Black Wolf

by Lori Ann Robinson

  “We had to wait until they were growing bored with you, Captain. Had to wait until they relaxed their watch and were sure no one was coming to your rescue,” the man whispered furtively back as they ducked through trees and vines behind the settlement.

  “You reek,” Nicolai said, trying to stay upwind of the man.

  Cooper laughed. “Couldn’t very well pose as a trapper dressed as a pirate, now could I. It’s the bear fur that smells so foul. I stole it off a dead man I found in the woods. Figured it added to the role I was trying to play. You don’t smell so heavenly, yourself, I’ll add.”

  “They’re not much on bathing prisoners,” Nicolai quipped in return.

  Following his quartermaster through the dense forest toward the encampment where his men lay in wait for their arrival, Nicolai swatted at the buzzing insects that bit any part of exposed flesh. Naturally the Spaniards would pick the dirtiest, wettest, most miserable area to colonize.

  He heard Stiles give an impressive imitation of a night owl. Listening quietly, Nicolai heard the returning call signaling that all was well. Motioning him forward, Stiles parted the thick sawgrass they trudged through, revealing close to thirty of his men. All were grateful to see their captain though there was no time for celebration.

  Gathering up his crew, they once again cut through the woods, circumventing the settlement and coming out on to the beach below the port where the Spanish Galleons were docked as well as his own ship which the Spaniards had seized along with Nicolai.

  These colonists had to either be overly confident in their ability to defend their territory or imbeciles, because from where Nicolai and his crew observed, the wharf was patrolled, but the ships were not.

  Quietly, the men converged on the guards, cutting them down with their swords before any alarm could be given that their prisoner was free.

  They boarded the Chameleon without incident and Nicolai cut through the ties holding the ship to the wooden dock below. Allowing the tide to pull them backward from port, he steered the boat out of the harbor and into the night.

  “Your plan will take days,” Nicolai growled as he sat across the table from Damon and Cooper as the quartermaster confided his idea for the rescue of both Raul and Adrienne.

  “We have no other choice, Nico,” Damon said. “We barely got you out of that Spanish gaol. Had they not been so moronically confident that no one would bother their town or their ships, we never would have succeeded. We made them look like the fools. They’re going to want retribution for that. Every Spanish Galleon is going to be on the lookout for the Chameleon. Since there’s no way to avoid sailing up the Florida coast, our plan makes the most sense. We’ve got to disguise the ship and the only way to do that is to dry dock it, as Cooper suggested.”

  Their plan would entail beaching the ship along the uninhabited stretch of beach in Cuba. The Spanish had long ago laid claim to this territory but the majority of it remained vacant wild lands. With all of its little coves, it would make for the perfect hiding spot. Holing up in one would enable his men to paint the Chameleon the standard colors of any HMS ship.

  As the New Spain settlement in Florida was still small as yet, the Spanish Galleons guarding the colony and territory would be hesitant to fire on an English vessel. Especially one that appeared to be carrying trade goods. If Cooper and Damon were correct, Nicolai would be able to sail his ship right past the harbor he’d just absconded from.

  It would take at least a week of the men working around the clock to get the ship painted and allow for the drying time necessary before it could be waterborne again. It was a three-day sailing trip, if the weather cooperated, to reach the Charleston port.

  He was desperate to collect Adrienne and Raul; however, Cooper’s idea had merit and would ensure they made it to the Carolina colony without mishap.

  Reasoning it all out in his mind, he knew he had to agree. Factoring the time it would take them to get to Cuba, disguise the ship and sail for the Carolinas, Nicolai surmised they were looking at the better part of two weeks in total. He let out a growl of frustration as he attempted to decide if he was willing to wait that long to regain his family.

  The two had been gone from Nassau for nearly three months. Everything in him was driven to take his chances and storm the port, even if that meant being chased the entire way by a fleet of angry Spanish ships and laying waste to every inhabitant of Charleston just to take back what was his. That said, he would do neither his woman nor his boy any service if he were caught and hanged before reaching them, or if he led his own enemy right to the pair he was trying to protect. Cooper’s idea would assure they were invisible and would allow Nicolai to slip into the village without raising suspicion. He would have his woman and his boy and be gone from Charleston, no one the wiser.

