by Scott Cook
Most of this was muttered as he headed for the doorway and more could be heard although not made out as the old man stomped forward. Kate couldn’t contain herself anymore and began to chuckle.
“My word…” Meraux grumbled. “Don’t know how your captain put up with that man… well, please have a seat. The coffee pot is still mostly full… may I pour you a cup, Mistress Cook?”
It was just before five bells in the morning watch and the thought of a hot cup of coffee brightened Kate’s spirits far more than any wine could at that hour. She accepted the cup gratefully. Although outwardly, she maintained her air of cool complacency.
When they had their coffee cups filled, Meraux once again sat behind the desk and Kate sat on the cushioned locker beneath the sash windows. She sipped the brew sweetened with sugar and fresh goat’s milk and asked: “What are your plans for us, Captain?”
He smiled, “We’ll evaluate your vessel and its cargo and then deliver you to the nearest friendly port where a prize court will handle the purchase and prize money. I’m sure that at that time, your people will be set at liberty and passage to one of your friendly ports might be arranged. Perhaps we might even arrange to deliver everyone to Charleston.”
Kate eyed him coolly. In spite of his amiable demeanor, she suspected he was enjoying the power he held over his English captives. A heady brew that he’d only just begun to savor.
“How generous,” Kate said coldly. “I assume your closest port of call will be Saint Augustine? Since your government is in bed with the Spanish, after all.”
For a brief moment, Meraux appeared confused or perhaps even surprised, as if he didn’t actually know to where the ships would sail. Or perhaps he didn’t have any knowledge of St. Augustine’s existence to start with.
Could that be possible? Could a man indeed put to sea without the slightest knowledge of the area in which he intended to operate?
“May I ask where we are, Captain?” Kate inquired, only partly out of curiosity. Although she hadn’t seen a chart in days, she had known the vessel’s position when the action had begun. She had a rough idea of where their current anchorage was, yet she suspected that Meraux might not.
He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. He then smiled, “I’m afraid that information should be kept privileged for the time being. In truth… this inlet has no name, at least not on your English charts.”
She was convinced that it wasn’t security which held him back, but ignorance. Meraux had no idea where the two vessel’s had moored! It was inconceivable to Kate… yet that seemed to be the case with Meraux. A realization that was further substantiated by his next statement.
“As regards where we shall sail… I shall consult the charts,” He said airily. “But you’re likely correct. You seem very knowledgeable about the sea, Mistress Cook… may I call you Catherine?”
Kate shrugged, “Certainly… Pierre. And you mean to say, I seem to know much of the sea… for a woman.”
Meraux chuckled and sipped his coffee, studying her intently over the rim of his mug. Kate knew that he was ogling her, as many men did. She didn’t care, however.
“I’ve never met a woman such as you,” Meraux admitted. “One who can serve a canon. One who understands the workings of a sailing ship. One who fights like an Amazon warrior of Greek myth. I must admit to a very strong admiration, Catherine.”
“I grind whatever grist the mill requires,” she offered neutrally.
He grinned and leaned back, “But how did you come by this knowledge? Most girls your age and of your apparent breeding do not engage in such… manly pursuits.”
“I’m not most girls,” Kate said. “I come from a seafaring family.”
“Ah yes, the great Captain Cook,” Meraux said. “Even I, a Frenchman new to the sea has heard that name. Your grandfather, of course. Yet… if I’m not mistaken, he died a little before your birth.”
Kate nodded, “Yes. My father carried on his tradition and taught me many things… before he was killed in a battle with your countrymen several years ago.”
“I would very much enjoy hearing your story,” Meraux said. “Would you care for another cup?”
Kate drained what was left in her cup and held it out, “I’m far more interested in hearing yours, Pierre. For instance, I’d be most obliged to hear you explain how you’re going to keep your men from abusing my passengers.”
Meraux stood and retrieved the pot from the sideboard and refilled their mugs near to the brim. He gazed down at her with a twinkle in his brown eyes that she found discomfiting.
“Has anyone been abused?” he asked innocently.
“Not as yet,” She replied firmly. “But that’s only because they’ve been too busy working us into this anchorage and sleeping to pursue their more… venal desires.”
“And what do you mean by your passengers?” Meraux asked, still standing over her.
She met his gaze with blazing eyes, “This ship is mine now, Pierre. Captain Woodbine, who has just died as a result of your actions, has charged me to care for her and his passengers.”
Meraux chuckled, “Let me disabuse you of that notion right now, Catherine. This ship is mine to do with as I please. It is a prize, just as, were the situation reversed, it would be yours, n’est-ce pas?”
“You may have captured the vessel and its cargo,” Kate said vehemently. “But these men and women are non-combatants. They will not be harmed. I will not permit it.”
“Indeed?” Meraux asked with genuine curiosity. He seated himself behind the desk again, “your dedication is admirable. I’m touched. Perhaps we can come to some agreement on that account.”
His meaning was plain and the hungry look in his eye was all but a blatant declaration. Kate laughed, “Oh, indeed? I succumb to your charms as it were? Allow you to, as we say at sea, put the leg over and you’ll guarantee that none of your men will rape any of my female passengers, is that it?”
