The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Yes. And Jonas, Eunice, and Isaac too. ’Twas quite a harrowing night.” She set the cup down on the bulwarks. “This is the worst coffee I’ve ever had.” She smiled.

  Alex laughed. “Cooking was never one of my skills.”

  A blast of hot wind swirled over them, dancing through her hair. “Your doctor gave the children some rice-bitters tea last night. Told me it might be cholera and that he’d heard about this local cure.”

  Leaning one elbow on the railing, Alex turned to face her. “Jonas has studied medicine for years. Never fear, he will take good care of them.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for bringing him. I’m not sure what—”

  She was still talking when, unable to stop himself, he reached up and wiped the soot from her cheek.

  Much to his delight, she allowed his touch. Her voice trailed off, and she raised her gaze to his, eyes moist. “Thank you for saving us. For risking your life.”

  “How could I do anything else?”

  “Jonas told me you suspected Nichols might search for you at the orphanage. Yet you came, regardless.”

  Alex lowered his hand. “The children were sick, and Jonas is a good doctor.”

  “You could have been captured and tossed back in Marshallsea.”

  He merely smiled, thrilled at the concern in her eyes.

  “You could have burned alive rescuing us.” A tear spilled over the edge of her lashes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and studied him, sunlight bringing out the flecks of green in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  Alex shrugged. “I risked my life, aye. But God helped. Without those pails of water and extra blankets scattered about, I would never have gotten the children out unscathed.”

  She nodded, and a tiny smile lifted her lips. “That was Lucas’s doing. I insisted we get rid of them, but Eunice allowed them to remain—to comfort the lad. Now it seems ’twas God’s doing all along.” She gave a sigh of unbelief as she gazed over the bay. “And that silly monkey! We’d been trying to capture him for months. Yet, without him I would be naught but a crispy corpse.”

  Alex ran thumb and forefinger down the sides of his mouth and gave her a teasing look. “So, ’twould seem your God has not abandoned you after all?”

  She leaned on the railing and gazed over the harbor, where several small fishing boats bounced among the waves. “We are all alive, thank God. But I still don’t understand why so many tragedies have come my way.” She bit her lip. “I tried to follow all the rules, do everything right, but hence, I have lost everything.”

  Alex could make no sense of it either. He was the one who deserved to lose everything. Not this angel beside him. He gripped the railing and followed her gaze to the city. “Mayhap ’tis not about what we can do for God, after all. As I said on board the Vanity, we cannot earn his favor.”

  Frowning, she snapped cynical eyes his way. “Then that would mean life is naught but random events which God neither causes nor forbids.”

  “Nay. After yesterday, I believe he is very much involved.”

  She flinched. “I am surprised to hear you say such a thing, milord.”

  Alex drew a deep breath, turned, and took her hand in his. “Juliana, I know I lied to you. I know I deceived you. I know I’ve been the worst sort of scoundrel. But something happened to me in that prison cell after you left. I don’t know. God opened my eyes to many things.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “God?”

  He smiled and caressed her fingers. “He exists. I know that now. I was a fool for turning away from him. And from the children.” Shame made him release her hand. He leaned over the railing and stared at the murky water slapping the hull.

  “I am happy to hear it.” Though her tone was skeptical. He didn’t blame her. Yesterday, he’d denied the very existence of God, and today, he was spouting his virtues.

  The brig creaked over an incoming wavelet. With a sigh, she directed her gaze toward Fort Charles. “Regardless. We should set sail immediately. ’Tis only a matter of time before Nichols realizes I still have a brig and seeks you here.”

  “How now, milady?” Alex shot back in surprise, snapping hair from his face. “Nay, I shan’t put you in further danger. Jonas and I will leave. This is your brig, and it will provide a roof over your head and the children’s.”

  Sorrow claimed her features. “In truth, there is nothing left for me in Port Royal. And, clearly, you can’t remain here with Nichols fast on your heels.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Back to pirating?” she asked, her tone cutting, yet tinged with hope.

