by Jo Goodman
“My hand, Redland! Grab it!”
Redland reached out. His body was prone on the deck, his back to the rail. If he had not fallen when he did the momentum of his body would have carried him over the side. Alexis grasped his hand firmly and pulled him to his feet.
“Thank you, Captain!” His words were lost in another violent burst of thunder and he did not bother to repeat them.
Jordan hurried over to where they stood. “My God! I thought we lost you!”
“Damn near did!” Redland shouted back.
The three of them stood there for a moment, catching their breath and at the same time trying to determine the safest way to get to the hatch without further mishap. Redland stepped forward, pushing off the rail at the same instant lightning struck the ship. The loud report following the flash of light was not thunder this time. Alexis, blinded for a moment by the light, recovered her vision in time to see a section of the mizzenmast hurdling toward them. Instinctively, they leaped out of the way but as they did so the ship pitched again and when their bodies should have connected with the deck they found themselves on the other side of the rail, well on their way to being swallowed by the rough, frothy sea.
Members of the crew who had been close enough to see what happened immediately threw over life lines. Precious minutes were lost before they realized none of the three would be able to grasp the lines. The ropes were practically invisible to those who threw them over. Peters quickly took charge and had the boats released from the davits. Even as he and Randall and Brandon were being lowered against the side of the Dark Lady he knew it was probably too late to find his captain or his friends. Brandon kept his eyes riveted to the point in the water where he thought they must have gone under. When lightning flashed he cursed the fact he could see no more than whitecaps. Peter’s assumption he was on a fool’s mission was quickly realized when the lowered boat came into contact with the water and was buffeted about until it began to crack under the strain. It smashed against the hull of the Dark Lady even as they tried to move it away. Brandon and Peters grabbed at the extended ropes when they knew only death awaited them if they did not get back aboard. Randall made his grab for the line at the same moment his attention was caught by a figure riding on the water toward them. While Peters and Brandon were being pulled aboard, Randall reached for an oar and held it out over the water. With one hand he held onto the rope with such tenacity he could feel the fibers digging into his palm.
His grip was severely put to the test as the boat gave way beneath him and a groping hand reached for the extended oar. From above him, Randall could hear his mates encouraging him, and when light split the sky he saw it was Jordan who held the oar. Randall pulled him close to the ship as another line was thrown for Jordan to grasp. When he was sure Jordan had a firm grip on it he released the oar and his mates pulled him up the side of the ship.
Jordan felt strong hands grasping his arms, pulling him over the side. He teetered on his feet for what he thought was an eternity then, in spite of his resolve to do differently, he passed out.
His collapse coincided with the moment Cloud chose to come on deck. The men around Jordan parted and Cloud had a full view of the unconscious first mate as well as the bent figure of Peters kneeling beside him.
“What happened?” he asked, hurrying over to the men. First Peach, now Jordan. The storm was heaping abuse upon them.
His question was greeted with silence. Not only silence, he observed, but avoidance. The crew was more uneasy than the storm alone would have made them. Some were already returning to their posts, careful it seemed to not even glance in his direction. The looks he did manage to catch were vacant stares, as if their eyes were not seeing him, but seeing past him. He sank to his knees beside Peters.
“Is he alive?” he asked.
“Aye. He’ll make it.” Peters’s voice was strained as he pressed Jordan on his back, forcing sea water from his stomach and lungs.
“What happened?” Cloud asked again. This time he made sure his voice was such that it demanded an answer.
Peters pointed to the fallen section of the mizzenmast. “Lightning. Knocked out part of the rail. They went overboard.”
“They?” He lifted his head and searched the faces of the men standing around him. The glances caught briefly then the contact was broken. He turned back to Peters. The man’s face was drawn and ghastly pale. What Cloud had first thought was rain streaking across his face he suddenly realized were tears. A sickening feeling came over Cloud. He made no attempt to control it, rather he let the strength which accompanied the feeling control him. He was on his feet, dragging Peters with him.
