around the wrists. His face was covered in black smudges as if he had been the one firing the cannons. A cursory glance at the prisoners huddled on the other side of the deck proved her point. Captain Wimple was still meticulously turned out.

“Your names, please?” he asked in a throaty baritone that was as sticky as molasses and captivating. It was so rich that it distracted from the curtness of his request.

“Anna Titbits, Your Honor.”

The men burst out laughing, forcing Anna to blush. “And you?” The captain’s unyielding gaze swerved to Amelia. The color of his eyes was blue like the sea and the sky.

“The Honorable Amelia Carlyle. My lady’s maid and I sought passage on the HMS Capricorn to British America…we are to be received by my betrothed, Lord Templeton French, son of the Duke of Brandon.” Amelia could’ve bit on her tongue for mentioning Airey. Why did I just do that? I loathe my betrothed.

“The both of ya? Lucky man, this Temple Frenchie fellow,” said the captain, grinning.

His men broke out into raucous laughter once again. They shouted lewd suggestions that the British had more than one wife to play with and that it was probably the reason why they were so stiff all the time. Even the captain, who habitually displayed a taciturn demeanor, couldn’t help chuckling.

For the first time, Amelia blushed because of a man. It was strange because she did not feel embarrassed – the feeling was something else – something unknown to her. She tried to stare the captain down, but she had no power over this man. He was a tower of self-confidence. It angered her that he had caught her out so.

“Well, now that you have had your fun, might you do me the honor of introducing yourself?” It was all that came to Amelia’s mind.

“SILENCE!” he shouted.

The women shuddered at the power of the captain’s voice. In a heartbeat, the ship’s deck fell deathly silent. Amelia and Anna found themselves looking at the sailors all around them. They had turned from a rowdy mob into a collective displaying perfect discipline in less than a heartbeat.

“Captain Jonathan Mitchell, at your service, ma’am.” He even managed a small bow.

Amelia gulped. This man had such power over her. She had never felt such sensations before. They alternated between fluttering brush strokes against her insides and heady rushes of heat skirting the underside of her skin.

It took all of her willpower to control herself. There is no need to be afraid of this man, she thought, completely misinterpreting her feelings. He is a despicable Yank and a traitor. She scanned the ship. Probably half the men here are British subjects that betrayed their country. Amelia referred to the many desertions in the Royal Navy that had taken place since the beginning of the war in 1812.

“What do you have in mind…with us…the crew?” asked Amelia, fearing her fate more and more as the minutes ticked by.

“The crew has the choice to join the American Navy. Those that do not wish to do so shall be imprisoned for the duration of the war. And the officers will be treated as their rank suggests. Anything else?” Captain Mitchell’s eyes darkened.

“I see…and what is to become of us?” Amelia indicated with her hand to Anna.

“I don’t know yet.” With those words, Captain Mitchell turned on his heels and started to issue orders.

The ship’s crew jutted into motion, running this way and that. Armed American crewmen began to shepherd the captives into groups, dividing those men that wished to join the American cause and those that preferred to remain loyal to the crown. Jake took Anna by the hand and walked over to Amelia. “You best come with me.”

“Where to?” asked Amelia.

“To the Triton…” Seeing her questioning gaze, Jake elaborated. “Our ship – now, come along.”

“What about our things?”

“They will be transported aboard for ye. Let’s be quick. The captain wants to get underway.”

A cacophonous shout came from the direction of the Triton. It was Captain Mitchell again, bellowing orders. Amelia wondered how he had gotten aboard his ship so quickly.

“He’s an impatient bastard, he is. But the finest man there is,” said Jake, hurrying them forward toward a gangplank that had been set up for the transportation of the booty.