The Siren's Song

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “Gilly. Give me the bottle.”

  “I will not.” She stiffened as he closed the meager distance between them.

  “Please, Gilly. Don’t make me do this.”

  Her mouth tight, she glared at him. He took another step and she turned to block him with her shoulder. A useless attempt. Drake grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him.

  “No!”

  She drew out the bottle from her pouch and held it out at arm’s length, which was a mite shorter than she had anticipated. Drake snatched the bottle away.

  “No! Give it back!”

  Drake shoved her back onto the bed. “Sit.” He held up a cautionary palm. “Stay. Don’t get up.”

  She crossed her arms and streams of tears stained her cheeks.

  He whiffed the vial’s opening. Strong. Bitter. “What do you need laudanum for, Gilly?”

  “It’s for my cough.” She looked away, staring at the wall.

  “You don’t have a cough.”

  “That’s because of the laudanum, you ninny.”

  “Stop lying.”

  Her arms slumped to her lap and she turned back, tears choking her plea. “Please, give it back. Please.”

  “There’s hardly a drop left,” he said.

  “Please,” she cried. “I need it.”

  It pained Drake to see her so upset. Her whole body shook while she sobbed.

  “Laudanum is highly dangerous, darling. ’Tis not something you toy with.”

  “I know that,” she spat.

  “You’re treating this last drop like it was a crown jewel. What do you really need it for?”

  “I need it because of you,” she sneered. “Your cruel devices have shamed me. Over and over, you take to humiliating me.”

  Humiliating her? He wasn’t at fault. She was, with her seductive power of attraction and temptress smiles.

  “No, I don’t believe that I am to blame.” He inspected the bottle. “Not for this.”

  The laudanum was what she had kept hidden from him in her satchel. What else did she hide? He grabbed the bag and dumped out the remainder of its contents. Another empty bottle and a tarnished pocket watch clunked onto the desk. He picked up the timepiece. Rubbing his thumb across the dirty glass, he noted the time was incorrect. The piece might fetch a nice price when repaired and polished.

  “Get your filthy hands off my papa’s watch.” She plucked it from his hand and scooped up her bag. The watch disappeared inside her purse. No way would anyone get that bag from her with how she clutched it to her bosom.

  He understood now why Gilly had been so foolish to risk drowning for the bag. She was self-addicted to the potion. Addiction was a terrible penalty for reprieve. He knew this better than most.

  “How long have you been taking the laudanum?”

  “’Tis none of your concern.”

  She was right. Her problem was not his. You’ve your own demons. Don’t bear witness to hers.

  “Very well.”

  She blinked, skeptical that he meant to let the matter lie.

  “I shall leave you to yourself.” He made a decisive, if not regrettable, decision. “And, I release you of any debt to me.”

  “No more, er…”

  “No.”

  She petted the velvet fabric of her bag. “Oh.”

  Could she be disappointed? He shook off the notion.

  “You will stay in your cabin until we dock. I’ll send Valeryn for you then. Your door will be locked, for your protection.” And his.

  He handed her the laudanum bottle. Surprised, she looked up. He nodded and she slipped the vial from his fingers. She did need it; he wouldn’t deny it from her.

  Drake had to get out of there. Her sadness pushed upon him. Hopelessness settled in her blank expression and sluggish movements. He had to clear his head. Now. Before he closed her door, he paused, refusing to look back. Like hell would he look back, as much for not wanting to see more of her despair as because of his cold heart.

  “Sleep well, Gilly.”

  * * *

  Drake couldn’t get to his rum fast enough. Glass bits crunched under his boot as he chose a bottle from his chest of absolution. He promptly snatched up his tankard and rounded his desk. Where the devil was that pouch? He rummaged through the drawers until he found the cloth filled with powdery gunpowder. With rum, his mug, the gunpowder and Abel’s knife displayed before him, he sat. Drake finished off and refreshed his cup. Opening the pouch, he added several pinches of the gunpowder to his drink and, using the knife, stirred. He swung open a window. Cool breezes drifted in and he listened to the ocean surf murmur sounds of comfort and lies.

