“What brings you to Grande Terre, cherie?”Jean came straight to the point.
Kathleen’s smile melted, leaving her eyes shadowed with sorrow. “I come to ask your help, mon ami—yours and Dom’s.”
Jean’s worried eyes met hers and held. “Has this anything to do with Reed?”
Swallowing hard, Kathleen said, “It has everything to do with Reed, Jean. He is missing.”
“Missing?” Dominique echoed.
“A month ago I was told that the Kat-Ann was lost in a storm off the western coast of Florida. All aboard are assumed drowned. A companion ship searched the area, and two days later came across several bodies, totally unidentifiable from having been so long in the water. They were believed to be crewmen from the Kat-Ann, though no one could be sure. A few planks and floating debris were all that could be found of the ship. No firm evidence or certain wreckage from the Kat-Ann was found. The government considers the search sufficient and conclusive, and now regards Reed as dead. Because of the war, they cannot spare more ships or time to search further, a search they are positive would be fruitless.” Kathleen turned pleading eyes to Jean and Dominique. “I have come to ask you to help me search for Reed. I refuse to believe he is dead! The Kat-Ann may be badly damaged and unable to sail. She may have run up on a reef or been blown off course. Any number of things could have kept Reed from returning, but he is not dead! My heart tells me he lives, and I will not rest until I find him. Will you help me, Jean? You know that area like the back of your hand. I’ll never find him without your aid.”
“Mon Dieu!" Jean said softly when her speech was ended. “Do you need to ask, ma petite amie? Of course we will help you.” His warm hazel eyes lingered on her pleading face. “It makes me proud that you have come to me for help, Kathleen. Reed is my dearest friend, and I can do no less. We will turn the islands upside down in our search,” he promised. “Come, we shall go to the house and make our plans. Your men can find quarters with mine.” His gaze turned to Isabel, standing quietly a little behind Kathleen. “This small one must come with us, obviously,” he added.
“I agree,” Dominique concurred readily. “Never have I seen so much—uh—so many—curves on such a little package,” he stammered.
Kathleen laughed. “I have never known you at a loss for words before, Dominique!” Reminded of her manners, she drew Isabel forward, chuckling as the girl eyed Dominique suspiciously. “Jean, Dominique, may I present Isabel Fernandez, a friend of mine from schooldays. Isabel, I am proud to introduce you to two of the best privateers in the world, Monsieurs Jean Lafitte and Dominique You.”
Jean stepped forward to kiss her hand gallantly. “Welcome to my island, Señorita Fernandez.”
“Thank you, Monsieur Lafitte,” Isabel murmured softly, obviously still embarrassed by Dominique’s comment.
When Dominique tried to echo his brother’s welcome, Isabel hastily withdrew her hand. A look of dismay crossed Dominique’s face.
“Oh, Isabel!” Kathleen said. “Do not let Dominique’s appearance or talk frighten you. Behind that fierce countenance lies a heart of gold, and the most devoted friend a woman could want. He is just a big pussy cat disguised as a tiger!”
Jean laughed as Dominique turned bright red. “She is right, of course, but do not tell our enemies this, Señorita.”
Isabel regarded them both dubiously, but allowed Dominique to kiss her hand and to escort her to the house, her hand tucked lightly in the crook of his elbow.
The next day was spent preparing for and planning their search, and the following sunrise revealed three ships leaving Barataria Bay. Jean was taking his own sloop, the Pride, Kathleen the Starbright, and Dominique was piloting the third. After reaching the most likely area, the three vessels fanned out, each covering a designated area thoroughly. Jean had drawn detailed maps for Kathleen to follow, warning her not to go further than the specific area she was assigned.
“Many of these islands are bases for the most barbarous of pirates, Kathleen,” he told her.
Kathleen did not take his warning lightly, knowing he was deadly serious. However, recalling her own short term as a piratess, she thought it humorous that he would think to warn her against such men. “It would not surprise me, Jean, if I were to see a few familiar faces should I encounter one of these pirate’s dens,” she countered wryly. “I do take your words seriously, however, and I will be careful.”
