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him. Their only chance of staying alive rested with the captain.
    “Christ!” His curse resounded. “They’re butchering them! My men are being cut down before they can even rise from the water!” He threw off his hat and tore at his hair. “No!” He pointed his arm to the men struggling in the waves closest to the ship. “Come back! It isn’t safe!”
    Struck numb like a frightened doe, a bizarre urge pulled at Chloe’s soul. She followed the length of the captain’s finger and looked in the direction it arrowed. What had he seen?
    As her gaze settled on the welcoming lights moving on shore, moonlight cleared the clouds, stripping her innocence bare.
    Jane screamed, and Chloe covered her mouth to stifle her cry as lantern light cast several figures in silhouette. Men thrashed in the water, eager for the promise of safety the land offered. But hulking figures yanked the unsuspecting crewmen up by their hair and either bludgeoned them to death or detained them, holding their bodies underwater.
    Who were these murderers? Who would do such a thing?
    A tortured sob burst from Chloe’s throat as what was left of the Mohegan’s crew floated one toward another, bobbing motionlessly with the tide until they landed lifeless on the beach.
    Laughter traveled on the air, a cacophony of maniacal glee as the murderers trudged through the waves, entrapping more victims.
    “Captain! Help us!” men cried out.
    Captain Teague leaned over the rail and choked up his accounts.
    Tears blinded Chloe’s eyes as the tide brought more frightened men closer to shore. It isn’t real. It can’t be real. These men had families, futures, loves, and desires. They were men who’d worked tirelessly to bring her safely to Penzance, men who’d listened to her read segments of her beloved book. But God in heaven, it was real. And the images firmly entrenched themselves in her soul.
    A fractured scream lodged in her throat, the sorrowful wail wedged inside her like a demon, clawing, scratching, threatening to cleave her into pieces.
    “’elp them!”
    How had Jane found the ability to speak when she’d been struck dumb?
    Captain Teague turned toward Chloe and Jane. “We cannot go ashore. Our only hope is to make one of the Mohegan’s jolly boats seaworthy.”
    “Can they help us, Captain?” She pointed her finger to the men who were fighting the cresting waves, stroking and kicking to keep from getting tossed upon the rocks as they made their way back to the ship.
    He craned his neck toward her pointed finger and followed her line of vision. “Yes,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. He climbed over the side, gripping boarding ropes and leaning outward and down with more dexterity than she’d previously granted him, to offer his hand to anyone within reach.
    She grabbed Jane’s arm. “Come. We must do whatever we can to help the captain.”
    A crewman approached, nursing his head, then slipped on the deck. Jane dropped their belongings and moved to help the man regain a foothold.
    Chloe, possessed with a courage and strength she hadn’t known she had, brandished a hand to another man named Flynn, his face bloodied as he ascended the ropes dangling over the battens along the hull to the deck.
    “Thank you, my lady,” Flynn said with a timid smile.
    “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”
    “No time.” Flynn rose, then moved back to the side, gently pushing Jane out of the way to offer his brawny strength to help a man aboard. She recognized him as Doyle.
    The Mohegan pitched, groaning another death knell, her fracturing hull making Chloe almost believe a leviathan cracked it open from beneath.
    Captain Teague shifted his attention from rescuing his men to the ship once more. “Flynn. Doyle. We must try to get one of our boats in the water. We haven’t got long.”
    Pfft! Boom!
    Jane clutched her chest.
    “What is that?” Chloe asked, running to the opposite rail as the whoosh of impact on the sea’s surface echoed