Jackson’s shaved head popped up from the hatch of the Hades’ Revenge. Right behind him emerged Kent, his brown hair a chaotic mess. With a firm grip on his arm, Jackson hauled him across the deck and over the bulwarks onto the Redemption. The stylish pirate stumbled along, hands and feet shackled, head bowed. As he passed Merrick, he looked up and sneered, before his gaze shifted to Charlisse, and a licentious grin spread his lips. Even though he was bound in irons, Charlisse’s blood ran cold. Merrick shoved Kent along, following him until Jackson dragged him down the companionway stairs and out of sight.
Drawing a deep breath, Charlisse gazed over the sea. The British ship loomed against the blue horizon. Soon it would be within firing range. How would Merrick escape? He should have set sail by now, not spent his time fixing the Hade’s Revenge! Feeling his gaze upon her, she turned. Their eyes locked in a bond of love that neither sea nor wind could break. Holding out his hand, he bade her come.
It was time to leave.
Sloane and the others were already boarding her father’s ship, getting ready to release the ropes that held the two vessels together. When she reached Merrick, he leaned down and kissed her gently, then caressed her cheek with his thumb.
“Ye best be goin’, Cap’n,” Sloane shouted from the deck of the Hades’ Revenge. He held out his hand to receive Charlisse.
Merrick assisted her over the railing. He tried to release her hand, but she kept her grip fast and turned to gaze at him one last time. Though his dark eyes moistened, the strength behind them brought her an odd comfort. As if he knew they would see each other again. Giving her hand a squeeze, he released her into Sloane’s waiting arms.
Clutching the railing of the Hades’ Revenge, Charlisse watched as the grapnels were released, and Merrick gave orders for every span of canvas on the Redemption to be unfurled. Fully armed for the forthcoming hostilities, he stood near the main deck rail, issuing commands to his crew. He turned to look at Charlisse as the ships separated. Her heart nearly burst with the wrenching pain of losing him again. Yet under his intense gaze, his affection seemed to close the gulf between their souls even as the gulf between their physical bodies widened.
With a thunderous snap, the Redemption’s sails caught the wind, jolting the mighty ship, and sending her through the turquoise waters. She watched Merrick until she could see him no longer, and then she watched the ship itself until it was but a speck on the horizon.
♥♥♥
If Merrick stared at her long enough, took in every detail—the slight upturn of her nose, her dark lashes circling ocean-blue eyes, her long curls, glittering like gold in the sunlight, the soft, gentle curves of her body, the way she looked at him as if her heart was his alone—if he memorized every detail, then no matter how long they were apart, he could bring her image to mind and find comfort there.
He hated leaving her. But to take her with him meant to endanger her life, and since God had trusted him with such a precious angel to protect, he intended to do just that—even if it cost him everything.
Not wanting to subject Charlisse to a life of piracy, nor to the constant fear of his being caught and hanged, he had formulated a plan. However, the sudden appearance of the warship had altered that plan. He could not secure Charlisse in the Colonies right away, as he had hoped, but if his absence extended longer than two months, he’d left specific instructions for Sloane to take her there. In the meantime, he would have to hasten his efforts to procure his acquittal.
Which was why he had brought Kent on board the Redemption. Not that Merrick could get the traitorous cad to admit any foul play to the governor, but perhaps the man would inadvertently disclose information pertaining to someone who would. He’d also wanted Kent as far from Charlisse as possible.
The Hades’ Revenge disappeared into the blue haze, and Merrick turned to the business at hand, trying to keep his mind off the exquisite girl he had left behind—the only woman in the world who had ever possessed his heart.
A thunderous roar split the calm morning air, bouncing across the white clouds. Merrick spun to see a puff of smoke spewing from the British ship. “All hands on deck! Beat to quarters!” he shouted, leaping to the quarterdeck. The round shot hit the Redemption with a shattering blast.
Chapter 45: The King’s Court
Merrick shuffled into the courthouse, the chains on his bare ankles clanking over the marble floor and chafing the rat bites on his feet with each step he took. Ahead of him, another prisoner staggered, shoved forward by one of the two soldiers who had escorted them from the dungeons of Fort Charles.
