Forty-one

“Fire!” commanded Darington.

So far, his plan was working. He had sailed along the coastline of Ilhas Desertas in the early dawn. With break of day, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. He hoped it was a good omen.

His guns were primed, his men ready. Emma was well and hidden. They sailed around one of the rocky cliffs that formed the desolate island and found the Kestrel, just as he had suspected. Now he just needed to blast the traitor from the earth.

Cannon blasted through the peaceful morning, sending huge flocks of birds into the air, basking seals jumping for the ocean, and the men on the Kestrel scrambling. The attack shot through their rigging, made a mess of the quarterdeck, and blasted holes through their sails, but did not cripple their ship.

“Over again! Fire!” Dare commanded.

This time, only three of his cannons responded amid the shouts and curses of the men below. The Kestrel was not long caught unawares, and a volley blasted from the enemy ship, ripping into their hull and across their deck.

“Fire again!” shouted Dare, running to the gun deck. Men and guns and power were in chaos. The Kestrel had aimed true, blasting into their gun deck and causing havoc. The men struggled to move the debris and reset the guns. Even Tobias Stalk pushed a cannon back into place with his one good hand.

Another volley blasted from the Kestrel and Dare ran back to the main deck. With a sickening sound, the main mast was struck, violently shooting splinters across the deck.

Dare watched in horror as the main mast of his beloved Lady Kate splintered, cracked, and collapsed, taking the sheets with it as it crashed over the side, into the ocean. Dare’s stomach sank with it. They were dead. They were all dead. He had failed. He had cost Emma her life.

They had drifted just beyond the range of the Kestrel and he watched helplessly as the wind filled the sails of the enemy ship and she slowly began to approach. There was nothing he could do. He was dead in the water. He had been in many battles, but never had he felt such a clawing desperation. Never had he had more to live for or more to lose.

The initial yelling and shouting of the crew had given way to silence, and everyone watched as the Kestrel charged toward them, slicing through the breakers like death’s own scythe. All eyes were on him now. What would he do? He was the undefeatable Captain Darington. Yet he had been defeated. Would he call the men to the guns for another pointless volley?

“Strike the colors. Raise the white flag.” Dare did not raise his voice; he did not have to. Everyone heard him in the silence. There was an awful pause, a moment for the awful truth to become reality as his crew registered the meaning of his words.

With a heavy sigh, Everett struck the flag. “Do we even have a white flag?” he grumbled. Dare had never used one. In truth, he had never thought to use it. He would fight until he won or he was dead. It was simple. But now, he had Emma to protect. Nothing else mattered.

Lord, please, help me keep her safe. He needed help and he trusted her faith to save them both.

The Kestrel leveled her guns and slid closer. They would soon be in range for a broadside, the enemy ship ready to strike the final blow.

“Captain Harcourt, a word with you if I may,” called Dare with an air of false calm. “Or perhaps I should call you Esqueleto.”

“So you finally know my name.” A weathered man in an ornate coat called back to him. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“You are responsible for my father’s death.” Dare’s voice rang out across the water.

The Kestrel sailed so close he could see the smirk on Harcourt’s face. “I was. And now I will be responsible for yours.”

“You killed him with poison,” observed Dare. “A woman’s weapon.” Crew on both ships gasped and Captain Harcourt’s smirk vanished. “For the murder of my father, I challenge you to a duel.” Dare was generally calm in battle, but this time, his heart was pounding.

“You have no right to challenge me to a duel. I’ve got you dead to rights. I can give the command and blow you into the surf!” shouted Harcourt.

“I should have known you would not have the courage to face me in combat,” Dare yelled in return. “That is why you snuck into my home and killed my injured father with poison—because you feared him as you fear me. Go ahead and give the command. But everyone will know the truth of what you are: a sniveling coward who is afraid to face me man to man.”

Dare’s crew shouted in agreement. Harcourt’s crew stared at their captain. If he did not meet Dare in combat, he would lose face. Dare only hoped he had baited him enough to accept the challenge, but not enough to blast him on the spot.

Harcourt’s face flushed red, his eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Cast the hooks! Bring her in!”

Dare held a hand to still his crew as the Kestrel slacked their sails and threw their grappling hooks, lashing onto the Lady Kate and bringing her in with a crunch. Dare tried to ignore the splintering sound of his ship as the two collided.

He stared at the man who had killed his father, robbed his inheritance, caused his sister no end of misery, and now threatened to kill him…and Emma.

Captain Harcourt leapt over the railings and was suddenly before him, seething with fury, breathing through his teeth. Dare was sobered by the muscular build of the man before him. The man was broad shouldered and thick necked. His presence oozed power, strength, and cold malice. “You will die today.”

“A duel to the death.” Dare knew this was how it must be. “Let us set terms.”

“Let us fight!”

“Since I have challenged you, you have the right to choose the weapon.” By convention, seconds would take up the negotiations of terms and attempt to dissuade the fight. No such civility would occur here.

“Swords, as we are gentlemen.” Harcourt smiled something malicious. Esqueleto’s skill with the sword was infamous.

“You, sir, are a traitor and no gentleman.”

Harcourt’s smile faded into a glare. “Duel to the death. Winner takes the ship, the cargo, and the crew.”

“And whatever it was that you wanted from the gig of the Mercedes.”

Harcourt’s nostrils flared and his eyebrows rose before he schooled his expression once more. “As you wish.”

Dare’s guess was right. The gig was from the Mercedes and Harcourt wanted it badly.

Dare had learned to size up any enemy and determine his best course for victory. He had hoped to find Harcourt past his prime, but this was not the case. The man was tall, strong, and vigorous, a worthy opponent. If Dare should fall to him, what would become of Emma hiding in his cabin?

“I have one request before we begin, if you would consent to indulge me,” said Dare in a calm, neutral tone.

“I have little care for your desires. What do you want?”

“I would ask that you preside over my wedding.”

Harcourt’s eyebrows soared up, his wide eyes a contrast to his usual squint. Harcourt stared at him. The crew on both ships gaped at him.

“Your wedding?”