A Pirate's Command

by Meg Hennessy

  “Jordan will understand more than you think. Are we held to the thirty-five days?”

  He chuckled. “Si, it is to continue our lives at the right time. One day for every month.”

  “Then you have added wrong. It is not thirty-five months, but thirty-three.”

  “Thirty-three?” he said more to himself than her, but she could see he was thinking about it.

  “I was missing for thirty-five months, but the first two were with the men who took my ship, the Loirie. See, I am remembering things.”

  The expression of his face shifted to bleed out the natural tint of his skin.

  “Donato?”

  “Sail up! Sail up!” came a call from the main deck.

  …

  How in the hell had he miscalculated that? Why, when he finally had a consensus with Colette, did she have to figure that out? When he had learned of her plans for his morning meal, he decided, after last night, he had to put an end to their dance. With his plans to torment her hidden passions, he had become the tortured soul. His thirty-five days was to symbolize the reunification of their marriage and a continuation, but she was right. He had miscalculated in what she knew and didn’t know.

  She didn’t know that it was he who had captained the ship that had taken the Loirie, the ship she and Jordan had been on as passengers. But in his efforts to keep Spain out of the fray, he had hired an American ship, Lady Tempest, to disguise the action as high seas robbery. Things had gone wrong. He had partnered with the wrong American ship, and though he had completed his mission, it had been grossly botched by the gluttony and greed of the American pirates.

  She had no memory after her abduction, but at the end of two months, she’d been on the auction block in Port au Prince as a captive. Colette and Jordan had been unintended collateral. Though in his mind it had been a justified act of war, considering that the Spanish spy sent to root out the revolutionists had been on that ship and had to be stopped before countless lives were lost. Would Colette find it in her heart to forgive him? Having finally forged a tenuous alliance with the woman he loved more than his own life, what would happen when she learned the truth about her abduction? She was beginning to remember.

  Donato took the stairs to the main deck. Amazingly, Colette was right behind him. Donato reached the bow and picked up a pair of binoculars. Just on the horizon, off the port bow, were the sails of a frigate ship with a royal flag.

  Rayna.

  Ramón stood to one side of him, Colette to the other.

  “Is it?” she asked.

  “Si, Rayna’s ship.”

  “A royal ship,” Ramón pointed out.

  “Speed?”

  “Nine knots, Capitán.”

  “How fast do you think she’s at, Ramón?”

  “We will gain on her. She can’t go much faster than five to six knots.”

  Colette looked over at the two men. “Then what?”

  Before he could answer, Rayna’s ship started to turn. “She’s coming about.”

  Colette clasped her hand to Donato’s arm. “Will she give him back?”

  “Don’t count on it. Clear for action!” Donato issued orders for the men to ready themselves for battle. A flurry of activity fell over the deck as men raced to predetermined stations. The guns were run out, loaded, and ready. “Colette, go below.”

  “Not on your life. That ship has my son.”

  “And you are a nurse. Set up supplies with our surgeon in the wardroom.”

  “When a shot is fired, I will do so.”

  He didn’t bother to argue the point. He knew the futility of it, and if reversed, he’d do the same as she. “Then hang on. Stay at the helm—it’s the most protected spot on the main deck.”

  Rayna’s ship plowed the waters toward them, larboard bow. Donato tried to see her through the binoculars, but either he couldn’t or she wasn’t on the main deck. His men waited, braced for either a fight or a collision.

  Suddenly the frigate turned starboard and fired. Though she had thirty-two guns on each side, she fired off one. It hit the water a hundred feet or so larboard beam. The water ricocheted into the sky and sprayed over the ship.

  “What was that?” Colette asked.

  “A warning shot, not to follow too close.”

  “Capitán,” the crow’s nest called out. “She sails protected!”

  Protected?

  Donato lifted his binoculars. As Rayna’s ship slowed, other ships appeared on the horizon.

  It was a trap.

  The other ships had kept out of sight until Donato was close enough. The cannon fire was a signal to move in. She had an almiranta in her lead and a capitana that fell into the rear. Rayna’s ship picked up speed, and the heavily armed escort dropped back to box in El Rescate.

  “We are now prisoners,” Colette whispered.

  Donato nodded. “We are.”

  He raised his hand and shouted for the square riggings to be furled to slow down their speed. “We’ve been instructed to follow.”

  “To Spain?” Colette failed to hide the alarm from her voice. “Can we not get away and come back?”

  “The results would be the same. She is heavily protected.”

  “Then we are to follow to Spain?”

  “Apparently.”

  Their speed slowed with the riggings changed. The helm set to follow in the wake of the large frigate. For now, it was his only choice, but he had to think of something or Enio and Colette might be trapped in Spain forever, or worse, banished to France, and his head would roll.

  He had no idea how much the Spanish Crown knew, or what Rayna knew.

  “How long before we reach Spain?” Colette moved over to stand next to him.

  “A month or so.”

  “Following her like this?”

  “Until I think of something, that is what we’ll do. Besides, I feel better having my son’s abductors in sight. Whether equipped or not, I cannot fight my way out of this. Enio is on that ship.” Donato ordered the crew to stand down.

