The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers #1)(36)
Author: Kresley Cole

“If we could get past, it would be us catching Tallywood instead of being jammed up behind Sutherland.” She slapped the back of her hand against her opposite palm to make her point. “Calculated risks, Chancey. That’s what racing is! The crew will love it. You know it’d be talked about for years if we could slingshot past him.”

“There’s a storm comin’ soon,” he grumbled. “This move might put us right in the straits with the gale on top o’ us.”

Nicole smiled, knowing it looked ruthless. “Then we’d better hurry.”

He glowered at her. But after a muttered curse, he bellowed, “All right, men, nor’-nor’west, every stitch o’ canvas set!”

“Cap’n, ship ahoy!” Derek’s watch sang out.

“Where away?” he called in answer.

“Astern—I just caught sight of a ship due south of us at full sail! Looking at her flags, I’d say it’s that Yankee clipper.”

Derek pulled out his own spyglass to confirm that it was Lassiter’s ship. His eyes narrowed at the familiar sails and pennants of the Bella Nicola, and he snapped the spyglass closed.

He wasn’t surprised they’d caught up with him. No ship was faster than theirs in fair weather and light gales. But they had a lot of nerve to follow so closely. Nicole had most likely stolen his navigation plans even before she’d nearly unmanned him in a Brazilian brothel, and yet they sailed as though they intended to run him down. He’d never wanted a voyage to end as much as he did this one .

Derek’s head whipped up, his thoughts quelled, when a distant boom of thunder resounded. The storm he’d seen brewing to the south was gaining strength. Disquieting in itself. And then occasionally he could see the waves break over a previously hidden fracture of rock.

“I’m never easy in the Forties,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Jebediah approaching the rail.

“Nor am I,” Derek admitted as they both looked out over the sea. He wondered if Jeb was there to assure himself that his captain was sober, and said reassuringly, “We’ll get more sea room before the storm hits.”

“Just don’t want to join the litter of poor wrecks beneath us even now,” Jeb said as he cracked his gnarled knuckles.

“What? You doubt my experience?”

“Not likely. But then, you know experience isn’t a guarantee down ’ere. ’Ell, you probably like it down ’ere in the Forties since you love storms,” the old man added before he shuffled off toward the galley.

What Derek considered secret was known to this man. He did love storms. Probably because they were the only things that made him feel alive. But here in the Forties, even he was anxious.

He thought of how the Bella Nicola would fare in this storm. The Irisher sailing her had probably handled a thousand gales. He’d be aware of the dicey channels that ran through these underwater ridges, as well as the power of the storms in this latitude.

Derek had also heard in Brazil that he was proving to be a very conscientious captain, not an unpredictable sail jockey like Lassiter. Even so, Derek thought of the jagged shoals they were even now skimming, coupled with the coming storm, and became distinctly uneasy about Nicole.

Damn it, he didn’t care what happened to that ship or anything on board it, including her. She’d spied on him, lied to him, had Chancey try to brain him, not to mention her latest assault on his person.

And then there were the agonizing dreams she was responsible for.

I’m only worried because I haven’t had her yet, Derek coldly assured himself.

His regular musings on just what that would be like were interrupted when Bigsby, the ship’s surgeon, called up from the stairs.

“Captain, a word with you, please.” An anxious look pinched the man’s chapped face.

Derek, seeing the doctor’s worry, thought of the peculiar fever affecting some of his crew. Surely Bigsby had made certain none of the sick had worsened. Derek put his spyglass back in his coat pocket; at his nod, the first mate took over the bridge.

He followed the brisk surgeon into the chart room, waiting impatiently as Bigsby closed the door behind him. “Captain, I don’t want to cause a panic among the men,” he said, visibly fighting for a neutral expression, “but two more galley hands and the cabin boy have come down with the sickness.”

An invisible foe continued to harm his men. One Derek couldn’t defend them against. “That makes eleven total.” Derek scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I hired you because you’re the best. So why the bloody hell haven’t you been able to figure out what they’ve come down with?”

Bigsby, his face flushing a mottled red in his nervousness, muttered uncomfortably, “I believe I have.” He paused before he looked up, face somber, as though delivering a death sentence.

“The water on this ship has been poisoned.”

Derek couldn’t believe it—but, God help them all, it made sense. He thought of the men lying in the ’tween decks, violently ill, biting back their moans of pain. He’d written it off as merely a shipboard fever, hardly uncommon as it passed among crews. But he’d never witnessed this level of gut-wrenching pain accompanying such a fever. His instincts warned him that the doctor was dead-on in his assessment.

Poison. His mind couldn’t seem to get past his disbelief, but acting immediately was essential. “Are all the remaining barrels contaminated?” he asked, already knowing from the doctor’s face the answer to his question.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I opened them myself and fed a bit of water to a couple of the chickens.” Bigsby frowned and looked down at the hat he’d been unconsciously mangling in his hands. “From what happened to the animals, I’m positive it is the water, and that all the water is affected.”

No water? It would take them at least a week to reach the Cape of Good Hope—if his men were all able. He had a hard time making and shortening sail now, much less battling through the Forties to get to the Cape, with only a handful of sailors. And if any more of his crew got sick?

A sailor’s cry broke in on his thoughts. “Look, that little ship’s making full sail and closing in fast.” So the Bella Nicola was close. He had little hope of aid from them.

“Captain, this is fortunate,” the doctor exclaimed, his face opening into a relieved smile. “We can signal for help. Surely they have water to spare, and maybe a deckhand or two .”

The water! Nicole in the storage room Blood pumped to his head, making it pound as he sorted through the roiling thoughts flooding his mind. He hammered his hand on the table, and the physician yelped. “Get the crew on deck,” Derek barked. “Now.”

Minutes later, what was left of his able crew had been gathered. He looked at his exhausted men and another wave of rage washed over him. He forced himself to speak evenly.

“We have concluded that there is no fever on this ship.” Seeing the hopeful look on some of the men’s faces, he raised a hand. “I’m afraid what I have to tell you will be equally alarming. This sickness stems from our water supply.”