by Jo Goodman
Cloud nodded. He thanked Jean for his understanding, not with words but with his eyes. Then, he left the spacious dining room, the wide foyer, and stepped out onto the portico. There was a slight breeze, the air was cool and fresh, and Cloud took pleasure in being able to breathe it.
He walked aimlessly, hands in his pockets, thumbs out, and let the wind tug at his open collar and whip at his thick hair. He stopped suddenly, not knowing precisely why, when he reached the top of a grassy knoll overlooking the bay. The sun, barely noticeable on the edge of the horizon, had colored the sky with red, orange, and in some places, pale mauve that would become a rich indigo and later deep purple. In sharp relief against the striking background were two ships rolling listlessly off shore. In direct contrast to their somber silhouettes he could hear voices drifting across the water to his place on the crest of the hill. They were too loud, too raucous, too determined to be carefree, to be coming from Pierre’s ship. They were the voices of the crew of the Dark Lady. Voices that were consciously hiding their misery beneath boisterous laughter and being totally unsuccessful at it.
He sat cross-legged in the grass and continued to stare out over the bay. He felt oddly protected up here—away from the men, the ship, but overlooking it all. Safe, but in control. The feeling passed and he jerked his head up when he heard the sound of someone approaching from behind. Before he could turn a voice spoke and he was strangely at ease to discover it was Lafitte.
Lafitte sat down beside him, his eyes taking in the same view Cloud had been admiring. “I thought I would find you here. You were thinking of her.” It was not a question.
“Yes.” Cloud was startled by his answer. Until then he had not been aware that Alexis had been on his mind. “She had a place like this. On Tortola. She called it her crow’s nest. She would sit there and watch the ships and wait for her friend and plan her future. She always thought she would be safe in her nest…nothing could harm her there.” He paused, drawing in his breath. “She was wrong.”
“And you?” Lafitte asked quietly. “Do you feel that way now? Protected? Safe?”
“I did for a while. Only a moment. There isn’t any place where one can be fully protected.”
“At one time I thought Barataría would offer me that,” Lafitte thought aloud. “A refuge from the rest of the world. It is not like that. The world intrudes.”
Cloud listened to the words, regretful but not bitterly spoken. There was some memory that remained unsaid. He had heard stories about Lafitte’s family, murdered by the Spanish, and now he thought they were true. Lafitte had ceased to allow the world to intrude upon him. Now he made the first move.
Cloud unfolded his legs and stretched them out before him, leaning back on his elbows. He let the silence that seemed to create a seal of friendship over them continue a few minutes longer before he spoke.
“You said you would have news for me when I returned to the house. I assume you did not want to wait to tell me.”
Lafitte nodded. “It is about the British representative. I told you they are anxious for my assistance.”
“You also gave me reason to believe you would not consider it.”
“That has not changed. Alex was correct about me. So were the men who tried to use you. I will help when the time comes. Perhaps the British do not realize it, and I think the Americans are not proud of it but I am an American. There has been no question of it in my mind since Jefferson purchased the Louisiana territory.”
“I’m glad.”
Lafitte laughed but the sound was hollow. “Captain Travers is the representative.”
Cloud sat upright. His fingers dug into the earth. He would have been overjoyed to hear he would meet Travers here but something in Lafitte’s tone warned him.
“You must understand, Tanner, there is no way I can let you exact your vengeance here on Barataría,” he said. “No matter how much I dislike what the British are suggesting, and no matter how much I would like to run Travers through with my own sword, it cannot happen here. I gave my word when the meeting was arranged. I gave it to his superior that whoever was sent would be treated cordially and no harm would come to him or his men.”
“You can’t be serious! You would stop me when he is right under my nose? I can’t believe you mean that.”
“I mean it,” Lafitte answered firmly. “You and your men will be confined to your ship if you cannot give me your word that no harm will come to him while he is here.”
Cloud’s lean fingers curled around a stone. He clenched it a moment then he hurled it toward the water. Perversely it made him angrier when it fell with a soft thud into the sand, several yards short of the incoming tide. He said nothing.
“Your word,” Lafitte persisted. “Do I have it?”
Cloud groaned. “How can you even think of letting that man step foot on your land? How can you expect so much from me when you know what she was to me…to her men…to—”
“To me? Yes, she was special to me. I have followed her since the time she left. I have wanted nothing for her but what she wanted for herself. I have provided her with information. My men have seen that her shipping line prospered in these waters. And still that seems nothing in return for the ill she suffered because some half-witted men sought to destroy me. It will not be easy, having him here, knowing what he did to her, knowing what she has done for me, but I have given my word. Now I am asking yours.”
“How long will he be staying here?” Cloud asked slowly, the beginning of a plan pushing at the edge of his consciousness.
Lafitte did not miss a beat before answering. The same idea had formed long before in his mind. “How long until your ship can be repaired?”
Cloud smiled and turned to face Lafitte. He saw the mocking smile and raised eyebrow greet him. “You have my word. Nothing will happen to Captain Travers so long as he is your guest.”