  “You fought my brother.”

  “I surrendered to your brother, because he had you and Enio on his ship.”

  Colette’s eyes widened with shock. “You’ve known all along we would go to Spain and did not tell me.”

  “Would that have changed your mind, Colette? Would you have stayed on the island and waited?”

  She looked away for a moment, then back at him. “No, I would have come.”

  “Then it does not matter, does it? For I was not sure until this moment.”

  “If they want you, why not take you in New Orleans, instead of this elaborate plan?”

  “I have no answers.”

  “Then we will learn together.” She stepped forward to stand next to him at the helm, wrapping her hand around the crook of his arm. For the longest time, they stood together silently following in the wake of the ship that carried their son, imprisoned by the armed ships that sailed starboard and larboard.

  “I long to see him, Donato, so much so, my chest aches.” Colette broke the silence.

  “I know,” was all he could muster, for he felt the same pain stabbing at his heart.

  She looked up at him. “Will you tell me now? Who you are? In English?”

  He drew a deep breath, bracing for the discussion he should have had with her long ago. But memories of home were always bad ones, and rarely did he talk about it to anyone. Now seemed appropriate, for she was with him in this, and he needed something to clear his mind to once again think.

  “I will start with my title. I am Donato de la Roche y Borbón, Marquis de Andalusia, Heir Grandes de España. I am His Excellency. My father is a Duke of Andalusia, Grandes de España, his address, His Very Excellency, and he bows to no king. The men sailing with me refer to me as Capitán de Navío, a ship of the line captain, but we are not in the Spanish navy, so it is just a title. My mother, María, died a few years ago, and my only sibling is one sister, whom you’ve already had the displeasure of meetin
g.”

  “You left Spain, why?”

  “I was tired of fighting. I fought in the Peninsular Wars, as did these men who sail with us today. I was born in Madrid, but moved to Cádiz, the home of revolutionary ideas. I have met kings, queens, and emperors of Spain, France, and Prussia. I have seen power change hands, backstabbing, conniving, jostling for political position. But the men who died for them had no power, only blood to spill on the battlefields, fighting the interminable French. They even invaded Madrid.”

  “I remember the Madrid invasion. That was the year I was married in France.”

  “Our countries are still at war with each other, but war and revolution against Napoleon’s occupation led to the Spanish Constitution of 1812.”

  “Which you support, even as a noble?”

  “My status is higher than that of a noble. I do not have to bow before a king, but I have to remove my hat. My father does not. I have lived with these men who fought and died. I am no better than they, but I have privilege, where they do not. No man should be given such privilege simply because of his birth.”

  “You sound like my father. You should be American.”

  If not such a dire moment, he would have found humor in the comparison, though very true it was. “It is that cause, the defeat of the absolutist for which I fight…as a revolutionist. I want freedom for the mother country and for her colonies.”

  “You are an enemy to the Crown of Spain,” she said more as a statement than question, but he answered her anyway.

  “Si.”

  “From your distance, you fund the revolutionists who wish to overthrow the king.”

  “Si.”

  “Then what does this mean, to you, to me, to Enio, going to Spain? Do they know who you are? Are you under arrest?”

  “Because of my rank, I can be arrested only if specifically ordered by the king. By the looks of this fleet, I have been summoned. Some of those privileges were annulled under Bonaparte, but—” He pulled her in close to him. “Whatever happens, I will do all in my power to keep you and Enio safe and get you back home. I promise you that. I have contingent plans.”

  Colette wiped her eyes, then snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his middle, seemingly unaware of the other men on the ship or what was proper. He let her do it because it simply felt good in what appeared to be his darkest hour.

  He had no contingent plan to get his wife and son out of Spain, should he be sentenced.

  He drew a deep breath to clear his mind and returned her hug.

  He must get them to safety.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Toma, hermosa. Te hará bien.”

  Colette bolted upright in the little bed of the captain’s bedchamber. She was breathing hard, covered in perspiration, and her ankle burned.

  It was the dream. That damn dream.

  She pushed her legs over the edge of the bed to collect herself, unable to shake the odd feeling that came with the dream. She was sure it was Donato’s voice, but everything else seemed blurry. Except this time there was something different. This time she heard other voices, as if they stood over her, or around a bed with her on it. She rubbed her temples trying to erase it, not understanding why it came back to her night after night.

  She glanced out of the window, and even in the soft dawn light, Donato’s clipper followed behind the large Spanish frigate, as if connected by a towline. Perhaps they were, though the line was not of rope but of a little boy. It has been days since his sister’s ship had been sighted. One day after the next, they had sailed in her wake, escorted by heavily armed ships on both sides.

  Colette wiped tears from her eyes, missing him so much, and knowing Donato was in as much pain, if not more, for he blamed himself for the situation.

  Day thirty-five had come and gone. Things had changed.

  She pulled on a gauze morning dress, then exited the small bedchamber by a door that opened to the run. Across from that door was a small room called the wardroom. There Donato did most of his thinking and planning. A light shone under the door. Colette opened it.

  Donato sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands supporting his head. He looked up when she entered, and brushed his hair off his face.

