The Pirate Bride

by Y'Barbo, Kathleen;

  Jean tried to keep a serious expression, but his laughter got the better of him. “Yes, I do see the dilemma. And I am willing to strike a compromise, at least for the remainder of this voyage.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked.

  “You are welcome to remain with us until we reach New Orleans. Once there, proper arrangements will be made for you.”

  She shook her head. “I want to remain on the ship. I’m not interested in whatever arrangements you think you’ll be making for me in New Orleans.”

  “You’ve no choice in the matter,” he told her. “The vessel will be dry-docked for repairs and the crew released from their duties until such time as the vessel is ready to sail again.”

  Her haughty expression fell. “Yes,” she finally said. “I do see the dilemma.”

  He wouldn’t dare tell her yet that his plans involved turning the troublemaking girl over to his mother for her assessment. Either Maribel would end up spending the remainder of her childhood under a New Orleans roof or Abigail would find a more suitable solution such as taking her to the Ursuline convent.

  Of course, there were serious complications in allowing the girl to be privy to a side of his life that Jean shared with very few people. He would have to give this plan serious consideration before he decided a course of action. In the meantime, it appeared he was now the captain to his first female crew member.

  “I’m sure a solution can be found,” he told her. “But for now, do I have your word that you will abide by the rules of my ship and cease your infernal arguing with me?”

  She grinned and offered a smart salute. “I promise.”

  “Then there is one more requirement.” He ignored her exasperated expression to continue. “You will write a letter of apology to Mrs. McDonald asking her forgiveness for running away from her. Likely she has the constables searching for you. I’m sure you’ve given her a terrible fright.”

  Maribel looked contrite. “I didn’t think of that,” she admitted. “I will write a very nice letter and be sure to tell her how wonderful her tea and cookies were and how very much I enjoyed getting to know her for the hour we spent together. How’s that?”

  “That is a good beginning.” Jean could stifle his amusement no longer. His laughter filled the room as he looked down at the newest member of his crew. “Welcome then, Maribel.”

  The loud boom of a cannon and the sudden pitch of the ship punctuated his words. The vessel momentarily righted itself before another blast tore through its hull.

  “Get under that bunk, and do not come out until someone comes for you,” he snapped. “That is an order.”

  He waited just long enough to be sure Maribel complied and then strode out toward the deck. Israel met him in the passageway. “What is going on?” he bellowed over the noise and chaos unfolding on deck.

  “Over there.” Israel pointed toward a low, fast schooner heading toward them. “Her French flag claimed her for a friend. Until she started firing on us.”

  The gunners had already begun to return fire, but the ship listed heavily to port and its torn sails hung uselessly in the breeze. The schooner continued to approach, its hull cutting swiftly through the waves.

  “I will have the necks of the cowards who refuse to strike a proper flag,” Jean shouted as he took his place behind one of the port cannons. Because of the dangerous incline of the deck, he had to hold on tight to avoid slipping into the water.

  “Hold our fire,” he shouted above the din. “Wait for my signal.”

  The acrid smell of smoke burned his lungs as Jean watched the schooner’s swift approach. Waiting until the last possible moment to adjust for the sharp angle of the listing ship, he finally shouted the order.

  “Fire away.”

  The schooner was hit broadside by eleven cannonballs at once. The vessel burst into flames and immediately began to founder. A rousing cheer went up on the deck as the schooner began to disappear below the water.

  “Good work, Captain,” Israel said when he caught up to him.

  “Too early for celebrating,” he said as he rubbed his sore leg. “Get the carpenter and our sailmaker up here.”

  Jean squinted his eyes against the setting sun. The holes in the deck were large but reparable, and the mainmast still stood sound. He would not celebrate until his hunch was confirmed, but it appeared that the damage below would be minimal.

  “Send a party to search for survivors,” he told Israel. “I want to know who is behind this unprovoked attack.”

  “Aye, sir,” Israel said, though he lingered just a moment longer than expected. “Regarding Miss Maribel …”

  “If you’re about to confess some transgression regarding how the girl was able to slip aboard my ship and remain here for several days, I advise you to wait until we’ve reached land and I have had sufficient time to decide if whatever decisions were made were the correct ones.”

  Israel studied him a moment and then nodded. “Agreed,” he said.

  Jean paused to give him an assessing look. “Go and carry out my orders. I’ll be in my cabin. I left our newest crew member there.”

  To his surprise, Maribel had not only followed his orders but remained under the bunk exactly where he told her to go.

  Using the blankets she found on the bunk, Maribel had snuggled herself into a cozy spot.

  She watched the boots walking toward her. Thankful as she was that the captain had survived whatever happened, she made no move to leave her hiding place. In fact, she liked where she was hiding just fine.

  The boots stopped inches from her. “You are unharmed?” the captain said.

  “Yes,” she managed.

  Later she would add that somewhere between the cannon fire and the fear that William Spencer and the captain might die she had decided to give up on the life of a privateer. To lose her father was awful. To lose people who treated her as if they cared …

  She bit her trembling lip and turned her face away. The last thing she wished to do was allow Captain Beaumont to see his newest crew member shedding tears.

