“If that be so, what of the rest of you?” Devlin retorted in frustration. “I’m not the only pirate on the seas. I may be the best of the lot, but I’m far from the worst. And I sure as hell never set out to be one in the first place. If not for Captain Swift and his band of cutthroats, I’d be a common, law-abiding carpenter now, probably in business with my uncle, with a wife and six little whelps tagging about my coattails. Which, upon reflection, would not be so bad, most especially in comparison to my current, lamentable circumstance.
“But hearth and home were not to be my fate, were they? Nay, not with Swift roaming the seas back then. ’Twas he who attacked the ship carryin’ me to the colonies. ’Twas he who dragged me, kicking and screaming, into this brigands’ business.”
“Aye,” Nate agreed solemnly. “Still, ’twas better than gettin’ yer gullet slit.”
“Better a phantom pirate at the age of seven and twenty than fish bait at sixteen?” Devlin gave a woeful shake of his shaggy blond head. “I don’t know, Nate. If I’d guessed it would come to this, perhaps I’d have chosen a swift death eleven years past, when Swift first landed me in his grubby clutches.” He lifted his tankard and drained it, then thumped it atop the desk and reached for the small keg of rum nearby, intent upon pouring himself another drink.
Nate swore softly. “Damn, Dev! Do ye have the foggiest notion how dis—discomf—disturbin’ it is to see mugs and kegs raise themselves into thin air? T’ sit here and talk to ye, and hear ye, and watch things float about as they’re doin’? Sweet Jesus! ’Tis like bein’ caught up in a walkin’ nightmare!”
“Then I wish to God we’d both awaken, because I’m trapped square in the center of it with you. And as long as we’re wishin’ for the impossible, I’d like to wake up back in England and find myself a beardless youth again, with Mother baking hot tarts and Father teaching me how to plane cabinet doors to fit properly.”
“Ye can’t bring the dead back to life, Dev. They’re gone, both of ’em victims of the cholera the very month ye sailed for the colonies. Ye told me yerself, ’tis the reason they sent ye on ahead to live with yer uncle, so ye wouldn’t catch the plague.”
“Aye, and much good it did, too. My only consolation is that neither of them lived to see their only, beloved son turn sea robber, or to witness this day’s calamity.” He raised his eyes toward his friend. “You don’t suppose they have any way of knowing about this, do you, Nate?” he questioned hesitantly.
“Why ask me?” Nate grumbled. “I ain’t no expert on the habits of the dead. If anybody ought to know if they’re spinning in their graves, you should, since ye’re halfway there yerself. In body, if not in spirit.”
“Another crass remark like that, and I’m liable to forget we’re friends, or that you’re too drunk on your ear to think before lettin’ your mouth overload your arse. Then I’ll show you just how much life is left in this body of mine, and you won’t even see the punch coming! But I’ll damned well guarantee you’ll feel it!” Devlin growled.
“Sorry,” Nate mumbled, only slightly repentant, “but this whole business has me spooked.”
The two were silent for several minutes, each contemplating the situation. Finally Nate said, “Mayhap we’re not considering the benefits behind all this, Dev.”
With a shake of his head, Devlin frowned in confusion. “Benefits? Nate, old mate, your brains are in your cup, awash with rum. What is there to be gained by being invisible?”
For the first time that day, Nate grinned. “Well, I can name several things, now I’ve had time to think on it a bit. For one, ye never have to worry about gettin’ caught by the Spanish, or the French, or the King’s navy. How are they supposed to hang ye if they can’t see ye?” he pointed out. “Why, ye might also catch a few of our fellow pirates off their guard, perhaps even discover where Blackbeard has hidden all his treasure. ’Twould be an easy trick for ye to eavesdrop on the hairy buzzard, without his being any the wiser.”
He’d caught Devlin’s interest now, and with every word Nate uttered, the prospects of the future began to brighten. “Aye, and if we can convince the crew to go along with our plans, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t continue to captain the ship, is there? After all, I’ve proven to be a fair and ambitious leader these past five years, ever since you and I organized the mutiny and took the Gai Mer for ourselves.”
