The nobleman reached for Mary’s hands and cradled them in his. He inhaled deeply and then let out a long breath before looking down into her eyes.
“I thought by securing this assignment for him in Cuba that he might be safely away from you and my granddaughter.”
“As did I,” she said. “You know I married for love, Don Pablo, but sadly I was the only one who felt that love. I was a fool.”
“Do not believe that of yourself. My son, he is many things, but a man who would marry without thought of love? No, I do believe Antonio loved you, at least as much as he could.”
He looked away as if attempting to collect his thoughts. Mary swiped at her wet cheek and gave thanks that the Lord had provided such a kind and loving man in the absence of her family.
A family she should never have left.
“My darling,” the older man said gently as tears shimmered in his eyes. “If my son has taken our Maribel, then the duty and responsibility falls to me to go and get her.”
Her hope soared for the first time since she returned home to find her daughter, her world, gone. Don Pablo held much power, both here in Spain and elsewhere. If anyone could find her Maribel, it would be him.
“Would you do that?” she asked, her voice soft as a whisper.
The old man looked into her eyes, his expression somber. “You have my promise, Mary, that I will not rest until our Maribel is found.”
“Nothing but a scratch, Connor.” Jean stepped back aboard his ship with victory achieved and a stream of crewmen behind him carrying the spoils of the battle. “How is Israel?”
Stepping aside to allow his well-trained men to do their jobs, Jean turned his attention to his father’s dear friend, a physician of great wisdom and advanced age. Though his hands were steady, he had to concentrate to keep the sword’s grip from falling through his fingers.
“Our second-in-command is a hardy fellow, and the wound was not deep. He’ll be fine soon with just a scar and a story to tell.” The doctor fell into step beside him. “You’re bleeding. I will have a look.”
Not a question but a statement. Only Evan Connor would dare speak to the feared privateer in this manner.
Jean glanced up. The sails caught in the afternoon breeze as Jean’s men carried the last of the cache of silver coins into the hold. The Spanish frigate Venganza had been cut loose and was drifting away, its smoking hull too badly damaged to claim as a prize but still seaworthy enough to limp to port somewhere before those who chose to remain aboard starved.
By far the most precious possession taken among the spoils of battle was the cutlass found among Antonio Cordoba’s belongings. The heavy silver weapon bore a scabbard encrusted with precious stones and had obviously been made by a craftsman with great skill.
He secured the cutlass to his waist and felt the weight of the weapon against his side. Yes, this would do nicely. The men could divide his portion among themselves and he would keep this in return.
A heated argument caught Jean’s attention, and he quickly headed in that direction. On a vessel of this size, any disagreement could quickly become more than a small inconvenience, especially one that began after a prize had been taken. He’d learned this the hard way and would allow nothing of the sort on his ship.
In the center of the circle of men were two children of barely more than a decade, one male and the other decidedly female. The prisoners were bound together with a thick rope, each of them wearing a gag and struggling to free themselves. The girl wore an absurd scarf tied around her head, with a bloodstain the size of a doubloon decorating the part that covered her forehead.
“What’s this?” he demanded of those under his command. In an instant, the braying crowd fell silent.
“The men found them,” the doctor said as he easily caught up to Jean. “Because you were otherwise occupied, I made the decision to have them brought aboard.”
“Did you now?”
When Jean took over this ship some three years past, he instituted a policy that any man who stepped aboard was free to join and free to go as he pleased. Jean cared not for the man’s nationality or past but rather determined his worth by the work he was willing to perform.
However, he also refused to harbor fools. Thus, there had been many a man set adrift with provision enough to reach shore in relatively good health.
Unlike the man he had sought, he refused to harm innocents. Without exception, should he overtake a vessel carrying women or children, they were not to be accosted. Nor were slaves or the aged. The policy served him well and allowed his conscience to remain clear.
Until now, however, he had never had to decide what to do with children aboard his ship. Worse, his vessel now harbored a female.
The ship’s carpenter was a bald fellow missing most of his teeth, and yet Sebastio Rao’s smile was broad as he nudged Connor. “The boy there says he’s ready to join up with us.”
A smattering of chuckles followed this statement. “The young lady was found in the Consul General’s cabin. She also wishes to join us.” Evan Connor leaned closer to Jean. “Apparently the gag was deemed necessary due to the girl’s insistence on telling anyone who might listen about the books she’s read on pirating and how she knows their jobs well enough to do all of them.” Humor rose on the old man’s face. “She’s a spitfire, that one. Watch yourself near her.”
Jean regarded the girl sharply as the men burst into hearty laughter. She couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve, not much older than his little sister. Even so, the child showed signs of one day becoming a great beauty. Her copper-colored hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders and spilled onto her once lovely but now bloodstained blue dress.
“What is the cause of this blood?” he demanded.
Evan Connor leaned toward him. “She sustained a crescent-shaped cut on her forehead during the battle, likely before we boarded given the look of the wound. Nothing of any consequence, though she may bear a scar.”
