by Andrea Jones
“Like the two of my own who risked theirs. But, as a matter of fact, we took time to locate only the obvious, knowing you would tidy up the hiding places. I find our arrangement to be most beneficial for all, LeCorbeau. I wonder I didn’t think of it myself.” He admired the baton once more, then laid it across his lap.
At this point Guillaume could no longer contain a sneeze, which erupted loudly. His slender face appeared more peaked than usual as he looked sheepishly about himself. “Pardon.”
“Mon Dieu, my boy, can you not keep this sniveling to yourself?” His captain dropped a lace-edged handkerchief to flutter into his lap. “But where was I? Oh, yes…then yet another wedge was located and removed, and the merchantman was free again, to go on her way— much lighter than before! She should make good time getting to shore to attempt an explanation of her losses. I do not envy her captain! No cargo, and little damage to rationalize its disappearance. Only char on his bowsprit, and two clever wedges.”
Jill’s face became doubtful. “Two? But my sons used four.”
Catching his mistake, LeCorbeau smiled wryly. “Alors, the boy would have his souvenirs! I believe he has earned them?”
Mr. Smee said, “I wouldn’t wonder if the Dutch captain himself is charged with thievery.”
“Eh, in my sentimentality, I have taken care to protect him from such a misfortune. It seems his pocket-book somehow came into my possession. A souvenir for myself as well! Perhaps he lost it while I was consoling him, who knows? But, eh, he can hardly be called a thief when he has not a coin of profit in his pocket.”
Guillaume sneezed again.
“Liza,” said Jill, “please bring the commandant’s man a blanket. I’m afraid he has taken a chill.” Liza emerged from the shadows behind the wheel and picked her way through the maze of men, all of whom drew back to give her passage wide berth. Walking with her head high and her back straight, she sketched a perfect imitation of her mistress, who now sent a look of apprehension to her sons. “Are you sure your midnight adventure hasn’t caused you to take ill, as well?”
Tom and Nibs were seated on a bench next to Hook. LeCorbeau occupied a chair opposite Jill, and he used the pretext of her concern to examine Nibs. “I believe your young men are quite— how do you English put it? Hale and hearty. They appear in excellent condition and none the worse for the experience.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Tom reassured her. “We’re fine. Fit for duty.” Reluctant to retain the Frenchman’s attention, Nibs only nodded. After their success in paralyzing the merchantman last night, both of Hook’s young sailors were relieved to have once again landed, literally, in his good graces.
And not only in their own captain’s good graces; LeCorbeau beamed upon them. “You must be very strong swimmers to have performed this feat.” His eyes fastened again on Nibs. “Such a one would be most welcome among my crew.”
Nibs had his reply ready, but threw a cautious glance toward his captain. Answering first, Hook tapped the baton on one knee.
“I told you before, LeCorbeau. I am not thinking of parting with any of my men—” Liza had returned with the blanket, and as she chose to walk in front of him, Hook was obliged to pull in the ebony stick and retract his legs to allow her to pass. He had noted the girl becoming bolder in the last few days, and with a look, he signaled his displeasure to Jill, who acted immediately.
“Thank you, Liza. Mr. Smee will escort you to my quarters— now— and you may keep yourself occupied until our company departs, by polishing the silver. All of it. And tomorrow Mr. Smee and I will both remind you of our very first chat.”
“Ma’am.” Smee got to his feet. Hanover, seated next to LeCorbeau, scowled at his daughter, and she avoided him as she presented the blanket to Guillaume. Tom was aware of her, too, and as his color deepened, he felt the burn of his new scar again. He didn’t look at her.
Liza saw that, as usual, Captain Hook’s attention appeared to be anywhere except upon herself— but she knew him better by now. With a certain satisfaction, she understood that the captain was the agent of her sudden banishment. He had noticed her! Was it too much to hope he would find a way to punish her, personally?
“Come along, Miss.” Motioning to Liza to follow him, Smee made sure that, this time, the girl passed behind the captain’s chair. In a moment he was back, having shut her in the master’s quarters.
LeCorbeau noted these exchanges, but was not distracted by them. With his elegant hands, he gestured in supplication. “But, eh, Hook, you later indicated that the decision should be up to Mr. Nibs himself. I think maybe you are raising the price of his freedom! Still, I now officially invite him.”
