Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  Emerald had no cause to doubt him. “Yet he and his officials have the gall to hang pirates,” she fumed. “They find piracy an embarrassment to their own noble cause of smuggling to the colonists against Madrid’s wishes. Governor Modyford should be informed, even if they don’t believe us.”

  “And have our own necks stretched? Sink me if’n you think I’ll chatter. Lord Felix is a powerful man, m’gal. In London he dines with His Majesty, and here on Jamaica he sups with Governor Modyford.” He touched his bump. “I’ve been warned. A titled man is to be left alone.”

  “They didn’t leave Viscount Royce Buckington alone,” she said thoughtfully. “And I doubt if Felix plans to leave Baret free to sail the Caribbean either—if he can stop him.”

  Zeddie turned his head away, straightening his black eye-patch. “Nonetheless, I’ve my orders from Karlton to keep an eye on you, and that’s job enough for a man with new aches in his old joints. I seen the carrion still roosting on the crossbar at Gallows Point, just waiting for the next rogue to dangle, and it ain’t going to be me if I can help it.”

  “If the governor suspected Lord Felix of smuggling,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Zeddie or Minette, “it might give him the leverage he needs to keep Felix from running things in the council. When it comes to Spain, I happen to know the governor would prefer to issue commissions to the buccaneers. It’s Felix that puts a curb on the governor.”

  “Vapors,” said Minette. “You’re right. Having something like smuggling to hold over his lordship might even make a difference when it comes to the way the Admiralty Court treats Captain Buckington. Do you suppose it was this that Uncle Karlton was secretly musing about?”

  “But who’d take our word against Lord Felix, if it came to that?” He cocked his eye toward them. “You want to take on the likes of Felix? Earl Nigel has complaints enough that his son Royce was a pirate. Do you think he’ll let loose of Felix too? With Baret followin’ the ways of his father, the earl doesn’t have anyone left except Felix and little Jette.”

  He emptied his cup of coffee and added, when Emerald mused in silence, “I wouldn’t worry none about Captain Buckington. The man’s as smart as they come. It’s my guess he knows his uncle through and through. And he’s probably already knowing about smuggling—among other things just as black and odorous, like Lord Felix betraying his father to the Spaniards. To be sure, if Captain Buckington shows up to see the governor, it’ll likely be because he has know-how enough to dodge any plans Felix has for his dangling.”

  Emerald wasn’t as confident as Zeddie. The thought of Baret’s death left her cold.

  15

  IN DARKNESS AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH

  Emerald listened, eyes and ears straining for the sound that had jarred her awake. She sat up, peering into the moonlit darkness toward the small door that faced the steep flight of steps.

  Hearing little more than the familiar, raucous noises coming from Port Royal’s gaming and bawdy houses, she decided there was nothing to disturb her. By now Zeddie would be asleep in the chair near the front door. The knowledge that he slept with pistol at hand gave her a sense of security.

  “Gamblers and rum drinkers,” she murmured wearily and prepared to turn over and go back to sleep. Returning to Foxemoore would at least mean pleasant summer nights, she thought, fluffing her pillow. Oh, for the comforting trill of songbirds and the bright morning chatter of parrots instead of pistol shots!

  The humidity made her restless. Unable to return to sleep, she arose from the lumpy bed, quietly, so as not to awaken Minette, and went to the window. The wind was pleasant, and she lingered there, letting it cool her moist skin.

  Watching the moon reflect on the shiny, dark swells of the bay brought the Madeleine to mind. She felt a pang when she thought of her father’s departure. By now he would be well out at sea on his mysterious voyage to meet with Baret. Just what did the governor’s call for a reconnaissance expedition along the Main entail?

  She mused over the extent of Baret’s dangerous mission with Henry Morgan, and a frown touched her brow. What would be involved in that? How far into Spanish territorial waters were they expecting to venture? And what of his previous buccaneering undertakings on the Venezuelan coast? Was the governor expecting to overlook this, or was this matter about Morgan some sort of trap to lure him here to arrest him?

  A pistol shot rang out, reminding her of the danger that encircled them all. Then the late night closed in, hot, humid, saturating the cramped crow’s nest. High atop the lookout house, a gust of wind thrashed the outer wall facing the Caribbean.

