Thirty-seven

Dare strode from his cabin and set a new course, sailing toward the deserted island of Ilhas Desertas. Whether the gig was from the Mercedes or not, if Harcourt was after it, then at least Dare knew where to find the man.

For the first time since his search for Harcourt began, he felt he might have the upper hand. He had Emma to thank for that. Without her, he never would have realized pages were missing from his log.

It was all starting to make sense. Harcourt had not disappeared; he had reemerged as a notorious pirate. This was not going to be an easy fight.

“Mr. Everett, we will be at quarters,” said Dare.

“Captain?” Everett glanced around, looking for the unseen foe.

“It is time to work on our aim.”

“Oh! Aye, sir.”

If they were going to be able to capitalize on the element of surprise, they had to be able to shoot straight. The day was fine and the wind steady. It was a good day for target practice.

“We won’t be able to run all the guns,” commented Everett.

“I’d rather have six guns blazing with accuracy than fifty without.”

Everett was skeptical, but the men were brought to quarters and six cannons selected for practicing their skill. If there was any good side to being short of crew, it was that the cannon in his cabin would go unused. If he had been sailing with a full complement, the dividing walls would be removed, and the cannon rolled out for use. Fortunately, they had not the men for it, so Emma remained in relative peace.

Mr. Bean organized them into teams, with Tobias Stalk demanding absolute obedience should anyone stray or look as if he was not paying attention. Mr. Stalk certainly lived up to his promise and worked tirelessly to get the rowdy crew to stand at attention.

Dare had directed a few crates be bound, and a pole attached with some streamers, so it could be seen readily. Dare tossed it overboard, then worked with Everett to bring the ship around to take a shot at their target.

“Run out your gun. Prime. Aim. Fire!” commanded Dare. He watched with some disappointment as only half the guns rang out, while the other teams dissolved into heated arguments over who was at fault for not firing. Of those who did fire, none hit the target.

With considerable effort to overcome the chaos and disarray, the teams were formed once again, and the order given to shoot the target. All of the guns sounded, which would have been more satisfying if even one team had been able to hit the target.

Dare shook his head and went down to the gun deck to assist the teams directly. They had to do better if they had any chance of defeating Harcourt.

“Congratulations on making your gun sing,” began Dare to his men. “But the only safe place to be is sitting atop our target. Now let’s review how to aim.”

The men began to take instruction, learning how to aim with precision. Next, Dare worked on speed. Accuracy and speed were vital. It was what he was known for. And while he could not turn them into his experienced crew in an afternoon, he could make them a good deal better.

One team was struggling with the reload and Dare strode down the battery deck, acrid smoke swirling in his wake. Dare began to give instruction to one team when a shout from Mr. Stalk grabbed his attention.

The crew behind him fired out of sequence, leaving Dare directly in the path of its recoil. Dare dove out of the way, knowing he could not get clear of the cannon before it smashed into him. He rolled and came up surprisingly unhurt. But how was that possible?

The large form of Tobias Stalk lay at the base of the gun.

“My word, Cap’n,” gasped Mr. Bean. “He done stopped that gun from hitting you with his own bare hands.”

“Quickly now, free him!” commanded Dare.

The men jumped up and quickly rolled the gun away. Tobias Stalk had a bad knock on the head and one of his hands had been crushed by a cannon wheel.

“Is he dead?” asked Everett, removing his cap out of respect.

“No,” replied Dare. “He breathes still but is grievous hurt.”

“I wish we had a surgeon on board.” Everett shook his head. “I suppose we should take him down to the infirmary, though I doubt he’ll fit on the table.”

“No, he certainly won’t.”

“Only table long enough on board this ship is the one in your ready room,” observed Everett.

No. He could not bring a man into his ready room, so close to Emma. Of course, if anyone on board knew what to do, it would be her. Maybe she could give him advice. He had been busy with battery practice all afternoon and had not seen her.

A sudden realization gripped him. He had not thought to tell her he was conducting drills with the men. What must she have thought when she heard the cannon blast?