  “Make the necessary arrangements and inform the men. Make them well aware that we work quickly and efficiently on this task without sparing a moment for anything other than food and rest,” Nicolai ordered grimly.

  Chapter 12

  Adrienne bided her time over the course of the next few days. When she was able to rise and move without pain, she began to plan her escape.

  Miles had been unusually present since the night he’d caused her miscarriage. It wasn’t that he was being kinder, but perhaps seemed to realize he’d gone too far in the severity of her punishment. As a result, though he didn’t apologize, he did bring her food and drink while she laid bed bound, watching carefully to ensure she ate well.

  Adrienne suspected some of his newly found concern was due to Goodwife Kinnon silently admonishing him from the corner where she sat knitting, for the trespasses against his wife. Puritan women submitted to their men as the Bible dictated, but they were masterful at giving withering glances, which effectively communicated what their mouths never said.

  Goodwife Kinnon was also the wife of the head councilman and Miles wouldn’t have dared be harsh with the woman for fear of angering her husband. Adrienne had also overheard Miles explain to the Goodwife that Adrienne’s bruises and miscarriage were caused by a fall down the stairs. It was evident the older woman didn’t believe his story, but it wasn’t for one to question what went on in another’s home.

  Just when Adrienne thought she’d never truly have a moment without her husband or Goodwife Kinnon hovering over her every move, fortune smiled. Seeing Adrienne recovering enough to be on her own, the Goodwife packed up her knitting supplies and left. Miles was due to an Alderman meeting that evening to discuss the ever-changing ordinances of a growing colony and would be gone possibly until the wee hours of the morning as the discussions were apt to run late. What was a headache for him and his counterparts because of bickering between deciding officials was a boon for Adrienne. He left but not before telling her he expected her to resume her normal duties the following morning.

  Taking nothing but the clothing on her back, Adrienne exited the house quickly after she was sure he was gone and made her way to the stable. Ducking low under the cover of night, she whispered out for Raul. The small boy slowly walked toward her from where he was securing the livestock for the evening.

  “Come,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “We’re leaving here this instant.”

  The boy didn’t question as he slipped his smaller hand into hers. They stuck to the shadows until they reached the harbor, which was for the most part quiet in the evenings.

  No one saw them while Adrienne led Raul past ships, looking for one that might be bound for departure as soon as the morning. Towards the end of the port, she spied one ship, which was busily loading cargo. It had two gangplanks, one forward and one aft. Sneaking up the aft gangplank, she and Raul crept along the stacked crates on the port side stern.

  Keeping close to the rail, they made it below deck and into the hold of the vessel with no one the wiser. Adrienne found a small alcove that was well hidden by large wooden crates. She and Raul climbed into it and huddled together as the crew brought more cargo into the hull, situatin
g it forward from where they hid.

  They fell asleep that way though Adrienne woke when she felt the ship began to move. She breathed a sigh of relief though she had no idea how much time had passed since they’d chosen their hiding spot.

  If the sun was already up, it was impossible to tell in the dark confines of the hold, Miles would already know they were gone and would be searching for them. Because the ship was moving, Adrienne was filled with hope. It meant no one was searching this particular vessel for the two stow-a-ways. Secure in that knowledge, she closed her eyes and slept some more.

  Raul tugged at her sleeve, his dark brown eyes begging silently. Adrienne ran a hand over his short black hair in understanding.

  “I know little one,” she soothed through parched lips. “I’m hungry and thirsty too.”

  Their situation was growing desperate. They’d been in the hold for two days with no food or water. Adrienne contemplated leaving their hiding place in search of something for the boy to eat or drink but was so afraid of being discovered, fear kept her in place. She wasn’t aware of what kind of ship they’d stowed away on and she had no idea if the captain and crew would take kindly to a woman and a run away slave boy hiding within the hull of their vessel.

