Chapter 13: The Chase

The blast sent a violent jolt through the cabin, shoving Charlisse to the floor.

"Are ye a'right, miss?" Sloane rushed to her side.

Footsteps pounded above as the pirates rushed back and forth, shouting vile things that caused her to shiver in disgust. Something terrible was happening.

Taking Sloane's outstretched hand, she stood, bracing herself against the rocking of the ship. A sudden crack filled the air, followed by a loud boom that reverberated through the hull. She darted to the window. A large plume of gray smoke obscured her view. It must be from our cannons. It had never occurred to her that they would do any pirating while on their way to Port Royal, but why not, if the opportunity presented itself? They were pirates, after all.

Her eyes darted to Slone's. "What was that? Did we fire on someone?" She swallowed nervously.

"Naw, miss. There's naught to concern ye. I'm sure Cap'n's got it all under control." He glanced toward the door with an apprehensive look. "But I'll jist go see fer meself."

He patted her hand and turned, but Charlisse wouldn't let go. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to be trapped, not knowing what was happening. She didn't want to sink again into the Caribbean watersor worse, be blasted into tiny bits! Her mouth went dry and her tongue wouldn't move. She tried to beg him to stay, but no sound passed through her lips.

"I be right back," Sloane said, prying his hand from hers.

He neglected to lock the door. Charlisse waited two minutes that seemed like two hours before deciding she would rather tempt her fate above deck than in the cabin, trapped like some bird in a cage.

She made her way through the companionway and reached the main deck, immediately spotting Captain Merrick on the foredeck near the bow, feet spread apart, telescope aimed past the stern, intently gazing at something behind them. Sloane stood by his side.

Charlisse crept to the railing to see what they were looking at. A large ship pursued them. A Spanish flag flew from beneath the crucifix at the head of its mainmast. A jet of charred smoke burst from its hull. Seconds later, the thunder of the cannon roared. She froze.

The shot plunged into the ocean not two yards off the starboard side of the Redemption, sending saltwater splashing over the railing. Charlisse jumped back, but the water drenched her. Losing her footing on the slippery wood, she plopped to the deck.

Chuckles erupted all around her.

A strong arm grabbed her by the waist, lifting her to her feet. She looked up to see Merrick's half-smile. "I thought I told you to stay below." His stern voice was tainted with humor as he held her tightly against him.

"I can't stay down there not knowing what's happening." She gave him a pleading look. "If I'm to face death, I wish it to find me staring squarely back upon it, not hiding beneath a pillow."

One strand of his hair had escaped his tie and blew in the wind, tickling her face.

"Well, I can't have you up here distracting everyone," he said, still not relinquishing his hold on her. "Including me." He glanced at Kent, who had climbed up onto the crosstrees for a better look at their adversary. "What say you, Kent?"

"They're coming straight for us now, full speed," he yelled. The first mate slid down the backstay, landed on his feet next to them, and gave Charlisse a wink.

Merrick hesitated, then took her by the hand up the foredeck ladder to the foremast. "Hold on to this and stay here," he ordered before turning his attention back to the galleon.

Sloane returned with a chart and compass. Several minutes passed as the captain studied the maps, periodically glancing at the sun and the compass while bracing his boots on the heaving deck. "Fifteen degrees to port, Master Kent."

"Fifteen to port," Kent bellowed across the deck to the helmsman as he headed down the ladder, directing other men to task.

The Redemption flew through the water, all sails full, plunging into the waves and sending spray back over the deck that showered Charlisse's face and neck. She clung to the mast, struggling to maintain her balance as the wind blasted and ship lunged over each rising swell. A rush of exhilaration sped through herlike she'd never known before. Despite the frightening circumstances, she felt alive for the first time.

She looked at the captain. His brows furrowed over a thoughtful gaze.

"Why do you run?" Charlisse asked. "Why not fight?" Not that she wanted a battle, but she was curious why a pirate would let such a handsome prize slip through his hands.

"Because, milady, the only way to take down a galleon of Spain is by trickery. They have forty guns to our twelve and double our men."

"Will they fire on us again?"

"No, we are out of their range. For the time being."

"But didn't they already hit us?"

"Just a flesh wound." Merrick looked up from his chart, folded it, and handed it to Sloane. "Check on Hawthorn and report back to me."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Merrick glanced at the mainsail. His eyes darkened. Two pirates worked on it with cord and needle.

"What if they can't repair it? Won't that affect our speed?"

"Possibly." Merrick's expression grew troubled as he looked at the galleon racing behind them. "Don't worry, miss. Freshly careened, the Redemption can easily pull eleven knotsmaybe nine or ten without damage. The galleon at top speed can only achieve eight."

