Eighteen
It was his fault. Being locked inside a rocking prison and having to smell the vile sewage of the bilge was enough to drive anyone insane. He had to find her. If it took his last breath, his ship would not sail until she was on it!
Perhaps she’d wandered onto the island. She loved the beach. Would she have disguised herself, taking care to hide her generous curves from the ravenous stares of his crewmen?
Jacque swallowed. White fear enveloped his soul.
“Lose somethin’, Cap’n?”
Jacque spun on his heels to face the curious pirate.
Brutus! Damned Brutus! By the smug, fiendish lift of his nose and matching grin, it was obvious he knew something.
Nostrils flaring and chest heaving, Jacque wanted nothing more than to snatch the man up and beat any knowledge of Esa’s whereabouts from him. Instead, he caged his wrath for the time being and addressed the heartless savage in a civil tongue. “Aye, ye know of something I may be missing, Brutus?” The husky man sneered with just enough haughtiness that told him he did.
Jacque stiffened, battling the urge to pummel the ballsy sailor on the spot. Had Brutus been amongst the others when they’d gone on land?
No, he’d stayed behind, whining about a belly ache or some other bogus ailment.
“No Cap’n. I know of nothing ye might possibly be missing; except perhaps, ye whiskers. Odd that you’d just up and shave in the midst of a voyage, I don’t recall ever seeing you behave more strangely.”
Jacque stiffened. He’d been so eager to please Esa, he’d quashed the warning flags that had gone up in his head when she’d asked if she could shave him. And although his suspicious crew voiced no concern, he’d seen as much as felt the questioning sneers.
“Ye still have your paints, aye? And ye wee pet? What else might a man need while at sea?” With a wicked chortle, Brutus turned his back and walked away.
Jacque’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails pierced the tender flesh of his palms. His body had grown tired of holding back its rage. In the next second, he leapt onto the wide back and tackled the giant to the deck. They rolled along the weathered planks, exchanging blows and insults as the fervent crew gathered round.
Jacque was rearranging the bones in Brutus’s crimson streaked face when he felt a hard jolt against the back of his head. A brilliant array of stars swirled his vision before he was swallowed up by an abyss of blackness.
~ * ~
Stewart locked the door when the others had left and took a chair on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t like this. A feeling similar to acid eating away at his innards had consumed him ever since Brutus, Emmanuel and Billy the butcher had forced him to join in the mutiny. His illness had only heightened when the mermaid was found in Cap’n LaFleur’s holding.
“Don’t look at me,” he pleaded, turning his chair so the bonny mer-witch couldn’t read the fear in his eyes. She would kill them all for her suffering.
Why wouldn’t Brutus listen? Why did he always have to have the final word? With Keats gone, he and Billy would drive them all to a watery grave. That is, if the mer-witch didn’t beat them to it. He wasn’t sure which terrified him more.
Perhaps if they’d left her behind, she may have shown some mercy. But not now. He could see it in her eyes. It was too late for mercy. If he looked at her long enough, she’d probably suck his soul right through his peepholes and leave naught behind but a hollow carcass for the seagulls to feast upon!
Her bewitching gaze reeked of vengeance, of controlled fury. What was she waiting for? Why hadn’t they all dropped dead from some godforsaken plague by now?
Sweat trickled down his forehead and he blotted it with his musky sleeve.
Somehow Cap’n LaFleur had found out about the mutiny. Odd that he had been but a few paces from where the mysterious wench was discovered. Had the mer-witch whispered treachery in LaFleur’s ear?
Stewart’s face flushed as though he’d spiked a fever. Was she doing it? His head snapped in her direction. Was the witch smiling through the gag? A rush of adrenaline surged his frightened veins and he found it difficult to even breathe. By God, she wasn’t just smiling, she was laughing! Devilish eyes glistened with merriment. No longer recoiled in her travesty of terror, something had changed inside the magical creature.
He pulled at the scarf hugging his neck and dabbed at the moisture on his face. Damn, it was hot!
