Chapter 21
The heat in the wardroom intensified, and dread prickled along Heather’s nerves as she waited. Though her world seemed to slow to a crawl, she was certain it would be only moments before the room flooded not only with the earl’s men, but also with officers and crew.
“Fire! Get the buckets!” an officer bellowed.
Men scrambled and shouted, and Heather stealthily slipped from the room and down the nearest companionway. Heart racing, she reached the aft platform and peered into the surgeon’s room. Empty. She released a breath and darted inside.
The diversion had been a success, but now came the true challenge of ensuring that she reach the earl’s tea before it was brought to him.
In her lessons, Duncan had spoken of a new herbalist named Samuel Thomson, who lived in the Americas. The man had espoused the use of Lobelia inflata as an emetic and claimed that was a useful cure for a number of ailments. But curing ailments was not why Heather wanted it.
She searched the wall of vials and jars and, at last, discovered a small vial that fit in the palm of her hand. Its barely legible label was tied around its neck with string.
Voices boomed above her head, and she jumped. Better move.
On silent feet, she crept from the room.
The ringing of the bell reverberated through the ship, and more men shouted and stomped about.
With fear still riding her, Heather took advantage of the chaos and scrambled up two decks to the gun deck.
The shouting continued, but she had eyes for only one thing: the kettle upon the galley’s stove.
To her relief—and amazement—the crew, who had organized a system of water retrieval and bucket-passing, paid her no heed as she slunk closer.
The cook seemed intent on shutting down the oven’s fires, so with speed and focused intent, Heather lunged toward the still-steaming kettle and poured the vial’s contents down the spout.
“Where’s the Earl of Hanley’s tea?” one of the earl’s footmen asked.
Heather quickly ducked behind a cask, deliberately slowing her breath so that she wouldn’t be heard.
“Now’s not the time for tea,” the cook replied gruffly.
A crawling sensation raced up Heather’s neck and she turned her gaze sideways. And froze. Berta stood nearby, a small bucket of water in-hand, and her gaze locked on Heather’s.
Sodding hell. I’ve been caught.
“The earl has requested it,” the man continued. “And if I don’t have it—”
“Get it yourself,” the cook interjected. “Water’s already boiled, but I’ve got to shut it down.”
Berta’s gaze flicked toward the men, then back to Heather behind the cask. Berta’s lips quirked and she gave a subtle nod before striding away. The maid wouldn’t reveal the truth.
Relief swept through Heather, even while guilt shrouded her heart.
Behind her, there was a grumble and the clink of earthenware before footsteps shuffled away.
“To your stations!” someone shouted.
Heather backed away and darted up the companionway to the quarterdeck. Here was even more chaos, and for the first time, confusion marred her brow and worry crawled up her spine. Something wasn’t right. Were these men all intent on fighting the fire? Had she done more than create a diversion?
“Run out the cannons!” the captain bellowed. “Guns at the ready!”
Heather’s breath seized in her throat, and her gaze swung wildly aft. And there was Butcher at the bow of the Pandora, his light eyes wide and alight with triumph…and revenge.
With a throaty gurgle, the blighter slumped to the ground, dislodging himself from Percy’s blade. Most men had ignored his ascent through the decks, but the men who had fought ended up dead.
A wave of dizziness stole over Percy, and he took a slow breath. He was almost there. He had to stop Butcher.
Boom! Boom-boom!
His insides twisted sickeningly. The battle has begun.
With renewed vigour, he dashed up the companionway to the quarterdeck. Gunpowder filled the air, and the men’s voices carried as they shouted.
Butcher stood at the ship’s bow, his spine stiff and shoulders back as he barked orders at the crew.
“Fire!”
Crack, crack-crack, crack! Boom! Boom… Boom!
Vibrations travelled up Percy’s legs as his gaze followed the gunmen’s fire and the carronades’ balls. Some sailed over the other ship, but one crashed into the bulwark and another into the running rigging.
Men shouted and scrambled about, apparently unprepared for battle. Fuck.
Rapid footfalls came up behind Percy, and he spun, lifting his cutlass just in time to block a blow from one of Butcher’s men.
Boom-boom! Boom!
A cannonball glanced off the splintered taffrail to hit a gunner’s leg, then bounced across the deck. The man screeched.
His opponent took advantage of Percy’s distraction and lunged, but Percy turned sideways, forcing the man’s blade to scrape past his belt, rather than gut him.
He blinked past the momentary dizziness that swam in his head and gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain to his injuries. He could do this. He would do this.
Stepping back, he entered the ready position and was gratified to see the slight hesitation in the pirate’s gaze.
Crack-crack-crack-crack!
“Keep firing!” Butcher bellowed.
Boom!
The ship shook, but Percy was ready for it. With a narrow arc, his cutlass sliced through the air as he advanced, cutting shallowly into the man’s skin. His opponent bellowed and retreated, holding his chest.
The shock and fear on the pirate’s features turned swiftly into fury, and he charged.
Fuck. Percy sidestepped the man’s blow and rounded on him in one fluid motion, impaling him through his side as he ran past. With a groan and a gurgle, the man was felled to the deck.