The captain turned into the wind. Charlisse watched his back from where she clung to the foremast. Who was this man? Pirate? Gentleman? Commander? Man of faith? He both confused and intrigued her. And that frightened her the most. He was unpredictable, and unpredictable men were dangerous, untrustworthy.

He stood there undaunted, shirt billowing in the wind, arms crossed over his chest as though he commanded the worldunconcerned that a Spanish war ship pursued him.

He turned suddenly and caught her staring at him. Their eyes locked for an intense second. A hint of a smile formed on his lips.

Sloane jumped up the steps. "Hawthorn be okay, Cap'n," he announced. "Shot went clean through 'im."

Merrick nodded and began shouting orders. He commanded his men with efficiency and authority, sending them up and down the shrouds to adjust the sails for maximum wind. Yet despite his efforts, the galleon gained on them.

Charlisse's heart clenched. Visions of being sunk to the bottom of the Caribbean flooded her thoughts. Or worse yet, of becoming a Spanish prisoner, of enduring the vicious tortures the Spaniards inflicted on those whose religious views differed from their own.

Merrick looked through his telescope once again then lowered the glass and tapped it into his hand.

"Captain, they're approaching our starboard quarter, bearing their guns, and almost within range."

Merrick nodded, his gaze resting on the galleon, still a mile astern, but slowly gaining. Nothing in his expression betrayed any fear.

The same could not be said of Master Kent. He cleared his throat. "Any further orders?"

The terror in his voice caused Charlisse to stiffen.

Merrick pointed off the bow of the ship. "Do you see those islands?"

Kent followed the direction of his captain's hand, and after a few moments, his troubled gaze melted into one of enthusiasm. "Yes, I do." He paused before adding, "Ah, Captain. I see your plan now, and a …."

Overhearing part of the conversation and curious to see what Merrick was pointing at, Charlisse released the mast and inched toward the bow. Kent turned and held out his hand to help her, and she allowed him to guide her to the railing. Then shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw the little cluster of islands to which the men were referring.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Well, miss" Kent began, his voice oozing charm.

"That will be all, Kent," Merrick interrupted. "Prepare the men to furl top- and mainsails at my command."

The first mate hesitated. His brown hair blew freely in the breeze from under his black headscarf as eyes, narrow as a hawk's, roved over her.

"Aye, Captain," he sneered, without breaking the lock he had on her eyes, before he turned and strode away.

"We are shallow on the draft, milady." Merrick watched his first mate leave with a troubled look in his eye.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means the Redemption can go much closer to those islands than our Spanish friends can." His voice held a tone of mischief.

Gripping the railing, she studied the islands. Several minutes passed. She felt his gaze still upon her. He took a step closer, brushing his arm against hers.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay on deck, Captain. I hope I haven't been too much trouble."

One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. "The only trouble you have caused is the distraction of your presence." His hand covered hers on the rail. She felt her cheeks redden. Yet, she did not remove her hand from the warmth and strength of his. It was more comforting than she cared to admit.

Sloane approached, and Merrick finally released her and began bellowing orders that sent men into the shrouds to lower topsails and topgallants.

"Why are you slowing the ship?" Charlisse asked.

"The islands have cays and reefs surrounding them that must be carefully navigated. I cannot approach at full speed."

"Won't the galleon catch up to us then?"

"Let's pray they do not, milady." Lifting one brow, he added, "Oh, I forgot, you don't believe in God."

When she didn't reply, he bowed. "I need to take over the helm for a time. Stay here with Sloane. You'll be safe." He tipped his hat and left, shouting orders for two of the pirates to man the stern chasers.

She watched him take over the wheel on the quarterdeck and felt suddenly alone. His flatteries both delighted and frightened her, if that were possible. Yet perhaps that was all they werejust vain flatteries, without any meaning.

The Spanish warship swiftly descended on them. Charlisse felt as though the Redemption were a mouse scrambling for a tiny hole while a large catwith much bigger clawschased in fast pursuit.

Merrick tried his best to focus on the delicate navigation before him. Even so, he could not get the woman out of his mind. Her beauty was stunning enough, especially with mist sparkling like diamonds on her skin and hair. But she was so much more than that. He knew she was frightened. Yet she stood on the foredeck, her head high, facing her fate with more tenacity than most men. Most of the ladies he'd known would be cowering below during an impending sea battle, crying on their beds. He admired her strength, but with that came an overwhelming desire to protect hersomething he had never felt for any woman before.

The sound of cannon fire jolted him from his thoughts. The Spaniardsno doubt aware of his planwere making one last attempt to strike the Redemption as the distance between them closed. The shot missed their larboard quarter by just three yardsbathing them with saltwater before plunging to the bottom of the sea.

Captain Merrick immediately answered their fire with the rapid spit of chasers from his stern. If he could just hold them off for a few more minutes, the Redemption would be safe.