along the deck for a quarter of an hour.”
“How generous. Let me fetch a hat,” she said thinking better of going on deck without some protection from the sun. She had a pale complexion that did not freckle but easily burned. She had no hat with her at the moment. She’d worn a lovely green one with a peacock feather in it to Josie’s wedding breakfast, but she had no idea what had happened to it. She still wore her tattered day dress of green muslin with a gauzy overlay of crepe—crepe now frayed from all of her adventures. She couldn’t hope to acquire a new gown on the ship, but certainly Nick had a hat she might borrow. She spotted a black one with a wide brim and lifted it. It was Spanish in style and reminded her of a sort of cavalier hat. She placed it on her head at a jaunty angle and could not resist looking at herself in the mirror.
When she opened the wardrobe and saw her reflection, she gave the girl a wide smile. Why, she looked almost like a pirate herself. How she wished she had a feather for this hat or large gold hoop earrings or a brace of pistols. Seeing her armed would certainly strike fear into Nick’s heart.
It was then she heard the sound of a drum and the words, “Sail, ho! Dead astern!”
FIVE
N ick swore and made his way to the poop deck where Chante stood with his spyglass trained on the open water just off their starboard side. As soon as Nick was beside him, Chante handed the glass to the captain. “Three points off the starboard stern. Too far away to identify, Cap’n, but looks like they’re flying the Union Jack.”
Nick positioned the glass and found the approaching ship easily. She was headed straight for them. Chante was correct. At this distance, he could not identify her. As he watched her cut across the waves, moving at a fast clip and straight for them, he spoke calmly, “Mr. Daniels, stay on course. Mr. Chante, make sure the men are ready for a battle, if it comes to that. Tell Mr. Shanks to ready his gunners.” He lowered the spyglass. “I want the stern chasers ready as well.”
The
Robin Hood
was a 36-gun frigate with a crew of more than one hundred, but Nick had gone to some trouble to streamline the already fast ship and outfit it with smaller cannonades on the bow and stern. These were rifle-barreled guns that shot straight and accurate. From a distance, the stern chasers might not be spotted, therefore fooling the enemy into thinking the frigate less powerful. Sometimes that advantage ruled the day.
He lifted the spyglass again then turned abruptly, distracted by a glimpse of wheat-blond hair. Surely, his mind was playing tricks on him. They were at battle stations. Ashley was not strolling about the deck in his favorite hat as though out for a promenade.
But all he had to do was follow the gazes of every man on deck to know she was. Mr. Fellowes followed her dutifully, his look sheepish, as she approached the rail and placed her hand on the smooth oak. “What the devil,” he muttered.
“That’s something you doan see every day,” Chante said.
Nick rounded on him. “I thought I gave you orders.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” With a whistle he began to call commands, pulling the men’s attention away from the woman in their midst to their duties at the moment. Nick turned to Daniels, who was still staring openly at Ashley.
“What are you looking at?”
“Steering the ship, Cap’n,” Daniels said.
“Keep your eyes on the water and not on my wife.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
Nick climbed down the ladder and swung onto the deck, crossing to the quarterdeck with several long strides. He addressed his third mate first. “There’s a ship out there, Mr. Fellowes. We may beat to quarters at any moment. Where is your station?”
“I heard the warning, Cap’n, but I had Mrs. Cap’n to see to.”
“Mrs. Cap’n should be in my cabin. That is her battle station until I say otherwise.”
“Mr. Fellowes, might Captain Robin Hood and I have a
“How generous. Let me fetch a hat,” she said thinking better of going on deck without some protection from the sun. She had a pale complexion that did not freckle but easily burned. She had no hat with her at the moment. She’d worn a lovely green one with a peacock feather in it to Josie’s wedding breakfast, but she had no idea what had happened to it. She still wore her tattered day dress of green muslin with a gauzy overlay of crepe—crepe now frayed from all of her adventures. She couldn’t hope to acquire a new gown on the ship, but certainly Nick had a hat she might borrow. She spotted a black one with a wide brim and lifted it. It was Spanish in style and reminded her of a sort of cavalier hat. She placed it on her head at a jaunty angle and could not resist looking at herself in the mirror.
When she opened the wardrobe and saw her reflection, she gave the girl a wide smile. Why, she looked almost like a pirate herself. How she wished she had a feather for this hat or large gold hoop earrings or a brace of pistols. Seeing her armed would certainly strike fear into Nick’s heart.
It was then she heard the sound of a drum and the words, “Sail, ho! Dead astern!”
FIVE
N ick swore and made his way to the poop deck where Chante stood with his spyglass trained on the open water just off their starboard side. As soon as Nick was beside him, Chante handed the glass to the captain. “Three points off the starboard stern. Too far away to identify, Cap’n, but looks like they’re flying the Union Jack.”
Nick positioned the glass and found the approaching ship easily. She was headed straight for them. Chante was correct. At this distance, he could not identify her. As he watched her cut across the waves, moving at a fast clip and straight for them, he spoke calmly, “Mr. Daniels, stay on course. Mr. Chante, make sure the men are ready for a battle, if it comes to that. Tell Mr. Shanks to ready his gunners.” He lowered the spyglass. “I want the stern chasers ready as well.”
The
Robin Hood
was a 36-gun frigate with a crew of more than one hundred, but Nick had gone to some trouble to streamline the already fast ship and outfit it with smaller cannonades on the bow and stern. These were rifle-barreled guns that shot straight and accurate. From a distance, the stern chasers might not be spotted, therefore fooling the enemy into thinking the frigate less powerful. Sometimes that advantage ruled the day.
He lifted the spyglass again then turned abruptly, distracted by a glimpse of wheat-blond hair. Surely, his mind was playing tricks on him. They were at battle stations. Ashley was not strolling about the deck in his favorite hat as though out for a promenade.
But all he had to do was follow the gazes of every man on deck to know she was. Mr. Fellowes followed her dutifully, his look sheepish, as she approached the rail and placed her hand on the smooth oak. “What the devil,” he muttered.
“That’s something you doan see every day,” Chante said.
Nick rounded on him. “I thought I gave you orders.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” With a whistle he began to call commands, pulling the men’s attention away from the woman in their midst to their duties at the moment. Nick turned to Daniels, who was still staring openly at Ashley.
“What are you looking at?”
“Steering the ship, Cap’n,” Daniels said.
“Keep your eyes on the water and not on my wife.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
Nick climbed down the ladder and swung onto the deck, crossing to the quarterdeck with several long strides. He addressed his third mate first. “There’s a ship out there, Mr. Fellowes. We may beat to quarters at any moment. Where is your station?”
“I heard the warning, Cap’n, but I had Mrs. Cap’n to see to.”
“Mrs. Cap’n should be in my cabin. That is her battle station until I say otherwise.”
“Mr. Fellowes, might Captain Robin Hood and I have a
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