by Andrea Jones
In one mighty stroke, Cecco beat down the doctor’s blade. He plunged between Hook and Hanover, establishing himself. A solid, menacing mass— shielding his captain.
Cecco waited only long enough for Hanover to register his outrage. Then he struck. Clenched in Cecco’s fist, the hilt of Hook’s rapier rose up and descended to deal a blow to the surgeon’s temple. In a bloody huddle, Hanover crumpled to his knees.
Captain Cecco looked down on the doctor, and felt his own fortunes fading with him. In one instinctive stroke, Cecco’s dream had ended. When it came, the iron ice of the hook on his flesh made the situation plain: Captain Hook had returned.
With a vengeance.
Chapter 36
Treasures Returned
At the cold touch of the hook, Cecco lowered the rapier. He relinquished it. With a clink, the handle caught to dangle in the curve of Hook’s claw.
“Thank you, Mr. Cecco.” Hook draped his words in his treacherous courtesy. Cecco stepped back. Already Smee stood guard beside him. He’d handed the torch to Tom and drawn his cutlass.
Hook’s gaze pierced Cecco. The gypsy stood solemn, unapologetic. Finally, Hook turned to look down upon his conquest.
Hanover knelt at Hook’s boots, his head hanging. One hand clutched his rapier, one pressed his temple. Hook tapped the tip of his sword beneath the surgeon’s chin, forcing his head high. Hanover’s eyes smoldered as he stared up at the victor. On the left side of his face, the old scar ran in its crimson line. On the right, the new mark matched the first in near perfect symmetry. The nick from Jill’s knife joined the new cut at the top, to form the shape of a seven. Even in defeat, the surgeon sketched a formidable figure.
“You have caused enough havoc, Hanover. I am finished with you.”
“But I am not.”
Hook looked up. With a swirl of silk, Jill emerged from the crowd. Nibs followed bearing the silver cup.
In Hook’s eyes, the sight of his lady was more welcome than ever before. She hadn’t ventured near enough earlier, but at this moment, with a surge of emotion, he caught the exotic scent of her perfume. He had never desired anything more urgently than to touch her, right now.
Jill looked at Hook as if her eyes couldn’t drink her fill. But she moved toward the surgeon. She knelt beside him and, at last, her gaze left her lover to behold her new husband.
Her forehead creased. She reached out to him. With tender fingers, she smoothed his loose hair, pushing it back. She found her handkerchief and gently pressed his wounds. As he drew breath to speak, she shook her head. “No, my dear. I know what you’ll say.” She dabbed at the blood. “But if you get yourself killed, you will be of no use to me.” He twitched the rapier in his hand, as if eager to fight again. Signaling to Nibs, Jill received the goblet. “A drink, now, Johann. To cool you.” She held the wine to his lips. Looking up at her, he swallowed gratefully. His hand enveloped her fingers, and even through her glove, Jill felt his fervor.
Hook’s face darkened.
Jill helped Hanover drink all he needed, and then she set the cup down. “Johann, I know it is your wish to keep fighting for me.”
Hanover basked in her care, on his tongue the taste of her wine, in his gaze the fullness of his passion. His marred face grew smug as he looked at Hook. “How well you know me, my Jill.”
Hook tensed, his weapon rising.
Jill turned in dignified appeal. “Captain. If you please.”
Every man on the ship watched Captain Hook, keen with anticipation. He held himself in check for the moment, but his voice carried its velvet edge. “Who has won the woman, Jill?”
Her blue gaze fixed on him, then she turned to Cecco. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her gaze shone upon Hanover. “Who else, Captain, but the strongest man aboard?” And she smiled. “Johann, you have proven to me just who that gentleman is.”
“My darling.” Hanover gripped her hand and kissed her palm. He strove to smile through his disfigurement. “If Captain LeCorbeau is ready, we shall leave immediately.”
“Yes, Johann.” Jill wrapped her arms around him. “You knew it from the very beginning. Long before I did.” She gazed adoringly upon him. “You knew I must be yours, that I would one day be your wife.” Jill’s fingers slipped within her bodice. “And, with the strength of your heart, you determined that I will come away with you. But…”
She withdrew a small, empty vial and held it before his eyes.
“…not today.”
