by Andrea Jones
Liza’s eyes, the eyes that had witnessed his crime, widened as she heard him speak of it.
“Your mother suffered from a delicate constitution. Like our prisoner, she outlived her usefulness.” While Liza shrank into the bedclothes, he continued. “I administered too much of the philter that night. To your mother and to myself. And now you have made the same mistake. Your blunder, too, will cost a life. Let us hope it is not yours or mine.”
Hanover rolled off the bed and dragged his daughter from it. “Now dress. Attend to the lady. Not a sign to anyone about your wretched captain, or I will see to it no man desires to look upon you,” his gaze dropped to pass judgment on her nakedness, then he met her eye. “Ever again.”
§ § §
This morning, like every other morning, Mr. Smee watched for the lady. He worked on deck first thing, to get an early glimpse of her and determine if he was needed. So far, the ruby necklace remained out of sight. As he went about his business, Captain Hook’s rapier swung at his side, sending the bo’sun an unnecessary reminder of his duty.
Yulunga rang the bell on the quarterdeck as Jill and Cecco came forth from their quarters. Eagerly, the company assembled beneath its clanging. The rumor had spread already. The captain had collected his first booty, and was ready to share it.
The lady was dressed in emerald today, a gown as green as the rolling hills of Smee’s homeland, and highlighted with Cecco’s gold. Smee wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her look so beautiful, with the sun gilding her hair as it lay against the green, and eyes to match an Irish twilight. But no rubies today, except for the color of her lips. She was smiling, her mouth appearing especially vivid this morning, her lips a measure fuller.
Cecco posed on the companionway in his gypsy regalia, holding up the filled-to-bursting pouch and shaking it as the men of the Roger cheered him.
“It is a good morning, my friends, which brings the beginning of our bounty from the Frenchman!”
Jubilation resounded. Yulunga mounted guard on the steps to marshal the men into order, officers first, so that each could collect his percentage from the captain’s hands. As he did so, Cecco counted out his own take, stowing the bulk of his earnings in his pocket. The remainder he held out to Jill.
“Your promised stipend, my lady.” He kissed her hands as she accepted it, and then he doled out Jill’s own percentage of gold.
Smee bristled. The lady maintained her composure, but surely she must be mortified. The idea of a captain paying her from his own takings— as if she sold her loyalty! The bo’sun stood to receive his earnings from the gypsy’s pouch, then heaved himself away, clutching the coins. The hilt of Hook’s rapier grew heated within his other fist. ‘Captain’ Cecco was sure to feel its point. One day soon.
As the business progressed, young Miss slunk from the master’s quarters. The noisy crewmen celebrated their riches, and she went unnoticed by most. But not by Smee. She wore the mauve gown. A hank of hair had come loose from her net to fall over her face, and she kept her head cast down as if she wished to be invisible. She wasn’t. Yulunga shoved the men aside. “Clear the steps! Let the girl pass.” He smirked as she descended without acknowledging his gesture.
Watching Cecco and his mate exchange smiles, Smee guessed Miss Liza, too, was sure to feel a point one day soon. Mr. Yulunga’s.
Nothing new there. But something was different. Smee angled his head, keeping his eye on the girl. She behaved the same as always. Still haughty, still aloof. What had changed?
Hanover.
The man watched for his daughter. That was different. Poised in his gray suit, he loitered at the base of the steps, leaning on his cane in the midst of the sailors, even after he’d collected his share of gold. He stared at the lady, as he always did. Cecco’s gaze raked him more keenly than usual, and the surgeon appeared impervious to it— again, as always. But he waited for Liza. As soon as the girl arrived within reach, he grasped her arm and ushered her forward.
Smee turned to peer over his spectacles as the pair wasted no time in disappearing below decks. He looked to the lady once more. And then he followed them.
§ § §
“Captain,” Jill smiled as she backed along the gilding of the companionway toward the majestic door of the master’s quarters. She felt a happiness today that, since joining up with her pirates, she’d never expected to feel. Common enough for other females, perhaps, but unexpected of a woman in Jill’s position. She reached out her crimson hand. It only shook a little.
Cecco accepted her hand with satisfaction in his eye. He followed her, his pockets full, the empty pouch dangling from his fist.
