Page 24 of Only By Grace
Even in Carew’s cabin, Grace found little relief. Though the cabin afforded some fresher air, her rebellious stomach refused to be calmed by the ginger tea as the storm tossed the ship around like a toy in a child’s hands. When Paddy returned to check how she did, he took the basin with a sigh.
“Please do not tell the Captain,” she begged as another violent wave slammed the door shut and had them both holding on for dear life.
“I won’t tell him on purpose,” Paddy replied with the wisdom of someone far beyond his years.
“Is the crew at least pleased now that the wind is blowing?” she ventured.
Paddy shrugged. “I’m not sure they’re ever really pleased, miss. But, aye, the storm will be your fault.”
Grace groaned. “You might think my illness would soften their resentment.”
“I doubt it,” the boy said with a hint of pity. “You do have the worst case of the pukes I’ve ever seen.”
“It is reassuring to be best at something,” she muttered, while mulling over the word puke.
Paddy grinned faintly. “If there’s naught else, miss, I’ve got to get back to work. All hands on deck, what with the storm.”
As he turned to leave, a loud bang sounded against the door.
“What was that?” Grace whispered, hurrying to set the latch.
“Let me in, Paddy!” came a muffled shout. “I know you’re in there!”
“Cor, it’s Kilroy,” Paddy muttered, his face pale.
“Who is that?” Grace asked, though she feared she already knew.
“The fiercest, meanest giant ye ever saw.” Paddy trembled as the banging grew louder. Grace instinctively placed an arm around the boy. How sturdy was the latch? What did he want? She glanced around the cabin, searching for something to secure the door. Yet everything was bolted down, and there was nothing at hand with which to defend herself.
The voice outside grew more menacing. “Open this door, or I’ll break it down and string ye up by yer toenails, boy!”
“Don’t do it, Paddy,” Grace urged.
Her gaze landed on a sword mounted upon the wall. Without a second thought, she seized it, though it felt impossibly heavy in her hands. As the door shuddered beneath another assault, Grace gritted her teeth and raised the blade. If they meant to harm her or Paddy, they would have to face her first.
The door rattled violently under Kilroy’s assault, the splintering sound making Grace’s stomach churn anew, though this time from fear rather than the storm’s relentless tossing. The sword in her trembling hands felt impossibly heavy, itsweight and her own terror conspiring to make her question her resolve. The blade quivered visibly, but she tightened her grip, willing herself to stand firm.
Paddy crouched beside her, his wide eyes fixed on the door. “Miss, I dunno how long that latch’ll hold,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the furious pounding and the muffled roar of Kilroy’s threats. “If he gets in?—”
“He won’t,” Grace interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. She glanced down at the boy, his youthful courage just barely holding against the tide of panic. “Stay behind me. No matter what happens.”
Her mind raced. She wasn’t made for this——this was the stuff of her sisters’ daring exploits or the adventures in the novels she read. Yet here she was, gripping a weapon meant for a soldier or brave fighter, neither of which she had remote claims to.
The storm outside seemed to echo his fury, a deafening crack of thunder rattled the timbers of the ship. Grace took a shaky breath, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her hands were clammy, and her legs trembled as the reality of this beast in front of her bore down on her senses.
“You’re a coward, Kilroy!” she shouted with false bravado, surprising herself with the strength in her voice. “Only a brute would threaten a woman and child!”
A roar of laughter answered her from the other side of the door. The momentary silence that followed her words was deafening, broken only by the thrash of rain against the cabin walls and the creak of the ship.
Another crash sent splinters flying, and Grace felt the door begin to give way. She tightened her grip on the sword, lifting it higher despite the ache in her arms. If he came through that door, she would fight, though the very thought made her stomach lurch again.
The door burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the cabin. Kilroy filled the doorway, his hulking frame as menacing as the storm that roared around them. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, fixed on her with deadly intent.
A storm wasn’t much betterthan being becalmed, but they were moving now, at least. Ronan had been manning the helm after seeing Grace back to her cabin when the winds shifted and the first sounds of thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky, only moments before resplendent with celestial brilliance, now darkened to an ominous slate, streaked by bolts of jagged lightning that rent the skies with blinding majesty. Thunder intensified to a menacing growl that rattled the timbers. Then, as if impatient to enter the fight, the wind began to howl with unrestrained fury. Immediately, Ronan called for the entire crew to manage the sails and the rigging.
They had barely reached their posts when it began tearing through the sails with such force that they strained and shuddered under its unyielding onslaught. Waves rose like jagged mountains, then surged and crashed against the hull with a deafening roar, drenching the deck in torrents of painful knife-like brine.
The wheel, slick with rain, demanded all of Ronan’s strength to hold its course, while the crew laboured with all their might to batten hatches and secure lines against the storm’s relentless rage. The crew moved like shadows amidst the chaos, securing lines and shouting commands that were swiftly swallowed by the gale.