How long before Brutus returned with the butcher? Could their wrath even come within a pigeon hair to that of the mer-witch? If they didn’t come soon, he’d not hang around to find out. He’d sooner take his chances with a school of snaggle-toothed sharks than the mischievous sprite in his midst.
~ * ~
Head throbbing, Jacque opened one eye only to squeeze it shut again. His hand started to his temple in hopes of stilling the mind-boggling clamor, but to no avail. His wrists were shackled behind his back. Eyes brimming with hell’s fury flew open. He kicked and squirmed in attempt to get his footing, but found his ankles had been bound as well. Merde!
Who would dare pull such a dangerous stunt?
A haze of memories swarmed his thoughts. His blood thundered through veins filled with a savage, blinding rage. He bucked and pulled, but the tangle of ropes refused to give way. He opened his mouth to summon Stewart, only then realizing he’d been gagged as well. His mouth was dry. The musty smell of soiled linen having been washed in the bilge stung his nose.
Not again, please, not again.
How was he to right his wrongs from the ocean floor? Where was Esa? He felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He’d let her down, again.
~ * ~
Esa watched the slinky child-like man as he paced the room. Pale and sweaty, he looked positively terrified.
Of her!
Perhaps she could use that fear to her advantage. What choice did she have? If she didn’t do something, these belligerent men would kill her. And Jacque.
She’d heard every scheming word uttered from the conniving bastards’ lips. As if she were any threat to the small army of cantankerous buccaneers. In no time at all they’d overpowered her. The gag tasted rancid and caused bile to clog the back of her throat. Her wrists throbbed where the ropes rubbed together. Once they’d covered her, they carried her off the ship and onto the island.
She’d never forget the fear that took hold of her as a deep voice croaked, “We’ll hang her used remains from a tree and send the Cap’n on a little scavenger hunt.”
Never had she been more scared or felt more helpless. She’d heard every spine-shuddering word the vile swashbucklers spoke and was sure they would kill her…until the sky lit up like the Fourth of July, and just as earsplitting. Thank God for the storm. As bizarre as it was, they’d somehow thought she was the cause of its fury. The mer-witch’s wrath. Had her circumstances not been so serious, she might have laughed. She only wished she held such power!
Yet, they didn’t know it. She might be able to use the fear to save her life, to save Jacque.
Working tirelessly at the ropes binding her hands, she couldn’t help but think of her father. God how she missed him! Seeing how things had turned out, she could hardly blame him for not leaving her the business for Sid to corrupt. But to leave it to a stranger? She didn’t want to think about that now. Although, the fury it brought forth only aided her quest to free herself as it gave fuel to her cause. He would be proud, she mused as the rope fell slack at her back. These sea scavengers could learn a few things from this wench’s expertise with the most puzzling of knots! Honestly, where had Jacque found such loathsome, amateurish hands? He must have been desperate when it came time to assemble his crew. She flinched. He had been desperate. Desperate to save his family.
Well, she wouldn’t let him down. A wicked plan sprang to the foreground of her mind. She’d make Jacque proud and send any lingering thought left in his mind fleeing as far as his proclamation that women were bad luck onboard a ship was concerned.
Knees level with her chin, she freed the ties at her ankles.
The little man was so wrapped up in his fretfulness that he didn’t even notice when she slipped the gag from her mouth.
“Do as I say if you want to live.” She forced an authoritative tone. Stewart gaped at her and fell to his knees. His chalk white face reeked of terror.
Good. He was playing right into her hands. For once in her life, she felt in control. And it gave her power she’d never known before. She prayed it wouldn’t be short lived.
~ * ~
“Ah, Cap’n LaFleur. I see you’ve finally come around,” Brutus cackled as he rounded Jacque in the midst of the quarterdeck. “You’ve been a bad boy, Jacquie. A Cap’n is supposed to look out for the best interest of his crew. We know all about your little secret. Do ye think it to our benefit that you’ve brung a woman on board?” He glared at Jacque as if affronted and ripped the gag from his mouth. “Speak ye scurvy sea dog!”
