“I-I need passage h-home m-most desperately, and I was t-trying to f-find a ship that w-would be s-sailing fairly s-soon to t-the Carolinas. W-would you happen to k-know of such a vessel?”
“The Mirage, for one,” the toothless one replied without hesitation. “She be sailin’ under the command o’ Cap’n Sullivan. I’m his cabin boy.”
“And w-where m-may I find th-this Captain S-Sullivan?”
Moon twisted slightly and jabbed a thumb toward a tavern from whence a wedge of light streamed into the misty darkness. “The cap’n’s takin’ vittles at that there alehouse.”
A mixture of relief and trepidation washed over Cerynise as she saw where he pointed. She was greatly heartened that her search would be shortened, but dreadfully afraid of entering such a place, for she was not so naive as to believe that sailors only wanted to imbibe in strong libations after reaching port. They would be looking for more lively entertainment, the kind that Sybil was probably well versed in providing. “I d-don’t s-suppose you w-would consider taking me to see h-him, w-would you?”
Moon cocked his head thoughtfully as he considered her bedraggled appearance. He wouldn’t normally have bothered himself for a stranger, but this young girl had evidently fallen on hard times and was suffering severely from the miserable conditions. Then, too, she had a gentleness about her that quickened a long-dormant gallantry within him. “I su’pose I could, seein’s as how ye’re gonna freeze ta death if’n ye stay out here much longer.”
“A-aren’t you c-cold, too?”
Moon rubbed a crooked forefinger beneath his hooked nose and snickered. “Not with me innards feelin’ all nice an’ warm from rum.” Leaning close enough to taint the air that she breathed with a strong aroma of the brew, he beckoned with a sweep of his arm. “This way, girlie.”
Cerynise stumbled along behind him as he tottered unsteadily toward the beacon of light. Upon entering the tavern, she stayed just inside the door while Moon made his way toward the back of the crowded establishment. The din that filled the place made her cringe. Sailors were shouting for service, banging their tankards insistently upon heavily planked tables, while others were talking at the top of their voices in an attempt to be heard over the discord. A few were guffawing uproariously as they made a game of pinching or slapping the bottoms of every serving girl who passed. A small handful of others were muttering in low tones as they idly caressed the strumpets who had nestled near. Carefully averting her eyes from the latter, Cerynise scanned the crowded room for Moon.
The tar was leaning over the hefty shoulder of a man who sat at a table wolfing down food, and though she saw Moon’s lips moving, she couldn’t hear a word he said above the noise. Cerynise could only assume that it was none other than Captain Sullivan to whom he was speaking. The man was well past two score years with an unruly thatch of graying hair, bushy side-whiskers and a chin stubbled by bristles. He not only resembled a pirate, he seemed as prosperous as one as he flashed a weighty purse and silently bade a serving wench to fetch another pitcher of ale for the men at his table. Finally he glanced around at the tar and inclined his head in a brief nod.
Moon came scurrying back to Cerynise with a broad, toothless grin. “The cap’n’ll hear what ye has ta say now, girlie.”
Barely had Cerynise entered the human maze through which the tar had passed ahead of her than a hand reached out to seize her. With a gasp she managed to sidestep the seaman who grinned back at her with teeth blackened with rot.
“Eh, mates, what’s this the rain’s washed in?” he cried with a chortle, bringing his companions’ attention to bear upon her. “A drowned rat, if’n I e’er saw one.”
“Gor! Don’t look like no rat ta me!” another exclaimed lustily as he caught her cloak and whipped it free of her shoulders, in the process breaking one of the ties that secured it. His eyes steadily brightened into a leer as they swept the soaked gown she wore beneath. “A bit soppin’, al’right, but a real looker, she be!”
“Keep yer foul hands ta yerself, ye horny toad!” Moon snarled, stepping back to cuff the man. “Don’t ye knows a liedy when ye sees one?”
“A liedy?” the tar repeated with a sharp hoot of disbelief. “In here? Oo’s ye tryin’ ta bamboozle, Moon?”
“Ne’er ye mind!” the ancient tar snarled, snatching the lady’s cloak from the man. “I can sees for meself ye ain’t ne’er eyed a liedy afore in yer whole bloomin’ life an’ wouldn’t knows one if she stuck ye in the eye!”
