Once Upon a Midnight Sea

by Ava Bradley

  Ticklish pain invaded his eyes as his pupils reacted to the sunlight. He blinked several times, forcing himself to endure. Yes! It was another ship, but he couldn't make out its name.

  He turned and looked around his cabin. Perhaps he could force the portal open and wave a pillow linen as a flag. Fear made him reconsider. Charles Weiss had been unbelievably cruel, as though he enjoyed hurting people. Edmund was afraid what he would do next. He was already in enough pain.

  His eyes caught John Lock's bottle of Parson's itch powder. He scrambled back to the bunks and began pulling open drawers until he found what he sought; a pencil nub.

  Edmund tore the back page out of the worn leather bible. "Dear Lord, forgive me for this offense."

  He hastily scribbled out a note, grateful his hand had not become as feeble as the rest of his body and he still possessed his elegant penmanship.

  Edmund Montague held captive aboard Windfall by Charles and Preston Weiss. All aboard are dangerous. Send help.

  He stopped and considered the date. It must be June 30, or even July now. He closed his eyes and concentrated until his head hurt. Yes, it had been seventeen days since he'd been taken from the sanitarium.

  He'd missed Adriana's birthday. A spike of longing seized his heart. If he didn't figure a way to save himself, he would never see her again.

  Edmund poured out the remaining powder and wiped the inside of the bottle clean with the corner of his blanket. He placed the note inside and forced the cork in as tightly as he could, then took extra care to seal the bottle neck with candle wax.

  He returned to the window and peered out. It was Tigress sitting across the bay. Blessed be, luck still shined on him! Bromley Ranklin and his son Bernard were good men.

  He kissed the bottle, hoping his luck would last a little longer, and gently pushed it through the tiny portal window.

  * * *

  The afternoon sun sank so low it peered under the thatched roof of the cabana bar, burning Charles' back. He hated this time of day in the Caribbean, when the sticky heat lingered as though it were still high-noon but the sun hung at such an angle as to creep under every tree and canopy to glare in the eyes. It didn't fade here, either. No, the sun was just as bright at six in the evening as it was at two.

  Charles grimaced as the thatched stool snagged at his polished cotton trousers. "Bourbon, if you please. Two fingers."

  A million tiny birds crowded the trees, peeping incessantly. It was enough to drive a man mad. A brightly colored parrot behind the bar let out a screech shrill enough to kill all the barnacles dead off a ship's hull. Blast, but he hated the tropics.

  When he got his hands on Adriana, he intended to show her how angry he was she'd forced him to make this trip. Windfall was by far the most luxurious ship he'd ever stepped aboard, but it was still just a ship, and he hated ocean travel.

  The sweaty proprietor brought him a crudely crafted glass filled with what might be considered Bourbon in the lowliest hovels of Boston.

  A high breeze wafted through the palms, loud and uncivilized and the flock of birds increased their rattle. Everything here was so...rough. How he longed for the sophisticated refinement of New York. He hadn't been to his family's Adirondack estate in almost a year.

  At the far end of the makeshift bar, Tigress's grizzled captain watched him with an unnervingly steady gaze.

  "Go check on the supplies," the man ordered his companion without removing his gaze from Charles.

  "The natives are loading them up just fine. They know what they're doing."

  The captain repeated his order, this time in a menacing tone, finally turning a glare on the man. With a sigh, his deckhand slugged back his drink and left.

  "You lookin' for the Lady Luck, is ya?"

  Charles bristled, and guarded himself.

  "Heard you talkin' to Ranklin this morning."

  "What of it?"

  "How much is it worth to you to know where she's headed?"

  As he turned on the stool, Charles' pants caught again. "She was here?" He knew it!

  Threads popped as he rose. He made his way over, making certain to keep his demeanor casual.

  "Could be." Tigress's captain was a seamy type Charles instantly disliked. Yet conveniently, such types could always be bought.

  "I have twelve pounds and a few shilling."

