The Huntress ✓

27. Wreck of the Falcon

Darkness fell like a thick blanket, tucking the hostile weather around the Huntress. They lay on the edge of a storm, but even on the outskirts, the water picked up tempo and the waves rose ever higher against the ship as they made their way toward the cove.

Bronte held up the spyglass to gauge their progress when a flash of lightning, followed by a loud crack, illuminated a ship just off the dangerous shoals surrounding the islands. She thought at first Blake had arrived, but reconsidered. There was only one safe way into the harbor and it was apparent this ship didn't know it. Another crack, louder, sent shivers down her spine as lightning zigzagged across the sky and hit the mizzenmast of the other ship. Her heart beat as furiously as the growing storm as the fire spread through the ship's rigging and enveloped her sails. She lowered the glass but continued to stare at the growing fire, wondering if she should risk her crew to save theirs. The ship's chances of making it to safe harbor ahead of the storm were slim before. Now they were zero. The ship would go down. A deluge of rain fell, dousing the mast, but the flames had spread across the ship. When she lifted the glass again, it revealed the mizzenmast breaking off and plummeting toward the deck. She stared hard at the ship's side trying to make out her name. The letters came into view and her heart skipped a beat. It was the Falcon.

"Helmsman, alter our heading!" she shouted above the howling winds and crashing waves.

Bronte vaguely heard him repeat her order back as she shouted out the new course that would bring them to the burning ship.

Sam stomped up on her left.

"ARE YOU DAFT?!" he shouted incredulously. "We have to make port while we still can. It gets much worse and we're better off heading to sea than trying to navigate the course, not to mention, if we grapple on to that ship, the waves will beat us together until we both sink! And if by some miracle we're not smashed to bits, the fire could spread to our decks and we'll be no better off than they!"

Rain, pouring from the heavens, squelched the flickering orange light visible on the ship.

Bronte glanced at Sam triumphantly, turning the corners of her mouth up and lifting her brows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, no fire—we'll still be pulverized."

Bronte met his gaze and she knew he could see the storm reflected in her eyes. "I'm captain here!" she said sternly. A look of hurt crossed Sam's face and Bronte, feeling a twinge of guilt, amended simply, "It's the Falcon." Without waiting for him to respond she turned and gave the order to ready the longboat.

Sam shook his head as he tramped toward the ladder to comply. "I don't know who's the daffter. You, or me, for following your orders."

As the Huntress drew near the Falcon Bronte gave orders to heave to, drop the sea anchor, and put out the longboat. "If the longboat is lost, don't wait—haul anchor and get to shore," Bronte said as she turned to Sam. "Find me four strong rowers who'll go aboard—willingly."

Sam furrowed his brows but returned to the crew. Moments later, he reappeared with three men. Black and Cuthbert among them. "Let's be off, Captain Farrow," Sam said.

The rain slowed and the wind came down a few knots. With any luck, the storm would blow by completely. Bronte meant to leave Sam in command of the ship, but it was clear he meant to go. Bronte decided she'd rather not argue and lose the window of opportunity the storm offered.

"Away then. We've little time," she said instead.

The men rowed to the doomed ship swiftly, despite the rolling sea, and soon were climbing on deck.