  With his stout gunpowder rum, he would deaden his stirring cock and numb his thoughts, both past and present.

  Chapter Nine

  Gilly emerged from the hatch and stepped into another bright day of the unknown. Her bizarre journey on board the pirate ship had come to an end. She should be overjoyed to be on solid ground again. Instead, formless emotions percolated throughout her in an eddy of confusion. Yet, she had a real sense of despondency. And regret.

  She desperately missed Hyde. He had comforted her. He would tell her what to do. He always did. With him, she didn’t worry with decisions of any kind. You just look pretty and sing pretty. I’ll take care of the rest. One of his favorite things to say.

  Strangely, thoughts of Hyde had given way to thoughts of Captain Drake. This but made her angry. The incorrigible man had her thinking of him in adulterous ways, betraying her love for Hyde. She should hate him for toying with her affections. Yet, as she glimpsed him by the gangway, relaxed, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol, talking with Captain Mott, her heart fluttered.

  Stupid girl.

  Her adventure was over. Gilly must concentrate on a new life. First, she would seek out an apothecary and quickly procure more laudanum. She hadn’t gone more than a few hours without in months. The anxiety of having none itched across her nerves. Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth and she couldn’t stop fidgeting. She was certain she had worn the floorboards in her cabin thin from pacing. A full dose would set her right again. A full dose would bring back her courage. Only then could she search for work. Surely, a tavern owner would find her an asset to his business.

  Seagulls flew overhead and squawked in a harum-scarum chorus. Fishy odors hung thick in the air. The Rissa’s crew busied unloading boxes. Crates swung over to waiting dock hands. Provisional barrels were rolled onto the ship. Beyond, Nassau’s port bustled with activity. Banging of hammers reverberated in a constant drone from the nearby shipyard. Workers milled about through rows and rows of boxes, barrels and lumber lining the docks. Endless lengths of rope seemed to be strung from every pulley, piling and post.

  Valeryn led her to his waiting captain.

  “Must we?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Valeryn halted. “Pardon my asking, what happened between you two after I left?”

  “An unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  Valeryn nodded. “That’s what Thayer said.” He glanced at the captain. “I’ll tell you true, nothing excites Thayer more than battle, treasure and a good bottle of rum. But when he spoke of you and described how lovely you sang for him, I could swear there was something different about him.”

  Was that good or bad? “Different how?”

  He took a deep breath. “’Tis none of my business. Come along.”

  Captain Drake shook Captain Mott’s hand. The Rowena’s captain gave her a disapproving sideways glance then turned on his heel and left the ship.

  “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve allowed Captain Mott to keep all his rigging, sails and hardware, Miss McCoy.”

  Valeryn’s brow shot up.

  “A token of my compassion
to a fellow sea captain.”

  “You didn’t do that for my benefit.” She tilted her chin in wary disbelief.

  “Nay.”

  “No doubt your generosity has unaffected your gains.”

  He conceded with a shrug.

  Long moments passed. She should say something. This would be the last time she saw him. The last time she would look into those dark, mysterious eyes, or get a glimpse of his sculpted chest under the unlaced collar of his tunic.

  “Um. Thank you for giving me this dress.” She smoothed down the stomacher in a nervous bid to keep her hands busy.

  “Your old one was ruined and smelled awful and, besides, you look pretty in it.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat.

  Pretty. I look pretty to him. Seemed like an unusual thing for him to say and yet, her belly flip-flopped.

  Something caught his attention on the horizon behind her. Two ships sailed around the cape into the harbor. “The Alligator,” the captain said. “Valeryn, fetch up the manifest. We need to get the salvaged goods to the auction house for payment. I’m in no mood to hassle with Lynch and the treasury today.”

  “Right.” Valeryn turned to Gilly and bowed. “Miss McCoy, it was a pleasure.”

  “Likewise.”

  They were alone. Captain Drake and Gilly, alone among the hustle of his crewmen.

  “About last night.” He paused.