Hanover blinked at the bottle. His mouth gaped open. He turned to Jill, his eyes filling with horror— and then they closed. His head fell sideways and he slumped upon her breast, deep in sleep.
Hook’s shoulders began to shake. A smile slid to his lips. His mirth grew until soon, he threw back his head and laughed aloud. The hearty chorus of his men’s laughter joined him, and even Cecco grunted in amusement.
LeCorbeau, looking pale, alternated his gaze between his fellow captains and forced an unhealthy chuckle. Venturing closer on Yulunga’s arm, Liza looked on in disbelief. She stood twisting the ring on her finger, not trusting her eyes.
Jill tucked the vial away. Caressing the surgeon’s sandy hair one last time, she memorized the marks upon his face. Her two fingers moved downward, stroking his chest, to settle on the chain dangling from his waistcoat. Robbing him of his watch first, she tucked her bloody handkerchief in its place.
A chant started up among the men, bouncing from stem to stern, “Red-Handed Jill! Red-Handed Jill!” She smiled again and, with Nibs’ help, she lowered the surgeon to the deck. Offering his arm, Nibs assisted her to rise. Jill transferred her bracelets from her right wrist to her left, loosened the fingertips of her black glove, and dramatically, she peeled it from her arm. The sailors’ chanting reached its peak as she raised her red palm and splayed her scarlet fingers. Her twist of hair shone golden in the sunlight, her gown billowed black as raven’s wings and the opals sparkled at her throat, just below her scar. The men’s hearts swelled to see her.
But they were eager to see the situation settled. Full of good humor now, Hook waved his claw expansively and the sounds of jubilation dwindled. “Well, DéDé. What say you to an amicable cup of wine, and then we’ll put the wind to our backs.”
“Yes, certainly. I am eager to, eh, clear the decks and make sail for France.”
“And, I understand, we are to meet again. One year from now.”
LeCorbeau’s smile had been weak. Now it died. “But Hook, surely— Surely you do not intend to pursue a further partnership! It will be all I can manage to persuade the good doctor to get back to work!”
“A distasteful but necessary part of your task, LeCorbeau.”
“The man will never agree to manufacture his product knowing his profit will line your coffers! And when he wakes without the woman— Mon Dieu! I shudder to think!” LeCorbeau rummaged his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief.
Renaud noted LeCorbeau’s motion. He gave a subtle signal, and L’Ormonde’s sailors began to crawl down the rigging.
Hook replied, “As stubborn as Hanover is, DéDé, I have confidence in your powers of persuasion. He will be anxious to replace the fortune he so recklessly threw our way.”
“Yes! Yes, he will be anxious— to turn around and pursue the paramour, until he pursues himself to his grave!” The Frenchman tamped his perspiring face. “No, Hook, you must content yourself with the prizes you have taken, and never seek more from that quarter.”
Blue-coated sailors lined the deck now. Watching, Nibs tightened the knot of his kerchief. Hook had taught him to use his eyes and ears. In his time aboard L’Ormonde, Nibs had listened to LeCorbeau’s discourse. He knew the Frenchman’s methods. Uneasy, Nibs stepped in front of Jill.
Hook remained unruffled. “My dear LeCorbeau. Why do you think I spared him? Why did Mrs. Heinrich not poison her husband instead of drugging him to slumber? No, no. If I am to forgo the pleasure of destroying the man, I must have my recompense.”
LeCorbeau glowered, moving closer. “And, I suppose, you will not stop there. You intend to rob me of my seamen. My Mr. Tootles…and Mr. Nibs?”
“Mr. Nibs, I advised you to weigh that decision. Have you had time enough to consider?”
“Aye, Sir.” Nibs raised a hand in salute to Cecco before answering. “My brother and I have been told we’re indispensable to the Roger. With your permission, there is no captain we’d like better to serve.”
“Permission granted. You are both welcome back.” Hook shrugged, “As you see, LeCorbeau, your protégé has made his choice.”
By now, L’Ormonde’s full ship’s complement stood by. “Alors. I should have known. One can never trust a pirate.” LeCorbeau gritted his teeth. “Perhaps, after all, what the Roger needs is a change of captains.” Yanking his stiletto from his handkerchief, he thrust for Hook’s throat.
Nibs seized LeCorbeau’s wrist. He dug his dagger under the Frenchman’s chin. Hook followed immediately, pinning LeCorbeau’s gullet with his claw.