The resulting laughter of those sitting near enough to overhear the insult made her erstwhile admirer glower in bruised resentment. “Oh, I seen ’em al’right, but their sort ain’t o’ a mind ta be seen in a place like this.”
“Well, ye’re seein’ one in here now,” Moon retorted.
“A bitch, more’n likely,” the sailor grumbled and, having issued that slur, turned his back upon the pair.
Lanterns flickered dully at the edge of Cerynise’s blurring vision. She blinked several times as an invading weakness threatened to undermine her resolve. Only by sheer dint of will did she manage to make her way to Captain Sullivan’s table. Moon hurriedly swept around a chair for her to sit beside his captain, and she gratefully accepted his provision, for she seriously doubted that she could have stood much longer on her own.
“Moon says ye’re wantin’ passage on me ship,” Captain Sullivan began, his keen dark eyes sweeping slowly downward from the long hair that hung in wet strands around her face until they reached the muddied hem of her gown. As pretty as she was and as costly as her drenched garb might have been, the girl looked much the worse for wear. Tucking his tongue thoughtfully in his cheek, he met the hazel eyes that were now dull from fatigue. “Can ye pay?”
Cerynise could hardly admit her poverty, but neither could she lie. “’Twould be foolish for me to seek passage on a ship if I couldn’t pay for it in some fashion.”
“And that would be?”
Cerynise braced herself, knowing only too well how irrational her proposal might seem to a captain of a ship. “My uncle, Mr. Sterling Kendall, will give you the funds upon my arrival in Charleston.…”
For a moment Captain Sullivan stared at her as if convinced that she had taken leave of her senses. Then abruptly he slapped the flat of his hand upon the table and began to guffaw in rampant amusement, making her cringe with dread and embarrassment. He left no doubt that he considered her offer absurd. Finally he calmed and peered at her askance with merriment still lighting his ruddy face. “Now let me see if I understands ye, miss. Ye say yer uncle will pay once the voyage is done?”
Cerynise inclined her head ever so slightly, fully aware of the untenable position into which she had been thrust. “I realize that it would be rather unorthodox—”
“’Tis balmy, that’s what it be!” he barked suddenly, jolting a start from her. “Either ye’re a blisterin’ fool or ye take me for one, girlie.”
“Neither, Captain Sullivan,” she replied carefully and looked at him through welling tears. Though exhaustion muted her tone, she was nevertheless grateful that her tongue wasn’t thwarted by the cold at the moment. “I assure you that I’m in full command of my senses, but after the recent death of my guardian, I find myself thrust from her home by the people who have inherited her property. In their endeavor to take my every possession from me, they’ve left me nothing with which to barter. I’m now a veritable pauper as of a few hours ago.” She paused briefly, realizing she had been reduced to begging. “Believe me, sir, if I thought I could persuade you to take pity on me, I would gladly promise you twice the fee a passenger might normally pay for passage on your packet if you’d just accept that my uncle will give you the funds. He’s the only one I can rely upon.”
The dark eyes raked over her again, this time with some evidence of sympathy. “Ye must understand, miss, that I’m obligated to account for all the fees I take in. Me shipping company requires it.” Then he added with some reluctance, “Yer uncle could be dead, for all ye k
now, miss, and who, then, would pay for your passage? ’Twould have ta come out o’ me own purse if’n ye couldn’t pay.”
“I understand, Captain Sullivan,” she murmured dolefully, rising from her chair on limbs that threatened to give way beneath her. “I’m sorry to have bothered ye.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n,” Moon interjected, leaning near Sullivan’s shoulder again. The tar was amazed at his own growing desire to help the girl. “What ’bout the Audacious? Cap’n Birmin’ham don’t answer ta no man but hisself, sir. He could take her, if’n he be o’ a mind ta.”
“Aye,” Captain Sullivan agreed, stroking a hand thoughtfully over his bristly chin. “He owns his own ship…but as far as I knows, he’s never taken on any passengers.”