Oh, but those eyes. Deepest emerald green, they were, and staring at the assembly of misfit sailors with a loathing that was palpable. Even as she seemed to express her opinion about her current situation, the girl stood tall and showed no fear. Indeed, she seemed willing to run him through should someone give her a weapon.
Jean couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Consul General Cordoba’s daughter as a privateer,” Jean said as he stepped into the circle and allowed his gaze to sweep the length of the contemptuous young lady. “Now this is interesting. And we have a young man also wishing to gain our company, do we?”
The fellow tied to her offered a nod of deference. Jean nodded to the nearest sailor. “Remove his gag.”
He looked over the lad, a gangly fellow who’d already reached the height of an average grown man despite not appearing much older than the Cordoba girl. Though his hair was dirty and his clothing stained and mended, there was something about the boy that seemed almost aristocratic.
“Name is William, sir, William Spencer,” the boy said when he could speak. “I meant what I said. I’ll join ye happily.”
“And slit my throat soon as you’re trusted with something sharp,” Jean said with a laugh that held no humor.
“Not hardly,” the boy insisted. “I know who you are. And I know this is the great Ghost Ship what scares the life out of the Spaniards.”
Had he held an interest in doing so, Jean might have corrected the lad on his statement that the boy knew who he was. Only two men aboard this vessel could claim this, and William Spencer was not one of them.
“So you know all this, do you now?” Jean paused to allow another cursory glance at the lad. “Tell me why you believe you belong on this ship, and I’ll have nothing but the truth or I’ll send you overboard.”
He would do no such thing, but the boy did not yet need to know this. Rather, a healthy fear of the captain was always a good thing in a new recruit. If, indeed, the lad could convince him of his sincerity and usefulness.
&n
bsp; “The truth is, me pappy and brother, they died at the hands of the Spanish. Rest of my family’s dead and buried too. That’s how I got where I was on that ship what’s thankfully sinking. Straight to the bottom with it, if you ask me.”
“We are privateers, not pirates,” he said, as much to inform the lad as to remind his crew. “We operate legally under Letters of Marque, and we conduct ourselves with honor and in accordance with the laws of France. This ship accosts only those vessels we are allowed to capture based on these letters, and each man aboard gets his share. More if he’s earned it and less if he’s new and only just joined up. I am in charge here, and no other man controls this vessel. So, if you’re looking for a pirate ship, you’ll not find one here.”
“No, sir,” he said. “I’m looking to join up with you and your men and no other. You can ask Red here. I told her exactly that when we spied your sails on the horizon. I told her I’d join you if you’d let me.” He glanced down at the girl. “Didn’t I now, Red?”
Jean nodded to a deckhand. “Remove her gag so she can speak for William Spencer here, if she so chooses.”
The deckhand did as he was told and then jumped back when the girl aimed the point of her boot in his direction. Several crew members shouted jibes at the jittery deckhand while the remainder laughed at his expense.
“Watch her, Captain,” the hapless fellow said as Jean walked past him. “Almost took out my knee, she did. And worse, mayhap I hadn’t been so swift in dodging her.”
“Duly noted,” Jean said as he stopped in front of the girl. “Go ahead, Red. Answer the lad.”
For a moment Jean thought she might not say anything. Her face remained unreadable, a feat he could only admire. Faced with this group of misfits and fearsome louts, he might not have been so calm at her age.
His attention went to the scarf around her forehead and the stain of blood there. He would have Connor see to whatever injury was hidden beneath that cloth, but for now he had a defiant child to deal with.
“Speak, or have the gag returned to your mouth,” Jean snapped, his patience growing thin.
She let out a long breath but kept her attention focused solely on Jean. “So I’m to vouch for this fellow when he did no such thing for me when these ruffians were making their decision to gag me?” she said with a shake of her head. “Just what sort of arrangement would that be? Not a good one for sure.”
“All right, then. Sir, what Red here said about the books she’s read is completely and positively true. Why, she taught me to read, she did. I can’t help it if I told the truth when those men over there asked me if I thought she might ever tire of speaking about it. Because in truth, the answer is she will not. Or at least in my experience, she has not.”
Jean stifled a chuckle. Apparently the girl was not the only one who had difficulty tiring of speaking.
“Too little, too late, William Spencer,” the girl called Red said. “Next time respond in my favor when you’re asked and perhaps you and I will stay on good terms.”
William Spencer rolled his eyes, although the gesture was accompanied by a patient smile. It appeared he and the girl sparred frequently.
“Now that all of that’s been cleared up,” Jean said as he gave the girl a wide berth as he returned to standing in front of the lad, “I believe we were discussing whether you were fit to join us, lad.”
“Where do I sign up?” he said. “I can climb sails, do carpenter work and whatever else needs doing on a ship. Oh, and thanks to Red, I can read too, so maybe there’s a job that would require that. And most of all, I’d be grateful to be here. I’d say that’s all the fitness I need.”
“You’re certain?” He gave the boy a sideways look. “It’s not an easy life.”
He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height. “I told you I was.”
“You might be called on to work alongside people not like you.” He paused to watch the boy’s face. “People who are from other places. People who care not to have their identities discovered. Perhaps men from Africa taken from their homes against their will.”
