She crossed her arms over herself, suddenly ashamed, just ashamed, desperately waiting for her heart and pulse to steady enough to enable her to run and hide. Seeing this, Cajun silently slipped his arm around her. The comfort of his embrace spoke more than a thousand words.
"Ah, Captain." A man named John beckoned to Justin from across the fire. He was a huge, thickset man of about thirty. Hardened and tough, he was known for a reckless flirting with danger, all kinds, operating with what is mistakenly called courage. Like most of Justin's men, John was loyal to the end. He was the kind of man one wanted as crew to sail the seas but one of the last people anyone would choose to be stranded with on a deserted island.
Justin met that bare hint of challenge in the man's tone and leveled a direct gaze.
"I know ye said today was the last day of salvaging but well, me and some of the men here were thinkin' of goin' out again on the morrow."
"In search of what?" Justin asked, though knowing the answer.
The men laughed nervously.
"Why ye know the ship 'ad near five tankards of ale when she went down. Couldn't drink none on Jacob's order during the doldrums. Can't see wastin' it now, can ye?"
The question did in fact hold a challenge, for during the two weeks of salvaging it had become obvious that Justin had refused to bring up any of the tankards. The last thing he wanted to see was this group drunk. But he obviously could not stop the inevitable any longer.
"We'll need the lifeboat by noon to move. You can have it till then," Justin replied.
"Ah, now, that's right generous of you, my man." John smiled. "Mayhap we'll find one or two bottles as well, anything to help ease our bloody misfortunes—"
"Not a chance," Justin interrupted. "Any rum, brandy or the like will be turned over to Diego. Kafir"—he turned to the Arab, a man he knew he could trust—"will go with you to ensure the matter."
"Diego?" John questioned and then before he thought better of it, he muttered under his breath, "We all know what Diego needs and it's not the relief of a bottle."
The silence filled with a thick tension. Eric immediately grabbed both Hanna and Elsie's arms and rose, bringing them quickly to their feet and motioning them away from the fire. Cajun might have done the same to Christina but Justin abruptly tossed his food to the side and slowly stood to his feet. "Have you got something to say to me?" he asked with a deadly calm.
Cajun immediately restrained Beau, who stood alert and ready on all fours.
John rose slowly, too, but for a long moment said nothing. Then he glanced at the others and found courage in numbers. "Yes," he began gravely. "Since Cajun and Jacob can't say it, I will. If you haven't got the guts to kill him—"
It was as far as he got. Violence erupted from Justin and he moved with such frightening speed no one could accurately say what happened. He kicked his foot in John's face, followed this with a blow to his stomach, and suddenly John was flat on his back, cruelly pinned by Justin's knee, the sharp point of a dagger at his throat.
"Don't you ever mention Diego's name to me again or I'll show you just how much 'guts' I have for killing."
Christina forgot to breathe.
Justin stood slowly to his feet, releasing his victim. The men were deathly silent and, with the exception of Jacob and Cajun, no one could meet his gaze. "The same goes for each one of you," he warned before turning and storming off into the darkness of the jungle. Cajun released Beau, who quickly followed his master and then he came to Christina's side.
Above the pounding of her heart, she could not reconcile the fact that this was Justin, the same man who could fill her with life and laughter, whose caress could be as gentle as the breeze.
No, it could not be Justin...
Cajun lifted her to her feet and wordlessly led her away from the men and the fire to the tent. The last thing she heard was John's startled cry as he tried to sit up. "Geez, he broke me rib..."
CHAPTER 5
Christina woke to the darkness of the cave. She looked up through a wide circular hole in the cavern's roof, much like a skylight. She watched the silent twinkling of bright stars listening to a haunting silence broken only by waterfalls. It was the third night of Justin's absence. He had been gone since the night of the fight.
He had missed their move to what Jacob nicknamed "mud flats." Hanna had not been exaggerating when she described the caverns. A fairly large fresh water river fell over the side of a small mountain, falling into numerous waterfalls that all dropped into a deep pond at the base. There were a half dozen various-sized caves and caverns carved into the side of the mountain. So it seemed the island provided a perfect habitat for them as well.
