A Buccaneer at Heart

by Stephanie Laurens

  Then Aileen gave a small gasp; her eyes widened, and she looked at him. “I can’t make out the words, but that voice...”

  He listened—and heard what she had. “The man with the wonderful voice.”

  “Yes. The one in the slaver’s lair—that’s him. I’m certain of it.” She peeked out again, then drew back and met his eyes. “That means this is the same group of slavers—and that means that if they take any children, they’ll most likely take them to the same place, the same camp, doesn’t it?”

  Lips setting, he nodded. After a moment more of fruitless listening—they were just too far away to make out words—he leaned out and peered along the line of increasingly ramshackle dwellings straggling away to the east, hugging the shoreline until the sand ended and the jungle closed in. Quickly registering the direction of the breeze, he ducked back.

  Aileen looked questioningly at him.

  He turned back up the runnel, tugging her with him. “We can’t get physically closer, but the breeze is blowing from the northwest—if we move farther east, we might be able to hear more clearly.”

  They tacked eastward through the tiny lanes and chose the second runnel along to test his theory. They fetched up at the end. Keeping to the shadows, they strained their ears...

  “...so if you come with me and work hard, you’ll be able to make enough to move up the hill.”

  It was the man with the mesmerizing voice who was speaking. Robert adjusted his sword and shifted position so that he could peer past the end of a sagging porch. The man had hunkered down so that his head was level with, or even lower than, those of the children gathered around him.

  The man continued, “I don’t say as it’ll be easy, mind, but we’ve told you what we’re offering, and all you have to do is tote baskets back and forth, and you’ll be taken care of while you earn. Your friends who joined us earlier are all there, busily working and earning. And because things are going so well, we’re expanding the business, and we’ve space to put on five more of you older ones.” The man slowly rose to his full height. He surveyed the children with what outwardly seemed a genial smile. “Five only, mind—we don’t want to take too many. That would reduce the rate of pay to the others, you see?”

  One tallish girl raised her hand and called out, “Will we be able to send our coin back to our mas, then?”

  The man smiled, the picture of benevolence. “You’ll be able to bring it back yourselves on one of your break days.”

  Another girl frowned. “None o’ the others have come back yet—ain’t they had break days?”

  “Ah, well—we don’t force our workers to take break days, only if they want. Of course, you get paid for the days you work, so...” The man shrugged, but he was grinning, as if he was privy to some special secret. “Guess they’ve decided it’s better to work more and gain more to put aside before they come back.

  “So!” He clapped once, then he looked over the heads again and spread his hands. “Who’s up for joining us, heh?”

  Dozens of hands shot into the air.

  “Me!”

  “Me!”

  “Pick me!”

  “I’m stronger!”

  Jostling started among the children. The man held his hands out, waving at the group to calm. “Now, now. That won’t help. You know the drill. Line up, and let’s take a look at you.”

  Aileen was shocked to see how many children pushed and nudged themselves into a long line. “Good Lord! He’s like a pied piper.”

  Grimly, Robert nodded. “Good analogy. But this one uses his voice instead of a pipe.”

  “Just look at the other two.” Aileen glared at the other two slavers who were standing a step back from the chief procurer with huge grins wreathing their faces. “Pleased as punch, they are.”

  “Hmm.” Robert was studying the same sight. “That makes me suspect that the mine is rather hungry for workers—or at least the slavers are keen to snare some captives for it.”

  She glanced at him. “So you think they’re recruiting them to work in the illicit mine?”

  He nodded. “I think much of what he told them was the literal truth. That’s why he can be so convincing. And the truth disguises the lies—like the fact they’ll never receive any wage—and also the bits he leaves out, such as the fact the children who go will never be allowed to come back.”

  Aileen looked out at the children—at those lined up, all vying to prove their worth to the slavers. From this angle, she could see the naked hope in their faces—the desperation to seize an opportunity for betterment, for themselves and also their families.

  The pied piper made his first four selections rapidly—taller, stronger, older lads, perhaps twelve years old or more—but the final berth fell to a choice between a rather weedy boy or the tall girl who’d spoken.

  The girl was twelve at least, and sturdy and strong as well as tall for her age. But another younger mite with the same dishwater-blond hair clung to her hand.

  “Can I take her, too?” the tall girl pleaded. “She won’t be no trouble, I swear.”

  The pied piper pulled a regretful face and shook his head. “Sorry, luv, but it’s not worth me hide to allow her into the camp.” He glanced at the weedy boy, then looked back at her. “If you’ll leave her behind, you can come with us.” He shrugged. “Up to you.”

  The tall girl looked down at the little one. As if sensing what was coming, the younger one started shaking her head—at first slowly, but then faster as she clung to her older sister’s hand and started to wail, “No, no no, noooo!”

  The look on the older girl’s face as she looked down at her sister made Aileen’s heart constrict.

  Then the older girl looked at her friend, beside her. “Can you take her to Ma?”

  “You’re going?” the other girl asked. But she was already reaching for the mite.

  Her chin firming, the tall girl nodded. “Aye. Ma needs whatever I can bring home.”

