“Good morning, Miss Whitney.” Blade bowed low. “I have the pleasure to see you to shore and deliver you to Captain Franklin for your trip home.”
“Once again, I am in able hands over my safety. I appreciate the kindness to which you all have bestowed upon me, an unworthy tavern girl.” She looked to each man. “Under my unusual circumstance, I can honestly say that you are bad examples of contemptible, heartless pirates.”
Lianna hugged Jason tight. He wrapped his arms around her so she had to fight off the gathering tears. “Be true to yourself and always willing to learn, for that is the path to becoming a great man.” He smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
Henri stiffened as she turned to look down at him. He didn’t want a hug. He had a gruff reputation to uphold. “I know that you don’t like me much, Henri, but I want to thank you for your tolerance. The next time you are in Nassau, I would be humbled if you paid me a visit. I should like to discuss coconut milk with you.”
Henri relaxed. “Aye, lass. I might be doin’ that.”
Lianna bent down and placed a peck on his forehead. Henri turned several shades of red. “Here now.” He waved her away like a pesky mosquito, glancing about to see if any of the scurvy crew witnessed her gratitude.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small book Zane had given her to read. “Thank you, Captain Fox.” She rubbed her hand across its soft, worn leather cover before handing it to him. “For your concern in my idle hours. I delighted in the sea faring tales of the book.” She paused and smiled. “I understand that my position on your ship called for no hospitality on your part. I greatly appreciate the lengths you went for me, even as I have been somewhat of a pain in the arse.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He inclined his head. “’Twas my pleasure.”
She turned to Blade. “Well, Mr. Tyburn. I’m ready to go. I don’t want to hold up Captain Fox any longer.”
“As you wish.” Blade climbed down the ladder into the skiff. He held the rowboat steady as she swung over the rail, Zane holding her hand until she was on the rungs.
Zane had known the little time Lianna spent on his ship caused a stir, but now he realized it wasn’t just in his trousers. There was a genuine affection for the lass by these three, Blade, Jason, and Henri. He, too, would be sorry to see her go. His throbbing foot reminded him, no, screamed at him, that she was a hazard. But it was hard to ignore her quaint charm.
He watched from the railing as Lianna scaled down the ladder one foot at a time. Blade wore an alligator grin as Lianna afforded him a champion view up her skirt. The old man holding onto the roars craned his neck to the point of nearly capsizing the boat. Zane couldn’t help but be a little envious of them both.
The sun had cleared the horizon, casting a golden glow across the browns and greens of the island terrain. Squat pink and apricot colored buildings along the harbor stirred with the life the morning brings. Small fishing boats made their way to secret spots of bountiful catches. Along with the Rissa, three other ships, all merchants, anchored in the bay, bumboats gathered at their hulls selling provisions of foods, candles, liquor, tools or whatever a sailing ship might need.
Zane enjoyed the breaking of dawn, the way the world seemed to wake in a wash of color, the gradual sound of birds chirping and squawking, the crashing waves which seem to become louder with the warmth the sun brings. It meant that he had survived to breathe another day.
Today he would be underway to complete the job he was hired to do. A few more glorious mornings like this and he would be in Port Royal trading The Serpent for a handsome reward. Enough for his entire crew to retire from the buccaneer’s life, should they wish.
He, himself, would probably continue to sail the sea. She was his mistress. He had no other family save Blade, Henri and the boy. No place to call home. He was bound to her.
He watched Blade hold Lianna by the waist as she stepped warily into the jollyboat. Now, if he had a woman like her to call his own, perhaps he would kiss the oggin goodbye. Nay. Women were little more than trouble with their demands and expectations. Having a sweetheart in every other port free of delusions for taking him as a husband served him well. To think of choosing just one over the sea was downright headless.
Henri clamored to attention. “Capt’n. We be havin’ that party ye were hopin’ for.”
Zane looked to the rugged, steep peninsula jutting out into the sparkling water. A British naval ship had come into view. The looming monster well within range was already in position for battle, the bloody flag raised.
“Bennington.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Seems the winds were at his back.”
“Aye. Now he has us cornered.”
“I anticipated as much.”