Nibs spoke up, firm but respectful. “Thank you, Sir, but,” he looked at Smee, who nodded his encouragement. “I recently discovered I still have a lot to learn aboard the Roger. I’d best put off leaving her until I’m more experienced.”
“Eh, well, if it is experience you are seeking…”
“After today’s rewards,” said Hook, to Nibs’ relief, “I see a bright future for our partnership. There is plenty of time to weigh your options, Mr. Nibs, and I advise you to use it in order to give the matter serious consider—” He was interrupted again by a racking cough from Guillaume, whose face flushed as his shoulders heaved under the blanket.
Doctor Hanover took the opportunity to survey the French sailor. “Captain LeCorbeau, I am concerned for this young man’s health. Has he been ailing long?”
The little captain waved the concern away. “No, no, only since his immersion this afternoon— except for a certain weakness of the lungs. But he has always afflicted us with that. I am sure there is no cause for anxiety.”
“Nevertheless, this cough bears watching, Sir.” The Frenchman’s nonchalance maddened the surgeon, who massaged his left wrist. Still offended by the grip of the shackle that Smee removed late that morning, he cast his gaze to the side, where L’Ormonde floated tantalizingly near. He must get LeCorbeau alone to discuss the situation. Somehow, he had to board that ship.
As if attuned to his thoughts, Jill said, “I envy my sons their visit to your ship, Commandant. I’m sorry to reveal that I have never set foot aboard any vessel other than the Roger.”
“Ah, Madame, L’Ormonde is my pride and joy! Like yourself, a most beautiful vessel.”
“Then you must allow me to see her. Would you be so kind as to conduct a tour for me?”
Hanover’s spirits soared. Surely, the lady’s desire to speak to LeCorbeau aboard L’Ormonde meant she had accepted his proposal! Controlling his features just in time, he tensed, waiting for her ploy to succeed or to fail. How like her it was to forge an arrangement herself with the Frenchman. But the next moment, Hanover frowned. He might have guessed Hook would interfere.
“My love, such a visit is superfluous. You would find the French ship much the same as our own. Perhaps a trifle less well-appointed.”
LeCorbeau’s beady black eyes glittered. “A trifle more ‘tasteful,’ is the way I would put it, mon ami…but to each his own.”
“I would also remind you, Madam, that LeCorbeau and his sailors might not welcome a woman aboard. You know how superstitious seamen can be.”
“But surely the commandant is above such nonsense. I’ll wager he won’t disappoint me. Indeed, I am certain he will even allow Liza— with her father, of course— to accompany me.” Archly, she turned, daring LeCorbeau. “Are you not courageous, mon cher Monsieur? Would you be so bold?”
Feeling Hanover’s stare boring into him, the Frenchman opened his mouth, but delayed answering. The last thing with which he wanted to deal was a woman on his ship— Hook’s woman! He ignored the besotted surgeon’s attempt to catch his eye and, with relief, listened as Hook prevailed.
“Don’t trouble to find an excuse, LeCorbeau. Jill is wielding her feminine wiles to have her way. And this time, I won’t allow it.”
“But Captain—”
“I have made my orders clear. You are not to board another ves
sel.”
“Not even that of a friend, Sir?”
Hook fixed his steady stare upon her.
Looking down, she smiled. She slipped her hand under his, along his thigh. “Aye, Sir. I understand. I see the answer is…” She raised her gaze to the surgeon’s. “‘Not today.’”
“You do have my permission, however, to go right on wielding your wiles. As you are doing so adroitly even now.”
General laughter followed, in which Hanover did not participate, but sat rubbing his wrist again. This time, the fist above it clenched. How ardently he hoped Jill would slip his sleeping draught down that arrogant throat tonight!
Peeking from behind the captain’s door, Liza observed the signs of her father’s frustration, and also Jill’s delicate hand trapped beneath the stronger one, on the captain’s thigh, next to his ebony baton.
Seeking to preserve the pleasantry, the Frenchman said, “Je regrette, Madame. But, now that you are recovered from your most unfortunate weakness, perhaps you might tell us the story for which we long?”
She answered readily, “An excellent suggestion, Sir.”
