Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  There came an interrupting growl from the English.

  A smirk played about Levasseur’s thin mustache, and he looked pointedly at Karlton. “—suggest that luck has nothing to do with the success of your game, monsieur! You, who sired a daughter by my father’s sister, have turned both a cheat and thief. I pronounce you an English dog!”

  The men in the room were alert for excitement and danger. The French pirates under Levasseur stood watching.

  Karlton glowered, showing bewilderment, then caution. “Levasseur, what is this you dare accuse me of? I’ve not cheated a day in my life.” He looked across the table to the Frenchman he had played with. “Go ahead, Pierre. Look at the deck if you believe the words of your captain.”

  Levasseur stepped closer to the gaming table and pointed again. “You have also stolen jewels from my ship to pay your debts.”

  The room fell totally silent. Every eye turned to fix upon the two men.

  Sir Karlton stood, pushing back his chair. “If it’s a duel you’re asking for, you shall have it.”

  Captain Levasseur smiled coldly, his black eyes sparkling with energy. “And in return, should I best you, monsieur, it is for the hand of Emerald.”

  Baret’s mouth curved. “No need to prove yourself, Sir Karlton,” he interrupted smoothly and turned to Levasseur. “May I suggest you reconsider your hasty challenge, Captain. Take your crew and return to your ship.”

  Levasseur whirled toward Baret, his surprise showing. He scanned him, and a lean smile played on his face. “Ah! Captain Foxworth!”

  Baret offered a mocking bow. “At your service. It is you, Levasseur, who should explain the ways of a thief, not Sir Karlton. You who have cowardly taken a lady’s dowry and had years to repent and return it. And I do not take lightly your betrayal of one of the Brethren,” he added, gesturing toward Karlton. “After all, if we cannot trust one another,” he said with irony, “who can we trust? The High Admiralty Court?”

  Laughter bellowed, but Levasseur grew sober.

  “I do believe the Admiralty would like to see us both twisting in the wind,” said Baret.

  Levasseur gave him a measured look, as though Baret were forcing a fight—which he was.

  Levasseur’s smile was tinged with scorn as he stepped away from the gaming table to face him. “Are you now His Majesty’s English agent against France, that you should seek to provoke me? If I thought it needful, I would come boldly and take you aboard your ship!”

  “Then you may be bold now, Captain Levasseur.”

  “A duel, Foxworth! I demand it.”

  Baret’s blade whispered from his scabbard like silk.

  The sea rovers stepped back, excited as always at the possibility of a fight, and Karlton turned and faced Levasseur’s crew with a warning.

  “And there’ll be no help from any of you, however it goes, or you’ll have this sword to contend with as well.”

  They retreated further, cautiously, snarling like lions.

  Baret remained near the door, his gaze fixed on Levasseur, who was known for unexpectedly hurling daggers. Baret’s hand moved for easy access to the narrow stiletto in a wrist-sheath strapped along his left forearm. Immediately the gaming tables were deserted as men and their wenches drew back toward the walls to watch with hearty appetites.

  “A thousand pieces of eight says Levasseur takes ’im!”

  “Fifteen ’undred says ’e don’t!”

  The front door opened with a tropical gust of wind and rain, and heads swiveled impatiently at the interruption. Their expressions at once gave way to sobriety.

  A robust figure in green satin stood in the doorway like a king. His heavy dark brows were lowering above eyes that were granite hard and shrewd. His wide mustache was thick and curled slightly at the tips above a full mouth. His hair was well groomed, cut straight across at chin length and paged smoothly under. He wore a wide-brimmed hat of maroon velvet, and his coat was also velvet, black with maroon trim.

  “It’s Morgan,” came the murmur.

  Henry Morgan’s brows lifted as he took in the scene, a mocking expression on his deeply tanned face. “Aye, ’tis me, ye daw cocks! Put away your sword, Levasseur!” He glanced at Baret. “You too, Foxworth.” He strode into the room in full command, glowering about with scorn.

  “Will ye go killing yourselves instead of the Spaniards?”

  “It was Levasseur,” one crewman stated sullenly. “He baited Sir Karlton, insulting him. Foxworth tried to stop him.”

