The Lost Gentleman. Margaret McPhee

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СКАЧАТЬ I mean...we are quite safe from them...are we not?’

      ‘Oh, rest assured we are safe.’ He smiled at her, the small cool dangerous smile. ‘But Coyote is not.’

      She felt the cold wind of fear blow through her bones. ‘What do you mean, sir?’ She worked hard to appear cool, calm and collected.

      He glanced pointedly at Raven’s sails. Her gaze followed his and she saw to her horror that they were reducing the sail. Raven’s speed was already dropping.

      Her heart missed a beat. Her stomach dropped to meet her shoes.

      ‘You intend to let them catch us!’ She stared at him, feeling the horror of what that meant snake through her.

      ‘Not entirely. Just to let them get within range of our guns.’

      ‘Why?’ she whispered.

      ‘Raven is fast, but not fast enough that Coyote will not fathom our direction to Antigua. Better a confrontation out here under our terms than risk her stealing upon us at anchor in the night.’

      ‘She would not...’ Antigua was a British naval base, filled with warships that Coyote normally avoided. But given the situation she was not sure that North was not right.

      ‘Not when we have finished, she will not,’ he said grimly.

      She felt the blood drain from her face. When she looked again at the distant horizon Coyote was already a little larger. She kept her gaze on her ship rather than look at him, so that he would not see the truth in her eyes.

      It took all of her willpower to stand there beside him, watching her men creep slowly closer to their doom, and betray nothing of the feelings of dread and fear, impotence and anger that were pounding through her blood. Instinctively, her hands went to her skirt, reaching for the weapons that were not there. Instead, she forced them to relax by her sides.

      Glancing across at North’s profile, she saw that he watched Coyote with cool, relaxed stillness. Only his dark hair rippled in the wind.

      ‘What is the range of your guns?’ she asked, her heart beating fast with the hope that she had overestimated Raven’s range of fire.

      ‘Our eighteen pounders have an effective penetrating range of five hundred and fifty yards,’ he answered without looking round.

      Far greater than the two hundred and eighty yards that Coyote’s six-pounders could manage. She felt sick. Her mind was thrashing, seeking any possible way to stop the impending slaughter. But short of putting a gun to North’s head... Her gaze dropped to the large scabbard that hung against his leg, and the leather holster above it...with the pistol cradled within. It was a much larger weapon than her own, but she could manage it all the same...if it was loaded. She glanced up to find his gaze was no longer on Coyote, but on her.

      ‘I hope that pistol is loaded,’ she said.

      He smiled as if he knew it for the question it was. ‘Always. But it will not make any difference to Coyote’s fate. Bigger guns are already aimed and waiting.’

      She swallowed, her mouth dry as ash, her heart thudding hard as a horse at full gallop. Coyote would see the guns, but she would not realise their size, or the special powder, or their range. She would not know what she was sailing into before it was too late.

      Raven was barely moving now, making the distance between the two ships diminish fast. Too fast. Even with the naked eye, no one aboard Raven could doubt that the identity of the closing ship was anything but Coyote. Every second brought her closer.

      Kate’s fingers found her wedding band again. Oh, God, please stop them. But Coyote kept on coming.

      ‘Eight hundred yards!’ came a shout from the rigging.

      She bit her lip, trying to stop herself from crying out. Stood there still and silent as a statue while her mind sought and tunnelled and tried to find a way out for them all.

      ‘Seven hundred yards!’

      She thought of Sunny Jim. She thought of young John Rishley. And the rest. All of them men from Tallaholm. Men with wives and children, with mothers and fathers, and brothers and sisters. Men who would lose their lives trying to rescue her.

      ‘You can’t just kill them!’ The words burst from her mouth.

      ‘Why not?’ He turned to look at her, his calmness in such contrast to the rushing fury and fear in her heart.

      ‘For the sake of humanity and Christian charity.’

      ‘You care for the lives of the men who abducted you?’

      ‘Some of them are barely more than boys, for pity’s sake. Have mercy.’

      ‘Your compassion is remarkable, Mrs Medhurst.’

      ‘Reverend Dr Gunner is a priest. He will tell you the same as me, I am sure. Where is he?’ Her eyes scanned for Gunner.

      ‘He is on the gun deck,’ said North, ‘making ready to fire.’

      She could see the fifteen horizontal red-and-white stripes and the fifteen white stars against the blue canton of the American flag and the skull and smiling cutlass of her own flag.

      ‘Six hundred yards!’ the voice called, followed by another from over by the deck hatch, ‘Ready below, Captain! We fire on your command.’

      ‘Do not!’ Her hand clutched at North’s wrist. ‘If you sink them, they will all die. And no matter what they have done, they are just men seeking to make a living in difficult times.’

      He looked at where she held him so inappropriately. Her fingers tingled and burned with awareness. She loosened her grip, let it fall away completely. ‘Please,’ she said quietly.

      Their eyes locked, their bodies so close that she could feel the heat of his thighs against hers.

      ‘I do not intend to kill them,’ he said with equal softness to hers. ‘Only to disable them.’

      ‘Five hundred and fifty yards and in range!’ the call interrupted.

      North turned away and gave the command, ‘Fire!’

      Her heart contracted to a small tight knot of dread. She heard the echoing boom of a single long gun and watched with horror as the iron shot flew through the air towards its unsuspecting victim.

      But the round shot had not been aimed at Coyote’s hull. Instead, her foremast was cleaved in two, the top half severed clean to fall into the ocean. Canvas and rigging crumpled all around. The men on deck rushed around in mayhem.

      Her hands were balled so tight that her nails cut into her skinned palms. She did not notice that they bled as she braced herself for the echoing cacophony of shots that would follow, standing there knowing that she owed it to Coyote and her men not to look away, but to bear witness to their valour. She waited.

      But there was only silence.

      Kate СКАЧАТЬ