Hanover sat straight, the scar tightening over his jaw as, with suspicion, he watched the French captain. His unease did not abate as Yulunga’s liquid laughter poured forth.
“Yes, Lady,” Yulunga said, “And it is only fair for me to pick the next subject.” He turned his broad but ill-omened smile on the surgeon sitting so stonily. “What do you think, Doctor? Whose turn to share in the glory next?” The doctor shook his head, but Yulunga was undiscouraged. “An easy choice. Our good friend Mr. Cecco has yet to hear his legend.”
Having recognized the lash marks on the Italian’s back, LeCorbeau joined in, his eyes eager as he tapped his fingertips together. “Yes, what of the ami? Surely this very decorative sailor has a history as interesting as his shipmate’s?”
Cecco turned to the Frenchman. “As my ‘ami’ can confirm, Sir, my history becomes more interesting by the hour. Especially to me. I would like to hear what the lady has to say concerning myself.” He smiled his gypsy smile. Only Jill felt the chill behind it. “That is, if it pleases her to do so— so publicly.”
Jill hadn’t divined Mr. Cecco’s full story yet, but she had a feeling that, already, he had entangled her in it. In the telling of his tale, she might reveal more of herself than of him— more than would be wise. And, once begun, Jill’s stories didn’t always end. Somehow, again, his gypsy magic clouded her reasoning. She felt herself struggling against the power of those dark, brown eyes.
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Cecco, it does not please me. I— I haven’t quite gathered the threads of your story as yet. Perhaps another evening?”
Cecco’s wide shoulders relaxed. “As you see fit, Madam. One thing I think you have gathered about me. You know I will be ready. When you are.”
Jill wondered that everyone hadn’t heard his insinuation, this time. Judging by the sudden pressure around her hand, Hook certainly had. But Cecco didn’t flinch under the steel of his captain’s regard, Doctor Hanover seemed relieved that the attention had drawn away from himself, and Smee’s eyes at the moment were on guard only against the foreigners. As Cecco and Yulunga swaggered up the deck to rejoin Mullins at their vigil, Jill sat still, feeling the force of Cecco’s passion, feeling the pulse beating beneath her scarlet palm. Mr. Cecco was no longer committing ‘foolish flattery.’ He was courting death.
And then she became aware of the moments that had passed, alert to the surgeon kneeling in front of her— in front of Hook— his voice filled with tenderness, and his hands at a loss. “Madam? My lady.…Lady, are you well? You are suddenly pale!”
Focusing on his scar, she saw in it a likeness to red stripes on a broad back. She had no wish to be the occasion for another— a far worse— punishment. But Mr. Cecco’s fate lay in his own hands. He was aware of the risks he took. Feeling the intensity of Hook’s gaze upon her, Jill compelled herself to smile at the surgeon. “I am quite well. Thank you.” Guillaume began another fit of hacking. “But…” she seized upon the diversion, “you must see to the young man.”
“Yes, just what I was about to suggest.” LeCorbeau aimed a knife-like look at the surgeon, so conspicuous in his attention to this female. It gave him a bad feeling. “If it is not too much trouble, Monsieur, would you be kind enough to examine Guillaume? I would not want him to sicken for lack of the most excellent medical care which is so close to hand.”
Rising, Hanover addressed Captain Hook as if the words burned his mouth. “Have I your permission? Sir.”
If Hook objected to the surgeon’s gallantry toward his lady, he didn’t yet reveal it. “Of course, Hanover. Show Mr. Guillaume to your quarters.”
LeCorbeau sprang from his chair. “And I will, of course, accompany you. Guillaume is most dear to me. I would not leave him at such a moment.” Fussing over his mate, he clucked, “Come, my boy, on your feet!”
Scrambling up, Guillaume clutched the blanket. Although not relishing the thought of an examination, he found it prudent to follow his captain’s orders, and soon felt his shoulders supported by his suddenly solicitous master. They followed the surgeon toward the hatch. Guillaume cast a sideways look at Renaud before disappearing down the steps.
Acting on his captain’s cue, Smee grinned. “Here, lad, let me fill your cup.” He hoisted a jug of watered wine and poured for Renaud.
“Merci, Monsieur.” Renaud took advantage of his master’s departure and drained the drink quickly.
