by Lisa Olech
After grabbing another shirt from his gear in the crew’s quarters, Ric climbed back into the bright late morning sun on deck. The docking lines were being tossed back over the rails and the lower sails set. Tupper stood at the helm ready to navigate the Scarlet Night out of the busy harbor. Once beyond the crowd of ships anchored off shore, they could raise the mainsail and catch the wind.
Bump stood alongside Tupper. Lad looked worried. He held his hands palms up, fingers moving. “Wait.” He and Tupper over the years had developed their own way of communicating using hand gestures and fingering letters to spell words. Ric learned a few words as well, but Bump and Tupper “spoke” far too fast at times for him to follow.
Tupper patted his shoulder and made a small gesture. “We’ll return soon.”
Bump frowned and hurried to the back of the ship.
Ric jerked his chin in the boy’s direction. “What’s his problem?”
“He wants us to wait for Gavin.”
“He and Fin Willy could be settling the sale for hours yet.”
“More. Neo’s gone to tell him to take his time. Even so, every second Beauchamp’s daughter is on this ship makes me nervous. Let’s do this and get back before Fin Willy runs out of brandy.”
“Be a good thing if he does. Capt’n’ll be in a fair mood. Else it’ll be my tail hangin’ from the crow’s nest come mornin.’”
“Better yours than mine.” Tupper negotiated a final ship anchored on the edge of the harbor. “Give White and Summer a hand hoisting the main.”
Once secured, the wide stretch of canvas caught the wind with a snap. Jocelyn appeared at his side. She turned eyes the color of rich dark rum toward the sky.
“Won’t be any time at all, and ye’ll be back on yer way,” Ric reassured her.
She lowered her gaze and fixed it upon him. Twists of dark hair teased across her full lips. The harsh Caribbean sun had pinked the paleness of her skin high across each cheek, down the gentle sweep of her nose, and kissed the tender tops of her shoulders.
His shirt looked a far sight better on her than a torn chemise, but its wide neck still bared those lovely shoulders and revealed a tempting amount of shadowy cleavage as well. She’d caught the voluminous fabric beneath her corset to allow the hems to ride loose over the curve of her modest skirts.
Good thing their time together would be short. She was too tempting, too chaste. Ric Robbins may be a pirate and a confirmed rogue, but he drew the line at an innocent with a father that would disembowel him before he hung him should he dare to touch his daughter.
“The sun’s strong today. Best you keep to the shade where ye ken.” Ric pointed toward the shadowy overhang of the upper deck.
“I--”
A rumble of thunder rolled through the air as the ship trembled beneath them.
“What the….? There ain’t a cloud in the sky. Where…?” Ric looked back toward Tupper. She, too, was checking the sky.
All at once, another round of thunder roared louder behind them. The Scarlet Night slammed hard into something, tossing everyone off their feet. Ric and Jocelyn both flew forward and landed in a heap together against the bulkhead. Once more Ric’s body shielded hers, but he was too shaken to pause long enough to enjoy it. He pushed away from her.
“What the hell did we hit?” Ric shouted.
White and Summer rushed to the bow and looked over the rails. There were no rocks or reefs on this side of the island.
Before he could scramble to his feet, a fierce rush of water past the hull seemed to pull them farther out toward open water as if the ship were being sucked away from the land and spit into the ocean. It tossed Ric and Jocelyn in the opposite direction as the thundering roar continued behind them. From where they fell, Ric could see the others on deck hanging on to rigging, bracing themselves against the jerking motion of the ship.
But then Ric heard them. Screams. Reaching out toward the Scarlet Night across the waves. He had little time to think before a great swell of water heading back toward the land caught the bow of the ship and tossed her about as if she were a child’s toy.
Around him, everyone struggled to get to their feet. Tupper stood clutching at her forehead. Blood ran between her fingers and down her arm.
Ric looked back in horror at the swollen swell of seawater that grew into a monstrous wave as it reached the shallower waters of the harbor. Beyond, an ominous red cloud rose above Port Royal.