“Come, Sir, let’s stow our takings. And then I have a request to beg of you.” With her two arms adorned in his gold, she pulled him over the threshold.
“What is it, lovely one? Have we not already agreed on this morning’s course of action?” He headed for his sea chest, and she hurried to secrete her coins in a hidden drawer of her escritoire. She found her nervousness not as easy to hide.
“Yes. I’ve no wish to change our plans. But I have something to say to you, Sir, of an entirely personal nature, and you may consider it to be everything— or nothing at all.”
“You intrigue me. As always.” He joined her on the cushioned recess beneath his windows. Noting a quiver at the corner of her smile, he said benevolently, “Speak to me of whatever subject you desire.”
He waved his hand in a generous gesture as he spoke, and the surgeon’s wedding ring caught her eye. She would have to get used to seeing it there.
“Very well, Captain. But the subject is a delicate one. I confess, it flusters me.” Merely mentioning it made the rhythm within her turn chaotic. Yet ever so pleasantly.
Cecco laughed. “Now I must be told! What subject could possibly reduce my magnificent queen to common female vapors?”
Weaving her arms about his neck, she kissed him first, and in spite of her efforts to calm herself, she found her heart fluttering like a hummingbird. “I’m afraid that, where this matter is concerned, I am as weak as any other woman. Maybe more so.” She pulled back to place two scarlet fingers on his lips. “But please, Captain. I am nervous enough. Don’t say any more, until I have explained as well as I may.”
Cecco held her, the best half of his heart, amazed to see her turned suddenly shy. She confided in him, and as she spoke, as her hands opened in petition, his dearest dream quickened and sprang into life.
“Si,” he said, emphatically, without an instant of hesitation. “Yes. I welcome it.”
§ § §
Smee didn’t have long to listen. What little he could hear through the wall of the spare quarters was one-sided, the surgeon speaking in low tones to his daughter. Sporadic commands. From what the bo’sun could make out, the doctor remained just as frosty toward the girl as usual.
Smee heard a jingling, though, that for some reason set his innards to churning. The chains, of course. No doubt Miss had been ordered to tidy the bunks. A squeaking from the bed frame followed, seeming to confirm Smee’s hunch. Although the surgeon had signed on with the company, Cecco saw fit to keep his fetters handy. One point on which Smee agreed with the gypsy captain. He listened for more, but within minutes, the doctor and his daughter vacated the cabin, clicked its door closed and moved toward the galley. Smee clearly heard two sets of footsteps, both light, both stepping forward up the gun deck.
Odd, Smee reflected. Come to think of it, the girl hadn’t visited the galley at breakfast time. Since Hook’s disappearance, she had collected the majority of the surgeon’s meals and waited on him in his quarters. All of a sudden, the man who had almost completely ignored his daughter seemed unwilling to let the girl stray from his sight.
But Smee had work to do. Storing his findings for future consideration, he made ready to leave the cabin. Just as his hand grasped the door handle, he heard a sound that made the red hair on his arms stand right up on end. It chimed through the wooden wall, and chilled Mr. Smee to
his very bones.
Chains rattling.
The surgeon had gone. So had his daughter. No one occupied that cabin. Only the bad air must remain, the fug that had hung between its inhabitants. And then another sound issued from the woodwork, and this time, Smee knew for certain. It was a ghost.
Because a long, low groan emanated from the doctor’s quarters.
Like a dead man rising.
§ § §
Nibs had refused everything last night, including the wine— politely. He’d stuck to grog, and damned little of it. As a result, he was wide awake and staring this morning. Staring at the sea, and wondering what he’d gotten himself into. And gotten Tom into, too. Nibs couldn’t see the Roger from his stern window, but it was good to know she was out there, leading L’Ormonde. Despite Cecco’s play-acting for LeCorbeau, Nibs believed the sailor who not so long ago had taken two green lads under his wing would never desert them. Cecco was a good man. He had to be.
