The Noble Pirates

by Rima Jean

  I let out a laugh. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, why did it take so long for anything to happen between us? Why were you holding out on me?”

  “Ah.” He smiled, a bit wistfully. “I had me reasons.”

  “Tell me. I need to know,” I insisted.

  Howel became thoughtful, gazing up at the ceiling. “I’ve wanted you, Sabrina, since I first realized you was a lass, aboard the Cadogan. When the Igbo woman talked about Sabrina the Charmed Woman, I realized that you weren’t just another pretty lass to have me way with.” He hesitated. “I know you had something to do with me release from the gaol. They might’ve charged and convicted me of piracy in any case, were it not for you. And when I was released, there you were, waiting for me. You have a magic about you, Sabrina. Something that drew me in, beyond mere attraction. Then, at the Black Dog, you told me you were from the future, said you were determined to change me fate. Something in the way you said it…”

  He rubbed his face and exhaled slowly. “I had already decided what me course of action was. I decided to go on the account while locked up in the hold of the Cadogan, and here you were, reading me thoughts, your face so open and trusting, so full of faith in me, a man who’d already decided to turn pirate. It was… too much for me.”

  I listened attentively, gently stroking the hair that trailed down from his navel. “And so you left me.”

  Howel looked at me gravely, capturing my wandering hand with his. “Aye. I had to do what was in me heart, and though I wanted you, magical woman from the future, you held me in too high regard. You believed in me, when I had lost all belief in meself. And when you followed me, I thought I couldn’t go through with it. I had to put you away from me, if not in the physical sense, then in me mind.”

  “And now?” I laughed uneasily. “Did I just wear you down?”

  He stroked my cheek with his callused sailor’s hands. “I was going to be a pirate. You were going to try and stop me. And I was tired of denying this… magic.” He smiled that familiar roguish smile of his. “This ploy… having you pose as me wife. It was to get you in me bed as much as it was to fool the Portuguese.”

  I smiled broadly. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, you know. You could have had me that night after your first capture. I wouldn’t have resisted one bit.” Hell, if I was being completely honest with myself, he could have had me way back on the Cadogan, before the mutiny. I wasn’t sure how such an admission would go over with Howel’s 1719 sensibilities, though.

  He lifted an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? And are the women of 2011 all such brazen hussies?”

  I rolled on top of him and smacked his arm, laughing. “Life in 2011 is really quite boring compared to all of this. And the women are no more brazen than your Meg.”

  He laughed at this. “So the women of 2011 are no more brazen than a whore of 1719? Damn me! I’m living in the wrong era, apparently.”

  We began to kiss again, and Howel mumbled, “Woman, you will spend me… I am useless to do anything but your bidding…”

  And that was just the way I wanted it, thank you very much.

  At some point in the late morning, Walter Kennedy and Thomas Anstis came looking for their captain, knocking on the door and calling for “Captain Reed.” When Howel answered the door in a state of disarray, his clothes only partially on, and a crooked smiled on his face, the two men grinned.

  “‘Twas about time,” Walter grumbled, winking at me playfully. “Good day, Will… er… Madam.”

  I stood, fully dressed, my hair still down. I could not look the two grinning pirates in the face for the life of me. I felt my cheeks flaming. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  Walter turned his attention back to Howel. “The governor is getting a good chuckle from your… er… inability to leave your bedchamber, Cap’n.”

  Howel scratched his head. “Aye, I’ll wager he is, the lecherous old scoundrel.” He looked at me slyly. “He has an eye for Sabrina.” He scooped his stockings from the floor and said, “Tell him I’m on me way…”

  “Nay, Cap’n,” Walter said, smiling. “He wanted us to ask you to dine with him in the evening, but to enjoy your pretty little wife and take your leisure.” Walter’s eyes were bright with excitement. “He wants the men of the Buck to come ashore and enjoy the city. A real fop, he is, a real dandy!”

  Howel rubbed chin. “Is that so? Then maybe we’ll tarry a while here in São Nicolau, what think you, Wife?” He looked at me and smiled.