He grabbed for the closest eyeglass, and with shaking hands held it to his eye. It wouldn’t focus. Where was the city? He couldn’t see anything through the rusted mist. Turning the glass in the direction of the tallest buildings, he couldn’t find them. The screams suddenly silenced as a wall of seawater obliterated his view and seemed to swallow Port Royal whole.
Ric couldn’t believe what was happening. The vision before him punched all the air from his lungs. He lowered the glass and covered his eyes with a hand hoping to blot the scene from his mind. It couldn’t be.
Tupper wrenched the glass from his hands. “What’s happening? Oh dear God….”
They all rushed into the stern. Hornbach and Dowd emerged from below. Everyone spoke at once. MacTavish was the last to arrive. “Bloody hell, what the fuk?”
“Earthquake…” someone muttered. “Must have been an earthquake. Triggered the wave.”
Tupper dropped the brass. “I can’t see anything. We have to go back.”
Ric lifted the glass to take another look. The gruesome images he could make out through the cloud of debris defied description. Everything that had once been was no more. Buildings, shops, ships in the harbor…. It was all gone. The city seemed to have vanished. In a matter of minutes, Port Royal had been wiped away.
“Turn about,” Tupper screamed. “Someone turn this damn ship around.”
“Tupper, no.” Ric grabbed her arm. “There’s no use. It’s not safe. We can’t help them. I…it’s too late.” A deep heaviness had settled in his chest as he looked into her panicked face.
“What are you talking about? Turn this ship around!” She glared at them before shoving past Ric. “Bloody hell, I’ll do it myself.” She raced back to the ship’s large oak wheel and pulled it with all her might to one side.
Ric caught up to her and righted the ship. “Tupper. Stop.”
“We’re going back.” She yanked again pulling it out of his grasp.
“There’s nothing to go back to!” He pointed behind them. “Look for yourself. The city isn’t there. Pulled down or flooded, there’s nothing left. Even if we could make it back, we can’t change what’s happened. It’s too late. If I thought there was a chance they survived…”
She grabbed his shirt in her fists. “Gavin is there. Neo. Finch. The rest of the bloody crew. We’re going back.”
“To what?” he yelled. “Where they were isn’t there anymore.” He stared into her wild eyes. Blood mixed with her tears and ran down her cheek. He gave her a shake. She had to listen to sense. “Tupper…they’re gone.”
“No,” She screamed and shoved him back before she returned to the wheel and forced the ship to begin its wide turn.
“Stop!” Ric pulled at her hands. “We can’t risk getting caught in another tidal wave in the harbor.”
Tupper wrenched away from him and straightened before pulling her pistol. She pointed the barrel at Ric’s face and cocked the hammer. Her chest rose and fell in shaky pants. “I said, we’re going back!”
Chapter 4
White and Summer pulled at the oars. MacTavish and Ric sat like stones in the rear of the skiff. The sights surrounding them defied description.
It was MacTavish who had convinced Tupper the Scarlet Night wouldn’t be able to get through the debris and carnage in the harbor, or what had been the harbor not an hour before. Tupper was past consolable. She would have dived off the fantail and swum back into the harbor had he not assured her the four of them would return to Port Royal--or where it had
been to see if they could find Captain Quinn and the rest.
They all knew it was a fool’s mission before they even got close. Gavin Quinn and those members of the crew unfortunate enough to be in the city when the earthquake hit, were dead. There was no chance they survived. What had been now sat beneath what must be forty feet of seawater judging by what was visible. Ships sitting at anchor now lay at the bottom of the sea. Mast tips and hulls beached like bloated whales along the surface of the water.
Bodies. Dozens of bodies floated silent among the debris. The sky still burned red.
“In all me years, I ain’t bloody well seen the like of this,” mumbled MacTavish.
“They never had a chance.” Ric looked for any signs of life among the victims in the water.
Soon the harbor became too choked with wreckage to get the skiff any closer. Ric used the eyeglass once more to scan the landscape. Nothing looked familiar. Any sign of buildings remaining looked as if they had simply dropped into the ground. Roofs and chimneys were all he could see.