“Please do, cherie.” His hand reached out to brush her cheek. “I would not wish any harm to come to you.” Tenderness was reflected in his hazel eyes, and the ghost of unvoiced feelings from the past.
Bit by bit, they slowly worked their way through chains of islands big and small. There was no sign of Reed or the Kat-Ann and her crew. Each evening they met at a preplanned spot. Jean insisted on this, not only to review what they had seen, but because he knew safety lay in numbers. He was taking no chances with Kathleen’s safety. Dominique concurred whole-heartedly, but Kathleen felt this was more for Isabel’s benefit than hers. Unless she missed her guess, Dominique was quite taken with the petite brunette.
Isabel, for her part, was not quite sure what to make of the burly giant. “He scares me, Caterina,” she confessed to Kathleen.
“Isabel, surely you’ve seen what a gentle giant Dom is,” Kathleen scoffed. “He is a big, friendly teddy bear.” So it seems,” Isabel agreed, “but I have learned from experience that appearances can be deceiving. It was a hard lesson to learn; one for which I paid dearly.”
“Just because your husband was a beast, does not mean all men are. You said Carlos was handsome and suave at first, later to reveal himself as the swine he truly was.”
Isabel nodded silently.
“If it is true that appearances are deceiving, then look at Dominique from that viewpoint. Outwardly he is a huge, fierce pirate—sinister enough to make any maiden swoon with fright, I will grant you. In truth, he is just the opposite; kind, gentle, faithful to the end. If I put my life in his hands, Isabel, I know he would gladly die protecting me.”
“But he is so big and muscular,” Isabel argued. “It frightens me to think what could happen if I angered him. One swipe of his huge paw, and he could squash my skull like a melon!”
“Isabel, the man cares for you. I can see it in his every look and gesture. His eyes follow you like a forlorn puppy. He’d never hurt you, dearest. I know it.”
Isabel shook her head. “I don’t know, Caterina. I want to like him, but I truly don’t know if I can ever fully trust any man again. Dominique’s scars are on his face for all to see, but mine are inside, and they are deep.”
“I know, amiga. All I ask is that you show him a little kindness now and then. He, too, is my friend, and I hate to see him hurt. He knows nothing of your past trials, and I believe he thinks his size and scars alone cause you to shy away from him. He is aware that he is not a handsome man, and though he never mentions it, he is inwardly very sensitive about his fearsome looks.”
“Oh, dear!” Isabel sighed miserably. “I had not realized. I don’t mean to deliberately hurt his feelings. I just can’t help being frightened of him. In future I will try to do better, but I can promise nothing.”
“Time will tell, my friend,” Kathleen prophesied with a far-away look. “Time may reveal many unexpected turns of events in both our lives.”
Three weeks later, they still had not discovered so much as a chip of paint from the Kat-Ann. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air—or the depths of the Gulf. Kathleen was losing her earlier exuberance, becoming more despondent by the day.
It was then Jean decided they should go together to visit his “pirate brethren” to find out if any of them had seen the Kat-Ann or heard news of her.
“Will they tell us if they do know anything?” Kathleen asked skeptically.
“I think they will tell me. We do a lot of business together. I buy their stolen goods and sell them in New Orleans—for a tidy profit, of course—but I pay them a fair price. They
will think twice before offending their major buyer.” Then Jean shrugged. “And what they do not say, we can probably deduce from their actions. Over the years, I’ve come to know the value of watching a man’s actions, his eyes in particular. It has saved my life many times over.”
Kathleen agreed. “The primary rule of the best swordsmen in the world—never take your gaze from that of your opponent.” She smiled, her eyes alight with renewed fervor. “I should love to spar with you someday, Jean. Few men can give me a competitive duel, but with you it would be a challenge, indeed!”
They headed for a place called Boca Grande, a passage named for its wide mouth. Here, a barbarous pirate, Jose Gasparilla, had made his stronghold on an island he called Gasparilla Island. He was notorious for having captured a ship and ordering all its crewmen murdered and thrown overboard. Often, women and children met the same fate at his hands, unless they were lucky enough to have a wealthy family to ransom them. Usually he spared only the most beautiful young women, and those worth ransoming. From what Jean told them, Gasparilla was completely without morals, so it came as a surprise to learn that he allowed no harm to come to those ladies whom he hoped to trade back to their families in return for small fortunes. To ensure their safety from his randy crew, he had even built a stockade on a separate island to seclude them. Captiva Island, as it was called, and its hapless prisoners, were guarded only by Gasparilla’s oldest and most trusted men.
