The Jezebel's Daughter

by Juliet MacLeod

  “Fifteen,” I said. “And ten left. One of the new men from the Cadogan claims to have been a buccaneer, who served alongside Davis when he was in British Honduras. He says he remembers the exact location of the safe passage through the reef.”

  Sebastian made a thoughtful face and stroked his beard. “Do you trust him?” he asked me.

  I shrugged. “I don't know him well enough to make that judgement. But I was thinking that perhaps we might anchor just off the reef and allow Mr. Rossing to pilot a jolly-boat. If he's right, it would certainly eliminate the need to hire someone we don't know and help keep the secret of the new haven more secure at the same time.”

  Duquesne gave me a look of surprise before turning to Sebastian. “The girl makes a fair point, Captain. I suggest we allow this Rossing to show us his memory is tight before hiring a pilot.”

  “Agreed,” Sebastian said. “Ben?”

  “Aye, Captain. Mistress Jones be right. Again,” he added with a toothy grin and a chuck to my shoulder. I beamed at his praise and carefully folded the supply lists before slipping them into the purse on my belt.

  “How many other crews can we assume will be joining us?” Duquesne asked.

  “Rackham said he and Vane had spoken to some thirty other crews once word of the governor and his pardon came down,” Sebastian said. “Vane and nine other crews will be staying in the New Providence area. The rest will be joining us in British Honduras in the months to come. We need to assemble enough men to build a small settlement, with enough room for a fence, some basic merchants—”

  “A whorehouse and tavern,” Duquesne interrupted. Sebastian and Ben chuckled and I rolled my eyes expressively.

  “Just so, Mr. Duquesne,” Sebastian said. “Mr. Davis assures me that there is plentiful water and food, as well as timber, stone, and thatching material in the area, so we should have enough raw materials to build the infrastructure necessary to do business. Perhaps we can also attract some farmers to give the settlement an air of legitimacy, as well.”

  We stayed in Sebastian's cabin for a few more hours, discussing the necessary steps for founding a new haven. At seven bells of the last dog watch, Ben and Duquesne left, seeking supper and some time to go over their own preparations. Once they were gone, Sebastian rose to his feet and stood behind me, reaching into my hair to remove the pins in it. He ran his fingers through it and leaned down to plant a kiss against the top of my head.

  “You were wonderful today,” he murmured as he began kneading the muscles in my neck and shoulders. “I think you really impressed the other men in that tent. They were of the opinion I'd hired you as my quartermaster because you are lovely and have some skills as a bed warmer.”

  I chuckled and closed my eyes. “I'm glad to have disabused them of that truth,” I said, letting my head hang down, pressing my chin against my chest and sighing deeply as he helped me relax. His hands moved down my back slowly, kneading each muscle expertly. The silence stretched on as he continued to massage my back and neck. I was floating in a golden glow of bliss when his instructions to use the full ship's shares came back to me.

  “When you told me to use all of the money in the ship's accounts,” I said, my words a bit slurred by extreme relaxation, “did you mean I'm to use the Jacobite cause's money as well?”

  His hands froze in their place above my rib cage and I could feel a new tension zinging through him. I opened my eyes and sat up straight, turning to look at him. He briefly met my eyes before turning away to look out the gallery windows behind his desk. He took a deep breath and then dropped into the seat next to me, his hands fisted together in his lap.

  “The Jacobite cause is dead,” he said quietly, through clenched teeth, as if saying the words was painful. I supposed that in a way, it was. He was admitting to the death of the dream of a Scottish Catholic king on the throne of Great Britain again. I laid my hand gently on his forearm, stroking the corded muscles there, trying to comfort him. “I should have realized this two years ago, after their defeat—our defeat—at Preston,” he continued, laying his other hand over mine. “I'm sorry to have made you keep my secret. It was never your cause. It was never the men's cause.” He looked up at me and met his eyes, his face sober. “It was only ever mine.”

  I leaned forward and cupped his cheek as I kissed him gently. “I understand your feelings,” I said against his lips. I sat back and smiled softly. “But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy you'd decided to quit the cause. It would make life in Edinburgh—or anywhere in England—very difficult for us.”