  “I can speak for myself, Sawyer,” said Baret. “But he’s correct. Half the Brethren will swear to it.”

  “He lies, and I shall have his tongue,” said Levasseur.

  “Enough! I’m not caring who started it, but it ends now! Or I’ll flay the bones of you both. You’ll make peace—now—both of you, like the Articles demand. You, Levasseur! You French peacock! Put up your sword! We’ve the Spanish fleet to think of—and gold!” He strode toward the buccaneers circling the room and waved his arm. “There’ll be few broad pieces of eight for any of us if either Foxworth or Levasseur is killed. We’ll need them both for the next campaign.”

  As Baret looked on, he saw how easily Henry Morgan commanded attention. He was a born leader. The Brethren no longer appeared to care about the cause for the duel. With scarcely more than a few shrugs and a lowering glance, they turned full concentration on Captain Morgan.

  Baret lowered the point of his sword at the same time as Levasseur. They gestured a courtly bow toward each other. Then Levasseur strode across the room to a table and tossed down his hat. His French crew followed, gathering about the table.

  Morgan walked up to Sir Karlton Harwick and threw a big arm about his shoulder. “So it’s true, Karlton, you beleaguered old wolf. You’ve lost your cunning at last! Your merchant ship was boarded by Don Marcos Julian Enrico!”

  “Aye, and I hope one day to meet him again at sea!”

  Baret’s attention strayed as the door opened with another gust of wind.

  Emerald!

  He watched her enter—though she did not see him—keeping to a shadowed corner of the room and using her deep hood to conceal her hair and face.

  She glanced about as though looking for someone. Her gaze fell upon Levasseur, and he stood, offering a bow and gesturing an arm toward his table. “All is well, my cousin!”

  But she jerked her head away. And when she saw her father, her boldness returned, and she swept across the floor in his direction as though a princess.

  Baret smiled faintly. She handled herself well for a mere girl of sixteen. He suspected that she would do quite well in London as she grew to maturity.

  “Aye, ’tis Harwick’s pert brat from his French mistress,” came a clear voice. “Don’t be so uppity now, sweetheart! Come ’ave a smidgen of rum with Levasseur’s brother.”

  Her seeming indifference to the roomful of buccaneers faltered, and Baret saw her hesitate, then walk on amid appreciative laughter.

  “Aye, a round of cheers for Harwick’s daughter!”

  Baret looked on, knowing Karlton was likely to respond to the insult. He did not want Levasseur to know of his own interest, for the Frenchman would move more quickly to own her and he himself could not.

  He didn’t need to wait long for Karlton’s wrath. Her father turned, his feet apart, one hand on his hip, the other clasping his sword.

  “You’ll apologize to Lady Harwick, Cutler, or I’ll corpse you for daring!”

  The seaman sobered and glanced from Karlton to Morgan, who this time also stood glowering. A tense silence held the room’s occupants for the second time as Karlton waited.

  “I’ll duel any man who dares to cast a shadow on my daughter’s reputation.”

  “Papa, no,” she called bravely. “Do you think I care what these vile pirates think?”

  There was laughter. “She put you in your place, Cutler,” said one.

  Then the strain ebbed like waves withdrawing to sea. Cutler offered a deep bow
toward Emerald.

  “Beg pardon, gal—I means—me lady Harwick.”

  A few subdued chuckles were heard. Some turned their backs and resumed their dice throwing.

  Baret watched her. What was she doing here?

  She brushed past the men to Sir Karlton’s side and took hold of his arm. Her words were inaudible.

  But Karlton glowered and said, “Is it not enough your father keeps company with the devil’s men? What brought you here, lass?”

  Baret wondered if she would cringe beneath her father’s hot scowl, but undaunted she faced him boldly, urging him with whatever purpose had brought her.

  Sir Karlton did not see Baret standing near the door. Baret allowed him to walk past, for he wished to speak alone with Morgan.

  As her father led her out of the gaming room, Emerald must have sensed Baret’s gaze, for her eyes turned to meet his, and a startled expression turned to a blush.

  Baret smiled and swept off his wide-brimmed hat and bowed.

  She tore her eyes from his and, drawing her cloak firmly about her, walked briskly across the floor beside Sir Karlton.

