“Oh, we couldn’t.”
“Please do, it is much too large of a house for us not to eat and live together.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll be in the study if you need me, going over the papers. If you see your son could you ask him to let the foreman know that I am here and would like to meet with him tomorrow morning?”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank you.”
As Brant retired to the study he sent James to explore the grounds, of which there was plenty to explore. From what he remembered there was a stable—which had at one time been full of horses, but now more than likely sat abandoned. There was also a cricket field in the back and a patio. An expansive front yard with fruit trees and pathways completed the picturesque landscaping and the two story Spanish plantation house was a work of art all on its own. The estate was cheery and bright, much different from the gothic architecture of the London home James and Brant had grown up in.
That night at dinner with Liza and her children; Sarah and Samuel, James asked Brant if he could have a horse.
“A horse? Whatever for?”
“It will give me something to do while we’re here. There is so much to explore and it would be so much easier to do so on horseback.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“If you want I can look around for a suitable horse for the master,” offered Samuel.
“Thank you, that would be wonderful. I’m afraid I don’t know much of animals. Just ships.”
“We can’t know everything, sir.”
“Please, call me Brant.”
Samuel smiled and nodded. “I went and spoke to the foreman for you today. He said he would be by the house tomorrow morning at seven. Is that good?”
“Perfect. What do you think of the man?”
Samuel blushed a little and looked down, obviously unused to having his opinion asked. “It’s not my place to say—”
“I learned long ago that a smart man listens to the observations of those that see more than him. I’d like to have an idea of the man I’m meeting tomorrow.”
“I think he is good at was he does but perhaps a bit more harsh than necessary. But the men always pull a good crop.”
Brant frowned. He didn’t believe that a strong hand was always best, and if Samuel was right in saying the foreman was harsh there would likely be some changes made in the near future, but for now Brant’s main concern was becoming acquainted with the plantation and everything involved.
“Would you be able to give me a tour of the plantation tomorrow afternoon?”
“Of course. It is best done on horseback but my mother and I each have a horse here that we can make use of.”
After dinner Brant locked himself in the study again to continue looking over the books. Pouring himself a glass of port, he sighed and smoothed out the page he was looking at. Not for the first time today he wished he had paid more attention in class for the short time he’d attended school. It should be a simple task, to figure out where they stood financially. If there was a deficit or a surplus and why, but nothing was simple when what you were looking at looked like a different language.
* * *
Summer on the Foxton estate was different from any other Brant had experienced in Jamaica. He enjoyed watching James return to his childlike innocence. He had noticed that even the ten months on a ship had caused his brother to harden. It went fast when you were surrounded by men who made their living by killing and stealing
It was hot in Jamaica, that was nothing new to Brant, but it was to James who was used to overcast and rainy England. Most days he ran around wearing next to nothing but his breeches. Brant just laughed and enjoyed Liza’s expression of horror. She had quickly adopted James and fussed over him nonstop when he was anywhere near the house—much to James’ dismay. When storms rolled in, they closed themselves indoors and waited out the weather with games and reading. Brant had a family. Gaining command of the BlackFox had given him a sense of accomplishment, but having James back in his life had him feeling like he was starting to put his life together.
This summer, unlike all the others, went quickly and although he was ready to set sail, Brant left the estate with a sense of loss. The men, however, were eager to set sail after a summer of being land locked. Even James was excited to return, evidently the thought of having Liza as a caretaker was more terrifying than swabbing decks and cleaning latrines.
Leaving Port Royale, Brant watched the disappearing shore line and smiled. That island was as close to home as he ever got on land but he was always happy to be back on his beloved ship, back on his beloved ocean.
* * *
James burst into Brant’s cabin, hair disheveled, not even pausing to knock or request permission to enter. Brant was sitting at his desk looking at charts and maps.
“James what have I told you about knocking?” he asked, not looking up.
“We have a problem.”
Brant glanced up and at the sight of his brother’s concerned face, gave him his full attention. “What do you mean we have a problem?”
“On deck.”
Getting up immediately, his chair tipping back precariously before settling back on all four legs, Brant strapped on his cutlass and brace of pistols, following James on deck where he saw the crew standing at the rail all looking in one direction.
“What in blue blazes is going on?”
Everyone looked at Brant but no one responded. “Well? Karl?”
“It seems we’re about to come under attack.”
“By whom?”
“A pirate ship, Cap’n.”
Brant frowned. “Who is it?”
“Looks to be the SeaVulture. Ol’ Richard’s ship. He’s a nasty sort; known for preying on other pirate ships and takin’ all their booty.”
Brant almost smiled when Karl referred to their spoils as booty but he was more concerned about this Old Richard than any of Karl’s quirky words.
“We can outrun him.”
“Aye, we can. Should I give the orders?”
Brant pulled out his eyeglass and shook his head. “No, run up the colors. We won’t be run off by a lowlife pirate.”
“Brant,” Karl replied hesitantly. “Ol’ Richard is known for his cruelty. He will give no quarter if we fall.”
