The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  The ship lurched, and he steadied Abigail. “What of you? You must be excited to start your adventure in Kingstown.”

  But fear, not excitement, flickered in her eyes.

  Four pirates swarmed around them, Kreggs and Hanson among them. The other two he recognized as the men he’d spoken to about God a few nights prior.

  “Mr. Mason.” Kreggs spat to the side and scratched his stained shirt. “Jones and Boone got somethin’ ye should hear fer yerself.”

  Nathaniel turned to the other men, noting an unusual glow in their expressions even beneath the hard crust of sunburn and months of unwashed dirt. The stench of unwashed bodies stung his nose, but clear eyes, devoid of red streaks and the usual rum-induced haze, met his.

  Jones shifted his feet over the deck and rubbed the scar around his neck. “What ye said the other night about God made sense t’ us.”

  Nathaniel’s heart leapt. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  Abigail gripped his arm. He could feel excitement rippling through her.

  Jones crossed his arms over his chest. “We gave our lives o’er to yer God. And we is determined t’ change our ways an’ become good men.”

  Abigail clasped her hands. “Praise God!”

  Nathaniel blinked, allowing the shocking revelation to make its way into his reason. Gave their lives to God? These pirates? “All of you?”

  “Aye.” Kreggs and Hanson nodded. “Us, too.”

  Nathaniel took Hanson by the shoulders and shook him then clutched the other men in turn. “This is wonderful news!”

  Jones’s face reddened. Boone’s eyes grew wide, and he stiffened beneath Nathaniel’s touch. Kreggs and Hanson chuckled nervously. They each took a step away from Nathaniel as if he’d gone mad. Mad indeed. The best kind of mad. The seeds God had given him that night had landed on good soil, hearts willing to believe and to humbly submit to God. “Fire and thunder, I am most pleased!” He scratched his head and chuckled so loudly, it drew the attention of the other pirates hard at work.

  “We want t’ thank ye for openin’ our eyes.” Hanson scanned his fellow converts, receiving their affirming nods. “We felt the presence of yer God when we asked ’im to show Hisself.”

  “Not my God. Our God,” Nathaniel said, then smiled at Abigail, whose eyes sparkled with delight. “Everyone’s God. The only God.”

  “Aye,” they shouted in unison.

  An urgency swept through Nathaniel, and he silently prayed for wisdom. “You must read God’s Word and speak with Him daily. Promise me you’ll do that.”

  “Aye.” Jones glanced at the others. “We will.”

  Nathaniel cast a quick look toward Captain Poole standing by the helm. “But what of your pirating?”

  “We just told Cap’n Poole we be leavin’ the ship in Kingstown.” Boone gripped his baldric with both hands and grinned, an expression devoid of most of his teeth, but the most wonderful smile Nathaniel had seen.

  As if on cue, the captain barreled toward them, a scowl on his face. Nathaniel braced himself for the rash man’s temper, but instead of lashing them with his tongue, he halted in their midst and raised a supercilious brow toward Nathaniel.

  “And I’ll be thankin’ ye to be gettin’ off the ship, too, Mr. Mason, before ye convert me whole crew an’ I’m left wit’ nothin’ but a ship full of pious ninnies.” Though his tone was harsh, the twinkle in his eye spoke otherwise. “That won’t bode well for pillagin’ and plunderin’.” He let out a coarse chuckle, and his gaze landed on Abigail and softened.

  “I’ll be happy to leave your ship, Captain,” Nathaniel said. “Unless, of course, you would like to partake of the treasure these men have found?”

  “Treasure! D’ye take me for a fool? Nay, I’m seekin’ me own kind of treasure.” His hard gaze scoured the men. “But yer still me pirates until we weigh anchor. Get back to work, ye maggots!” he barked, sending the men scampering off. His dark eyes took in Abigail before he sauntered back to his spot by the foredeck railing.

  Beaming, Abigail clutched Nathaniel’s arm. “Nathaniel, did I not tell you that you have the gift of evangelism? See the impact you have had on these men—hardened sailors and pirates all?”

  Truth be told, he had been exhilarated that night when he had spoken to the pirates about God. As if his heart and tongue had been on fire.