“They!” he shouted, shaking Peters by his shoulders.
Peters made no move to extricate himself from Cloud’s powerful grasp. “Redland,” he answered tonelessly. “And Captain Danty.”
“Christ!” He immediately released Peters only to begin chucking his boots. His action was so quick no one realized his intent until he started toward the rail.
Randall lunged for him. “Tanner! We tried! You can’t do anything!” Cloud shook him off. “For Christ’s sake! Somebody stop him!”
Brandon barreled into Cloud, knocking him to the deck. They wrestled but the others stepped in when it was obvious Cloud was going to be the victor.
“Let me up! Goddamn you! Let me up!” he shouted. “You can’t leave her out there!” He struggled against the viselike grip of the four men holding down his arms and legs until he was exhausted. He slumped against the deck, his energy gone, his strength washed away as the rain stung his face and arms. Brandon helped Cloud rise, his outstretched hand saying more than he could have managed in words.
Cloud returned to Jordan’s side. “Take him to his cabin,” he told Peters as quietly as he dared and still be heard. “Then look in on Peach. He’s in her cabin.”
Peters nodded and motioned Davie Brandon to help him. They lifted Jordan and carried him toward the hatch. Before he descended Peters looked back over his shoulder at Cloud. His eyes were focused on the fallen section of mast and his hands were clenched in tight fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, facing the wind defiantly, aggressively. He raised one arm in a slow, almost painful motion and opened his mouth as if to utter some oath. The stance was that of a man who was ready to kill; Peters was surprised to hear him say, to the accompaniment of a sweeping motion of his extended arm: “Clear this out of here!” Peters smiled faintly, tasting bitter tears on the edge of his lips. Cloud was in command. He had his ship. He had a crew who would follow him. Travers didn’t have a prayer.
“What is it, Pierre?” Lafitte asked wearily, rising out of his tub. He took the towel offered to him by his servant, André, and began drying himself. “You really do have a habit of interrupting me at the most inopportune times.”
“Ahh, Jean. But when has it been for anything unimportant?”
“I concede, mon frère.” He threw the towel to one side where it was hastily retrieved by André before it could watermark the polished floors and began to dress. “What is it this time? Has Governor Claiborne issued a new warrant for my arrest?”
“You make jokes,” said Pierre. Sighing, he settled himself into one of the expensive Louis XIV chairs. He stretched his small, wiry frame in a motion that reminded Jean of a cat staking out his sleeping territory.
“You do not seem overly concerned,” he noted. It was merely a rhetorical observation. Jean was unaware of anything that could make his brother excited.
“That is because the problem is being taken care of at this very minute.”
“Then why bother me with it?”
“Because one of the problems…no, actually all of the problems…are asking to see you.”
“Enough,” Lafitte ordered sharply. “You are talking in riddles. Has someone come to Barataría uninvited?” He was pulling on a fresh shirt, plainly agitated with both the buttons and his brother.
“Help him, André,” Pierre said, enjo
ying Jean’s anger. As the servant rushed in to aid Lafitte, Pierre continued. “Do you remember Captain Danty?”
“What kind of question is that? Without me she would not be Captain of anything.”
“Her ship is here,” continued Pierre, as if Jean had said nothing. “At least her men say it is her ship.”
“Why do you doubt?”
“Because one of the men aboard has identified himself as Tanner Cloud. I believe that is the name you mentioned to me when you spoke of Alexis. Was not he the commander she escaped from?”
“You have a good memory. I believe that is the name.”
“I have been thinking perhaps this was just a trap he was setting to find her.”
Jean turned to the mirror and straightened the collar of his shirt. “I will not need you now, André. Go to Jeannine and tell her there will be guests for dinner.” André bowed slightly and left the room. Jean turned back to his brother. “You may be right, Pierre. From what Alexis told me he was a very determined man. You say he wants to see me?”
“The man is not alone in that. His whole crew wants to see you. Their ship was damaged in yesterday’s storm. They were limping in here when we intercepted them. They did not put up a fight. They said they were coming to see us anyway.”
