Raven Quest
Page 6
“Why?”
“If he does that, Miss Rory, he’ll be admitting he’ll never find the Raven.”
“I don’t understand! You could have your search and make a profit at the same time.”
“You think that way, as do I, but he doesn’t see it as we do. He told those he respected that he would follow the clues and become a wealthy man.” Ernest sighed and scratched his unshaven cheek. “They laughed at him when he left, and he vowed not to return until he could laugh at them.”
“Then he must sell his ship if he doesn’t find the Raven soon.”
“Aye, that he must.”
Rory’s exasperation grew while, for more than a fortnight, the ship sailed with no destination. Her frustration burst from her as she stood with Ernest and Nathan on the stern deck. “This is ridiculous!”
Exchanging a wry grin with Ernest, Nathan asked, “What is ridiculous?”
“All of this! ‘The blackbird of the dawn?’ How do you know Stuart Powell didn’t mean something other than me? He never knew me.”
“He knew of you.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
She tore herself away before he could remark on her trembling. It was both anger and fear—anger that her father would enmesh her in his horrid games, and fear that Nathan would sense her reaction to even the most chaste touch.
When Nathan leaned on the railing next to her, she said, “Maybe he knew of me or maybe not. Either way, he’s probably laughing at us from hell.”
“What if it isn’t a prank, Rory?”
“Then why hasn’t the gold been found?”
His lips twisted up at one corner. “The sea is vast. Men die. Secrets are lost.”
Putting her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Father, if you can hear me, are you enjoying this?”
“Rory Mullins!”
She spun to face Ernest’s fury. With his finger directly in front of her nose, he said, “Don’t believe if you wish, Miss Rory, but don’t disparage those of us who do.”
“How can I believe this? It’s outrageous.”
“Most things are.” He jabbed his finger in his chest. “But I believe it.”
“I can’t. You accept the story of a sailor dying in your arms, Nathan? How do you know he didn’t describe his death dreams?”
Nathan grasped her arms and scowled. “We don’t ask you to believe. We ask you to help.”
“Can’t you see, Miss Rory,” interjected the first mate, “that your existence proves the riddle is correct? Powell may have left a dozen children, but I’m sure you’re the only one with this name.”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I wish I could share your dreams, but I can’t!”
Nathan glanced at Ernest, then said, “You may not, but don’t forget that Yellow Hal Warwick does. How long do you think it’ll take him to discover who you really are, Rory?”
She backed into the railing. She fought to control her panic. When Nathan put his arms around her, she clung to him like a child frightened by a storm in the night. He cupped her chin and smiled tautly. “Warwick won’t find you, Rory.”
“I can’t believe he would try to chase us when even you don’t know where we’re bound.”
“He wants the Raven’s gold.”
“He’s a fool!”
He sighed. “They whipped all dreams from you, didn’t they?”
“I have dreams! But I don’t want excitement. I had enough of that in Port Royal. I want a quiet life.”
Nathan turned and walked away. She wanted to call after him, but Ernest said, “Leave him be.”
“But—”
“You won’t change him, Miss Rory.”
She knew Ernest was right. Nathan might treat her kindly and try to seduce her with his kisses, but he never wavered in his determination to find this gold and prove that he had not given up everything for a treasure that did not exist.
Rory went into the cabin and sat at the table. Staring out the window, she took a deep breath. Could Nathan be right? Could she have forgotten how to dream? No, she had her dreams. Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. If she dared to believe the poem would lead them to a fortune in gold, that might be the way to pay for her cozy house and garden.
But how to decipher the poem?
She leaned back in the chair. It was pleasant here. The windows over the bed were open to freshen the small cabin. Everything was wonderful except for her fears. She was terrified of Yellow Hal’s greed, but her surrender to Nathan’s urgent kisses frightened her more.
The sunlight flashed off something on the shelf. Rising, she picked up the box the Blindman had given her. She ran her finger along it gently. Not once when she had dreamed of putting Port Royal behind her had she considered never seeing the Blindman again. Only he had believed she could be more than she had been born to be. She had overheard her mother’s cousin suggesting she be sold to one of the brothels, where he believed she would inevitably end up. She would prove him wrong.
She opened the cracked cover of the book the Blindman had given her. A Bible! Why had he given her this? As she turned the first page, she knew.
To Kassy,
on your tenth birthday
Love, your grandmother
May 7, 1663
God bless and keep you always
This had been her mother’s. Kassy Mullins had been younger than Rory was now when she died in childbirth, so Rory had no memories of her mother. No fond recollections of soft touches and loving lullabies. Her fingers toyed with the pages. Odd that the Blindman had given the book to her after all this time and that he never had mentioned he had it.
She frowned as two pages stuck together. “Oh, my!” she whispered when she saw the psalms printed on the pages. Throwing the door open, she called, “Nathan!”
He waved from where he stood with a crewman by the prow. She fought to be patient, but it was impossible. When he came toward her, he put his hand on her cheek and tipped her face up to kiss her.
Pulling away, she gasped, “This isn’t the time, Nathan.”
He chuckled. “It’s always the time to kiss you.” He bent to whisper in her ear, “Why don’t you stop telling me no when you know your heart says yes?”
