Captain of My Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Y’know, Liam, I’ve been thinking . . .
Maybe I ought to give the bowsprit a bit more steeve. Other than
that, I think she’s going to be perfect. Sharp in the topsides
around the bow, lean in the stern, and lots of rake in both. Not
only will our new privateer be as swift as the wind, she’ll sit so
low in the water that her profile will be all but invisible from a
distance! And with this hull shape, she’ll be perfect for
windward sailing, and we’ll be able to carry a greater press of
sail, even flying topsails and topgallants if we’ve a mind to—”
    “Brendan—”
    “Too little beam and she’d be fast but
unstable. Too much and she’d be a laggard. Too fine at bow and
stern and we’d sacrifice weight-carrying ability fore and aft. That
means guns, Liam! And in a privateer, that won’t do, now,
will it?” Beyond Annabel’s desperate bowsprit the sunset
smeared the sky in brilliant tones of red and purple, reflecting
against the water as it changed from sea-chop to rippling cat’s
paws of current. In the distance, Newburyport was coming into view.
“Ah, Liam, if we had this schooner right now, we’d leave that beast
back there lumbering in her own bow-wake. If we had the
schooner—”
    “Dammit, Brendan, we’re not goin’ t’ have a
schooner if ye don’t put down those bloody drafts and listen t’
me! It’s Crichton!”
    Brendan glanced up, his eyes alight with
mirth, and his mouth set in that same quirky grin that was as
reckless now as it had been when he and Liam had spent their
childhoods exploring the rocky shores of Connaught. It was a grin
that was sure to drive poor Liam mad. “So anyhow, I’ve decided that
if I have this Ashton fellow build her exactly to my
specifications, ninety feet on deck, with a beam of twenty-three
feet—”
    Dead astern, the frigate’s sails shook and
boomed as she leaned over onto a new tack, the guns that stabbed
from her forecastle glinting blood-red in the setting sun.
    “—and with a draught of just under ten
feet—Faith, Liam, will you please let go of my sleeve?”
    “But it’s Crichton!”
    “I know it’s Crichton, and I imagine
I’ve known so for a sight longer than you have, given the fact you
were boozing it up belowdecks for the better part of the afternoon.
I also know there’s a squadron behind him and Sir Geoffrey Lloyd’s
flag on the seventy-four. Three years ago that was my ship,
remember? And Sir Geoffrey my admiral?” He grinned, as
though the memories brought him no pain, and glanced around Liam’s
brawny shoulder. “A point more a-larboard, Mr. Keefe! Aim her right
toward that big tree sticking up above the others.” Dropping his
gaze to the drafts once more, he added conversationally, “They call
that the Beacon Oak, Liam, because it’s a landmark to guide
mariners in from the sea. In his letter, Ashton said to watch for
it—”
    “If ye don’t get yer head out o’ the clouds
and stop thinkin’ of that bloody schooner, none of us’ll live long
enough t’ see her built, let alone sail her!”
    “Now, Liam.” Brendan elevated one eyebrow and
gave his friend a patient look. “My head is not in the
clouds, but set properly atop my shoulders, just where it should be
and just where I intend it to remain. Faith and troth, I do wish
you would all stop pestering me so.”
    “But yer leadin’ him straight into the
river!”
    “Precisely.” He grinned. “Now, stop worrying,
would you? Do you see me worrying? Faith! Newburyport’s a rebel
town, Liam; they simply despise the British. Not only did they
stage their own tea party four years ago, they’ve even sunk a pier
and some old hulks across the mouth of this river just to keep them
out. Hidden, of course, but combined with the currents and shifting
sandbars just beneath this placid-looking surface, I do believe one
of them will stop Crichton.”
    “One o’ them’ll stop us! Ye haven’t
the foggiest idea where yer goin’! Ye’ve never been up this