Cerynise passed a hand over her brow, wondering if she had heard the men correctly. She felt so weak that she couldn’t be sure just how perceptive she was or if her words were even coherent as her tongue began to trip over her words again. “Y-you did s-say Birmingham, d-didn’t you?”
Captain Sullivan looked at her curiously. “Do ye know Captain Birmingham, miss?”
“If he is p-part of the Birmingham family who l-lives near Charleston, th-then I do,” she said haltingly.
“’Tis Beauregard Birmingham who captains the Audacious we’re speakin’ of,” the captain explained. “Do ye know him?”
Her energy was swiftly ebbing, leaving her hardly enough reserve to answer the man. “Before my father’s death…he ran a private school…for the offspring of the planters and merchants who lived in that area.” She hated her lagging speech, which was becoming more pronounced. “At one time…Beauregard Birmingham was one of his students. We were acquainted with his family…and that of his uncle, Jeffrey Birmingham.”
“Perhaps if Cap’n Birmingham remembers ye well enough, he might take pity on ye,” Captain Sullivan mused aloud, continuing to stroke his bewhiskered chin. He caught his cabin boy’s gaze and jerked his head toward the door. “Give the lady safe escort ta the Audacious, Moon, an’ tell Cap’n Birmingham he owes me one. I’ll collect in a tankard o’ ale when next we meet.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The toothless grin was nearly as broad as the seaman’s face. “’Twill be a pleasure ta hie meself o’er there with the liedy an’ take a close look-see at that there ship o’ his afore we set sail.”
Full darkness had descended by the time Moon led Cerynise from the tavern, but the winds had died down. Tendrils of fog had begun to whisper over the banks of the river and slide insidiously over land as distant clanks and strange dragging sounds echoed eerily from the mists that hung over the water. Moon made his way through the night as if by rote, pausing now and then to give her a chance to catch up. Cerynise could see nothing in the gloom that closed in around them. She was hesitant of her footing, for her legs felt stiff and leaden beneath her. She was so thoroughly chilled and fatigued, it took determination to remember her resolve and drag her sodden slippers across the cobblestones. She staggered ever onward in spite of the difficulty of remaining upright and on her feet. Finally she could see the lofty masts of a ship rising above the swirling mass of vapors.
Moon glanced over his shoulder as he pointed toward the craft. “Bet ye’ve ne’er been on a ship like that there one o’ Cap’n Birmin’ham’s. A bloomin’ merchant frigate, she be! There ain’t many ta be seen like her, ’at’s for sure. An’ can ye believe, girlie? He paid for it hisself with all ’em furs an’ jewels an’ things what he brought back from Russia several years ago. From what I hears, he’s been back ta the Baltic and Saint Petersburg this time, too, he has, an’ is carryin’ twice as many treasures ’an before. ’Tis even rumored he talked the cap’n of an East India Company ship inta swappin’ some silks an’ pearls an’ jade an’ stuff for some o’ the rich booty he was carryin’. Now he’s here takin’ on more treasures ta tempt the merchants in Charl’ton, as if he ain’t gots enough ta entice ’em already. Why, a man’d be a fool ta carry passengers when he’s gots treasures like that fillin’ his holds. But let’s hope the cap’n will be o’ a different mind wit’ ye, girlie.”
Cerynise was unable to utter a reply. They were nearing a ship that rested against the quay. It was a proud, three-masted vessel, so huge it seemed to dwarf everything around it. But at the moment she couldn’t be awed by anything. Her strength had vanished, her senses dulled, her wits long fled. Each step was an agonizing exertion that she could no longer force her shaking limbs to perform. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere, close her eyes, and sleep.
Moon paused at the bottom of the gangplank and called to the watch on duty for permission to come aboard, but his voice sounded hollow and distant to Cerynise. Vaguely she was aware of her legs slowly crumpling beneath her and her body tilting back ever so slightly, as if time had ceased to be. Her head bumped almost gently against the cobblestones, but a dull ache began to throb there. Then a craggy voice cried out in alarm, and an eternity later, strong arms lifted her up against a stalwart chest. In the next moments the heavy mists seemed to swirl around her, closing in upon her like a dank tomb, choking off her breath and pulling her down into a dark abyss as a numbing, uncaring oblivion swept over her.
