The Jezebel's Daughter

by Juliet MacLeod

  “Manwu, the Moon goddess, was lonely,” Jacques said, his voice reverent as he gestured to the heavens. The skies were clear and the moon full and heavy as she hung amongst the numberless stars. “She call out to Ayida Wèdo, the Rainbow Serpent, to help her. Manwu want to build a world and fill it with creatures to keep her company. Ayida Wèdo agree, and she carry Manwu on her back. The earth, the soil, Manwu laid down first.” He crouched and dragged his fingers sinuously through the dirt at his feet, creating a miniature landscape complete with hills and valleys.

  “The hollows, curves, and rises were created by Ayida Wèdo's body as she slither and slip through the dirt.” He straightened and smiled with almost childish delight. “And wherever Ayida Wèdo and Manwu stop to rest, the Rainbow Serpent leave behind mountains of her excrement, filled with precious minerals and gems.” The children laughed and I could feel Sebastian chuckle softly.

  “Soon, Manwu fill the earth with trees and plants, animals and birds, and finally people. But now, the world too heavy to stay up on its own. So Manwu ask Ayida Wèdo to help once more. She ask Rainbow Serpent to coil about the world, hold her tail in her mouth, let the world rest on her back.” He crouched once more and drew a never-ending circle in the dirt at his feet. “Ayida Wèdo agree and Manwu was so pleased by her sacrifice, she made the oceans and waters to protect Rainbow Serpent from the sun's heat.”

  It was a lovely story. I wanted to reciprocate by telling them one of Perrault's tales or maybe one of Scheherazade's, but I yawned hugely and Vivienne shook her head in consternation. “Go to bed, girl,” she said. “You still healin'. Need all the rest you can get.”

  Sebastian gently pushed me away and got to his feet. He nodded to Jacques and then to Vivienne before drawing me up against his side. “I'll get her settled,” he said. “Thank you for the food and the stories. Good night.”

  “Bonswa,” I called out. Sebastian's arm around my waist supported my weight as he led me toward the hut that Vivienne had given to me for the length of my stay. I'd argued, told her it wasn't right that I put her out of her own home. She merely shrugged and said she'd stay with her husband. She wouldn't budge from her position no matter how I tried to convince her otherwise, so I accepted the shelter grudgingly.

  Tonight, though, I was thankful for the privacy. I hadn't had a moment alone with Sebastian since I'd woken up... come back from the dead... whatever the truth of the situation really was. There were things I wanted to talk to him about, and my body longed for the touch of his hand again, or the soft brush of his lips against mine.

  Once inside the hut, he shut the door and saw me settled on the cot. Then he moved around the room, lighting candles, taking off his coat and laying it over the back of the chair, building up the fire, and fetching me some water before settling down next to me. He didn't say anything for the span of ten heartbeats. He just stared at me, his eyes drinking me in like wine.

  Just when his scrutiny became uncomfortable, he leaned forward and cupped my face in both hands, tilted my head up, and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm against mine, his hands gentle as they slid to the back of my head and pulled the pins from my hair. He broke the kiss, leaned back and stared at me again. The blue of his irises was so dark they appeared black and something hungry swam through their depths. Whatever he was feeling left his expression so intense that it stole the breath from my body and sent a fine trembling through my limbs.

  “You were dead, Loreley,” he murmured, his gaze locked with mine, his fingers curled in my hair. “And I wanted to join you. I didn't want to live in a world without your smile or your sweet face or your sharp mind. I didn't want to be without you.” His breath caught in his throat and his arms suddenly wrapped tightly around me, crushing me against his body.

  I blinked in shock at the depths of his feelings. I was left dazed and sluggish by his admission, and I was frozen in his embrace. Then the ice inside my mind broke, and I clung desperately to him, my hands fisted in his shirt, my forehead pressed against the side of his neck. “You don't have to be,” I said. “I'm here now. With you. I'm never leaving again.”