“The men can handle it.”
“You sure?”
“Give the orders.”
Karl nodded and walked away shouting at the men. “Get yer lazy asses to work! Enough lolly gaggin! Run up the colors! Run out the guns! Casper get yer no good sailor’s butt up to that helm and steer this ship for goodness sake! Did ya forget yer job?!”
“Brant?”
“Yes, James?”
James had been standing next to Brant and Karl the whole time, silently listening to the exchange.
“This fight is going to be different, isn’t it?”
“These men are very dangerous and do not have honor like the ships we usually attack. If we fail I want you to jump overboard. You can swim, right?”
“Markus used to take me to the swimming hole in the summer.”
“Good. You will go hide below deck but if any strange men start coming down you find a way off the ship. You find a way overboard.”
“Why overboard?”
“Because, if you pretend to be dead in the water they won’t touch you. Just jump in and lie on a piece of wreckage perfectly still. Can you do that?”
“Yes sir.”
“That’s a good boy. Now go below deck before the fun begins.” Brant smiled a wickedly mischievous smile. As much as he hated the killing aspect of it all, he loved the rush of the fight, and this pirate ship deserved every bit of what was coming from Brant and his men.
“Sir, we’re coming up starboard side. Should I give the orders?” asked Karl.
Brant watched the SeaVulture make its way up beside the BlackFox and gave a nod.
Karl turned to the men lined up on the thirty-six cannons the BlackFox bo
asted. “Fire all cannons!”
The thunderous roar filled Brant’s ears and he smiled. The deck shook beneath his feet but he could see the SeaVulture was under gunned and they just wanted to get close enough to board. That was their game.
“Casper, don’t let them get too close. I want to hurt them, then we’ll make a run for it. That should be enough to get the message across.”
“Aye sir!”
Karl turned to look at Brant. “We aren’t boarding?”
“No. The risk is too high.”
“Aye, I think that be wise.”
Brant watched the continuing battle but it wasn’t long before it was over. The SeaVulture saw they couldn’t inflict enough damage with their lack of firepower and there was no way they were getting close enough to board, so with little options left they turned tail and limped away.
“Should we give chase, Cap’n?”
“Let them go.”
* * *
It wasn’t long before they crossed paths with the SeaVulture again. This time it was pillaging another ship. It was barely afloat and it looked as if Old Richard and his crew had just finished off and as the BlackFox came into view they raised anchor and left.
“There won’t be anything left there for us, Cap’n,” said Joseph, ready to move on to more promising prospects.
“We’ll board anyway. Search for survivors.”
Getting as close as they dared, unsure if it was a trap or not, they dropped anchor and a small boarding crew that consisted of Brant, Karl, Joseph, Harold, Christopher and Geoffrey took a longboat to see what was left. Climbing up a small ladder, they wandered around the destroyed ship. The deck was littered with bodies of men sporting uniforms of the British navy. But the most profound thing was that it was silent, absolutely and utterly silent. Not a single groan of an injured or dying man. Just silence. There was no one left alive in all the carnage.
“Search the hold, cabins, crews quarters, every inch for someone who might be hiding. This ship won’t stay afloat long,” commanded Brant, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him.
The men fanned out, leaving Brant to search the dining room, state room and captain’s cabin. Brant tried the captain’s cabin first but didn’t expect to find anything, nothing alive anyway.
The captain was dead in the middle of the room as were a few men that lacked the presence of a uniform—likely Old Richard’s men. At least the man had put up a good fight.
Leaving the cabin, Brant skipped the dining room and entered the state room. If the ship was carrying passengers they would have been situated here. It had been completely pillaged but it was apparent that the passenger had been a woman. Brant paled at the thought of what could have happened to her. Brant was about to turn and leave but the sound of something rustling and a muffled gasp had him pause.
“Hello?” he paused. “Anyone in here? I mean you no harm. I am a servant of his Majesty the King.”
“If you are a servant of his Majesty than why do you dress like a common pirate?” a woman’s voice sounded from under the bed.
Brant quickly strode over and crouched down, looking under the torn and ripped mattress, making eye contact with a pretty young blonde. “I am a privateer, ma’am. This ship will sink soon, so if you would allow me to assist you I can take you back to my ship and return you to a British outpost.”
The girl shimmied out from under the bed and drew herself to full height, smoothing down her skirts and patting her dishevelled hair. She was tall, thin and held her head high, lacking nothing in self-confidence. “My name is Catherine Marshall and I would be very much in your debt if you would take me to England. I can pay passage.”
Brant bowed low. “Captain Brant Foxton. We will discuss the matter of passage later.”
“Thank you, Captain Foxton. If you don’t mind I will try to collect a few necessities from what those thieves left and I will join you on deck momentarily.”
“Of course, Miss Marshall.”
Brant left the state room and waited for Catherine on deck. His men were already gathered near the rail, a boy, heavily wounded, lay on a makeshift stretcher among them. “Is this all?”
