by Connie Mason
Captain Tremaine cleared his throat nervously. “As you know, control of the Baratarian Straits is crucial if we are to capture New Orleans. They offer an important approach to that city. Your cooperation will insure our success.”
Then Jean shocked the captain into silence when he handed the documents to Marie. “What do you think, cherie?” he asked carelessly. “Should we allow the British ships into Barataria?”
Marie quickly scanned both documents. “Thirty thousand dollars is a lot of money, Jean,” she acknowledged, “but a mere pittance compared to the profits from your lucrative business in New Orleans with the Americans. The treasures you relieve the dons of now decorate the finest homes in New Orleans.”
“But remember the captaincy, Mr. Lafitte. You will be a respected member of the Royal Navy. No longer will you be a feared pirate.”
Jean tilted his head back and roared uproariously. “If you do not believe I am respected, ask any citizen of New Orleans about me. They will tell you that I am not only respected but revered.”
“Then you do not accept our offer?” asked Captain Tremaine stiffly.
“I did not say that,” Lafitte answered smoothly.
Gabby’s heart sank. Surely Lafitte would not join the English? But it sounded as if he was considering the offer. Her face was so serious that Marie nudged her under the table and whispered that she should not worry, Jean knew what he was doing.
“I will consider your country’s offer, Captain Tremaine,” Jean said expansively. “Where might I contact you when I decide?”
“You cannot contact me directly but the envoy I spoke of earlier will be in New Orleans. He has a house at number thirty Rue Dumaine and you can send word of your decision there.”
Shortly after that the Englishmen rowed back to their ship. Nothing more was said about them, or the documents that still lay on the table.
“ Merci, Gabby,” Jean said, using her first name, “for gracing our table with your beauty and charm.” Then he turned serious. “Marie explained to me why you do not wish to return to your husband and I am in total agreement. You may remain as our guest for as long as you like. Now that you are fully recovered from your ordeal at sea you may feel free to explore our little island. Go wherever you like. No one here will harm you.”
“ Merci, Captain Lafitte,” Gabby said gratefully. “I will stay only until I am certain my husband is no longer in New Orleans. Then I shall make arrangements for my future.”
The next morning the English ships were gone, only Lafitte’s fleet rode at anchor in the bay. After breakfast Marie took Gabby on a tour of her lover’s great house. It sprawled, but not without design, for Lafitte had planned it for comfort and entertaining. It was magnificent, surrounded by a long veranda that shaded against the summer sun and protected against winter winds. Heavy wooden shutters could be swung to protect its screened windows.
Opulence was the key; its richness a bit overdone with silver, tapestries, ornate furniture, gold statues, and priceless carpets. The kitchen contained every food imaginable and the cool wine cellar dug beneath the house contained brandy and wine from dozens of countries.
Sometimes alone but mostly accompanied by Marie, Gabby explored Barataria. The island itself was well fortified, although some of the battlements had been destroyed earlier by American Navy ships. She learned that there was a strict code of honor governing the people who lived there. Women had as much right as men. Although they were every hue from white to the darkest ebony, they were free to bed or wed whomever they chose. The white sand beach surrounding low hills were scattered haphazardly with shacks, overturned ships’ gigs, and long racks for drying meats and fish.
Most of the smugglers were rough men who looked and acted like the pirates they were. Although many of them eyed her covetously, none dared approach her, especially while in Marie’s company. Some of the women envied her position and she could feel their animosity directed toward her as she strode about the island.
Gabby learned from Marie that Lafitee was putting off the English while sending urgent letters to Governor Claiborne and General Jackson. Of late he was so preoccupied that he barely noticed her presence and more and more of his men began ogling her openly. She knew her time on Barataria must end soon.
One day, nearly a month after the English had come, Marie told her they would again have important guests for dinner that night. “Americans, this time,” Marie said. “Representatives of General Jackson himself. Maybe now they will believe Jean and accept his help.”