“Where are they now?”
“Down in the bay. I would not let them off the ship until I found out what they were up to. They will not tell me anything except that they will tell you everything.”
“It is good to see their trust is not misplaced.” Lafitte grinned. “Allons. We will talk to these men. We have not shown them much hospitality so far.” He tucked a pistol into the waistband of his tailored trousers and followed Pierre out of the room to greet his unexpected guests.
When they reached the crest of the hill overlooking the bay, Lafitte stopped and surveyed the ship beside the one belonging to Pierre. He saw the broken mast, the damaged sails, and the gaping space that should have been railing. He also noted the lines of the ship, the unmistakable craftsmanship that made it a Quinton vessel.
“Mon Dieu!” he swore under his breath. His lips creased in a thin line and his dark brows drew together. “It is her ship, Pierre. She had made alterations consistent with the goal she had in mind, but it is without a doubt the ship I placed in her hands.”
“Then where is she?” asked Pierre. He frowned, looking at Jean’s face. His brother’s expression was such that Pierre expected only the worst.
“That is what we are going to find out.” He started over the hill, breaking into a run as he approached the shore. He remembered the golden hair and sparkling eyes he had often likened to champagne, much to Alexis’s discomfort. The defiant tilt of her head, the lift of her chin, the cool gaze she used to keep his men at a distance, were still etched in his memory. But her seriousness, her resolve, her determination to avenge those she’d lost, were more clearly part of his recall than any of her physical attributes. As he and Pierre were rowed out to the vessel he remembered the things he had taught her and the way she had hung on every lesson, knowing her life depended upon it. Pierre had once laughed at him for being so interested in Captain Danty’s whereabouts; but then, Pierre had never met her. It was his crew’s great respect for Alexis that made them never consider he had returned her ship to her out of weakness. It was his crew that kept their ears open for news of Travers, and it was they who decided that Quinton vessels would not be part of any booty. They shared a sense of pride when they heard of Captain Danty’s exploits, realizing they had something to do with her success, but also believing she would have found a way without them.
Lafitte grabbed the rope ladder thrown over the side of the ship and scrambled to the top. He swore he would kill them should he find this was some kind of ruse to hurt Alexis.
Landing lightly on his feet, he quickly surveyed the men around him. Their faces, pale and gaunt, only served to tighten the knot in his stomach. He knew then something beyond his power to avenge had happened to her.
“I am Jean Lafitte,” he said simply. “Pierre says you want to see me.” Beside him, Pierre was ready to step forward and introduce Cloud. Lafitte, however, had already eyed the man he thought possessed the name. He stepped forward, holding out his hand. “You are Captain Cloud, I believe.”
Cloud reached for the hand and shook it firmly. “I am. But how did you know?” He did not mention that he would have known Lafitte anywhere from Alexis’s brief allusion to the pirate’s mocking blue-green gaze and lifted eyebrow.
“We have an acquaintance in common, n’est-ce pas?” He dropped Cloud’s hand. “You are as she described you. It could only be you who would dare to pull her from the rigging when she was about her business.” He saw Cloud wince. “I do not know if that look is because the memory of your action is particularly distressing or…” His voice trailed off. He did not know how to phrase the thought in his mind. He spoke again, this time dearly to discover what the presence of her ship meant.
“This ship? It is the one I gave to Alexis, n’est-ce pas?”
“It is her ship,” Cloud answered.
“And what is an officer of the American Navy doing aboard her vessel? And where is Captain Danty?”
“May we talk below? There is a lot to explain.”
Lafitte hesitated, casting a sidelong glance at Pierre. “I will go with the captain. It will be all right.” He motioned to Cloud to lead the way before Pierre could protest and in a few minutes he was alone with Cloud in a cabin that had the presence of Alexis all about it. He saw her handwriting on the open page of her log, bold yet distinctly feminine. He thought she had chosen her furnishings in much the same manner. There was nothing in the cabin that reminded him of the man who had sailed this ship for Quinton. It was clearly Alexis’s domain. He took a seat and told Cloud to do the same, then repeated his question.
