The Captain's Lady

by Jo Goodman

  “Absolutely.”

  Out of sight, but within hearing distance, Peach was thinking Cloud had no more tests to pass.

  Cloud entered Alexis’s quarters after knocking lightly and receiving a perfunctory reply. She did not look up from her work when he closed the door. He watched her, her head bent over the long, slim fingers holding a quill which crossed the page in a fluid motion. Several minutes passed and she seemed to have forgotten she had allowed someone to enter. Finally she put the quill down and examined what she had written. Eyes still on the page she asked, “What is it?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Captain Danty, but there is a small matter of the British bearing down on us, a storm gathering to the south, mutiny among the men…” At the sound of his voice Alexis’s head jerked up and she could only half listen to the list of calamities he was presenting. Her eyes followed his as he sat down on the bunk and removed his shirt. “…Redland has thrown Wilkes to the sharks, the hull’s rotted in two places, we are taking in water and”—he tossed the shirt aside and lay back on the bunk with a small groan—“I am exhausted.”

  Smiling, Alexis walked over and sat beside him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging them lightly. “Is that all? There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong I can’t take care of.”

  Cloud grinned, closing his eyes. “Good. I knew I was telling the right person.”

  Her hands moved across his collarbones. Her fingers brushed against his neck and through his hair. “Let’s take care of the most serious problem first.”

  “And that would be?” His hands began to unfasten the buttons of her shirt. His fingers slid beneath the material to stroke her breasts.

  She pulled away suddenly and addressed him sternly, laughter in her eyes. “I thought it was your exhaustion but there appears much you can still do. I will see about the other matters.” She started to move from the bunk but he caught her wrist and pulled her back. His grip was urgent, his fingers pressing firmly against the pulse in her wrist. She did not resist.

  They undressed each other hurriedly, frantically, unable to prolong the inevitable joining of their bodies with tender phrases, light caresses, or gentle kisses. Somehow, they realized those things had already been done. Covert glances on deck, when amber locked on green for a fleeting moment, had accomplished the task more thoroughly than words and delicate manipulations of fingers, mouths, and tongues. It was as if their actions the entire day had been in preparation for this moment.

  Their embrace was fierce and Alexis found herself straining against Cloud’s familiar contours, wanting to know the angle of his elbow with the soft inner curve of her own, wanting to feel the flat of his abdomen flush against the slightly rounded slope of her belly. She tried to get a sense of her own body through the palms of his hands as they skimmed her back, pausing briefly at the base of her spine, then causing her to shiver delightfully as the pads of his thumbs ran the length of her backbone to her neck, then over her shoulders to trace her collarbone. She wondered if he could feel her skin tingle beneath his fingers or detect heat from her flesh that rivaled his own. What did he taste when his mouth touched her lips, her shoulder, or her breast? Did he find her bittersweet or was she tangy, perhaps salty, as she found him? His nose brushed her temple when his tongue outlined her inner ear and she was curious if she had a unique fragrance he might associate with her. She breathed deeply and found Cloud to be a heady combination of briny sea air and his own special musky scent she thought very masculine and attractive. As their bodies meshed and she called his name and her need in the same breath she wondered if she warmed him with her body as he warmed her when he filled her. And he seemed to know what she was thinking because he whispered he wanted this loving to go on forever, that she was necessary for his existence, and the manner in which she opened herself to him, gave to him, humbled him even while he sought to lose himself in her. In the end they were lost in one another.

  Afterward they slept deeply, unaware of any reality except the closeness of their bodies and the word that gave definition to their contact.

  Alexis shivered and reached out for the warmth of the body she had grown accustomed to. She shivered again. Gradually she realized Cloud was no longer beside her. Slowly her eyes opened only to shut tightly when they met the light of the lamp. She sat up, waited until her head cleared, and opened her eyes again. Cloud was sitting at her desk, his head propped on an elbow, writing furiously. The sweep of his arm told her he was irritated and the crumpled sheets of paper scattered around him spoke of his frustration. He paused, as if to gather some thought, then the paper in front of him joined the others on the deck.

  “The letters?” she asked when he made no move to get fresh paper.

  “Yes. I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Can I help?”

  “Come. Sit here.” He reached for a nearby chair and pulled it close to him. “That will be help enough.” His voice was strained but his eyes were warm and inviting.

  Alexis rose from the bunk, slipping on her shirt, and crossed the cabin to sit beside him. She curled comfortably into the chair, tucking her feet under her. She waited, knowing he would tell her what the problem was when he was ready. Her hand moved to his arm, easing the tense lines in his muscles with light strokes.

  “I get so angry,” he sighed. “I start writing clearly; then I think of what Howe wanted to do to you…to me…to his country, and I’m so angry I end up sounding like a madman. No one will ever do anything to him on the basis of what I’ve written so far.”

  His voice began to rise and he pulled away from Alexis.

  “All day, Alex, I have been thinking of what I would write…of how to phrase the accusations…facts instead of adjectives. Read one. Go ahead. You’ll wonder if I have a lucid thought in my head.” He reached down to pick up one of the discarded letters but she stopped him.