  He would hear no objections from me. If lounging about, making love to Howel Davis, and taking advantage of Governor Agostinho’s generosity were what was on the agenda, then hell yes, we should tarry! Tarry away.

  And tarry away we did – for a few weeks, in fact. Governor Agostinho lavished Howel and his crew with everything they could want, mainly wine, women, and good food. The crew of the Buck was welcome into the town, and the merchants happily traded their goods for the French cargo Howel had, unbeknownst to them, plundered in the Caribbean. Perhaps a few of the savvy among them wondered at Captain Charles Reed’s true identity – he and his men were quite the band of revelers – but said nothing, for the cargo he bore was valuable to them, and they paid in gold and silver.

  While Howel conducted business in Ribeira Brava, I mingled with the Portuguese noblewomen who lived, either as relatives or wives of relatives, in the governor’s villa. Or, more appropriately, I tried to mingle. I had absolutely nothing to say to them, and they even less to me, especially considering the language barrier. The only pretty one among them, Fabia, was clearly a queen bee, and had made her disdain for me – and interest in Howel – very clear. I must have seemed awkward in their midst, as they embroidered together and practiced their music. I often hid in our room, practicing cuts and parries with a cutlass. I may not have been able to sing a song, play a pianoforte, or paint a bouquet of flowers, but I was going to adeptly sink several feet of steel into the vitals of the next unlucky bastard who tried to kill me. If my brain was going to rot in “leisure activities,” they were, come hell or high water, going to be activities of my choosing.

  My brain was not at rest, either: I spent much of my time alone thinking about the future. I remembered Ruth’s words:You can go back … one who got here like you, he know how … he … black pirate . . . I had yet to see an African pirate, or an African who was not a slave. All I had to do was wait and keep my eyes peeled, since he would come to me. Despite finally having the long-awaited knowledge that Howel wanted me, my joy was shrouded in a mist of anxiety. Eleven months from the moment he became a pirate, Howel Davis was supposed to die “like a game cock.” June of 1719, and it was now February. It was as though an hourglass followed me, the sand trickling steadily, ominously through the narrow glass tunnel. I knew I would die trying to keep Howel from meeting the fate Rovers of the Sea had described.

  There was another issue nagging me, chipping away at my happiness – what would I do if the opportunity to return to 2011 arose before Howel’s predicted death? Deep down inside, I knew I had already decided I would stay. The best-case scenario would be if I could get Howel to come back to the future with me, but I had a feeling trying to convince him of this course of action would be a lost cause. I didn’t know what sort of catastrophic events I would wreak on the future by bringing a pirate back with me, but that was a chance I was willing to take.

  I wanted to go back to my time, there was no doubt. I could not see myself dying in the eighteenth century. I had to see Sophie and Jake again.

  But I could not leave Howel Davis.

  I rued the day when my biggest decision was whether to go to the office on a Saturday or attend Sophie’s soccer game instead. Had I really chosen mind-numbing, thankless work to the happy smiles of my child?

  These were the things that plagued me in my solitude, waiting for Howel to return to me and rescue me from my thoughts.

  In between his visits to the town to sell his goods, Howel retreated to our room in the
governor’s home and into bed – with me. I was usually going crazy with cabin fever by the time he got back, and my mood fluctuated between thrilled to see him, jealous at his freedom, and anxious for the future. I would often jump him like a horny teenager the moment he walked in the door, then become sullen and combative afterward, resentful that he would have to leave me again in the morning. There was no question about it: the women of the eighteenth century got a raw deal.

  One night several weeks into our stay in São Nicolau, Howel arrived at my door drunk and disheveled late at night, leaning heavily against Walter Kennedy and smelling distinctly of perfume. He and his “officers” Walter and Thomas had taken to calling themselves “The House of Lords,” and after selling their goods in the town would carouse with their crew, drinking, and from what I heard from those catty Portuguese women, visiting the brothels. The moment Walter left, Howel tried to take me into his arms. I dodged him, a hand firmly against his chest.

