Within A Captain's Hold. Lisa A. Olech

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СКАЧАТЬ orders to lower the last of the sails before the force of the storm could snap the masts, Jaxon turned just in time to catch a loose bunk line across his face. The heavy rope flayed him like a flogger’s whip, opening a gash over his left eyebrow and knocking him to his knees. He fought to remain conscious. A wave breaking over the deck threatened to wash him out into the churning waters. Blood flowed hot and blinding into his eye as he battled his way back to retake the helm.

      Jaxon held tight to the ship’s thick oak wheel. The Scarlet Night thrashed its way through rising seas, with winds near sixty knots. After several grueling hours, his quartermaster, Gavin Quinn, came up behind him and grabbed at the pegs of the wheel.

      He shouted against the howling winds. “Got it, Capt’n.”

      The muscles in Jaxon’s arms screamed from abuse as he gave over control of the bucking ship. He pointed off the port bow as the bowsprit rose and fell into deep troughs.

      “Keep her nosing south,” he bellowed into the gale. “Let’s try to skirt this blow.”

      “Aye, aye.” Quinn jerked his head toward the ladder. “Get below, sir. Let Cookie close that wound.”

      Jaxon reached up to the knot above his eyebrow. Past the sting of pain, the dull throb barely registered against the whip of wind-driven rain and seawater.

      “It’s nothing.”

      “You’re still bleeding, Capt’n. Best stop the flow. Ye got us through the worst. I can take it for now.”

      He slapped Quinn on the back and shouted into his ear. “I won’t be long.” Cookie could stitch a cut faster than a whore could snatch a coin from a randy mark. Quinn would fare well for a time.

      Gripping the rigging, Jaxon swung down into the galley way without touching a single worn step. He found Cookie heading aft in a rush with a lantern swinging in his hand.

      “What’s the hurry, man? Are we taking on water?”

      “No, Capt’n. Been up to the forward hold to see if the ballast be tight. Can’t have a cask running loose in these seas. Door’s jammed. Lookin’ for a might more muscle.”

      “I’ll do. Let’s see to it, and then you can fetch your needle and sew my brow back together.”

      “Right, good deal.”

      Once in front of the door Jaxon gave it hearty shove. The entrance to the hold pushed open a few inches.

      Jaxon motioned to Cookie. “Drop that light and come here. Put your back into it. On three.”

      Cookie fit behind him while Jaxon started the count. “One, two, three.” Both men threw themselves against the stubborn door shoving it aside. Cookie retrieved the lantern and hung it on a chained hook. The weak flame swung wildly in its holder casting a dizzying sweep of shifting light across the room. Behind the door, Jaxon found a strange pile of ropes, spare canvas, hogs heads of ale, and boxes of nails. How the hell did all this get trapped against the door?

      Jaxon caught a whiff of something rotten. “What is that foul smell?”

      Cookie didn’t answer. He scurried off to check on the huge barrels filled with fresh water they used to keep the ship stable.

      Moving farther into the hold, Jaxon tripped over a heap of dark sodden wool. He pushed at the mess with his boot. Crouching, he moved aside some of the cloth and exposed a bloody leg. A deep cut opened the flesh four to five inches down the side of their calf. “Cookie, get over here.”

      Jaxon rolled the body over and pushed what he now recognized as a cloak away from the figure’s face. Shock was quickly replaced with rage. “Bloody hell and back.”

      Behind him, Cookie swore under his breath. “The devil ’imself must be dancin’ on our decks tonight. ’Tis a woman.”

      CHAPTER 2

      Jaxon stared at the soiled pile of stinking wool. “Blast. What in hell is a woman doing on my ship?” Her skin glowed near white in the sway of the light. “Is she dead?” Cookie knelt and checked her neck for a pulse. Jaxon waited, hoping. “Tell me she’s dead.”

      Cookie scratching at his ratty head cloth. “Nay, but she’s knocked out cold as a haddock, and that’s a nasty gash she’s got on her leg.”

      “She’s covered with blood and vomit.”

      Cookie bobbed his head in agreement. “’N soaked in bilge water.”

      “Good Lord, she smells like the arse end of a London sewer rat.”

      “Ye thought I smelled bad.” Cookie cackled.

      “You do smell bad.” Jaxon stood up. Now that he was out of the numbing reach of the storm’s wind, the knot over his eye throbbed. He needed a stiff belt of brandy to ease some of the pain, and he needed to get this blasted woman out of his hold.

      “That leg’s gotta be tended. How’d ye suppose she got here?”

      “I don’t bloody know. Help me carry her back to my cabin.”

      Jaxon grasped the fetid woman under each arm, and Cookie lifted from her feet. They carried her to the door. Cookie set down his end long enough to extinguish the lantern and check the passageway. The ship still rode the storm like a drunken man on a three-legged horse. Wrestling an unconscious woman between them left them both breathless by the time they reached the safety of Jaxon’s quarters.

      “Set her here on the floor.” Jaxon used his knife and began to cut her reeking garment away while Cookie flushed and bound her wound.

      How the hell had a woman gotten on his ship? Beneath, she wore rough brown wool skirts. “She’s a serving wench.” Who could have brought her aboard? Hell, half the crew tossed serving wenches every chance they got, but none of them would be stupid enough to defy the rules. Dammit, why couldn’t she be dead? They could just toss her over the rail and be done.

      Pulling the mobcap from her head, a wealth of coppery hair spilled out. “Blast my eyes.”

      Next to him, Cookie “oofed” like he’d been punched in the gut. “Saint’s blood. A woman and a ginger. She couldn’t be more bad luck to ye, Capt’n, if she had a dead albatross hangin’ ’round her neck.”

      Jaxon stood and crushed the woman’s cap in a tight fist. “No one can know we found her. I want to hear about anyone who goes anywhere near that hold.”

      “Aye, aye, Capt’n.” Cookie scrubbed at his chin. “What’ll we do with her?”

      “I don’t bloody know.” Jaxon pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. The smell of her curled his lip. “Help me get rid of her clothes.”

      “Now, Capt’n, I may be a crusty ole bugger, but I ain’t gonna stand by and watch ye--”

      “Hold your tongue or I’ll rip it from you, myself. Do you think I’m standing here in the middle of a damn storm thinking to violate some unconscious chit? Are you daft, man? Her clothes are past saving. We’re tossing them out the window, along with the stench.” He glared СКАЧАТЬ