  His brow furrowed for a moment as he said, “Life in England? What are you... Oh.” He shook his head. “Loreley, no. That's your dream. Not mine. I will never return to Edinburgh. I will never live under English rule.” He gripped my hand tightly. “Tell me you understand that.”

  I stared at him in shock. Not return to Edinburgh? Not live under English rule again? “I don't understand,” I answered and let go of his hand. “Is that why you won't take the pardon?”

  He laughed bitterly and stood, moving around the desk to stand in front of the gallery. “Yes, that's why I'm not taking the pardon. You expected I would?”

  “Of course!” I said, getting to my feet to join him at the windows. “We could marry, Sebastian. We could leave this life. We could have children and raise them in a safe place. We could stop risking our lives every day just to survive long enough for the next fight. Don't you want that? Don't you want a family? Don't you want me?”

  “Yes, I want you!” He rounded on me, a fierce, almost frightening look in his eyes. “I want you and children and safety more than I have ever wanted anything else, but I will not swear an oath to the English king to get them. I will not compromise myself to that degree.” The fight drained from him and his shoulders slumped. “Would you still have me if I were that man? If I gave up everything I held dear just for a little comfort?”

  “What about my comfort, Sebastian? I died! I was dead. I'm terrified every day that it will happen again, and this time the lwa won't be around to help me come back. Don't you understand that? I don't want this life anymore. I don't want to constantly fear death. I don't want to kill anyone else.”

  He grabbed me suddenly and crushed me against his body, holding me so tightly I couldn't breathe. It didn't matter. I clutched at him, fisting my hands in his waistcoat and clinging to him. “So take the pardon, Loreley,” he whispered into my hair. “Take it and you can have your freedom.”

  I shook my head and tears streaked down my face. “Not without you.”

  He kissed me hard, almost as if he was trying to punish me, and I returned the kiss with equal ferocity. He pushed me backwards until I was sandwiched between him and his desk. Without letting go of me, he swept everything off the top of it, spilling papers and ink pots and books heedlessly to the floor.

  He captured my mouth again and picked me up, his hands digging into my hips. I spread my legs as he set me down on the desk, hiking my skirt up around my waist, and encircled him with my thighs. We fumbled at the ties of his breeches and once they were free, he pushed them to his knees and took me forcefully, slamming his length into me and drawing a cry of sudden searing pleasure from my lips.

  It was over quickly, the tempestuous feelings of our brief fight lending themselves to a quick and brutal coupling. His shirt was torn and my nails had raised red welts on his shoulders and back. There were bite marks on my breast and his fingers had left bruises on the tender skin of my thighs and hips.

  “America,” he panted into my shoulder as we coasted down from the mind-numbing climax. “We will go to America. We can start anew there.”

  XXXI

  Ambergris Caye, British Honduras

  August, 1718

  Predawn in the jungle was an eerie time. The thick, humid air was filled with the sounds of a thousand insects and jewel-toned birds, calling out to each other, marking their territories and seeking a mate. Their songs were punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder
and the pitter-patter of rain as it dripped onto leaves and the roof of the little house Sebastian and I lived in. Far off in the distance, just as the eastern skies took on a pale pearl-gray tinge, a horrible sound began, like the howling of a horde demons as they bore down on us sinners, determined to carry us off to our afterlife in the Fiery Pits.

  Although I'd been hearing the howling for months now, it never ceased to raise goose-pimples of fright all over my body. I laid awake every morning, dreading the sound and cuddling closer to Sebastian, who slept deeply, blissfully unaware of the noise. Mr. Rossing, the former buccaneer who had successfully guided us through the reef and into the deep, safe harbor just yards from my front door, had assured me that the noises were made by small black monkeys that were terrified of humans, but that explanation didn't diminish the terror I felt. Thankfully, the monkeys only howled before dawn and just before dusk; otherwise, I would have slept on the ship every night, where the creaking of the rigging and the soft lapping of the water would drown out the unearthly howling.

