ship round the headlands and draw up at the cove’s mouth. Sails aback, waves breaking high over her forecastle, the ship’s bow rose and fell at a sickening rate. She sat with her guns presented to the pirate ships that flanked her, but distance pulled the teeth of her threat.
Towering triple masts, brilliant in her regal blue, gilded fretwork gleaming, the vessel bore a presence, as if accustomed—nay, expecting ships to shy in her presence. The Union Jack in prominent display at her backstay, a number of other banners and pennants stood out in the stiff breeze. One was glaringly plain and white: the flag of truce.
“Well, well, well,” Nathan declared, peering through the spyglass. “Dash me buttons and rip me jib. His Pompousness has blessed us with his presence.”
“Commodore Harte is aboard,” Pryce explained over Cate’s shoulder. “’Tis his flag there, the blue with the star.”
“A status achieved only through the good graces of the fair Governor of the Royal West Indies Mercantile Company, and a wholly unholy alliance it ’tis,” said Nathan, the glass still to his eye.
“The Commodore’s convinced he would have made Admiral several times over had it not been fer the Cap’n,” Pryce sniffed.
“If it hadn’t been for you?” Cate asked of Nathan.
He shrugged. “The Commodore’s hubris can be of epic proportions, betimes.”
“It’s cost ’im promotions in spite of Creswicke’s endorsements,” said Pryce
“And through no fault of yours, of course,” Cate said, looking to Nathan.
A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just a poor pirate, doing what I might in the way of making a living.”
Nathan slapped the glass closed. “She’ll lay in irons. They shan’t desire to be mucking about with anchors. Sharpshooters aloft,” he shouted over the quarterdeck break to Hodder. “Gun crews, Mr. MacQuarrie, at the ready, but don’t open the lids. Loose the t’gall’nts and stays’ls, but don’t set the braces. Let’s give them every cause to believe we’re at the ready.”
He rounded on Cate and sobered. “You’ll need to be out of sight. They may suspect you’re here, but seeing would be believing, would it not? No arguments, luv,” he went on over her protests as he steered her toward the cabin. “Rest assured they’ve spyglasses and are fixed on us as we speak. If all goes pear-shaped, I can’t be worrying about you. Now stay inside.”
His walnut eyes held hers, searching for the assurances he needed. “Please, luv, allow me to know you’re safe.”
Now at the cabin’s door, Cate nodded woodenly. He winked and strode away. The cold realization of how much her presence burdened him pricked the nape of her neck.
Deep in the cabin’s protective shadows, Prudence wrung her hands. “They’re coming, aren’t they?”
“It will be a while before they arrive, but yes, they are.”
“Is Lord Creswicke with them?”
“I think not.” Wishing to ease the girl’s anguish, Cate fingered one of the curls at her shoulder. “Your hair is very pretty.”
The sun-reddened cheeks deepened. “Thank you. I did it myself.”
“And you did a lovely job of it.”
Beaming under the praise one moment, Prudence threw her arms around Cate and clutched her tightly. “I don’t wish to go. I’m afraid.”
Cate gently pushed her back and brought the tear-streaked face up to hers. “Don’t you remember how afraid you were a few days ago? And now, look.”
Prudence had the grace to be ashamed. “Of the Captain most especially. He’s been so kind; I’m sorry I said those bad things about him.”
She brightened with the enthusiasm of an inspiration. “I’ll make it up. I’ll tell everyone how wonderful and kind he was, and—”
“No, no, not that,” Cate blurted. Nathan could forgive a lot of things, except telling everyone what a wonderful person he is.
“Then what shall I do?”
Cate bit her still-sore lip. Lady Bart’s had taught her how drastically one’s story could be misconstrued. “Just represent that you were treated well. If experience is any indication, they won’t credit anything else.”
She tried to see Prudence through the eyes of those very same people. The glossy black hair was brushed and arranged, but the long curls, achieved only through hours with an iron, were gone. The porcelain skin was bright red from sun, the rounded nose glowing. Ripped, hem hanging, and slashed across the back where Nathan had spanked her with his sword: the dress was still yellow, but streaked and soiled. Her stockings, shoes, and kertch all gone missing, through some eyes, the damage could be seen as the result of rough handling. As Nathan had forecast, the