Their own cave was difficult to consider from the vantage point of a person who knew only civilization and its habitats. Resting on a plateau overlooking the pond, the cave was the size of a large room, with a twenty-foot-high ceiling past the narrow entrance. Their moss bed lay beneath a natural skylight, one that would need a canvas cover with any rain.
Nothing was the same without Justin. Jacob had forced Hanna, Elsie, and herself to retire at twilight to escape the drunken outrageousness of the men. She had lain awake half the night, listening to their boisterous merrymaking, audible even above the loud sound of running water in the caves. And now here she was awake well before dawn, something she intuitively knew owed to Justin's absence. The absence of his warmth and closeness stole her sleep.
Shivering in the early hour air, Christina rose and quietly slipped outside. The air was slightly warmer outside but still dark and she had to rest a hand on the cavern edge to prevent falling into the pond. She carefully made her way around the wide ledge, stepping beneath a waterfall and then climbing down a ladder to the moist soil surrounding the pond.
It must have been earlier—or later, depending on one's perspective—than she thought, for there was not yet any sign of the softening colors of twilight. She knew exactly where to go to await dawn's light. In the last two days she often found herself escaping to the water's edge, at a spot where the river met the crystal blue water of the lagoon. As she made her way along the river's edge, her gaze scanned the shadows of the beach in search of dark clumps that would be the men sleeping in drunken stupors. The beach was vacant, though, and she wondered if the men actually made it up the ladders to their own caves. She almost smiled at the difficulties that trick surely presented.
The murky ribbon of river connected the caverns with the lagoon. Coral reefs about a mile off shore had created the crystal-clear body of water. The water was so clear one could look into it like a magnifying glass and the day before Eric had taken Elsie, Hanna, and herself out in the boat to view the magnificent sea life in the water's depths, especially abundant around the reefs. But the place she sought now, where the river ran into the lagoon, the water turned a murky blue diminishing with distance from the mouth of the river. Something about the sound of rushing water at that spot made it a favorite place to escape troubling thoughts.
Comfortably seated on the cushion of sand, Christina rested her gaze on the dark horizon, determined to catch the first sliver of dawn's light. She tried not to think of anything—not of the future or of Justin, for those subjects brought confusion of uncertainty. Thinking brought little comfort.
"I'm wondering," a voice suddenly came from behind to interrupt her peace, "just what caused you to wake and wander about in the middle of the night?"
Christina started at the sound of Justin's voice and she rose with a gasp but his strong hands grasped her arms to steady her movement.
"Justin, you're back!"
"I haven't been far really," he said in a whisper as he studied her surprise with a smile. Something in the tone of his voice told her that this was the other Justin, the one she loved. Wherever he had been and whatever he had done, he managed to excise the demons in his heart. She saw this in an instant and suddenly, unexpectedly, a wild rush of emotion filled her, making her at once aware she had missed him, shocking her with
just how much. She could almost cry.
He saw the emotion written so plainly on her face and he chuckled warmly. "Could it be you've missed me as much? Does my absence send you wandering aimlessly about in the middle of the night?"
She nodded assent, and as though rewarding such honesty, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. The kiss was shattering. She was lifted on her tiptoes as the kiss deepened. She felt his thumbs, just his thumbs, slowly caress the sides of her breasts through the thin material of her shift, and as the kiss deepened more, his hands slid down to cup her buttocks and then lift her over his want of her. Desire burst through her in force and then nothing mattered, neither doubts nor uncertainties.
He broke the kiss and let her slide slowly to her feet again. "God," he whispered, thinking he would lay with her, and now on the cool cushion of sand before the sea. "It scares me how much I want—"
He stopped mid-sentence as a scream sounded from the caves. They both froze like animals, alerted. Justin turned, listening. It had been a woman's scream and if his senses were right, the cry stopped as suddenly as it sounded.
"Elsie or Hanna!" Christina abruptly cried.
"Wait here," and Justin was off and running.
