“Been a strange couple months, ain’t it?”
Brant nodded. “That it has.”
“And that Catherine, she be gone now.”
“Yes. She’s home.”
“You gonna miss her?”
Brant laughed bitterly. “What kind of question is that, Karl?”
“Just a question.”
“You and every man on the crew knew what was going on and you ask me if I miss her?”
“You shouldn’t have let it happen, Brant.”
“You’re a little late to give that advice.”
“Yer a grown man. You should have known it couldn’t go nowhere good. She don’t belong in your world and you sure don’t belong in hers.”
“Don’t lecture me about where I belong.”
“Yer looking like you need it cause I’m seeing you go down a dark path because of a woman and I won’t abide for that. Now you need to mourn, then so be it. Cry away because it takes more of a man to admit to his pain than to hide from it. It’s a healing thing. But don’t you dare let this ship suffer because you went on a foolhardy chase after some noble woman.”
“I loved her, Karl.”
“I don’t doubt it, but you didn’t love her enough. Not to give her what she deserved. If I see you going down a dark place, Brant, I swear I gonna hit you hard. Don’t you forget that.”
Brant nodded and held out his hand for the bottle. Karl handed it back to him after he took a swig and Brant took a long drink. “Am I to spend my whole life alone?”
“We all do. Tis cause we already gave our life to the ocean. Me, the crew, this ship, even you… no woman will take us cause they can’t own us, we’ve already given our hearts to the sea.”
Brant sighed and nodded. Getting up, he threw the bottle overboard. “I’m not going to be better overnight, Karl.”
“Aye.”
Brant walked away but looked one last time out to the dark waters. Life would go on even though Catherine was gone. Days would be darker for a time but Brant would crawl out of the hole and become his old self once again, resigned to being alone. But until that day came he would hurt. He would hurt every day until the image of a tall blonde woman standing up on the crow’s nest with her hair blowing in the wind was permanently erased from his mind. But when the day came that she was gone the ocean could have him; heart and soul.
Please enjoy a sneak peak at
Heart Like an Ocean.
Prologue
Spain-1666
Senona looked around the room full of swirling dresses of so many shapes and colors. It was like a dream and left her overwhelmed and unable to tear her eyes away. Tonight she was a princess in her new dress with her hair curled, cascading in loose waves down her back. Tonight she was perfect.
Browsing the room, this time in search of familiar faces, Senona spotted Caton Amador, and Isidro Amato. The boys, although older, were her friends and a welcome relief to the overwhelming nature of her surroundings. She made her way around the perimeter of the room in their general direction.
Isidro was never very serious about anything and enjoyed teasing Senona, which annoyed her to no end. Caton was much more subdued and quiet, at least around her. Although they were not as close as they once had been, the families remained good friends, and the three of them spent many hours riding around the countryside or playing games in the garden. When they were younger, Isidro and Caton had been her constant companions, helping her sneak out of tea with their Madres or rescuing her from lessons with her tutor. Now they never voluntarily saw each other, but due to their families’ relationship, they found themselves together often enough.
“Senona, my Chica! You are a picture of beauty, as always,” boomed Isidro’s obnoxious and teasing voice.
Caton turned to look at the young girl. “Leave her alone, Isidro.”
“Come on, Caton. She’s glad to see us.”
Caton frowned but said nothing, turning his attention back to the pretty girl standing next to him. Isidro seemed to accept that as permission to continue, and he smirked mockingly at Senona, beckoning her. The small flock of girls that surrounded the two boys giggled, causing her to blush and become hesitant and uncomfortable. She had never seen the boys in this environment, and she quickly questioned her decision that she belonged with them.
“It’s okay, Isidro. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Well then, run along. There must be some of your friends around.”
Senona forced a smile and turned to Caton. “Hello, Caton.”
He barely acknowledged her with a brief glance and nod in her direction, and then returned to ignoring her. Unsure of how to deal with Caton’s rejection, she walked away, her eyes burning with angry tears that threatened to spill over. Why was he being so rude? Not even so much as a hello, as if he were embarrassed to be associated with her.
As she pushed her way through the crowd, she heard one of the girls laugh. “Caton, I do believe you hurt her feelings.”
Caton’s deep, unmistakable chuckle cut through the din and his voice was all she heard. “She’s a silly, strange girl. I would rather not encourage her.”
Senona expected this behavior from Isidro, but from Caton? She had always thought he was honest and simple, but his actions tonight had shown her otherwise. She had been a fool to think that these older boys were her friends.
Escaping into the shadows, she hid from the sneering glances and mocking laughter that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She had thought that tonight would be different, but nothing had changed. She was just a strange little girl.
The night was a blur, a blur of swirling skirts and obnoxious voices. To nearly everyone she was invisible. Even her Madre and Padre, who had never been overly affectionate towards their daughter, seemed to have completely forgotten her existence. But that wasn’t so different from normal. They weren’t very affectionate people ever, even towards each other.