“Has he refused the British offer?” Gabby asked.
“Mon dieu!” Marie exclaimed. “He never even considered it. Besides the thirty thousand dollars and the captaincy they offered, the British wanted Jean’s pledge that he would not attack any Spanish ships. The second document from the Royal Navy carried a direct threat; help fight the Americans or Barataria would be destroyed by English ships. Jean was so angry it was all he could do to keep from throwing them off of Barataria.”
“Do you think they will attack if Jean sides with the Americans?” Gabby asked.
“It is a worry, for even now the English wait out there somewhere,” she said pointing beyond the bay. “But a bigger problem right now is that Jean’s men are still imprisoned in New Orleans and the Governor doesn’t even answer Jean’s letters. He is under a terrible strain. That is why he went directly to General Jackson. He was getting nowhere with Governor Claiborne and time is growing short.”
“Then General Jackson must consider his offer to help a serious one or he would not send his men to deal with Jean.”
“That’s what Jean hopes,” sighed Marie thoughtfully. “Jean may be a Frenchman, but above all he is a Louisianian and an American.”
Both women had taken great care with their appearance that evening. Gabby’s long, silvery locks and violet eyes were set off perfectly by a dress of tawny silk. Her creamy shoulders and tops of her breasts rose majestically above the deep décolletage. Marie’s dark beauty was enhanced by the green satin that molded her firm, young body like a second skin. Jean’s black eyes shone appreciatively as he introduced them to the two young men who had already arrived and were in deep discussion with him. They spoke in English, as had the British officers, a language Gabby had learned to speak fluently in the convent. Jean used only her first name when she was introduced because she had asked him not to divulge her last name in the event that these men might be acquainted with Philippe.
The older of the two men. Captain Robert Stone, seemed unable to tear his eyes from Gabby from the moment they were introduced. The younger man, Lieutenant Peter Gray, eyed her speculatively but was friendly enough with his greeting. Upon hearing her name, a glance passed between both men, causing a chill of apprehension to run down her spine.
As the meal progressed, Gabby became more and more uncomfortable as Captain Stone’s vivid blue eyes continued to devour her. Even Marie noticed his preoccupation with Gabby and arched her delicate eyebrows when she caught Gabby’s glance. Gabby studied the captain through lowered lids while Jean had momentarily captured his full attention. His face seemed so boyish and open compared to Philippe’s brooding countenance. He was nearly as tall and rugged with a magnificent physique but there the comparison ended. His unruly blond hair had a way of falling into his guileless eyes whenever he moved his head in a certain way. His wide, boyish grin was completely disarming and Gabby blushed profusely whenever it was directed at her, which was quite often. In no way was he threatening, his eyes gentle. Try as she might, she could not picture him as a soldier for he hadn’t the looks of a killer.
Lieutenant Gray, though younger, appeared older. His gray eyes reminded her of Philippe’s and their flinty barrier she could never penetrate. He appeared wise beyond his years and instinctively she knew he would encounter no difficulty killing. Gabby shivered whenever his gaze fell on her. He looked on her not as a desirable woman but as a marketable commodity. He made her extremely nervous and she was glad when the mea
l ended and Jean took the men into his study to discuss business over brandy and cigars. A courtesy he did not extend to the English. Gabby did not linger to talk with Marie, but went directly to her own room.
Once alone, Gabby brooded for what seemed like hours over the look the Americans exchanged when she had been introduced to them and the speculative gleam in Lieutenant Gray’s eyes. What did it mean? Questions ran haphazardly through her mind. Was Philippe still in New Orleans after all this time and did he believe her still alive despite finding no trace of her? During her endless pacing she could not help but glance out the windows to the bay; the sparkling water, the shimmering moonlight, the softly scented breeze mysteriously beckoning her. Pulling a robe over her nightclothes she quietly let herself out of the house and descended the veranda steps. All was still and Gabby knew Jean and the Americans must have long since concluded their business and gone to bed. The oyster shell path crunched under her slippered feet as she headed toward the white sand beaches. She passed a sentry but he did not stop her. She recognized him as one of the men who had a wife and family on Barataria.