With a pounding heart, breath coming in quick jumps, Christina watched Justin's shadow disappear in the night. Hanna or Elsie was being hurt! Attacked! My God, where was Jacob or Eric? Where was Cajun?
Christina could not bear waiting through the suspense and suddenly she, too, started running toward the cave.
With torch in hand, Cajun ran into Jacob's cave but found nothing amiss. Jacob and Hanna were sound asleep. He rushed into Eric's cave. Obviously awakened by the scream, Eric was struggling into his breeches while Elsie sat up, looking around dazedly.
Justin met Cajun as he was rushing out from Eric's cave. Seeing the danger was not from Eric and Elsie, "Jacob!" Jacob said in alarm.
"No—not Jacob," Cajun informed him, already turning toward the only other possibility.
It took Justin a startled minute to comprehend what this meant and then, cursing viciously, he took after Cajun to what they called the sick cave, where Marianna and Diego were housed.
Flames and shadows came alive in the sick room as Cajun's torch added to another. First Cajun and Justin saw Diego, rendered blissfully unconscious from the recently found spirits. Marianna lay in the shadows and for a moment all seemed still, but then the shadows moved and a muffled grunt sounded.
Justin was immediately there, lifting the large man off Marianna and with such force that the man fell against the cave wall, nearly knocked senseless. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded at once.
The man, known only as Bryce, shook his head as though to clear it, then pushed back his long brown hair. His hand slowly reached up to wipe the whiskers covering a wide-set mouth, and from the lethargy of his movements, his hooded blue eyes, Justin saw at once that the man was quite drunk.
"Weren't doin' nothin'," he finally replied in a slurred cockney accent marked with belligerent tones. "Just 'avin a swipe at the lass." He grinned stupidly, then tried to focus his gaze on Justin. "Not that 'tis any of your bloody business."
"A swipe? My God! She's unconscious!"
The man's next grin brought Justin disastrously close to losing control. "All the better," he replied. "Do not mind a'tall 'er bein' out like that. Only way I ever knows with a wench."
Cajun had knelt over Marianna's form. She had awakened with a scream and for the first time since the shipwreck. But red bruises already surrounded her mouth where the man had stifled her screams. The worn bodice was torn. Red marks and scratches spoke of the man's cruelty.
He quickly checked her pulse. His eyes narrowed. He placed a wet finger over her mouth. He stared for a moment in disbelief, then finally looked at Justin. "She's dead."
Christina ran into the sick room just ahead of Jacob to see Justin at that very moment turn from Cajun to Bryce. "You son of a bitch—" and Justin kicked his booted foot with shocking force into the man's face. The man fell violently against the wall and Christina screamed as the sickening sound of his skull cracked loudly on the cavern wall. Bryce never knew what hit him. He toppled into a lifeless clump on the dirt floor. A small pool of blood trickled from his mouth.
Cajun confirmed the second death of the night.
Christina looked with shock at Justin, not able to comprehend the situation—except that Justin had just killed a man.
"Geez... What happened in here?" a stunned Jacob finally managed. Justin turned to him and Jacob knew he was in trouble. He had witnessed Justin's rages before and this looked like it was going to be a fine one.
"What happened in here?" Justin repeated furiously. "I'll tell you what happened. This drunken idiot thought Marianna easy prey for his sick attentions. And now she's dead, Jacob! Dead!"
Christina ran to Marianna's side. Jacob looked from Marianna to Cajun, who nodded confirmation. "I'm sorry." His face became a mixed expression of pain and guilt. "I'm really sorry—"
"Sorry?" Justin shook his head with something akin to disgust. "What I want to know is just what the hell were you thinking signing on a man like that?"
It was well known, especially by Jacob, that Justin cared more about the quality of men sailing his ships than he did even about his ships. While John and the others might not be parlor room dandies, they were a far cry from the stupid, base creature Bryce so obviously had been. Justin would never have let the man scrape barnacles from his ship's bottom, let alone hire him as crew.