  He kissed me again, hungry and demanding. I felt heat rising low down in my belly and my heart pounded in my chest. I made a tiny noise of desire in the back of my throat and crawled into his lap, desperate to feel more of him against me. There was a sharp pain in my stomach and I hissed and drew back, clutching at the wound.

  Sebastian asked, his face a mask of worry, “Did I hurt you?” His hands moved over my arms and shoulders, touching me gently as if he was testing to see if I was still whole or if I had shattered like glass.

  I scooted back, away from him, still holding myself stiffly and trying to calm my pounding heart. “No, you didn't hurt me,” I said, looking up at him with a tiny smirk. “I hurt me with my... eagerness and excitement.”

  He chuckled softly and leaned forward to press a kiss against the tip of my nose. He took my hands in his and held them lightly. “I suppose we'd better curtail that particular activity until you are healed.”

  I nodded sadly and sighed. “Will you stay with me tonight? I want to spend time with you, alone. Before we have to go back to the ship where everyone will be studying us and judging our every move.”

  “Of course. Here, lie down.” He helped me stretch out on the cot and get comfortable before he slid down behind me, pressing his chest to my back and putting his arm around me protectively. “Alright?”

  “Very.” I snuggled into him and was silent for a moment or two as I watched the flames jump and dance in the small hearth across from the cot. “How did you manage to persuade Hamilton to keep your secret about the Jacobite gold?” I asked.

  I felt his chest expand as he heaved a great sigh. “Do you really want to talk about this right now? We can discuss ship's business when we're on the ship. Until then, let's just leave Captain MacIsaac and Mistress Jones to their own devices. I wish only to be Sebastian and Loreley tonight.”

  I nodded and let the question go unanswered. He was right; we had this rare time together and could talk about anything. “I hated Graves,” he said some time later. “Hated him for what he did to you. Hated him for keeping you a prisoner. Hated him for hurting you. I heard you screaming that night.” He pulled me closer and I covered his hand with mine. “The night he... In Dupris's rooms. I wanted to kill him. I stood at the door, pistol in my hand, and listened to you screaming.”

  I turned towards him, facing him now, meeting his eyes. “Why didn't you stop him?” I asked.

  “I was afraid he would kill you. He was an animal. You knew that. There was no way I could know what he would do to you if I interrupted him.” His expression was beseeching as he silently pleaded with me to forgive him for not interfering.

  I kissed him softly, cradled his cheek in the palm of my hand. There was nothing to forgive. He had, after all, killed Graves, freeing me and giving me back control over my own life. He pulled me even closer against his body, molding me to his chest and belly. His hands moved to my lower back, pressing me to him, stroking over the swell of my hips and bottom. Lowering his mouth to mine, he kissed me firmly and the hunger that had been present in our earlier embraces returned, a smoldering fire that built slowly but never engulfed us.

  “I have wanted you since I first saw you, walking down the steps to Dupris's rooms,” he said, his lips still against mine. “You were so delicate, like a songbird, yet there was a fire inside you that couldn't be quenched.” He reached up and traced his fingers along my jawbone.

  “No matter the abuse that Graves visited upon you, no matter the horror of watching Tansy murdered in front of you, no matter the awful knowledge that you have taken men's lives, that fire still burns inside you. You are the strongest woman I have ever known.” He kissed me again and suddenly the layers of clothing between us were too much. I wanted to feel his skin pressed against my own. I wanted to taste his flesh, feel the angles and planes of his body, hear the noises coming from his throat as he sou
ght pleasure in my embrace.

  I gripped his shoulders and pulled him roughly against me, my kisses demanding and hungry now. My hands moved over his body, touching and stroking, cupping his bottom and pulling his hips against me. I could feel his desire, swollen and insistent against my belly, and wanted nothing more than to fling my legs astride him and ride him as I'd seen Katie atop Graves. I reached down between our bodies but he caught my hand and broke the kiss.

  “You're still hurt,” he said, gripping my wrist gently. “This can wait until you're fully healed. There is nothing to stop us now. It will happen, but only when it won't hurt you.” He kissed my forehead and helped me to turn over onto my opposite side. “Do you trust me?”