At the end of the night, Senona lay in bed, her new dress hanging in her wardrobe, mocking her. She had realised tonight how far she fell from society’s standards, her own parents’ standards. Any illusion she had of being a princess, of being perfect for one night had been shattered. But that didn't really bother her. The truly odd thing was that she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps she didn’t have to be that way. Perhaps now she had the freedom to do as she wanted. It wasn’t as if anyone cared about her anyway. She was just a strange little girl.
Chapter One
Three years later
Spain-1669
Senona looked back hesitantly as she entered the dark stable where her father’s horses were kept. It was the middle of the night; the countryside was quiet as slumber had overtaken everyone and everything around. She was confident that no one had witnessed her escape from the manor, nor would anyone know of her disappearance until morning. That was how she intended it; let them find out the bride had run the night before her wedding. She wouldn’t allow herself to become the trophy wife of an arranged marriage.
She was young, though not so young that she shouldn’t already be married. Nearing her twenties, she could have married anytime within the last three years, though she’d found no suitable match. Being the daughter of Don Marco Montez meant she would not marry just anyone, and her parents’ final decision was with an older, rich, and influential Doctor from Barcelona, Senor Flamez.
Senor Flamez was nearing fifty and widowed not five years earlier. She was to be his second wife, more to help him run his dilapidated household than anything else. Rumor had it that Senor Flamez had allowed things to fall apart after Senora Flamez passed away in childbirth, losing the child along with her. It would be Senona’s job to make the man happy again, provide him with an heir and allow his life to become what it had been in previous years: rich, elegant, and prestigious. How he came to the conclusion that she would be suitable for that role she could not fathom.
Senona was not, by any definition, elegant or humble. She was quick to
anger and didn’t much enjoy doing the domestic duties expected of a good wife. Instead, she could be more often than not found in a pasture or riding along the high cliffs bordering the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Perhaps that was why her Madre and Padre were so pleased to have found her a husband; she would no longer be their problem or embarrassment.
This late at night the horses made very little noise. A few stamped their hooves or rustled the hay; otherwise, the only sound was their breathing. Senona’s horse was a young stallion; a Spanish horse with the best pedigree money could buy. He had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday. Only a young colt then, she had trained him herself and preferred no other horse in her father’s stable over Naldo.
Saddling him quickly and quietly, she shoved the small amount of clothes she had carried from her room into a saddlebag. She hid a bag of doubloons, which she had stolen from her father’s safe, carefully among them. It was a small fortune and would surely have her father’s hounds chasing her as soon as the red sun rose above the horizon. However, she did not plan to be on land by then. She would find a ship where she would be much harder to track. Perhaps, like the romantic stories, she would be able to disappear into the horizon never to be seen again. One could only hope. Yet, as she mounted Naldo and rode him down the road that led to Barcelona, Senona found herself looking back in sadness. Although she had not been happy here, it was her home and this would be the last time she’d ever see it. No longer would she be living the life of comfort that she was accustomed to, no longer would she be secure in her future, and no longer would she be able to wake up every morning without fear or worry. Was she truly ready for this life? Looking forward again she refused to allow herself another glance back. Whether she was ready for this change or not, she had made up her mind, and she would go through with it. As hard and as treacherous as it may be, wasn’t freedom worth it?
Upon first entering Barcelona, the streets were quiet and abandoned. Rich homes and rich families resided here, and they were all in bed at this late hour. However, as she drew closer to the docks, she came across more and more people, none looking very reputable, many giving her looks that made her uneasy. There were still a few safe places near the docks though. The merchant’s quarter housed many rich men, friends of her parents, the Amadors, being only one of them. Senona missed the years when she had been friends with Caton Amador. Age changed things and people, and as a result, friendships slipped away.
Not really knowing where to start, only knowing what her destination was to be, Senona dismounted and led Naldo to the docks in hope that a Captain would be around from whom she could buy passage to Port Royale. There, in a British colony, she would be out of her parents’ reach. She could start a new life.
While the rest of Barcelona was very much asleep, the docks were alive with activity. Music and raucous voices came from the many taverns that lined the docks, all dangerous places that Senor Amador had warned her about many times when taking her on tours of his ships. This was no place for a lady at any time of day, much less in the middle of the night. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she was certain there would be more than a few Captains in these taverns ready and willing to make some extra gold. Finding one who would willingly enter British waters would be a little harder. Pirates and privateers patrolled there, and it’d be even harder to find one who would allow a horse onboard. The few who would have allowed Naldo held to the old sailor’s superstition that having a woman aboard would bring bad luck. This made the task of finding passage more difficult than Senona had expected. Only one Captain, an Englishman, Old Richard, seemed to hold no qualms.
“Port Royale ye say?”
“Si, Senor, are you making port there at all?”