“I don’t like this,” Henri muttered.
“What? You’re not up for a challenge? Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”
Henri glanced around the bay.
“Those merchants will weigh anchor as soon as the first volley is fired,” Zane said. “We’ll be able to make an escape should we need to. But we won’t.”
Zane leaned over the railing and hollered down to Blade. “Change of plans, brother. Looks like we ran out of time. Get Miss Whitney back on board.”
Confusion stole across her face and she looked to Blade for answers. “Get me back on board? What is he talking about?”
“Your stay upon the Rissa just got extended.” Blade’s reply floated up to Zane’s ears and the significance prickled him.
“But I don’t want to get back on board.” Her brow furrowed with an annoyed frown.
“Unless you want to be blown to crumbs, you’ll take a chance back on the brig. We won’t make it to the docks.” Blade pulled her to him and pointed to the navy ship she was unable to see from her previous vantage.
A deafening shot exploded through the air missing the Rissa by mere inches. A spray of water rained down on the little boat, thoroughly drenching its three occupants. Lianna clutched Blade in a squeeze tighter than a hitch knot.
“Get her up here now!” Zane turned away from the railing, his cutlass drawn in one hand. “Man your stations! Fire at will!”
CHAPTER 6
Commodore Grant Bennington stood at the helm of the HMS Tradition next to the cockswain. “Keep her steady,” he said.
His blue double-breasted coat trimmed in heavy gold braids was stiff with starch. The ruffles of his shirt from his chest and cuffs were as white as the powdered wig he wore, which was sleekly pulled back with a black ribbon and topped with his tricorn hat. Pleased with his appearance, Bennington believed he should always go into battle without a single mar to his uniform. That was his declaration of superiority. He would strike down his enemies in a dignified honor exceeded only by the King himself, the gluttonous bastard.
He had long been ready to gain a fortunate position over Captain Zane Fox and his bloody cursed ship. Now that he had him, he squandered no measure in taking aim upon his dreadful brig. He was damned determined not to let the marauder get away this time.
His first encounter with Zane Fox happened three years ago in Nassau. He distinctly remembered walking past Fox on the steps of the governor’s mansion. He had a commanding stride about him that had prompted Bennington to take notice. His clothes had been of fine thread, his boots very clean, much the way Bennington fashioned himself. But there had been something in his angular unshaven face, something in his cocky expression that hooked Bennington. A formidable depth radiated from the man. He locked eyes with Fox and an ominous impression had flashed through him. Bennington had inquired about him during his meeting with Governor Wilcox.
“Captain Fox? Oh, he’s just a petty thief I’ve employed to ferret out any troublesome pirates in my waters.” The governor had waved a dismissive hand.
“A criminal to do your bidding? Isn’t that a risk?”
“What better way to catch a criminal than with a criminal of evasive loyalties?”
“Yes, evasive even to
you.” Bennington chanced his remark.
“Your rank, sir, doesn’t secure you from being imprisoned for impudence, Commodore.”
Bennington knew then he’d meet the captain again, with swords drawn.
And that they did. Zane Fox proved his loyalties to no one, claiming he was a privateer. In that, the rogue managed to escape persecutions, nesting with his allies of the moment. When Bennington did get orders from Wilcox to hunt Fox down, battles were brief and ineffective as the son of a bitch and his brig seemingly disappeared like a phantom.
Peering through his field glass, he studied the pirate ship sitting square in the middle of the bay. The Rissa crewmen milled about like angry ants, getting in position, drawing open gun ports, ram-rodding shot. The urgency of naval warfare…how he relished it.
“He still has the girl,” Bennington said to Lieutenant Trent standing by his side. “That means he most certainly still has The Serpent.” He watched as a scrawny kid ushered the wench below the Rissa’s deck.
“How are we going to get The Serpent?” Trent squinted at the ship, his hand shielding his eyes against the rising sun.
Lieutenant Trent acted as Bennington’s first in command. And as such, he was ever ready to be compliant to his orders. Bennington could command him to take a flying leap off the nearest cliff and Trent would do so without ever questioning why, saluting him while plummeting to his death. And the man didn’t have the slightest inclination to be a leader. He couldn’t prognosticate an enemy’s move, much less plan his own. He was a follower that continually bore on Bennington’s tolerance.