Finally she stood just beyond a line of palm trees along the perimeter of the beach. The moon was high and each ship anchored in the bay was clearly outlined. It was an impressive sight, one Gabby would long remember. Almost at the same time she heard the crunch of a footfall behind her and a voice saying, “A beautiful sight, Mademoiselle Gabrielle.” Gabby started violently but the softly drawled words fell pleasantly on her ears setting her immediately at ease. She much preferred these Americans’ English to the harsh, clipped tones of the British. And for some reason she did not fear Captain Stone’s presence.
“Oui,” Gabby answered dreamily as she gazed out to sea, “lovely.”
“I’m not talking about the scenery,” he whispered softly. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck and was disturbed. But he made no move to touch her.
“Please, Captain,” she demurred, wishing he would not continue with such talk.
“I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but I could not help but make that observation. You are the loveliest creature I have ever seen.”
Gabby was glad the darkness concealed the crimson staining her checks. His voice was so sincere, so intense that she knew he really meant it and was not accustomed to throwing compliments around impulsively. She smiled in spite of herself and was happy it was Captain Stone and not Lieutenant Gray who had found her alone on the beach.
“I see you, too, could not sleep,” she said to cover her embarrassment.
“The balmy night drove me from my room,” the captain admitted. “Now I’m grateful to fate for aiming my steps in this direction.”
“Is your ship out there?” Gabby asked, nodding at the sheltered bay.
“No, we came down from New Orleans by pirogue. Dominique You guided us here.”
“How long will you stay?”
“That hasn’t been decided yet, but probably no longer than a fortnight. Lieutenant Gray and I have been commissioned by General Jackson to inspect the island and its battlements as well as the effectiveness of Lafitte’s fleet should we decide to accept his help. After I am satisfied with his sincerity to aid us I will make my report to the general.”
Gabby began walking along the beach and Captain Stone paced his steps to her, taking it for granted that his company was welcomed. They walked side by side, enjoying the silence, the night, and their companionship. Before long Gabby turned and they returned their steps back to the house where they parted after a softly murmured, “Goodnight.”
During the following days, no matter how many hours Captain Stone was closeted with Lafitte and Lieutenant Gray, he still managed to find time for Gabby. Usually it was during the late hours of the night when they strolled the beach together. Neither Jean nor Marie failed to notice the growing friendship between them, but did not question her actions. She was their guest and they would not think of limiting her freedom. On Barataria, each was free to choose for themselves and she was no different.
One night Gabby was occupying her usual place beneath the palm trees waiting for Captain Stone when she heard a familiar crunch on the oyster shell path. With a welcoming smile she turned and was shocked to see Lieutenant Gray coming down the path instead of the captain. “What are you doing here?” she blurted out.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked pointedly. “A lovely evening for a tryst, Madame St. Cyr. I wondered what Captain Stone found so intriguing on the beach at this time of night and now I know.”
Gabby blanched, the use of her full name stunning her. To cover her confusion, she said with as much contempt as she could muster, “You are rude, Lieutenant Gray!” Then she turned on her heel.
“Not so fast, Madame St. Cyr,” he said silkily as he grasped her arm. “You’re not fooling anyone. Both Captain Stone and myself know who you are. Your husband had your description circulated all over New Orleans. What would he do if he found his wife living with a group of dirty smugglers and pirates and carrying on with another man?”
“My life is none of your concern,” she retorted hotly. She was deeply hurt that Captain Stone had not told her that he was aware of her identity.