Nate nodded, remembering that time with fondness. “And stranded Swift and his bloody cohorts on that deserted island. That was a touch of genius, if I do say so meself.”
“Seeing it was your idea, of course,” Devlin conceded with a gruff laugh. “I’ve often wondered what became of that bunch. Odd that we’ve never heard or seen a thing of them since.”
“More’n likely, they all starved.”
Devlin gave an unconcerned shrug of his broad shoulders, though Nate could not see him do so. The quartermaster did, however, hear the enormous yawn that followed. Grinning, he taunted, “Tired, Dev? This is becomin’ quite a revelation. I always thought ghosts didn’t require sleep. For that matter, I wasn’t aware that they could get sloshed on rum, or feel the need to relieve themselves. I’d assumed they were above the more mundane urges of nature.” After a brief pause, he asked, “Pray tell me, what are you going to do when next you crave a woman in your bed, if that still be possible?”
A startled expression crossed Devlin’s face, a look that would have made his friend laugh had he seen it. “Leave it to you to point out my shortcomings, just as I was beginning to believe this would all work out in the end,” Devlin complained irritably.
“Oh, well, I suppose, for a portion of yer booty, I could be persuaded to lure a wench to yer bed for ye,” Nate offered, “as long as ye remembered to keep the lamp doused. We wouldn’t want the poor girl to run screamin’ into the night thinkin’ she’d bedded the Devil, or claimin’ to be the next Virgin Mary.”
Devlin snorted. “Ha! You wouldn’t recognize a virgin if you tripped over her, Mr. Hancock. And any doxy you brought to my bed would likely be diseased to her eyebrows. I’ll choose my own bed partners, thank you.”
“How?”
That was a question, among a multitude of others, which Devlin would ponder long into the night and for many a day to follow.
Chapter 3
A fortnight had passed since Dudley Finster had issued his demands; half of Eden’s alloted time now gone, while still she dithered over her reply. What was she to do? Passing a weary hand over her brow, she glared at the open account book on the desk before her, its columns of figures mocking her, and commanded herself to keep her mind on the task at hand. Perhaps by dealing with one concern at a time, thinking no further than the hour and day upon her, she could find some way out of this tangle. Or would that be tantamount to hiding her head in a basket until the inevitable snared her anyway, as it surely would?
Just now, her most pressing problem was attempting to make some sense of the monthly warehouse accounts, a chore she thoroughly detested. As adept as she was at reading and writing, and as much as she enjoyed both, her talents had never stretched to mathematics. Therefore, she had to rely heavily upon her manager’s ability in that area, though she had doubts as to whether John Tilton was any more skillful at it. Also, she found herself in the position of having to continually bow to his advice about the operation of the warehouse, and hope that he was both capable and honest in his dealings with her. It was not the most comfortable circumstance in which to find oneself, but there seemed little help for it, unless she wanted to turn her books over to Dudley Finster or his father each month for an additional fee, which she could not afford to do.
She was still struggling to make heads or tails of the accounts when the bell above the office door chimed, announcing the arrival of three men. As she glanced up from her work, Eden’s first reaction was one of dismay. By their clothing, it was obvious that they were seamen. It was also obvious to her, since she’d lived in Charles Town all her life and encountered a number of their s
ort, that they were pirates. The big, handsome fellow in the center wore a red sash about his waist and a gold hoop in his left earlobe, while the man on his left sported an eyepatch, and the one on his right a gold tooth. All were heavily armed, bearing pistols and cutlasses.
For all their fierce appearance, Eden read no immediate threat in their faces—that being no guarantee of safety, of course. Even as fingers of fear rippled through her, despair battled with fright. She needed more trouble like she needed an extra eye in the center of her forehead. And this motley band undoubtedly meant trouble.
In the past, Charles Town residents and businessmen had readily dealt with pirates, glad not only for the increased trade, but also for merchandise the brigands brought into port, goods not always available through ordinary means. In more recent days, however, tariffs and restrictions on imported items had been eased, and the town was thriving without the stolen booty. Indeed, most citizens now considered the pirates more of a nuisance than a benefit, more hindrance than help to legitimate commerce. Not only did they attack lawful trading vessels which were bound into and out of the Carolinas, but when in town they caused quite a disturbance—stealing, whoring, and drinking till all hours, destroying property and generally terrorizing innocent folk.