  His resounding voice could be heard: “The fault be not mine—I’ve told you you’re not to venture into such places. The sooner I take you from here, the better. And after this night, London cannot come too soon. I’ll put you in a finishing school. You’ll marry nobility if I die seein’ to it!”

  Baret watched them disappear through the doorway. So Karlton was indeed serious about teaching her the ways of London society and passing her on to some nobleman.

  He remembered how well she had worn the velvet frock at the ball. She had been Lavender’s equal. He frowned a little. Karlton could easily manage a marriage for his daughter in England, but not all the gentlemen who were likely to take up the gauntlet were trustworthy.

  As they left the gaming house, the rain lashed Emerald’s face. She held her hood in place and allowed her father to lead her toward the waiting buggy. She climbed onto the seat beside Minette and picked up the reins.

  Karlton frowned, the rain bouncing off the brim of his hat. “So that’s the cause bringing you here. It’s ill news. Go to the lookout and stay until I come for you. I’ll need go to Foxemoore to look into this ugly matter of the uprising. The loss of Mathias is a bitter cup. Beatrice too,” he said of his cousin. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”

  Emerald could have told him that the slaves were all against Mr. Pitt, but he already knew as much. He had previously tried to convince Geneva to get rid of him.

  Her eyes saddened as she glanced at her father. This was good-bye, but she could not bring herself to tell him about Jamie, knowing he would utterly refuse to let her meet him as planned.

  Yet, despite her determination, she was troubled about her silence and struggled with the dilemma, telling herself she would write him from Boston. Surely he would forgive her when he learned by letter how happy she was.

  “I’ll speak to Geneva and arrange your safe passage with her and Lavender to England. With the death of her mother, Lavender will be wanting to sail as soon as weather permits. Geneva can arrange to send you on to Berrymeade. And I’ll come for you when I’ve made our fortune.”

  She reached a loving hand toward his strong arm. “Papa …”

  He was obviously anxious to be off and looked at her, agitated.

  Suddenly Emerald leaned down and threw her arms around his strong neck, kissing his bearded cheek, feeling the rain on his skin. “I love you, Papa.”

  “Now what’s this, little one? One would think I was sailing away for good. It won’t be long. The time is coming when my debts will be paid. I’ll own my portion of Foxemoore full and free—then we’ll both be returning to what’s rightfully ours with heads high,” he said. “And when we drive up in a fine carriage, lass, you’ll have attended the finest finishing school in London, and you’ll be wearing a pretty frock—not the rich satin of a Port Royal lass but the dress of a ‘real’ lady. And you’ll have your pick of the lords. But it’ll be Baret—you’ll see.”

  Emerald smiled tenderly as she looked down at him. “Yes, Father … of course we will. And … and would you ask Lord Buckington to see Zeddie safely to Foxemoore?”

  Karlton gave her a sharp look. “Zeddie? Isn’t he at the lookout?”

  “Well … not exactly.”

  “Did I not free him from indentured service to be your bodyguard?”

  “Well … Zeddie is aboard the Regale. He’s … um … a guest, waiting for the viscount to return. He insisted Zeddie stay awhile. But I would like Zeddie returned soon. You’ll ask the viscount?”

  Karlton squinted at her, as though trying to make sense of her explanation, but Emerald kissed his cheek again.

  “Until later, Papa, good-bye.” She drew away quickly, before her expression revealed her troubled spirit, and flicked the reins. The horse trotted onto the wet cobbles of High Street.

  She looked back several times until the form of her father disappeared in the rain-sodden darkness.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered again.

  Baret left Morgan and stepped from the gaming house, feeling the rain beat against his face. At the moment he did not mind, for it cooled his inflamed emotions like water sizzling on seething coals.

  He stood beneath the sign “The Spanish Galleon,” which was being hammered by the wind, and lowered his hat against the rain, feeling it run down his neck.

  From out of the darkness a figure carrying a fishing lantern shuffled toward the gaming house from the direction of the harbor. The golden light swayed in the wind like an apparition from the churning sea. Hob, rain pouring from the rim of his battered hat while the wind whipped the frayed edge of his thigh-length coat, saw Baret and quickened his steps.

