The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  Richard Ackon leapt down the foredeck ladder and thrust the telescope into Nathaniel’s hand. Raising it, he surveyed the approaching craft. Fury knotted in his back when Gavin Keese came into view. “Man the swivel!”

  Ackon looked dazed. “Cap’n?”

  “You heard me. The swivel gun.” Nathaniel lowered the glass and slapped it across his palm.

  “Are we to shoot an unarmed man?” His first mate’s voice heightened.

  Nathaniel would like nothing better. “You are mistaken, Ackon. This man comes with all guns loaded. Trouble is, he hides his weapons well.” Nathaniel had been so distraught over Hope, he hadn’t taken time to ponder Gavin’s betrayal. Naught but one of Falkland’s minions. Memories surged into eruptions of rage as he remembered all the times Gavin had indeed come between Hope and Nathaniel. And all the while, pretending to be Nathaniel’s friend.

  “Gregson, Matten, load the swivel,” Ackon bellowed.

  “Aye, sir.” Two men scrambled to the gun mounted amidships on the railing and began loading it as Gavin continued to row toward them.

  “Ready, Cap’n,” Matten announced.

  “Fire on my command.” Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “But do not hit him.”

  “Do not hit him, Cap’n?” Gregson scratched his head, and a wave of disappointment soured his features.

  “That’s what I said.” Nathaniel glanced back at Gavin. “Fire!”

  The men lit the fuse, and the swivel exploded in a thunderous boom. The ball splashed inches from Gavin’s boat, dousing him with a spray of seawater. An obscenity drifted to them on the wind, but he continued rowing, more energetically than ever.

  Nathaniel coughed and batted away the acrid smoke. “Load another shot.” The men worked furiously to remove the breech, swab the barrel, and load another round, but before too long, Gavin had brought his craft within earshot of the ship and too close to be fired upon.

  “Sink me, Nathaniel, what are you trying to do?” Gavin’s indignant voice rose from the small boat.

  Nathaniel leaned over the railing. “Precisely,” he shouted. “Now take your leave, or I will sink you, Mr. Keese.”

  “I must speak to you.” Gavin sent up a look of humble appeal.

  “I’ve heard all I care to hear from you.” Nathaniel growled. “Now be gone with you.”

  The boat thudded against the hull. “Permission to board, Captain?”

  “Nay.” Nathaniel turned toward Ackon, whose brows wrinkled. “Shoot him if he tries to board,” Nathaniel shouted, ensuring Gavin was duly warned.

  “Egad, man, I have information you must know.”

  Nathaniel rubbed his left side and paced before the bulwark. Perhaps he should hear the man out. Perhaps he had news of Hope. Perhaps she was hurt. He leaned over the side, battling the rage churning inside him at the sight of the charlatan whom he had once called friend. A twinge of guilt pricked his soul. He was supposed to love his enemies, not hate them.

  “Come up,” he shouted, then stood back as Gavin climbed the ropes and leapt with ease over the railing, the usual cavalier smirk missing from his boyish face. Freshly shaven and clad in a white shirt and dark breeches, leather boots, and a black cravat, he no longer looked the part of the madcap he so often played.

  Nathaniel planted his fists on his waist. “Out with it.”

  “In private.” Gavin raised his brows and glanced around at Nathaniel’s crew, who closed in on the newcomer, no doubt expecting an altercation.

  Nathaniel gestured to the foredeck, and then he followed Gavin up the ladder and to the bow, dismissing the few sailors who loitered about.

  Eyeing his one-time friend, Nathaniel tried to quell the fury gripping every muscle, the urge to pummel the man into dust. He would hear him out first.

  Gavin shifted his boots over the deck, then met Nathaniel’s gaze. “Nice ship. You built it?”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “Nathaniel. I deceived you. I don’t blame you for trying to blast me out of the water.” He chuckled, but the smile slipped from his face beneath Nathaniel’s glare.

  “I trusted you. I called you my friend.” Nathaniel grimaced.

  Gavin swallowed. “I didn’t know you. I didn’t know Hope when I agreed to do the deed.” He shrugged. “It sounded like an amusing diversion. I meant you no harm.”

  “What is it you want, Gavin? I’m a busy man.”