Jacque opened his mouth and stretched his jaw, moving it side to side in attempt to loosen the lingering effects of the gag. “Aye Brutus, seems ye have all the answers. Where is this woman ye speak of? Surely she lives only in that addled mine of yours?” He masked his alarm with a smug grin while his innards swam in panic. If Esa had come under any harm, he’d come back to haunt every one of the treacherous fools in his death.
Brutus unleashed a bone curdling laugh. He leaned over and whispered something to Hot Hand Harry, sending him scurrying below deck. Still snickering, Brutus turned back to Jacque. “Avast LaFleur. Soon ye shall witness every man take his fill of the comely sea-witch, before she joins ye for a little stroll.”
The fuse that had been sparks moments before erupted in an inferno of blind rage and just when Jacque would have burst free of his hold, Hot Hand returned with a breathless, ghostly Stewart.
“Tell him what ye told me Stew.” Harry looked almost as pale as Stew.
“S-She’s gone!” Stewart bellowed. “One minute she was there, when I turned back, she was gone!”
Three times his size, Brutus jerked Stewart up by the lapels, leaving his feet dangling in the air. “What nonsense is this?”
“The mermaid! She’s vanished! I tried to tell you she was no ordinary wench!” Stewart’s boots hit the deck with a loud thud when Brutus released him. Jaw slack, he turned to Hot Hand.
“Avast Brutus. ‘Tis true, the wench wasn’t in the cabin,” came the rum voiced reply.
An eerie silence fell over the ship.
A fusion of fright and relief rose in Jacque’s belly. What was happening? Had time righted its mistake? That must be what had transpired if in fact she’d vanished, as Stewart said. A cold fist clutched his heart and squeezed with brute force.
Was she truly gone?
He bit back the tears that threatened to spill and steeled himself for whatever lie ahead. At least she’d escaped the torment these cutthroats had in store. He’d have plenty of time to grieve later. Now, he had to do everything within his power to ensure he lived long enough to find Leon Keats and save his family. And without her as a bartering tool, he had nothing to lose.
A slow rumble started low in his belly and erupted in jubilant laughter. “‘Tis as I said, the wench lives only in ye addled brain, Brutus!” He didn’t so much as wince when the sting of a powerful right hook met his face.
“All hands on deck, I want every crevice of this ship inspected until the bitch is found!” Brutus shouted, turning critical eyes toward Jacque. “I’ll deal with you directly.” Brutus tossed an empty decanter of rum over the ship. “Soon mate, you’ll be chasing after that drum.” Brutus disappeared below deck.
Jacque closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. Why was this happening again? Would time flail him about only to let it end like this? Surely not! At least Esa was out of imminent danger. Did Brutus know about the diamond too? His thoughts were distracted by the sound of footsteps.
So soon? Had they found her? He opened his eyes but the main deck appeared deserted.
The breeze carried a familiar scent to taint his nostrils at the same time he felt a sharp tug at the gathering of his wrist. “Jacque, we must hurry! They think I’m an angry mer-witch, once they discover I’m not, they’ll kill us both,” Esa spoke in a breathy rush. “We’ve got to get off this ship!”
Esa! His heart gave a hard thud. She was still here, in his time! Doom shaded his elation. Soon his men would return and if they found her, they’d not deter from their previous threat. Once his wrists were free, Jacque released his ankles and pulled her into the ships shadows.
“For chrissake woman! I thought ye were gone!” He hugged her and even though time had seen fit to leave her in grave danger, a huge part of him rejoiced in the solid feel of her in his arms. “Are you all right? Did the blackguards hurt ye?”
“I’m fine, just a little shook up is all.”
“Thank God.” He kissed her quickly and held her at arm’s length. “They’ll be returning soon, and when they do, I want ye to stay here. Understand?” He paused and looked at her through eyes that would settle for nothing less than obedience. When she grunted to his satisfaction he added, “Don’t come out for any reason. Should anythin’ happen to me, should they discover your presence, promise me you’ll jump ship before they get their foul hands on ye? Far better to face what lies in the depths of the sea than what those heartless freebooters would do to you. Promise?”