  “Stormy weather be not all bad, y’r lordship. Churning of the sea be likely to cast up more’n just muck and seaweed. Sometime it cast up an odd sort of fish, if you go askin’ me opinion.”

  Hob leaned toward him, his low voice garbled in the wind. “Trouble in the tavern tonight ’twas all a bluff on Levasseur’s part to make some in the Brotherhood think there be trouble aplenty with Karlton and you.”

  Baret considered this surprising news, trying to decide if he believed it or not. Regardless of the dispute with Karlton, Baret was not friendly with Levasseur.

  “Levasseur’s sent a man askin’ you to row out to his ship. Says Maynerd’s brother be with him. The two of ’em has signed articles. Levasseur be wantin’ you to sign too.”

  Baret looked at him sharply. Maynerd’s brother with Levasseur?

  “Levasseur vows he and Maynerd be knowin’ where Lucca be now and how you can find him on the Main. It don’t be sounding good, me lordship—I means Captain Foxworth. And ain’t be all he knows, says he. Says your father be alive.”

  His father—alive!

  “Says Lucca be knowin’ just where your father be now.”

  Baret wasn’t foolish enough to trust Levasseur, but the pirate’s appetite for Spanish treasure could be the means of securing the information he needed. Baret had anticipated that the talk of rich treasure would bait certain men in the Brotherhood into quietly seeking information on their own about the true fate of Captain Royce Buckington and Lucca, but he had overlooked Levasseur’s taking the bait.

  Nevertheless the man might be able to help him. Since Levasseur was French, he could come and go freely at the French buccaneering stronghold of Tortuga, whereas the English were not welcome now that France was likely to side with the Dutch in the threat of war against England.

  “Where is Maynerd’s brother now? With Levasseur?”

  “Aye, aboard Levasseur’s ship. ’Tis a strange bit o’ news, more to be told,” said Hob and glanced about in the rainy darkness.

  “Ah?”

  “Seems Maynerd’s younger brother be Jamie Bradford. And now Jamie be Levasseur’s new lieutenant. Be a strange earful, seem’ how Jamie ain’t a sea rover like Charlie was.”

&
nbsp; Baret thought of Emerald. There couldn’t be two Jamie Bradfords in all Jamaica. So this was the poor indentured servant that she had asked him to save from Mr. Pitt!

  His eyes narrowed under his black lashes. She had risked boarding the Regale to help not only Ty but Maynerd’s brother. Just how deep did her feelings run for this man Jamie? The fact that he had gone to Levasseur with the news of Lucca revealed that Jamie Bradford was not above working with a ruthless pirate.

  Hob’s shrewd eyes fixed on him. “You ought to be knowin’ something else. Sir Karlton’s pert lass be involved.”

  Baret felt his irritation rise. “Involved in what way?” he asked evenly.

  “The lass got a message from Jamie tellin’ her to meet him tonight in the longboat. Says he’s bought em’ both passage to the New England colony. But it be Captain Levasseur’s pirate ship they be sailin’ on.”

  “She doesn’t know that?”

  Hob grinned. “She be as naive as a tweety bird fallen from its mama’s nest, me lordship. Only I be thinkin’ … it be no secret about Port Royal that her cousin Levasseur be wantin’ her for his own. Been all kind of trouble between Sir Karlton and Levasseur over Miss Emerald. Maybe Jamie Boy don’t know this, but Levasseur, he be usin’ Jamie to get himself information about Lucca and the treasure—and to get Miss Emerald aboard too. An’ when Levasseur be done with need-in’ Jamie Boy … well, Cap’n Foxworth, you be followin’ my mind well enough.”

  Baret had followed it indeed. He smiled faintly. “Well done, old friend. And just where is she to meet ‘Jamie Boy’?”

  “On the dock tonight.”

  23

  SMUGGLERS

  Emerald paced the darkened wharf, shielding herself as best she could from the rain. She was disguised so as not to be easily recognized should anyone be foolish enough to be walking the waterfront in the downpour. She wore a veil and readjusted the deep hood of her black cloak so that it further obscured her identity. Minette had run ahead for news of the longboat bringing Jamie.