Surrender the Sea by MaryLu Tyndall

Author:MaryLu Tyndall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MaryLu Tyndall
Published: 2017-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

♦♦♦

At six bells before noon, or eleven o’clock, the bosun’s shrill pipe halted the men in their work. “All hands on deck!”

Thankful for the temporary reprieve from the harrowing heights, Noah followed his crew down the ratlines to the deck below. Still slower than a fish through molasses, he always landed last on the planks. But he would wager that he was the most grateful for the solid feel of wood beneath his feet.

Captain Milford emerged onto the deck in a burst of pomposity. His crisp, white breeches, stockings, and waistcoat gleamed beneath a dark coat that was lined with buttons shimmering in the bright sun. Black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled taut behind him. Traces of strength remained in the muscles that now seemed to sag with weakness. Climbing the quarterdeck ladder, he took his spot at the railing before the helm and looked down on his crew.

The bosun piped the men to attention and called them to muster in the waist. The marines, fully decked in their red coats and white pants with bayonets gleaming formed a line before the men. The petty officers fell into jagged rows behind them, while the midshipmen and officers assembled in crisp ranks on the quarterdeck, immediately aft of the mainmast.

Captain Milford stepped forward.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, Noah lingered near the back of the mob, anxious for possible news of the ship’s destination. But instead of good news, the captain bellowed, “You shall witness a hearing and subsequent punishment of a fellow crewman. Remain orderly and in your ranks.”

Noah bristled beneath the excitement in the captain’s voice.

“Master of Arms, bring forth the prisoner,” the captain shouted and Noah’s throat went dry, hoping it wasn’t one of his own men. Relief allayed his fears when the master dragged forward a middle-aged, beefy sailor whose neck seemed to disappear beneath his head. He halted before the railing, his face lowered and the irons around his hands clanking.

Noah’s heart went out to him. Luke and Weller pressed in on either side of Noah and gave him a look of trepidation.

“Let us proceed. Read the charges,” the captain shouted.

As the master at arms read from a list of offenses, a flash of red caught Noah’s eyes. Miss Denton stood by the larboard railing at the break of the quarterdeck, trapped by the conflux of crewmen. Terror screamed from her expression, and Noah wondered if it was the close proximity of the sea or the proceedings that frightened her.

“. . . and threatening a shipmate with a knife,” the master at arms concluded.

The captain eyed the man with disdain. “What do you say for yourself, Mr. Bowen?”

Mr. Bowen shook his bucket-shaped head and dared to glance at his captain. “No, sir. I only found the knife on deck an’ picked it up.”

Blackthorn edged beside Noah. “This won’t be pretty.”

“Sentence has not yet been pronounced,” Noah reminded him.

“It will be. And soon. I ne’er seen the captain turn down an opportunity to flog one of ’is men.

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