A Brother's Honor by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online Page A

forward, then gasped, “Cookie!”
    The short man waved her to silence as he looked fearfully over his shoulder. Wiping blood from a cut on his face, he whispered, “Abigail, can you swim?”
    â€œSwim?”
    â€œAnswer me!”
    â€œYes, but why? Are Father’s men losing?”
    â€œWe ain’t winning or losing, but we gotta lose. Most of our lads are cornered below.” He cursed vividly. “St. Clair is smarter than any of us guessed.”
    â€œYou should have asked me,” she said tautly. “If just one of you had dared to trust me, I could have told you that Dominic is no fool.”
    â€œI thought Woolcott was the wiser of the two.”
    â€œWoolcott?” She stared at him in disbelief. “Even Father said more than once that Woolcott thinks himself far better a sailor than he truly is.”
    â€œCap’n Fitzgerald said that?” He cursed.
    â€œWhy didn’t you trust me? Now the French will kill all of us.”
    Cookie shook his head. “They won’t get a chance. They’ve gone mad!”
    â€œThey? The French?”
    â€œOur lads. Woolcott is gonna destroy the Republic. ” He seized her shoulders. “Get off the ship.”
    â€œOff the ship? How?”
    â€œSwim!” He ran out the door.
    Abigail called out his name as she heard him bolt the door again. Was he mad? He had ordered her to leave, then relocked the door.
    She looked at the bank of windows over her bed. Climbing onto the bed, she peered out, not at the water, but at an unmoving line on the horizon. Land! Land was no more than a half mile away.
    But that land must be England. If she tried to swim ashore here, she would be among enemies. She shivered again. She might not have to worry about reaching England. In the water, she would be a tempting target for every sharpshooter on the deck. Then she remembered what Cookie had said. The fight was belowdecks. Cookie had risked his life to bring her this warning. She could not ignore it.
    The deck shuddered as an explosion shook the ship. She fell, hitting her knees hard on the floor. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed the chair. She flung it through the windows. Clambering onto the bed, she used her pillow to clear away the claws of glass.
    Gingerly, she put her foot on the sill. She stared at the black waters below. As she tensed to jump, she heard a yowl behind her.
    â€œDandy!”
    He skittered away to hide between the wall and the floorboards, frightened.
    Taking a calming breath, she knelt. “Dandy! Come here, boy. Good kitty. Pretty kitty.”
    Slowly, too slowly, the gray cat eased out, pulling back as another blast resonated through the ship. She could not leave Dandy to be killed. She grabbed his front paws and pulled him into her arms. He snarled his outrage, but she ignored him as she scrambled onto the bed.
    The ship quaked violently again, and her shoulder slammed into the wall. Spitting a curse that would have reddened her aunt’s face, she knelt and leaned out the window. If she dropped the cat too close to the ship, he could strike the stern.
    Her sleeve ripped, and fire ran along her arm. When Dandy’s teeth clamped on her thumb, she yelped with pain and shouted, “This is for your own good!” She tossed him into the night. It seemed to take forever until he splashed into the water, although these windows were not far above the waves.
    Praying the soft sound had not been heard, Abigail took a deep breath. Now it was her turn. She would—
    Her arm was seized, jerking her back from the window. “Dominic, let me go!”
    â€œSo you call for that Frenchie from your bed?” growled a voice she did not recognize.
    But she recognized the man’s face, even though blood ran from several cuts on his forehead. Woolcott! The leader of this mutiny!
    Trying to tug away, she cried, “Let me go!”
    â€œSo you can run back to your Frenchie lover?”
    â€œHe is