In the last months, the attitude of the community had undergone an about-face. The citizens were determined to rid themselves of this riffraff. Though not yet a crime, doing business with pirates was severely frowned upon. On the other hand, refusing to do so often brought swift retribution from the angry sea robbers.
Which put Eden in a pickle.
With much trepidation, she swallowed the lump in her throat, dredged up a polite smile, and asked weakly, “How may I help you, sirs?”
The fellow with the gold tooth answered. “We’ve just put into port, and are lookin’ for a place to store our cargo, ma’am. Is the owner about? We’d like to discuss arrangements for transferrin’ it to yer warehouse.” Thinking she might have found a way out of her predicament, Eden countered, “Have you dealt with us in the past? We’re taking no new customers at the moment.”
The man frowned and tossed a quick glance at the pirate in the center, who grunted softly, leaving the first man to reply. “Aye. We’ve put goods here b’fore, I guess.”
“Don’t you know?” Eden questioned.
“If the cap’n says we did, then we did,” Gold Tooth told her gruffly. “He ain’t a liar.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that he was,” Eden said, nervously licking her suddenly dry lips. “Merely that I need a name in order to check our records.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose it’d be listed under ... uh ...” He hesitated, seemingly unsure how to reply until Red Sash growled the answer into his ear. “It’d be under Kane, ma’am. Captain Devlin Kane, of the Gai Mer.”
“And when might you have stored goods here last?” she persisted. “To facilitate locating the entry in the registry.”
“Uh ..After again consulting with Red Sash, Gold Tooth blurted. “Three years past.”
There was nothing for it but to play along and make a show of finding the old records. Eden was half out of her chair when the bell tinkled once more. Ridiculously grateful for the timely interruption, she turned her gaze to the new arrival, only to find herself faced with the equally unwelcome sight of Dudley Finster.
The accountant looked from her to the pirates and back again, his thin nostrils pinching together as if he’d suddenly smelled something foul. “Might I speak with you, Miss Winters?” he requested archly.
Feeling as if she were caught between the Devil and the deep, Eden nodded. “Sirs, if you will excuse me for just a moment, I will attend to this gentleman and be back straightaway. Or perhaps you would care to talk with our manager in my stead? He is, I must admit, more capable of advising you than I.”
Before their designated speaker could reply, Red Sash nudged him and gave a sharp shake of his head. “Nay, ma’am. We’ll wait fer ye,” Gold Tooth told her.
Within the crowded confines of the tiny warehouse office, there was little chance of conducting a private conversation. So, edging past her potential customers, Eden motioned Dudley to precede her outside. Aware that she was leaving her cash box behind, in an unlocked drawer of her desk, she intentionally left the door ajar, hoping this would deter the pirates from stealing her pitifully small funds.
Once outside, she faced Finster with a stern countenance. “What brings you here in the middle of my workday, Mr. Finster?”
“Why, I’ve come to receive your answer to my request for your hand, of course.”
“My time is not yet up,” she reminded him sharply. “I’ve two weeks before the limit you have set for me. A fortnight more in which to repay the debt Papa unwittingly bequeathed to me.”
He favored her with a tight smile. “Why delay, my dear? Have you any other recourse than to accept my offer of marriage and thus cancel the loan?”
Both knew she didn’t unless some rich, heretofore unknown relative appeared suddenly out of the blue.
“Consider how pleased I would be if you were to accede now, rather than make it seem as if I have forced you into becoming my bride,” Finster continued. “Our life together would begin on a much more favorable note, and I would be more inclined to be a kind and generous spouse.”
“You will have my answer in two weeks, Mr. Finster,” she insisted, standing her ground. “I care not if it displeases you. And it remains to be seen whether or not I become your wife. Forfeiting the business would not immediately put me or my mother in the poorhouse, or send me flying into your waiting arms for rescue.”