  The captain laughed a raspy chortle and turned his attention to the bird behind the bar. He slowly sipped his drink as if he had not a care in the world. "Fifty pounds."

  "Good God, man, you are quite mad!" Charles' anger tightened, but held himself carefully in check.

  The captain laughed again, a nauseating rattle. "I know where she's headed. But then again, I ain't the one who needs to know, am I?"

  "Perhaps someone else here can tell me for a more affordable price."

  "No one else saw her direction when she pulled out."

  "Perhaps I'll just ask around."

  "Well be that now," the captain said, mocking him with an exaggerated accent. "You do that."

  Charles growled as he removed his billfold. "For God's sake. This is robbery."

  "The price just went up. You got to buy me another drink, too."

  "Gah! Bartender." He jabbed a finger at the crudely melted glass that served as a tumbler.

  Charles handed over the money. Tigress's captain smiled a blackened grin as he tucked it into his lapel. "The little lady told Ranklin she couldn't take him to Rio on account of she was headed home, by way of Florida. But when she set out..."

  "Yes, yes, when she set out?" He waved his hand to demonstrate his dwindling patience.

  "She turned southeast."

  "When?"

  The captain shrugged. "Don't rightly remember."

  In truth, that would simply cost more. But Charles had no more money with him. "How long have you been here?" he asked in a level tone.

  "Nine days." The captain looked at the bottom of his glass, then downed the remainder. "Nine miserable days."

  Charles considered his newly learned information carefully. "South, eh. What does that mean to me?"

  "Ya ain't a sailor, is ya?"

  "How very observant of you." Charles blew an angry breath through his nostrils. "Tell me why this is significant."

  "Awe, hell. I'll give ya this one for free. If'n she was heading back to the states, she would turn north and let the wind do most of the work. If'n she's headed south, she'd have to tack east and fight the current. Seems to me she'd only do that if she's not really heading north. Of course, I'm not as smart as ya high-borns, now, am I?"

  "Why would Adriana be heading south?" He spoke the question aloud, but it was more to himself than this brittle old lobster.

  The captain narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to find her, anyway?"

  "Just never you mind that." He tucked his billfold back into his waistcoat. "Doyle, ready the boat. We're going back to the ship."

  Charles sat in the rear of the shore boat as his man rowed them back to Windfall.

  Adriana had certainly set out as fast and far as possible to escape him. She must have learned the truth about R.L.W. Steel. But what was she doing in the Windward Islands? There were so many places she could run...

  Yet he'd anticipated them all. Charles bit down on a bitter grimace. Little Miss Adriana was smart. She knew he would look for her in every one of the posh havens her father owned. That was precisely why she didn't go to Nova Scotia or New Orleans.

  She must be headed around the cape, perhaps to San Diego or San Francisco. She didn't risk heading through the gulf to Galveston to catch a train because she suspected he'd be looking for her in Louisiana.

  The little witch was smart, but not smart enough. When he got his hands on her...

  Something caught Charles' attention. The lagoon was littered with rubbish from the storm, but this looked different. Purposeful.

  It appeared to be...yes, a bottle bobbed with the tide, headed straight for the shore boat. As his lazy deckhand
rowed as slowly as if he were dead, Charles reached over and snatched it up.

  It was an old bottle of Parson's itch powder, but its neck had been sealed with wax. Charles picked the wax away and pulled out the cork. He withdrew the paper inside and read it.

  What he discovered should have made his anger boil hotter, but his mood had improved with the news of Lady Luck's whereabouts.

  "What is it?" Preston asked as Charles stepped on deck earlier than expected. "Where are the supplies? We need that tiller block. Until we repair the gears, our navigational capabilities are impaired."

  "Ranklin lied, Lady Luck was here. She set out due south, possibly several days ago. If we do not leave immediately, we won't catch her." He handed his brother the note from the bottle and started below. "Put Montague on half rations."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As he came aroused, Christian recognized subtle sounds he'd learned while on Lady Luck. Water pushed up by the bow splashed down on the ocean's surface with an urgent rhythm. The sails snapped crisply against the pull of the wind. Lady Luck didn't just rock, she lunged. They were moving, and at a strong pace.

