“The dory should be on the beach, directly in front of the yacht.”
They resumed walking, but slowed their pace as he and Miss Marshall approached the boat with the nameBelle Amiepainted in yellow. It was exactly where it should be. A number of people strolled and hurried around them. “Miss Marshall, do you see anyone who looks out of place?”
She smiled as if he’d once again said something witty. “No, do you?”
“Nothing.” They might get through this with no one the wiser. Yet instinct told him someone was near, and watching them. “I will hand you into the boat before I push it off the beach.”
“Won’t that tax your strength?”
It would, but he’d pay for it later when they were safe. “If they are searching for me, they’ll look for a man who is suffering from weakness.”
Miss Marshall nodded and laughed, allowing him to assist her into the dory. “You’re right, of course.”
He pushed them off, scrambled in, then grabbed the oars.
A tall white man dressed as a sailor sauntered along the beach. “Are you going to Mr. Beaufort’s ship?”
Nathan stiffened. “We are.”
“He sent me to row you out.”
Nathan raised a brow of inquiry, and the man continued, “He’s already got all his other dories aboard and doesn’t need this one.” The man waded into the water, leaned in close and pressed a piece of paper into Nathan’s hand. “You can trust me, Mr. Wivenly.”
He opened it and recognized Vincent’s familiar scrawl. “Thank you, Mr. . . .”
The man gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “No names.”
The hair on Nathan’s neck stood up. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Vincent would die before betraying them. Nathan exchanged glances with Miss Marshall, giving his head an imperceptible shake. She inclined her head slightly, and clutched her reticule with one hand and the bench with the other. He placed his hand surreptitiously half-way down one of the oars. He had a choice—attack now, when the man wasn’t expecting it, knowing there was a chance he was wrong, or wait until they were in the harbor, where it would be more dangerous for Miss Marshall and possibly him as well.
As the sailor lifted his leg to climb in, Miss Marshall struck his head with her reticule. He staggered back, giving Nathan time to pull strong strokes, propelling them into the harbor.
“Bitch!”the man growled. “All of your kind should be in shackles.”
Her spine stiffened, but the only thing she said was, “If you need me to row, I am able.”
Nathan’s intention to head in a straight line had been thwarted. He knew that during their flight from the thug he’d gotten off course. After a few moments, while they were approaching the boats at anchor, Nathan said, “Look for Vincent or Conrad. If you don’t see them, we’ll have to think of something else.”
Soon they heard shouts of welcome directing them to his friend’s sloop. “Thank God.”
Miss Marshall’s smile was genuine this time. “Mr. Beaufort is truly our savior.”
When they arrived at the ship, Conrad reached down to help her up the rope ladder. “Did you have any trouble?”
“Just a bit.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll let Mr. Wivenly tell you.”
Nathan hooked the lines up to the small boat for it to be raised before following her to the deck.
“What happened?” Vincent asked as soon as Nathan was aboard.
He handed his friend the note and told them about the man.
Vincent scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve either been compromised, or I have a traitor. There is nothing I can do now. We must depart quickly before anyone else attempts to stop us.”
The anchor and sails were being raised as he spoke. Soon they were maneuvering their way out of the crowded harbor into the Caribbean Sea.
Nathan would be home soon. He just hoped he was in time.
With the wind coming from the east, theSong Birdmade a speedy trip to Soper’s Hole on the southwest end of Tortola. Eugénie stood at the rail gazing out over the water, William’s arms encircled her as the sun sank below the horizon, encased in streaks of red clouds. Their luck was in, as her papa would have said. “The weather will be good tomorrow.”
