Page 12 of The Duke of Ruin
"Olive," he shouted, banging on the door of her cabin, which seemed to be wedged shut.
"Your Grace?"
Her voice, muffled through the closed door, sounded frightened. Ruan scowled at the way she addressed him, but now was not the time for a lecture on showing wifely affection.
"Is the door locked?" he roared, pulling the front of his coat over his moth and nose, for smoke was now billowing heavily through the corridor.
"No," Olive shouted, apparently kicking the door for it rattled on its hinges. "It's wedged stuck, it must have been from the force of the blast."
"Stand back," Ruan ordered, taking a large step back before throwing his full weight against the door. It moved slightly, but did not budge. Annoyed he tried again, and this time the weight of his shoulder shattered the door to splinters. He vaguely registered shooting pain, but his main concern was getting to Olive, and then getting her safely off the ship before it was engulfed in flames.
"Come," he coughed, grabbing her hand to guide her out.
"My bag," she spluttered, for by speaking she had inhaled a lungful of smoke.
"No time," Ruan spoke tersely, dragging her forcibly from the room. He led the way down the dark corridor, both crouching low agianst the billowing smoke. When they emerged on deck, they gasped simultaneously, willing their lungs to be filled with fresh, sea air.
"Oh, goodness."
Olive's gaze was fixated on the masts. The foremast was ablaze, burning as hot as the fires of hell, and its sails were whipping against the larger main mast, which looked set to go up in flames in seconds.
"Get to a small boat," Ruan instructed, but too late he realised that there were none there, for the whole front of the ship was burning.
"Can you swim?" he asked, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly, willing her to understand the urgency of the situation.
"I can," she nodded, her face pale but calm. Silhouetted against the dark night sky, and the burning inferno of the ship, she looked beautiful. Strong, brave and beautiful. But now was not the time for compliments, so instead Ruan dragged her by the arm to the railings of the deck. Their way was precarious, for the front of the ship had begun to sink rapidly, and the deck beneath their feet sloped downward at a sharp angle.
"It will be cold," Ruan warned, kicking of his Hessians, not wanting the heavy leather boots to weigh him down in the water.
Olive nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.
"I'll go first," he continued, swinging his legs over the rails, "And you follow. I'll catch you, never fear."
He took a deep breath, held his nose and jumped into the freezing cold sea. The icy water shocked the air from his lungs, and for a second Ruan floundered beneath the waves, struggling to break the surface.
Olive, he thought wildly to himself, I have to get to Olive.
Kicking his powerful legs, he propelled himself to the surface of the choppy sea, treading water as he tried to gauge the distance to the ship. It was but a few yards away, and with strong strokes, he swam over to the burning vessel.
"Olive," he called to his wife, who was perched on the railings, evidently paralysed by fear. "Jump."
The main sail had caught fire now, and it was a terrible thing to behold. If she didn't jump she would be burned alive as the wooden ship turned into a bonfire.
"Ruan," she looked out to where he was, and seeing him in the water seemed to bolster her confidence. With a shriek she launched herself into the sea, toward her husband.
Ruan swam to where she had entered the water, fear making him nauseas. She cannot die, he thought frantically, as he scanned the waves. The relief that he felt when he spotted her red hair was palpable. She was alive, and she had not lied, she was a strong swimmer.
"We must try to get to the small boats."
Ruan spoke urgently, tugging at her hand to pull her in the direction of the stern of the ship, where surely some of the small boats would be. The night was dark, but the glow of the fire illuminated the inky black sea. He saw her eyes flash, and though her teeth chattered, Olive wore a look of steely determination.
Man and wife began to swim toward the sound of voices, which echoed above the roar of the burning ship. We'll be safe, Ruan thought happily, Black will not leave until each and every crew member is accounted for.
This was the last thought he would have for the rest of the night, for with an ominous creak, the pole holding up the main mast shattered, and crashed into the sea. A stray piece of rigging hit Ruan's skull with such force that it rendered him unconscious, and he was drifting into blackness, sinking below the waves.
"Ruan."
His name was ripped from her chattering lips while Liv watched in horror as the main mast came crashing into the sea. Her husband disappeared from view, and, frantically, Liv swam toward the burning piece of wood, desperate to save him.