The small but ominous hall of justice, situated just east of the governor’s mansion, was thronged with spectators, inside and out. The room’s tall stone pillars and white tile floors were only a mock imitation of the grandeur of its predecessors in England. At the far end, behind raised benches, sat seven men: Judge Baron Wilhelm, Governor Moodyford, the deputy governor, and four prominent citizens of Port Royal. Dressed in scarlet robes and thick white periwigs, they shifted uncomfortably in the stifling heat permeating the building.
As the prisoners entered, the crowd erupted with howls and jeers, hurling insults at the captives. A crier yelled to silence the unruly mob, then again with a threat of imprisonment. Finally the noise dulled to a murmur of hushed voices.
The prisoner ahead of Merrick stumbled and nearly fell. A pitiful-looking fellow who at one time must have been strong and virile, but now, after what Merrick guessed to have been many months in prison, was an emaciated shell of a man. He plodded forward, his head hung low, his ragged breeches revealing a multitude of festering sores.
Merrick silently thanked the Lord that the trial was about to commence. Regardless of the outcome, anything was better than rotting away in the fort’s dungeons. The week he had been incarcerated before his escape had been nothing compared to the six weeks he had just endured. Why had God rescued him from prison and reunited him with Charlisse only to throw him in the dungeon again? Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Given up all control? What else did God want from him?
For days he’d paced his cell, pounding the stone walls and shaking the bars until he felt he was going mad. Then one day, he realized he was behaving no differently from when he had been locked up before. He had professed to put his complete trust in God, but when put to the test, he had failed. Falling to his knees on the slimy stone floor, Merrick had repented and reaffirmed his faith in God’s plan and his acceptance of whatever would come of it.
Afterward, with a much lighter heart and more peaceful spirit, his time behind bars—though certainly not pleasant—had been bearable. Reverend Thomas visited him daily to offer encouragement and comfort. Without his friend, Merrick wasn’t sure his faith would have remained so strong during those long weeks. Also, the knowledge that Charlisse was safe and would be well cared for comforted Merrick a great deal. Some days he felt his heart would burst in anguish without her, but he knew it was up to the Lord whether they would ever be together again.
If Judge Baron Wilhelm had his way, Merrick was sure they wouldn’t. The man’s reputation preceded him as vicious, unsympathetic to the helpless, and no lover of the truth. It was said he hated these yearly trips and despised the British outposts as uncultured havens of debauchery and lawlessness. He tolerated the assignment only to improve his position with the King’s court, and therefore expedited each case as quickly as possible. The only hope a prisoner had was that on the day of his trial, the judge would be in a favorable temperament.
That hope quickly dissolved as Merrick glanced at the baron, sifting through documents, his countenance sullen and angry. Sweat trickled from beneath his white periwig down his fleshy cheeks. With a sigh, he looked up, annoyance tugging on his features. His face was pale from lack of sun, his folded neck thick and flabby, and the dark bags under his eyes spoke of many a sleepless night. Merrick’s heart almost went out to him until he bellowed the name of the first prisoner with such animosity it seemed he had already pronoun
ced a death sentence.
The first prisoner stepped forward. The clerk of arraigns faced the crowd, and reading from a scroll, relayed the charges against him … something about thievery and impersonating an officer. Merrick wasn’t paying attention, his gaze shifted between the faces of the judge and the prisoner. While the other judges remained attentive, Judge Wilhelm, head on one hand, gazed at the ceiling and sighed.
After the reading, the judge asked the man for his plea—guilty or not guilty. A long pause ensued, in which the man said nothing and the judge’s countenance grew livid.
“What say you, man? I asked you a question. Are you guilty of these crimes or not?”
Still, not a sound was uttered—even from the crowd. Only a breeze rustling through the trees outside the hall and birds squawking filtered through the room. Judge Wilhelm patted a handkerchief over his brow and glared at the man with arrogant disdain. He nodded for a nearby officer to approach.
