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Barbarous

Page 33

by Minerva Spencer


  If a person decided to thumb their nose at ecclesiastical law (as Charles Austen, Jane’s brother, did when he married his deceased wife’s sister in 1820), their marriage wasn’t illegal or void, but it was voidable. A voidable marriage could always be challenged by anyone who could prove they were an interested legal party, meaning that, in theory, the marriage would always be vulnerable.

  Interestingly, the marriage of first cousins was not forbidden by the Table of Kindred and Affinity.

  Read on for an excerpt from SCANDALOUS,

  the third novel in the Outcasts series,

  coming soon!

  1815

  Martín drummed his fingers on the gleaming wooden railing and stared at the Dutch ship. The vessel was upwind and too far away to smell the stench, but Martín could imagine it. The pitiful cries of the slaves were another matter. Those he could hear even from this distance.

  The dirty business of slaving was more lucrative than ever since the British and Americans had banned the importation of slaves several years back. The American South paid well for smuggled slaves as it could not function without slave labor, a fact Martín knew all too well.

  He turned to his first mate. “How many crew, Beauville?” he asked in English, rather than his native French. He’d made an effort to speak English more often several years earlier, after the British granted him his Letter of Marque and Reprisal, the document that made his life as a privateer possible.

  Beauville lowered his spyglass. “No more than forty, Captain, and most of those appear to be either drunk or incompetent.”

  Martín laughed at the man’s dry assessment and strode to where his second mate held the wheel. “Ready the men, Daniels, and then prepare to make the offer.”

  Although the Dutch ship had suffered some damage to its mast, it appeared to be a well-maintained ship and far cleaner than the usual run of slavers. Martín’s own ship, the Golden Scythe, had been a slave ship before he’d captured her, but she’d cleaned up nicely. He regarded the immaculate deck with pride. With a crew of seventy men and fourteen cannon, the Scythe greatly outmatched the Dutch brig and was a force to be reckoned with.

  Still, it was never wise to be too cocky. If the Blue Bird carried to capacity—five hundred souls—the money involved was great. Things would become ugly if the ship’s captain was determined to fight for his cargo. Martín was confident he would triumph in such a struggle, but he knew it would not be without cost.

  A flurry of activity broke out as he watched the other ship, the crew flapping about like a flock of frightened hens. A dozen men stood near the main mast and gestured wildly to one another—a few with machetes. Martín shook his head; something odd was going on.

  Daniels appeared beside him. “Everything is prepared, Captain, and we await your command.”

  Martín turned to Jenkins, his man of all work, who held out two pistols for his inspection. He checked the guns carefully before inserting them into a holster that kept them resting on his right hip while his rapier lay on his left. The holster was of Martín’s design and allowed him to draw any of the three weapons quickly.

  He glanced into the large mirror Jenkins held up before him and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate coat. He took his time and made a minute adjustment to his cravat, careful to keep his movements languid and his expression bored. His crew was watching, their battered faces amused, yet proud. Martín knew they drew strength from his reputation as a cold, hard killer who was more concerned with his cravat than his life.

  To be honest, Martín’s stomach churned just as much, if not more, than that of any other man on the ship. If anyone died today, he would be to blame. While that might not bother his conscience—a hardened, shriveled thing—his pride was fat and healthy, and he could not bear to have poor decisions attributed to him.

  Martín flicked his hand and Jenkins took away the mirror. Daniels’s mouth was pursed with disapproval. The younger man still found his behavior shocking, even though he’d been Martín’s second mate for over a year. Martín found his irritation amusing. “Make the offer, Mr. Daniels.”

  “Aye, Captain!” Daniels turned and gave the midshipman a hand signal and a second later a loud crack issued from one of the Scythe’s cannons.

  Mere seconds passed and the smoke had barely cleared when a black flag crept up the Dutch ship’s pole.

  Martín exhaled, weak with relief; they would parley.

  “Excellent shot, gentlemen, and very persuasive. Beauville, please escort their captain to the wardroom when he arrives.” Martín unhooked his weapon belt and handed it to Jenkins. “Don’t unload these just yet,” he advised before going below deck.

  Once inside his cabin, he cast his hat onto the desk and collapsed in a high-backed chair, careful not to crush the tails of his coat.

  His excessive concern for his appearance was only partly feigned: he loved fine clothing. As a young slave in New Orleans, he’d envied the wealthy, well-dressed men who’d frequented Madam Chantel’s establishment, vowing he would dress even better one day, when he had the means. Now he was rich enough to dress however he pleased, and what pleased him was the best.

  He idly studied his reflection in the glass that hung over his desk, frowning at the man who looked back. Nobody would ever mistake him for a European, no matter how light his eyes, and hair. Even though his skin was paler than anyone imprisoned on the Dutch ship, Martín could be bought and sold just as readily were he to set foot on American soil. Actually, he would face death if he returned home, death being the punishment for a runaway slave.

  photo credit: VJ Dunraven Productions

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Minerva Spencer was born in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She has lived in Canada, the U.S., Europe, Africa, and Mexico. After receiving her M.A. in Latin American History from The University of Houston she taught American History for five years before going to law school. She was a prosecutor and labor lawyer before purchasing a bed and breakfast in Taos, NM, where she lives with her husband and dozens of rescue animals.

 

 

 


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