  He gripped the railing. “Nay, I find I have no further ambition for thievery.”

  “But you were so good at it.”

  Her taunting gave him hope to turn and face her, taking her hands in his. “I can be good at something else.”

  “Like preaching?” She gazed up at him, her eyes shifting between his.

  “Like loving you. If you’ll allow me the privilege.”

  Chapter 38

  Juliana closed her eyes as Alex eased a lock of her hair behind her ear. His touch never failed to send blissful warmth through her. She could get used to a lifetime of such bliss. When she opened her eyes, it was to a look of complete adoration. She could get used to that as well—along with the way the wind played among the strands of his black hair, the sheer breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his presence.

  But could she trust him?

  Had he really changed, or would he leave her and the children again when God let him down or he grew bored with life? He’d said he’d had an encounter with the Almighty yesterday, but had he? Was it enough to change his wandering ways? So many who started out with great zeal for God allowed it to fade over the years.

  Yet …

  “Something odd happened last night while you were on deck securing the ship,” she began. “Once Jonas washed the soot from his face, Eunice recognized him as the man who brought her money every month. From the elusive Mr. A.” At first Juliana could hardly believe that Mr. A was Alex, but then it slowly began to make sense: his charity toward the young widow in town, his kindness to Abilene, Jonas’s admiration of him, and the way the children who remembered him had responded. Could goodness still exist beneath the crusty exterior of the most fierce pirate in Port Royal? Surely, his behavior hadn’t all been a ruse to win her affections? Nay. For most of his good deeds had been done in secret. Upon that realization, the anger and mistrust in her heart had begun to melt.

  Releasing her hands, Alex glanced over the harbor as if ashamed of the topic.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Why?”

  His jaw bunched. “’Twas the least I could do after I abandoned them.”

  “The great Pirate Earl giving his money to a group of lowly orphans?” She grinned. “Why, if word ever got out, milord? Your reputation as a rogue would be in danger.”

  “Methinks that’s one reputation I can afford to lose.” He smiled wryly, then grew serious. “Giving to those children was the only decent thing left of me. That, and you.” A cloud moved aside, allowing the full force of the sun to beat on him as he stared at the city, lost in thought.

  Slowly, he turned to face her, a storm brewing in his eyes. “I know you have no reason to believe me, Juliana, but I will never leave you. I couldn’t. It would be like ripping the heart out of my own chest.”

  Against propriety, she ran fingers over the stubble on his jaw, relishing in the scratchy feel. Even in the face of being captured again, even in the face of death, he had come for her. And even after the fire, when he could have run away, he’d stayed, made sure they got to safety. Emotion burned in her throat. “I want to believe you, Alex, I truly do.”

  He raised her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I vow to prove it to you the rest of my life. If you’ll allow me.”

  Hope and sincerity burned in his eyes. Wind fluttered the hem of her dress as the brig rolled over a swell. He steadied her with a touch
to her elbow just as he’d been steadying her since the night they’d met. Mayhap he’d disappoint her. Mayhap he wouldn’t. Either way, Juliana could not fathom a life without him. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Moisture gleamed in his eyes.

  She nodded, smiling.

  Cupping her face gently in his hands, he lowered his lips to hers. The world around her dissolved and swirled and spun in pleasurable eddies, transporting her to another place and time where pirates became gentlemen and abandoned ladies were cherished. Drawing an arm around her back, he pressed her close, drinking her in … desperately … lovingly … as their hearts seemed to meld together as one.

  Thunder rumbled. Nay, not thunder. A roar exploded as if a leviathan were about to surface in the harbor. Keeping an arm around her, Alex withdrew from their kiss and glanced over the water. Still. Calm like turquoise glass. Odd. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. Where were the sea gulls and pelicans that normally crowded the skies and fished among the quays?

  Alarm prickled Juliana’s skin.