  “Do not deny the calling of God,” she added.

  “Perhaps He has blessed me not with a gift, but a calling.” Nathaniel shook his head. “You do not know from whence I came.”

  “But I can see where you should be going.” Abigail gave him a sideways glance and patted his arm. “Follow your heart, Nathaniel.” She released him and turned toward Captain Poole standing at the foredeck railing, staring out upon the fast-approaching island.

  A flash of blue drew Nathaniel’s eyes to the main deck where Hope had reemerged from the companionway. Without Gavin. Nathaniel’s elation of moments ago sank back into despair, and he turned around and leapt up into the ratlines before she could spot him. Although he wanted with all his heart to believe otherwise, he could not deny what he’d seen or what Gavin had confirmed. For why would his friend lie? There was no other explanation but that Hope had not changed after all.

  Although Nathaniel intended to confront her, he could not face her, not yet. The pain of her betrayal was too raw, too fresh. Had all her talk of God and doing His will been naught but a ruse? A lie? But for what purpose? Nathaniel hoisted himself into the shrouds and made his way up to the mizzen yard. How quickly she had fallen back into her old ways. And only hours after she had kissed him—and so passionately. He rubbed his lips, trying to rid himself of the memory, but instead heat swept through him.

  Angered at his reaction, he inched his way across the yard, battling both the fierce wind blasting over him and the anguish storming within him. A creamy, bubbling wake gushed from the ship’s stern, reminding Nathaniel of the joy he’d felt last night with Hope in his arms, but the swirling foam soon faded into the sea. The ship plunged over a roller, and he gripped the mizzen stay to keep his balance, still finding it difficult to believe he sailed aboard a pirate ship. The pirate ship Enchantress—appropriately named for the cargo she carried.

  For that was what Hope was and always would be—an enchantress.

  ***

  Abigail eased toward Captain Poole. In between shouting orders to his men, he seemed to settle into a trance—deep in thought and heavy laden with sorrow. Though they had conversed often since their time in his cabin, the captain had not questioned her further on God, and whenever she had broached the subject, he abruptly ended the conversation.

  She followed his gaze to the growing mound of land and knew she hadn’t much more time with this daring pirate. “Captain Poole, I hope you have given some thought to our discussion night before last.” Abigail studied him. His stubbled jaw flinched, and he rubbed a rough hand over his chin. Planting his fists upon his waist, he braced himself against a gust of wind that fluttered the blue plume atop his tricorn.

  “I have thought on it, aye,” he said with finality.

  “That pleases me.” Abigail laid a hand on his arm. His brooding eyes met hers, and she smiled.

  The roughened skin of his face softened. “That I have pleased ye warms me down to me soul, miss.”

  The snap of the Union Jack sounded from above, a disguise of the true nature of the ship. “Do you fear sailing into Kingstown?”

  “Fear?” He jerked his head back and chuckled. “Fear never enters a pirate’s head, nor his heart, or he’ll be lost forever. Nay, I don’t fear it.”

  “Then what has you so vexed?”

  His brows rose, and amazement swept across his face. “How can ye know me so well when we have jest met?” He huffed. “Kingstown, ’tis yer final destination?”

  “Yes, I am to join a missionary there. A friend of my father’s.” Even as Abigail spoke the words, dread pinched her chest, and she bit her lip.

  “Man the yard
s!” the captain shouted, sending pirates leaping into the shrouds. Abigail gripped the railing as the ship bucked over a wave. Spread out before her glistened a pool of azure blue. Right in the middle sat the island of Jamaica. Menacing. Waiting to devour her.

  “Now I must ask ye, what has ye so vexed?” Captain Poole covered her hand on the railing, and although propriety and the dozens of eyes around them demanded she remove hers, his touch brought her more comfort than she cared to admit.

  “Is it so obvious?” She brushed her hair from her forehead. “My parents were brutally murdered on Antigua—by the very people they were there to help.” Abigail swallowed. “I found them butchered in their bed.”

  A twinge of sympathy rose in Captain Poole’s eyes, and he squeezed her hand. “’Tis a cruel world, miss.”