“Yes, Cap’n. We couldn’t find any others. This one has a pulse but he’s passed out. The doc will have to take a look at him, but I don’t have much hope.”
“I found the passenger—she’ll be joining us momentarily. You best load that poor boy into the longboat while I wait for her.”
It was long and laborious work but between the five of them they had the nameless sailor lying comfortably in the bottom of the long boat.
Catherine soon joined Brant on deck and he helped her down the ladder and into the longboat. She hadn’t been able to collect much—whatever had been left had been ruined, but Brant assured her that he had some things in the hold she could go through.
Catherine didn’t speak to the crew at all and they didn’t attempt to approach her. She sat with such an air of self-importance—her petite little nose held high in the air—that she was completely unapproachable. Brant chuckled as he watched her, and was met by a slight frown. So, he could break through her pristine exterior after all. They had a good two months voyage to England and he couldn’t help but think that it would get very interesting unless she learned to relax.
Arriving back at the BlackFox, Brant helped Catherine up the ladder and then men lowered ropes to tie on each corner of the stretcher so that they could slowly raise the injured sailor up.
“James, go tell the doc he has a patient,” instructed Brant as he led Catherine to his cabin. “I’m afraid it’s a small ship and doesn’t have a state room so you can take my cabin. We do, however, have a dining room that I and my higher ranking crew members dine in and you’re more than welcome to join us. I promise they are perfect gentlemen.
“You are a guest among us and are free to wander around as you see fit, but please try to stay out of the men’s way when they are at work.”
“Thank you very much, Captain.”
“My pleasure, Miss Marshall. If you need anything please feel free to ask anyone as they will help you as best they can. And I must apologize in advance, but I may need to make use of my cabin from time to time as my desk and effects are all kept here, but I promise I will do my very best not to invade your privacy.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourself over it, Captain. I’m very grateful to you for helping me.”
Brant left Catherine alone in his cabin and he went to speak with Karl. “Burn the ship,” he said as he approached his quarter master.
“Sir?”
“Burn that ship and then have Casper change our course to London.”
“Yes sir.”
“Is the doc looking at the boy?”
“Aye, but I’ve heard nothing of his condition.”
Brant nodded, he hadn’t expected anything more. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take your cabin for the time being. Are you okay in the crew’s quarters?”
“Aye.”
“Have someone come get me when the doc knows more.”
“Brant, can we afford to take on a passenger all the way to England? We can’t go about our raids with the lady aboard. It wouldn’t be safe for her and it could be dangerous for us as well. The only thing standing between us and a noose is that letter of marque and if she reports bad conduct—”
Brant smiled slightly. “She’s a lady of the court, Karl. She’ll pay passage. It’ll be a tight year but it’s early enough that I believe we can make it back to Port Royale before the worst of the storms roll in. We’ll get a few raids in then, enough to keep the men happy.”
“Pickings are gonna be slim that time of year.”
“I know. But what do you want me to do about it? Leave her out here?”
“No, but we can dock at the nearest British controlled island and leave her with the governor. He can arrange to get her home. It will take less time, Brant.”
“I need to see her safely back.”
&nb
sp; “Confounded chivalry—”
“That’ll be enough, Karl. If you wish to question my decision please speak to me later. We have an audience.”
Many of the men had stopped what they were going about to look at their captain and quarter master and it didn’t sit well with Brant to have such an obvious and public questioning of his authority. He always allowed Karl to speak freely because he had experience and years that Brant did not, but this was too much. “I need to keep the men’s respect, Karl. You are not helping. Now, can you respect my decision?”
“Ach! Brant you always gotta help people but I think tis gonna make it a hard winter for us is all. But yer the Cap’n. You make the decisions and aye, I’ll stand by you.”
“Thank you.”
Brant walked away feeling troubled. It was not often Karl spoke up so vehemently against an order and it had him concerned. Was he going soft? He had a responsibility to his crew to make sure they were fed and provided for as well as had money to get them through the summer. Was he abandoning that responsibility by going to England? Brant shook his head. No. If the men didn’t get enough Brant would pay them from his own pocket. He could afford to do so with his thriving sugar plantation. He had a good crew and he wouldn’t risk losing them but he also had a sense of honor and he needed to see Catherine Marshall home safely.
* * *
Catherine stayed in her cabin for the remainder of the day until she became hungry and decided to venture out and find something to sustain her. She didn’t have to go very far before she ran into a young boy who gave her a charming smile.
“Hello, Miss Marshall. Captain Foxton has asked me to invite you to join him and his men for dinner. They’re in the dining room.”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t give the boy a second look or thought. He was grubby, a mere cabin boy and she fully intended to keep her contact with the crew members to a minimum.
Catherine entered the dining room and the men all stood up around the table. The captain pulled out a chair for her to his right and she seated herself, observing the array of food on the table. It was mostly all things that would keep for some time; potatoes, salted meat and a few pieces of fruit that they must have picked up in their last port.
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