“Captain!” Snell shouted as he took hold of Nathaniel and jerked him out of Hawk’s arms as a red flare of rage boiled through Hawk.
Snell’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, letting go of Nathaniel and lifting his palms. “I’m trying to stop you from being swept up in this nonsense. As sincere as young Mr. Bainbridge might be in this moment, it is a fantasy. The gentry don’t run away with pirates.”
Nathaniel sputtered. “You don’t know a thing about me! You don’t know—”
“What I know is that we need the ransom!” Snell glared at Nathaniel, then took a step toward Hawk, beseeching. “I have supported you in this as far as I can. I helped quell that mutiny, but my first duty must be to the men. They have been promised for a month. They are owed. It is time. Enough of this balderdash.”
When Hawk looked to Nathaniel, a vision of him covered in blood took hold, flooding his gut with acid. Hawk would only drag him into the abyss. He had to do everything he could to keep Nathaniel safe.
Nathaniel shook his head. “Don’t listen to him!”
Gathering his strength with a deep inhalation, Hawk turned and took his coat off the hook on the hull wall, shrugging the hot leather over his shoulders. He tied the red sash around his waist, then strapped on his belt and weapons, the heat of Nathaniel’s angry gaze a horrible itch on his skin.
He opened the desk drawer and plucked out his rings, pushing them over his knuckles. Up on the main deck, a voice called, “Launch approaching!”
Hawk faced Nathaniel, who watched him with jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. Hawk asked, “Don’t you want to dress properly? Your waistcoat? Shoes and stockings?”
He gritted out, “No. Let’s get on with it.” He turned, then whirled back. “You’re many things, but I never imagined coward was one of them.”
“All right, up you fucking go, brat!” Snell hauled him out of the cabin, and Hawk followed, his boots thudding on the deck, blood rushing in his ears. He must withstand this. Nathaniel would thank him once he was back on solid ground, warm and coddled, safe and sound.
Hawk narrowed his gaze on Primrose Isle beyond the harbor, where ships of varying sizes bobbed, none big enough to carry many guns. In the black night, firelight dotted the hillside, fanning out, but not nearly as much as he’d expected. Under the sun it would be easier to judge, but the colony did appear quite lacking.
From the approaching launch, a man called, “Captain Hawk?”
Hawk stood at the bow. “Aye.”
“We must see Nathaniel Bainbridge, alive and unharmed.”
Hawk reached back for Nathaniel’s arm, but Nathaniel jerked free and strode to stand beside him. “I’m here. Unharmed.”
Squinting into the wooden boat, which was rowed by two men, the speaker perched in the bow, Hawk asked, “Where the fuck is the governor? My demand was that he meet us. Alone.”
“Governor Bainbridge is taken ill with worry. He has been abed for days.” The messenger’s voice cracked. “I am here as his representative.”
Hawk snorted. “Yes, I’m sure he’s quite ill. Get up here.” While he’d looked forward to seeing the whoreson again, to lording his revenge, all that truly mattered was the sack this sweating, quivering emissary held, and whether it contained the ransom. That was all that could matter.
Our time is up. This was always where we would end. He deserves far better than me. He’ll thank me for this before long.
Yet Nathaniel’s plea echoed in this mind. Was it possible to have the money and Nathaniel? Right that minute, could he have both?
It would be a battle, but it would likely be a battle regardless, even though they could spy no soldiers in wait and they were out of range of any cannons on land. Excited apprehension vibrated through him.
They could try.
The messenger wore a ridiculously puffy wig and was dressed in fine silks that were too big for his frame. He climbed up the rope ladder they unfurled, trembling as he threw a leg over the rail and boarded on the port side. He held out the sack, and Snell took it, opening it and snapping his fingers for a lantern.
Hawk couldn’t breathe. He reached for Nathaniel, taking his shoulder. Nathaniel panted softly, his eyes imploring in the spray of lantern light. Hawk could keep him safe, couldn’t he? In a life away from the sea’s turmoil, he could. He would!
They had the money—if he kept Nathaniel too, or if they ran, or arranged to meet—
A pistol exploded in the night, and Hawk whipped his head around, reaching for his cutlass, then gritting his teeth at the followed curse and one of the men shouting, “’Twas only a misfire!”
As Hawk opened his mouth to order calm, the emissary lunged toward him with wild, spooked eyes, and Nathaniel was suddenly in front of him, knocking Hawk back.