“Captain, we’ve sighted something off the port bow!” The voice was excited and decidedly English.
The captain pushed away from his desk and examined his first lieutenant with cool disdain. “Something does not tell me much of anything. What is it you think you see?”
“It looks like a body, sir! We cannot be sure. Do you want us to have a look?” The captain sighed. “I’m coming up. Man one of the boats and take it out.”
The lieutenant took his leave and the captain closed his log furiously. First the storm to delay them and now something else to keep them from their assignment. In a sudden burst of frustration, he leaped out of his chair. The delay grated on him and by the time he reached the deck he was in the surly mood his officers and crew were well accustomed to.
He stood at the rail, watching the men row closer to the bobbing object in the distance. The sun’s glare off the placid water made it difficult to see exactly what they were rowing to. The combination of the bright morning sun and the gentle movement of the water also made it difficult to believe there had been a storm the night before. He lifted his telescope and sought out the object again. Still he could not make it out clearly and his men continued to row. Probably nothing more than a piece from a ship that had not been fortunate in the squall. He cursed softly. If they had wasted time for that he would have the first lieutenant’s head.
His men had stopped rowing and one of them was reaching out for the object. The captain adjusted his scope to get a clearer view.
“Bodies,” he announced coldly to the officer at his side.
“Bodies?”
“Plural. Two of them. They are taking them in.” He paused then he lowered the telescope to his side. “They’ve dropped one back in but they are keeping the other. There must be some life left in him.”
“Shall I summon the surgeon?” the lieutenant asked. He wished he had not sounded so concerned. He knew his captain would only cite it later as a weakness. He wondered, not for the first time, how, with all the truly capable and honorable men he could have served under, he had been cast under the ruthless command of the man at his side. I
t was only a brief thought as his attention was drawn to his captain’s answer.
“Wait until we see if he makes it here alive. No use rousing the surgeon if it is only to pronounce the man dead. We have a lot of men capable of that.”
“Yes, sir,” came the quiet reply.
Word of rescue had passed quickly among the crew and now many of them were waiting along the rail in order to get a better look. The boat was raised in short order and the faces of the men viewing the body slumped against one of their mates carried the same expression familiar to the crew of the Dark Lady at each unveiling.
“My God! It’s a woman!” Several voices cried out the discovery at the same instant.
The two sailors on either side of Alexis began to lift her out of the boat but at their touch she raised her head and shook it slowly. When she spoke her voice was hoarse and raspy, not at all like the clear tones that were part of her command.
“Myself,” she said. “I’ll get out myself.”
The men did not release her but they steadied her and allowed her to take a tentative step toward the edge of the boat. She managed that well enough but she hesitated when she realized she would have to jump from the boat to the deck. She glanced at the men at her side and her desire for help was in her glance. They picked her up by the arms and lowered her into the arms of one of the men on the deck. She murmured a thank you and freed herself from his supportive embrace. She looked around at the concerned faces hovering over her. As if the throng of men was not suffocating enough she found the silence even more so. She tried to ignore the nausea in her stomach and the cramping in her muscles. A hand reached out to help her when she thought she would collapse.
“Take her to my cabin,” said the lieutenant when he had pushed through the men. “Henry, get the doctor.”
Alexis heard the words, sensed the concern, and was ready to obey. Then she saw him.
He had just entered the inner circle and the men parted so he had a clear place to stand. He was staring at her as if he had seen a ghost and Alexis thought she must look exactly like such an apparition.
She drew away from the hand at her side. Summoning the last of her strength she walked toward him. Her amber eyes narrowed and locked on his cold black ones.
“Captain Travers,” she said softly. Then she spit on his glossy boots.
Ian Smith looked down at the pale face and almost lifeless form occupying the bunk in his quarters. “Why do you suppose she did it, Dr. Jackson?” he asked.
Hugh Jackson finished hanging Alexis’s wet clothing over the edge of the two available chairs before he answered. “How the hell should I know? You say she called the captain by his name?”
“She did. Then she spit. Then she fainted.” The lieutenant laughed uneasily. “It is not something I am likely to forget. You should have seen our captain’s face. I thought we would be calling you for him.” He waited until Jackson’s laughter had ceased. Their mutual dislike for Travers was something they shared with all but a few of the men aboard, but they only felt comfortable sharing their animosity openly with each other. “How do you suppose they know one another?”
Hugh Jackson sighed. “You are asking questions you should be asking either the captain or this girl. Obviously they’re the only ones with your answers.”
Smith was going to ask about the scars on the girl’s back but he decided against it. It was only another question that was not answerable, at least not yet. He changed the subject.
“Captain Travers wants to know when she will be well enough to be moved. He says she cannot stay here and he wants to put her in the hold.”
“He will have to be patient like the rest of us. She is suffering from mild exposure. Depending on how far along that storm was before she fell overboard she could have been in the water up to twelve hours before we happened along. I can hardly believe she has survived at all. Judging from the marks on her back though, I would say she has been through worse.” He lowered his voice when, as if she could hear him, she stirred. He hastened to her side and secured the blanket where she had kicked it loose, freeing her calf and foot from its confines. “I cannot figure out why he wants her out of sight. What does he think she’ll do?”
