She’d come on deck before the pirates stirred, hoping for a moment of peace in which she could worship her Father and lay her petitions before His almighty throne. Somehow it seemed much easier to bow before Him with the majesty of His creation sprawled out before her rather than in her stifling cabin below. She thought of Reverend Thomas and smiled at how pleased he would be if he could see her reading her Bible and praying on her own—and receiving answers as well.
“Father, I know You are with me, and I know You are with Frederick. Please help me during those times I doubt You, when I allow fear to consume me.”
The Restitution lurched over a white-capped swell showering her with a spray of salty water. Despite the chill, she smiled, sensing it was naught but a playful splash from God. Did He play with his children like earthy fathers did? She liked to think so.
“Lord, regarding Sawkins. Thank you for his offer of marriage. You truly do give us the desires of our hearts. But is this from you? Something about him disturbs me.” Isabel held her stomach, trying to quell a sudden curdling.
As if in reply, a shifting boom groaned above her, and a blast of wind flapped the sails. A bell chimed eight times, echoing across the sea like an ominous toll that sent a shiver across her back.
She thought of Hann. “And thank you for Hann, but please protect her from these men.”
A dark shape moved beside her and she jumped.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am.” Caleb bowed and clasped his hands together. He turned to leave.
“Caleb,” Isabel beckoned him. “Please stay for a moment. I’d like to speak with you.” She’d been curious about the black man ever since she’d come aboard.
“Yes’am.” He faced her but did not raise his gaze.
“Weren’t you once a slave on this ship?” Isabel pulled from her memory a vision of a man chained at the angles swabbing the deck—a man she’d hardly given notice to the last time she’d been aboard.
“Aye, ma’am.” Caleb shifted his bare feet across the hard wood.
“You are no longer in chains?”
“No, ma’am. The cap’n freed me.” He fumbled with his hands, and Isabel noticed how large and bulky his fingers were compared with the rest of him.
Isabel could not imagine Kent performing such a kind deed. “Freed?”
“He made me his steward.” Pride lifted his voice.
“Indeed.” Isabel drew a deep breath of dewy air. Why would Kent do such a thing? “Caleb, I wanted to thank you for stepping forward in Hann’s defense the other day. It was quite noble of you.”
“Ah, ’twas nothing, ma’am.” Caleb looked down. “I didn’t hep much. The others don’t pay much mind t’ me.”
“That you risked your life at all was more than enough.” Isabel studied the tall, skinny man. She sensed a strength in him, squashed and trampled by years of abuse. “You are no longer a slave, Caleb. Don’t let the others bully you around. You must command their respect.”
“Aye, that’s what the captain tells me.” Caleb grinned, and his white teeth lit up the morning.
“For once I agree with him.” Isabel noted the twinkle in Caleb’s dark eyes. She got the impression he waited to be dismissed. “Thank you Caleb. That will be all.”
“Yes’am.” He bowed and ambled off into the mist.
Facing the sea again, Isabel returned to her prayers, her thoughts in turmoil. “Lord, can I trust Kent? He baffles me, frightens me and yet, he has shown evidence of genuine kindness. I don’t know what to think.”
Heavy footsteps thudded behind her. They halted, approached, then halted again before growing louder.
The sun peered over the horizon in a brilliant arch of yellow, casting its rays over the sea, dissipating her fears along with the fog.
A tingle coursed through Isabel as Kent eased beside her, brushing his arm against hers. For a moment he said nothing. A wisp of air fluttered over them showering her with his scent of leather and spice.
“Milady.” His deep voice slid over the salty breeze.
“Captain.”
He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back as the ship rolled over a swell. She flinched.
“If I make you nervous, I’ll leave.”
“Nay,” she snapped. “I mean…leave if you wish, but you no longer frighten me.”
“That gives me great pleasure.” He smiled.
Flecks of gold flickered in his dark eyes as sincerity warmed his gaze, and something else, something sad. She knew he thought of that night, and she shifted her glance away. She’d been so terrified of him then. Which of them had changed?