  Then Emerald saw a man moving away from the outside steps below. She took a small step back. There was something familiar about his walk, something that caused her to skin to crawl. Mr. Pitt? What was he doing here this hour of the night? The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

  He was dragging something—a body?—toward the sand! Her heart leaped to her throat. Awareness of what had awakened her dawned, bringing terror.

  It had not been rum-sodden revelers on the beach but some struggle downstairs. Her subconscious had reacted by looking toward the door because in her sleep that was where the awful sound had come from. And now the man who looked like Mr. Pitt was striding toward the house.

  She turned from the window, her face pale. A ribbon of moonlight across the wooden floor seemed to point toward Minette’s pallet. It was empty.

  “Lord, protect us,” she prayed desperately, her knees going weak. She sped to where she kept the new pistol Baret had given her. She lighted a candle with shaking hand and then struggled with clumsy fingers to load the gun with powder. From below, she heard heavy boots boldly coming up the outer steps.

  Emerald cast aside thought for her own safety and came out the crow’s nest door, the wood beneath her bare feet still warm from the day’s heat. Below the shadowed stairs, a glowing lantern cast swaying shadows on the bare wall.

  “So you had to investigate, did you?” Mr. Pitt’s gravelly voice sounded from downstairs. “I should send you to work cane with the rest of the slaves. You’d learn a thing or two, fast! But no, you and Karlton’s brat parade Port Royal like you’re both high-flung ladies. You’ll tell me what she’s done with her cousin’s jewels, or I’ll go up and force it out of her.”

  “We have no jewels, Mr. Pitt. No jewels at all. They—they was taken.”

  “Taken, eh? Sure they were. By Emerald. From Levasseur’s ship. She has ’em. I heard that French pirate raging against her thievery at the Red Goose last night.”

  “He’s lying. We have nothing—”

  “She comes back sporting silks and lace. She has the jewels all right, and you both expect to slip away to London with ’em. You’re coming with me to Foxemoore!”

  “No! I won’t go with you, Mr. Pitt, and you can’t make me.”

  “No?”

  Minette cried out.

  Emerald heard him slap her and then the sound of a body falling to the floor. Her fear turned to anger. The odious brute! She started down the stairs, holding the pistol ready at her side, surprised at how well it fit her grip. She paused halfway down the steps, seeing Pitt towering over Minette, who lay sprawled at the bottom.

  “So pleasing me is too good for you, eh?”

  “You dare touch my cousin?” Emerald demanded in a too-calm voice. “I’ll have you arrested for breaking into my father’s house.”

  Pitt turned to look up, his full attention now on Emerald. His eyes hardened. “So. Li’l Saint Emerald’s finally awake,” he slurred. “Been sayin’ your prayers and readin’ the Book, ‘ave you? Get down here, m’lady. We have us a matter to talk about.”

  His sweating face was flushed with rum. His lank, reddish hair stuck to his forehead. His stained shirt was open, and his chest heaved. He walked around the banister and stopped at the foot of the stair, one foot on the bottom step and a leer across his leathery face.

  “You’ve forgotten something, m’lady,” he jeered. �
��We had us a li’l bargain before you upped and ran away on Foxworth’s ship with my share of jewels. I’m wantin’ them now, as my patience has come to its end.”

  Don’t panic, she thought. She had handled Mr. Pitt before, and with the Lord’s help she could do it again. She was disturbed, however, that he’d suddenly turned so bold. Did he know her father was gone? Still, Papa had sailed from Jamaica many times, leaving her alone on Foxemoore, and Mr. Pitt had never been this impudent before. But perhaps on those occasions he’d not been lusting for Spanish treasure that he supposed she had taken from Levasseur’s ship.

  Minette had taken those jewels, but Baret had them now. Would Pitt believe her?

  She decided to buy time, hoping against hope that Zeddie—where was Zeddie?—would return in time to help her. “You’re drunk,” she told him flatly. “If Lady Sophie knew, she’d remove you from being overseer at once. As an indentured servant, you’d go straight back to work in the boiling house.”

  “Indentured servant, eh? Hah! Not for long, m’lady. My time at Foxemoore ends come January, an’ Governor Modyford is issuing grants. I’ve some money set aside for working on the side of Sir Jasper, an’ with my share of the jewels I’m buying Jamaica land.”

