Desperate to see how much had been completed, she stepped up onto the ladder that was propped against the side and peered over the rail. Unlike on a conventional boat, the deck was completely enclosed. There was just one funnel-shaped opening in front of the main mast, with a hatch to allow entry inside.

“I’m taking a closer look,” she whispered down to Wylde. He nodded, steadying the ladder for her, and she clambered onto the deck and peered down into the workings of the beast.

The inner chamber was around six feet square and curved on either side like a barrel, following the shape of the ship. She could just make out the twisted shapes of various pipes, handles, and levers in the gloom.

“It looks almost complete,” she called, her head still down the hatch. Wylde’s body brushed hers as he crouched beside her, and she bumped the back of her head as she jolted in shock. His nearness made her quivery, as if snakes coiled in her belly.

“There’s the handle and crank for the anchor,” she muttered, “and the bilge pump. Those other controls must be for the letting in of water or air for ballast and flotation.”

Wylde’s gravelly voice sounded directly behind her. “Have you ever noticed the preponderance of double entendres in maritime terminology? It seems to me there’s an alarming number of hand pumps, cocks, and screws.”

Georgie stifled an unladylike snort. “I’ve never really thought about it.” She brought her head back up, and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“I mean, bilge pump? I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds filthy.”

She rolled her eyes. “That is so—”

A shrill whistle interrupted whatever she’d been about to say.

“Shit,” Wylde said. “Someone’s coming.” He nodded at the hatch. “Quick. Get in there.”

Chapter 27.

Georgie didn’t waste time arguing. Someone was already scrabbling at the front door, trying to put a key into the lock. Panic filled her as she lifted her arms above her head and dropped down into the darkened hull.

She fell back onto her bottom just as Wylde slipped in beside her. He banged her head with his elbow as he closed the hatch, and the scant light shut off abruptly. Without a word, he tugged her down so they were both lying prone, squashed together like two sardines packed in a jar.

She hardly dared breathe. Above her frantically beating heart, she could hear muffled male voices and the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. Oh, God. They were bound to be discovered.

Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the semidarkness. Thin bands of light filtered in between the unsealed horizontal planks and through the one tiny porthole at the front of the funnel. She could just make out Wylde’s profile, tiger-striped and shockingly close, as he brought his index finger up to his lips in an unnecessary signal for quiet.