  “Don’t,” I said icily, “even consider it.”

  Howel’s eyebrows shot up. “Eh? What’s the matter, lass?” he hiccuped, swaying on his feet.

  “You smell like a two-bit whore, that’s what’s the matter,” I replied, the fury building within me. “God, Howel, I hate sounding like a shrew, but I’ve been closed up all day in this room, trying to avoid Fabia and her boring friends, and I think I may go crazy!”

  “I’m sorry for it, Sabrina,” Howel slurred, trying to pull me to him by my waist. I once again stopped him.

  “You never answered why you smell like a two-bit whore,” I said through my teeth. “I don’t want to catch any venereal diseases, thank you very much!” I hadn’t missed the way every woman in the place, genteel or otherwise, looked at him, the dashing English captain who had an air of danger – of piracy – about him. They were utterly titillated by him, and he did nothing to discourage them, smiling and bowing graciously at each as though she were the Queen herself, and the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  Howel’s eyes widened innocently. “‘Pon my soul, ‘twasn’t me, Sabrina. ‘Twas Walter and Thomas. I simply accompanied them. I’ve no interest in that, not when I’ve got this – ” he stroked my face with his finger – “waiting for me here.” He smiled at me, that Howel smile, his eyes crinkling adorably, and I felt my defenses wilt as the desire to nuzzle his neck overcame me. Son of a bitch. He was so good at this game, so good at getting people to do what he wanted… Before I knew it, he had me in the bed and was pinning me down, dragging his lips along my throat, my collarbone, his rough palms on my breasts, my hips.

  I was completely, utterly his, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  As I lay curled up against him later that night, his arm around me, I said softly, “I would stay like this forever, if I could.”

  He rubbed his face in my hair. “I thought you grew weary of this place, of the life of a gentlewoman.” He chuckled. “We’ve made a wanderer of you, lass.”

  “I do grow weary of it,” I replied. “But I would stand it, if it meant keeping you from a life of piracy, from a certain fate.”

  “We can’t stay here, even if I wished to,” Howel said. “Agostinho’s generosity will start to wane, and his suspicions will be roused if the good Captain Reed does not set sail once his goods have all been sold.” His hand stroked my hip mindlessly. “The men love it here. ‘Tis an island of pleasure. The drink runs freely, the women are more than willing, and the place itself is lovely. They’ll be hard-pressed to leave it.”

  “Let’s go back to the Caribbean,” I said hopefully.

  “Sabrina, there ain’t nothing for me there, you know that,” Howel said with a sigh. “Nothing but the hangman’s noose.”

  I pushed myself up on an elbow. “Then somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from Prince Island, for God’s sake.”

  Howel looked at me without seeing me, and I could tell he was thinking about his death, his mortality. Strange, the look he got on his face when thinking about it – more pensive and curious than fearful, sort of like he hadn’t fully come to grips with it yet. He knew, better than anyone, that he could die at any point, since his life was already full of risk as it was. To put a date on it, well… It was different than dealing with terminal illness, because he had never been more alive, more vibrant in his life. And, of course, there was always the chance that the book was wrong, that he could escape the fate I had made him believe waited for him.

  “Howel,” I said, interrupting both our thoughts. “If I knew how to get back to 2011… Would you come with me?”

  Howel shifted his body to face me. “How now? Are you saying you know how to get back?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t.” I hesitated, wondering how best to explain it to him. “A witch doctor in Nassau told me a pirate, a black pirate, got here the same way I did and knew the way back. She said he would come to me.”

  Howel processed this information. “Is this witch doctor to be trusted?”

  “She knew who I was, where I was from,” I replied. “The first time I went to her, she knew why I was there before I told her.”

  Howel pursed his lips thoughtfully. “A black pirate? Who’d come to you, eh?” Then he looked at me and smiled wistfully. “You’ll be leaving me, then?”

