It would be a shame to hide one of his gorgeous blue eyes. A crime if one of them became damaged.
He caught her staring and winked at her. His cocky half-smile exuded confidence, and was no doubt the same expression that had enticed numerous women into his bed.
Astonished that he was directing such a blatantly flirtatious look at her, she stifled a laugh, worried that if she gave in to any one emotion, the mix of excitement and fear surging through her veins would turn to hysteria. With great effort she tore her gaze from him and focused her attention once more on helping to adjust a sail.
A cannonball hit the foremast, shattering a yardarm. Splinters flew. Harriet ducked but felt stings just above her left eyebrow and a couple of spots on her neck. She ignored them and kept hold of the rope, helping to change the direction of the sail as Sheffield maneuvered the ship.
They swung around, parallel with the Polly Ann. Chang left the swivel gun that was now on the far side from their opponent, and jumped to the deck. Winston met him at the cannon and they quickly loaded and fired at the Polly Ann, aiming for her mainmast.
More grapeshot hit the Wind Dancer’s mainmast and yardarm above them. Fragments of wood rained down. Winston fell to the deck, his hands covering his eyes, blood seeping between his fingers.
Jack, hauling on the line with Harriet, tilted his head toward his injured shipmate. “I got this,” he barked. “Go ‘elp ‘im to the sawbones.”
Harriet let go the rope, her hands feeling on fire, and guided Winston over to the hatch where Norton was waiting on the ladder, just below deck.
Should she go below and assist the surgeon? Or stay in the middle of the fray and help on deck?
With the crew busy controlling the damaged sails, no one was free to help Chang fire the cannon. They had to defend the ship. She had to help defend the ship, because if Wind Dancer sank, there would be no retrieving the treasure. If there was no treasure, then Mama and Gabriel would be sunk, too.
Two people could return fire much more quickly than one. Harriet had observed and practiced enough that she felt confident she would be more help than hindrance.
She grabbed the rod Winston had dropped and took his place at the cannon.
Chapter 10
Nick saw Winston go down, and watched Harriet guide him to Norton waiting at the aft hatch. She didn’t flinch or even seem to notice when he grabbed her arm with his bloody hand.
Good. He had more important things to worry about, like heaving his weight against the tiller to turn the ship quickly. She’d be much safer belowdecks assisting Norton in surgery.
Wait. What in blazes was the chit doing at the port gun?
Nick scanned the deck and rigging and realized no one else was available to assist Chang return fire. Dieter was still inflicting damage with the swivel gun.
Chang loaded and fired. Harriet leaned over the side rail far enough—too far for Nick’s comfort—to swab the barrel between shots.
Heaven help them if she missed any embers. Or the ship rolled and she fell overboard. Or…
He had to concentrate on dealing with Ruford. At least the smuggler seemed more intent on inflicting damage to Nick’s rigging than to his crew. If Ruford’s men aimed the grapeshot lower, Nick’s men would be mown down like ninepins.
Chang had time for just a couple more shots before Nick would have to change course again, away from the rocky coast that was already getting too close for comfort. He knew his ship, how low she rode in the water with this much on board in crew and cargo, how tight he could turn her.
More grapeshot hit the foremast t’gallant and mains’l. At this rate, he’d soon have nothing left but the flying jib. “Hit her just below the water line,” he shouted to Chang.
That should slow the Polly Ann enough that he could get out of range of her guns. His crew was good, but so was Ruford’s, and Polly Ann’s two three-pounders could do far more damage than his swivel guns and single three-pounder. He had no interest in capturing or sinking her; he just wanted to beat her to Porto, beat Ruford to the treasure.
Wind Dancer shuddered as a cannon ball struck amidship below the water line, just as Harriet leaned over to swab the barrel. Her torso was out over the water, past the tipping point, one leg in mid-air. She dropped the rod on the deck as she grabbed for the railing to keep from going over. Nick fought the need to jump to her rescue. He couldn’t let go the tiller. Many more lives were at stake than one bold miss out where she didn’t belong.
Chang lunged and grabbed Harriet by the ankle that was waving in the air. He wasn’t much bigger than Harriet, but he was tenacious in his grip. The ship righted, balance shifted, and they both thumped to the deck on their arses. They jumped up and resumed preparing to fire as though nothing had happened. Harriet did wipe her face with her forearm after she swabbed. Well, sure, anyone would sweat a bit after that.
Nick exhaled a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks, now conscious of the sweat trickling down his own back. That he was more worried about her than he was any member of his crew was simply because she was inexperienced and untrained, thrusting herself into the action when she should be sheltering below deck. He refused to examine his feelings any further.
Both ships slowed from the damage they’d inflicted on each other, and gradually moved out of each other’s firing range. Nick resumed course south for Portugal. He had every scrap of canvas unfurled on every yard that could still stand the strain, trying to put more distance between them and the Polly Ann.
“We’ll need to put in for repairs soon, Cap’n,” Jonesy said, eyeing their ragged sails and splintered yards. “Squall comes up, we’ll be floundering with nothin’ but kindling and rags.”
Nick had already selected a chart from the maphouse and was comparing the rocky coast on their port side to the chart. “Here,” he said, jabbing his finger at a spot on the map. “We should be able to reach this cove before dark. Nice sandy beach, forest comes up practically to the water’s edge. Ought to be safe there while we work.”
Jonesy peered at the chart. “Methinks we’ve been here before, aye? Just enough of a bend to go ‘round getting into the cove, Ruford will sail right past without seeing us.”
