Call of the Sea (7 page)

His mind spun. Ellie gone? Two full weeks? But where? She was little more than a child, an impish fluff of wild red curls and gangly legs.
That was five years ago.
His steps faltered. Could she really be fifteen now?

Captain Winters wove through the bustling streets of Newquay in brooding silence with a panting Daniel hard on his heels. It wasn’t until they’d left the town behind and the two climbed the hill leading to the bluffs that the captain slowed his steps, allowing Daniel to catch up. “Was she really that unhappy?” he asked.

Daniel wasn’t sure if he’d meant to speak out loud. “Pardon, Captain?”

Captain Winters cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

As much as Daniel ached to put his mentor at ease, he knew how miserable Ellie had been the last time he’d seen her. How much she’d wanted to stay in Newquay, or rather, how much she wanted to be at sea with her father. Daniel cast a quick glance at the captain. He had to know how much she wanted that.

Maybe that’s what the note says.

The parchment felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He swore he could hear it crinkling with each step he took.

When they reached the house, Captain Winters turned to Daniel, worry lines gouged into his forehead. “I’ll need some time alone with Amelia. Get some rest and come by in the morning for breakfast. We sail again on the morrow.”

Daniel nodded. “Aye, Captain.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets. Fingers curled around the note. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll find her.”

The specter of a smile haunted Captain Winters’ weary face. “I hope so, lad.” He pushed open the door and disappeared into the cottage.

With a sigh, Daniel made his way across the dunes to the storage shed. The rickety door gave way with a loud creak. The familiar scent of fresh hay reached his nose. Mrs. Winters must have changed out the bedding while they were away. He lit the lamp on the shelf by the entrance and carried it to the small table in the center of the room. He reached into his pocket for the crumpled note and plopped down onto a wobbly stool.

For a few long moments, he just started at the crumbled ball of parchment nestled in his palm. He straightened in his seat and unfolded the page.

Dearest Papa,

I know you must be sorely disappointed in me right now, and I’m afraid I have no words to change your mind. Despite my best efforts, I cannot be the daughter you wanted me to be. There is so much more to life than husbands and babies. I want so much more—yearn for it.

I can’t sit here with mother another day, pining away and waiting for you to return. The sea hovers outside my bedroom window and beckons, day after day.

It’s time for me to answer the call and build a future I can live with. Hopefully, I’ll find berth on a ship in town and be at sea long before you return home to find this.

Please don’t come after me. You won’t change my mind.

I love you, Papa. I’m sorry.

Ellie

Daniel’s brow furrowed. What ship would have a female crewmember, especially one of Ellie’s young age? He thought about the crew of
The Siren’s Call
. How they lived when at sea. Certainly not the sort of place or people an impressionable young girl should be around. Daniel folded the note and pushed it back into his pocket. Thoughts of Ellie at the mercy of a band of dirty thugs sprang unbidden to his mind. Groaning, he pushed up from the table.

He rolled the knot from his shoulders, doused the lamp, and fumbled across the dark space toward his bed. After his years of service to Captain Winters, Daniel was sure of one thing: The captain wouldn’t give up searching for his wayward daughter until she was back where he felt she belonged.

Whether Ellie likes it or not.

Chapter Eight

As had become routine since they’d left England over three months before, Ellie’s day started with a lesson in swordplay from Nelson. After which, she reported to Sven in the galley. Once breakfast was over and she’d finished scrubbing the dishes, she’d head for the quarterdeck and Captain Harris. The next hour would consist of doing his housekeeping, errands, and laundry—followed by the worst part of her new life at sea: polishing his putrid-smelling boots. Ellie shuddered at the thought.

Truth be told, smelly boots were a small price to pay for getting a chance to follow her dreams. Sailing was everything she’d imagined it would be. Being at sea aboard a real ship as part of a hard working crew—what more could she ask for?

For my father to accept me for who I am.

Ellie’s steps hitched as the words rattled through her skull. A tight fist closed around her heart. She pushed the intrusive thought to the darkest corner of her mind and stiffened her shoulders.

He never would’ve taken me.