He scratched the stubble peppering his chin. “Did I interrupt your prayers?”
Isabel tossed him a curious look. “How did you know?”
“Your face carries a glow about it when you pray.”
“Indeed?”
“Aye, there is something different about you. Perhaps Merrick’s God serves you well.”
Isabel couldn’t help but smile. “He is everyone’s God, not just Merrick’s, and He does not serve me, I serve Him.” Kent returned her smile, the curve of his lips matching Frederick’s so exactly, it sent a burst of longing through her.
“And yet, when you call to Him, as with your appeal for the wind—”Kent waved a hand through the humid air—“He answers.”
Was this man truly interested in God, or just sneaking his way into her sentiments? “He answers those who love Him and know Him, but still ’tis His will He does in the end.”
“Hmm.” Taking a deep breath, Kent glanced over the sea. “It pains me to dampen your humors, but—”
“Not even you can destroy my good mood, Captain.” She raised her chin in the air.
“I must speak to you of Sawkins.”
“What of him?”
“I’m afraid he has deceived you.”
Alarm grabbed her. Hadn’t she suspected something was afoot? “How so?”
Squinting toward the sun, now sitting just above the horizon, he sighed. “He is not sincere in his affections, milady. He offers you his hand, when in reality he will do naught but take advantage of your feelings and leave you with nothing.”
“You know about his proposal?”
Kent nodded.
“He doesn’t need your permission, Captain, nor do I.” Isabel patted her silver combs. “Besides, he offers me more than mere marriage, he offers wealth and a title for Frederick—a chance for him to grow up with honor, not as the illegitimate son of a pirate.”
A pained look sank Kent’s expression. He wrenched the railing. “Lord Sawkins is not what he seems, milady. His nobility is fleeting at best. His wealth is nonexistent. He ran his father’s merchant business into the ground with gambling debts. Why do you think he needs to steal passage aboard this ship? He is a charlatan, and he will use you and toss you aside when he tires of you.”
Pain and fury lanced through Isabel. “Do you think no man would desire me for more than a romp in his bed?” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Do you believe me nothing more than a common trollop?”
Kent laid a hand over hers. “Nay, milady, of course—”
“Don’t you have everything you want, Captain?” Isabel snapped her hand away. “Your ship, your treasure, power? If I recall, that was all that was ever important to you. You take what you want from life, as you did me. You had my body. What is to you it if I give my heart to another?”
“Are you giving your heart or selling your soul?”
Raising her hand, Isabel swung it toward Kent, hoping to slap the smirk from his lips and ease the pain in her heart.
He caught it in midair and raised his brows.
“You’re jealous, ’tis all.” Isabel jerked her hand away, and scratched the sudden itch on her arms. She faced the sea, forcing back tears. “Lord Sawkins can give my son what you never could.”
Clenching his jaw, Kent lengthened his stance. Rage twisted his handsome features, and Isabel once again longed to take back the words that so
carelessly flew from her mouth.
The ship pitched over a surging roller. Isabel’s legs gave way beneath her. In a flash, Kent grabbed her and drew her to himself. Heat rose up her body. The rage on his face was replaced by a warm affection.
“When are you going to forgive me, milady? Doesn’t your God require it?” His spicy, hot breath wafted over her.
“I have forgiven you.” She searched his eyes, feeling her heart quicken, and pushed back from his chest. “But I find it much more difficult to forget.”
The sudden loss of his embrace stole all warmth from her.
“A sail, a sail!” The shout came from above them, and Kent shifted his gaze toward the sea.
Isabel rushed to the railing.
“How stands she?” Kent yelled.
“Off the starboard beam.”
Excitement set Isabel’s hopes alight as Kent plucked his spyglass from his belt and marched to the starboard railing.
“Is it Morris?” she asked.
Before Kent could answer, a flash caught her eye in the distance, and a thunderous boom sent the air aquiver.