  There was a world of weary, downtrodden despair in both the older girls’ faces.

  Aileen felt so sad for them. So sorry.

  She looked at the little mite, weeping and flailing as the second girl pulled her away.

  Aileen turned her attention to the slavers, and her anger flared and burned.

  Wisely, the pied piper and his cohorts had stood back and let the little drama play out without interfering.

  But as the tall girl turned away from her wailing sister and straightened her shoulders, the pied piper beamed again and waved her to the end of his line of soon-to-be captives.

  “Right, then!” He rubbed his palms together, then looked at the small crowd of children remaining. “Shall we have a bit of a cheer, then, for those lucky enough to be selected?”

  The children duly cheered as the pied piper turned and led his small troop of five off along the sand. The other two slavers fell in at the rear, turning back only to smile and wave at the children left behind.

  Aileen felt faintly nauseated. Robert gestured at her to draw back. Sliding deeper into the runnel, she mimicked his movements on the opposite side of the narrow space and put her back to the wall as, ten yards away, the pied piper led his smiling, yet already faintly nervous band along. Several of the children glanced back—at the life they were leaving.

  Unwittingly, possibly forever.

  Aileen held her position and waited while the other two slavers passed the end of the runnel and trudged farther along the sand.

  Robert’s gaze locked with hers. His blue eyes searched her face, her eyes.

  Before she could say anything, he murmured, “No. We cannot rescue those children.”

  “But they’re children! They’re innocents.”

  His features hardened. “I agree. If there was any other way...” He glanced toward the beach, then looked bac
k at her and met her gaze. “But this is likely to be our only chance to locate the slavers’ camp—certainly in the next few days. Think—why take more children? And specifically older ones. According to our list, before, they took those aged six to ten years old. Why the change?”

  She blinked. Frowned.

  “Because they haven’t been able to take adults—not recently.” He reached out and took her hand. “Not easily and safely. Not since Lady Holbrook fled.” He moved back to the end of the runnel and peered around the corner. Then he glanced back at her. “We need to see where they go.”

  She wasn’t going to argue about that. She raised her skirts and kept up as they stepped out from the cover of the runnel and skirted the dilapidated buildings lining the shore at that point.

  Ahead, the pied piper led the children off the beach and back into the straggling outskirts of the slum.

  They kept well back; being so tall, Robert could see ahead well enough to allow them to keep a decent distance.

  After nearly ten minutes, he murmured, “They’re very sure of themselves. They haven’t glanced back once.”

  Just as well. As they continued into poorer and poorer areas, Aileen was starting to feel distinctly visible. At least she’d elected to wear her dark navy skirt and jacket, along with her darker blouse. The quality still stood out, but a pale green or lemon yellow would have stood out even more.

  The heat was already oppressive. Although she’d grown somewhat accustomed to it, the air still felt as if it weighed on her shoulders. Despite the threat to her complexion, she’d left her bonnet, somewhat the worse for yesterday’s wear, in Robert’s cabin, and she was glad she’d decided to leave off her petticoats. Her skirt might hang rather limply about her legs, but the sartorial gaffe was hardly relevant around here.

  They trudged on. As far as she could tell, they were heading steadily east. She slipped her fingers into Robert’s hand, gripped, and tugged. “Do you think they’re heading out of the settlement?”

  He frowned; his hand closed around hers. “I assumed they would take them to the lair, but we passed the turnoff in that direction a while back—they’re definitely not heading that way.”

  They paced steadily along. Her eyes on the ground, her hand in his, she thought, then offered, “The children said that these slavers—and they must have been talking about the same ones—used to come in the afternoon. But those times, they took only younger children.” She glanced up and met Robert’s gaze. “Young children can’t walk all that far. Perhaps, on those occasions, they did use the lair, or at least some other place to pass the night before walking farther.”

  He shrugged and looked forward. “Perhaps they just walked through the night.”

  She humphed dismissively. “Have you ever tried to walk far with young children in the dark?”

  He smiled faintly. “No, but I take your point.” After a moment, he went on, “However, following that reasoning, it would suggest that today, the slavers came in the morning because they knew they would be leaving with older children—children able to walk the distance to their camp before nightfall.”

  Aileen glanced around. “I thought you said the slavers generally didn’t walk the settlement openly during the day, or at least not with their captives in tow. They held me in the church rather than carry me through the streets.”

  “Adult captives, yes. Through the better areas, including the better slums, yes. But the areas we’ve been passing through are inhabited by the dregs of the settlement’s population. And on top of that, these captives are children who are not restrained but marching along quite willingly, and the slavers were careful to leave the shore well away from the neighborhoods where the children might be known.”

  After a moment, she said, “So they might not stop but continue walking all the way to their camp.”

  Robert softly swore. He should have done it earlier, but... He stopped and drew Aileen to a halt, facing him. “I have to keep following them. This looks like our best chance—possibly will be our only chance—to learn the location of the slavers’ camp before Decker arrives and starts asking awkward questions.” He met her eyes. “I want you to go back to the inn and wait for the others there. Tell them what I’m doing”—he glanced to where the small band trudged along, then looked back at her—“and in which direction I’m heading. And then go back to The Trident with them.”