The Rogue Wave wasn’t there. Neither was Auction Square. He couldn’t make out where the Barnacle once sat, or any evidence of the White Witch. What he did see were few survivors trying to dig corpses out of the ground. Some buried to their necks. Silent screams frozen on their faces. Limbs stuck out of the sand. Arms reaching for help, which didn’t come in time.
“There’s no use trying to get closer. Where we sit now is a good two lanes inland from where the docks stood.” White shook his head. “Any poor bastard closer to the shore is lost.”
Ric lowered the glass and rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
Summer took off his headcloth and held it over his heart. “Capt’n’s gone. They’ve all been swallowed up.”
“Bloody hell.” MacTavish scrubbed at his beard.
“I ain’t never gonna forget this as long as I live,” declared Summer.
What Ric would never forget was the look on Bump’s face. After Tupper had threatened to kill him on the spot if they didn’t turn around, Ric had seen him. The boy stood looking back toward shore. Not moving, not making even the smallest of sounds. His face a mask of pure grief. Tearless eyes stared in wide shock. His chin trembled with the effort of holding his emotions in check. He’d been the only one in the tail of the ship when the earthquake began. Had he seen what happened? Been witness to it all?
Unlike Tupper, Bump was not demanding they return. It was as if he knew. He knew he’d lost the man he loved like a father. The man who’d saved him from the very streets that now sat at the bottom of the sea.
Ric didn’t know what to do. He’d wanted to reach out to touch the boy but feared if he did, the lad would shatter like glass to the decking. So he stood with him in his silence. Looking out at a world forever changed until he was called to help the others lower the skiff.
“White, what the fuck ye think yer doin’?” MacTavish swore.
Ric lowered the glass as the skiff tipped to one side. White was leaning out trying to pull a sword from a scabbard. The last owner of said sword still wore the weapon, however.
“He ain’t gonna be needing it, and I broke the tip of me blade last fight.”
Repulsion spread through Ric. “Yer not stealing from a dead man.”
“Why the hell not? Wouldn’t be the first time.” He looked out over the water. “Fact, bet there be lots more to be had fer some enterprising sorts.”
“Not from these dead. Leave ‘em be.” Ric barked.
“Don’t see what difference it makes. Dead be dead.” White gave another tug on the sword.
“Ye let go of that weapon, or I’ll toss yer sorry arse in te join em.” MacTavish warned.
White released the sword’s hilt and flopped back onto the thwart. “Don’t be gettin’ yer hems in a flip, MacTavish. I don’t be answerin’ to you. Not you, either Robbins.” He wiped his hand on his britches.
Summer piped up, “Ye know, man’s got a point there. What we gonna do now? No Captain. No crew te speak of. Who do we be answering to?”
“Well that sure as hell ain’t gonna be settled by four scabs in a skiff. I say we get back to the Night, and mourn our dead ‘fore we go deciding something like that,” insisted Ric.
“Ain’t gonna want te be the one te break it te Tupper.” Summer shook his head.
White nodded in agreement. “Woman’s gonna be wrecked.”
“The boy, too,” added Summer as they began to slowly turn the skiff back toward the Scarlet Night.
“Bump ain’t a boy no more.” MacTavish grumbled. “Needs te face the truth of this like a man.”
They all had to face the truth of this like men. Ric looked back over the horror surrounding him and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. They’d all lost their captain. Friends. Crewmates. So many so quickly. “Good thing Bump had Captain Quinn to teach him. We were all lucky to serve under such a fine man.”
“Aye,” the word caught in MacTavish’s throat. The Scotsman tugged at the braids in his beard and sniffed.
“Aye,” White agreed before running the back of his hand under his nose and turning his attention back to the oar blade.
“None better.”
Summer’s words hung over them as they rowed in silence away from the devastation of Port Royal and back to their ship.