Two
CERYNISE STRUGGLED TO find a shadowed haven from the radiance filling her world. The light was bright and obtrusive in its boldness, intruding into the nebulous haze that seemed to surround her. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she sought to banish the glare into the nether realm, for surely it was a torment born of hell. Alas, it remained undiminished beyond her protesting lids. Finally she yielded a cautious peek through silken lashes and found the culprit to be the morning sun, shining through the expanse of windows somewhere behind her left shoulder and reflecting off an oval mirror fixed atop a shaving stand located across the room. Had they been of steel, the brilliant shafts radiating into her face might have pierced her brain.
All around the shimmering oval aura, indistinct shapes remained darkly aloof and pensively silent in their distant detachment. Some were far too large and bulky to claim human form, and yet, hard as she struggled, she could not lay face or body to others that seemed of more manly dimensions. Or was it only her imagination that made her think that she was not entirely alone?
Cerynise realized with some relief that she was no longer plagued by a feeling of discomfort. Indeed, she was warm and cozy in a bed, her body encased in clean-smelling sheets and a feather comforter, her hair dry with curling strands partially masking her face, and her toes no longer pained by the cold. If not for the penetrating ball of brightness shining between her narrowed eyelids, demanding that she pay heed, she might have still been slumbering in peaceful contentment.
A soft sigh slipped from her lips as she rolled away from the offending light. The goose down pillow beneath her head was a bit firmer than she was accustomed to, and with a balled-up fist, she punched it into some semblance of comfort, eliciting a strangely masculine essence that bestirred her senses like a warm caress. She rubbed her nose against the downy softness, deliberately extracting fleeting whiffs of the scent, and in quixotic reflection, licked a tongue languidly over smiling lips as several delicious fantasies swept through her mind. It was momentarily delightful to imagine that she had been carried off by a handsome sultan who, after claiming her, had banished his harem to the four corners of the earth, proving himself totally smitten by his love for her. Just as captivating was an illusion of a swashbuckler, handsome and daring enough to carry her off to his ship, where he promised to lay the world at her feet.
A slight shifting of her bed and a subtle creaking, similar to that which the masts of a ship might make, brought Cerynise’s eyes flying open in sudden alarm as she realized she was not housed on solid ground. The paneled wall that met her astounded gaze seemed unusually close. She reached out a hand to touch it, trying to bring it in line with what was familiar to her, but as her fingers lightly traced the delicate molding, she became aware that her world was once again swaying incongruously
to all that seemed right and customary in her life. Her hand flew to her mouth, smothering a gasp that was more mental than actual. She was definitely on a ship, she concluded, but whose?
Her ears caught a sound, and as she listened, her apprehension mounted. A faint scratching, like a quill on parchment, came from behind her.
As her thoughts became fraught with growing anxiety, her hand moved to her throat. Abruptly her eyes widened as she realized the slender column was no longer bedecked in a stiff ruffle. Her heart began to hammer as she slipped an arm first beneath the feather tick and then the sheet that covered her. Her fingers swept hurriedly downward, appraising her state of attire, and brushed a naked breast. In rising astonishment she continued her examination and found her hips and thighs equally devoid of clothing.
Her panic was too great! Twisting around, Cerynise gathered the covers up high beneath her chin and came upright in the bed to escape the reflected sunlight as she searched for the other occupant of the cabin, for she had no doubt now that there was another in the room. It didn’t much matter to her at the moment whether he was a swashbuckler or a sultan. The man was definitely a cad for having stripped her naked! And heaven only knew what else he had done!
Cerynise saw the man immediately. He was sitting at a desk with a quill in hand, making notes in a ledger that lay open before him. At her movement he dragged his gaze from the book and lent her his undivided attention. She found herself meeting eyes of deep emerald green in a face warmly bronzed by the sun. His black hair was wont to curl ever so slightly and was just long enough at the nape to brush the open collar of a shirt that appeared no less than dazzling white in the morning light.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive.” His voice was deep and imbued with warmth and humor. “You were sleeping so soundly, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake. As it is, you’ve slept the night and most of the morning through.”
Elusive Flame Page 4