  Since arriving on Ambergris Caye in early February, the Jezebel had been joined by four other ships, including Rackham and the Kingston. We had built some ten or twelve rudimentary shelters—no more than just basic huts with thatched roofs, but they all had sturdy framing in case someone wanted to make them into more permanent homes—plus a large warehouse with an office for our fence, a tavern, a whorehouse, a cooper's shop, a carpenter’s shop, and a small chapel. We had yet to attract a priest, but the five whores did a brisk business every night.

  Rackham brought with him news of Vane. In May, Vane and the Ranger had sailed north to the coast of the Carolina colonies, where he joined with Edward Teach, who was now most widely known by the moniker Blackbeard. Vane and Teach had blockaded the Charles Town harbor, capturing and ransacking at least nine ships that tried to squeeze through. After capturing a ship carrying a group of Carolina colony dignitaries headed for London, Teach informed Charles Eden, the governor, that his fleet required medical supplies. If these supplies were not delivered to him, then he would execute his captives and return their heads to Eden. The medicines were eventually surrendered and the prisoners released. After the blockade broke apart, Vane sailed south to the Caribbean once more, while Teach and the rest of the flotilla sailed farther north, to Ocracoke Island, where they remained after receiving a pardon from Eden. The last Rackham had heard, Teach was set to sail south to join with Benjamin Hornigold to hunt pirates.

  Although we had stayed on land for the greater part of six months, some of the other crews had gone out roving. They'd taken a few ships, enough to keep the construction afloat for a few more months and to quench their need to be on the water again. Our little settlement was approaching the size of Nassau, and still it seemed to be hidden and secret.

  The unearthly howling of the monkeys stopped and the following silence was almost deafening. Sebastian stirred in his sleep, his arm reflexively curling tighter around me and drawing me in ever closer to him. I smiled and closed my eyes, feeling his heart beat beneath my cheek, slow and strong and steady.

  “Are you awake?” he asked me, his voice ragged with sleep.

  “No, I've been listening to the demons,” I answered lightly. I felt his chuckle through his chest and leaned up on one elbow to look down into his eyes. “It's early yet. The sun's not even up.”

  “Are you giving me permission to be lazy?”

  “I think so. But only if I can join you.”

  “Why not?” he asked, reaching up to brush a lock of my hair away from my face. “It's Sunday, after all. Even God rested on this day. I have the perfect enticement, too.” He slipped from the hammock that served as our bed and moved silently across the dirt floor to a wash-leather sack he'd received from Ben the night before. Digging in it, he brought out two books and handed them to me with a smile.

  I sat up and took the books from him. I glanced at their spines and saw Les mille et une nuit, contes arabes traduits en François, par M. Galland, Vol. XI and Vol. XII picked out in gold leaf against dark blue leather. I squealed with delight and immediately opened the first book to the table of contents. “Oh, look,” I said, holding it out him. “More of Sinbad's tales.”

  He smiled happily and stoked the fire, adding wood to it before putting the kettle on the fire dog to heat water for tea. He settled into a lean against the wall of the house and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me reading. I looked up and quirked a brow at him and he smirked. “I was just thinking there is nothing more attractive than a naked woman reading a book while sitting in a hammock in the middle of a hidden jungle,” he said with a certain twinkle in his eye.

  “That's an awfully specific fantasy.”

  “Well, I'm an awfully specific sort of man.”

  The kettle whistled and he made us cups of hot, black tea, sweetened with a bit of cane juice and a squeeze of a fruit that did not resemble the lemon, but somehow still tasted of it. He joined me in the hammock and we spent a few pleasurable hours sipping tea and reading from Monsieur Galland's Arabian tales.

  The rains came back at noon, when we were finally driven out of our cozy house in search of food. We dashed through the downpour to the tavern, where we were greeted with the mouth-watering aromas of roasting meat and baking bread. Most of the senior crew of the Jezebel were gathered around the largest table, which was covered with plates and flagons and partially-consumed loaves of bread. I sat down next to Ben, who looked as though he had just woken, and stole a bite of meat from his plate, while Sebastian ordered food and of ale for us from the cook in the tavern's kitchen.