  “I am not interested in the attempts that were not good enough for you. Don’t insult me. Show me your best.” She released his arm and walked to the back of his chair. She put her arms around his neck and bent her head so her mouth was near his ear. “I am only interested in your best. That is all that should concern you.”

  He waited until he relaxed under the full effect of her words and then he leaned forward, sliding out of her embrace, and picked up the quill. As he wrote he was conscious not of the words, but of the way they seemed to appear effortlessly before him. He made changes, scratched out paragraphs, but he did not have to discard an entire sheet.

  Alexis moved away from him, sensing she had ceased to exist for the time being. She poured them each a glass of wine. His went unnoticed, untouched, while she sipped hers slowly, settling back into her chair. Occasionally, during a pause in his thoughts, his hand would reach out to touch her thigh, her shoulder, her hair. She was not certain he was aware of these movements but they’d seemed to give him the same reassurance she had sought earlier from him. She did not know when she fell asleep, only that she must have, for strong arms were enfolding her, lifting her, and when she was in her bunk they did not leave her.

  During breakfast Alexis read the final work. When she finished she placed it to one side and looked at Cloud. “Are you satisfied with the letter?”

  “I’d still be writing and you’d still be in that chair if I wasn’t.”

  “It’s very good.”

  “I know.” His fingers curled around her hand, squeezing it briefly.

  Alexis accepted his silent thank you, returning it with a firm smile. “Now to get it to Charleston,” she said, sighing.

  Cloud frowned. “How difficult do you think it will be?”

  “Very. But not impossible. We’ve run French blockades in British ports, British blockades in French ports, Spanish blockades in any port they feel like congesting. It seems the whole world is concerned with everyone but themselves. I don’t suppose it will be too difficult slipping past the British into an American port. We have an advantage because the
war is only a few months old—the British will not have their blockade well organized yet.”

  “What flag will you fly?”

  “Stars and Stripes.”

  Cloud laughed. “You say that like an American.”

  Alexis regarded him curiously. “If you mean with pride—of course. I have been an American all my life—up here.” She tapped her head. “I did not always know it. Even when I left London I didn’t know enough about the United States to realize it was the country that would hold the same truths I did. I only knew London had nothing for me.”

  “But you never made it to the United States. Was Tortola a disappointment?”

  Alexis shook her head. “Life in Roadtown was wonderful, but that was more because of George and Francine than anything else. If I ever had the inclination to proudly call myself a citizen of the British crown it ended the moment Captain Travers stepped foot on the island. I’ve thought about it for some time, Cloud. Since I first learned war was imminent between the two countries I knew it was time for me to decide which side I could help. I suppose the English will consider me a traitor, but in light of all I value there is only one side I can choose. So from now on we’ll fly an American flag—no more deceptions. If we have to fight to get to Travers then that is what we’ll do.” She grinned. “There is another factor involved, although it didn’t take part in my decision. The United States also happens to be the winning side.”

  “You’re confident.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Not as long as Howe is still doing his worst and I don’t have my ship to command.”

  Alexis left her chair and sat on the arm of his. She kissed his forehead. “Then there is nothing to worry about. It won’t be long before Howe is finished and you’ll have the Concord. You probably think you can defeat the entire Royal Navy once you have your ship back.”

  “At least the part that’s causing us trouble.” He laughed and shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “You can have what’s left.”

  She pulled his arm and led him to the door. “You are very gallant, Captain, and if I get my man I may take up your offer. Now, shall we see about raising that flag?”

  Chapter 16

  Two days later, at night, Dark Lady docked in Charleston harbor. There was no celebration at having successfully slipped through the blockade. Everyone on board knew each hour spent in port would allow available Fleet ships to gather, making their departure many times more dangerous than their entry.

  While Jordan and Cloud placed the important letters in the hands of David Hastings, Alexis arranged for the sale of her cargo. The silks and linens she had in her hold were eagerly seized by city merchants who were already experiencing the shortage of goods that war brought. But the profit for the material did not compensate for the price Alexis was forced to pay for additional foodstuffs and medicinal items. Finding someone who could supply the ship took four days and there was another day’s delay when it was discovered some of the meat ordered was spoiled.

  Reports filtered in from coastal observers that the British were tightening their forces off the Charleston shore as well as around important trade centers farther north.

  The day before they were scheduled to leave a Garnet-owned merchant was captured by HMS Raleigh only ten miles from the harbor. The cargo was confiscated, the ship burned, and the members of the crew who survived were allowed to reach land in long boats.

  “My God.” Cloud shook his head when he heard the news. “They never had a chance, Alex. Garnet merchants aren’t equipped with arms to match a frigate. I understand confiscating the cargo, and burning the ship makes sense because they didn’t have anywhere to take it. But firing on them before the captain was given an opportunity to surrender—that is unforgivable.”

  Alexis massaged the tightly corded muscles in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, wishing the words were not so inadequate. “Have they been able to determine how many lives were lost?”