“Forget about kissing me!”
With a laugh, he swept her into his arms. She slapped his arm with the Bible.
“Rory, if you’re trying to knock some sense into me—”
“Will you please be serious for a moment?”
He placed his lips against her neck. “I thought I was.”
She held up the book. “I think I’ve found a clue to the next line of the poem.”
“Which section?”
She drew him into his quarters. “Not outside. I’m afraid of whatever it is flying away on the wind.”
“Fly away? Did a sea bird whisper the answer in your ear, Rory?”
“Do you want to find the treasure or not?”
Nathan’s smile vanished. She was not jesting with him. Could she have figured it out all alone? So quickly? He shoved his battered pride away. The poem had said the “blackbird of the dawn” would lead to the solution.
Looking into her glowing eyes, he curved his palm along her soft cheek. She was as intelligent as she was pretty. No other woman could have survived as she had in Port Royal. And now she was helping him obtain his dream.
Over his shoulder, he called, “Ernest, come here.”
He smiled again when he saw Rory sitting cross-legged on his bunk. There was still so much of the ragged lad about her. But she was unquestionably a woman. He sat beside her and inclined her mouth toward his. When she laughed, he asked, “What’s so amusing?”
“That you can think of anything but the Raven now.”
“You’d be surprised how often I think of this.” He enfolded her to him so her pliant breasts brushed his chest. Tasting her luscious skin, he ran his fingers through her hair. It sifted through his hands, teasing him to touch all of her. Her rapid breath scorched him.
Nathan released Rory and said, “Ernest, Rory thinks she has discovered something to help.”
Ernest’s eyes lit with excitement. “What?”
“Here.” Rory smiled and opened the book. “The Blindman gave me this. It’s my mother’s Bible. When I opened it, I found two pages stuck together. On one page is the Twenty-third Psalm.”
“‘The Lord is my shepherd,’” Nathan whispered, then grinned. “‘The shepherd’s tale!’”
He took the book and slipped his knife between the pages. They came apart with a snap. Several sheets of paper dropped to the floor.
Ernest bent to pick them up. Ignoring Nathan’s outstretched hand, he placed them in Rory’s lap.
“They’re addressed to Miss Rory,” he said quietly. “I think she should read them. These pages may not have anything to do with our search.”
“They must! They were with ‘the shepherd’s tale.’” Nathan relented with a frown. “At least read them aloud.”
Rory stared at the faded handwriting. “To the child of Captain Stuart Powell and Kassy Mullins.” Her heart cramped with uncertainty. Who had written this? One of them? The Blindman? Her fingers quivered as she unfolded the yellowed sheets cautiously, for they were crisp with age. She read aloud as fast as she could decipher the faint scrawl.
Dear Aurora Raven or Apollo Raven,
If you are reading this letter, my child, it means we have never met. Let me tell you there has never been a child whose coming is anticipated with as much joy as yours. I am sure your mother has told you that I loved her from the moment we met. I love you even now, my child.
I saw my beloved Kassy the first time in the marketplace on High Street. When I learned she was indentured and could not leave her master for four years, I bought her term to free her. Not once have I regretted that decision. As you know, our Kassy is saucy and wise and knew how to win this seaman’s heart. She is the love of my life, and since I have known her, my voyages on the Raven have lost their excitement.
I am writing you this letter, for I may not survive this return voyage to Port Royal. There is a man here who has been envious of the Raven’s success as a privateer. He will never get my treasure or my ship. All I have garnered is for you, my child. My enemy is not a wise man. I know where and when he will strike, for, fortunately for the brave crew of the Raven, there is only one place. I will make you a map to show you our route, but it will not pinpoint the spot where I will beach the Raven if it is necessary. That information I dare not leave in such an accessible place. You will have the answer if you look with the coral key. Kassy will explain when the time is right.
Good luck, my child. Remember that your father loved you.
“It’s signed ‘Stuart Powell, Captain of HMS Raven,’” Rory whispered as tears blinded her.
“Are you all right?” Nathan asked, stroking her arm. He smiled. “Maybe you’ll believe me now.”
“I was told he abandoned my mother. No one ever told me that he loved us.” Wiping her wet cheeks, she stared down at the page. Her father had taken the time to seek her out in the future.
“If your mother was anything like you, Powell couldn’t have helped loving her. No man could.”
“He loved us,” she repeated.
His lips twitched in an irreverent grin. “Be thankful you were born female, Rory. ‘Apollo Raven!’”
“Either way they planned that I would be the ‘blackbird of the dawn.’” She held out the page to Nathan. “This should help you find your king’s ransom.”
Unable to restrain his curiosity, Ernest asked, “Cap’n, is it a map?”
Nathan smiled. “Looks that way. Careful. It’s as brittle as a sundried piece of canvas.”
Ernest smoothed it on the table. His finger traced the map. “The Raven planned to go north around Cuba. There are several names of ships on it, as if they expected to try to capture specific galleons. Here is La Madre Maria and El Caballo del Oceano. There’s another, but I can’t make out the name. The writing is smudged and faded.”