  “Work on the side for Sir Jasper!” she scoffed. “Doing what? Smuggling slaves and rum to Spanish colonists? And what will Governor Modyford do if he should find out you and Sir Jasper were involved in smuggling human beings from that Dutch slaving ship?”

  His eyes studied her. “I wouldn’t go talking like that if I was you, m’lady. It ain’t just Sir Jasper whose neck is at stake but a few big barracuda too. It may be you’ll find yourself locked away in Brideswell for piracy along with Foxworth.”

  “You won’t frighten me, Mr. Pitt. My father’s working for Governor Modyford now. And Earl Nigel’s grandson isn’t likely to be arrested—not when the governor’s calling for his return to Port Royal on business for His Majesty.”

  He smiled. “For His Majesty, eh? Is that what he told you? If the ‘earl’s grandson,’ as you want to call Foxworth, unwisely shows himself, it will be because it’s part of the plan to arrest him. Lord Felix and Sir Jasper is more clever than that, m’lady. And now, the jewels you owe me.”

  Had her father been deceived, then? Had Lord Felix only used Governor Modyford as a trap? What if the governor was not even aware of Henry Morgan’s expedition? But that wasn’t possible, for Earl Nigel was involved as well.

  “They have plans,” he said. “And I have some of my own. If Jasper can climb to the planter gentry, then so can I. Aye, m’lady, and have myself a fine miss in my chamber too.”

  “Jasper’s sugar holdings don’t make him a gentleman. And no matter that you buy land—you’ll remain a smuggler just like him.”

  “Fine chatter coming from a pirate’s brat. Levasseur’s jewels …” he reminded her impatiently. “I spared Ty’s life with only a branding when I might’ve hanged him. You went slipping off with the jewels on Foxworth’s ship, but your little scheme didn’t end well, now, did it? Jamie’s dead, and Foxworth don’t dare show his face or he’ll be arrested and hanged. So suppose you just hand over what you owe me.”

  “I don’t have any jewels. As for the ‘bargain,’ you didn’t keep it. You vowed you wouldn’t have Ty branded, and you blamed the slave rebellion on him and Jamie. Neither were involved. Jamie may be dead, but Ty is still wanted by Lord Felix. If there’s a bargain to be kept, it’s left to you to tell him Ty is innocent.”

  “Ty will hang for sure if he shows himself in Port Royal, same as Foxworth. A bargain is a bargain. He’s alive, ain’t he? That’s more’n can be said for your father. What are you squawking about? I’ve plans to do you well enough—and Minette too, if you cooperate.”

  She tensed. “What are you saying? Not that I have any reason to believe you. You’d lie just to frighten me.”

  He grinned up at her. “I don’t need to frighten you, m’lady. Lord Felix will do that when he puts you in Brideswell to lure Foxworth back. What I say is the truth. I was always a gentleman, now, wasn’t I? And I aim to become more of a gentleman, just as soon as you keep your part of our bargain made that afternoon on the road at Foxemoore.”

  Her heart was thudding, for something in his eyes told her he was not lying this time. “What about my father?” she pursued warily.

  “Don’t listen to him, Emerald,” cried Minette suddenly. “He’s already told me, and it can’t be true. It just can’t be.”

  Minette’s cry only caused Emerald’s fear to spiral out of control. Except for Geneva, there were few in the family she trusted, including her own pirate cousin, Rafael Levasseur.

  Pitt started up the steps.

  Emerald raised the pistol so that he could see it. “Get out.”

  He halted, eying the weapon, but then looked at her long and steadily. “Oh, I’m leavin’ all right, but with the jewels, an’ you an’ the African wench is comin’ with me. I’m claimin’ you both, and who’s to stop me now, eh?”

  Whatever would make him entertain such ideas? The kill-devil rum?

  “A li’l saint wouldn’t go splattering the brains outa poor Mr. Pitt, now, would she? Not the saint who wants to turn the babble of the Africans into the music of angels!”

  She held the pistol aimed and steady. “I don’t need to kill you. I’d be justified in wounding you if you intend to harm me or Minette. There are no jewels here. If you want them, you can go to Tortuga and threaten Captain Buckington, seeing as how he took them from me for safekeeping. But I doubt you have the courage to face Baret Buckington. Now get out of here before I’m forced to maim you.”

