Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  “Cap’n, there’s a ship! About twelve hundred yards off starboard, sailing at six or seven knots.”

  As the men caught Young Jim’s exclamation, every pair of eyes riveted on Cain. No one moved. No one muttered. In the heavy silence that descended, tension mounted, so thick a cutlass could cut it. The moment they’d all been waiting for had arrived.

  To deny them would open Cain to mutiny. He’d promised to reward them well, vowed they would leave no passing ship untouched. Already he turned away from a likely prospect, and to do so now would make him weak. Unfit to lead. If they didn’t immediately cast him over to the sharks, they would take pleasure in his torture, and India would become their sport.

  Yet the excitement he had once known at the prospect of a fight failed to ignite. Dread rolled his stomach into a hard knot, and regret turned his veins to ice. If he issued the order, all hope of returning to a decent life was lost.

  He stared at Young Jim’s eager expression. Invisible chains snapped around Cain’s wrists and weighed him down. This was his fate. The only life Richard left him. If he intended to survive, he could make only one decision.

  With a short nod to the men gathered at the tables, he murmured, “To your stations.”

  As raucous shouts broke out, Cain pushed past Young Jim and made for the stairs. He took them two at a time, his stride determined, full of false purpose. A fight they craved, a fight they would get. God take mercy on his soul, for he knew no alternate course.

  Drake hailed him from the quarterdeck with an enthusiastic shout. One foot propped on a crate, he was every inch the cunning captain Cain had once called equal. Now, looking at him brought a feeling of such self-loathing Cain grimaced. He too had once relished the loss of life. Had gloated at the prospect of easy victory.

  He looked starboard and took in the three tall masts across the water. Studied the flying Royal Standard of France atop her tall main mast. Six knots…The Kraken would overtake the heavy-bellied vessel without effort. This was no challenge, no battle worthy of great skill, no conquest to fuel pride. What they embarked on was nothing less than slaughter.

  With a sad shake of his head, Cain fought down the voice of reason. He told himself the Frenchmen invited trouble by sailing waters so close to Nassau. Rationalized that if she bore false colors, the foolish pirate at her wheel should know better than to come within such close distance to an inbound ship. Particularly when The Kraken made no pretense of hiding her identity as she sailed into port.

  He glanced up at his Roger and searched the twin skulls for the villain that slept inside his soul. In the ripple of the indigo silk, the last of his decency slipped into the wind. He inhaled deeply and bounded up the stairs where Drake handed him a bracer of pistols and a cutlass. Cain buckled the leather belt around his waist, closed his fingers around a leather-wrapped hilt. In one swift draw he pointed the cutlass skyward. “Bosun, pipe to quarters!”

  “Aye, Cap’n, pipe ta quarters, it be!”

  No sooner did Stuart’s echo die off, than the shrill note of his short flute rang over the decks. In answer, men who had milled about aimlessly took on new purpose. Energy thrummed through the crew. Mutters became eager shouts. Sails shifted, furled and unfurled. Ports creaked open. Forgotten ropes found neat and tidy homes.

  Drake looked to Cain with an approving nod. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Cain gave him a disparaging frown and turned to the helmsman. “Strong and sure, Stormy. You know the course.”

  Drake’s seasoned helmsman returned the order with a gold-tinted grin. “Aye, me knows the course by heart.” He gave the wheel a slow half turn.

  “And you,” Cain nodded at Drake. “Tell Reggie to prepare the guns. Warn the cur I’ve not forgotten about the ropes. I will deal with that matter once this one has passed.”

  “Cain, Cain, Cain.” Drake shook his head with a robust chuckle. “An’ here I thought you were makin’ progress.” He bounced down the stairs before Cain could reply, but his sing-song voice rang out, “Woman, oh woman, there be no greater spell than the one she hath cast over me.”

  Cain ground his teeth together so hard he feared they would crack. One way or another, Drake would pay for that remark.

  ****

  At the sound of heavy feet pummeling across the decks, India ceased pacing. Shouts broke out and drifted through the cabin’s walls. Above the ruckus, a shrill pipe struck a handful of notes. She cocked her head and squinted at the door.