“Just so happens I is. It will cost ye though. It's bad luck for a woman to be onboard, and I ain’t too fond of livestock.”
“How much?” It was never a question of the money to Senona. It was her Padre’s, and its only purpose to her was to get her far away.
“Fifty pieces of eight.”
Senona nodded. “And when do you leave?”
“First light.”
“I’ll give you thirty doubloons to cast off within the next two hours.”
“Two hours, eh? I ain’t barely supplied.”
“Stop at the next port and get your supplies then. I can take my money elsewhere.” Senona spoke with authority and confidence that she did not feel. She had seen her Padre conduct business and knew that if she was to get her way, she had to appear in control. She carefully placed the bag of doubloons on the dirty wood table to illustrate she was able to provide what she promised. Old Richard’s eyes gleamed greedily.
“Aye, two hours and the Sea Vulture shall cast off.”
“I shall see you then, Captain.” She got up and reached for the bag but Old Richard grabbed her wrist. Her eyes narrowed, but she held herself in check. She was in a strange place right now, and it wasn’t a good idea to start any trouble.
“I'll be needing that pay in advance.”
Senona smiled, gently pulling her hand from his grip and counted out the promised coins. “Two hours, Captain. I cannot wait longer than that.”
Senona walked away, leaving the smoky, loud tavern behind a closed door and breathed in the fresh sea air. Naldo was tied to a hitching post only a few feet away, nickering softly in greeting. There was something about that man that made her uneasy, but she was left with little choice. Therefore, as unpleasant as this voyage was going to be, she would have to make the best of it.
In a far corner of the bar, hidden by shadows that the lanterns and candles didn’t quite reach, a man got up and followed the girl out into the dark night. He was tall and moved smoothly from years of practice at walking on rolling ship decks. A brace of pistols and a long cutlass were strapped to his belt.
He had not been blind to the transaction that had occurred between the girl and Old Richard, nor was he oblivious, as she seemed to be, of the danger she was in.
Following her at a safe distance, he waited to see what she would do. There were only a few short hours before she would find out that she had not bought passage but instead sold herself into the white slave market, of which there was plenty of demand and good return. Old Richard was no fool. He had seen how naïve this girl was, and he immediately saw the profit he could make. She had been sheltered, it was apparent by her trust in humanity. Stupid girl, foolish girl. It would serve her right if he just allowed her to continue on her self-destructive path. She thought her life was hard now? Just wait until she started her new life, the life Old Richard chose for her. He couldn’t allow it though. For all his questionable morals, Brant Foxton could not, with clear conscience, allow this girl to fall into the hands of Old Richard.
The girl had led her horse down the docks a little way, but now she chose to stop. Looking around she sat down, looking ready to wait for the next two hours. He studied her and sighed. He was sure he would not be able to trick her into coming onto his ship instead of Old Richard’s, nor would she be so trusting as to accept passage for free. That would raise red flags in her mind. She was not stupid, merely sheltered.
Watching her a while, he became certain she wouldn’t leave. He had less than two hours to get his crew together and leave town. Turning, he left the girl and her horse and walked the short distance to where his ship sat docked. Most of his crew would be away from ship. He had promised them a two day leave and they would be enjoying it. The only souls aboard the BlackFox would be Karl and Matt, taking care of tonight’s watch, and James, the cabin boy, who was likely sleeping soundly below deck. But even with the four of them, that was not enough to sail a ship of the BlackFox's size, nor enough to successfully kidnap a girl at the same time.
Walking aboard, Matt, a young sailor who had been with him for the past three years greeted him. He had proven himself honest, hardworking, and exceptionally skilled as a sailor and had quickly worked his way through the ranks. Matt was the sailing master and
a damn good one. If Karl ever decided to retire, which was unlikely, he was set to take his place as Quartermaster. For now, Brant took advantage of Matt’s exceptional navigation skills.
“Top of the evening to ye, Cap’n.”
“That it is, Matthew. I need you to do something for me.”
Matt, who was sitting near the mast playing a guitar, stopped and nodded. “Yes, sir?”
“There’s a bit of trouble brewing, and I need you to collect the crew. We need to set sail as soon as possible.”
“Militia?”
“No, just some trouble with another Captain. Tell anyone who won’t come that he’ll have to find a new billet. I wait for no man.”
“Yes, sir.” Matt took off without another word.
“Karl!”
An older man stood up by the railing of the upper deck. He stood unsteadily, visibly leaning on the railing for support. “Brant, there'd better be a damned good reason why you're hollering at me at this time of night,” he slurred.
“Karl, is there a reason you’re yelling at your Captain?”
The man slowly made his way down the stairs and approached him. Standing closer than was comfortable, Brant could smell the rum on his breath. “Brant Foxton, you may be Captain but I raised ye from when ye were naught but knee high. I’ll talk to ye however I wish when the crew ain’t around to bear witness.”
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