“A ship to starboard, Captain! She’s hull-down.” Nelson’s voice rang out from the crow’s nest.

Ellie jolted upright. She scanned the horizon along the starboard side of the ship looking for the swath of white marking a ship’s sails.

Captain Harris barreled through the bulkhead hatch onto the quarterdeck, spyglass in hand. He elbowed Ellie out of his way and lifted the instrument to his eye.

Rubbing her bruised shoulder, Ellie’s gaze followed the path of the glass as it swept along the horizon.

“She’s heading straight for us.” The captain squinted out at the growing mass of canvas, checked the spyglass again. “Hard to get a bead on ’er sails.” He turned to Ellie. “Get yer arse to Nelson at the cannons, lad. Better prepared than dead.”

By the time Ellie reached the mainmast, Nelson had already scaled down the rigging and waited for her at its base. “Looks like a Dutch fluyt.” He pulled a flintlock from his belt and began loading it. “If it is, Harris will attack. He won’t be able to stop himself. They carry too much cargo for him to let her pass unaccosted, regardless of any peace treaties.” Nelson halfcocked the pistol and stuffed it into his belt. “I think we may be in for a tussle.”

Ellie’s heartbeat quickened.
If we attack the ship, we become pirates.
Her shoulders deflated.

She followed Nelson down a deck to where the cannons stood in two long rows extending the length of the ship, five on each side.

“All right, you’re going to be my powder monkey, El. Head to the munitions stores and arm yourself, then bring me as many powder bags as you can muster. If she is a fluyt, we should have her outmanned and outgunned. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll surrender without a fight.”

Hope bloomed in her chest.
Perhaps I won’t end up a pirate after all.

Captain Harris’s voice echoed from the deck above. “All ’ands to stations! Load the cannons!”

Nelson repeated the order for the men at the guns.

Or maybe I will.

The hair on Ellie’s arms stood up as the possibility struck home. Her father’s disapproving face floated to the front of her mind. She gave herself a mental shake. There was no time to worry about her father’s opinions.

Intent on her assigned task, Ellie headed for the munitions room and knelt at her footlocker. The hinges squeaked as she lifted the curved lid. With shaking hands, she strapped on her belt and grabbed her cutlass. Ellie sheathed the blade and checked her left boot for the hidden dagger. Patting the handle, she rose and headed for the munitions stores.

Muffled shouting and running footsteps from above sent a shudder of fear through her limbs. She grabbed a powder bag, grunting. The satchel was heavier than she expected. Ellie slung another sack over her shoulder. Leaning forward against the weight pulling her, she worked her way back to the cannons.

She brought the heavy bags to Nelson, panting with exertion.

He took the sacks and set them beside one of the guns. “Good, now go get some more and hope we don’t have to use them.”

Ellie nodded and headed back for more bags.

By the time she returned to Nelson,
The Surf Runner
had closed the distance between the vessels and was bearing down on the Dutch ship.

“Prepare to come alongside ’er!” Captain Harris shouted.

Men jumped to action. No part of the ship lay idle as the crew scrambled into position, two per cannon. One man set the powder while the other loaded the lead ball and shoved it home with a ram.

Ellie backed away, eyes wide and heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.
This can’t be happening.

Nelson spun to face her. He pointed to the stairway that led further below. “Get your arse down there until I call for you.”

Ellie quickly did as she was told. She hunkered down on the second step, eyes glued to Nelson.

He walked the length of cannons, checking with the men to ensure they were all loaded and ready.

The captain’s command to fire echoed through Ellie.

Nelson raised his arm, cast a quick glance her way, and shrugged. “Fire!” He swung his arm down as he repeated the captain’s command.

The row of five guns erupted in a succession of shuddering booms. Smoke puffed from the cannons’ mouths as they jerked back beneath the force of the shots. The sounds of splintering wood told them they’d hit their mark.

Screams of pain mingled with shouted orders.

A return call of “Fire!” echoed across the water.

A second volley of guns rent the air.
The Surf Runner
trembled as enemy cannonballs blistered its hull.

