Read Online Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall - Free Book Online Page A

stormed the deck with all the confidence and courage of a man born to lead, his crew close on his heels awaiting his commands.
    â€œHaul foresheets to the wind!” he bellowed, and seconds later the ship lurched and sped on its way.
    A gust of hot air struck Grace, bringing with it the smell of salt and wood and the sweat of the crew as they readied for battle. Managing to pry her shoes loose from the deck, she crept toward the companionway just as the air reverberated with the thunder of guns. Streams of dark gray smoke spurted from the Avenger’ s hull as the ship sped by their larboard quarter. Grace braced herself for the impact of their broadside. But instead of the jarring crunch of wood, the snap of coiled lines, and the screams of the injured, only hollow splashes met her ears.
    â€œBring her about, Mr. Thorn!” the captain shouted, planting his hands upon his waist and staring at the enemy as if they were naught but a temporary annoyance.
    The ship yawed widely to starboard, and Grace flung herself against the mainmast to keep from tumbling across the deck. She gripped the rough wood. Splinters jabbed her tender skin. Above her, the sails clapped as loud as a cannon blast. Sailors darted around her, some jumping into the ratlines with muskets in hand, others hauling shot to the various guns positioned about the deck. Curses filled the air and took flight on the wind, burning her ears, but the men took no notice of her.
    As Le Champion veered on her tack, the Avenger slipped from Grace’s sight. She lifted a silent prayer that the ship had slunk away in cowardice. But no such luck. The threatening red sails appeared again on the horizon like bloated demons flying through the sky. In minutes, the ravenous schooner swooped down upon Le Champion’ s lee quarter with her rigging full of men and white foam salivating over her bow.
    â€œThey hope to board us.” Captain Rafe chuckled. Doffing his coat, he laid it over the capstan and rolled up his sleeves as if he were commencing a day’s work. The sash strapped about his waist whipped upon the gleaming metal of his rapier, whose pommel he now gripped with a tight fist.
    â€œLoad the swivels,” he shouted. “And arm yourselves with hand grenades, men.”
    A furious rumble filled the air, and Grace clapped her hands over her ears. Small shot from the Avenger’ s swivel guns whistled through Le Champion’ s shrouds, ripping holes in her canvas and sending the sailors into a frenzy.
    Grace threw a hand to her throat to still her chaotic breathing then swept a gaze over the deck for injured men. But she saw none. Thank You, Lord.
    â€œStrike their rigging only,” the captain ordered.
    Before her eyes could locate him, Mr. Thorn shouted, “Fire!” and the air was set aquiver with the roar of guns.
    Sooty smoke blasted over Grace, stinging her eyes and nose. She gasped for air, then peered through the haze. The men aboard the Avenger staggered back beneath the onslaught and made haste for the stern of their ship. Their captain stood by the helm, spewing a string of unending commands.
    The Avenger continued on its tack, cruising by Le Champion, its occupants scurrying back and forth across the deck like ants upon an upturned anthill.
    Rafe nodded to Mr. Thorn, who in turn yelled to a man standing at the entrance to the companionway. “Fire the crossbar!” A second later, a gun exploded in a thunderous boom that shook Le Champion from truck to keelson. Grace squeezed her eyes shut, fearing the ship would be rent apart by the force.
    A massive crunch filled the air, followed by the eerie snap of wood.
    A shout of victory ensued, and Grace opened her eyes to see the rigging upon the main and top mizzen sails of the Avenger fold into a tangled mass of rope and spar. Without their mainsail, the Avenger groped listlessly through the sea. Their captain charged toward the stern as if he would jump the distance