Wondering how Tom’s end of the intrigue was going, Nibs attempted to pace. His cabin was so cramped it wasn’t easy, but if he kept his head bent he could get in three good steps before bumping his shins on his sea chest. Although Nibs’ job was distasteful, Tom’s assignment was more difficult, and held more risk. It was obvious from last night’s party that LeCorbeau was in no hurry where Nibs was concerned. He had his two mates. The sea lay before him, his escapade could last a lifetime. Clearly he enjoyed the chase, and savored the time it took to capture his quarry.
But the commandant’s attitude toward Tom was far different. He harbored no affection for Tom. If Nibs’ brother was caught searching the ship, LeCorbeau might punish him cruelly. One day, he might even sink to pressuring Nibs by threatening Tom’s welfare. Still, Nibs would jump at the chance to change places with Tom, if it didn’t mean condemning a brother to the hell he himself hot-footed.
As he steamed forward once again, Nibs’ eye caught a scrap of parchment crammed beneath his door. He squatted to pry it loose, unfolding and reading it even before he straightened to stand. It was from Tom, who had borrowed a pencil and paper from Jill for just this purpose.
Mate,
The cabins on this craft are clearer than my head. See you from aloft. Then I’ll be below, too.
Nibs wadded the parchment and threw it out the window. Then, regretting his delay, he pulled open his door, thrust his hands in his pockets and assumed the privileges of LeCorbeau’s golden boy. Soon he’d be at the wheel, with the fancy Frenchman breathing down his neck. For now, he’d roam the ship with impunity, and keep an eye open for her secrets. Nibs figured if he worked it right, his opportunities would evaporate. Fast.
§ § §
Begrudging the interruption, Smee hustled Mr. Noodler from his quarters, shoving the paint pot into Noodler’s backward hands and sending the sailor on his way to perform his task. In spite of her bo’sun’s ugly mood, the Roger had to be kept pretty. Mr. Noodler had reported for duty, as ordered, just as Smee approached the surgeon’s door. For the first time ever, Smee cursed his crew’s reliability.
The Hanovers’ quarters were still off-limits to ship’s company. Once Noodler had clattered below decks, Smee checked that the gun deck was clear of witnesses. He thought he heard someone speaking nearby, but he waited a moment and, seeing no one, emerged from his doorway. He turned his steps toward the starboard cabin.
The restless spirit seemed quiet now. Smee reached to open the surgeon’s door. Then another kind of sound broke the silence, and Smee paused. Compelled as he felt to investigate the haunting, duty called, in the form of the ship’s bell. It pealed into the air, permeating every deck of the ship.
Smee couldn’t refuse to answer it. In any case, his shipmates poured from the galley now, and the opportunity to enter the doctor’s cabin on the sly was over. Smee felt the familiar need to tap his store of patience. However the mystery prickled, it would have to wait.
The galley disgorged the surgeon and the girl as well, and from all over the ship the company surged topside. Smee charged up the stairs, feeling for his weapon. When he reached the deck, he heard Jukes shouting from the crow’s nest. As Mullins muscled the wheel to starboard, Jukes’ tattooed arm pointed toward the bow. A ship had been sighted. A prize.
All the ship’s company marked it, then turned toward the captain to collect their orders. He balanced on a cannon, grasping the foremast shrouds. His face glowed with exhilaration. Jill leaned over the rail ahead of him, examining the ship through the spyglass. Then she, too, turned to hear the captain’s words.
“All hands! She’s a slow mover, weighted down with swag! No escort in sight. We’ll catch the wind and run her down. Fetch your weapons, mates, and man the cannons!”
The men were ready. Eager shouts followed in the wake of their captain’s words. They spun to obey, but halted as he broke into the clamor.
“Avast! I have one piece of business to set in order first.” Jumping from the cannon, Cecco smiled his gypsy smile. The medallions on his headdress flashed, his knife gleamed at his waist as he strode through the crowd. It parted to let him pass. Like the other men, Doctor Hanover had stopped and turned to look back.
When the captain neared his surgeon, he said, “I have a promise to keep.”
He shot out his arm and caught Hanover by the back of the collar. He yanked the gray coat from the surgeon’s shoulders and twisted, so that from the elbows down, the man’s arms were caught and tethered. Hanover cried out. The men gasped. Cecco shoved the struggling doctor flat to the deck, chest down. As Hanover hit the boards, the breath burst from his lungs. Cecco dropped down to kneel, one knee on the small of his prisoner’s back, pinning him. Hanover’s face filled with horror.