  His teeth showed in an ugly smile. “Big talk from a li’l saint. Your poor papa is dead, m’lady, an’ if you wish to do some crying, my shoulder is more willing than even Foxworth’s. I don’t see him here to protect you.”

  Her mind reeled.

  “You and the slave wench is alone now,” he said, slowly coming up the steps. “An’ you need me to take care of you, m’lady. Best give me that pistol before you hurt somebody.”

  “You’re out of your senses,” she said, her voice shaking. “He’s not dead. He left for Tortuga to find Captain Buckington. Rum has fevered your brain.”

  “Outa my mind, am I? I saw the whole thing. But I ain’t tellin’ what I know to the militiamen until you divvy up like we bargained. I’m telling you there isn’t anything going to keep me from buying land Modyford is willing to sell. This is my chance, and nobody’s going to ruin things.”

  “He’s not dead,” she whispered.

  “That one-eyed nape Zeddie nearly got himself killed spying on Sir Jasper and his lordship. They was taking no more chances, with your father prowling about and ready to report everything to the governor. I was trailing Zeddie tonight, at Jasper’s orders. Soon as him and Karlton parted company, someone shot your father in the back. I heard the pistol shot, m’lady. An’ I went back to see what happened. He was shot straight through the heart. Last I seen, about an hour ago, militiamen were hauling his body away.”

  She stared down at him, her mind’s eye envisioning her beloved father lying breathless and bloodstained. Her protector, friend, and strength had been taken from her. As swiftly as a hurricane could leave a house a bundle of scattered sticks, her hopes, once thought secure in the love of her one parent, had been ripped from her.

  The confident face of Mr. Pitt stared back, reminding her of a vulture, waiting.

  The cause for his impudent boldness made sense now. He would never say these things about Sir Jasper and Lord Felix if he didn’t feel certain he could protect himself and make good his plans. If her father were alive, he would fear to threaten her like this. He believed he could get away with it. The gleam in his eyes convinced her that he spoke the truth about her father’s death.

  He took another step upward. “M’lady, you’re all alone now, you and the wench both. You need me, and I’m willing to be a friend. I can use an African wench for a
maid, and I’m willing to marry you and give you a home. Foxworth will hang. But even if he don’t, he won’t keep that dueling bargain. He has himself a hankering for Miss Lavender.”

  All alone. Shock held her unable to move, staring into his face, the hand holding the pistol gone limp. Not even his words of marriage jarred her with their absurdity. Her father was dead.

  Below them, Minette hovered in terror, now gripping the banister. “Emerald, he’s got no mind to marry you, but make you his mistress. Fire the pistol!”

  Her father was dead…

  Pitt struck the weapon from her lifeless hand, and the metal clattered cold and hard onto the steps. Emerald came awake as his bearlike arms clamped about her and his sweaty face came down on hers, smothering her cry of horror. She clawed at him, struggling to free herself.

  “I got nothing to lose to kill you!” Minette’s voice was oddly calm. Pistol in hand, she gazed up at Pitt with eyes gleaming like slits of burning amber. “I’d soon be hanged as see you have Emerald and me be your slaves!”

  Sobered, Pitt jerked away, and Emerald sank onto a step.

  “You’re an evil man, Mr. Pitt. You blamed my brother for something he didn’t do. You branded him on the forehead like a man does his cattle. And now you think to have Emerald and me?”

  “Put that away, you little fool.” He lunged downward, but Emerald threw herself against his arm. He lost his footing and went stumbling against the wall.

  A shot rang out, and Emerald heard a gasping intake of air.

  Pitt stiffened, then quivered with spasms and slumped down on the steps. The smell of gunpowder and a small puff of whitish-gray smoke hung ominously over the stairway.

  Emerald drew back, leaning against the banister, her eyes wide. A foreboding silence clutched at the room. Then she became aware of the wind, sending the front door creaking to and fro.

  Pitt was conscious. He sat looking at Minette, blood seeping from a wound above his right collarbone.

  Minette still clutched the pistol with both hands, her face white, her gaze transfixed. A moment later she took to weeping and shaking.