  She stared at him for several heartbeats, then, slowly, shook her head.

  He hissed out a breath. “This is not the time to argue—”

  “I agree.” She held up a staying hand. “But it seems you’ve forgotten.” Her brandy-bright eyes locked with his. “You asked me for a promise that, once I left The Trident’s deck, I would not under any circumstances leave your side—and I gave it.”

  He stared at her.

  Her lips lifted faintly, as if acknowledging that she knew perfectly well this wasn’t what he’d meant. “I’ll have you know, I keep my promises.”

  He looked at her—took in the unwavering light in her eyes and her determined expression. He dropped his chin to his chest and not so softly cursed.

  “We’re in this together. We’ll go on together.” She shook his hand and tried to tow him around. “Come on. We have to keep up. Because I do agree with you—this might well be our last viable chance to learn the location of that damned slavers’ camp.”

  Robert swallowed his growl, gave in to her urging, and fell in at her heels.

  Hand in hand, they dropped back onto the trail of the pied piper’s little band.

  * * *

  Aileen had been happy to give Robert the promise he’d asked for because, even while in the assured safety of his cabin and wrapped in his arms, she’d foreseen that the same promise would ensure that, if danger lurked when they were ashore, she would be by his side, as per his request, to help him—to guard his back.

  With three brothers of her own, she knew very well that men like them—like Robert—rarely considered that the women they felt protective over might feel the same way about them.

  Very possibly for the very same reason.

  But she was used to male obtuseness, so Robert’s grumbling and his two further attempts to persuade her to leave him and retreat to safety—safety as he saw it—didn’t fray her temper. Rather, they bounced off her inner armor.

  If anything, his attempts made her want to smile.

  Not that she did. No sense baiting the bear.

  They continued to walk farther and farther east. Eventually, they left the outlying hovels of the settlement behind and walked into the darkness of the jungle.

  And the simple act of following the little band became rather more fraught.

  The jungle was dense, the path more like a corridor cut through the greenery. Formed by the tramp of many feet over many years, and evidently well enough used to ensure that the way remained clear, the path constantly twisted this way and that, skirting around the boles of larger trees and palms. On such a winding path, they had to creep closer to the little band to ensure they didn’t lose them down one of the intersecting paths. But being close enough to hear the slavers meant the slavers could hear them. Luckily, the earth of the path was soft, kept damp by the humidity and a layer of decaying leaves; their boots made little sound.

  They tracked the slavers more by the occasional comment or cough, or the clink of weapons.

  At one point, Robert paused and drew out the map of the settlement and surrounds he’d bought from the mapmaker. Aileen peered around his shoulder as he aligned the map, then pointed to a winding line leading out of the settlement.

  He put his lips to her ear. “This is the path we’re on.” He traced the squiggly line from the settlement; she tracked the direction with her eyes until his finger tapped a wedge of blue at which the line ended. “It leads to one of the inlets that run inland
off the estuary.” He refolded the map, tucked it away, then retook her hand. He bent close to say, “I’m hoping they’ll turn aside before we reach the inlet, but chances are they won’t. A camp this side of the inlet would be too close to the settlement—and would probably encroach on the lands of one of the nearby village chiefs.”

  She nodded and fell in behind him as he led the way on.

  Occasionally, well-trod paths led off the one they were on, presumably leading to those nearby villages. Robert kept his eyes peeled, but they saw—and were seen by—no one. The jungle lay somnolent under a blanket of equatorial heat. Every now and then, they crossed or walked beside tiny rivulets; it was easy enough to find potable water, and he encouraged Aileen to drink.

  She seemed to be managing well enough in her cotton skirt and jacket, and her half boots appeared sturdy and well soled. He wouldn’t have minded removing his lightweight jacket, but the dun color helped camouflage the white of his linen shirt.

  Midges buzzed, especially when they drew near water, but as long as they kept moving, the insects seemed too sleepy to follow.

  His mind ranged ahead, gauging how far they’d come and how much farther it might be to the inlet’s shore. How much farther the slavers’ camp might be if it was, as he suspected, hidden in the jungle on the other side of the inlet.

  He didn’t realize he’d muttered his last question aloud until Aileen, now using both hands to manage her skirts as she followed behind him, murmured, “I’ve been thinking about that. Children can only walk so far in a day, and I seriously doubt even children this old will walk far in the dark. Also, the slavers aren’t carrying any supplies.”

  “You’re right.” The observation gave him heart. He stopped and took her hand to help her over a fallen palm. “Unless they intend to stop at some village—and from all we’ve heard, that shouldn’t be on the cards—then it appears they expect to make it to their camp by the end of the day.”

  They continued on. After several moments, her voice a bare whisper in deference to the little band still trudging thirty to forty yards ahead, she asked, “What if the place they stop at tonight isn’t their permanent camp but just... I don’t know—a staging post of some kind?”