“Alex is dead.” Cloud heard the sharp intake of breath and he continued dully. He forced himself not to think about what he was saying and to concentrate only on getting the words past the tightness in his throat. “We were on our way to New Orleans. We had reason to suspect Captain Travers was patrolling these waters.” He met Lafitte’s eyes directly, letting him know he understood how the information had been received. Lafitte bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. The storm put us off course and Alexis decided to head for Barataría. We had encountered some minor damage at that time which she thought could be repaired here. Lightning struck our mizzenmast and when it fell it knocked out a section of railing, Captain Danty, the first mate, Jordan, and another crew member were thrown overboard. We managed to get Jordan. There was nothing we could do for Alex and Redland.”
Lafitte listened attentively to the lifeless account, noting the pained, weary expression in the green eyes facing him. That Cloud had had no sleep was obvious. That he had lost someone he cared for was even more obvious and enormously difficult to look upon.
“What were you doing aboard her ship? You must understand that I have to be sure…” Again he faltered, disliking himself for even doubting Cloud’s motives.
“That I am not making this up? That I would tell you this wild story to get at Alex?” Cloud felt anger welling up inside him and he fought to control it. Part of him realized Lafitte was being cautious to protect a woman he did not want to believe was dead. Briefly he told the pirate all that had happened to bring about his presence on the Dark Lady. When he was done Lafitte nodded and rose from his chair.
“I am truly sorry,” he said quietly. “I wish it could be as Pierre and I first thought—that you were only trying to discover her whereabouts. I wish I did not believe you.” Both men were silent, each thinking private thoughts that they knew somehow were the same.
Lafitte broke the silence first. “Come. You will be my guest for a few days—you and the crew. It will be some time before the ship can be repaired, and perhaps in that time, we will be able to learn something of Captain Travers. I assume that is what you want to do.” Cloud nodded. “Bi
en. It is as she would have wanted—not for herself, but for the ones she loved. There is a representative of the Royal Navy due here tomorrow. Perhaps he will know something that will be of help.”
Dinner had been a decidedly gloomy affair. Cloud listened closely to the conversation between Jean and Pierre which centered mainly on the arrival of the Royal Navy captain. Apparently the British had conceived a plan Senator Howe would have admired. They wanted to secure the pirate’s help in maintaining a firm base in New Orleans. The British were willing to name the pirates subjects of the crown and give them residency in British colonies. The brothers joked about the audacity of such a proposal. Jean was interested in meeting the representative in order to put the question of aid to an end once and for all.
Cloud was grateful for the discussion because he could not have contributed any thoughts that would not have reminded everyone of Alexis. Jordan and Peters were also invited to dine and more than once Cloud caught them staring off into space while they made a pretense of eating the delicious food Lafitte had provided for them. Jordan excused himself and his lack of appetite with a statement about not being fully recovered from his near drowning, and the others graciously accepted it. Peters managed to get away from the table early saying he had Peach’s leg to attend to. Again the excuse was accepted. When he was gone, Cloud and the Lafitte brothers were left to manage the uncomfortable silence.
“You have no wish to get away?” Jean asked as he refilled wineglasses.
“Every wish,” Cloud replied honestly. “I hadn’t yet found a way to do it tactfully.”
The brothers laughed, and Jean said, “Tact has its place.”
His voice became somber and he lay his hand on Cloud’s wrist, offering support in his grasp. “But not here—among friends—who share your grief. I suggest you take a tour of Barataría. It is quite beautiful, especially now, at dusk. You will find much to your liking.” He knew he was not cleverly handling his suggestion that Cloud be alone but he believed what he said about tact. “I also insist you spend the night here. One of the servants will prepare a room for you. When you return I will have some news for you concerning our visitors tomorrow. I am expecting it shortly.”