“Now you are asking me something I don’t know. Send for me when she comes around. We will decide for ourselves if she is well enough to be taken out of here.”
“Where is the captain now?” asked Jackson.
“In his cabin, cursing the delay and the cause of it. He is determined to be on time to meet Lafitte. Tomorrow afternoon, as scheduled. No matter what.”
Jackson ran his fingers through his dark hair, salted with strands of white. He set his jaw firmly and said through clenched teeth, “Good. The longer he leaves her in our care—the better.”
Ian agreed and left the cabin, intent on finding someone among the crew who could help identify the girl’s relationship to the captain. Six hours later, when he was summoned by the doctor he was none the wiser. Too many of the crew had been with the Follansbee for years and Travers had only assumed command of the frigate eighteen months ago. Furthermore, Travers had discovered the questioning and had warned Smith to end it immediately or suffer the consequences. Since there was only one set of consequences for officers and ordinary men under Travers’s command it had been easy to assure the captain he would not pursue the subject, nor would he question the girl.
Walking into the cabin, he saw Alexis sitting up in bed, sipping broth from a mug.
“I hardly expected to find you up and eating,” he said.
Alexis returned the smile he flashed, remembering this was the man who offered his help before she had seen Travers. He was young, perhaps only ten years older than herself. He had a boyish face, rounded, without the harsh lines of age she would have expected to see among the crew who served the man she hated. He was only slightly taller than she was but he made up for what he lacked in height with a dignity she thought would have been crushed ages ago. His hair was flaxen, his eyes bright blue. They still hinted of some of the eagerness she had often seen in the men who served her—and Cloud.
Suddenly she said, “You haven’t been with him long, have you?”
Eyebrows flew up, blue eyes regarded her curiously. “You mean with Captain Travers?” Alexis nodded. “No, I haven’t. Only in the last six months.”
“I thought so…since you sailed from Liverpool.”
The doctor and the lieutenant exchanged puzzled looks. “That’s right. But how do you know?” asked Smith.
Alexis handed her mug to the doctor and lay back in the bunk, pulling the blankets securely around her. “It is easy to see from your face,” she replied. “You could not have been with him long. You have the look of a man who still enjoys the sea. He would have killed that in you. Now the doctor here, I would guess that he has been with Captain Travers for years. In fact, I will say the gray hairs wouldn’t be on his head if he had been serving with anyone else. A good man will gray, looking upon too many bloody backs.”
Jackson opened his mouth to say something, then he shut it just as quickly. It was true, what she said. But how had she known?
“Our faces don’t explain how you knew I came aboard in Liverpool,” Smith said quickly. He was still too much of an officer to let her know he had wondered how long he could stay with Travers.
“Where else could you have come from?” she asked blithely. “The HMS Follansbee sailed out of Liverpool.”
“Who are you?” asked the lieutenant, forgetting the consequences of his question. He need not have worried. Alexis only graced him with an elusive smile and an equally elusive answer.
“You would not believe me if I told you.”
Jackson started to pursue her statement, but Smith cut him off with a warning glance and a hasty explanation. “Captain ordered that no one talk to her. That includes you.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Alexis said. “Hasn’t he told you anything about me?”
“Nothing.”
> “And he is not likely to. It’s what I would expect from him. He should not be concerned though. I did not intend to blurt everything out.”
Smith briefly wondered what she meant, then he dismissed it. “He does not want you to stay—”
The doctor interrupted, asserting his position. “She can’t be moved. She is not well yet, in spite of her banter. She’s told me she’s given doctors rough times and I believe her. Morning will be soon enough. Maybe even too soon.”
“Moved to where?” asked Alexis. “Is he planning to lock me up somewhere? Can it be he actually fears me?” She almost laughed. The thought was extremely amusing, just as the memory of his indignant, outraged, and finally astonished expression was when she spit on his boots. She’d had only a fleeting moment to view the raised eyebrows, the cold, piercing eyes the hawk-like nose, nostrils flared in anger, the thin, cruel lips, parted for an instant as he uttered an oath. She had only seen those things briefly before she’d fainted, but now she recalled them and allowed herself to enjoy them to the fullest.
Smith shook his head. He laughed lightly, though somehow uncomfortably, at the ludicrous suggestion that Travers feared anyone. Certainly not this slender woman with unusual amber eyes that were almost gold in certain lights. He tore his own eyes away from hers. How strange they were. He thought about them no more, but when he spoke to her he fastened his attention on some point on the wall behind her.
“You will have to get your answers from the captain. He will want to talk to you in the morning.”
“That should be all right,” she said more to herself than to her companions. “I should be able to greet him properly by then.”
Her speech had the clarity and resonance of a person deep in thought. Both men noticed she seemed to have dismissed them. The doctor rose from the side of her bed and found more blankets to cover her. She thanked him absently. It was some time after they had gone before she noticed their absence.