.jpg)
On the eighth day, we finally saw Florida, her coast warm and welcoming to weary sea travelers. That wasn’t what had us out of sorts, though.
Coming into the bay, getting ready to dock, what was left of the Adelina’s crew stood on deck, examining the magnificent man of war floating atop the water, great red crosses marking her sails.
“Is that it?” John asked in an undertone, eyeing the vessel suspiciously.
“Aye,” Tristan confirmed, taking my hand as we looked on. “The Order’s crown ship. I’ve only seen her once before.”
Victory. Its name shone out in golden letters across her backside, gleaming in the hot sun reflecting off the water.
“Ye mean to tell me,” Bell said, “that ye’ve had access to a war ship this whole time and never thought to use it?”
“I didn’t have access to it. I imagine I won’t now, either,” Tristan replied curtly. “The Grand Master is the only one with the authority to send out any of the ships the Templars control.”
“I think it’s safe to say that he was alarmed by your message and the events going on,” I spoke dumbly, not knowing what else to say.
“Do we just . . . go aboard, then?” Smith asked nervously. “They won’t arrest us for being pirates?”
“It’s a Templar ship, not a government ship!” one of the others hissed.
“Aye,” Tristan said, silencing them all. “We’ll just go aboard and see what they mean to do.”
“Will they let me on?” I asked, giving our hosting crew the stink eye over my shoulder.
“Yer my wife,” he laughed. “They’ll have to if they want me to come.”
“We’re all very grateful ye made up, by the way,” John said offhandedly. “Except now we sleep in fear of waking up to yer lovemaking instead of yer crying.”
The men laughed and I blushed as Tristan waved them away. “No shore leave,” he said sternly. “We all go on together as soon as we can.”