Savannah Heat (11 page)

So Trask had money. No wonder her father called him friend
. “A house doesn’t make a home, Jordy, no matter how fancy it is. You’ve got more people on board this ship who care about you than I’ve ever had.”

Jordy chewed on that for a while. “Your father’s payin’ a heap of gold to get you back. That must mean he cares.”

Silver felt an unwelcome burning behind her eyes.
If only that were so
. “You wouldn’t understand, Jordy. Cookie and the major, they watch out for you because they want to see you happy.”

“I’m almost grown up,” Jordy said, setting his jaw in a way she hadn’t seen. “They won’t be around to look out for me much longer. I gotta find a way to take care a myself.”

Silver reached for his hand. “I know exactly what you mean.” She felt the calluses in his palm. Then he drew away.

“A woman shouldn’t have to take care of herself,” he said, looking suddenly older. “Maybe if you had someone to watch after you, you wouldn’t have to go ’round acting like a man.”

“Belay that, sailor,” Jeremy Flagg said, interrupting them, for which Silver was grateful. “Cookie needs your help in the galley.”

“Aye, Mr. Flagg.” With a last glance at Silver, he turned and walked away.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. Jordy don’t mean no harm; he’s just young, is all.”

Silver just nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Flagg.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I believe I’ll go below.”

She did for a while, spent some time reading, trying in vain to occupy her thoughts. When all her efforts failed and the cabin grew warm with the afternoon sun, she returned to the deck.

She hadn’t been there long when the lookout spotted a ship off the starboard bow. She was a sleek white schooner about the same size as the
Savannah
. The winds had died down, and the seas were calm, barely moving the two ships through the water. Apparently it was someone Trask knew because when the
Rival
drew near, both ships lowered their sails and hove to alongside each other.

Silver watched the sailors aboard each ship swing long metal grappling hooks over the rails, drop woven hemp bumpers, then begin to pull the two boats side by side. It seemed the major intended to board the
Rival
.

Silver enjoyed the ship’s sleek lines, watched the men aboard her scurrying to do their captain’s bidding. She was a neat, well-kept ship much like the
Savannah
. Only she was headed in the opposite direction.

Silver’s heart leaped hard inside her chest. The
Rival
was sailing west, back toward America. If she could find some way to board her, stow away without anyone knowing, she might be saved yet.

“You even think about trying to go aboard,” Trask warned, walking up beside her, “and I’ll lock you in my cabin until she’s gone.”

Silver subdued a guilty flush “I’m not a fool, Major Trask. It’s obvious you would spot me the moment I stepped over the rail.”

“There’s always the water,” he said sarcastically.

“Maybe if it were dark, but I doubt I could make it in broad daylight.”

Trask eyed her warily. “You’ll do well to remember that. I’m not in the mood for a swim.”

He strode away, and Silver released a sigh of resignation. Even if she got around to the opposite side without being spotted, she probably couldn’t find a way to climb aboard. As Silver stood watching, Morgan stepped over the starboard rail and briskly climbed the last few steps of the stiff rope ladder that hung from the side of the
Rival
. Apparently carrying less cargo than the heavily laden
Savannah
, the other ship rode higher in the water.

Damn, if there were only some way to sneak aboard! Silver glanced to the rail. Both Demming and Riley stood beside it, standing guard, it seemed. A pelican screeched overhead, and Silver looked up. The tall twin masts of the
Savannah
swayed gently back and forth. A few feet away, the
Rival
’s masts also dipped and swayed, occasionally brushing near those of the other ship.

Silver’s eyes went wide with a sudden shot of hope. Maybe there was a way! With only a moment’s hesitation she turned and raced below. In her tiny steward’s cabin she found Jordy’s threadbare breeches and shirt—the first ones he had lent her—washed, dried, and ready to wear again, and she quickly put them on. In Trask’s quarters she rummaged through a trunk and found a small-billed seaman’s cap and stuffed her long hair up under it and out of the way. She belted her shirt around the waist with a piece of line, then glanced at herself in the broken mirror. She could barely see her face beneath the brim of the cap, and though she couldn’t view the rest of her clothing, she figured as busy as the crewmen were she could probably pass among them without being noticed.

Once on deck, Silver skirted the starboard rail,
where Demming and Riley stood watch, and headed larboard instead. The horizontal rope rungs of the tarred hemp ratline would carry her aloft to the forward yardarm, the huge crossbeam that projected out past the sides of the ship. Other sailors worked below and elsewhere in the rigging, so as she started climbing, no one paid her any notice.

Thank God the breeze was light, she thought as she climbed farther and farther aloft. She hated high places almost as much as she hated rats. In a stiff wind the dip and sway, more pronounced with each nervous step upward, would be enough to terrify even the stoutest heart.

Though Silver took her time and moved cautiously, one bare foot slipped out of the rungs, and only her death grip on the stays kept her from falling. The stiff tarred hemp bit into her tender skin, and the roll of the ship made her dizzy.

Don’t look down
, she told herself firmly, forcing one slender foot in front of the other, ignoring the vessel below, which had begun to look more like a toy ship in a bottle than the 145-foot schooner it was. On board the
Rival
nothing seemed amiss. Sailors worked picking oakum, scrubbing the decks, or mending sail. Then she saw Morgan Trask emerging from belowdecks, a stout man’s arm across his shoulders.

Keep him talking
, she silently prayed, finally reaching the massive spruce foremast just below the topsail. Above her, the widely protruding yardarm swayed with the roll of the ship, and the rigging clanked in the freshening breeze. Silver wrapped both legs around the heavy beam, locked her arms as well, and began to shimmy carefully toward the end that yawned over the water. It seemed hours before
she reached the midway point, though in truth it took only minutes.

