The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(20)

“’Tis not fear that stops her,” said Mr. Campbell, “but an acute onset of mal de mer. It’s the height. The crow’s nest being farthest from the ship’s center, even the smallest movement is greatly magnified. Even the most weathered sea dog canna help but be affected by it. ‘Tis why the Royal Navy uses it as a form of discipline.”

“Is that so?” said Hew with a grin. “Then it seems a fitting penalty, does it not?”

“Ye canna mean to leave the lass up there?” the mate said with alarm.

“Not forever, certainly,” said Hew. “But a little while longer shan’t do her any harm, the damned reckless, little fool.”

“Wi’ all due respect, Cap’n Hew, ain’t ye a bit hard on her? Though a right high-spirited slip of a thing, she be no different than you once was yourself,” reminded Pratt. “Ye was once up to much tomfoolery.”

“The bloody difference is that I am a man! And I would have come back down without endangering others.”

Pratt scratched his grizzled chin. “Aye, there be no doubt the lass needs to be reined in, but she only wants for the right touch. Ye ken?”

“The only touch she wants for is a good lash to her backside!” Hew retorted.

“Stodgy blighter,” Pratt mumbled under his breath.

Hew glowered. “What the deuce did you say?”

“’Tis like his lordship says, ye grow old well before yer time, Cap’n Hew.”

“Because I exercise moderation and good sense? Hang you, Pratt! One of us has to take his responsibilities seriously, and it’s not likely to be my reprobate brother. He and I will come to a reckoning the moment I return too. He swore not to meddle in my life, yet it is he who seems intent on foisting this hoyden upon me.”

“’Tis more than that, ye know. Ye haven’t been yerself since ye returned from the war. Pr’haps the little hoyden is exactly what you need.”

“Devil take you, Pratt!” Hew shielded his eyes and looked back up. “I won’t have her. I wouldn’t curse my worst enemy with that girl!”

“Ye don’t intend to fetch her?”

“No, I do not. If she climbed up, she is certainly capable of climbing back down.”

Hew ignored Vesta for a good quarter hour until the sky began to darken and the wind to kick up.

***

Vesta wanted to crawl into a hole, somewhere very deep in the solid ground, curl up, and die. She had never felt so horrible in her entire life. At first unaffected and even exhilarated by the rolling motion of the ship, she only wanted a better view of the wide, blue ocean. The mast wasn’t even so difficult to navigate, once she tied her skirts out of the way. The rope ladder made the climb far easier than the great oak outside her bedroom window, but once she’d scaled the heights of the crow’s nest, the vertigo had set in...and the nausea. Heaven help her. Her stomach now lurched in rhythm with every rise and fall of the ship. The ruthless, relentless, remorseless waves caused Vesta to greatly regret the bit of bread and cheese she’d consumed less than an hour ago.

The first mate had tried to coax her down, but she just couldn’t trust him enough to let go, and she truly wanted to. She had already sworn to Mama that she would never board a ship again once she safely descended. She really needed to get down, but to do so, she also needed Hew. She cast a gaze down over her shoulder and found him shielding his eyes and looking up at her. He was too far away to see his expression, but he just stood there, and then the beast turned away for a leisurely stroll of the quarterdeck.

Vesta swore to herself she wouldn’t beg, but she’d begun to feel weak, and weakness always frightened her. Besides, it looked like a storm might be brewing. “Please, Hew,” she wailed. “I can’t do it by myself!” Her distress cry seemed to have the desired effect, for a moment later, he was shrugged out of coat and boots and scaling the ladder.

“What the devil are you doing up here?” he bellowed.

“I just wanted to see the ocean,” she replied.

“You are surrounded by the bloody ocean!”

“But it’s different up here. I really felt like a bird in its nest. Do you suppose that’s why they call it the crow’s nest? Personally, I would have chosen a nicer bird. Crows are rather pestilent, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think. Indeed, the only thing I desire to expend any effort on right now is getting you safely back below.”

The wind was roaring in their ears. Lightning flashed in the distance. A squall was unquestionably rolling in. Vesta could feel the solid mass of him blocking the wind behind her. His arms braced the mast on either side of her, his body caging hers. “You will need to let go, Vesta. You need to turn around and face me so I can carry you down.”

“But how?” she wailed.

“Put your arms around my neck and your legs about my waist, and I can climb relatively unimpeded. Just please hold tight.”

Vesta complied without further demur. She threw her arms about his neck, and he helped her to position her legs. Closing her eyes, she clung tight and close, aware of their danger and endeavoring not to obstruct his movement.

The rain had begun falling, hard and heavy, beating against them like liquid pellets, decreasing visibility and increasing the peril of their slow descent. It seemed an eternity until they reached the solid surface of the lurching deck. Soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, Vesta’s tiny frame racked with uncontrollable shivers. She heard Hew curse, and without retrieving his coat or boots, he carried Vesta below.