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in the distance. The deafening roar and what she knew deep down was impotent cannon fire had not originated from the direction of the ship offshore, the one she’d seen following them earlier.
    Pfft! Boom!
    This time an orange spark of light erupted, highlighting muted canvas as a new obstacle, a silhouetted vessel farther out to sea, sailed closer to their imperiled ship.
    Chloe and Jane rushed to the left side of the vessel, facing forward, at the larboard rail. The attacker’s aimed lob hit its target, igniting an inferno aboard the ship closer to shore, whittling their enemy’s shape out of darkness.
    Wet, her clothes clinging to her body and her hair plastered to her face, Chloe shivered. Which of these evils posed the greater danger? Drowning in the Mohegan as it cracked into pieces; swimming toward shore and possibly getting pounded against the rocks, which also led to drowning; making it to shore only to be bludgeoned to death; or being taken prisoner by either ship battling at sea?
    And which ship—the one driving them on to the rocks or the one attacking that ship—posed the greater risk? Did anyone mean to save them or did the men on both ships want the Mohegan’s cargo?
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

THREE
     
    KING GEORGE decrees the BLACK REGENT is a menace to society. BEWARE, all who join his ranks, for you will find FREE TRADE is not a lucrative BUSINESS. Your ACTIVITIES will be THWARTED by PREVENTATIVE MEN who will NOT rest until they END the infamous Black Regent’s REIGN!
    ~ Sherborne Mercury, 30 July 1809
     
     
    Markwick braced his feet against the shuddering recoil of jolting cannon. “Hold your fire! Keep her steady!”
    “Dead aim, Cap’n. She’s a burnin’. Don’t ’spect she’ll give the other’n problems now.” Pye laughed gleefully.
    “Could be a ploy,” Markwick said, trying to snap the man back to reality.
    “Do ye reckon they ’tend to lure us in, too?”
    “That’s a risk we cannot take.” He lifted his mask, positioning it into place over his eyes, and then tied the ends behind his head. “I don’t trust anything about this, Pye, but we cannot allow wreckers to kill innocents. Especially if that ship is the Mohegan and our runaway is on board.”
    Pye turned away from Markwick and shouted orders at their scurrying crew. “Move quickly! Get the cutters in the water and heave-ho! That hull won’t hold together much longer. Those poor souls won’t last.”
    Markwick turned toward the shifting heap of broken timber, backlit by lanterns on shore as the wreckers impatiently awaited more victims to silence. On board the ship, which was struggling against the rocks and surf, he spied a few silhouetted forms, most likely what was left of the ship’s crew, waving their hands in desperation.
    “Devil doubt it, more than enough of them have already seen the wrong end of a club. We must do whatever we can before the ship breaks apart completely and they drown.”
    Pye nodded. “Aye, Cap’n. What be your orders?”
    “Watch that ship. If it tries to stop us, send it back to hell.”
    “Without ye, sir?”
    “Worried you’ll have all the fun, eh?” Markwick put a hand on Pye’s shoulder.
    “I’m worried about ye gettin’ killed tryin’ to make sure Walsingham’s sister isn’t on that wreck.”
    Markwick hoisted himself over the rail, setting his boots on the battens to prepare for the climb down. “What if she is?”
    Pye pursed his lips. “Should we send another boat?”
    “Yes. We’ll grab who and what we can. But I don’t want to spend too much time hauling cargo off that ship while another one waits to fight for it just offshore.” He chanced another look in the wreckers’ direction. “Engage, if needed, with successive blows, but otherwise stay your lines and wait for our return. I will not come back until every man, woman, and child is accounted for on board that ship.