Cecco seized the knife from his belt. He secured the doctor’s coat under his knee and, grasping the top of Hanover’s waistcoat, he slit it. Then he clenched the knife between his teeth while his fists finished the job. The sound of rending velvet ripped the air.
The men exclaimed, staring, and Yulunga spread his arms to force the crowd back. His big black fist captured Liza’s wrist, but he simply kept it, and as she stood frozen he paid the girl no more mind. Jill drew closer to her champion, toying with her necklaces. The wind on her emerald skirts swirled against her legs. The sailors formed a circle around their captain and his victim, watching with wide open eyes.
“I warned you, Doctor. Any association between you and Red-Handed Jill ends in your disfigurement.”
“No!” Bobbing, the doctor tried to lift himself from the boards. “No, Captain! You are mistaken—”
“I am mistaken in trusting you.”
“But—”
Cecco stuck his blade in the collar of Hanover’s shirt, and the rest of the surgeon’s words were lost in the shriek of its tearing. Hanover strained to lift his body, but his arms remained imprisoned in his sleeves. The dueling scar was exaggerated, a red gash on his face. The muscles of his upper body bulged as he writhed, his back bared beneath Captain Cecco. The chill sea air wafted over his skin. The gypsy still knelt, straddling Hanover. He leaned forward.
“You claim I am mistaken. Yet my mistress now owns a piece of gold which I did not give to her.” Cecco held up his hand and splayed it, exhibiting the wedding band upon his finger. Murmurs arose as the men began to comprehend the surgeon’s transgression.
“Jill, my lovely storyteller. Can you tell your shipmates the tale of how this ring wormed its way beneath our pillow?”
The crewmen listened, eyes goggling, all silent now. Only the breeze could be heard, snapping among the sails as the ship hurtled forward, hunting down her prey.
Mr. Smee stepped forward to lodge himself by the lady’s side. He didn’t touch her. She stood pale but proud as she answered her captain in her firm, clear voice.
“No, Sir. I can’t tell how it got there. I swear to you.” As Cecco turned to the men, her eyes left her captain’s face to flicker a look toward the surgeon where he lay thrashing against the boards. As their eyes m
ade contact, Hanover stilled, glowering, and she shook her head, just enough.
Even in his extremity, the doomed man understood. He now perceived the full meaning of the message she penned to him last night. Believe that I do not betray you. Hanover realized the truth. He had erred in leaving the ring. He’d meant it to symbolize the consummation of his passion, but it served also to condemn. His vanity, not his lady, had betrayed him.
Cecco’s cold voice held no mercy. “Mr. Yulunga. Show the men.”
At these words, Hanover’s brow creased in perplexity. Liza’s head shot up, and she stared at her captor. Still restraining her, Yulunga produced the evidence and raised it. “Here, Sir. Broken strands of rope, found caught between your aft windows. And here…a vial of medicine.”
Amid the exclamations of his men, Cecco nodded. “While I was away last night, you climbed a rope to my lady’s window. You arranged for her to drink your sleeping potion. I am certain that every man aboard can guess what else you did to her, when you found her, lying all alone and helpless…in my bed.” His knee bored into the surgeon’s back. “Now, once again, I will pay out your earnings, Doctor Hanover.” Gripping his knife, he raised up his hand, and, without hesitation, lowered it to the flesh of Hanover’s back.
Smee abandoned caution. His brawny arms encircled the lady’s waist. But she didn’t require his support. Her eyes, hard as sapphires, never looked away from the surgeon. To the letter, she had honored her accord with Captain Cecco. Now, Cecco honored his word to her. To the letter.
And when her captain finished his carving, four bright characters spelled out her name. In pretty red ink.
Chapter 25
Findings and Takings
Dragged between Smee and Yulunga, the surgeon stumbled down the steps. His back ran warm with blood, the tatters of his shirt drooped on his arms. Trying to stem the groans, he clenched his teeth and closed his throat. He didn’t consider where they were taking him until Smee’s voice raised the question, and then Hanover’s mind succumbed to the panic he had so far fended off.