  Another roar sounded. The water in the bay leapt in the air as if some giant had dropped a boulder in the center. Grabbing the railing with one hand, Alex forced Juliana to her knees beside him just as a wave struck the brig. It canted to port, yanking Juliana’s feet from under her and sliding them across the hard wood. Alex tightened his grip on her. “Hang on!”

  The ship rolled to starboard. The anchor held, and soon they settled into a rocking motion. Distant screams and shouts peppered the air. The sound of rushing water boomed, like a massive waterfall tumbling over a cliff. Alex helped Juliana stand and held her tight as he inched against the foredeck ladder for support.

  Both their gazes locked on Port Royal.

  All the wharves along Thames Street fell into the sea. Nay, not fell. They sank. Followed by the street itself, and then the two rows of homes and warehouses behind it. Plunk! Like blocks shoved over by an angry child. The sea rushed in to cover them, bubbling and churning and reaching for the roofs of those buildings that were sinking fast.

  Juliana gasped, not believing her eyes. Shrieking, she broke from Alex and made her way to the railing. Horror numbed her mind, her thoughts. Alex followed and drew her close as another wave struck the brig, almost sending them tumbling backward.

  Screams and howls of agony blared from the city, some instantly muffled by the crash of waves and gurgle of sinking sand. The ground shook again, shifting in Juliana’s vision as if she peered through an unsteady spyglass. Sand rippled in waves on the remaining land, flinging people in the air, then dropping them into pits that instantly flooded with water. Survivors darted here and there as more of the city plunged into the sea—sucked below by the god of the underworld.

  Women waved arms from windows, screaming. Mobs clambered for higher ground as the furious sea seemed all too happy to reclaim its territory. Juliana spotted one poor woman running for her life when the ground opened up before her and swallowed her whole.

  “No!” Juliana screamed. “No!” Bodies floated to the surface, tossed about by incoming waves.

  Alex drew her face to his chest. “Don’t look.” She felt the wild thump of his heart through his jerkin, his harried breath upon her forehead. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  But she did look. She couldn’t help it. More land sank. More holes opened, then squeezed, shooting saltwater high into the air. The impenetrable stone walls of Fort James, Fort Carlisle, and Fort Rupert dropped from sight, as if they’d never existed. The steeple of Christ’s Church, barely a nob above ground now, reeled and pitched like a buoy at sea.

  A thunderous crunch drew Juliana’s terrified gaze to HMS Swan. The mighty ship broke its moorings and plowed inland atop sinking homes, crushing one of them completely before coming to rest atop another.

  She couldn’t move.

  More screams. More howls. More shaking. Then it all stopped.

  Alex held her tight. Their breath coming in gasps. Their chests pounding together. “The children!” Juliana started for the hatch when something caught her eye—a wall of water rising from the south.

  “They’re in hammocks. They’ll be fine. Hold on!” Alex grabbed the backstay and tightened his grip on Juliana.

  She wanted to close her eyes but couldn’t. The wave swept over what was left of Port Royal, reaching for its center like beastly claws making one last attempt to annihilate its victim.

  Then it struck the ship, shoving Alex and Juliana to the deck. They remained there in each other’s arms, Juliana trembling, Alex breathing hard—both too afraid to move. The ship rocked violently, and Alex grabbed a hatch grating for support. Not until the brig settled and the squawk of a gull sounded did they dare to rise and creep to the railing.

  It was over.

  Too stunned to speak, they merely stared at the destruction.

  Two-thirds of Port Royal was no more. A new shore had formed where the roofs of houses entangled with the masts of sunken ships. Only a few buildings remained on a small spit of land that had instantly become an island, separated from the mainland by the sea that now covered where Fort Rupert had stood.

  “My home!” Juliana pointed to the place where her house had stood, just off High Street. Both street and home now covered by turbulent water.

  “Was anyone there?” Alex asked, fear in his voice.

  “Nay.” She swallowed. “Abbot, Cook, Mr. Pell , and Miss Ellie went to the Braidwin’s …” Her gaze sped to the location of the Braidwin estate. Still there. She breathed a sigh. “Thank God.”

