The Lost Gentleman

He smiled. ‘Then look up at Raven’s sails and rigging.’

She did as he bid and what she saw stole the words from her tongue. Gone was the tatty patched ordinary canvas found on many merchant schooners, and in their place was a large spread of pristine-looking sails. She felt the prickle of cold sweat at the sight.

‘And our hull is longer and sleeker than most ships of this size. North’s own design. The combination of the hull design and the sail spread allow us uncommon speed and manoeuvrability, making us faster than most pirate ships.’

‘I did not see any gun ports either for the guns below.’

‘Optical illusion.’ Reverend Dr Gunner smiled again. ‘We are carrying eighteen big guns, as well as several small swivel guns.’

Compared to Coyote’s arsenal of eight guns.

‘Our men are drilled to fire one-minute rounds. And—’ he could barely contain his excitement ‘—we have a special powder mix that extends the range of our shot.’

‘Oh, my!’ she said softly.

‘Not to mention our personal weaponry.’ He pulled part of the enormous cutlass from the scabbard that hung from his left hip, to expose a small section of the silver shining blade. ‘It is a special high-tensile steel from Madagascar. There is nothing to match its combined hardness and flexibility. And we carry an armament that would kit out an army. We are the very best, or, depending on whose point of view one takes, the very worst of what sails upon these seas. We can best any pirate.’ He smiled again.

Kate thought of Coyote out there somewhere behind, following Raven. ‘I see.’ She forced the curve to her lips, but inside her stomach was clenched with worry and there was a cold realisation spreading through her blood.

‘Wonderful, is it not?’

Wonderful was not the word Kate was thinking to describe it. The priest was awaiting her reply, but she was saved from having to make one by the arrival of a call that rang out from the crewman in the rigging.

‘Ship ahoy!’

It was the words that until only a few minutes ago Kate had been praying to hear. Now, in view of what Reverend Dr Gunner had just told her, they left her with mixed emotions.

* * *

‘South-south-west.’

Kit scanned the horizon in that direction and saw the tiny spot. Raising his spyglass to his eyes, he trained it hard upon the ship and focused.

He heard the familiar tread of Gunner’s boots strolling over towards him. He heard nothing of the woman, but knew she was there from the reassurances Gunner was speaking to her.

They stood there quietly by his side, the woman between him and his shipmate. Gunner, not wanting to interrupt Kit’s concentration, stood content and quiet in his own meditations.

The silence stretched.

It was the woman who broke it.

‘What do you see, sir?’ she asked.

‘A schooner.’

‘Is it the pirates? The same pirates...?’

He snapped the spyglass shut and turned to look at her. ‘It is difficult to say at this distance.’

He felt that same slight prickle of tension and hostility that emanated from her.

‘Mrs Medhurst is understandably a little nervous,’ Gunner said. ‘I have tried to convince her of our superior strength, but...’ He smiled and gave a shrug of his shoulders.

‘Rest assured, ma’am, if Coyote is fool enough to come after us with vengeance in mind, then, as I am sure Reverend Dr Gunner has already pointed out, we will have disabled her before she is within range to fire her own guns. She has only eight small ones, mainly four and six pounders, nine if you include the swivel gun on the rail, to our eighteen larger.’

‘How can you know that?’ She looked pale in the bright morning sun.

‘I have a very good spyglass.’ He smiled. ‘And I counted.’

She swallowed and did not look reassured.

‘Calm your nerves, ma’am, if La Voile’s crew threaten violence they will go the same way as their captain.’

He saw the flicker of something in those eyes trained on the distant ship before she masked it, something that looked a lot like fear, there then gone.

‘Have I convinced you, Mrs Medhurst?’

‘Yes, Captain North, I do believe you have.’ Her eyes held his and she smiled, but it was not an easy smile. ‘May I?’ Her eyes flickered to the spyglass in his hand.

She could not have known what she was asking. A sea captain did not lend his spyglass lightly. But she stood there patiently waiting, with those Atlantic grey eyes fixed on his. There was no sign of any fear now. She seemed all still calmness, but he sensed that slight tension that underlay her. Her hands were steady as she accepted the spyglass and peered through it, adjusting its focus to suit her eyes. She looked and those tiny seconds stretched.

At last she closed the spyglass and returned it to him, their eyes meeting as she did so.

‘Thank you.’ Her American lilt was soft against his ears. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I think I will retire to my cabin for a little while, if you don’t mind.’

They made their devoirs.

His eyes followed her walking away across that deck to the hatch, the gentle sway of her hips, the proud high-held head. Despite the faded black muslin, chip-straw bonnet and bare feet, she had an air about her of poise and confidence.

‘She is afraid,’ said Gunner softly.

‘Yes,’ agreed Kit, his gaze still fixed on her retreating figure. She was afraid, but not in the way any other woman would have been afraid. There was a strength about her, an antipathy, and something else that he could not quite work out.

He glanced up to find Gunner watching him.

‘Is it Coyote?’ Gunner asked with just the tiniest raise of his brows.

‘Without a doubt,’ replied Kit smoothly.

* * *

Kate closed the door of the cabin behind her and leaned her spine against it, resting there as if she could block out North and the situation she found herself in.

If La Voile’s crew threaten violence, they will go the same way as their captain. North’s words sounded again in her mind, and she did not doubt them, not for an instant. Not because of rumours or reputations, but because she had seen the evidence with her own eyes.

Her men were coming for her. And they would most definitely threaten violence. Raven’s sails made her fast. But not faster than Coyote.

Sunny Jim was an experienced seaman. He would see the change in Raven’s sails, but he would not see anything that was designed to stay hidden. Not the long-range guns or their number, or the fact Coyote would be hit before she could fire a shot. Not the weaponry aboard, or, worse than any of that, the mind of the man who was a more formidable enemy than any fireside tale foretold.