  Beneath her feet, the boards vibrated as something heavy rolled in the compartment below. More voices filtered through the flooring, their words clearer. She dropped to her knees and pressed an ear to the smooth wood.

  “Larboard gun crew, standby. Starboard crew, load yer great guns an’ run ’em out. Stand to it ‘till we come midships. Snap to it! Lively now! We ’aven’t got all day.”

  Reggie. The hair on India’s arms lifted as she rocked back to her heels. Frowning, she rubbed away goose bumps. Had His Majesty’s Navy finally tracked Cain down? As unease twisted her stomach, she braced a foot on the floor to stand. Halfway to her feet, Cain’s voice thundered beyond her door.

  “One gun, Reggie. Give ’em one gun!”

  Deeper within the ship a voice repeated his command. Then beneath India’s feet, Reggie bellowed, “Cannon two, fire!”

  A deafening blast shook the ship. India stumbled, but caught herself on the back of the chair. God in Heaven, this was happening. The Navy had found Cain, and his ridiculous pride forced him to stand and fight. He’d get himself killed with such foolery.

  Cannonade returned. Something heavy whacked into the hull and sent a crystal glass plummeting off Cain’s shelves. It shattered at India’s feet. One jagged sliver pierced the top of her bare foot. With a yelp, she jumped back. She bent over, gingerly plucked the shard free and tossed it inside an open, empty crate.

  By the saints’, he’d get them all killed.

  She flew to the door and jerked it open. The Navy wanted her. If the commander saw she was unharmed, he’d cease his guns. Then all Cain had to do to save his crew was turn her over. In exchange for her release, she’d convince the captain to let Cain go free.

  She hurried through the narrow corridor and pushed open the main deck’s door as Cain barked another order down the deck.

  “Broadsides now! She wants to fight—fill her full of holes! Fire at will! In twenty yards, sweep her rails, clear off the quarterdeck!”

  India opened her mouth to call out to Cain, but he ducked under a thick rope and darted toward the bow. In one fluid move, he grabbed another line, used it as a counterbalance, and jumped up on the forecastle. With a pistol in one hand, he waved the men his way. “Forward ho, men. Pistols and powder. Starboard crew—prepare the hooks.”

  As the guns beneath India’s feet let out a terrible racket, a sea of bodies rushed to fill the rail near the starboard bow. India braced herself with a hand on the doorframe. She watched in horror as Cain’s men fired. Heard the terrific wails as the balls struck home. Bodies crumpled, then toppled overboard.

  The Kraken drifted closer. Another round of cannon fire made the ballasts shudder. A spray of tiny balls shot from The Kraken’s hull to strike the opposing vessel’s impressive mainsail. The canvas shredded into fifths, as if it had been set upon by a massive pair of claws.

  Her heart in her throat, India took a bold step forward. “Cain!”

  The need to duck and hide pressed her hard. Yet out of sheer determination to stop this nonsense, she pressed onward through the sweaty, anxious bodies. A ball zinged past her shoulder, and she jerked sideways. For a long moment, all she could do was stand and pant, one hand clutched at the base of her throat, the other fisted against her pocket to still her trembling fingers.

  A heavy weight against her back pushed her forward and pulled her from the clutches of fear. She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and fixed her sights on Cain, high atop the forecastle deck. With a mighty shove to the broad back that blocked
her way, she shouldered through the packed space to stand at the base of the stairs.

  “Right now, lay the grap—”

  “Cain!”

  He wheeled around, his gaze searching the decks. When he found her, his eyes widened a fraction. Quickly, his expression shifted, and a glare as dark as thunderheads needed no interpretation. She wasn’t welcome. He pursed his lips, stuffed his pistol into the waistband of his loose trousers.

  India set a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, but as she grabbed for the inset rail, Cain snatched her elbow. His fierce grip dug in to the tender underside of her arm. She flinched at the painful pinch and tugged against his hold. “Cain this is ridiculous. You can’t stop the Navy. All they want is me, turn me over.”

  He thrust her ahead as if he hadn’t heard her words. Jaw set into a harsh line, he ushered her across the crowded deck and down the narrow hall to the cabin. One wide palm slapped against wood as he shoved the door open. “Get inside before you kill yourself.” A rough shove pushed her inside.