Oh. No.

“Captain?” asked Everett, confused by Dare’s sudden silence.

“You’re right. Best to lay him out on my long table in my ready room. The man may have saved my life. Least I can do. Wrap the wound and be careful with him. I’ll prepare the room.”

Dare ran to his quarters, knowing he must face Emma. He rapped quietly and she opened the door immediately, her face white, her eyes wide. He stepped inside quickly and shut the door behind him, lest she be seen.

“What happened?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“The men are bringing an injured man into the ready room,” he whispered in a rush. “Stay hidden. All is well. Target practice.”

“Target practice?” she mouthed back to him. Recognition dawned and her eyes narrowed. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Target practice?” she mouthed again.

“Should have told you.” He could not come up with a plausible excuse. He was simply not accustomed to thinking about anyone besides himself. He had never before seen Emma St. James angry, but her plump lips thinned into a straight line and her jaw set. He would not be kissing those lips anytime soon.

“I thought we were under attack!” she hissed. “I have spent the afternoon praying for your safety!”

Dare cringed, knowing he had wronged her. “Sorry?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, which only pushed her décolletage higher, as if mocking him with what he could never have. The voices of the men bringing Tobias into the ready room grew louder and he knew he must go.

“I…I must attend.…injured man. He saved my life.”

Emma’s glare was withering. Dare wished Tobias Stalk would jump in between and rescue him once more. He had a feeling, though, that Tobias might take her side.

“I will dine with the men tonight. Again, I apologize. Must go.”

She put a hand on his sleeve to stop him and reached in her bag to pull out the laudanum and a dosing cup. “Give the man this much.”

“Thank you.”

He exited the room just in time to help the men lay out the injured Tobias Stalk. He did not know how he was going to save the big man any more than he knew how to repair the rift he had caused with Emma.

* * *

Emma had spent the afternoon on her knees praying for their safety as their ship was under attack. Cannon fire blasted through the day, shaking the ship. She half expected someone to barge in to use the cannon that lay dormant in the cabin, but nobody did. She did expect that Dare would come and tell her what was happening. But he never did that either.

When Dare informed her it was all just practice, a hot rush of anger flushed through her. She wanted to scream at him for putting her through such agony and then embrace him, for her prayers prayers for his safety had been answered.

She paced in his small chamber, trying to think of what to say when next he came to the door. She would let him know exactly how he had wronged her. It would cause him pain no doubt, but he deserved it.

When he finally returned, he only slipped in briefly to give her some food he had managed to hide under his coat. Voices came near, and he whispered quickly that he would be on watch that night, and left without giving her a chance to respond.

Emma glared at the door, hoping he would return, so they could continue the conversation, but clearly he was a man who knew how to avoid a fight he could not win, for he did not return. Finally, the ship quieted down, and Emma’s anger began to subside. She supposed Dare was unaccustomed to having to answer to a lady hidden in his cabin. He was under considerable strain.

She tried to sleep, but the occasional groan of the injured man kept her awake. She remembered Dare had said the man had saved his life. She knew Dare had demanded she stay hidden, but how could she let a man suffer? No, Dare must act within his nature, and so must she.

Emma slowly opened the door a crack. A large man lay covered with a sheet on the long table. They had left a lantern, but otherwise, the man was alone. He groaned again in his sleep, and Emma slipped out into the ready room and locked the door, so she would have privacy.

The dose of laudanum she had suggested should have been enough to put down a man for a good, long time. She was not sure what she could do to help the man, but she did know for a certainty that she could not leave the poor man groaning in pain without doing something to render assistance.

Emma stepped closer and lifted her lantern to assess the patient. At first she was not sure what she was seeing, for the shape was unusually large and she thought perhaps a bundle of clothes or other items had been left on the table with the man. But no. As she crept closer, she realized this was one large man—about seven feet tall.

“My, but you are a tall one,” she whispered.

“Always have been.” The giant opened his eyes.