Within minutes, the crew had set sail for the tough run into the wind. A gust heeled the Windsprite the moment they pulled away from the lee of their anchorage, pushing them back toward land.
Rourke stormed the deck, shouting orders to bring the ship onto a tack that angled toward the reef. Spray pelted his face and ran into his eyes. It soaked his clothes and reinforced his decision to shun shoes aboard ship. Many captains dressed like gentlemen, but Rourke stuck to his humble roots. He liked the throb of the waves beneath his feet. The ship was a living, breathing creature, like a whale or tortoise. He wanted to feel its every move.
Rourke surveyed his crew with pride. Despite the tempest, they hauled in the main sheet until the sail caught just enough of the wind, and soon the sloop flew across the water. The first run took them into Hawk Channel far short of the doomed schooner. Rourke followed the ship’s lights with his spyglass. The hull appeared to list to starboard. Either it had taken on even more water or was heeled over in the gale.
On the next tack they headed back toward the string of islands with equal haste, but the maneuver had gained them little ground. At this rate, it would take hours to reach the foundered ship.
He barked out the order to come about again. “And keep that signal going. Maybe the fool will finally see it.”
John shook his head. “She on da reef.”
Despite the fact that the schooner’s lights hadn’t moved since before they set sail, Rourke wasn’t willing to concede it had run aground. Perhaps the master had heeded his warning and put out anchor. Maybe the darkness played tricks with his eyes, and the vessel sailed in safe waters. If so, his arrival cost nothing. If not, the poor souls aboard that ship would need assistance.
He stormed from deckhand to deckhand, adding his strength to the difficult tacks. In such a stiff wind, the swing of the boom on each jibe had to be controlled, or the wind and sea would send the sloop over on her side. Rourke knew the Windsprite’s temper, her tendency to hesitate before coming about. He knew she’d make the turn and skip across the waves like a flying fish. He’d worked this old sloop all his sailing life, as his father had before him. No more than a dozen planks in the hull were original, but he’d patched her up year after year, and she rewarded him by flying faster than any other wrecking vessel.
“You can do it, girl,” he urged as they made the next turn.
Once again they faced the schooner, which was still in the same spot. As they raced along on this tack, the rains slowed to a drizzle, the storm clouds broke, and the waning three-quarter moon peeked out. Its silvery light sprinkled the inky water, revealing that John had been right. The schooner was fast aground and rolled onto its starboard side on the outer edge of the reef. Its tattered sails flapped wildly. With this sea, the ship would soon break up and sink beneath the waves.
Deep sadness swept over him, as it always did when he saw a ship founder. Nothing was more tragic than a wounded ship, its masts and booms holding out shreds of sail like a gull with broken wings. Too often lives were lost.
“Should I keep signaling, Cap’n?” Tom asked, his drawn face ghostly pale beneath his wind-whipped dark hair.
“No. No use now. Help trim the sail.”
Tom sped off with an “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
“God save her crew,” John said, as he always did before a sinking.
“Aye.” That was what those poor souls would need.
“And may He bring good cargo.” John’s grin reflected the other part of this business.
A valuable cargo would make them rich men. That was something worth praying for, wasn’t it?
Elizabeth fought to her feet on the wildly slanting floor. Or was it the wall? She felt around but could make no sense of her surroundings. Her aunt was screaming hysterically, and Anabelle was trying to calm her, without much success.
“We’re going to die,” Aunt Virginia shrieked.
“You be fine, Miz Virginia.”
Yet the calmer Anabelle’s voice, the louder grew Elizabeth’s aunt.
“I knew we would drown.” The woman barely stopped for breath. “Didn’t I say so from the start? If not for my love and respect for your dear mother, Elizabeth, I would never have consented to come along on this foolish voyage. Business can be conducted by post. Why didn’t your father fetch you if he wanted you home so badly?”