  India clutched at his arm. “Cain, listen to me, please. If you grant my freedom I can speak to the Admiral and convince him to let you go this time. There’s no need to endanger yourself.”

  He loomed over her, dark and menacing. Blue eyes glittered like brittle shards of glass. Anger heightened the color in his cheeks. “That is not your blessed Navy. It is a pirate ship, which I am in the process of overtaking.” One jerk of his arm freed him from her grasp. “A task I cannot accomplish if I am distracted by the matter of your safety.”

  “A pirate ship?” she shrieked. “But you are pirates!”

  “Aye, indeed we are, and this, my little bird, is what pirates do. Now get inside the cabin and stay there!”

  He slammed the door with so much force, the lamp on his desk flickered and another glass toppled from the tall shelves behind her. She stared at the doorknob, too stunned to move. This was no act of defense. Cain had deliberately engaged another ship.

  Pistols discharging and the sound of steel meeting steel drowned out Cain’s retreating footsteps. The Kraken lurched hard to larboard. The sickening sound of splintering wood echoed through the hall. India grabbed at the desk to keep from falling to her knees. She closed her eyes to the nightmare around her and prayed they would survive.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  15

  Cain dodged the stout ropes laid across the decks and the solid line of men standing over them. He palmed his pistol and jumped over a toppled crate to assume position on the forecastle. Drake remained on the quarterdeck. Years of working sidelong with one another gave them an advantage the rovers across the narrow patch of sea couldn’t begin to claim. They shouted coordinated commands, timed both aft and fore with such precision that the smaller sloop didn’t have a prayer of success.

  Cain braced a foot on the bottom plank of the sturdy rail, and with one last look at the door to his cabin to insure India had obeyed, he dismissed her from his mind. As long as she remained within, no danger could come to her. On the other hand, if he did not put his mind to duty, he ran the very real risk of death.

  As he fired his pistol, he surveyed the opposition. A motley crew of men, similar to the very ones he commanded, peppered the decks. Though they equaled The Kraken’s crew in number, they were a pitiful lot who could not even organize themselves enough to decide which side of the sloop they would stand on. Some bore expressions akin to a lost and frightened child’s. The more seasoned fought as if they desired nothing more than to join Davy at the bottom of the sea.

  Cain fired again. When the ball lodged into a brawny man’s gut, and the man pitched sideways into his companions, Cain felt nothing. No regret, no remorse, and above all, no elation. He had reached that sacred place where his mind ceased to overanalyze and he functioned on instinct alone. Where the will to survive and to protect those who fought at his side overrode all else.

  Above the volley of guns, Drake’s command drifted down the decks. “Hands, grapples now! Prepare to board!”

  Cain leaned his weight on his back leg, drew his cutlass, and arced his arm above his head. With a lunge forward, he brought the sturdy blade down in the direction of the sloop. “Hooks, now!”

  “Eave!” the men answered in unison. They moved as one fluid body and threw the heavy claws of iron into the air. Clangs mingled with dull thumps as spikes embedded into the sloop’s thick timbers.

  Cain grabbed an overhead line and jumped onto The Kraken’s rail. The scent of sulfur hit him in the face, and for one fleeting moment, all the excitement of the hunt came to him. His pulse bounded, his heart knocked in double time. He was Cain once more, unjudged and bound to no man. Daring brigand. Certain victor.

  He breathed deeply of the crisp salty air and watched as the sloop inched closer to The Kraken. From the corner of his eye, he caught the unrelenting motion of his men. Hand over hand they hauled the smaller ship in. Closed the narrow distance.

  A grin broke free as Drake jumped for an overhead line, climbed into the ratlines, and with a mighty thrust of his legs, swung himself into the air. “With me! Boarders away!”

  Cheers erupted. Eager hands mounted the rail, threw themselves over the narrow expanse. Swords sliced with the touch of their feet, and anguished howls rang through the air.

  Cain put his hilt between his teeth and brought his other hand to the rigging. He leaned back, gathering his weight in his arms, prepared to kick off the rail and swing into the fray. But a movement from his right stopped his forward motion. He caught his toe on the rail and dragged himself to a halt. Disbelieving India would be so foolish, he squinted at the door to his private hall.

