own charms.”
“I love it.” Cate anxiously felt for the pendant. It hung just below the notch of her collarbone.
“Wet it a few times to tighten the knot and it will never come off—unless you desire it, of course,” he quickly added.
“Never!” It was her first gift in years.
Cate kissed Nathan on the cheek, the impulsiveness embarrassing them both.
“Thank you, Nathan. You’re a true friend,” she said, her cheeks heating.
Nathan's smile faltered, and then faded. His reply went forgotten as he stiffened. His head came up like a hound on a scent. His hand went to his sword as he stepped before her, pushing her back against the bulwark. The space between the gun carriages was now a small fortress, Nathan poised at its entry.
Cate strained to listen, trying to fathom what it was he had heard. Nothing. Wind, water, block and canvas: only the Morganse spoke. Her humanity, however, had fallen uncommonly mum.
Pryce loomed out of the darkness. “D’ye hear it?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
Nathan nodded, his head still canted. He waved Pryce aft with his sword, a mouthful spoken in a single gesture. Pryce nodded gravely and faded away. Nathan turned for the bow, but stopped, of two minds whether to leave her there or take her with him. Decision made, he took her by the arm, a twitch of his mustache bidding her quiet.
Up to the forecastle and down, then working his way aft, Nathan cruised the deck without so much as a footfall or bell tinkle. Cate pressed her skirt against her legs, the mere rustle of the fabric seeming to shatter the stillness. The people they passed hooded their eyes, fixing their attention on whatever they were doing. They had heard it too—whatever had been—and made every effort to appear otherwise.
Aft of the capstan, they met up with Pryce. Hodder was now with him, a bludgeon in his fist, his multitude of rings as silent as Nathan’s bells. Nathan angled his head ever so slightly in question, the pair’s almost imperceptible shake of the head his answer.
Nothing.
Cate ventured to whisper to Nathan, “What was it?”
The corner of his eye drew down at her ignorance.
“Round shot.” Spoken so lowly, it was more a matter of reading his lips than hearing.
She did recall hearing the hollow rumble of a cannonball rolling.
“’Tis the message of conspiracy,” Nathan added.
“The goddamned, yellow, lurking, lump o’ roguery. A scug of a beast o’ the two-legged, back-biting kind what doesn’t have the balls to show his face.” The starlight caught the hatred that glittered in Pryce’s eyes.
“’Tis meant either as warning or announcement that something’s afoot,” Nathan said with considerable more reserve.
“Something?”
Her puzzlement brought a sharp look from the corner of his eye. Of course, how could she be so dense?
Mutiny.
The shot garlands lining the bulwark between the guns were always full, ready to hand for battle, but also for someone who, under the cover of darkness, wished to set one on its way. The air on her arms raised and her neck prickled. The so very familiar deck suddenly became a forbidding jungle. Shadows she could have earlier named were now possible lairs for predators, every creak impending assault.
“You’ve a knife?” Nathan asked.
Cate nodded, touching the side of her skirt.
“Good. Go find your best,” he said to Pryce and Hodder. “Arm and post them. You’ll find me in me cabin.”
The tone of his voice suggested he wouldn’t be lounging about reading, nor playing draughts.
The three exchanged significant looks. None of this had come as unexpected. Pryce and Hodder sketched a salute and set off. Nathan guided her inside.
“Sleep well,” he said urging her around the curtain and to her bed. “’Tis naught to be worried about.”
It was worth noting his pistol was still in hand. Another, seized from its hiding place inside the urn at the door, was now stuffed in his belt.
Cate stood staring at the curtain, once again in stunned wonderment of Nathan’s ability to understate.
Sleep came…finally, in fitful bursts. Cate jerked awake at every creak of a block or plank, slap of a wave, or heavy tread. Daylight came at last by way of the port overhead distinguishing itself from the bulkhead. Its square of light on the floor progressed from a thin grey to lavender, to pink, to coral, and then finally the glow of full day.
Gray and grave, Pryce and Hodder gave their Captain their morning reports while she and Nathan were at the table. Nothing notable. Nothing remarkable. Nothing to portend. The round shot,