  He nodded, closing his eyes as bitter tension left him. “I spoke with Hank Winslow, the cargo master. He said the Raleigh’s first shot was as unexpected as it was lucky. It struck the mizzenmast which toppled and killed two men. Before they could recover from the Raleigh’s tactics they were greeted with a three-minute cannonade. Eight men died then, including the captain. Four more died from wounds on their way back to the harbor and Winslow says there’s one man yet who may die or spend the rest of his life with one arm. Fourteen men, Alex. Fourteen!”

  “Are you feeling responsible?”

  “My sister and I own the line. Of course I feel—”

  “Cloud, you know that if your captain had been given the option he would have surrendered as ordered. You aren’t at fault because someone on the Raleigh refused to allow him that chance.”

  He acknowledged her words by placing his hands over hers at the base of his neck. “I do need you, Alex.” She kissed the top of his head then released herself from his hold. Walking to her desk, she smoothed the edges of the map lying on top and studied it for several minutes.

  “What are you thinking?” Cloud asked as he joined her.

  She sighed ruefully. “It’s nothing you’re going to like.”

  “But you do have an idea.”

  She nodded, turning on him suddenly. “Wilkes and Peach have been asking questions for me. In order to leave here we’ll have to contend with more than the Raleigh. There are British privateers just waiting to capture a few prize ships. Charleston trade is being cut off by that congestion.”

  “And you’re suggesting…”

  “I am suggesting we clear the local waters on our way out.”

  “You’re mad. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Be serious. It can be done.”

  “Of course it can,” he agreed gravely. “But the Dark Lady can’t do it alone.”

  “And I never suggested she could.”

  Interested now, Cloud raised speculative brows. “How?”

  “There are two privately owned schooners in the harbor. Wilkes tells me they’re already outfitted to do some privateering. Their guns are good and the crews are experienced. They have only been waiting for the proper time to leave port. There are also several smaller craft that would be battle worthy if they had the arms.” Smiling, tongue in cheek, she said, “You may have noticed Dark Lady has some extra munitions. I propose to use some of them now. We can outfit two of the best sloops and still be adequately stocked.”

  “An armada. That’s what you’re talking about, you know.”

  “I’m talking about ridding this area of the British and opening up trade for the city again. At least temporarily.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this before the Raleigh incident, haven’t you?”

  “Of course I have. I thought at first we could be in and out. But the delays, the reports, and now the Raleigh—well, you know the difficulty we’re facing. Wilkes has approached the owners of the ships I would like to have with me. They’re willing.”

  “Do they know with whom they’re dealing?”

  “Alex Danty, you mean?” When Cloud nodded, she explained. “No, I didn’t want them to be swayed by tales they may have heard. They made all the arrangements with Wilkes. We’ll let them know it’s Danty who’s leading them just before we sail, and only then because I don’t want them forgetting who’s in command.”

  Cloud was pensive for several moments. His attention focused on the map at his fingertips, wandered to the activity beyond the cabin windows, and finally riveted on the woman in front of him. A lazy, confident smile formed on his sensuous mouth as his eyes slowly appraised Alexis.

  Her throat became tight, her mouth dry from the possessive nature of his gaze. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I like you in black.”

  Three days of preparation were required to make the two sloops ready for battle. From the moment the first cannon left Dark Lady’s hold rumors held the city’s imagination. As word spread of reprisals for the Ralei
gh’s actions, townspeople visited the harbor to get a look at the men who were going to do it.

  Alexis had not been able to go on deck for over a week. There was already too much speculation surrounding her ship’s identity without adding the enigma of a woman.

  Those hearty souls who suspected that any move to be made would occur at night were rewarded for their vigilance when Captain Danty made an appearance. At first they were not certain they had seen more than a shadow, an insubstantial black wraith against an inky sky, but when questions were put to the shadow and husky commands were returned, they knew they were witnessing the authority of Alex Danty.

  An hour after midnight Alexis ordered her ship out of the harbor. Dark Lady was followed minutes later by the schooners, Phoenix and Centurion, and after that, the sloops, Dianne and Hancock. Out of sight of the harbor they separated to the coordinates Alexis had outlined several hours earlier as Captain Danty.

  The Dark Lady would be a decoy, an attractive prize ship for enemy privateers, or a defiant blockade runner that naval ships would not want to overlook. There was no moonlight to reveal their number, giving Alexis confidence that surprise and skill would see them break the foreign hold over the city before dawn.

  Little distance had been covered before Randall’s alert from the cap signaled a ship had taken the bait. Alexis allowed the British privateer to narrow the distance between them while she skillfully drew him to where the sloops waited to turn the tables.

  Once Dark Lady had cleared her nearly invisible partners she swung wide to watch the trap close. Cannon shot ripped the air as Hancock opened up on an enemy schooner. Flashes of light froze the action for the spectators. Dark Lady’s crew saw the Dianne pull hard to starboard and as the dull sound of metal meeting wood was carried across the water, they knew the schooner had been secured with grappling hooks. There were shouts and cries after that, painful to hear, more terrible in some ways because they could not see—only imagine.

  It was not until a flare was released from the Hancock that any of them were certain of victory. Beneath her mask, the gravity of their accomplishment and the accompanying loss of life was etched on Alexis’s taut features.