“Though matters are likely to end in the same way, after all is said and done, don’t you imagine?” He gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “Ah, well, have it your way, if you must. For now. Go attend to those two cutthroats awaiting you, but I might warn you to steer clear of doing business with them. Not only would the town assemblymen disapprove, but you might find yourself courting bodily harm—and as badly as I want you, I would balk at taking soiled goods to wife.”
Meanwhile, inside the office, Devlin and his men unrepentantly eavesdropped on the conversation between the proprietress of the warehouse and her would-be suitor.
“Would ye listen to that struttin’ fop?” Nate commented. “Actin’ fer all the world like some sort of king, browbeatin’ that poor woman into marryin’ him when ’tis plain she wouldn’t have him on a platter.”
“Not that she has much choice as I see it,” Arnie put in. “She looks a mite long in the tooth and too tall by far to be pickin’ and choosin’.”
Nate nodded. “Aye. An’ skinny as a pike, too. Do ye suppose she’s so bad off that she’s been starvin’ herself to save up the money to repay her loan?”
“What’s the matter with you two simpletons?” Devlin asked with a frown. “Have your eyes gone as dull as your brains? The lady may be tall, but not overmuch, particularly to my tastes. And while she could use a bit more weight on her bones, neither is she gaunt. Fact is, I rather fancy the way she looks, with that creamy skin and those lush lips. Why, I’ll wager when she lets her hair down, it ripples all the way to her waist, soft and brown and scented. And those big eyes. Now, I ask you, have you ever seen eyes that color before, like sun-dappled seas?”
“Oh, ho!” Nate crowed. With uncanny aim, given the fact that he could not see his target, he slammed an elbow into Devlin’s ribs. “Methinks our leader is smitten, Arnie. And with a spinster lady in dire need of rescuin’. Think ye that we might work something out here for him? Do ye reckon she’d consider beddin’ a man she can’t behold, rather than mate with that fuss-fidget who’s hot on her heels? I wonder how much that debt of hers amounts to, anyway? Why, if we all throwed in a sum, maybe we could offer her enough to meet it and buy her favors for our dear, nearly departed captain.”
“Belay the ill-fitting humor, Mr. Hancock,” Devlin snapped. “Spinster she might be, and well in need of aid, but ’tis clear she’
s a lady. So, hold a civil tongue in your head, if you please.”
Nate executed a smart salute and stifled a chuckle. “Aye, aye, sir!”
At this juncture Eden reentered the room. “Now, sirs,” she said, still trying to collect her scattered wits after the encounter with Finster, “perhaps we can conclude our business without further interruption. Where were we?”
“Ye were about to check yer records, ma’am,” Nate offered politely, though his eyes still held a twinkle of humor.
“So I was, though I doubt that will be necessary. You see, I have just recalled how filled the warehouse is at this time. I sincerely doubt we have space for any more goods.”
A quick conference was held between the three, whereupon Nate declared, “Beggin’ yer pardon, but we saw ourselves through the place afore we come to the office, and there appears to be plenty of room for our cargo.”
Eden’s face colored at being caught in such a baldfaced lie. “I see,” she murmured, chewing her lower lip. “Well then ...” she hedged.
Again, the center pirate whispered something to his spokesman. It proved more than Eden could tolerate after the morning she’d been through. To her own amazement, as well as that of the men before her, she blurted, “Why is it that your Captain Kane—I assume that’s who the fellow in the red sash is—cannot speak for himself? I know he’s not mute, for I can hear him muttering to you. Has he some aversion to dealing with a woman?”
All three pirates gaped at her in varying degrees of amazement. “Ye can see him?” Nate asked incredulously, while Devlin continued to stare at her with an expression betwixt hope and disbelief.
“Of course I can,” she said. “I’m neither nearsighted nor wall-eyed.”
“She can see me!” Devlin exclaimed softly. Then more excitedly, “Blow me down! The wench can detect me! I’m revived! Returned to my normal self once more!”
“Nay, yer not!” Nate corrected quickly, before Devlin’s hopes could rise too far, only to be dashed on rocky shoals. “Ye’re still a spirit, Dev. Neither Arnie nor I can behold ye. Ain’t that so, Arnie?”
Splendor Page 3