The impact vibrated the stairs Ellie perched on, making the hair at the back of her neck stand up. She bent and flexed her fingers to expel some of the nervous energy surging through her body.

Nelson drew his sword and ran toward her. When he reached the stairs where she hunkered, he turned away, climbed the steps two at a time, and rushed out on deck.

Ellie scrambled up the treads after him, stopping short of bursting through the gangway into the growing fray.

Grapples tangled in the rigging. Musket and blunderbuss shots sang through the air in both directions. Shouting men swung across the space between the vessels. The sound of steel on steel rang out.

Awestruck, Ellie watched as a Dutchman rushed Nelson, sword raised. With a calm deliberateness, Nelson pulled the flintlock from his belt, cocked it, and fired.

The sailor’s eyes widened as his chest exploded with crimson. He staggered backward two steps and dropped to the planking.

Sword at the ready, Nelson twisted and faced another.

The man swung his blade, but Nelson was ready for it. He deftly sidestepped and slashed back, nicking the Dutchman’s waist.

The two men circled each other, panting. Each sought an opening in the other’s defenses.

Ellie held her breath, wide eyes locked on her only friend.

In a surge of motion, Nelson lunged at his adversary, driving his sword deep into the man’s stomach. Gurgling noises rushed past the man’s lips as his sword fell to the deck with a clang.

When Nelson pulled his sword free from the dying man, Ellie saw a second Dutchman approach. He raised his pistol, taking aim at Nelson’s back.

“Nelson! Look out,” she shouted.

The gun fired.

The shot pierced Nelson’s shoulder, spinning him around to face Ellie. His brown eyes widened as he clutched a hand to the cherry-red stain growing on the front of his shirt. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, the shooter drew his sword and swiped at him.

Grunting, Nelson raised his sword, barely blocking the blow.

A red haze surrounded Ellie as a cry of rage ripped past her lips. Drawing her cutlass, she scrambled up the steps toward Nelson. Ellie slashed wildly at any who stepped in her path, cutting a desperate swathe through the enemy.

Step. Duck, swipe.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Nelson dropped to his knees. Blood ran down his arm from the gaping wound in his shoulder, shirt soaked with his lifeblood.

“No!” Ellie’s stomach twisted into a knot when his head sagged forward.

Dodge, spin, stab.

The Dutchman turned as Ellie rushed at him. He raised his sword to fend off the crushing intent of her blow, spun, and swiped his blade at her knees.

She lunged left. With a twist, she came around, her cutlass aimed at the man’s chest.

Metal clashed, the Dutchman blocking the blow. His chest heaved and sweat dotted his wide brow.

Breath coming in short gasps, ears humming with rage, Ellie sidestepped right and advanced again.

Slash.

Her blade cleaved flesh. A satisfied smile bowed her lips. Taking advantage of her good fortune, Ellie spun around, sword at her shoulders. She swung her arm outward, pivoting on her toe. The blade sang through the air, cutting the man open across the throat.

His steps faltered and a shadow slipped across his features. He opened pale lips, tried to speak, but only gurgled. The man’s eyes bulged as blood sprayed from the opening in his neck and he shrank to a lifeless heap at her feet.

Ellie swung about, sword at the ready. Perspiration soaked her temples and each deep gasp for air strained the tight bindings wound around her chest. It took her a moment to realize the fighting around her had ceased.

The bloodied bodies of friend and foe littered the blood-slicked decking. Gorgon, massive as always, stood guard over a handful of captured Dutchmen near the mainmast. Captain Harris ordered the boarding planks put out.

Ellie sheathed her weapon, rushed to Nelson’s side and dropped to her knees. Pain contorted his face as she helped him sit up. She grabbed his bloodied, tattered shirt in both hands and pulled, tearing it in two at the neck. She inspected the ragged hole in his shoulder, then the wider one on his chest.

The shot had gone clean through.

A sigh of relief slipped past her lips. “You’re going to be okay, Nelson, I promise.” She pressed the wad of torn fabric against both seeping holes. “I’m so sorry.”

Nelson grunted as she pushed at the edge of the bloody hole with the front half of his ruined shirt. “What the hell are you sorry for?”