* * * *
Jocelyn stood stunned. She started to pray for Sister Bernadette but wasn’t sure exactly what to pray for. Was Port Royal another Sodom and Gomorrah? Had the Lord smitten it because of its sins? Had the devout Sister been delivered from evil? Did Jocelyn pray for Bernadette’s survival, or say a prayer of thanks for the mercy against such a pious woman being forced into her own living hell?
The scene on the deck of the Scarlet Night was surreal. Quiet, as if each remaining member of the crew held their breaths.
Ric and three others had moved quickly to lower a small boat to return to shore in search of any survivors amongst their fellow crewmates. “You’re safe here, I swear,” he assured her before he left. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The woman, Tupper, after her fit of panic was now urging one of the remaining men to stitch the gash along her forehead.
“Until Briggs comes back, you’re the surgeon, Hornbach, get on with it.”
The man stood holding a needle and thick thread in his shaky hand. “I be the cook. Only thing I be used to trussing is a turkey.”
“Weren’t ye assistant to Briggs? Ye had to have stitched a wound before,” reminded Tupper.
“Assistin’ Briggs meant I poured as much rum down their gullets as they could swallow before holdin’ the poor bastards down. He be the one doin’ all the cuttin’ and sewin.’ I just took care of the screamin’ end.” He pushed a bottle of rum at her.
“Forget the bloody rum. Pretend my head’s a blasted turkey, and do something ‘fore my stuffin’ falls out.” Tupper held her “stuffing” in with a bloodied cloth while Hornbach fussed to gather bandages and the other supplies he’d need.
“Dowd,” she hollered to the man standing watch at the rear of the ship. “Any sign of them?”
“Not yet. Hard to see.”
Next to him, standing like Lot’s Wife, was the boy who helped Ric get Jocelyn away from the city. There was something curious about him. She couldn’t figure out what. In all the commotion getting back to the ship and the chaos after the earthquake, he hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t spoken to anyone. And as far as she’d witnessed, none had spoken to him. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know his name.
He was a gangly youth, just coming into his shoulders, with hair that more resembled dark twisted fingers and skin the color of rich honey. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. Deep and soulful, as if they could know all with a simple glance.
Jocelyn owed him her thanks as well, but was unsure how to approach him. He seemed removed. Isolated from the rest, somehow. Perhaps when Ric returned
, he could make the proper introductions and--
“There they be.” Dowd lowered the eyeglass and called back to Tupper.
“Who’s with them?” Tupper waited only as long as it took Hornbach to trim the end of his stitch before slipping beneath his ministering hands and rushing to the rail. “How many?”
The expression on Dowd’s face said it all. “There be just the four.”
“Get out of my way.” Tupper pushed him aside and snatched the long brass eyeglass to look for herself. She made a sound as if the air had been punch from her lungs. “A-another boat…behind… There has to be another… There has to be…”
Tupper lowered the glass. Her legs crumbled. Dowd caught her before she could hit the decking. The brass rolled away as a cry wrenched from deep within her.
All at once, she struggled out of Dowd’s hold, fury twisting her face. “Get your hands off me!”
“I was only tryin’--”
“The captain will have you flogged! G-Gavin will see you f-flogged!” She straightened. “He’ll see…” Tupper stumbled again, and Jocelyn rushed to help, but the woman recovered once more. She took a few shaky steps and stopped. “Bump.” The word came out in a rush. She looked over her shoulder to where the boy still stood. “Bump.” she raised her voice before stomping on the deck twice with the heel of her boot.
The boy turned. He looked stricken. Pure anguish etched upon his young face. Silent tears wet his cheeks. He said nothing, but shook his head before tucking his chin. He rushed past Tupper’s outstretched arms.
Clutching at the neck of her blouse, Tupper’s breath caught as she watched the boy run off. “When C-Captain Quinn returns…tell him…tell him I’m waiting for him in our cabin.”
Jocelyn’s heart broke as she watched Tupper leave the deck clinging to the last fragile thread of hope. Perhaps her last fragile thread of sanity. Such a tragedy.