Smee refilled it with a generous portion. “We’ve much to be celebrating tonight. Tell me, how is it you managed to avoid diving after those wedges yourself?”
Renaud smiled weakly. “I cannot swim, Sir.” He cast a doubtful look into his wine. “But then, neither can Guillaume.”
Smee chuckled. “There’s a lot to be saying for rank, lad! How long have you served aboard L’Ormonde, then?”
Conscious of his orders regarding Mr. Nibs, Renaud answered carefully. “I joined my captain twenty months ago, and am very glad to have done so. I have never eaten so well in my life! We found Guillaume stowed away a week later, half starved. He is my cousin and would not leave me. As it turned out, the commandant was glad to accept him, as his first mate had recently died. That is how I came by the job. But, I am afraid, Monsieur, it is Guillaume who is dying now.”
Taken aback, Jill said, “Doctor Hanover is a fine surgeon, Renaud. I’m sure he will take good care of your cousin.”
“Thank you, Madame. Monsieur Nibs,” Renaud leaned forward. “It would be very fortunate for my cousin if you were to join us aboard L’Ormonde. I speak not for my captain, now, but for Guillaume.”
Nibs’ forehead wrinkled, and he exchanged a look with his brother. “How could my joining up help Guillaume?”
“We grew up together. Guillaume is like a brother to me. You understand. You and your brother are close, like we are.” Looking over his shoulder, Renaud reassured himself of his master’s absence. “Our captain has taken an interest in your advancement. If you were on L’Ormonde to occupy him, perhaps— perhaps Guillaume could have the rest he needs to recover his health. I am strong, I will perform most of the duties, but…”
Hook gathered his legs and rose. “An excellent attempt, Mr. Renaud. Your captain has schooled you both very well.”
“Monsieur?” Renaud’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Apparently my Jill isn’t the only storyteller among us.”
Surprise turned to pique. “But I am telling you the truth!”
“Have no fear. I won’t betray your failure to your master.”
“Sir, you insult me, and you insult my master!”
“You mustn’t blame yourself. I’m sure you gave us your best performance. And if your ‘cousin’ is really ill,” Hook’s baton pointed at his two young sailors, “I shall send Mr. Nibs and Mr. Tootles to replace him. Come, my love, I would have a word with you before we join our other guests.”
Ji
ll accepted his arm, and they strolled away from the astonished expressions of their company.
Stealing onto the companionway, Liza huddled behind the rail to watch the party, unobserved. Renaud in his tidy uniform sat on his bench as if starched, until Mr. Smee replenished his wine.
Tom and Nibs emptied their cups, too, and feeling older and wiser than they’d been an hour ago, got some more and drank to their captain’s health. And Guillaume’s.
§ § §
Hook guided Jill through the increasing animation of the crowd, and high up onto the forecastle, where, holding her tightly round the waist as his hook toyed with her throat, he questioned her.
“Your lovers, Madam, are flagrant in their indiscretions this evening. Do attempt an explanation, and satisfy me in this regard. As you satisfy me in so many others.” He said it with a smile.
Employing a smile of her own, she engaged his affection and disengaged his hook. When she could breathe again she answered, demure, “Why, Captain. Have I ever given you reason to distrust me?”
“Reason. That is the crux of the argument, my love. Reason would be offended, were you to cause me any kind of misgiving.”
“It is impossible, Sir. You would read it in my heart. Wouldn’t you?” A challenge, but not only for her captain. She must not lose this game. She knew him…did she not?
He raised his hook, he snagged the shoulder of her gown. Yanking her close, he lifted her chin with the baton and bent his blue gaze upon her. “You know me, Jill. But not, as yet, as thoroughly as I know my Storyteller.”
The iron of his hook burned cold on her shoulder.
Jill told him everything he wanted to hear.
After the couple concluded their tête-à-tête, both the Jolly Roger’s company and their guests enjoyed the captain’s very good humor far into the evening. His lady’s gaze returned repeatedly toward the stairs. Disguising her agitation, she waited in vain for the attentive surgeon to rejoin the party.
Upon retiring and sending Liza to her bed below, Jill knelt down at the master’s feet. She removed his boots and passed him his cup— and made sure that, if, on the morrow, anyone inquired how she rested, she could truthfully reply.