  “No,” I said fiercely. “I was asking… I want you to come back with me.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Go back with you? You ain’t serious, are you, lass?”

  “I am,” I said. “Think about it. You would be safe. You would be with me.”

  He blinked, shook his head. “Two thousand eleven is very different than now, ain’t it? I’d be like a blind man there, like a man who be daft in the head, no?”

  “Well, for a little while, I guess,” I said. “It would be an adjustment. But the same way I can adjust to being here, you can adjust to being there. Life is much easier, much more luxurious.”

  Howel got a funny look on his face. “And your husband? What would you tell him? That you brought your pirate lover back with you from the past?” He laughed. “So then I’d be both daft and unable to touch you? Nay, thankee. I’ll stay here and take me chances.”

  I tightened my jaw. “Then what? You’ll let me leave you?”

  He responded by cupping my face in his hands tenderly. “Perhaps once upon a time I would have told you to go back to your family, but now? Now I am embracing the life of the selfish brigand entirely, and now I say you are mine, and that you should stay with me.” He smiled, but his eyes hardened a bit. “I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, and I want you to spend it with me, self-seeking bastard that I am.”

  It was what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear. I twined my arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily, and he responded in kind, his arms tight around me, his mouth pushing against mine.

  I would not leave him, not until I was sure he was safe. And even then, there was a good chance I still wouldn’t leave him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was time to go.

  “Me men are getting soft,” Howel said to me, chuckling to himself after a final audience with Governor Agostinho. “I must remind them of what they are, lest they get too used to this easy life.”

  The Buck set sail, despite its loss of five men, who had fallen in love with the island – as well as its women – and chosen to settle there. With some fifty men crammed into his fast little sloop, Howel set his sights on Maio, also among the Cape Verde Islands. “We ain’t pretending to be gentlemen this time around, Sabrina,” he told me. “Dress in your boy’s clothes and keep to the cabin.”

  I raised my chin defiantly. “I will not,” I replied. “I will fight alongside you.”

  Howel shook his head and rolled his eyes, huffing in frustration. “Dammit, woman! Do you realize – I’d go mad if something happened to you!”

  I smiled. “And I’d go mad if something happened to you. Better to be useful than sit in the cabin biting my nails down to the quic
k.”

  “You know nothing will happen to me. I am ‘pistol-proof,’ say me men.” He grinned audaciously. “So long as I stay away from Prince Island.”

  I would not be swayed. “Your reasoning is flawed, but never mind. So long as you put yourself at risk, I will be beside you.” I smiled at him and saw that my bravado made him angry. He seemed to debate between yelling at me and kissing me, frustration and desire fighting in his expression.

  “You…” He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw. He cradled my head in his hand, tilting it so that I looked up at him. “You stay alive, lass. I must command this ship of brigands or be marooned for a coward, for an impotent leader. If you follow me into battle, I cannot ensure your safety. I need you to keep yourself alive. You hear me?”

  I nodded, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. “You too.”

  He gazed at me grimly, and after a moment of silence said, “You are about to see a side of me you ain’t never seen, Sabrina. It’ll be ugly, to be sure, lass. Those French ships were a bit o’ luck, and we haven’t had to face serious adversity yet. The villain in me must emerge when the fight begins, and I can only hope you still feel for me then, after you’ve seen it, the way you do now.”

  I laughed, a bit nervously. “Of course I will. I love you.”

  He nodded, unsmiling. “Remember, then, what you love about me, when you see what I am capable of doing.”

  Oh.

  Whatever. I was certain he wasn’t capable of anything worse than Edward England had been. Or at least, I hoped not.

  Maio proved to be a trove of merchant ships awaiting capture. The first was the English brigantine the Loyal Merchant. Howel peered at the lone two-masted ship through his spyglass eagerly. It was square rigged on the foremast and fore-and-aft rigged on the mainmast, like Edward England’s Royal James had been. Howel muttered, “What a fine replacement for the Buck! I want her.” He turned and ordered the chase to begin. “Let’s bear down on her, men!”