  “I trust you,” I said with a nod. He tucked me against his body, holding me protectively and nuzzling my ear through my hair.

  “Good. Sleep now. I leave in the morning and I want you to give me a kiss that I can carry with me across the sea.” He gripped my hand and I raised it to my mouth to press a kiss against his palm. He made a happy noise and moments later, I could feel the steady, even rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He left the next morning, a sad smile on his lips and his hand still curled around my kiss.

  * * *

  I spent nearly every moment of the next month with Vivienne and her family, healing and getting stronger. Soon I was back to full strength and health, and had been adopted into the manbo's fold. She and I had had many discussions about vodou and Christianity, and she had helped me reconcile the two faiths. I came to see that it was as Ben had said—Bondye and the Christian God were different faces of the same being. The lwa and the saints, too, were one and the same. With this realization came a certain amount of peace and harmony, and I felt more at ease than I ever had before.

  I also became familiar with Vivienne's family and the people in her hounfo, whom she protected and cared for. They were, as Ben had mentioned, escaped slaves, hiding from their former owners and the French government in the forests of Saint-Domingue. Life was difficult for them. Not only were they under constant threat of discovery and a subsequent brutal execution, but they survived on food foraged from the forest around them, a few skinny pigs and chickens they'd managed to steal from near-by plantations, and scant crops planted with stolen seeds.

  I wanted to do something to help them, to repay their kindness to me. I felt a certain bond with them, and not just because they had saved my life. Graves had kept me a prisoner, a slave, in the brothel in Nassau. I knew a little of what they had endured on the plantations of Saint-Domingue, though of course my suffering was only a tiny sliver of theirs.

  One evening, as I was helping Vivienne prepare the evening meal, I broached the subject with her. “Are you and your family happy here?” I asked, my eyes on the bread I was kneading.

  My question was met with an extended silence and I darted a sidelong look at Vivienne's face. She was staring out into the jungle, though her gaze was years in the past. “My first master, he took me from my Mama's arms when I was only a girl, no more than five or six, and sold me to another blan. First the new man turn me out into the fields, tell me to weed the rows. When I was older, he send me to the kitchens, but now I am under his roof and he rape me whenever he want.” She stopped talking and closed her eyes for a moment. I reached over and took her hand and held it tightly. She opened her eyes and looked at me, tears swimming in their black depths. “Yes,” she said in a constricted voice. “I am happy here.” She let go of my hand and went back to grinding corn.

  “But you're not safe here. Your people, your family—they're not safe.”

  “We are free here. I am not raped whenever my master want. I can keep my children with me. I can honor the lwa and Bondye.”

  “If you could leave this place and go anywhere in the entire world, where would you go?”

  Vivienne blinked in shock at my question. It was clear that no one had ever asked her such a thing. She was quiet for a long moment and only the sound of the stones grinding the corn filled the air between us. “I hear stories that in England, no one can own a slave. All Negroes are free there.” She turned to look at me. “Is that true?”

  “I don't know if that's true outside of London, but I do know that my family does not own slaves. I don't know any families who do.”

  “Then that is where I would like to go. I would like to go to a place where my family and I can be truly free.”

  I smiled and went back to kneading bread. It would take some time to save up again, but someday, I would buy passage to England for Vivienne and her entire family. It was how I would repay them for saving my life.

  PART THREE

  1718

  XXVIII

  On board the Jezebel

  January, 1718

  Ben and Sebastian came for me in mid-September and the first thing I did after leaving Vivienne's compound was stop in the market in Le Cap. Somehow Ben had managed to recover my purse from the thief and I spent some of the money on new clothing, since I was no longer required to hide my sex on board the Jezebel. I was fitted for stays and I also ordered some skirts and blouses based on the pattern of men's clothing, hoping they would be comfortable as well as practical for life on board a ship. While I had no problems going back to breeches and weskets, I wanted something a little more feminine. Sebastian found weaponry—a French saber and a pair of matched French sea service pistols—that were perfect for me and when I climbed on board the Jezebel for the first time in months, I looked every inch the pirate queen I felt.