  “So you wish to sleep, then?” he said. “I’ll not keep you from it, although I can report that your companion Mr. Spencer showed himself admirably during the battle. You were correct in vouching for his abilities as a sailor.”

  Maribel let out a long breath. She hadn’t dared think of William, because to think of him would mean to worry about him while the cannons were firing and the noises of battle were sounding. She hadn’t managed the same ability regarding the captain. Instead, she’d kept up a prayer that he would survive.

  The boots stepped away to stop at the desk where the captain’s log was kept. She knew this because she might have peeked at what was in this cabin while the captain was away taking care of whatever disturbance was unfolding outside.

  But she only peeked for a moment and only long enough to see that Captain Beaumont was much more than just captain of this vessel. Not that she would ever tell.

  The cabin door opened and another pair of boots stepped inside. These she recognized as belonging to the kind doctor who reminded her a little of her grandfather.

  Her heart lurched just a little at the recollection of the man she called Abuelo. Only knowing that he and Mama had been together when their lives were lost kept her from being completely devastated.

  Now that she was an orphan and unfit for service as a privateer, what would she do?

  “She is sleeping,” Captain Beaumont said. “What news have you brought me?”

  “Rao reports the repairs to our ship are minimal and will be completed before sunset. Piper sends a similar message in regard to the sails.”

  “Then we lift anchor as soon as we are able.” He paused. “And what of the vessel that attacked us?”

  “We fished a man out of the water, but the rest of the fools aboard were not so lucky. The crew voted to burn it rather than surrender. Israel is with him in the brig. I’ve been to see to him, and he’s told quite a tale.”
/>   Maribel’s ears perked up at that statement. She’d read something similar in The Notorious Seafaring Pyrates and Their Exploits. Though she hadn’t understood why men would rather go down on a burning ship than submit to their captors, she did admit it was an effective way to keep a vessel from being used in illegal trade.

  “What is his condition?”

  “Burns are nasty injuries to treat, and as extensive as his were, it is unlikely he will live beyond a day or two.”

  She clenched her eyes shut against the image of a man on fire. Still she could not stop thinking of what that must be like. More proof she was not suited for life aboard a privateer’s ship.

  The doctor spoke for a moment in a voice too soft for Maribel to hear clearly. From the few words she could make out, the discussion had turned to pirates.

  The captain shifted positions as Maribel opened her eyes. While the nice doctor was still standing by the door, the captain seemed poised to jump from his chair at any moment.

  “Is he talking?” Captain Beaumont asked.

  “Indeed he is. I suggest you hear the story directly from him.”

  The boots moved again, and this time the captain rose. “I will have the abbreviated version first, please,” he said with the tone of a man most unhappy with whatever he’d been hearing from the doctor. “Then I will decide if I wish to pay him a visit.”

  “The abbreviated version is there is a bounty on us all, but more specifically, there is a bounty on your head.”

  Captain Beaumont took a step to the side and laughed. “Connor, you had me worried. Of course there’s a bounty on us. We’ve made quite a few Spanish ships’ captains unhappy when we’ve relieved them of their cargo in the name of France.” He sat back down. “I thought this would be of interest to me.”

  “It should very well be,” the doctor snapped. “That ship was just the warning. They’ve got a much bigger and well-provisioned vessel coming along behind her, and the man in the brig believes that’s the one that will take us down.”

  “A strategy that does not surprise me,” the captain said far too lightly, in Maribel’s opinion. “We will be long gone before the companion ship can find us. Have Rao and Piper double their efforts. Take every man off his duty to assist them if necessary.”

  “I will pass on your order,” he said. “However, there’s more, and I’d like you to hear it from me first.”

  “As you know, last year the regent died and Louis XV has ascended to the throne. With that change of events comes a change in the leadership on many levels, albeit a slow change.”

  “Get to the point,” Captain Beaumont snapped.

  There was a moment of silence, and Maribel wondered if the doctor would continue. Finally he cleared his throat.

  “Yes, well, the result of all that tumult is that after the passage of a year’s time, those who were friendly to us in the higher levels of government have been replaced with others who do not take lightly the death of a Spanish nobleman at your hands. We are technically at peace with Spain, you know, and perhaps this particular nobleman had French friends in high places.”

  “More likely French friends to whom he owed vast sums of money. As to your statement regarding Spain, I agree we are technically at peace,” the captain echoed, his sarcasm thick. “But still charged with carrying out the duties our Letters of Marque allow.”

  “I will call upon your own use of the word technically to respond. Yes, we technically are still charged with carrying out these duties.”

  The captain pounded his fist on his desk, resulting in a small glass object falling to the floor. The crystal shattered into a thousand pieces of sparkling debris.

  “And has anyone accused me of being derelict in these duties or holding out profits that rightly belonged to the crown?” the captain asked.

  “To my knowledge, they have not.”