“You will address this court when spoken to, sir, or I will have your tongue loosened by less amiable means,” he bellowed.
The ragged man stood unmoving, shoulders hunched, head bowed, silent as the grave—either from brave defiance, highly commendable, or irreparable indifference, which could only be pitied.
At Judge Wilhelm’s nod, the soldier drew his sword and struck the hilt across the man’s back, sending him toppling to the ground. The crowd gasped. Merrick flinched, aching to return the favor. The prisoner lay for several seconds before slowly rising to his feet. He lifted his head, opened his eyes, and stared with such intensity into Wilhelm’s droopy eyes that the judge squirmed in his seat.
Still the prisoner said nothing, and Merrick found his respect for him growing as fast as his pity had before.
Regaining his haughty composure, Judge Wilhelm proclaimed in a loud voice, “I have no choice, therefore, but to find you guilty on all charges by your own unwillingness to voice any objections.” He glared at the man, a sinister smile on his lips. “You shall be hanged by the neck until dead Friday hence, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Still, the brave prisoner neither opened his mouth nor dropped his steady gaze from the judge’s.
“Remove this man!” The judge waved his bony, jewel-laden fingers.
Merrick nodded as the prisoner walked by and a flicker of emotion brightened the man’s otherwise deadened eyes.
The harsh voice of the clerk of arraigns bade Edmund Merrick to raise his hand, and this he did almost mechanically, stepping forward to the bench. A rustle of voices emanated from the hall behind him but soon quieted when the clerk began reciting the list of charges. On and on, the words echoed under the vaulted ceilings, making him a vicious traitor against the most glorious and magnificent King Charles the Second, his natural God-appointed Lord. The charges claimed that by following the wicked intent of his heart, without fear of God or the slightest respect for humanity, he had failed to remain loyal and obedient to the articles of privateering he had signed under the auspices of said Lord.
Merrick could not resist a slight smirk as the tirade continued, now listing more specific crimes such as brawling, drunkenness, rape, villainous thievery, lewdness, the attacking and looting of British merchant vessels, and finally, the attack upon the British warship HMS Intrepid.
“I hope we will find you more vocal than the last prisoner,” the judge said.
“Oh, I assure you, your lordship, I have never been accused of not being so.”
Laughter spread through the crowd, and some of the ladies in the gallery called his name. Merrick turned to acknowledge them. His eyes fell upon Reverend Thomas, who stood in the middle of the room. His calm demeanor and gentle smile brought a welcome comfort.
Clearly annoyed, Judge Wilhelm stared at Merrick as one would a cockroach. “I see you have gathered quite a following. But I assure you, your popularity is about to end.”
Merrick bowed, smiling.
“You find this amusing?” The judge’s jaw flexed in irritation.
“No, your lordship. I find nothing amusing about this mockery of a trial.”
“How dare you address the court in this manner!” Wilhelm shook his finger at Merrick, his jowls flapping. “I am Judge Baron Wilhelm, commissioned by King Charles as judge and jury over these proceedings. The king himself has great confidence in my wise opinion, good sense, and keen discernment in criminal matters, and,” he added, leaning forward, his eyes twitching, “I’ll not have the likes of you, a common thief and murderer, disgracing the court with your vulgar words.”
“Then, am I to assume by your own admission that I am already condemned as thief and murderer without so much as a word of defense on my behalf?” Merrick smiled.
The judge grunted. “We will hear your case, and I assure you the truth will be found out, as it always is in my court.” He shuffled papers on the bench and called for the first witness, Commodore Henry Norsten of the HMS Intrepid.
The commodore marched forward, impeccably attired in his red coat trimmed with gold buttons, his cravat of white lace, cream-colored stockings, black boots, and a rapier, which hung menacingly at his side. Under his commodore’s hat sat a neatly curled periwig. He gave Merrick a look of disdain before turning to face the judge.