  But where?

  He opened his eyes and blinked away grainy dryness. Adriana sat beside the bed. She reached for a cup on a tray beside the bed, and froze when she saw him. Her eyes glistened as she smiled. "Merciful heavens, you're awake."

  He tried to speak, but managed only a hoarse whisper.

  "Here, drink." She brought the cup to his lips. Whatever it was, it tasted awful, yet distantly familiar.

  "I presume this was your way of getting out of your share of the work," she said lightly.

  "Wh- what happened?"

  "You were sick. Malaria, we think. A viable excuse, I suppose."

  "How charitable of you." He cleared his throat. "I'll try not to let it happen again." He struggled to a sitting position, but thought better of it when his head began to spin. His limbs were so heavy for a moment he thought his feet were bound. He glanced down. No chains, he was happy to discover.

  "I deduce that I am lucky I didn't awaken in prison."

  "You can thank Mrs. Ling that you awakened at all." The happiness her expression possessed vanished. She stood and smoothed down her dress. "You are a thief, Mr. De la Croix. You lie, cheat and steal. It is understandable that you expect those around you to be similarly untrustworthy. But I thought I had proven I am better than that."

  He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pounding in his head. "Perhaps we could fight later. I am not quite up to a sparring match as of yet."

  She sniffed indignantly. "Finish your tea. I'll send Mrs. Ling down to check on you."

  "Are those voices I hear?" Henri's grizzled face peered through the door and brightened at the sight of him. "Bein joué! We feared you were done for."

  "Mr. Dupree," Adriana said stiffly. "I shall take my turn at the helm." She didn't glance back at him as she stalked past Henri. What could he have possibly done, while unconscious, to upset her this time? He didn't have the energy to fret over it, and Henri's genuine smile made his mood soar.

  "Ye of little faith." Christian grinned back. "Truth be known, I was a little worried myself."

  "Ah, I knew you'd pull through. You're as strong as your father."

  "She doesn't seem happy about it," Christian said when Adriana was out of earshot. "I suppose I made her angry by falling ill."

  Henri made a face, but beneath it his happiness was still evident. "Don't you believe it. Why, she never left your side until we set sail from Barbados, and then only to take her turn at the helm."

  "Bon Dieu. How long has it been?"

  "Seven days. We were anchored at Barbados for three days, then Adriana decided to continue."

  Continue? Adriana decided that? "Where are we?"

  "We reach St. Laurent day after tomorrow."

  Two days! He could hardly believe they were only two days away from the island prison where his father had spent the last twenty years of his life.

  "Adriana sat beside me?" His mouth suddenly went dry. He remembered the night he'd awakened to find her sleeping beside him. A hot wave of dizziness swept over him.

  "How you feel this morning?" Mrs. Ling's bright face appeared beside Henri's. "My tea work very good. You much better today."

  "I am told I have you to thank for my very life," he said. Her smile grew impossibly wide.

  He could not get over the strange euphoria gripping him. Adriana had sat by his bedside. She did care whether he lived or died.

  "Drink more tea. Malaria gone, but you still weak."

  "Yes, I am still weak," he agreed as another spell of dizziness gripped him. "But before I drink any more tea, I absolutely must use the privy."

  They both laughed and Christian joined in, elated by the simple fact that he had cheated death yet again.

  * * *

  Adriana sat on the stern bench behind the wheel and placed her shaking hands in her lap. Relief swelled inside her until she had to cover her mouth to hold back the overwhelming joy bursting out of her. Christian was alive, and he was going to be fine. He was going to finish this quest and reunite with his father.

  For a few terrifying days, she'd worried that wasn't going to happen.

  "Christian is awake?" Ollie asked. "You look happy."

  She stood and took the wheel. "Go. He wants to see you."