  “Every time I think of it, fear consumes me—fear I will end up with the same fate.”

  “Humph.” Captain Poole doffed his hat, and the wind whipped his dark hair. “Did you not say that this God o’ yers loves ye beyond measure and will protect ye?”

  Abigail released a startled gasp. “You were listening.”

  “To every word that comes forth from that pretty mouth.” His dark eyes swept over her lips before he faced the sea again. “And if ye do meet yer death, d’ye not believe to be goin’ to a far better place?”

  Abigail nodded, stunned at his words.

  “Then what’s t’ fear?” He plopped his hat back atop his head and shrugged as if that settled the matter.

  Guilt and joy battled within Abigail. Guilt for her lack of faith and joy that this wicked man understood everything she had told him about God.

  She smiled. “You have put me to shame with your faith, Captain.”

  “Faith? Perish and plague me. ’Tis yer faith we speak of, not mine. My faith is in me ship, me men, and me skill as a gentleman o’ fortune.”

  “Flighty things to lay your hat upon, to be sure.”

  He narrowed his eyes upon her, and for a moment, she thought she had angered him. “’Tis enough fer me.” His black hair fluttered against his coat as he shifted his shoulders.

  Abigail stared at the powerful hand still covering hers. “I hope someday you will find it lacking.”

  “D’ye now?” He grinned, his earring mirroring his mirth. “And if I do, do I have yer permission to seek ye out?”

  A rush of warmth sped up Abigail’s neck, and she shifted her gaze to the glittering blue waves. He brushed his thumb over her hand.

  “Perhaps I misspoke.” He removed his hand from hers and stared out to sea.

  “Nay.” Abigail took back his hand, her heart convulsing. Against everything she knew to be right, against all her inclinations, she had formed an undeniable attachment to this man—this pirate. “I would be most pleased to see you again.”

  Captain Poole’s handsome lips curved upward, and he placed a kiss upon her hand. “Then I think ’tis fair to warn ye to be on the lookout, miss. For ye’ll never know when Captain Poole may drop anchor in Kingstown again.”

  ***

  As the island of Jamaica loomed larger, dread loomed in Hope’s heart. Nathaniel had been avoiding her all day, just as he had done so many times before, just as if they had not declared their love for one another, just as if they had not embraced so passionately in their cabin below.

  After discovering Mr. Hendrick had not summoned her and chastising Gavin for his deception, Hope had returned on deck to seek out Nathaniel, only to find him sixty feet above her, clinging to the mizzen royal yard.

  But he would have to come down sometime, and then she would discover the cause of his odd behavior. Perhaps the uneasiness bubbling in her stomach was only a result of her own insecurities. She had done naught to anger him. Then why did a sense of dread clench her heart? Perhaps he had come to his senses and changed his mind about her during the long night. She couldn’t blame him. Why would he want to associate with a woman whose past indicated a propensity to become just like his mother?

  She squared her shoulders into the wind and tried to prepare her heart for his rejection, but for now she would enjoy the sight of land: the way the white sandy beaches swooped up to meet lush aquamarine mountains rising toward the blue sky, and the circle of emerald trees that now began to take shape as the ship soared over the waves toward them.

  “Lay aloft and furl the topsail!” Captain Poole shouted as the wind caught the sails in a keen snap. Soon they rounded a corner of the island, and a long, narrow headland came into view, forming a natural fortress in front of Kingstown Harbor. Beyond it, ships rocked at anchor in the bay. Was Nathaniel’s ship there? She hoped so, for then they could return to Charles Towne, and home, as soon as possible. Haphazard buildings dotted the lower hills of the bustling port town while people as small as ants scrambled to and fro. Civilization.

  The thud of feet upon the deck alerted her, and she spun around to see the top of Nathaniel’s head disappearing down the main hatch. Within minutes, he emerged with Major Paine, dragging the pale man over to the railing. Squinting in the sun, the major’s eyes shot to hers, but a hollow glaze had replaced the impudent spark within them. He drew a deep breath, exhaling it in ragged gasps, and gripped the railing before his thin frame folded over it beneath the next plunge of the ship.

  Nathaniel gave him a look of warning and, without a glance at Hope, turned to leave.