  “Did Captain give you them books?” he asked sleepily as he pushed his plate and ale in front of me.

  I nodded and made affirmative noises around a mouthful of bread. After swallowing my food and a bit of ale to wash it down, I said, “Yes. He did. Where did they come from?”

  “One of the other crews—I think it be the Greyhound—brought back a large trunk of books. They be thinking to burn 'em, but Mr. Duquesne and I stepped in and rescued 'em. Saw them Arab ones and remembered you liked 'em.”

  “Thank you for the presents,” I said and kissed his cheek. He made a happy grunting sound and took a deep draught from his ale before putting it down in front of me again. I hid a tearful smile behind a bit of bread as I was reminded of breakfast with Mattie and Gunnar. We often shared food like this and the amount of time it took Ben to completely wake in the morning was so like Mattie.

  Sebastian joined us and chuckled at the presence of Ben's breakfast in front of me. I gave him a somewhat guilty look and he pushed my food in front of Ben. “You need to eat, too,” he said to Ben as he sat down next to me. “Don't feel you must always feed the baby bird first. Even if she does make sweet faces at you and pull at your heart strings.”

  “I do no such thing,” I replied crossly. “I didn't even ask for this!”

  Ben snorted and applied himself to the plate Sebastian had given him. “No, you don't be asking, girl. You just be taking.” The other men chuckled and I elbowed Ben in the ribs. We ate in companionable silence until all the plates were clean and all the bread consumed.

  “Will we be returning to the ship soon, Captain?” Harris asked.

  Sebastian nodded though did not reply until his mouth was empty. “Yes, I think in the next few days, if the rains let up. We've done just about all we can do here. There will be a meeting of senior crews in the morning—which I would like you all to attend—to discuss a rotating watch on shore while other crews go out roving.”

  I finished the flagon of ale in front of me and then stood. “I'll go lay in supplies for you and I before we leave in the morning,” I said before leaning down to kiss Sebastian's cheek and leaving the tavern.

  The rain had turned into a fine drizzle and the sun appeared to be attempting to peek out from behind the clouds in spots. It was already hot and the air felt thick and viscid against my skin. If the sun came out, the temperatures would soar up to unbea
rable heights. It was the perfect day for a swim in the clear waters of the bay.

  I stopped in at the warehouse and bought tea, ink, and two blank books. I carried these back to our cabin, found a soft piece of flannel to use as a towel after my swim, and headed out to a secluded section of the bay, near one of the logging sites. I knew it would be silent and still and unmanned, since Sebastian had declared Sunday a rest day.

  Ben was standing at the base of a very tall tree that would probably be the next to fall when work resumed in the morning. He was staring up into the canopy, one hand raised to shield his eyes, the other fisted on his hip.

  I stood next to him and looked up. “Do you see it?” he asked quietly. “Just there.” He pointed to a black shape partially hidden by some large leaves.

  I tilted my head and squinted into the branches. The leaves covering the shape shifted, revealing a black-furred humanoid shape with a long, grasping tail. I gasped softly. “Is that a monkey?” I asked.

  “Yes. One of them demon howlers. It have a baby on it. You see?”

  I could just barely make out a smaller shape, clinging to the larger monkey. It peered down at us with bright, intelligent eyes. I grinned at it. “It's darling,” I said. Ben nodded and we stood for a long, silent moment, watching the monkeys before they left, disappearing almost silently deeper into the trees, with only the soft susurrus of leaves marking their passing.

  “You want to go swimming with me?” I asked as I followed him to a tree stump and sat down on it next to him, back to back.

  “No. I don't swim.”

  “Oh, yes. That's right.” We silently for a moment before I rose and turned to kiss the top of his head. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

  “One day,” he said, still holding my hand but not looking at me. Instead his gaze was over the water. “One day, you be just like that mama monkey. You have a baby hanging off you.”

  “Did Mama Danto tell you this?”

  He shook his head and looked up at me, a most serious expression in his eyes. “No. Tansy did. She be telling me this in a dream I had last night. She tell me you have a baby soon.” He grinned at me and squeezed my hand. “She be happy for you.”