Renaud snatched his sword from Hanover’s open hand. But Tom wielded the torch, and a second later, flames singed Renaud’s eyebrows. He threw his arms up to shield his face. Tom forced Renaud backward with the fire, calling, “Guillaume! To me!” The Roger’s crew rallied; the men in blue jackets drew their weapons, advancing on the incited pirates. But, at a sign from Guillaume, they halted.
Guillaume shouted, “Mr. Nibs, Mr. Tom! There is no benefit in further struggle.” Spreading his arms to hold off his men, Guillaume reasoned, “Please, Captain Hook. My commandant has suffered a severe disappointment. If you will release him, we will part company and get under way.”
Rubbing his singed brow, Renaud goggled at his cousin. The Roger’s captain lowered his hook from LeCorbeau’s collar. Excepting Nibs, Hook’s sailors followed suit. L’Ormonde’s crew drew sighs of relief, but soon shared disgruntled glances. For the second time that day, their faith in their quirky captain was shaken; LeCorbeau had allowed personal rancor to endanger his men.
Hook inclined his head to Guillaume. “Thank you, Monsieur. I shall heed your advice and release your captain. Mr. Nibs, Mr. Cecco, kindly escort Captain LeCorbeau and his mate to a boat. Mr. Smee and Mr. Tootles, see to it that the dregs of Doctor Hanover disembark, likewise.”
With Nibs’ blade forcing his head up, LeCorbeau rolled his eyes toward Hook. A note of panic entered his voice as, careful not to move his jaw, he echoed, “A boat?”
“Possibly two. Let us discover how many of your sailors intend to accompany you.”
LeCorbeau’s face drained of color. “Comment? Accompany me? It is you who shall sail away!”
“Yes, LeCorbeau. With your own fine vessel. I hadn’t thought to take her, but, as you have demonstrated such hostility…”
In the spate of French profanity, LeCorbeau came near to spearing his throat on Nibs’ knife. The Roger’s men hustled to the bow to ready a boat.
Hook raised his claw and it flared in the sun as he addressed the company. “I now cordially invite the worthy crew of L’Ormonde to remain aboard. Any who are hearty enough to swear loyalty and sail under my command are welcome to test their mettle.”
L’Ormonde’s crew stood motionless with shock. They watched their captain guided at knifepoint to the boat, he still peering down his overlarge nose and cursing. They hadn’t much time. Considering quickly, the French sailors murmured among themselves, shooting glances between Hook at the stern and LeCorbeau near the bow. Their imaginations dwelt on the drama, full of Captain Hook’s resurrection, his magnificent duel. They might sail to adventure with a legend— on the wrong side of the law— or trust their eccentric captain to find a new ship and recover his sense of business. One by one, those too honest or too timid to take to piracy bade farewell to their mates, and gathered by the boat that now swung from its davits off the bow of L’Ormonde.
LeCorbeau’s chef was called up from the galley. Bearing a bag of victuals, he stood blinking in the sunlight, his blue coat faded with flour. His galley mate followed with a cask of water. The grizzled sailing master trudged up last, lugging his gear and shaking his head. “I am too old a dog to learn new tricks.”
The chef dumped his bag in the boat. “I agree with you.” With his belly preceding him, he trundled toward the pirate captain. “Monsieur le Commandant— if I may make so bold as to ask. What manner of wages do you offer a skilled mariner such as myself?”
“I pay no wages.”
“No wages?” The French sailors buzzed with sudden indignation. “You would make us slaves, Monsieur?”
Hook looked down on the round little man. “Slaves to your own avarice. For the men of L’Ormonde, like the men of the Roger, I grant a fair percentage. The more prizes we take, the richer we all become.”
The chef’s plump face wrinkled. “A most mercenary outlook, Monsieur….How early shall I serve your morning chocolate?”
Under Nibs’ knife, LeCorbeau spat. In silent fury, he glowered as his chef attended a new master.
“Chocolate?” Hook replied. “We will begin each day with my lady’s tea.” Hook sent Jill a commanding look that threatened her balance, leaving no doubt of his intentions. Then he turned to Smee. “We shall have our hands full, Mr. Smee, civilizing these savages.” With his boot, he nudged Hanover’s insensible form. “Now get this barbarian off my ship.”
