“Aye, aye, sir!”
Wesley roused Bristol, who woke the rest of the crew. In a matter of minutes men ran to their stations. Lieutenant Bishop was still buttoning his coat when he reached the quarterdeck, followed by Mr. Temple.
“What is it, sir?”
“The Dacca have returned.”
Wyatt, who was taking the helm, glanced over. “Orders, sir?” he asked coldly.
“Watch your tone, helmsman!” Temple snapped.
“Just asking, sir.”
“Asking for a caning!” Mr. Temple roared. “And you’ll get one if you don’t keep a civil tongue.”
“Shut up, the both of you. I need to think.” Seward began to pace the quarterdeck, his head down. One hand played with the tie to his robe; the other stroked his lips.
“Sir, we only have one chance and it’s a thin one at that,” Wyatt said.
Mr. Temple took hold of his cane and moved toward him.
“Belay, Mr. Temple!” the captain ordered before turning his attention back to Wyatt. “Explain yourself, helmsman.”
“At that range, with the land behind us, the Dacca can’t possibly see the Storm. All they can see are the lanterns.”
“Good god! You’re right, put out those—”
“No, wait, sir!” Wyatt stopped him. “We want them to see the lanterns. Lower the longboat, rig it with a pole fore and aft, and hang two lanterns on the ends. Put ours out as you light those, then cast off. The Dacca will focus on it all night. We’ll be able to bring the Storm about, catch the wind, and reach the safety of Wesbaden Bay.”
“But that’s not our destination.”
“Damn our orders, sir! If we don’t catch the wind, the Dacca will be on us by tomorrow night.”
“I’m the captain of this ship!” Seward roared. “Another outburst and I’ll not hold Mr. Temple’s hand.”
The captain looked at the waiting crew. Every eye was on him. He returned to pacing with his head down.
“Sir?” Bishop inquired. “Orders?”
“Can’t you see I’m thinking, man?”
“Yes, sir.”
The wind fluttered the sails overhead as the ship began to lose the angle on the wind.
“Lower the longboat,” Seward ordered at last. “Rig it with poles and lanterns.”
“And our heading?”
Seward tapped his lips.
“I shouldn’t need to remind you, Captain Seward,” Thranic said as he joined them on the quarterdeck, “that it’s imperative we reach the port of Dagastan without delay.”
Seward tapped his lips once more. “Send the longboat aft with a crew of four, and have them stroke for their lives toward Wesbaden. The Dacca will think we’ve seen them and will expect us to head that way, but the Storm will maintain its present course. There is to be no light on this ship without my order, and I want absolute silence. Do you hear me? Not a sound.”
“Aye, sir.”
Seward glanced at Wyatt, who shook his head with a look of disgust. The captain ignored him and turned to his lieutenant. “See to it, Mr. Bishop.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“You should have tried for the longboat’s crew,” Wyatt whispered to Hadrian. “We all should have.”
It was still dark, and the crescent moon had long since fallen into the sea. As per the captain’s orders, the ship was quiet. Even the wind had died, and the ship rocked, motionless and silent, in the darkness.
“You don’t have a lot of faith in Seward’s decision?” Hadrian whispered back.
“The Dacca are smarter than he is.”
“You’ve got to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. They might think we turned and ran.”
Wyatt muffled a laugh. “If you were captain and decided to make a run for it against faster ships in the dead of night, would you have left the lanterns burning? The lantern ruse only works if they think we haven’t seen them.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Hadrian admitted. “We’ll know soon enough if they took the bait. It’s getting lighter.”
“Where’s Royce and his eagle eyes?” Wyatt asked.
“He went to sleep after his shift. We’ve learned over the years to sleep and eat when you can, so you don’t regret not doing so later.”
They peered out across the water as the light increased. “Maybe the captain was right,” Hadrian said.
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t see them.”
Wyatt laughed. “You don’t see them because you can’t see anything, not even a horizon. There’s fog on the water. It happens this time of year.”
It grew lighter, and Hadrian could see Wyatt was right. A thick gray blanket of clouds surrounded them.
Lieutenant Bishop climbed to the quarterdeck and rapped softly on the captain’s door. “You asked to be awakened at first light, sir,” he whispered.
The captain came out, fully dressed this time, and proudly strode to the bridge.
“Fog, sir.”
The captain scowled at him. “I can see that, Mr. Bishop. I’m not blind.”
“No, sir.”
“Send a lad with a glass up the mainmast.”