  Another awkward moment passed. She’d rather just forget about the whole debacle. All the same, she wanted to know what happened. He held her so tenderly, kissed her so magically. Nothing else mattered but to be in his embrace. Then he turned cold. Made her feel like a fool. She would have given him her heart. And for what? One fleeting night of passion? Yes. He drove her positively mad. And when he caught her with her liquid sanctuary, she couldn’t have felt any more idiotic. What did he have to say to her now? Would he castigate her? Would he apologize? Would he tell her why he acted so? Could she hope for more?

  “I wanted to…”

  “Yes?”

  He frowned. “You sang beautifully.”

  “Oh.” She felt as if she were sinking all over again. Helpless in a swirling mass of despair. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, well, good luck to you, Gilly.”

  “And you, Captain Drake.”

  Clutching her bag tight, she strode down the gangplank, desperately fighting back tears. No more tears. For God’s sake, no more tears.

  Gilly chanced a look over her shoulder after gaining some distance from the docks. The Rissa, bare masts like winter trees, rose majestically to the clear sky. She sat proud among the other boats in the harbor. A single, formidable entity, much like her captain.

  She wouldn’t spare Captain Thayer Drake another thought. What was done, was done. Her heart beat raw. She had lost Hyde. Her love for him could never be replaced. And yet the emerging emotions for the captain and his trifling caused her core to hemorrhage. Putting it all behind her—Hyde, Abel, her ordeal on the Rowena, Captain Drake and his games—was best. She faced a daunting task to start anew.

  Men in dress attire and fashionable ladies ducked in and out of buildings colorfully painted in blues, yellows and apricots. Specialty shops showed off their wares from meat pies to feathered hats in display windows. A merchant manning a cart of fresh fruits and vegetables wished her a good day. Gilly reciprocated with a smile. She caught a whiff of the freshly baked goods a woman stacked in hanging baskets outside a cozy storefront. The port town hummed with life and her fear abated. Gilly noticed the skip in her step as she listened to the lively music flowing from alehouse after alehouse, many of which had imaginative signs hanging from iron arms welcoming eager sailors. Yes, she would find work here.

  But Gilly had something else in mind she must do first.

  A steady stream of people, seamen mostly, passed through the large open double doors of a ship chandler. Gilly stopped a freshly shaven young man, dressed in mismatched garb for a day in port, leaving the store carrying an assortment of tools on his shoulder.

  “Pardon me, good sir. Do you know where I might find an apothecary?”

  He looked her over with an appreciative hungry smile. “Aye, lass. Just up the avenue, there’s a lane that breaks off to the right, opposite of the square. There you’ll find a yellow building, small, with shutters. Would ya like me to walk you?”

  “You’re very kind, but no. Thank you.”

  The disappointed fellow shrugged and Gilly hurried down the avenue, weaving around casual strollers and rowdy sailors. Rounding the corner, she spied the shop. Her skin quivered with relief at the tinkling of the storefront bell.

  A gangly man with patches of brown, slicked hair above his large ears looked up over the round lenses of his glasses. He pushed aside his pestle and mortar. “May I help you?”

  “I’d like laudanum, please.”

  He looked past her as if he expected a companion.

  She tipped her chin up under his scrutiny. “You do have laudanum, don’t you? Your sign out front says you carry all manner of elixirs.”

  He blubbered under her charge. “Yes, I carry laudanum.” The apothecary shuffled through a shelf filled with jars and bottles of varying heights and colors. He selected a small vial with a pale pink-colored label.

  “No,” she said. “The larger bottle please.”

  He frowned. “What is your ailment? I may have another remedy.”

  Gilly leveled an icy glare at the man. “I find it rude that you should ask,” she said. Hyde had always provided the opiate and she suspected she might have difficulty purchasing it. It was best to ward off the entanglement of defending her reasons. “The laudanum please.”

  “My apologies.” He placed the bigger container on the countertop. Rather than wait for him to tell her what she owed, she pulled out her father’s watch and placed it on the counter.