The round shot splashed into the sea just yards off the starboard quarter, sending a spray of seawater onto the deck.
Chapter Fourteen
Slaves and Masters
Taking a step back, Isabel gripped her qualmish stomach. Horrifying memories blazed through her mind: cannon shots blasting through the ship; flaming spikes of wood spearing across the deck; gaping, blackened holes in the hull; fire and smoke filling the air; and the screams of injured men. Terror held her in place.
Angry shouts and boot steps thundered over the deck as pirates emerged from below, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
Kent lowered his glass. “Gibbons,” he yelled aft. “Hard aport!”
“Hard aport, Cap’n.”
Marching to the foredeck railing, he scanned the crew below. “Smithy, set all studding sails. Bring her full into the breeze.”
“Cap’n, why is we runnin’ like snivelin’ dogs?” Murdock shielded his eyes and studied the ship in the distance. “Could be a fair prize, says I.”
The pirates grumbled in agreement as the ship lurched to port, sending Isabel stumbling to the railing.
Flinging a glance over his shoulder, Kent reached for her, hastening her beside him. “Fair prize or not,” he bellowed, “we have other business to attend to.”
A tall, shifty-eyed pirate with a jagged scar circling his neck glared up at Kent. “We been ’tending to yer business fer too long. This ship is fer piratin’, not escortin’ yer lady friends and huntin’ their babes.”
Tension sparked in the air around Kent’s taut body. “Since this is my ship,” he spat. “I’ll be the one saying what she is for and not for. Haven’t I done well for you gentlemen? Aren’t you the riches pirates ever to sail these waters?”
Hoornes jumped onto the deck, his rat perched on his shoulder, followed by Hann, who smiled at Isabel before glancing toward the horizon.
The crew grumbled. Isabel feared a mutiny brewed. Where was Lord Sawkins? A lump formed in her throat. What would happen if the crew took over the ship? What would they do with her? She glanced at Kent. No fear etched his features, only annoyance.
Cutter popped on deck, his sandy hair flopping in the breeze. His gaze found Hann over by the rail and then landed on Isabel.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Kent turned and squinted at the ship fading in their wake.
“Perchance it is Captain Morris,” Isabel said.
“Nay, ’tis a sloop. Morris sails a frigate.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n,” Smithy squawked. “But we’s of a mind to take her. By thunder, ’twill only take a few hours to capture and plunder her.” The first mate’s stern expression made his statement more a demand than a request.
Grunts issued from the raucous crew, reminding Isabel of a troop of apes beating their chests in defiance. Some of them towered well above their friends, others could barely be seen amongst the mob, some were lanky, others corpulent, some had long stringy hair, others were bald, some were bearded, some smooth faced, and they all wore an assortment of flashy colors and mismatched, ragged apparel that made them resemble a band of roving gypsies. Respect and fear gleamed in their gazes cast toward their captain, yet something else, an emotion even more formidable—greed.
Kent faced Isabel. “Go below.”
She shook her head. “Surely you aren’t going to attack that ship?”
“What would you have me do? Even I cannot fight the whole crew single-handedly.”
“But it will delay finding Frederick. You said you were done with vanquishing—or was that a lie like everything else?”
Shoving off from the railing, Kent crossed his arms over his billowing shirt. “I am done, but as you can see, my crew is not of the same mind.” He shrugged. “I am a pirate, after all, and until I formally retire and set these men ashore, I must abide by the articles they signed when they joined my crew.”
“I doubt you will ever retire.” Isabel thrust her chin in the air. “Once a pirate, always a pirate.”
Turning from her, he scanned the crew. “Hoornes, bring her full about. All hands on deck. Let’s be about our prey, men!”
Cheers and howls echoed across the ship as the men disbanded and scurried in all directions. Some hopped down the hatch while others flung themselves into the ratlines and clambered aloft.