  “I gave Falkland his money back. I’m no longer his first mate.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “It wasn’t right. What I did.” Gavin ran a hand over the back of his neck and gazed out upon the bay. “You changed me.”

  “Me?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. What was the man up to now? Was this another trick of Falkland’s?

  “Aye. You are so honorable, so good—even to those who do you harm. You always do the right thing.” Gavin huffed as if he found the qualities frustrating.

  “Not always.” Nathaniel thought of his obsession with Hope. It had never been the right thing to pursue her.

  Seagulls flapped overhead, squawking.

  “Despite every effort to the contrary, I found my respect growing for you daily.” Gavin jerked his hair behind him and leveled a sincere gaze upon Nathaniel. “My friendship was real.”

  “Friends don’t lie to each other.” Nathaniel looked away. The sound of water purling against the hull did naught to ease the acid fermenting in his stomach.

  “I know.” Gavin gripped a halyard and shook his head. “Then the miracle of Hope’s healing. All this talk of God, and Captain Poole.” Gavin’s laughter came out a bitter chord. “Do you know I always wanted to be a pirate?” He grinned. “And then this notorious pirate advises me against it. Not only that, he pours his affections upon Abigail. Sink me, a woman of God?” Gavin snorted. “I could not understand it. You represent everything I loathed: rules, integrity, honor, religion, piety. Everything I avoided my whole life. But I found I admired them. Egad, I actually admired them.”

  Nathaniel studied Gavin, searching for a breach in his guileless soliloquy, wondering what purpose this confession would serve.

  “I now know these things make a man strong, make him good. They give a man a higher purpose than serving himself. And after Falkland gave me the money and I went back to his ship, I realized I no longer want to live without them.”

  Nathaniel looked up, half expecting a storm cloud to form and lightning to strike Gavin for such blatant lies. Only the crisp blue sky stared back at him, dotted with the usual billowing clouds.

  Gavin scratched the whiskers lining his jaw. “I don’t expect you to believe me. But after I came to know you ... and Miss Hope, I—”

  “You did your job well coming between us.” Nathaniel rubbed sweat from his forehead and marched toward the railing. “Of course, Miss Hope gives her affections so freely, the task could not have been too difficult or unpleasant.”

  Gavin approached Nathaniel. “That is another matter I have come to clear up. I lied to you regarding Miss Hope.”

  “What is one lie among so many?”

  “Nay, you misunderstand. She never gave herself to me.”

  “What are you saying?” Nathaniel’s gaze snapped to his. Despite his suspicion of everything Gavin said, a spark of hope lit within him.

  “I lured her on deck under the pretense Miss Elise was in need of her. I knew you would see us.” Gavin stared at the deck by his boots.

  “So you didn’t?” Nathaniel clutched his arm. “She didn’t?”

  “Nay.” Gavin shook his head and grinned. “Not that I didn’t try. Truth be told, in all my pretending, and despite my promise to Falkland, I became quite enamored with her. But when I declared my love and tried to seduce her, she spurned me. Gave me some balderdash about loving you and never giving herself to a man who wasn’t her husband.”

  Releasing Gavin, Nathaniel gripped the railing and glanced over the bay, though he saw naught but a blur of blues, greens, and browns. He face
d Gavin. “So you never?”

  “Sink me, man, are you daft? That is what I’m trying to tell you. Her affections have always been for you and you alone.”

  Hope hadn’t betrayed Nathaniel. Agony tumbled through him. He’d treated her so horribly on the ship, rejected her so cruelly. His throat burned, and he clamped his fingers on the wood until they ached. But she had betrayed God. “What does it matter? She chose Falkland.”

  “Is that what you think?” Gavin chuckled. “Then you are not only daft but mad as well.” He gave Nathaniel an accusatory look. “I don’t know what spell Falkland may have cast on Hope, but from the way she was behaving on his ship, I don’t think she was at all pleased to be there.”

  Nathaniel’s mind spun, trying to grasp Gavin’s words. He stepped back. “In what manner was she behaving?”

  “Miserable, heartsick, more like a prisoner than a lover.”

  Miserable? But why? Nathaniel could think of no explanation other than that Hope had gone with Falkland unwillingly. But why would she do such a thing?

  “Did you hear me?” Gavin asked.

  “Aye, and I cannot believe it.”