“Slaves?” the lad asked.
“Former slaves,” Jean corrected. “Or men who were bound in that direction but relieved of that burden before they were sold.”
William Spencer seemed to give the matter a moment’s thought, and then he nodded. “Long as they don’t mind working alongside me, I’d say we’d get along just fine.”
Jean met the boy’s gaze and saw he told the truth. He saw, too, a determination in those youthful eyes that reminded him of himself at that age.
“You’ll do, then,” he said before stepping around to the girl.
She, too, offered a look of determination, although it was likely she’d determined to do him whatever harm she might manage. “And you, Red?” He met her even gaze. “What do you propose we do with you?”
“You’ll allow me to join you. I’m just as useful as William.”
“Ain’t no woman going to join us, is she, Captain?” someone called.
“It’s bad luck and ye know it,” another said.
Jean waved his hand and the crowd fell silent. He had no intention of allowing this female child to join their ranks, though he had no belief in luck, either good or bad. However, it wouldn’t do to let the girl or his crew know that just yet.
“I am the captain of this vessel,” he said to her. “As such, I regret to inform you that a woman will never be fit to join my crew.”
“And why not?”
A few of the sailors chuckled, while the rest seemed to be watching to see what would happen next.
“Because you’d be a burden, Red, and a danger to the men. Should we be called upon to engage in battle, having you aboard would be a distraction. Someone would have to be assigned to protect you, and that could cost valuable time and lives. And ultimately, as captain, I am the one responsible for protecting all of you.”
She met his gaze. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve done a fine job of fending for myself.”
Jean shook his head. “I doubt that. Do show me what you would do should someone accost you.” He shrugged. “Please wait. I’m terribly sorry. Someone already did and managed to tie you up. You being bound by ropes proves my point exactly.”
Before Jean realized what was happening, the young lady kicked him solidly with the pointed toe of her shoe. Pain shot up his wounded leg as he stumbled backward. Peals of laughter were quickly replaced by stunned silence when their captain let out a blistering yell.
And that, sir, proves mine,” Maribel said. “Although I hope you’ll forgive me. See, I have been praying you would be a nice man.”
“Keep praying, then,” Jean snapped. “Because that is not the case as of yet.” He looked over at the doctor, who appeared to be having difficulty keeping a neutral expression. “Mr. Connor,” he managed through clenched jaw. “Put the girl in the brig and set the young fellow free.”
“The brig? You’re certain of this?” the older man asked, concern now etching his features.
Ignoring the quiet stares of the men around him, Jean focused on the man who had known him practically since birth. “I am. If Red wants to be a privateer, then we will show her what happens when a crewman accosts his captain.”
Connor shook his head. “But, lad, surely you do not mean to—”
“Surely I do.” He then turned to address his crew. “William Spencer here is to be afforded the rights and share of a new crew member once he proves his worth, and as such he is not to be harmed. Anyone who does not comply with this will feel the full fury of my wrath and join the girl known as Red in the brig until a suitable punishment is carried out. Is that understood?”
A low murmur of agreement permeated the crowd. Jean nodded and then continued. “The girl is to be considered under my protection, even though she is to remain a guest in my brig. Should I hear of any maltreatment against her, I will take it as a personal affront to me and deal with the perpetrator accordingly as well. Is t
hat clear?”
This time the murmur of agreement was much softer and appeared to be reluctantly given. Jean locked eyes with the girl called Red, who now stood as if ready to run despite being held in place by two of his largest men. The lad had wisely moved away into the crowd and now stood silently watching.
“It appears there is no solid agreement to this command,” he said. “Perhaps someone wishes to challenge me?”
He allowed his attention to sweep the crowd, enjoying them shrinking back, before returning it to the girl. Jean had allowed his temper to best his good judgment and he knew it. Still, he refused to back down.
“No,” Jean said. “I thought not. Take her to the brig, and the rest of you mind my warning. And, Connor, see to whatever is hidden beneath that wretched scarf she is wearing. I warrant she will need one of your vile potions.”
With that, he turned and walked away, secure in the knowledge that his orders would be followed. No one aboard this ship would dare do otherwise.
Once in his cabin, Jean closed his eyes and settled onto his cot. He took a breath and let it out slowly as he tried in vain to get comfortable even as he also worked to tame his temper.
The wound he’d received two months ago in a skirmish with a slaving ship off the coast of Jamaica ached thanks to the girl’s assault on him, but that was the least of his concerns. The thought of the lives saved during that battle—the men who were freed to go back to home and family—was not enough to erase the ones lost today.
Unbidden, Antonio Cordoba’s face appeared before him as he had looked before he slipped beneath the waves for the last time. Jean shook his head to rid himself of the vision.
Cordoba was dead, an enemy vanquished, and justice had been served. Calling him back, even in his thoughts, served no purpose.
He should have felt relief. Cordoba was nothing but a coldblooded murderer.
Jean pounded his fist against the wall. The deaths of Jean’s mother and baby brother had been avenged, yet all he felt was a vast emptiness.
The Pirate Bride Page 3