  “I wager those same men would not take it lightly if I were to surrender my letters and walk away from the enterprise that has lined their pockets these past few years.”

  “I doubt you’ll be given the chance,” Mr. Connor said. “That ship was sent to kill you by men who hold the purse strings of the king’s coffers and are capable of ordering any vessel in the Royal Navy to fire against us. Likely the next attempt will not be such an abysmal failure.”

  “So I am now a pariah and my friend is now my enemy?”

  “You are a wanted man, yes.” The doctor moved toward the captain. “But this is not completely unexpected. That is why we made the plans to …”

  The rest of the doctor’s words were lost as Maribel’s heart thumped hard against her chest. How she hated the privateering life.

  Please, Lord, just put me on solid ground somewhere and leave me there. Anywhere.

  “Then we sail for New Orleans,” Captain Beaumont said.

  “We cannot do that, lad,” the doctor countered. “Where do you think these French vessels call their home port here? If you were to attempt to sail into the city, you would be immediately arrested as a traitor to the crown.”

  “Which crown?” the captain quipped.

  “Truly, lad, it could be either, if you really think on it. Though the French are after you, I warrant the Spaniards would like to see you strung up as a pirate.”

  “And the rest of you along with me,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, I see the dilemma. Then we sail for another port, and along the way we make plans to find another vessel. Would that solve the issue?”

  “It would solve one of the issues,” he said. “The other, you and I have discussed at length on more than one occasion.”

  “I will not consider it.”

  The room fell silent for a moment. “You may not be given the option.”

  Seven weeks later

  Don Pablo Cordoba paced the confines of the vessel and paused only occasionally to look outside at the stars that shone above them. Word traveled fast in his world, and knowledge of a nobleman’s death at the hands of a man who held French Letters of Marque could spell disaster for those in power in France.

  Thus Don Pablo had stepped in to mediate what could quickly have become more than just an unfortunate situation. He had done so, not letting any of the parties know he had motives other than keeping peace between the country of his birth and the country where his roots went deep.

  While he had never held much love for the place where his grandmother was born, he did have numerous relatives scattered across the positions of power in the French capital. Relatives who were happy to prove loyalty to him by seeing that the death of his son was avenged.

  Not that he had any particular interest in avenging Antonio’s regrettable demise. Like as not, the son he hardly knew deserved whatever had happened. At least his Isabel was not here to see what had become of her only son. A mother’s love transcended the truth of her child’s true personality. Don Pablo, however, had a very clear idea of just what Antonio had become.

  Sadly, his attempt to remove Antonio from the lives of Maribel and her mother had turned into a disaster that he must remedy. Of course, he would not tell Mary about Antonio’s death until he could also tell her what happened to her daughter. To his granddaughter.

  At least he could count on the silence of his friends on that matter. And for those who were not friends, he could count on allegiance. To cross him was something few dared to do.

  None now that the regent was no longer in charge.

  He took up his pacing again, this time walking out a solution to how best to retrieve a girl he prayed with each step would be found alive. Testimony freely given by men who he believed were truly witnesses to his son’s murder led him to believe the girl was spirited away aboard a vessel known to sailors as the Ghost Ship.

  All agreed the girl was very much alive and unharmed when she was taken. Thus, he would continue to believe this until the moment he held her in his arms once more.

  So as to keep her from learning she was a widow, Mary was installed in the cabin next door and would be
traveling with him to New Orleans. The appointment he had secured would provide for him a home and a salary that would hardly compensate for all he left behind in Spain.

  However, it would provide a base of operations that would allow him closer access to the ruffians who saw fit to steal his precious Maribel. And as he had promised Mary, he would stop at nothing until she was returned.

  What he did not tell Mary was what he planned to do with the men when they were found. That was certainly not a fit conversation for a woman of her delicate disposition.

  One room past the door to Don Pablo’s cabin, Mary Cordoba leaned against the wall and stared up at the stars overhead. The night was clear, eerily so since their passage had met with such terrible weather until they reached the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, or Seno Mexicano as the crewmen had been calling it since they reached this latitude just before sunset.

  Somewhere her Maribel was looking at the same stars. She had to be. The alternative was unthinkable.

  Mary turned her back and closed her eyes. It was her fault. Had she not defied her mother and father and fled to Spain to marry Antonio, life would not have taken her to this place of desperation.

  She let out a long breath and opened her eyes once more. If she had not married him, there would be no Maribel.

  That was also unthinkable.

  From her place in the lookout post high up in the rigging, Maribel studied the stars overhead. Though to most of the sailors on this vessel, duty in the lookout post was considered the worst assignment, it was her favorite.

  Not only could she see for miles in all directions during the day, but she could also dream beneath the stars at night. Dream with her eyes wide open and her senses finely tuned to detect any approaching vessels, of course.

  Seven weeks ago, the captain had sailed their other ship—the one people called the Ghost Ship—into a secluded bay somewhere off the coast of Mexico and burned her to the waterline. Waiting for them was this sloop, a fast ship with a low draft that allowed them to slip in and out of narrow channels and bays.