"I can explain," he began. "We were in a snatch. I 'ad 'alf a day after your trial to set sail after ye and I was at least ten 'ands short. He, and some others like him, were all I could get."
Justin was not to be pacified by excuses. "A damned wharf rat could have served better—" he began angrily, though in truth his anger rose less from Jacob's indiscriminate hiring than the sheer misfortune of the night's events.
Christina was not listening to his angry tirade, one that stretched into long minutes; her gaze fixed on Marianna's face, strangely peaceful in death. Poor Marianna, never chance or fortune...
Tears filled her eyes. She was so sick of death, death and violence, the utter viciousness of this life. Would it never end?
"And you, Christina." He turned suddenly to her as Jacob and Cajun were finally dismissed to lift Bryce's body out for burial. "I thought I told you to wait on the beach?"
She stood up slowly, but lowered her eyes. "I thought it was Elsie or Hanna and—"
"No, sweetheart," he interrupted harshly, impatiently, "I don't care what you thought. I don't tell you things capriciously; I mean them. I'll not have you question my orders like that again."
She bit her lip to stop from crying, boldly meeting his gaze. "I can't believe you're angry with me when... when Marianna is dead and you," her voice trailed to a whisper, "you just killed a man."
"Believe it." He took two steps to stand over her, then lifted her face. "The last thing I want to see in a dangerous situation is you. You're the easiest way to get to me and it would take but a fool to know it."
There was a long silent pause before she turned to leave. "Was it necessary—" She stopped at the opening. "I mean—killing him?" She seemed to almost choke on the word.
Justin was presently far too preoccupied to consider Christina's feelings, thoughts or values on the taking of life. Her father had indoctrinated her in numerous pacifist beliefs, teaching her that the taking of life was man's greatest sin, that violence begat violence and no good came from it, beliefs she had incorporated into her heart with a naive passion. He never argued with these views, realizing her experience stood as an ocean of separation from any harsh reality.
"He's not the first I've killed, and I daresay, he'll not be the last." With that seemingly callous statement he dismissed her too. Christina stood with a frightened pause as she assimilated the cruel words she did not want to believe. Once done, she turned and, chased by the demons of her heart
, she started running.
* * * * *
The western lookout was a small indentation carved naturally into a ninety-or-so-foot cliff that dropped at a straight right angle into the sea. One reached it by climbing down a long makeshift ladder, secured precariously by ropes tied around a huge boulder at the top. The only reason any man trusted this ladder with his life was because Cajun had made it.
Brahms reached the top of the cliff and called down to Robert, presently on watch. "Relief has come, my man," Brahms chuckled as Robert, a small, lean man climbed the ladder as swift as a spider monkey. They spent several moments shooting the breeze before Brahms took a deep breath, and keeping his gaze securely fixed on the top, he began the frightening journey down, more than a little glad that after the first month of sailing with Justin—two long years ago—hard labor had stolen all excessive poundage.
He jumped the last three feet, thanked God for safe passage, and, after placing fresh wood on the signal fire, he settled comfortably on the small plateau. He removed his favorite pipe from his knapsack. As he leveled his gaze on the shimmery blue vista, he drew on his pipe, pretending as always that it was filled with sweet Virginian tobacco. And had his pipe actually been filled with that tobacco, he might have believed he had journeyed to heaven, so complete was his contentedness on the island.
Like most of life's paths, it had been chance, pure and simple, that he had met Justin and Jacob in Boston two long years ago. Crying in his cups, drunk and destitute and wishing he were dead, he had been tossed physically out of an ale house. He had lain in the gutter for hours, kicked, spit at, and scorned by passersby, and some pitiful part of his soul actually welcomed the harsh treatment. That was until he looked up to see Justin staring down at him, and not all too kindly.
Something about that one look of Justin's suddenly filled him with the decent emotion of shame. He had tried to struggle up, wanting to get away, not wanting to feel anything, especially anything decent. And that was the last thing he remembered. He woke up on Justin's ship, cared for by one of Justin's many pretty maids.
Horsman, Jennifer Page 12