Page 29 of Mardon

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he spat.

“Well, I don’t,” she told him. “I have no idea who it could be.”

“Stay here,” he told her, starting out the door and then stopping once again. He spoke to her over his shoulder. “We’re not done here, yet. Even though I know who you really are, I don’t want the crew to find out. Keep up your bloody act of being a nun . . . for now.”

“I am a nun,” she told him. “Or almost one. I haven’t taken my vows yet, but I’ve put in my time at the convent.”

Mardon smiled, thinking of the way the girl kissed and that painting on the wall. She was the furthest thing from a nun that he’d ever seen. “Take it from me, Emmaline. With your wanton desires, you’ll never make it as a nun. I promise you that.”

Chapter 7

“Aaron, get down here,” Mardon shouted, looking up to the lines where his brother was in the lookout basket, staring out to sea. “Nay, on second thought, stay there,” he called out. “I’ll come up to join you.”

“Cap’n, are we goin’ to board and raid the French ship?” asked Goldtooth, rushing up with Ramble at his side.

“Aaron said we’re goin’ to take it,” said Ramble excitedly.

Mardon looked out to sea. Off in the distance, he saw another ship coming from the shores of France. Something in his gut told him to turn and sail the other way. Still, his brother was quartermaster now, and it was his decision. He didn’t want to belittle his brother in front of the others. He had to talk him out of this, because he could feel it in his bones it was a mistake.

“Tell Stitch to stay on course to Canterbury for now. I need to talk to Aaron.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” said Goldtooth taking off for the sterncastle in a hurry.

“Where are ye goin’, Cap’n?” asked Ramble, looking at him oddly.

“I just told you. I’m going to talk to my brother.”

“Up there?” Ramble chuckled. Mardon knew it was because of his dislike of climbing the rigging. Ever since he fell from the rigging on his father’s fishing boat as a young man, breaking both his arm and leg, he’d been hesitant to climb the lines and tried to avoid it. He didn’t fancy the idea, but it was the only place he could talk to Aaron in private. “Of course, up there. Don’t you see Aaron in the lookout?”

“Aye, I see Aaron, Cap’n, but he’s always up there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen ye climb the riggin’ let alone make it all the way to the lookout basket. Are ye sure ye want to go?”

Nay, Mardon didn’t want to, and might have changed his decision if Ramble hadn’t been laughing at him under his breath. “Wipe that smirk off your face before I knock it off,” Mardon warned him. “Now, get back to work and get the hell out of my way.”

Mardon took a hold of the ropes and climbed, trying not to think of the pain he’d endured when he’d broken both his leg and arm at the same time. He’d been pretty much worthless for months after that, and Mardon never wanted to feel worthless again.

He liked the feel of the wind against his face and hoped it would blow away his desire for Emmaline. He needed to get away from her and clear his head. If climbing the rigging was the only way to get peace of mind, then he’d do it.

“Mardon?” Aaron hung over the side of the basket and chuckled. The basket swung back and forth atop the mast, and Mardon’s fingers tightened on the lines. “What the hell are you doing, Brother? Trying to break your neck this time?” He laughed again. “We all know how clumsy you are when it comes to climbing . . . or should I just say to hanging on?”

“Shut your mouth and make room for me in the bloody basket.”

Aaron reached down and pulled Mardon into the lookout basket with him. Mardon gripped on to the sides and released a deep breath. Now that he was off the lines, he was fine. It was just being on the rigging that made him anxious.

“You’re not going to be sick, are you?” asked Aaron. “Because if you are, puke over the side and don’t mess up my basket. This is where I sleep now, remember.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?” Mardon growled, looking out to sea.

“There’s a French ship heading this way. I say we board it.”

“Nay. It’s not the right time,” protested Mardon.

“Well, I think it is. And now that I’m quartermaster, I believe I have the final say.”

“I’m still captain, and you need to listen to me, Aaron. I have more experience in these kinds of things.”

“If you’re not going to give me the chance to prove myself, then why the hell did you make me quartermaster to begin with?” Aaron put one leg over the side of basket, preparing to leave.

“Wait.” Mardon reached out and grabbed his arm.