The other captured women, those young enough and pretty enough to catch Gasparilla’s lustful eye, but having no wealthy relatives, met quite another fate. Most of them became Gasparilla’s private slaves of pleasure until he tired of them, which he did with amazing regularity. It was also said he had a quick and ungovernable temper, and woe betide the woman who angered him. Rather than beat her, Gasparilla usually beheaded the offender.
Once a new woman had aroused his lust, one of his old harem had to go to make room for the newcomer. The ousted girl was fortunate (or not, depending upon one’s viewpoint) to be handed over to his men for their pleasure. Otherwise, she was killed outright.
Gasparilla was a strange blending of merciless beast and learned gentleman. Born into the minor aristrocracy of Spain, he was well educated and even well-mannered when he wished—which was not often. On his island, he had built a fine home for himself, furnishing it lavishly with plundered goods. When at home, he preferred quiet in which to read, rest and love. To assure his peace, he had had his most rowdy men relocate their village to another inner island where they could carouse and not disturb him. Undisputed king of his private paradise, Gasparilla ruled with an indiscriminately bloody sword and an unstable, volatile temperament.
Upon hearing of Gasparilla’s reputation, Kathleen was surprised that Jean had included her and Isabel in his plans, and said as much. Jean gave her an amused, if long-suffering look. “Naturally, I thought to suggest it before you took it into your stubborn head to face him alone. Then, too, I think I know you well enough to judge that, had I asked you to stay behind, you would have defied me anyway and come despite the risks. Am I not correct?”
Kathleen had the grace to look properly chastised.
“Thus, I thought it wisest that you accompany us, where I can at least watch over you. Had you gone by yourself, Gasparilla would never have let you leave his island again. Your beauty alone would have been reason enough for him to hold you, but your arrogance and quick tongue would have been the death of you. This way, Gasparilla will see that you are under my protection.”
Isabel was concerned. Looking from her own bold attire to Kathleen’s she queried. “Do you think Kathleen and I should don our dresses? These breeches are quite revealing. While Kathleen can control her crew, and you your men, there is no sense in stirring up Gasparilla’s blood or that of his band of cut-throats.”
Jean considered Isabel’s suggestion while Kathleen awaited his opinion. “No,” he decided. “From what I have seen, Gasparilla prefers delicate, helpless women who will give him little trouble. I think he will be less tempted if the two of you present yourselves as self-willed, strong-minded women. If you are afraid, do not let him see this. Do not deliberately antagonize him, nor let him view you as a challenge to his pride. On the other hand, he must be made to see that you would be quite capable of skewering him if need be. Given that, and the fact that you are in my care, I think he will keep his distance.”
“If he wants to live to love another day, he will,” Kathleen promised, touching the hilt of her rapier. “Regardless, this trusty blade will not leave my side while we are there.”
Gasparilla was everything Jean had said, and more. After identifying themselves, they anchored in the bay and were escorted to his house, where Gasparilla was informed of their arrival. They were seated in his tastefully decorated parlor but a few short minutes before Gasparilla strode in. Nearly as big as Dominique, he dwarfed the room. Kathleen knew immediately that the man regarded himself as a perfect specimen of male supremacy. It was there in the proud tilt of his head, the swagger of his walk, the arrogance of his steely grey eyes. Even his lips seemed molded into a perpetual sneer beneath his full mustache. He obviously liked fine clothing, and wore it well. Taking all this in, Kathleen concluded that, while not ugly, he certainly was not handsome by her standards, and his conceit made him less so.
Kathleen watched as his eyes swept the room, stopping briefly as he assessed the two women in the small group. A sly smile curled his lips and stayed as he addressed Jean.
“Jean Lafitte, what brings you to my island again so soon? We just sold you all our goods not long ago and have little else to trade as yet.”
