Lena held Rosalie’s hand tightly as they stayed below deck. The sickening sounds of bodies hitting the upper deck made her sick with fear and frustration. Half of her wanted to go up and take a sword to them herself. The other half wanted to shut her eyes and open them again in her bedroom in France, this having all been a frightful nightmare.
Suddenly there was the shot of a pistol, and sudden silence. Another thud of a body. Then the cry of triumph. Some part of her recognized it was not sailors.
There were feet against the stairs and she tightened the cloak around them. But it was altogether ripped off. Helene looked up and connected with two of the darkest eyes she’d ever seen.
From above deck a voice called down, “What’s down there, brother?”