  Before Hope could call to him, Elise barreled into her. “Miss Hope. Miss Hope,” she squealed.

  Kneeling, Hope took the little girl in her arms and relished the exuberance of her embrace, the swishy sound of her gown, and the sweet smell of her innocence. “Hello, Elise, how have you been?”

  “I’ve missed you, Miss Hope. ’Tis been so dull sitting with Father all day.”

  Brushing dust from his silk waistcoat as if it weren’t a tattered and torn remnant of its former glory, Mr. Hendrick scowled in her direction. His once-handsome face fared no better than his waistcoat, its normal ruddiness faded to a gaunt ashen shade, further marred by the jagged wound across his cheek. No wonder Hope had seen so little of him on the voyage. The seasickness he’d sworn only women succumbed to apparently had dealt him a humbling blow.

  Hope smiled at Elise. “No doubt your father needed your care.”

  The little girl nodded, sending her red curls bobbing. “I took good care of him.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Hope kissed her forehead and stood, pressing the girl protectively to her side.

  A glance across the ship told her Nathaniel was nowhere in sight. Abigail stood beside Captain Poole, both of them deep in conversation. Hope shook her head. If she didn’t know Abigail better, it would appear the pious woman had become fond of the crusty pirate. Behind them, Gavin hovered with a group of pirates, laughing and partaking of their rum as if he’d been a part of the crew all his life. Hope wanted to be angry at him for his recent deceptions. Their purpose made no sense to her, other than playful antics. But how could she harbor anger toward a man she would most likely never see again after they reached Kingstown? In many ways, they were alike; in other ways, completely different, especially now that she’d given her life to Christ. But Gavin’s interest in her, mischievous as it was, had soothed her pain through difficult times as well as endeared him to her heart. She would miss him.

  Hope patted Elise’s head as the girl stared toward Jamaica. “We shall soon be on land again. Won’t that be nice?”

  Elise’s blue eyes shone with her unspoken answer.

  “Come here, Elise,” her father barked, and the little girl’s expression faded. With one last glance at Hope, she shuffled to where her father stood by the capstan.

  Turning, Hope leaned on the railing and watched the steady rush of water against the hull. The gurgle played a soothing tone in her ears, helping to allay her fears for the young girl. Oh Lord. Please be with Elise. Don’t let her grow up unloved like I was. Protect her. Let her know early on how much You love her.

  “Ease away the sheet.
Haul up to leeward!” Captain Poole’s commands echoed across the ship, and the thunder of flapping sails being lowered brought Hope’s gaze to the marshy headland barricading Kingstown Harbor. The noon sun set the bay sparkling like ripples of diamonds as a dozen tall ships drifted majestically among the turquoise waters. Beads of perspiration formed on the back of Hope’s neck and began sliding beneath her gown. How she longed for a bath and a fresh change of clothes.

  Movement caught the corner of her eye. Nathaniel approached the foredeck railing. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the ladder, her heart clamoring in her chest.

  “Good day, Nathaniel.” Her palms dampened as she slipped beside him.

  He did not so much as glance her way. Dread consumed her.

  “Are you ill?”

  “Nay, I feel quite well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. A breeze swirled around him, fluttering his wavy hair across the top of his shirt.

  Hope raised a hand to her throat to still her throbbing pulse. “What is the matter?”

  “I said I am quite well.” The tone of his voice sliced through her heart.

  “Nay, I mean...” She took a breath and forced back the burning behind her eyes. “I mean, why are you behaving this way?”

  “And what way is that, Miss Hope?” He finally looked at her, and the anger searing in his gaze sent her reeling back a step.

  She looked down. “I thought ... I thought we had...” The words caught in her throat. She grabbed a lock of her hair. “In our cabin.”

  “Indeed, so did I.”

  “What has changed?”

  “You tell me.” He stared down at her as if he were a magistrate and she on trial for murder.

  Hope shook her head. “Tell you what? I don’t understand.”

  “Last night?” Nathaniel raised his brow. “I saw you on deck.” He looked away as if the sight of her made him ill. “With Gavin. In quite a compromising position, I might add.”