  It stood open, the dark recess a gaping maw.

  He quickly scanned the decks for her long dark hair. When nothing but men engaged in blades met his gaze, he dropped from the rail and took his sword in hand. He had shut the door himself. If she hadn’t come out, then someone had gone in.

  Ice flooded his veins.

  He vaulted off the forecastle onto the main deck. Two steps toward the mizzenmast, a cutlass glanced across his arm. He spun around. With a fluid slice, he caught the offender in the shoulder. The stranger’s face twisted in pain. He cried off and backed away, one hand pressed to the deep gash.

  Cain pressed forward into the thick scrape of steel. Yet another man stepped before him, his whiskered face drawn into a sadistic sneer. Enraged by the delay, Cain knew no mercy. He thrust his cutlass into the sailor’s thick girth, then drew back to cleave him across the chest. When the man dropped to the ground moaning, Cain stepped over his bloody body. One thought pounded through his head: India.

  ****

  India’s eyes flew open at the sound of the creaking door. Cain! He’d come back. It was over. Somehow, they’d survived. The breath she’d been holding came out in a rush as she turned around, a relieved smile on her face.

  But her smile faded as she set her eyes upon the same man who’d tried to lead her down the hatch earlier in the afternoon. In one quick sweeping glance, she took him in from head to foot. No blood spattered his dingy-white muslin shirt. Black powder streaks ran down the length of his right leg, presumably from being near a cannon. Or the powder from the pistol that was tucked into the front of his waistband.

  Her gaze locked on the curved blade in his right hand, and she took a step back. Her heel grazed the corner of the desk. To keep from stumbling, she caught herself on her hands. The act thrust her chest forward, and the man’s uncovered eye riveted on her breasts.

  A slow, despicable leer spanned across his thin mouth. “Aye, that’s right, sweetie, offer ’em up. You know what me be wantin’, don’t ye?” As he moved closer, he watched her like a lion stalking prey. “Come t’John, lass. I’ll show ye what yer dear Cap’n can’t.”

  India inched away, but the hard mass at her back thwarted retreat. She splayed her fingers on the desk behind her, subtly searching for the letter opener she’d glimpsed near Cain’s well-used ledger. “
I’ve done nothing to you. Leave me be.”

  “Ah, lass.” He chuckled as he reached between them and cupped her face. “It’s what you’ll be doin’ t’me, that has me here.” His rough thumb scraped across her cheek. “Let’s be startin’ wit’ a kiss.”

  He lowered his head, and his foul breath washed across her face. She twisted her head, unable to bear the wretched odor. His grip became bruising, and he forcibly turned her face back to his. His mouth descended on hers, harsh and cruel. Stiff whiskers stabbed into her chin.

  “Take your hands off her, Slater.” Cain’s low voice cracked through the air, laden with fury.

  Slater dropped his hand as if India’s skin had burned him. He slid rough fingers down her neck. They closed around her throat. Slowly, he turned to look at Cain. “Ah, Cap’n, ye’ve come t’watch the show.” With the tip of his sword, he gestured at the overstuffed chair. “Take a seat. We won’t be long. Then ye kin take yer turn.”

  India clawed at his hand. But her efforts only rewarded her with the tightening of his fingers. Her throat inched closed, and she willed herself not to panic. Eyes wide with terror, she looked to Cain. What she read in his expression stirred some unrecognizable part of her soul. Though he’d been angry with her earlier, what burned behind his eyes as he stared down Slater was cold and dark. Full of hate.

  Deadly.

  Cain’s gaze flicked to her, and for a moment it softened. Yet before she could decipher the full meaning behind those cobalt blues, he turned his focus on Slater again. The silent exchange furthered her courage. Her fear ebbed. In a hundred years, she would have never wished harm on a single human being, but as her gaze fastened on Slater’s lecherous grin, she wanted him to die.

  “If you wish to take another breath, let her go, Slater.”

  Her captor chortled, again spewing fetid air from his throat. “Ye must think me fool ta believe ye intend t’let me walk out of here alive, Cap’n. I know ye better’n that.”