  “You are quite a pair.” Gavin chuckled. “Neither one of you believes the other’s love when it’s plain as a white sail against a dark sky to the rest of us.”

  “Which one is Falkland’s ship?” Nathaniel stormed across the deck.

  “He set sail last night.”

  Nathaniel spun on his heels. “For where?”

  “Charles Towne.”

  “Lay aloft, yardman. Lay out and loose the sails!” Nathaniel barked to his crew. “I must speak to her,” he shot over his shoulder toward Gavin.

  Gavin’s boots pounded behind him. “His ship is well armed. Twelve guns, not counting his swivels. You have only two.” He caught Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I doubt Falkland will grant you an audience with her. He will fight you. And you will lose.”

  Nathaniel faced Gavin. “I cannot let her go without knowing her reason.” He scanned the bay. “Where can I get a well-armed ship?”

  “Why not the Enchantress?” Gavin grinned.

  “Captain Poole sailed yesterday. I watched him leave.”

  “Aye, but I have it on good authority he’s anchored around the bend in a hidden cove.” Gavin lifted a brow.

  Even if they found Poole, Nathaniel wondered if he’d be able to convince the self-serving pirate to help him find Hope. But what choice did he have?

  “Then let’s pay him a visit, shall we?”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Ah, and to what do I owe the pleasure of yer company this fine evening?” Captain Poole failed to rise from his seat behind a desk that looked more like driftwood than a piece of furniture. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his booted feet atop the wooden slab that was home to sundry charts and maps, a set of brass flintlock pistols, a near-empty bottle of rum, two flickering candles, and, oddly, a fiddle.

  The pirate who had escorted Gavin and Nathaniel below waved them inside, showering them with the rancid odor of his unwashed body.

  “Miss me so soon, Mr. Mason?” Captain Poole took a bite out of an apple.

  “We have a business proposition, Captain.” Nathaniel glanced over the cabin, a room he’d not been permitted to enter on his last voyage aboard the Enchantress. Besides the desk and the chair on which Captain Poole sat, two high-backed leather chairs littered the center of the room. An open chest filled with weapons gleamed as brightly as the row of trophy swords lining the wall, and a cannon stood guard at the foot of a bed on the starboard side.

  Captain Poole grunted. “Well, I hope ’tis a better proposition than the last one. What did I get for me trouble escortin’ ye to Kingstown? Naught but one of His Majesty’s ships sharp on me tail.”

  “Major Paine,” Gavin uttered beneath his breath and plopped down into one of the chairs.

  “Yet I see you have managed to evade them,” Nathaniel said.

  “Would ye expect any less?” The pirate grinned. “I’m Captain Poole, after all.” He took another bite of his apple and tossed it across the room. It landed in a barrel with a precision that defied the rum-induced glaze across his eyes. “But how did ye find me?”

  Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest and replied in a waggish tone, “I’m Captain Mason, after all.”

  A faint smirk took residence on the captain’s mouth, followed by a deep chuckle. Slamming his boots down onto the deck, he stood, grabbed the bottle of rum, and took a swig.

  “Well, out with it. What be yer business?”

  “I need your ship.”

  A shower of rum sprayed from the captain’s lips, and Nathaniel jumped back to avoid getting wet. The pungent scent of alcohol stung his nose.

  “And how d’ye propose to take it from me?” A sharp challenge skipped across Poole’s dark eyes.

  “I don’t propose to take it at all, Captain.” Nathaniel rubbed his chin, praying the rum would put the captain in a fair mood instead of a more belligerent one, as it did most men. “I am no pirate. I simply wish to borrow it, along with you and your crew.”

  “Borrow, ye say.” Captain Poole cocked his head. “And what be yer purpose?”

  “To find Miss Hope.” Nathaniel clenched his jaw. Lord, please soften this pirate’s heart. Please make him agree.

  “Miss Hope?” Captain Poole circled the desk. “The fair mistress with the hair of gold? Yer wife?”

  Nathaniel swallowed. Amidst all the stress, he’d forgotten their ruse. “I must beg your forgiveness. She is not my wife.”