Isabel clung to the railing as the ship came about on the windward side. With taut ropes whining in the wind and masts groaning, the huge frigate turned toward the sloop—naught but a shimmering mirage on the horizon. The breeze shifted, and a blast of torrid air struck her from behind, loosening her hair from its combs.
“Now will you go below?” Kent asked, giving her an imploring half grin.
She thought of her stifling cabin and how terrifying it had been to be locked below during a battle, hearing the cannons roar and clash of swords and screams of men and not knowing what was happening. What if the ship sank and she were trapped? Or worse, what if the ship was boarded and the marauders found her alone in her cabin? “Nay, I will not.”
Kent flattened his lips. His brown eyes flickered in concern. “’Tis dangerous for a lady to be on deck.”
“Not if you are the pirate you claim to be.” Isabel tightened her jaw against the fear that spiraled through her.
“I could have you escorted below and locked in your cabin.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Do not try my patience, milady.” The tiny scar beneath his right eyebrow rose. “You may stay above for now, but rest assured I will have you locked below if I deem it necessary.”
Ignoring him, Isabel glanced away.
Kent roared a series of rapid-fire orders that pierced Isabel’s eardrums. In response, his men bustled over the deck to do his bidding and armed themselves with pistols, knives, swords, and boarding axes—the hilts and handles of which stuck out like spikes from every part of their bodies.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Isabel pitied the poor ship, its silhouette growing larger on the horizon. They were making their best attempt at outrunning the pirates. She wondered what type of ship it was. Merchantman? Perhaps one of her father’s ships?
As if answering her thoughts, Kent lowered the scope. “Slaver.”
“A slave ship?”
He nodded. “A Spanish slaver. They carry Africans and Indians from the Spanish Main to the other islands.”
Isabel cringed, and her thoughts drifted to the slave families Reverend Thomas helped back at Port Royal. “Then there won’t be any treasure aboard.” Hope sprang through her. Perhaps they would abandon the chase and get back to looking for Frederick.
“Nay. The Spanish always carry treasure.”
“But surely not on a lone, undefended ship.” Isabel heard the desperation in her voice.
“Zeke, run up our colors,” Kent shouted as Hann approached. He turned toward Isabel. “They often hide
their treasure aboard slave ships, milady.”
Isabel stomped her foot. “If they did not wish to engage us, why did they fire upon us?”
“As a warning.” Kent flashed a haughty grin. “But it would appear they had no idea upon whom they fired.” He nodded toward Hann. “Watch her,” he ordered before gripping the hilt of his cutlass and swinging down the ladder onto the main deck.
Isabel’s gaze followed him as he marched amongst his crew. He commanded them with authority and confidence. She’d witnessed his skill in sea battle, but fear clawed its way up her heart, nonetheless. People would no doubt die in this foolish skirmish, not to mention the time it stole from finding her son. And for what, fortune? Memories of the huge estate in Hertfordshire where she’d spent her childhood stung her: the lavish food, the expensive gowns. Hadn’t she put as much importance on possessing wealth as these pirates did on stealing it?
She shot a tremulous glance at Hann and grabbed her hand, then quickly released it before anyone noticed. “Whatever will you do?”
“What do you mean?” The girl seemed oblivious to the ensuing danger.
“Surely you won’t fight?”
Hann chuckled. “If I play the part of a man, I fear I must play it in all their vile ways.”
Isabel scratched the rising itch on her arms. “You could be wounded, or worse.”
Hann’s violet eyes twinkled. “Your concern warms me, milady, but never fear, I have been in many such fights.”
“Truly?” Isabel could not imagine it. Dressing like a man was one thing, but to possess the strength to fight like one was quite another.
“Aye, milady. How could I escape it? ’Tis part of a pirate’s life, to be sure. Besides, despite what you witnessed the other day, I’m quite proficient at swordplay.”
With a sigh, Isabel gazed above her as the sails swelled into snowy mountains. A blast of salty air filled her lungs. “You are much braver than I am.”
The Restitution Page 15