“Come, come!” Meraux made a show of protesting, “You do me a great injustice, Catherine! I only suggest that if you and I have une comprehension, an understanding… perhaps even a friendship… it might make the situation more amenable, eh? I admire you and would enjoy talking with you at leisure. Sharing a meal and so on.”
“I see,” Kate said flatly.
“If during the course of our voyage, you develop a kindness for me, well…” Meraux suggested expansively. “Who am I to refuse such a spirited and beautiful young woman?”
“Who indeed,” Kate said.
“However, since you raised the subject,” Meraux went on. “We now come to the reason I summoned you this morning.”
“Summoned, Pierre?” Kate asked dispassionately but with narrowed lids. “I don’t recall being summoned. Had you been so impertinent as to summon me anywhere, we most certainly would not be having this pleasant conversation.”
Pierre chuckled with an air of forbearance, “Such spirit. Very well… the reason I asked you to visit me this morning is over a concern I have regarding our respective crews. Just as you wish me to stay the hands of my men, I must insist on the same of you. Let us agree that the situation is as it stands and have no more bloodshed. No attempts at retaking the brig, no nighttime attacks on the sentries… a peaceful and pleasant voyage to our port, oui?”
“Have I not already given my parole in that regard?” Kate asked.
“For yourself, yes,” Pierre said. “Yet I believe this is a point worth revisiting.”
Kate would not make any promise of honor to this man. She then realized that she probably wouldn’t have to. Personal honor was a man’s issue. Women didn’t engage in it as a rule. Meraux would probably not even think to ask for her word of honor. Not for her to provide such parole for the entire crew at any rate.
“I’ll keep the peace if you will,” Kate simply said.
“Excellente!” Meraux enthused, clapping his hands together. “I’m so glad. Well, as much as I do enjoy your company, Catherine… I have much
work to do. I never realized there was so much paperwork attached to merchant service… manifests, bills of lading… purser’s accounts… boatswain’s stores… sacré blue…”
He sighed wearily, the very picture of the overworked administrator. Kate only grinned at him. It was the sort of grin a rabbit might see on the face of the wolf just before dissolution.
“Oh, before I forget,” Meraux said as Kate rose, having to duck her head so as not to strike the deck beams above. “Would you dine with me this afternoon?”
“I’d be very happy,” she said. “Good luck with your paperwork… and with old Wiggins.”
Meraux chuckled and Kate strode out. The sentry she’d kicked was on his feet again, although leaning heavily on the bulkhead. He eyed her with abject fury as she walked by.
“You’ll pay for that, putain,” he hissed as she passed.
With speed worthy of an adder, Kate whipped around to face the man. So stunned was he that his mind didn’t even have time to react before he found himself pinned to the bulkhead, the tall girl pressing her weight on him and her surprisingly strong right hand clamped around his windpipe. Her lovely face was only inches from his rapidly reddening one.
“You ever speak to me in that manner again you French salaud,” Kate growled. “And I’ll cut out your entrails and feed you to the sharks, you hear me, there!?”
Kate pushed away and turned her back to stride down the corridor. The sentry stared after her, feeling no small degree of shock, anger and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, fear. This big strong young woman was dangerous, to be sure.
5
It was just before lunchtime when Lisa drove us across the Venetian Causeway and into the Sunset Islands region of south Miami. These exclusive gated communities, located right on Biscayne Bay, offered gorgeous homes with great views of the ocean or the bay, and all you needed to get one was a few million and a smile to match.
Lisa’s mother lived in one of these luxurious Mediterranean style homes, one whose backyard opened onto the Bay, both providing a deep-water dock as well as spectacular sunset views over the bay and the city skyline. A few years ago, Aleja Gonzalez, now Aleja Davis, had moved into one of these homes and was always more than pleased to open it to her daughter and me.
However, although Aleja had done well for herself as a physical therapist, it wasn’t until she met and married George Davis that her situation had turned so luxurious. George was a successful real estate investor who owned several hotels on South Beach, a thriving business park in Hialeah, an apartment community in Cutler Bay and even one of the popular Biscayne Bay dinner cruise boats that operated out of the downtown waterfront region.
Although a warm and amiable man who clearly doted on Aleja, his relationship with Lisa was a little strained. There was no animosity between them, yet after spending a little time with them, you’d sense a certain distance. I think it was partly due to the fact that George referred to his wife as Allie, that he insisted that she give up her therapy practice, at least full-time so they could spend more time together and the mild jealousy that appeared once in a while when his beautiful new wife garnered the attention of other men.
On some level, I couldn’t blame old George, who was an average looking fifty-year old man. Aleja was the very spitting image of her daughter… well, I suppose that should be the other way around. At forty-seven, Aleja was still very much the intoxicating beauty her daughter was. Save for an extra three inches of height and just the barest hint of wrinkles around her eyes and subtle laugh lines, it was easy to believe that Aleja was Lisa’s slightly older sister.