  Alex took her hand in his, his eyes burning with concern. “What of your brother?”

  “Gone.” Juliana tossed a hand to her throat where her pulse raged out of control. “Sailed away on the Esther’s Dowry a month ago. To become a pirate.”

  Alex stared at her in shock, then ran a hand through his hair. “For once his foolishness saved his life.”

  “Abilene!” Juliana tugged from Alex’s grip, her gaze running up and down the foamy water where the wharfs had once stood. “She was down by the docks.”

  “Nay.” Alex drew her close. “She was at my home. Or Lord Munthrope’s.” He pointed to where his house still stood just past the Merchant’s Exchange. “I had Whipple bring her there last week.”

  She eyed him, tears spilling down her face. “Just as you said you would. Even imprisoned, you kept your word.”

  He gave a sad smile. “You thought me such a monster.”

  “Nay. Not you. I didn’t trust anyone.” She scanned the city once again, still unable to believe what her eyes told her. The sea gurgled and sloshed over the spot where the orphanage had stood, along with Reverend Buchan’s church.

  As if it had never existed.

  A realization slammed over her. “We would have all been killed. If I had been home or at the orphanage, then I and all the children would have been killed.”

  “As would I if I was still locked up in Marshallsea.” Alex’s stubbled jaw tightened as he glanced to where the prison had been.

  Juliana broke away from him, her breath coming hard and fast as the truth stormed through her. “All the tragedies that came upon me the past three months.” Her voice raised higher and higher with the revelation. “My father’s illness, me trying to run the shipping business, Rowan’s inability to help—all brought you into my life to keep Nichols at bay.” Alex started to say something, but she silenced him with a raised hand. “Then Abilene’s beating introduced you to her, so you could save her. Dutton Shipping failed, my father died, the orphans became ill—all of which caused me to leave my home. Even your capture and Lucas’s silly pails of water and blankets were all part of the plan to save me and the children from the fire. Don’t you see?”

  Her legs wobbled, and she gripped the railing. Alex held her elbow. “If you hadn’t met me,” Juliana continued, breathless, “you wouldn’t have been captured. And if you hadn’t been captured, you might have been down by the docks, sunk into the sea with the rest of the pirates.�
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  Alex stared at her aghast. Shock, confusion, and finally acceptance—sad, humbling acceptance—filled his eyes before he shifted them back to Port Royal.

  “Everything that happened,” Juliana added, “every struggle and problem happened for a reason. Even Rowan losing the Midnight Fortune in a bet. Otherwise he would have been in town, down at the docks, gambling. Everything was perfectly orchestrated to bring us—you and me and the children and Jonas and Eunice and Isaac—to this brig. On this precise day at this precise time. To save our lives!”

  Alex shook his head, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe God would go to such trouble for me. For you, mayhap. But for me?” His brow twisted.

  “He loves you, Alex. And he loves me. All this time I thought he had abandoned me.” Emotion burned in Juliana’s throat, making it difficult to speak. “I thought he was unhappy with me, that I wasn’t doing enough for him. When all along, he was saving me.” Tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped from her jaw.

  Alex caught them in his hand, then drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. “We can’t do anything to win God’s love. He just loves because … that’s the way he is. He can’t help it.”

  She nestled against him, feeling loved, truly loved, for the first time in her life. Not just by Alex but by God Almighty, her Father in heaven. Who promised to never abandon her. Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten that. She had forgotten that no matter what happened, God was with her and had a plan, and that all things would work out for good in the end.

  “But what about all those who died?” She pushed from Alex and stared at what was left of Port Royal. “Didn’t God love them?”

  “Of course,” Alex said, his voice tightening in pain. “He may have tried to get them to safety. Mayhap they didn’t listen. Mayhap, it was their time. I don’t know.”

  A morbid scream echoed across the bay. Juliana made out the figure of a woman and child climbing onto the roof of a home. “We must go to the survivors, help those we can.”

  Alex nodded. “Aye, I’m of the same mind.”