  He tugged again, this time tears shimmering in his eyes.

  “Stay here,” she whispered, realizing she would have to take the risk. “Do not move for any reason.”

  Shifting her body onto all fours, she crawled from the alcove. Her limbs and joints, having been cramped for two days in the small area behind the crates, protested at finally being used.

  Standing, she pressed herself against the crates as she peered around them into the darkness of the ship’s hold. There were a few lanterns scattered here and there but only one or two were lit. It wasn’t much light but enough for to know no one was down there keeping watch over the cargo.

  Squeezing out from between the crates, she crept along the passageway. Her legs were unsteady from lack of use and unprepared for the sway of the sea under them. She staggered a little and bumped into a wooden column; grateful it wasn’t one of the stacked chests, which sat around on either side of the aisle. Righting herself, Adrienne tiptoed toward the stairwell, careful to stay close to the wall.

  A seamen passing by had her ducking her head back into the darkness of the hold’s stairway until he was gone. Emerging from the corridor leading down to the bowels of the ship, Adrienne moved quietly until she found the mess hall. It was empty though she could smell food cooking in the galley.

  Sneaking carefully through the room, she looked into a doorway to see the ship’s cook and his kitchen assistant turning meat over a spit and stirring something in a large kettle. Her stomach growled so loudly she was certain they’d hear it but they continued their conversation without knowledge of her presence.

  “Come help me with the sacks of potatoes. We’ll need them for the stew,” the galley master said to the younger man. The two disappeared through a narrow doorway and Adrienne saw her chance.

  Lifting her outer skirt, she filled the makeshift pouch with a few apples and pieces of sliced bread. Eyeing the meat longingly, she knew she’d never have enough time to carve off a slice before being discovered and surely a hunk of venison missing from the haunch would alert the crew that something was amiss. She grabbed a small leather flask hanging on a peg that had a small amount of moisture seeping through and slung it over her neck. She didn’t know what it contained but it would serve to wet her and Raul’s dry mouths.

  As quickly as she was able, she made her way back down to the hold, narrowly avoiding being spotted as the crew milled around the lower areas below deck. Descending the stairs, she crept back to her hiding area and crawled into the alcove next to Raul.

  Adrienne handed him an apple and hunk of the bread, her heart aching as she watched him tear voraciously into the food. He was thin enough as it was because Miles had refused to allow the slaves he owned to eat anything other than table scraps. As it was in those cases, the older slaves got the larger portions of the scraps, while Raul was left with little more than thin broth, crusts of bread or pieces of gristle if he was lucky enough to get meat. The animals her husband owned were better fed than his servants. This was probably the first meal the boy had since leaving Nicolai’s home that he didn’t have to fight someone over.

  “Slow down, Raul,” Adrienne cautioned. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

  She bit into an apple and relished the sweet texture and juice. Her body was starved for moisture of any kind and soaked up the fruit’s essence like a sponge. Helping herself to a piece of bread she had to remind herself to eat slowly. Her stomach was already feeling full after just a few bites, it had shriveled so.

  The boy didn’t listen and within moments, she heard him give a low moan as he clutched his middle. He opened his mouth and vomited the contents of his stomach into her lap. With no way to clean either of them up or to dispose of the sticky, watery mess, there was no choice but to sit in partially masticated apples and bread. Adrienne’s own gag reflex worked as the smell of vomit invaded her nose, but she swallowed it back.

  An hour later, she allowed Raul small bites of bread only, making sure he chewed it thoroughly before handing him another piece she’d torn off her own hunk. Twisting the cork from the flask she’d procured, she took a long drink to discover it was wine rather than water. She allowed Raul to sip from the watertight container as well, though after a few drinks, the fermented liquid made her head dizzy.