To be fair, George’s jealousy wasn’t overt. He wasn’t a guy who insisted his lovely woman go out wearing an old burlap sack so no other men would look at her. He wasn’t a man to accuse her of cheating or even eyeing other men with embarrassing regularity. Yet every now and then, there was a certain possessiveness. A subtle hint of his insecurity and worry that a woman a few years younger and several notches higher on the scale might find herself a younger and more attractive… and maybe even richer… man.
In spite of this, though, the two seemed to get along well together and there was certainly a real affection between them. I believe that Lisa’s considerable intuitive powers just tuned her in to this undertone and it kept her from totally accepting George as the right man for her mom.
“You okay staying with them rather than getting a hotel?” I asked as Lisa cleared the gate.
She shrugged, “Yeah, it’s cool. It’s not that I don’t like George… he’s a nice guy. I guess there’s just a little something that keeps me from loving him, if that makes any sense. But we get along and have never really had an issue. He’s only been with mom for four years anyway. I was out of the house and at school long before they got together. My mom seems happy so that’s all that matters. Long as he treats her right.”
I nodded.
“Not everybody has what we have, baby,” She said, squeezing my hand.
I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it gently, “I don’t know why… but that makes me happy and yet a little sad, too.”
“I know what you mean,” she said as we pulled into the driveway.
The Davis’ home was a modest thirty-five hundred square foot Spanish colonial complete with a corrugated tile roof. Aside from the lush and carefully manicured front lawn, the house backed up to the bay and featured a large screened in pool and what remained of the carefully manicured back yard ended at the seawall. From this, a fifty-foot dock extended out over the water and opened up to a large covered deck. Tied to the end of this railed pier was a forty foot Scarab painted red and white. A go-fast boat that, while impressive in lines and speed was just about the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
It was one more little thing that tweaked Lisa about George. She felt that this go-fast boat was something of a phallic expression. I wasn’t sure if that was true… but I was sure that it was impossible to hold either a drink or a conversation on the thing while underway.
Lisa parked her Mercedes GLC SUB on the right side of the drive and we stepped out. I grabbed our two bags from the cargo area and we hadn’t even made it to the front door when it flew open and Aleja’s smiling face greeted us.
“Mija!” She enthused, wrapping her daughter in her arms and kissing her. “Oh! You look so beautiful!”
Aleja still had a bit of her Cuban accent, although it was fairly subdued. It was one that became more noticeable the more excited she got. Sort of like my Rhode Island in truth. Lisa’s mom turned to me and grinned.
“Ay dios mio!” Aleja said appreciatively. She looked me up and down and then threw herself into my arms. “You must be the sexiest man alive, Scotty! How are you?”
I laughed, “Your kindly lie has swelled my heart, Aleja. How about you? You look amazing.”
She did, too. Her lithe body was very similar to her daughter’s. Long toned limbs, a tiny waist, well-shaped hips and a set of breasts that were firm and full. Her straight black hair fell halfway down her back and her heart-shaped face was damned near model perfect. She wore a pastel sun dress that left her arms bare and accentuated her figure very nicely.
“Oh, I’m wonderful, Mijo,” She said with delight in her brown eyes. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that my daughter came to her senses and came back for you.”
This was the first time we’d visited together since Lisa had come back to Florida in August.
I chuffed, “Not for me, Aleja… she just couldn’t stay away from the sunshine.”
Lisa scoffed, “I do love Florida… especially with him in it.”
Aleja led us into the house. There were three bedrooms on the second floor, two guest rooms and an expansive master suite. The first floor consisted of the formal living and dining rooms, large open kitchen and family room as well as George’s office and a guest suite that could be closed off with a pocket door. It was here that I put our bags.
“I hope you guys are hungry,” Aleja said as
we gathered around the large angled bar that separated the kitchen from the family room. Both were in the rear of the house and a wall of sliding glass gave a spectacular view of the pool, dock and sun-dappled waters of Biscayne Bay beyond.
“I am,” I said, inhaling and smiling. The aroma of authentic Cuban cooking made my mouth water.
“You’re always hungry,” Lisa teased.
“I love a hungry man,” Aleja said with a smile. “I made Vaca Frita, coconut rice, steamed veggies and papas rienas.”
I smacked my lips and rubbed my belly. The two women laughed.
“He’ll never want to leave now, mom,” Lisa said.
Aleja grinned, “Mija, what did I always tell you about keeping a man happy? It only takes two things… and one is to keep his belly full of good food.”
Lisa shook her head, “Yeah, and you know I’ve never been much of a cook. It’s Scott who’s the chef.”
Her mother winked at me, “I know. A man who cooks! Are you going to treat us while you’re hear, Scotty?”
Of course,” I said, smiled wickedly and winked at Lisa. “But only if you tell me what the other thing is to keep a man happy, Aleja.”
Lisa blushed beet red, “Scott…”
Aleja giggled, “Oh, that’s easy! Make love to him with all your heart and as often as you can and you’ll both be happy forever.”
“Sold!” I declared, raising a hand in the air.
“Geez, mom…” Lisa groaned and covered her face. “I gotta use the restroom!”
Aleja and I laughed and she came over to me, “I’m so glad she’s back. Both for me and for you two.”