The Captain's Lady

by Jo Goodman

  George and Pauley exchanged glances. Neither believed Travers could go through with such madness. They looked at Alexis, but she was glaring at the captain and did not turn in their direction. They only had two shots left against six men and they each made the same decision: to see what the next few minutes had in store for them.

  At the same time, Cloud decided he and his men could not wait any longer. They’d heard Travers’s threat and fully believed he would carry it out. At Cloud’s signal they began their separate approaches. Allen chose to use surprise to cover the others’ positions and charged out of the trees screaming like a banshee in the direction of the house. He didn’t go far. One of Travers’s men picked him off, but the confusion that followed was enough to give Pauley and George the chance they needed.

  Pauley fired first, catching Travers in the arm and knocking the gun out of his hand. The force of the slug sent the captain to the ground, but in his wisdom, or his cowardice, he had the presence of mind to grab Alexis and use her to shield his body. George fired off a shot that narrowly missed Alexis as she struggled to be free of Travers’s icy grip.

  Two of the British seamen were pursuing Landis and Briggs, who had been sighted in spite of Allen’s effort as they were nearing the house from the back. As another shot was fired, George leaped toward Travers in a desperate bid to free Alexis. He was stopped in midair by a shot that sent him to the ground with a sickening thud.

  Alexis cried out as George dropped to the grass only a few feet in front of her. She knew he was dead even before his body hit the hard earth. Pauley started to move forward, but he stopped when one of the men pointed his pistol at Alexis’s head. He held his position, rooted to the spot he stood in.

  Peering over the edge of the cliff from Alexis’s crow’s nest, Cloud was met by the grim sight of Landis being dragged, unconscious, toward the front of the house. He knew then that Allen and Briggs were probably dead. He had decided to make his approach on the cliff side, using the same path he had seen Alexis use earlier. But she had made it appear far simpler than it was, and the delay had cost dearly.

  Icy rage gripped him as he raised his pistol toward the man who had a weapon directed at Alexis. He fired. He knew a bitter satisfaction when the man clutched his head and fell to the ground.

  Astonishment held Pauley rigid for a moment longer, then he forgot everything but his immediate purpose. He cared little for the fact that the sailors had pulled out their cutlasses or that they had anticipated his move. He wanted Travers.

  He ran toward the group and pulled Alexis off the captain, then he fell on him, twisting his collar. Pauley lifted the man’s head and repeatedly banged it to the ground.

  Cloud watched as the other men surrounded Pauley, weapons ready. He scrambled over the edge of the cliff and fired but Alexis was on her feet by this time and she lunged at him. The shot that was meant for Cloud’s heart found its target along his hairline and the captain slipped into darkness.

  Alexis was at a loss to explain the presence of any of the men who seemed to have made it their business to help. As she saw the tall, lean man whose life she had tried to save, fall to the ground, she was filled with an anger so intense it momentarily frightened her. She tried to get to her feet again but because of her bound hands her movements were awkward and she was sent reeling back to the ground by a well-placed boot in her stomach.

  Powerless to stop what was happening, she watched in horror as Pauley was lifted from Travers and thrown to the ground. One of the men was ready to shove his blade into Pauley’s chest when Travers’s moans halted him. Alexis could hardly believe the man was still alive. His arm was bleeding heavily and his head was cut in a number of places. He staggered to his feet, dazed and disoriented.

  “Don’t kill him yet. We need some answers first.” His voice became louder and harsher as he composed himself. Alexis thought the anger in his cold eyes could only be matched by the fury in her own. He seemed oblivious to the pain he had to be feeling.

  Travers walked over to Pauley and took the sword from the seaman who was standing over him. “Who are those men who tried to get to you? How many more are there?”

  Pauley narrowed his eyes and stared at the captain. He did not know any more than Travers but he wasn’t about to explain that. He remained silent.