With no time to spare, she took a deep, steadying breath and continued, inch by inch, to move along. Near the end of the yardarm she waited. The
Rival’s
foremast reached into the sky almost parallel with the
Savannah’s
, though it rose just a wee bit higher. The yardarm angled a foot or so off to her right. When the sea rolled beneath them, the yardarm dipped and leaned and came within inches of Silver’s grasp.

She didn’t reach for it.

Her hands were slick with perspiration, and her body had begun to tremble. If she missed, certain death awaited sixty feet below. Silver wiped her hands on Jordy’s canvas breeches, closed her eyes, and took a last deep breath. She opened them to see Morgan Trask climbing back aboard the
Savannah
, the grappling lines being cast off It was now or never.

“Where’s Silver?” Morgan asked Riley the moment he reached the deck of the
Savannah
.

“She went below,” Riley said

“Cap’n Trask!” Jordy raced toward him, his hazel eyes wide with fear. “It’s Miss Jones!” When he reached Morgan’s side, he shaded his vision from the sun and pointed up into the rigging. “I think she’s up there, trying to cross over to the other ship.”

As he looked up at the tiny figure clinging tenaciously to the yardarm, Morgan’s stomach clenched so hard he felt as though someone had kicked him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was Silver.

“I saw this fella up in the rigging,” Jordy was saying. “There was somethin’ funny about the way he moved.”

“Good God,” Hamilton Riley said, following their upward glance, “what should we do?”

“You gotta get her down, Cap’n,” Jordy pleaded.

“There isn’t time,” Morgan said. And there wasn’t. Calling out to her would only distract her, adding to her peril. There was nothing Morgan could do but stand by helplessly and watch. His chest felt leaden, and his stomach balled even tighter. The next few seconds would determine whether Silver Jones lived or died.

Now or never
, she repeated. When the yardarm swayed again, tilting just within her reach, Silver set her jaw and reached for it, praying her grip would hold. She felt the sturdy wooden bar beneath her fingers, tightened her grip, and pulled herself over, letting the roll of the ship carry her across the gap between the two vessels.

Heart pounding so hard she could hear it, she locked her legs around the yardarm and held on for all she was worth. The ship rolled to starboard, and Silver’s grasp held.
I made it! God in heaven, I made it!

Fighting to slow her heartbeat, shaking all over, Silver inched along the yardarm. There were only seconds to spare before the crew of the
Rival
would be climbing into the rigging to unfurl the sails and speed their departure. She needed to descend the ratline and blend in unnoticed. Then she’d find someplace to hide.

She could hardly believe she’d made it this far.
Please God
, she prayed,
you’ve got to set me free
.

Morgan didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he released a sigh of relief. Silver was still in danger, but the crucial moment had passed. Besides, he silently swore, if she didn’t fall and break her neck, he was going to strangle her himself!

“Signal the
Rival
to come about and heave to,” Morgan commanded. “Then lower a shore boat.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Wilson Demming turned to one of the crew, gave the order, and waited as colored flags were unfurled and the signal flashed across the water.

By now every man on the ship had his eyes fastened on the tiny figure descending the ratline of the rapidly departing
Rival
. There wasn’t a sailor aboard who hadn’t heard by now who it was and exactly how she got there. And there wasn’t one who didn’t admire her courage, even if he figured she must be at least half crazy.

“Get Benson and Gordon on the oars,” Morgan said to Jeremy Flagg, striding toward the starboard rail as the shore boat descended and splashed into
the sea. He climbed the rail along with the others, descended the rope ladder, and they set off in the shore boat to bridge the distance between the two ships. By the time Morgan reached the
Rival
, he was in such a blinding rage he could barely speak.

“What’s the problem?” Call McWhorter asked as Morgan climbed over the rail. The big sea captain stood a little shorter than Trask, with a stocky build and curly brown hair. He was keen-eyed and jovial, a man well liked among his men. Morgan had known him for years. There wasn’t a finer man to sail the seas.

“You’ve got something of mine,” Morgan said, though he could barely grind out the words with his jaw clamped tight.

“How’s that?”

“She climbed across the yardarm.”

“She?” he repeated, incredulous.

Morgan just grunted.

“Where is she?” Call pressed.

“Got to be here someplace, probably down in the hold.”
And I hope the damned thing’s full of rats!
he added to himself.

“I’ll have my men comb the ship.”

In minutes a surprisingly docile Salena was escorted up on deck by three brawny sailors. Morgan recognized her bitter expression as one of resignation. She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted him standing next to the captain.

“How did you—what have I done to make you hate me so much?”

“What have you done?” he repeated. “What haven’t you done?”

Silver turned to McWhorter, her big brown eyes huge and pleading. “Captain, I beg of you. This man
has kidnapped me. He is holding me against my will. I beseech you to help me.”

McWhorter chuckled, a heavy rumble in his chest. His eyes roamed over Silver’s snug-fitting breeches, moved to the piece of frayed line that marked her tiny waist, then upward to the swell of her breast, barely concealed by the looseness of the tattered homespun shirt.

“I might believe you, gal, if it were any man but this one. He likes his ladies sweet and gentle. You’re hardly his cup o’ tea.” He chuckled again. “Course, that ripe little body o’ yours’d suit just about any man well enough.”

“I’m returning her to her father,” Morgan explained. “As soon as we reach Katonga, I’ll be rid of the willful little baggage once and for all.” He grabbed Silver’s arm and jerked her so hard her hat flew off. Wild pale blond hair tumbled loose around her shoulders, and the captain’s brow shot up.

“Don’t say it,” Morgan warned, knowing his friend was about to suggest he broaden his appetites in this young woman’s case. “Besides, you don’t know her like I do. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”