Jean met his look evenly. “We have come on business of another kind, Jose. It is a matter of grave importance concerning friends of mine.”
One bushy brow raised slightly over the cynical grey eyes. “Oh? What has this to do with me?”
“We are trying to locate a missing ship and crew. It is possible you may have seen her in the area or have word of her.” Jean was weighing his words carefully so as not to offend Gasparilla. If the man suspected they were accusing him of being involved in the Kat-Ann’s disappearance, he would tell them nothing.
The silence was heavy as Gasparilla considered this. Evidently satisfied by Jean’s expression, he asked, “What vessel are you looking for—and why?”
Jean explained in detail about the storm and the Kat-Ann's disappearance. “That was nearly two months ago, and still there is no sign of the frigate or my friend. For weeks we have scoured the islands with no success.”
“I would need a description of the vessel,” Gasparilla told him.
At this point, Jean introduced Kathleen. “This is Kathleen Taylor, Reed’s wife and my very dear friend. She can tell you anything you need to know about the Kat-Ann. ”
The same dark eyebrow rose again in concert with its mate. His gaze swept Kathleen from head to toe, and she bristled at the lecherous look heating his eyes. “Come now, Jean! What joke is this?”
“No joke, I assure you.” Kathleen’s voice was cool as ice, matching the glacial look in her eyes. “The Kat-Ann is a hundred and seventy foot frigate, weighing out at five hundred tons empty, with a capacity of a thousand tons in her hold. Sleek and fast, she carries a crew of fifty men. She is armed with thirty guns; three twelve-pounders, eleven eighteen-pounders, twelve twenty-four-pounders, and four thirty-two-pounders. Her most distinguishing feature is her figurehead, a figure half-woman and halfcat.” Kathleen finished listing the Kat-Ann's specifics, her cool green eyes leveled on Gasparilla’s bland face.
“How many masts?” Gasparailla asked.
“Three.” Kathleen’s expression reflected her exasperation. Everyone knew a frigate had three masts!
“How many sails on the mainmast?”
“Eight, counting staysails.”
“Is she as fast as Jean’s bark, the Pride?”
“The Pride is a sloop, as you well know,” Kathleen retorted.
“What
is her beam?” Gasparilla was referring to the frigate’s width at the widest point.
“Forty feet.”
“Name her woods.”
“Teak decking, and mahogany planking; solid mahogany helm.”
Gasparilla smiled, a wide, crooked lifting of his lips. “I wish I had seen her. If she is half of what you say, she must be quite a vessel.”
“The best,” Kathleen boasted boldly.
Jean intervened at this point. “Do you recall the storm I mentioned? It must have been quite a blow for that early in the season.”
Gasparilla nodded congenially. “It was, indeed. I was out on a run and barely made it back in one piece.”
Dominique spoke up. “Could Brew Baker have seen the Kat-Ann?” He referred to a fellow pirate based on Bokcelia Island, not far away. Brew had been the one to first introduce Gasparilla to the Lafitte brothers.
“He might have,” Gasparilla shrugged. “If so, he hasn’t mentioned it to me, but that would not be unusual.” Eyeing Kathleen speculatively, he added, “I could send for him. In the meantime, you must accept my hospitality.”
Kathleen’s level look clashed with his. “To what extent, Señor Gasparilla?” she challenged.
A sly gleam lit his eyes as they traveled shrewdly over Kathleen and Isabel. “After so long at sea, you ladies must be tired, and perhaps longing for a hot bath and a soft bed,” he said smoothly. “I can have my servants prepare them at once, as well as a meal more delicious than you have tasted in some time.”
“I will live without the frills with no complaint, Señor. The only thing I truly long for is to find my husband as soon as possible.” Kathleen’s crisp tone assured him she was serious.
“We will fill our water barrels and buy any fresh supplies you have to spare, Jose,” Jean stated, “and we will wait aboard our vessels for Brew’s arrival.”
Gasparilla’s interest was caught. “Yes, my man said you arrived in three ships, only two of which were familiar to us. He said your frigate is a beauty. When did you acquire her?”
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