  Travers moved the point of the cutlass up Pauley’s chest and let it rest at his throat. He pressed lightly until the skin broke and he could see tiny rivulets of blood coming from the opening. “Who are those men? How many more are there?” Pauley chose not to answer again and Travers motioned his men to begin a search. “One of you take the girl in the house and tie up the other woman in there. I’ve had all I can stand from meddling females today.” He grinned at Alexis as she was forced past him. His smile faded when she spit on his boots.

  Alexis was pushed into the house and forced into a chair in the dining room.

  “Where’s the other woman?” the seaman asked her.

  Alexis shrugged her shoulders. She glanced around the room. Francine seemed to have disappeared. Alexis hoped she had gotten away and into town for help. Her eyes stopped at the sight of Francine’s shoes peeking out from beneath the heavy gold drapes. She looked quickly away but her captor had already seen her hesitation and he approached the window cautiously.

  He was ready to pull back the drapes when a sound behind him caught his attention. He spun on his heels in time to see the object of his search coming at him with a large kitchen knife. As barefooted Francine lifted her weapon, the man gripped her wrist and twisted it hard. Francine hung on to the knife in spite of the pain and with the kind of strength only a person in terror can find, she pushed the blade closer to the man’s chest.

  Alexis forced herself to watch the action without making a sound. She knew if she screamed it would only attract the others, denying Francine all chance of winning, and because there was nothing she could do the struggle seemed to go on forever.

  The seaman’s foot caught Francine’s ankle and she lost her balance. They both fell to the floor, the knife wedged between them. The man stood up and staggered back against the wall, his eyes wide and horror-filled. His chest was crimson. He looked down at Francine, then over to Alexis.

  “Oi never killed a woman before,” he said, the words strangling in his throat. “Oi didn’t wan’ ta kill ’er.”

  Alexis looked from his blood-soaked shirt to the cause of it. Francine was lying motionless on the carpet, the knife firmly embedded in her chest. Alexis thought she detected the slightest smile on Francine’s face and she looked back at the horrified seaman.

  “I think you had better kill me also,” she said without emotion. “Or I will kill you.”

  The sailor stared at those amber eyes, and they held him motionless for a moment. He was suddenly afraid of the beautiful girl who sat without moving in the chair into which he had thrown her.

  Brusquely he walked toward her and yanked her out of the chair. He led her outside, wanting only to get out of the house and into a position where he felt in charge.

  Alexis gasped when she saw what was happening out there. The two men who had tried to help were both bound now, so Alexis assumed they were alive, but unconscious. Pauley was tied to one of the portico columns. His shirt had been torn up the back and Travers was issuing the order to begin the flogging.

  The captain stopped when he saw the girl and his man come out of the house. “I thought I told you to leave her in there! Where’s the other woman?”

  “She’s dead. She came after me. Oi ’ad ta defend meself.” He looked at Alexis when he said his next words. “It was an accident. Oi didn’ wan’ ta kill ’er.”

  Travers said something to him that he did not hear. He only had ears for Alexis as she said softly, but with an edge of hardness that gave meaning to her words, “It doesn’t matter, sailor.”

  The British captain turned his attention back to Pauley. “You asked for this. You refused to answer my—”

  Alexis br
oke in. “He doesn’t know the answers!” she screamed. “He doesn’t know who those men are! Wait until they wake up and ask them yourself!”

  “I believe you,” Travers said. “But that’s only part of the reason this man is being punished. He attacked an officer of His Majesty’s Navy and for that I could have him killed.”

  “Then do it,” Pauley answered. He stared at Alexis, telling her that he was not afraid to die and that she should not interfere.

  But death was not what Travers had in mind. He still needed men for his ships. Getting the ships would present no problem now, with Quinton dead, but he could use a strong man like Pauley on board. Not on his ship, of course. That was to invite death, but he could be valuable on board another. The lashes that were about to be delivered would make him more cooperative. Travers had not encountered many men who, once they had experienced fifty strokes, ever came back for more. If they lived, most of them were terrified at the threat.