  The men were wary of me at first, unsure of how to act around me now that I was suddenly no longer Mr. Jones, the shy, bashful master's mate, but instead Miss Jones, the confident, out-going quartermaster. It took a few weeks of awkward conversations and uncomfortable interactions before the crew was able to adjust to my presence. There were still a handful of men who felt I would bring the ship bad luck simply because I was a woman, but once they were reminded that I had been a woman all along and they were alive and wealthy because of me, they soon came around to a grudging acceptance.

  As soon as I was settled into my cabin, Sebastian summoned me to his wardroom. I settled into one of the chairs across the desk from his and he closed the door and took his seat. We stared at each other for a moment or two across the desk and I chuckled softly to cover my sudden nervousness. “I can't believe I'm here,” I said. “I mean, I can't believe the men allowed me to come back. I can't believe they made me quartermaster.”

  Sebastian smiled a bit and began sorting through things on his desk. “You earned it,” he said. “With your cleverness, your loyalty, and your bravery. It takes a lot to impress them, but you did it.” He held out a stack of books to me. “Now, since we have some time until we reach our next port, here are the quartermaster's log books and the ledgers for the ship's accounts. Take them to your cabin and familiarize yourself with them.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Dinner later?”

  “Yes, of course. Five bells, last dog watch? Here?” I nodded and rose from my seat to follow him to the door.

  “I'll see you then.” I grazed his cheek with a gentle kiss and took the stack of books to my cabin, across the passage way from Sebastian's. I settled into my bunk and flipped through the top log book. The first entry I saw was dated November of 1715, and mentioned joining the salvage of the Spanish treasure fleet sunk by the same hurricane that had made me an orphan. According to Hamilton's log book, the Jezebel and her crew amassed a little more than fifty thousand pounds sterling in the week they spent on the wrecks. I double checked the date and found the accompanying entry in the top ledger. Hamilton's entry listed a pay-out of 665 pounds sterling per share, and made note that the ship's share consisted of an extra 123 pounds sterling. That must be what Sebastian had sent to France. A quick check of the other ledger proved this true.

  I sighed unhappily and set aside the ledgers. I was not at all comfortable with the idea that I would be complicit in stealing from a crew who had accepted me
with open arms, despite the fact that I was a woman and I had been lying to them for the better part of two years. Sebastian's request that I continue keeping Hamilton's double books had backed me into an uncomfortable corner. If I exposed Sebastian's perfidy, he would most certainly be hung from the yard. Obviously, this was not acceptable, and left me with little else to do but continue with the ruse. I slipped the other ledger—the one that reflected each payment sent to France—beneath the mattress in my bunk and left everything else on the desk before exiting my cabin and going topside.

  We stayed at sea for most of the winter, making the rounds of the spy network and acting on the information they had, we took two ships. Sebastian sent nearly two hundred pounds to France and I couldn't sleep for days after. I needed to talk to Sebastian about this arrangement and my discomfort with it.

  We were in Havana when we heard some disturbing rumors about a Royal Navy flotilla making its way to Nassau, consisting of three fifth- or sixth-rate ships, plus a few merchantmen and assorted supply ships. They were carrying a new governor, his support staff, and a pardon from His Majesty George I, for any and all pirates who swore allegiance to the Crown and gave up their violent ways. Two nights before Christmas, Sebastian called a meeting of the Jezebel's officers in his quarters. In addition to Sebastian and I, Ben was present, as were Duquesne the boatswain, Ferro the ship's surgeon, Weiss the gunner, and Harris the helmsman.

  “Gentlemen,” Sebastian said and gave me an apologetic smile. “And lady,” he amended. I gave him a tiny nod and he continued. “You've no doubt heard the rumors of the imminent arrival in Nassau of a new governor and a flotilla of Royal Navy ships, including at least three warships. We've heard these rumors before. In fact, we've been hearing them since Trott left the New Providence twenty years ago. But this time, there's the added detail of a pardon from the King. That has never before been mentioned and I believe it merits some discussion.”