Page 5 of Scandalous

“I will summon my first mate with an offer to capitulate. If we can capture him, I believe the mutiny will die quickly. You wait behind the door as you did with me. I will take the other pistol and confront him when he enters.”

“What if he is more suspicious than you and sends someone else? What if he brings a pistol of his own?”

He flushed at her not-so-subtle mockery of his own easy capture. “De Heeckeren is overconfident and not expecting any resistance from me. He will come. Also, I possess the only pistols on this ship, and he would not bring a musket to such a close space.”

“And once we have the first mate, you will unlock the hold and free everyone?”

He nodded. “I daresay they will prove loyal to our cause, which is more than I can say for many of my crew.”

“And then we will parley?”

Again he nodded.

Sarah hesitated.

“This is no trick. The privateers are now our best hope. But we must hurry.”

What else could she do? She could not single-handedly capture the ship. She could—

“Miss Fisher, we must—”

She raised the gun. “Let me think.”

His mouth snapped shut, and he slumped in his chair.

What did she have? A pair of guns and herself. She grimaced. She needed help to get past the sailors and to reach the hold and Femi. She bit back a groan as the thoughts chased one another around and around inside her exhausted brain.

She had to trust somebody. There was no other way. She studied the captain from beneath her lashes. His skin was sheened with sweat, and his hands shook. He might not even stay conscious long enough to take back his ship.

Something slammed hard on the deck above them, and Sarah jumped.

“What are they doing?” she demanded.

“Probably preparing the cannons to fight the privateers.”

Cannons! The people in the hold would be the first to die if the ships exchanged cannon fire.

Sarah said a silent prayer and pulled the second pistol from her waistband. “It is loaded.”

He took the gun and checked it.

“Extra ammunition?” he asked, ignoring the weapon she still had leveled at his chest.

Sarah struggled with her wet, heavy clothing to pull out the little bag of powder and balls. After an interminable time digging about, she located both and handed them over. He looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.

“What?”

“It is only . . . Well, if you will forgive me, I was going to say we may need to move quickly. Will you be able to do so in your wet garments?” The captain flushed under her suspicious stare and shrugged. “Should you desire it, there is dry clothing in the wardrobe behind you. It is men’s clothing, but we are of a similar height, and you will be able to move faster.”

He was right—her clothing was a hindrance. Besides, she stank and was cold. Sarah could discern no sly intent or cunning in his face. All the same, she backed toward the wardrobe without lowering her gun. She jerked open the door and glanced inside.

“For the love of God.” He plunked down the pistol on the desk. “There, keep it. Although how you plan to change your clothing and shoot me at the same time I cannot guess.” He moved his chair so his back was toward her and collapsed into it.

Sarah tore off several buttons in her haste to get out of her garments. She yanked one of his fine linen shirts over her worn chemise before stepping out of her tattered skirt and into a pair of breeches, all the while keeping her eyes on Graaf’s back. After she’d donned a waistcoat and a blue woolen frock coat, she picked up the second gun and handed it over his shoulder.

The captain looked at her outfit and snorted, his barely suppressed amusement triggering a coughing fit.

“That serves you right for laughing.” Sarah cocked her pistol and took her place behind the door. “Now, are you ready to take back your ship?”