“I’m making it my concern,” Lieutenant Gray countered as he ran a hand insinuatingly down her arm. Gabby shivered. “Your husband must place great value upon you. He has offered a five thousand dollar reward to anyone who brings him information concerning your whereabouts or proof of your death. What I’d like to know,” he asked thoughtfully, “is why you choose to let him believe you are dead? Surely a loving wife would fly swiftly back to her husband. It is obvious you are not being held against your will.” His eyes narrowed cunningly and his grip tightened on her arm.
Gabby cried out, alarm creasing her lovely features. What was he saying? Philippe wanted her back enough to offer a reward? She had been so certain he would be gone from New Orleans by now, but if what Lieutenant Gray said was true, then he had no intention of leaving before learning what had happened to her or gave her up for dead.
“I intend to collect that five thousand dollars, Madame St. Cyr, and I have no desire to share it with Captain Stone.”
“Did I hear my name?” Captain Stone had come quietly up behind them and sized up the situation in one glance. Immediately, Lieutenant Gray released Gabby and stepped back.
“I just informed Mademoiselle Gabrielle that we are aware of her identity and would see that she is safely returned to her husband,” Lieutenant Gray proffered.
“Did you have to manhandle her?” demanded Captain Stone when he saw Gabby rubbing her bruised arm.
“I’m sorry,” apologized the lieutenant with mock contriteness. “I guess I became excited thinking how happy St. Cyr would be to learn his wife is alive and well.”
“Leave us,” Captain Stone ordered. “I will speak with Mademoiselle… with Madame St. Cyr.” All the while they spoke Gabby remained silent. How far could she trust Captain Stone? she wondered. Why hadn’t he confronted her before now? Did he, too, want the reward offered by Philippe?
“Are you hurt?” Captain Stone asked anxiously after the lieutenant’s retreating figure disappeared through the trees.
“I… I… he did not hurt me,” she answered hesitantly.
“Gabrielle… Gabby,” he said softly as he drew her into her arms. Gabby stiffened but did not resist.
“Why, Captain Stone? Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was before this? Did you plan on dragging me back to my husband after you had gained my confidence?”
“At first I thought to wait and see if you would confide in me.”
“Captain Stone…”
“My name is Rob.”
“Rob, then,” she agreed. “Just tell me if you intend to collect the reward offered by my husband. It is a great deal of money. More than a captain in the army would make I am sure.”
“From the first I had no intention of informing your husband that you are on Barataria. I know you must h
ave a very good reason for not returning to him. And as I came to know you I realized that I didn’t care if you never returned to him. I find you to be a beautiful, warm-hearted woman who would not run from her husband without good reason.” His show of concern was so different from Philippe’s arrogant disregard; and yet, Rob seemed such a boy compared to Philippe.
“I love you, Gabby,” confessed Rob, his sincerity warming Gabby’s heart.
“Captain Stone…Rob… you don’t know what you are saying! You do not really know me,” Gabby protested as she gently disengaged herself from his embrace.
“I know all I need to know about you.”
“I am a married woman.”
“Yes, but one who obviously docs not love her husband.” Rob said with conviction. He pulled her into the circle of his arms once more. “Gabby, darling, come back to New Orleans with me.”
“Rob, I can’t!” Gabby protested. “Philippe will find me.”
“He will find you here, also. You can be certain that Lieutenant Gray will go directly to him the minute we are back in the city. But if I leave Barataria before the lieutenant perhaps I can arrange for you to leave with me without his knowledge. By the time he informs your husband we will be long gone. Trust me, Gabby. I will take care of you.”
He was so good, so gentle that Gabby almost believed he could protect her from Philippe. But in the end she knew Rob would only be hurt. “No matter where you hide me, Philippe will find me. You don’t know him,” she despaired.
“Then I shall send you to my parents in South Carolina, I will tell them that you are my wife and no one will ever doubt it.”
“But I can never be your wife!”
“To me you would be my wife and when the battle for New Orleans is over we will live in South Carolina as husband and wife. St. Cyr would never think to look for you there.” In his own mind it was all settled.