Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Forty-Two

The waves crashed against us as we raced over the water, every sail open to full capacity. Now and then, Tristan would ask for a speed measurement, shaking his head in displeasure whenever it wasn't fast enough. He'd exhibited the same actions all through the night and into the morning as we made chase.

"We need more speed!" he yelled, holding onto some rigging as we passed over a particularly rough section of water.

"We've given her all we have, Captain!" James shouted back from the helm. "All that could aid us would be a stronger wind!"

Making a noise of exasperation and rage, Tristan pulled the spyglass from his belt again, looking at the horizon expectantly.

"Sails!"

"Aye, sails!" he exclaimed, echoing the watchman's cry. "A mile or two ahead!"

"Is it Randall?" I asked, trying to see what they were seeing with my own eyes.

"It's him," Tristan responded grimly. "I feel it in my bones." He looked through the telescope once more, frowning. "How long till we catch him, James?"

"At this rate?" He looked to be adding numbers in his head, his eyes squinting as he looked at the faraway ship. "An hour or two at least. The sea is getting rough, which will make better wind, but will make for hard sailing, Captain."

"Two hours," Tristan responded, nodding. "Aye. Men, get ready for a fight!"

They roared back, waving pistols and swords in the air, when the man in the crow's nest began howling in earnest.

"She's turning!" he screamed. "Turning right for us!"

Hastily, Tristan retrieved his spyglass again, training it on the ship in the distance. "Cocky," he muttered, snapping the instrument back to size. "He means to greet us head on and fight, not run."

"How long till we meet?" I asked breathlessly.

"Maybe half an hour," he growled, grabbing me by the arm as John began shouting at the crew. "Samantha, I want ye to get in one of the long boats and start back for the last land we passed."

"What?" I looked at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads, the statement made such little sense to me.

"We are about to have an all out war," he said urgently. "One or both of these ships is going to be at the bottom of the ocean come nightfall. I'll not have ye be with it."

"I can help," I argued. "I've been learning how to fight! I'm part of the crew! You can't just send me off because it will make you feel better!"

"Please, Samantha," Tristan urged, fear flashing across his face. "Get in the boat and go. No one will blame ye, no one will even see ye."

"I'm not leaving," I replied forcefully. "You agreed to treat me as an equal and let me be part of this crew. I'm not going to run right when everyone needs my support."

"Ye are my wife," he barked. "And ye will do as I say, equal or not!"

Yelping as he grabbed my arm, I struggled against him, my feet slipping over the deck as he drove me to the edge and pushed me into a long boat.

"I love ye," he spoke in earnest, kissing my hand as he shoved me away. "Please forgive me."

"Tristan, stop," I said, panicked. "Don't do this! Let me help!"

"I'm sorry." He drew his sword, frowning, and sliced the rope that held one end of the boat up.

Screeching, I snatched the seat as the one side began to fall, looking up at him in horror. On the other side, John Butler appeared, severing the rope that would keep me attached to the ship, evening out the fall as I crashed down to the water. The collision rocked the boat over, the wake from the ship pushing me away.