Nicolas nods. “It is punishment for her aiding me last evening. She made the mistake of confronting her uncle about it.”

Jenkins winces. “She has always seen the best in him. It has put us at odds many a time, and I feared if I pushed the matter too hard, it would drive a wedge between us. At least now she will see him for the man he truly is.”

Jenkins looks toward the captain’s quarters. “How should we do this? I am at your disposal, sir. I may not be a duelist, but I do not intend to sit back and allow you to take all the risks.”

“I will ask—”

Nicolas stops as I turn sharply. Lord Thomas has just entered the room, running through the wall.

Lord Thomas sees Jenkins, and his eyes widen. “Oh, no. Oh dear, no. This is terrible.”

I’m sure it is.

“You must tell him to leave,” Lord Thomas says. “He ought not to be here. He cannot fight, and he’ll only be injured, perhaps even killed.”

Ten minutes ago, I would have accepted his concern for what it seems to be—fear that his son-in-law will be harmed. Now I know better. He wants Jenkins gone so that he will not be caught up in this trap. Worse, as Nicolas’s ally, Jenkins might come to his aid and complicate our capture.

I wave for Nicolas to continue as I take Lord Thomas off to one side. I tell him not to fear, that we will keep Jenkins out of danger, but the poor man is determined to help. Could Lord Thomas please keep an eye on Norrington? I presume he has not arrived yet. Lord Thomas should do that while we trick Jenkins into staying safely in the cabin while we rescue Emily.

Lord Thomas agrees and flits off, and once he is gone, we begin. Nicolas has arranged the plan, and I am exceedingly pleased by it, as I am not relegated to the side where I will be safe. Nicolas understands I can do more.

I tug my hair into some disarray. Then I scoop water from the corridor to splash onto my dress. Finally, I hike up my skirts and lurch toward the captain’s quarters, stumbling about the slanted hallway.

“Hello?” I call. “Please. I heard voices. Is someone here?”

“Yes!” Emily calls. “I am—”

An oomph, as if she is physically silenced, and my blood boils at that. The door to the captain’s quarters cracks open, and I fall heavily against the wall, as if in a half swoon.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” I pant as if catching my breath. “Please. Please, you must come help.”

The door stays open only that crack, and I lurch toward it. “Please, miss. I know I heard you in there. I went rowing this morning from Whitby. The young man I was with—” I struggle for breath. “He played me false. He offered a rowing excursion, and the children were so excited that I agreed. Yet the boat was not big enough for the ocean currents, and it has capsized. The children—my charges—oh, miss, the children. I dragged them to shore, but little Millie does not breathe.”