“If the Raven captured just one of those ships, she’d have been heavy with booty by the time she got here.” Nathan pointed to where the Bahama Channel ran parallel with the north coast of Cuba. “Anywhere between there and Port Royal, she could have been ambushed and taken down.”
“But my father wrote he planned to beach the ship if there was trouble,” Rory said, squeezing between the table and the two men so she could see.
“There are hundreds of little cays along here.” Ernest rubbed his bald head. “Privateers keep some of their booty hidden from customs officials. Any of the cays between Cuba and Jamaica could have been Powell’s choice.”
Nathan frowned. “‘Seek the coral key if treasure you yearn to gain.’ Could it mean a coral island? Key. Cay. The pronunciation can be the same.”
“You know as much as me, Cap’n. I think we should solve each line in order. You have found Cap’n Powell’s ‘blackbird.’” He winked at Rory. “She led us to the ‘shepherd’s tale.’ Next we have to steer between the ‘low gods and Spain.’” Staring at the map, he mused, “Cap’n, in Havana I have an old friend named Padre Fernando. He might know something he’d be willing to share for a price.”
Nathan hesitated, then asked in a taut tone, “Is he trustworthy?”
“No, but if the Raven came through Havana, he’ll know. We need tell him only that Miss Rory is looking for her father, who sailed with the Raven. No one has to know her father was Cap’n Powell. He could have been one of the crew.”
For a long moment, Nathan did not reply. He looked at the map and then at Rory. She tried to guess what he was thinking, but his dark eyes were shuttered. She suspected he was as uneasy as she was with the idea of revealing even that much of the truth. Fear washed over her like a tempest’s icy wave. Yet they might have no choice. Although they had solved two lines of the riddle, they were no closer to finding the Raven. They must discover what “between the low gods and Spain” meant.
“Rory, would you be willing to do this?” Nathan asked, his voice still rigid. “It could be very dangerous.”
“I risked my life every night at Yellow Hal’s place.” She raised her chin. “My father wanted me to have this. I won’t let Yellow Hal have it!”
“He’s not the only one who would be tempted to do anything for this gold,” warned Ernest.
She met his grim expression calmly. “I know that.”
While Nathan and Ernest began plotting the swiftest course to Havana, Rory returned to sit on the bunk, once more unfolding the letter from her father. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what he had been like. More than once, the Blindman had told her she was exactly like her father—but now it pleased her.
She had found a father. And at the moment, she did not want to think what that discovery could cost her.
Six
The crew reacted with jubilation that the Vengeance was going to Havana in hopes of solving the rest of the poem. The ship needed no wind to hurry it on its way, for it floated on the dreams of men who saw gold within their grasp.
When the sun had sunk into the sea to the cheers of many tankards of rum lifted high, moonlight streaked the deck. The wind tugged fitfully against the sails as foam topped each jeweled wave.
Rory noticed Nathan standing alone on the deck. She could not forget how his eyes had lost their gleam when Ernest had mentioned that any information his friend might have would have to be bought. Crossing to where he stood by the railing, she said, “I thought you’d be celebrating with the others.”
He put out his arm and brought her into his embrace. “What a day this has been for you!” He kissed the tip of her nose. “How many men are wise enough to take such precautions to protect their child?”
“It would have been different if my mother had lived.”
He nodded. “Very different, but then I might not have met you. That would have been very unfortunate.”
When she clasped her hands behind his head, he bent to kiss her. The gentle pressure became a desire she could barely govern. The firm lines of his body, so close to hers, suggested delights she once could not have imagined. Now she wanted to sample them. As his mouth moved along her neck, she moaned with soft passion.
“This is where you belong.” His breath fired the blaze within her.
“This is where I belong.”
He laughed. “I think that may be the first time you’ve agreed with me twice in the same day.”
“Don’t expect it to become a habit.” She caressed his wind-scored cheek.
“I don’t.”
She flinched at his terse retort. “What’s wrong? Is it having to pay Ernest’s friend for information?”
Nathan sighed and looked north. He had waited so long for the moment when the poem would begin to unravel. So many times, he had imagined reaching the end of this quest and finding himself surrounded by gold. Then he would silence the memories of laughter that taunted him.
“Nathan?”
He almost did not turn to look at Rory. His breath caught when he did, for the moonlight stole the gold from her hair, burnishing it silver. With the wind pressing her gown back against her, he was treated to a view of the slender curves that haunted him even more painfully than the laughter that had followed him from Maryland. His hand fisted on the railing as he fought the need to explore each one of those curves. Had Powell guessed that his child would be as tempting as his gold?
He was sure he must be dreaming when she whispered in the voice that filled his fantasies, “Can I speak to you in the cabin?”
Not trusting his own voice, he nodded. He let her lead the way to the cabin, his gaze held by the gentle sway of her skirts. He closed the door and relit the candle in the lamp. He stared as she reached into her bodice. She pulled the bag of coins out and handed it to him. For a pair of heartbeats, he stared at it.
“There’s almost a score of gold pieces in there,” she whispered.
He shook himself, trying to escape from the mesh of desire she had spun around him without a single word. Opening the bag, he poured the coins out across his palm.