  Shame filled the fractures of her breaking heart. She had fallen low, so, so low. She blinked back the stinging tears. It’s just a broken old watch. You’ve still got your memories of Papa.

  “It’s silver.” She slid it toward him. “It’s worth well more than your tincture.”

  He inspected the watch through his rimmed glasses, turning it over and tapping the face. Without a word, he nodded, pocketing the timepiece.

  Gilly bit back her relief at his approval of their trade. She slipped the object of her vice into her bag, thanked the apothecary and left before he changed his mind. She rushed down the sidewalk out of view from the apothecary’s watchful eye should he look out his window after her. The other side of a melon display was far enough. Pressing her back to a wall, she pulled out the laudanum. The sun glinted off its glass neck. The word Poison was emblazoned across the label. The warning was all in how one looked at it. For Gilly, the potion posed no harm, or none she cared to admit. She pulled off the top and swiped at a tear. “Forgive me, Papa.” Bottom up, she choked on the tart gulp.

  Closing her eyes, she let the liquid course down her throat, coating her insides with invincibility. She exhaled slowly. Calmness blanketed her anxiety. What should be the immediate worries of an unaccompanied woman in a strange city far from home were cleansed away by the sharp medicine flushing down to her gut. Ah, blessedness.

  Gilly looked back in the direction of the docks. She had passed many taverns. She’d start looking for work with the ones that were most respectable.

  A chill crept up her neck and the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. Someone watched her. Gilly searched the crowds pulsing through the avenue. So many people. They all seemed harmless. None paid her attention. Yet she felt the eyes upon her, felt danger lurking near. There! Back in front of the apothecary’s shop.

  That worm, Abel, pointed directly at her. With him were two nasty fiends. Her heart seized. She recognized Abel’s consorts
. They were the same men who killed Hyde. How in the world had they found her?

  She darted in the opposite direction. Jostling through pedestrians, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Blurs of color sped by. One glimpse behind her confirmed the men followed chase, and they were gaining. The cobblestone ground jarred her knees with every footfall’s pounding percussion. She would not be able to outrun them for long.

  Think, Gilly!

  The square teemed with shoppers and horse-drawn wagons. If she could get across, she might lose the scoundrels in the large emporium. Their footsteps were upon her. She had to get away.

  Gilly sped in front of a cart topped high with crates, spooking the horse. The beast neighed and reared. Hooves narrowly missed her head. She dashed away and the horse jolted the cart forward, blocking her pursuers. No longer in their line of sight, Gilly dove into a covered carriage and crouched down. She let her eyes adjust to the dark interior and peered out the curtain.

  “Merciful Heavens.” An elderly gentleman holding a silver knobbed cane between his legs sat on the bench across from her. His top hat lay on the seat next to him. “I should visit town more often.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” she whispered.

  Loud voices outside carried into the coach and she froze, petrified. Gilly and the old man stared at one another. His hand tightened on his cane. Did his cane’s handle conceal a hidden sword? Would he force her out of his carriage? Thankfully, the men moved on. She bowed her head acknowledging the gentleman hadn’t given her away.

  “I was in a pickle like you once.” A fond memory glazed his visage. “A gaggle of spirited maidens vying for my affection, and my fortune, cornered me in the governor’s labyrinth garden. ’Twas frightening, you can be sure.” He chuckled.

  “What did you do?”

  “I wasn’t so lucky. I married one of them.”

  He winked. “Better luck to you, young miss.”

  Gilly peeped out the drape. Abel and the assassins were nowhere to be seen. She smiled at the gentleman, slipped out the carriage and ran back across the square.

  Where would she go? Where would she hide? She was trapped. Abel knew of her profession. They would be looking for her in every alehouse on the island. Those murderers followed her all the way to Nassau. Why? What did Hyde do? What could these men want from her? Whatever the reason, she doubted they would give up their search and sail back to Florida. Not until she was dead. What was she going to do? She had no money to book passage out of New Providence. Even if she did, Hyde’s killers would surely follow. It was only a matter of time before she was caught. Heaven help me.