Esa’s voice shook with emotion, “But—”
“Promise me Esa!” His grip jarred her.
“A-All right! All right, I promise.” One hurried kiss and Jacque left her alone in the protective dark curtain of solitude to seek out his stolen weapons.
~ * ~
Jacque disappeared from her field of vision. As her eyes combed the deck in search of anything she might be able to use to defend herself, a familiar shrill paraded up the ladder. Brutus! Her heart sank. Had Stewart betrayed her? She’d been sure he was frightened enough to do whatever she commanded.
Jaws hit the deck and bitter tongues wagged when the crew discovered that Jacque, too, had gone missing.
“‘Tis the mer-witch! Come back to claim her lover!” Stewart cried. Esa breathed a sigh of relief. For a lengthy second, she was afraid she’d been found out. He hadn’t told. Thank God his fear of her was deeper than those of her fellow crewmen. Where was Jacque?
A ruffling noise drew the men’s attention upward, though she could barely see its source. Too late, Brutus discovered its origin. Jacque slashed his cutlass through the air, severing a line from the sails and taking hold as it whipped round, descending gracefully onto his doe faced crew. A brisk whoosh saturated the area as the blade whirled toward Brutus. It ripped through his chest and exited through his back. The soft fatal thud as metal met flesh and the crushing of small bones pierced the ears of those in attendance. Blood spurted from his chest and down his hands as he clutched the blade and swayed before falling amongst the deck, the cutlass pinning him to the wood planks.
The sickening sweet smell of death stung Esa’s nose and she wanted to hurl.
Jacque landed a few feet away from the collapsed crewman. Pulling a pistol from each boot, he held them toward what remained of his trifling crew. “I warned ye what would happen if you dared speak of mutiny aboard my ship, did I not? Drop your weapons. Do it!” He fired a warning shot, just missing the toes of a snake-eyed crewman. “The next shot will be a few feet north.”
Metal clanged against metal as blades and pistols pummeled the deck. Half the men complied immediately; the other half stood exchanging knowing glances as though considering whether or not they might overpower the lone man.
“You heard him, drop your weapons!”
Jacque visibly stiffened. Every man standing went rigid, their face a mask of white terror.
Esa hadn’t shown herself, she didn’t need to. Her feminine tone resounding off the wood beams was enough to cause the unruly men grief. She saw Jacque’s shoulder’s shake slightly and r
eleased a muted giggle herself.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry with her. After all, she might well have just saved his ungrateful life!
Jacque cleared his throat and nodded as he looked each man over thoroughly. “That be all of ‘em then?” The sly sneer was meant to intimidate, and it did. Two more daggers fell amongst the others.
“Now, hands in the air, I want ye to fall in and make your way to the hold. If I see a single hand fall, I’ll shot the legs off its owner. Now get below, all ye scurvy sea dogs!”
They gaped at him as though he was a plague to be avoided at all cost. Their pained expression held a breath of relief, as though they were shocked the brusque privateer had left them alive at all.
Jacque followed his men below. After a short while, he joined her on the quarterdeck. She heard him the instant his boots hit the wood planks and thundered toward her. “I told ye to stay put!” he bellowed.
The nerve of the louse. “I did stay put! I—” She broke off when she saw the look of mischief on his face. He was laughing!
She couldn’t help but join in. “Those poor men. They looked like they expected you to kill them.”
A somber smile curled his lips. “Aye, poor men, indeed. Had I not felt a need to keep them alive, I would have sent them all to the 21st century.” He winked roguishly, adding, “Avast me buxom beauty, I hope ye know how to man an 18th century schooner seeing we’ve no hands on deck. Except these.” Jacque held menacing hands up and advanced on her slowly, the deliberate grin of a ravenous wolf on his face.
The long black schooner made her way toward Saint Milo. Esa shared her account of how she’d convinced Stewart to help her, else he suffer the black rage of the angry mer-witch. Jacque had laughed until his belly hurt as she recounted the humorous story.
They’d barely escaped with their lives. Indeed, it appeared lady luck was on their side leaving them with a feeling of invincibility.
Corsair Cove Page 31