  Alexis did not take her eyes from Pauley as Travers gave the order.

  Cloud opened his eyes. His brain was foggy and his vision blurred. He tried to move and realized he had been tied. He looked over at Landis who was just beginning to stir. The seamen standing over them were not interested in their movements. Their eyes were trained on a sight in front of them and when Cloud looked in that direction he had to fight the waves of nausea that assailed him.

  The man tied to the support had easily received two dozen lashes and still Travers was ordering his man to inflict more. Cloud could not tell if the girl’s husband had already passed out. He was not moving or crying out, but sometimes that was no proof. Cloud remembered he had taken almost that many before oblivion set in. He turned away from the man’s bloody back to the girl, standing motionless on the porch. Her gaze suddenly shifted from Pauley to Travers, and Cloud thought then, that if eyes could inflict death, she had just murdered Travers mercilessly.

  He watched, helpless, as Alexis broke from her captor’s grip and ran to Travers. She threw herself at his feet and begged him to stop the flogging. Bile rose in Cloud’s throat. He knew this girl wanted to do nothing but kill the man in front of her; yet she was forced to beg instead. It was harder to look on her face as she stilled her pride, than it was to see her husband’s raw and bleeding flesh. This was an anniversary she would always remember.

  “Captain Travers! Please! Stop! You’ll kill him! Don’t make him suffer anymore!” Her voice was soft as the whip was sharp. “You’ve had your revenge! Leave him alone!”

  Travers ignored her and kicked her out of the way. “Quiet, girl, or you’ll be feeling the lash next.”

  Alexis stood up. Her muscles tensed and she clenched her fists behind her back. She glared at Travers once more, allowing him to see the full extent of her hatred. He laughed at her and ordered his man to continue. Alexis was not shocked by his laughter, only his stupidity. At least the man who had murdered Francine knew that she spoke the truth about killing him. Travers was a fool to believe anything else was possible.

  But not now, Alexis thought. Now she had to save Pauley. Travers would be hers later.

  If she lived.

  Alexis ran to Pauley and threw herself across his bloody back. The front of her dress and the curve of her breasts were immediately soaked with his blood. The man holding the whip did not have time to check his movement and the stroke intended for Pauley caught Alexis across her back, tearing her shift and drawing a small, thin line of red. The seaman dropped his whip, intending to pull Alexis from Pauley and continue the punishment, but his captain stopped him.

  “If that’s what she wants,” he said as he picked up the whip, “then she may have it. He has thirteen lashes left, girl. They’re yours now.”

  Cloud’s features hardened as Alexis’s hands were untied and retied around the man she was trying to protect. He heard Landis wince as her shift was ripped open from her neck to her waist.

  “It seems a shame to mark such beautiful skin,” Travers said as he ran his rough hand down her naked back. He raised his hand to strike the first blow but hesitated when he saw his men turning away. He yelled at them. “She wants this! If it hadn’t been for her, none of this would have happened.” It was a lie. He knew it and his men knew it, but they also knew that if they turned away they would be at the wrong end of his whip soon. They steeled themselves and watched.

  The man who had killed Francine could not take his eyes from Alexis as she turned her head, leaning her cheek against Pauley’s back, and stared at him.

  Alexis’s eyes closed briefly as she felt the strip of leather crease her back. She whispered to Pauley not to be afraid, that she could stand it, that she wanted to stand it. She pleaded with him to hang onto life until vengeance would be theirs. She felt the sticky wetness on her back as Travers brought down the whip again and again. She bit her lip, tasting blood, so she would not cry out. Her hair was plastered to her back as sweat mingled with the ruby creases every stroke made. She forced herself to remain conscious, wanting to remember every nuance of pain the captain was inflicting upon her. She would need that memory to keep her going in the days, possibly months, ahead. Tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. They were at first tears of pain, but they were fed by sadness, horror, and outrage. She could not stop the involuntary moan that came to her lips. She lost count of the strokes. She was ready to lose reality when suddenly it stopped.