  “What can I do for you, Colette?”

  She sank into the chair across from him and took his hand in hers. “You are worried.”

  “Si.” He nodded and ran his free hand through his long thick hair. “I will think of something. Why are you awake?”

  She shook her head. “I had that dream again. The one where I hear your voice but it has no meaning. I don’t know why but I think it has something to do with my abduction. I try to remember something, but it does not come.”

  “Don’t force it, it will come.” He ran his hand down the side of her face. “Colette, if something were to happen to me, know how much I care for you, and Enio.”

  Her eyes watered up, and she swallowed the emotion that swirled to the surface. “I know. We’ll get out of this.”

  “I confess, my sister did ask me to come home. I received two letters from her, but all she said was that my father needed me, and that meant nothing.”

  “Your father means nothing?”

  He stood up as if he couldn’t contain his own energy. “It is complicated, Colette. You should get more sleep. It is early.”

  “I cannot sleep. I only toss and turn, or repeat that dream. Besides, morning is here.”

  “And it is time.”

  “Time?” It was only then she noted his change of attire from sailor to gentleman. Instead of sleeping, he had spent the time altering his appearance.

  Dressed in nearly all black velvet, his coat had some designs embedded into the fabric, and both collar and lapels were velvet as well. Instead of breeches, he wore long tan-colored pants, a new style for men, and leather slippers versus boots. Ruffles neatly folded around his wrists. His neck cloth, which he adjusted as he stood, hung pleated and close to his body.

  Obviously, he had a plan in mind, but in spite of his immaculate dress, he armed himself with pistol and dirk in his waistband, hidden beneath the coat.

  “What are you about?”

  “I want to talk to my sister on the main deck.” He opened the door but turned back to Colette. “I will wait if you wish to come up.”

  “Try going without me.”

  Donato smiled. “I’d be damned.”

  It took her only minutes to finish dressing, throwing on a heavy wool shawl over her shoulders and donning lace-up leather boots. Donato waited as promised. She followed him to the main deck to stand atop the helm. He had binoculars in his hands and canvassed the frigate ahead of them. He then turned and motioned to one of the sailors manning a gun.

  “¡Fuego!”

  A large cannon belched out an iron ball followed with smoke and fire. It landed a hundred feet larboard bow. Satisfied he had their attention, he called out. “Signaler, send up the message for a parley.”

  Two men scrambled with flags, tied them off, then raised them on a halyard. Colette watched the small triangle flags flutter in the wind, each a different color and pattern, wondering about the code they must hold. “Are they looking?”

  Donato nodded and replied, “They are reading my message.” Though it was only a few minutes, it felt like hours before Rayna’s ship responded. Soon a halyard went up with a slew of flags. The signaler read them. “She says you wish to meet why, Capitán?”

  “Tell her I will no longer follow unless I know the purpose. Tell her I will listen.”

  Again more fidgeting with the flags, and the line was raised. This time Rayna’s ship was faster to respond. “She says, she will come to your ship.”

  “Tell her to bring our son,” Colette shouted to the signaler. Who stared back at her, then looked at Donato for confirmation.

  He nodded and shrugged. “Ask her.”

  More flags, more time.

  “She has responded, Cap—”

  Donato
raised his hands to silence the signaler. “I know what that means. No.”

  Colette’s heart sank but beneath her disappointment she was livid, seething, anxious to meet Rayna de la Roche and wrap her hands around her skinny noble neck.

  “They launch a longboat,” came another call from the lookout.

  Donato ordered the sails adjusted to reduce their speed.

  Colette watched as the other ship dropped down the small boat. Without the binoculars, she could see activity but nothing more. Donato kept scanning the ship until he stopped and swung the binoculars back the other direction. She heard a slight intake of air and looked up at him. “What do you see?”

  He looked down at her, handing her the glasses. “Look, right across from the main mast, near where they launched the longboat. Enio.”

  Colette’s blood rushed her chest, hammering her heart, as the sheer thought of seeing him nearly brought her to her knees. Hands trembling, she tried to focus through the glasses. Finally, she could see their main deck, and there as Donato said, across from the main mast, stood a woman holding Enio.

  “Oh my Lord,” she whispered, fighting the mist in her eyes that threatened to steal her vision. He was held straddling the woman’s hip and watching the smaller boat. His shiny dark hair fluttered in the ocean breeze, and every once in a while, his hand would go up and rub his face as if he was tired. “He is tired, perhaps not sleeping.”

  “But alive and well.”

  The woman turned and disappeared into the ship, and her little boy was gone.

  “Oh…she is gone.” Colette’s breath disappeared with him. Trying to draw enough air to speak, she handed the binoculars back to Donato. “I cannot bear this.”

  “You can, because you have to. You’ve held up well, Colette.”

  Donato again raised the binoculars, and this time, she knew he was watching his sister board the longboat.

  “What makes her think we won’t take her hostage?”

  “Why do you think she had Enio shown on the main deck?”

  “She thinks to be clever. Is she?”

  “She is.” Donato lowered the binoculars. “It does not matter. She has our son. Colette, let me handle this, os lo ruego.”