As if summoned by their conversation, the soft sound of footsteps on the deck announced another late-night wanderer. Mrs. Bell appeared from the direction of the galley, a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair looser than its usual careful arrangement.
“Gentlemen,” she said with surprise, pausing when she spotted them at the bow. “I did not expect to encounter anyone other than the watch at this hour.”
“I could not sleep,” Darcy replied diplomatically, noting how Richard straightened unconsciously at her approach. “The night is too beautiful to waste in cramped quarters.”
Mrs. Bell moved to join them, positioning herself between the two men. “I often find the night peaceful. The sea under moonlight makes one feel connected to all the travelers who have crossed these waters throughout history.”
“Beautifully expressed.” Richard smiled.
Mrs. Bell turned toward him, an answering smile on her lips. “Why, thank you. Though I fear my romantic notions must seem silly to a practical military man.”
“On the contrary,” Richard replied, his gaze never leaving her. “Your perspective is insightful. You see poetry where others merely see navigation.”
The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken meaning, and Darcy recognized the cue to withdraw. “I believe I shall attempt to sleep after all.” He stepped back from the rail. “Good evening, Mrs. Bell. Richard.”
As he began to make his way to their quarters, Darcycaught the sound of Mrs. Bell’s muffled laughter mingling with Richard’s deeper tone. But before he could leave the deck, his cousin suddenly rushed toward him.
“Darcy, you must wake Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet. A school of dolphins is frolicking in the wake of the ship. The others will not want to miss the sight.”
Grateful to have a reason to see Elizabeth before morning, Darcy rapped on their door. Soon she and her father had joined him by the rail and were exclaiming in wonder over the dolphins’ antics. The sound of her merry delight filled him with a warmth he made no effort to examine. Darcy was certain that, once he settled in his bunk and closed his eyes, he would dream of her.
23
Four days later, on the twenty-sixth of April, Colonel Fitzwilliam stood beside Captain Morrison on the deck of theMary Catherine.Every muscle in his body was taut with the familiar tension that preceded battle. The full moon that had blessed their crossing with brilliant light was now obscured by gathering clouds, casting the sea into an ominous darkness that suited their current predicament.
“Keep your voices down, lads,” Morrison said in a whisper. His weathered face was grim as he studied the horizon through his spyglass. “Sound carries farther over water than you might think, and we want no French ears or pirates catching wind of our presence.”
Richard nodded his approval of the captain’s caution. They had pulled away from the Spanish coast into enemy territory, moving far enough into open water that they would be invisible to any observers on shore. It was a sensible tactic. French territorial waters meant French naval patrols. A British merchant vessel would be consideredfair game for harassment, search, or worse. Already, they had spotted a looming shadow trailing them that was large enough to be a warship. They had no way to determine whether it was friend or foe, though the odds that the ship was friendly were slim to none.
The wind picked up suddenly, filling their sails and driving them further from the relative safety of the coastline. Memories surfaced unbidden: the screams of artillery, the metallic taste of fear and gunpowder, and the sight of his friend Lieutenant Hawkins taking his last breath. The French were efficient killers, he would grant them that.
“I would value your assessment of our situation,” Morrison said. “You have dealt with French forces before.”
Richard dragged his attention back to the present danger. “They are methodical and thorough when they suspect someone is transporting munitions or items they are desperate to possess. If they find a reason to board us, they will search every inch of this vessel. What exactly are we carrying that might interest them?”
Morrison’s hesitation was answer enough.
Darcy and Mr. Bennet approached. They had heard the question, and all three waited for the captain’s reply.
“Standard trade goods, mostly,” Morrison said. “Textiles, preserved foods, some luxury items for the English community in Egypt.” Another pause. “And military supplies.”
“What sort of military supplies? Were those not offloaded in Gibraltar?” Richard’s voice remained controlled.
“Gunpowder and ammunition. Not the entireshipment I carried from London. I left the bulk of it in Gibraltar. What remains is destined for British forces in Malta.” The captain’s admission hung heavily in the salt air. “It was a calculated risk. The British garrison is desperately short of supplies. This route offered the best chance of getting them through.”
The colonel’s blood turned cold. If the French discovered military contraband aboard a British merchant ship in their waters, it meant immediate confiscation of the ship and cargo, imprisonment or impressment for the crew, and God knows what fate for the passengers. The women would become prisoners of war at best or, at worse, bargaining chips in whatever political games the French were currently playing. Darcy would be ransomed. But he, with his hidden military coat, would be…well, he refused to dwell upon the probable consequences.
“Where is it stored?” he asked tersely.
“False bottom in the cargo hold. Concealed well enough to pass a casual inspection. But if they start breaking open containers…”
“They will find it,” Richard said. His mind raced through possibilities and contingencies, none of them appealing. He knew what happened to prisoners taken by French forces. He had witnessed the aftermath of interrogations that had left strong men broken and weeping. The thought of the ladies facing such treatment filled him with rage.
“What are our options if we encounter aggression?” Darcy asked.
“Run, primarily,” Morrison replied. “TheMary Catherineis fast and maneuverable. We left a considerableamount of cargo in Gibraltar, so we are riding higher than we did in the Atlantic. In open water with favorable winds, we might outpace a heavier warship. But if they corner us near shore or in calm seas…”
“We surrender and hope for the best,” Richard said, the words tasting like ashes in his mouth. “Though we cannot surrender without ensuring the ladies’ safety first.”