  Travers threw down the whip. The pain from his wounded arm was burning him, distracting him. The movement as he wielded the whip had caused blood to flow rapidly and he began to feel weak from the effort. He had stopped at ten, when he heard her moan. That was enough for him. It was all he’d wanted from the beginning—to hear the girl cry out once. She could have saved herself a lot of pain if she had given in earlier. He had never intended to give her the full count. But she had lasted and damn near killed him in the process.

  He held his wound, trying to stop the flow with pressure, and barked at his men. “Leave them all! We’ll get the ships we want and get off this island.” The men did not move immediately. They were still staring at the girl’s back. She was not crying out or moving, but they knew she was alive by her erratic breathing and by the rasping sounds coming from her throat. They hated Travers for what he had done and they hated themselves for not stopping it.

  One of them moved forward to untie Alexis but Travers stood in his way. “No. Leave her. Let’s get out of here before the entire settlement discovers what has happened.”

  They started to move, all except Francine’s murderer. He was still, held prisoner by the amber eyes that were open now but glazed over by tears. When the lids closed over them he felt as if he had been freed and in that instant he knew what he wanted to do. He leaped forward, toward his captain’s unprotected back, and threw himself on him.

  Travers was not caught completely off guard; he had been suspecting the man would do something since he had first walked out of the house. Something had happened in there, and he did not think it was only the death of the woman.

  Instinctively Travers knew when the moment was about to take place and he was ready. In spite of his weakened condition he managed to draw his pistol, and as the sailor caught him by the shoulders Travers spun and fired into the mutineer’s belly. The man dropped to the ground and Travers faced his three remaining men.

  “Don’t any of you entertain the same idea,” he said tightly.

  The men looked away and started down the hill, each having the same desire to kill his captain; yet none was willing to risk the consequences if he did not succeed.

  Cloud could hardly believe he and Landis were still alive. Alexis had saved them by her actions. Travers would never want Landis and him aboard after they had witnessed what happened, and they had not been killed because Travers had had all the carnage even he could tolerate in one day.

  Cloud slid closer to Landis. They began working on their ropes. The first officer managed to free himself and then he untied his captain and to
gether they raced to Alexis. She was alive, but barely. When Cloud freed her hands, she slid down Pauley’s slippery back before he could catch her and fell in a crumpled heap at his feet. He was about to pick her up and take her into the house when Landis stopped him.

  “He’s dead, Captain. He was probably dead before she tried to save him.”

  Alexis looked up at the man who was speaking. She forced herself to answer him. “He died while I was asking him to go on living. He died in my arms.” Sobs racked her body and Cloud reached down for her but she pushed him away. Every sob, every pained breath her body took, gave her additional strength.

  Cloud and Landis could not hide their surprise when she got to her feet. She wavered only slightly as another spasm of pain gripped her body. She looked down at Pauley’s lifeless form, then over at George. She remembered Francine in the house. Then she remembered all of them as they had been only an hour ago. Happy. Excited. Her anniversary. Pauley coming to see her. Life in the crow’s nest where no one could touch her. She noticed that the two men were watching her curiously. It was obvious they thought she was half mad. And perhaps she was, she thought.

  Hadn’t she been half mad to believe there was a place where she could not be hurt? Hadn’t she let George and Francine soften her with their well-meaning love and protection? Hadn’t she let Pauley make a decision to bring her to them in the first place? It was a decision she hadn’t liked but one she’d allowed herself to accept. It was a decision on his part that was made out of concern and love for a small girl. And she had learned to love them all.

  And now, the only people who had ever shown her any affection were dead. The pain that gripped her back was insignificant compared to the pain of losing Pauley, George, and Francine.

  Alexis staggered toward the crow’s nest, falling to her knees before she made it half the distance and crawling the remainder of the way.

  She looked out over the cove, aware of the two men at her side, and she wondered if they thought she was going to throw herself over the cliff. Didn’t they know she had a reason to live? Didn’t they suspect?