Beloved Captive by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page B

bound.”
    He spoke the words as if he were discussing the weather.  
    “Have I a choice?”
    “Yes,” he said. “You can let me do what the captain’s told me I must, or I’ll do it anyway and likely you’ll be the worse for it.”
    “I see. And then what will happen to me?”
    The man ducked as he stepped into the room, a silk ribbon in brilliant scarlet dangling from one hand. “I’m to bring you to the quarterdeck and be hasty about it.”
      She sighed and met him halfway. “Then let’s get this over with.”
    In truth, nothing could be worse than remaining in the tiny cabin to await the return of the evil captain. At least out in the open she might find the opportunity to fling herself overboard.  
    That she could not swim mattered less than that she would not remain aboard this vessel.
    The man bound her hands, then scooped her up like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder. This is my path to freedom , she reminded herself as she was jostled on her way up, around, and under the wooden passageways until salt air heavy with the smell of gunpowder and charred wood assaulted her nose.
    Immediately, she sneezed.
    The activity around her continued as she was carried to her destination like so much baggage. One more flight of stairs, and she found herself on the highest point of the vessel.  
    To her right, a knot of sailors worked on a small cannon that looked to have misfired. To the left, another group seemed to be faring well with their weapon. Straight ahead at the wheel stood Thomas Hawkins.
    He turned, his greatcoat whirling about, then settling like a cloud under the moonlight. “Welcome, pigeon,” he said. “While I regret our evening plans have changed, you’re about to become quite useful to me.” He nodded to the red-haired man, who quickly retreated. “Walk with me,” he said to Emilie. “I’ve a mind to show you off. See, we have visitors.”
    She looked where he pointed. A vessel much like the one she’d started this journey aboard came into view. For a moment, she held out hope it might actually be the Sunday Service come back to claim her.
    “See that ship? She’s the Cormorant , ship-of-the-line to the pirate Ian Benning,” Captain Hawkins said. “She’ll either be the life of you or the death of you. I haven’t decided which.”

    ***

    “Hold your fire!” Caleb shouted.
    “What is it, sir?” the captain called.
    “I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a woman aboard.” Caleb snatched the spyglass from the hand of the lad at his side. “Sure enough. There she is.”
    Hawk’s Remedy drew close enough for Caleb to see the woman without the spyglass. Though he couldn’t be sure, it appeared she was bound at the wrists.
    “What do you make of it?” This from Fletcher, who had come above during a lull in the fray. “I wager she’s a ploy.”
    Caleb considered the statement. “No, there’s something in her demeanor that tells me otherwise. Call it instinct, but I think she’s a captive.”
    “Instinct?” Fletcher chuckled. “From a man who has spent his life behind a desk?”
    He spared his mentor a sideways glance. “Am I to find insult in that comment?”
    “No, lad. You’re to find great pride in it.” He reached for the spyglass and peered into its depths. “For upon closer inspection, I can see a red cord binding her hands.” Fletcher lowered the spyglass. “Likely done to be seen from a great distance.”
    “I would have your advice,” Caleb said.  
    Fletcher shook his head. “You know what to do, Caleb. Don’t ask an old man what you already know.”
    Caleb nodded and shrugged out of his shirt, then handed Fletcher his pistol and sword. For this, he’d need nothing in the way of extra clothing to impede his ability to swim back to the Cormorant if need be.  
    “You’re going unarmed?” Fletcher quirked a gray brow. “Now perhaps I have a comment.”
    Caleb ignored him to continue his preparation for the mission. Shedding