  His face brightened and Ollie darted off, leaving her alone on deck. She stared across the glimmering azure sea that looked a thousand times more beautiful today. Chauncy trotted up, tongue lolling with happy doggy glee, as if he, too, understood Christian was out of danger.

  She scooped up her little dog and hugged him to her chest. "He's going to be just fine," she whispered, and this time she allowed the tears welling in her eyes to grow and fall. A quick cry was good for the soul.

  Only after she'd wiped them away did she realize that those tears were selfish. She was happy he was here, hers alone while they were on this ship. She could still fantasize about a different life, one in which she wasn't destined to marry Preston Weiss, but where her future was spent with Christian, instead.

  * * *

  Henri let the anchor fall and checked it was secure. They moored off a shoal near the coast, but far enough from the township that their lamps below decks would be undetectable by its people.

  "You going to be all right, boy?"

  Good grief, they were all treating him as if he were made of glass. Since awakening, he'd grown stronger by the minute.

  "Fine," he called. "Enjoy your supper."

  Henri headed below for his meal, leaving Christian alone on deck. The sun had already set, now all that remained was a murky crimson band on the horizon.

  He stared off at it, trying to remember what sailors said about a red sky at night.

  Beware.

  The first lights of St. Laurent's evening glittered under that ominous sky. To the south-east, somewhere in the already blackness of night, three tiny islands sat only ten miles off the coast. Île St. Joseph, Île Royale, and Île du Diable.

  Devil's Island.

  On the journey down he'd wondered if his father stared up at the same stars in the sky that he did from Lady Luck's deck. His brush with Malaria had reminded him how fragile life was here. Now, he wondered if his father was even still alive. The letter in his pocket was almost two years old.

  He sensed more than heard Adriana move up beside him. He'd become so used to her presence, no, so comfortable in it, she felt like a source of energy when she was near. Already he felt stronger with her merely standing next to him.

  She leaned against the rail, silent in the gentle breeze. He didn't speak, content just to be near her.

  He looked down at the water. A strange, teeming cloud of brilliant green light swirled around the anchor's chain, just at the surface.

  "What is it?"

  Adriana sighed deeply. "It has many different names. Some say it is the souls of those lost at sea, looking for
a ship to take them home."

  Christian turned sideways her at the rail to look at her. "What do you believe?"

  "It is such a sad legend, I do not want to believe it. No one deserves to be lost forever."

  He sensed a deeper meaning in her explanation. "Soon my father will be rescued, back where he belongs."

  "And what then?" Her eyes glistened in the wane light. "What will you do with your life?"

  "I will survive, as I always have." He stepped closer, softening the hard tone he'd not intended. "I cannot think of what happens next week, next month, or next year. No man knows what his future will hold, he can only go on as he knows."

  "Is that what you will do? Go on as you know?"

  She wanted to know if he would still be a jewel thief. He glanced down at the magical swirling light in the water, unable to answer. "What about you? You shall go on and marry that chubby little man, Preston Weiss? Back to your safe, diffident life of parties and fine dresses and expensive baubles?"

  "I'm afraid there is no escaping my fate. But it is not my future that is in question." Adriana took a step back and turned back to the sea. "Nor do I wish to speak of it."

  "Is it really so bleak that you cannot bear to imagine it? You have everything a person could want, and more."

  "No." She shook her head, but didn't lift her eyes to meet his. "You do not know about my life."

  "Then tell me."

  She clenched her jaw, hesitating a moment. Several leaping fish splashed at the surface, their luminescent scales glinting in the pale light of a quarter moon. Her eyes rose to follow, then just as quickly were hidden under the sweep of her long lashes.

  "I am an heiress, yes, but truly nothing is mine, not even the privilege of choice. A woman's future is chosen for her. Our entire lives, for that matter. Perhaps you spend your life running from the law, but until you are caught, at least you are free. I have never been free, except when I am aboard this ship, sailing the wide open seas with no one to restrain me."