Smee’s grin was wide as the sea. “Aye, Captain!” He bent to rifle the surgeon’s pockets. With a triumphant gesture, he exhibited Hook’s own keys. “Right where you said they’d be, Sir.” He handed them over, then he and Tom hoisted Hanover by the arms and legs to haul him up the deck.
Jill, too, made her way forward, after a visit to the quarterdeck. Folded over her arm lay the doctor’s beige coat, in her hand a rolled piece of parchment. At a nod from Hook, she held the parchment for LeCorbeau to behold.
“Captain LeCorbeau, I leave the matter to your good judgment. Is it in our best interests to destroy the certificate of marriage?”
LeCorbeau sat straight in the fore of his longboat, his auburn coat iridescent in the sun, his brass buttons shining. With a flutter of cuff, he sneered. “It is your own choice, Madame. I am sure that paper means nothing to me— except as a piece of evidence with which to have you hanged.”
“It might prove a useful tool to spur our surgeon back to work. After all, each of you has suffered a setback. Within a short time the doctor must prepare his potions for your contacts. You must fit out another ship and deliver the product.”
His eyes narrowed. “You foul female.” The Roger’s men bridled, and LeCorbeau did likewise to his tongue. Having learned again the cost of allowing temper to interfere with commerce, he subdued his resentment long enough to consider. Grudgingly, he answered, “I judge it may be useful.”
“Very well, then. I return this certificate to Doctor Hanover’s pocket— and trust you will not enlighten him. Bonne chance, Monsieur, until we meet again.” She smiled. Then she tossed the coat over the surgeon where he lay, limp and disheveled in the bottom of the boat. Her golden bracelets chimed as she threw him a kiss. “My dear Doctor. Adieu.”
With a sudden realization, LeCorbeau seized the boat’s side. “But we can do nothing without the cargo from Alexandria!”
Tom said, “Don’t worry, Monsieur. I know right where it is.” He grinned at Guillaume. The two scurried below to return minutes later, burdened by a crate. The smell of lotus permeated the air all around it. “You’ll have a fragrant voyage, anyway. But one’s all you can carry.” They loaded the crate in the longboat. “We’ll keep the other two safe and dry until our rendezvous.”
Smee opened his hand. “If you’ll just be handing over your keys, Captain.”
LeCorbeau’s lip curled as he and Renaud surrendered their key rings to Mr. Smee. “Come along, Guillaume. We shall leave these cretins.”
Guillaume went pale. “Monsieur…”
“Well? Why do you hesitate?”
“
I— I hardly know, Monsieur.” Guillaume’s face clouded. “Mr. Tom, I had a hope that your Island might be looking out for me.”
“You mean you want to join us, Guillaume?”
“Oui. With all respect to my captain— I do.”
Tom looked to Jill, asking, “What do you think, Ma’am? Will the Island want us?”
“There is only one way to know. What is your opinion, Mr. Nibs?”
Nibs still stood guard over LeCorbeau. “Ma’am. Monsieur Guillaume has been a friend to us. He helped us out of a tight situation.” Nibs turned his brooding countenance toward the commandant. “And he managed it without ever betraying his captain. He’s proved his valor.”
Jill said, “If this is so, we must allow him to choose his path. Captain Hook?”
“Agreed. You are welcome to join us, Monsieur Guillaume.” Hook awarded Jill’s boys a significant look— a look of fatherly pride. These worthy young men had risked their comfort, their futures, their very lives for him, and Hook felt a paternal pull of which he had never before conceived. The force of new emotion underscored his meaning. “My sons have vouched for you.”
At these astonishing words, Nibs nearly dropped his knife; Tom snapped ramrod straight. Jill’s pleased expression transformed to one of pure joy. Hook had never desired offspring. She hadn’t dared to dream he might adopt her sons as his very own.
“Merci— Thank you, Sir,” said Guillaume. “I am honored.” He pivoted to bow to his former captain. “Commandant, I am honored, also, by your interest and affection. I thank you for it, and I hope you will one day find it in your heart to excuse me.”
Renaud stood swiftly. The boat swayed on its davits. “Guillaume, you fool! Get your gear and get in this boat!”
“I am sorry to leave you, cousin. I wish you well. And, I hope, we will meet next year.”