  By the end of the third day, they felt safe enough to leave their hiding area to move further back into the hold. She’d discovered an old chamber pot tucked into a far corner and they both made use of it before returning to their alcove. She never knew if it was day or night as it was always dark in the hull, but it mattered little. They were free of Miles and no matter where they were headed on this vessel; it had to be better than from whence they came.

  The muffled sound of men shouting and scuffling above their heads woke Adrienne with a start. She heard the sound of chains hitting the side of the ship as the noise reverberated down through the wooden walls to reach them in the hull.

  The sounds were growing louder, more heated and she heard heavy thuds. Terror gripped her as she realized they were being boarded. Instinct as well as fear made her worry that somehow, some way, Miles had found them. Unable to cower in her hiding spot, she sat Raul aside giving him strict instructions not to move while she tiptoed closer to the stairwell, which would afford her at least a better hearing of what was transpiring above deck.

  No one was about so she risked moving through the ship until she reached the hatch that led to the upper decks. Sunlight streamed through the portal as she watched feet dancing furiously in feints and parries as swords clanged.

  Curses and yells accompanied metal striking metal. A man fell just at eye level with where she hid, his eyes sightlessly staring back at her as a wide slash mark decorated his throat. Blood poured from the mortal wound, traveling toward her face. Adrienne covered her mouth so that her cry would not be heard.

  “Search the hold,” she heard a deep baritone call out. “I want to know what they’re transporting. Everything is fair game once we dispatch the crew, so see to the task and prepare for your captain’s arrival.”

  The fighting escalated and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the deck was like beats of a distant drum as one by one the crew that overtook the ship murdered those of the vessel they’d boarded. At the last hollow thud of a body hitting the deck, the silence was deafening in comparison to the loud battle, which had ensued only moments ago. Heavy boot steps echoed overhead, moving in her direction. Adrienne quickly backtracked towards the hold.

  Hands grabbed her when she was nearly to the corridor that led to the bottom of the ship.

  “What have we here?” A gruff voice asked as the hands spun Adrienne around just at the entryway to the hull.

  The man’s blackened teeth were the first thing she saw as
her eyes traveled over his shaved head which was covered by a red scarf. He was hairy on his face and chest, reeking to high heaven of unwashed body and stale spirits. Adrienne had to fight not to vomit in his face as she stared up into bloodshot, hardened eyes.

  “The captain will be pleased to make your acquaintance, m’lady,” the man said with a cruel twist of his lips. “As will the rest of the men.”

  He pulled her along with him above deck though she resisted, attempting to tug free of his grip.

  “Turn me loose, you bastard,” she shrieked at him. “I’ll tear out your eyes, if you don’t turn me loose this instant.”

  The man laughed at her, his fellow pirates joining along with him at her threats. Giving her a hard shove, he threw her into the bodies of those that stood around on the blood soaked deck, littered with dead crew. Hands groped and squeezed and she delivered a stinging slap to someone who pinched her bottom.

  “I’ll plunge my hands down your scurvy ridden throats and tear out your hearts,” she cried out, fingers hooked into claws. She swiped at one but missed when another pulled her backwards into his chest.

  Adrienne was busy trying extricate herself from the hands of the three men who were attempting to grope her; so busy that she didn’t realize the rest of the crew had gone silent.

  When the eyes of one pirate she was scuffling with peered past her, his hands dropped from the hold he had on her shoulders as if he was burned from the contact. Adrienne turned to see what diverted the man’s attention and was stunned at the scene before her.

  Her gaze traveled from a high-heeled booted foot, which found purchase on the wooden railing of the deck, up to voluminous skirts, and a leather bodice covering a linen low cut blouse. Dark curls spiraled over full breasts, a long slender neck, leading to the face of one of the most beautiful women Adrienne had ever seen.

  Jet black eyes glittered under a tri-corn hat as a lemur monkey sat on the woman’s shoulder. Holding out her arms, two pirates came forward, lifting the woman from the rail. They set her gracefully down upon the deck where she doffed her cap and swept downward in a low, flourishing bow before she cocked arrogant grin towards Adrienne.