  “A truer word ain’t ne’er been spoke.” Captain Poole chortled. “D’ye take me fer a fool, Mr. Mason? I knew it all along.” He fingered the pistol on his desk, and Nathaniel wondered if he intended to shoot him for his deception. But then Captain Poole’s gaze drifted to the thick darkness outside the stern window, and for a moment, he seemed to get lost in it. “And why does yer fair lass need findin’?”

  “She may have been taken against her will.” The sound of the words ignited an urgency within Nathaniel.

  “By Lord Falkland,” Gavin said. “They are headed for Charles Towne.”

  “A lord, eh?” Captain Poole spit to the side, his dark eyes shifting between them. “But ye’ve got a ship, don’t ye, Mason?”

  Gavin stood. “Lord Falkland’s ship is heavily armed.”

  Captain Poole eyed Nathaniel. “And yers isn’t, I take it.”

  Nathaniel shook his head.

  “Heavily armed, ye say.” The pirate scratched the stubble on his chin. “Which means he’s got somethin’ worth stealin’ aboard.”

  “That he does,” Gavin said. “A belly full of goods he intends to sell at Charles Towne.”

  At the mention of the wealth, Poole’s face lit up.

  Nathaniel shifted his stance and fisted his hands at his sides. “Don’t start salivating over the treasure. If you agree to our plan, you cannot plunder his ship.”

  Captain Poole jerked back as if Nathaniel had hit him. “Of course I can. I’ve done it many a time before.”

  “I have no doubt.” Nathaniel sighed. “What I meant to say was that I cannot allow you to steal anything nor to take the ship as prize.” Though Nathaniel would do almost anything to speak with Hope, he would not break God’s law.

  “Cannot allow?” Captain Poole’s brow furrowed into a jumble of lines as if no one ever dared tell him such a thing. “Are ye tired of yer life? If ye dare to hire a pirate, ye cannot expect him not to pirate.”

  Nathaniel glanced at Gavin, who shrugged his agreement with Poole. Untying the pouch at his side, Nathaniel tossed it to the captain, who caught it in midair. “Here is your pay for the deed, Captain. But I cannot in good conscience be a part of thievery.”

  “Ah, there’s yer problem.” Captain Poole gave a mischievous grin. “Ye must rid yerself of that good conscience.”

  “By God’s good grace, that will never happen.”

  “Hummph.” The captain eyed Nathanie
l with disdain then opened the pouch and poured the coins onto his desk. Clinks and clanks echoed through the cabin as the glittering pile grew into a gold and silver mound. “So allow me to get a clear understandin’.” Tossing the empty pouch down, Poole clasped his hands behind his back, the silver trim on his velvet coat glimmering in the candlelight. “Ye want me to attack this Lord Falkland’s ship, but I can’t sink ’er, can’t pillage ’er, can’t steal ’er, and all I’ll be gettin’ is this measly bag of coin?”

  “That is the way of it, yes, Captain.” Nathaniel tried to keep his voice calm and his tone commanding, all the while praying for God’s grace to change this pirate’s heart.

  Grabbing the rum bottle, Captain Poole took another gulp and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I’ve got to hand it to ye, Mason. Ye’ve got pluck.” He chuckled. “The pluck o’ a pirate, to be sure.”

  “The money is all I have, Captain. But it’s yours if you’ll help me.”

  “Not all ye have.” His dark eyes glinted greed.

  Nathaniel shook his head. Had the rum gone to the man’s head? What else could he mean?

  Captain Poole’s brows lifted. “I believe ye own a ship?”

  ***

  Hope paced across the captain’s cabin, wringing her hands. Soon Falkland would join her, as he always did this time of the evening. So far, he’d been a gentleman, but behind his docile facade, impatience simmered in his eyes. He was not a man accustomed to rejection, and she’d seen him unleash his cruel temper many a time on those who dared to cross him.

  Three miserable days had passed. Although she’d been treated like nobility, given the run of the ship, and fed like a queen, Hope much preferred to be locked in the hold than to face Lord Falkland’s constant advances. Her thoughts drifted to Nathaniel, as they always did, and she wondered how he fared. Was he on his way back to Charles Towne? Did he think of her, and if he did, were his thoughts consumed with only his poor opinion of her character? But how could she blame him? He believed she’d betrayed him with Gavin, and now he must believe she had rushed back to her old ways. No doubt he was glad to be rid of her.