His story was a simple one. He had been given orders to pursue and capture Captain Merrick, who had recently escaped from the prison at Fort Charles, and bring him back to face charges of piracy. After spotting the rogue pirate ship and signaling quite clearly for Captain Merrick to put down the helm and lie to, the pirate—he spoke the word with contempt as he nodded at Merrick—dared to fire a round shot at the HMS Intrepid. He said the last phrase as if he were still shocked by the audacity of the action.
“What say you to that, rogue?” The judge gave Merrick an icy smile.
“I would say that he relayed the incident most accurately, your lordship,” Merrick answered calmly.
Judge Wilhelm’s brows arched as the other judges murmured amongst themselves. “So you are admitting to firing on a British warship?”
“That I am, your lordship.”
Looking at his compatriots and accepting their nods of agreement, the baron shrugged. “Then I daresay there is no more to be said in this case. The villain has confessed.”
A low grumble erupted in the crowd.
The judge opened his pale lips to pronounce sentence when Merrick’s voice rang across the room. “I admitted to firing on the HMS Intrepid. Indeed I did, but ’twas only a warning shot. I did not hit her.”
“That you are a poor shot makes no difference to this court.” The judge chuckled.
“If I had wanted to hit her, your lordship, she would be at the bottom of the Caribbean.”
A ripple of laughter crossed the galleries, but was immediately silenced by the stern voice of the crier.
Judge Wilhelm’s face contorted. He patted a handkerchief over his moist forehead.
“It was merely my intent to frighten the ship away,” Merrick continued, “but when I saw she would not relent, I raised my white flag and surrendered willingly.” He gestured toward the commodore. “He will confirm my story.”
The judge’s glance shifted to the British commander.
“It is as he says,” the officer admitted with a heavy sigh.
“In fact, I have never fired upon a British ship with intent to harm, your lordship,” Merrick offered.
“Rubbish! It says here”—he pointed to documents on his bench—“that merchandise from a British merchantman was found on board your ship!” His glance took in Governor Moodyford, who nodded and added, “Several articles, including the ship’s bell with HMS Challenger engraved upon it.”
“They were placed on my ship without my knowledge,” Merrick intervened.
“Silence!” The judge’s voice boomed. “You will speak only when spoken to.” Composing himself, he turned once again to Moodyford. “How did you come by this information?”
“His first mate, a man named Kent Ca
rlton, informed me. I sent men straight away to the Redemption to see for myself.”
The judge glared at Merrick. “What say you to that, pirate?”
“I was betrayed. Those articles were brought on board my ship without my knowledge. My crew—Jackson, Brighton, Royce, to name a few—will testify to that fact.”
“Come now, are these your only witnesses? Pirates?” The judge laughed, and the other men on the bench joined him.
Merrick raised a mocking brow. “Yet you take the word of a pirate to condemn me.”
The crowd burst into shouts and jeers of protest so loud even the crier could not silence them. Finally, Judge Wilhelm stood, and with pointed finger threatened the lot of them with imprisonment, until one by one, their voices stilled.
“Was there ever such an impudent villain as this?” He raged, spit flying. “’Tis truly a wonder that your neck has survived the noose this long.”
A deep voice reverberated from the back of the hall. “And a wonder to me, sir, that you have survived as judge in the King’s court for equally as long.”
Gasps filled the air. Heads turned. Outrage thundered on the judge’s face.
Chapter 46: The Pearl of Great Price
Charlisse sat on the sandy beach, admiring the creator’s artwork as he splashed oranges, reds, pinks, and yellows across the horizon in an exquisite masterpiece of light and color. She didn’t remember the sunsets being quite so beautiful when she had been marooned on this same island, but perhaps it was because she now believed in a loving God, and everywhere she looked, there were glimpses of his radiance.
Each evening she sat in the same spot watching the sun go down, praising her Father in heaven, and lifting Merrick into his safe hands. Yet each evening the same fears crept into her heart, testing her faith to the breaking point. Would she ever see Merrick again? She was beginning to have her doubts. He had told Sloane to wait two months before taking her to the Americas, and that time was coming to a close.
The Redemption Page 31