Boom, boom!
Just as soon as that pirate was defeated, another took his place, a dirk in each hand.
“You don’t wish to fight me,” Percy called to the man over the din.
“Aye, I do. Butcher brought us glory. An’ women. An’ ’e wants ye dead.”
The man lunged.
Boom, boom-boom!
The low noise reverberated in Heather’s ears, and ripples of fear travelled up her spine. She hadn’t anticipated the battle, but she would have to make her plan work. Butcher would murder everyone on board, and she needed to find Percy and take him home to England. There must be a way.
“You,” the Earl of Hanley growled from the companionway next to her. “How dare you start that fire! I know what you’ve done, Calluna, and you shan’t get away with it. Come with me belowdecks now.”
Heather retreated a step and shook her head. “No.”
His face turned a deep shade of purple, and his mouth opened to speak, but Heather missed his words entirely when pirates from the Pandora swung from the fighting tops and ran across the wooden plank positioned between the two ships, swarming the America’s crew.
“Now, Calluna!” the earl shouted, his demeanour growing hysterical. Sweat gleamed on his brow and upper lip. “Give back what is mine, damn it!”
Boom! Boom-boom!
Movement to her left caught her notice, and she narrowly evaded a falling man.
Following Percy’s unintended lesson from all those days before, Heather crouched beside the felled man and divested him of his dirk and cutlass.
Then she approached the Earl of Shite, aiming the blade of her cutlass at his throat.
“You shall never have me,” she said, nerves and hope both twisting in her stomach. This is it. “In fact, you ought to fear me.”
His chin trembled, and the sweat began to slide down his temples. “I shall never fear you.”
“You think not?” She huffed a laugh of derision. “I do, in fact, have something of yours, Earl.”
“I knew it. You bitch!” he hissed.
“I also gave something to you.” She paused, allowing him a moment to feel her gift.
Boom-boom!
The earl’s eyes grew wide, and his skin took on a decidedly green hue. “What have you done to me?”
Heather smirked. “How are you feeling?” She paused, as horror entered his eyes. “I know every herb and plant that can kill you swiftly, or slowly and painfully, and that is undetectable through taste or scent. No one would know how you’d perished.”
“I say…” he quavered, his throat bobbing.
She stepped closer, her blade only a hair’s breadth away from the thin skin of his jaw. “Your acts of high treason will soon be known by all of England, oh Earl of Shite. And if you dare attempt to harm me or mine…you’d best not eat or drink anything ever again.”
“I always knew you were a right b—” His words were cut off as he pulled away and raced toward the bulwark to cast up his accounts into the sea.
Swift relief warmed her. That was the earl taken care of.
“Look-ee who we got ’ere.”
Boom! Boom, boom!
Heather spun to see one of the pirates who’d accosted her on the Pandora, his lips pulled back in a sneer and his eyes glazed with triumph.
“You have nothing,” she returned.
“Th’ cap’n wants ’er alive,” another pirate interjected.
Despite the swoop of nerves in her abdomen, Heather entered the ready stance that Percy had taught her.
Crack-crack! Boom!
The first pirate laughed. “She’ll still be alive when I’m done with ’er. Jus’ enough fer th’ cap’n t’ kill ’er in front o’ Percival.”
Breath caught in her throat, and her ears were suddenly flooded with the drumming of her heart. Percy. He’s alive!
Her gaze slid past the two approaching pirates to the Pandora, where she could clearly see Butcher in his Redcoat fighting some of the earl’s men. There were others fighting on the Pandora’s quarterdeck, and one man with a bandaged head and arm—
Joy warmed her chest, and she had to resist running through the battle to reach him. Instead, she raised her weapons.
“Oooh,” the first pirate taunted with a sneer. “Think ye can use men’s weapons? Yer outnumbered, wench, an’ there’s no one wot would save ye—”
She lunged, grazing his ribs with her cutlass as he leapt to the side, then spun, slicing his arm with her dirk. He bellowed and dropped his weapon, holding his arm where she’d cut him.
The second man made for an attack, but he halted abruptly, his face stunned, before he fell to the ground with a cutlass in his back.
And there stood Duncan, his beard windblown and glasses askew.
“I’m righ’ pleased t’ see ye, Heather.” He grinned, before shoving aside a fighting trio. “I need ye t’ know tha’ yer flora are in th’ hull o’ th’ Pandora, along with th’ items ye purchased. D’ ye ken?”
A sob ripped from her throat, and she rushed forward to pull the dear man into a hug. “Thank you, Duncan.”
The plan could still work. If the items they’d purchased in San Luis had made it onto the ship, they could still return home. All she needed was Percy.
Boom! Boom-boom! Crack, crack!
“O’ course, lass,” Duncan murmured.
Pulling back, she caught his warm blue gaze. “Be careful.” She squeezed his arm affectionately and darted into the chaos around them.
She wove between groups in battle, narrowly avoiding being hit by meaty fists and sharp blades. Blood splattered her breeches and boots, but she gave it little thought as she focused her attention on reaching the man she loved.