“Well, dear piteous sir, we take it from him. Right after we hammer him into surrender.”
Trent mocked him with a skeptical huff. “Captain Fox will never surrender.”
“Hmm. Yes, I am well aware of the fact. That is why we mustn’t give him an option, must we, Trent?” He yelled to his officers overseeing the soldiers manning the guns. “Continue your fire!”
Bennington handed Trent the telescope and turned to the helmsman. “I think we’ve got his attention. Bring her in close to her larboard. I want to be able to spit on her.”
*****
Lianna’s stomach churned like she had eaten a head of rotten lettuce.
“This way, ma’am.” Jason descended the steps down the hatchway with Lianna close behind.
The ship jolted as it took a hit, causing her to lose her footing. She slipped down several steps before catching herself. “Oh, God save us,” she uttered.
“Don’t count on it, ma’am,” Jason helped her regain her balance. “A blind eye has He for the likes of us pirate bastards.”
How sad a boy so young could have a bleak outlook on life. But then most lowborn or unfortunate people such as themselves wore these blinders, forcing them to only see what they are, not what they could become or what they could achieve. They were brought into this world without a chance. The best they could hope for was not to suffer too terribly. Her comprehensive view was more positive, for that she was glad—even if it may be an unrealistic fancy, a wispy cloud too high to reach.
Jason moved forward all too calm as they made their way, traversing around huge stacks of cable tiers and eight large water casks. Lianna flinched at every jounce, every deafening boom. Her heart raced and she fought back the urge to curl up into a ball on the floor and wish it all away. But Jason hurried on like a seasoned sea dog. He had orders from his captain to carry out and she noted his bravery as something to be deferred to and learned from. ’Twould take her a little longer to get used to being on a ship under attack.
They reached the cargo hold and three men bustled out of the adjacent powder room carrying heavy boxes of ammunition. Jason carried the sole lantern casting little light to their greasy, sunken faces. Two of the gruff men rushed past, but the third stopped short of the boy.
Uh-oh. Lianna blanched. Bull.
The hulking monster filled up the space. He hunched over in the cramped room as his height kept him from standing erect and hitting his lumpy dome on a crossbeam. A blast of fear surged through Lianna as malice glazed his eyes and spread across his blistered mouth.
Bull pushed the lad into the cargo hold slamming the door behind him, engaging the latch and wedging the ammunition in front, keeping Jason locked inside. The thick planks muffled the sounds of his pounding and desperate pleading.
“What are you doing? Let him out!”
The behemoth pinned her against the wall. Wet with oily sweat, his overbearing stench caused her to go cross-eyed. Lianna screamed but the thunderous battle above drowned out any hope of being heard. She struggled against his mass, but the more she resisted the more fuel she set in his fire.
“I got flogged ’cause of you.” He growled and pressed his scarred bare chest to her, leaning in within an inch of her face. “Now it’s your turn.” His breath smelled foul enough to wither a weed.
Bull flipped her around to face the wall. Desperately she tried to get free. She stomped on his massive bear-like foot. In turn, he slammed her hard into the boards, rattling her senseless. With one hand on the back of her neck, he bunched and gathered up her dress, his feet spreading her legs.
Oh no, no, no. Not again. No. This can’t be happening. Please, not again. A tear spilled down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes tight. She grappled for his hand at her neck and grabbed at her dress. Back and forth she clawed, but she could not pry him loose.
A vision of four faces cleared in her mind. Four awful faces. They were drunk, loud and brutal. She had been no more than fourteen when she was dragged into an alleyway and raped. She remembered their rancid smell, the jabbing pains to all parts of her body, the grunting and guffawing. She remembered too much. She had struggled and fought against them, but there were too many. All she could do was endure every agonizing minute if she were to survive.
But with all the fight she had in her now, she couldn’t even budge under Bull’s hold. His mass was built like a brick tower. She was reminded, once again, if she didn’t have the upper hand, she didn’t have control. She would be used up and cast aside like a worthless piece of rubbish.
She tried to scream again only to manage a yelp, tugging uselessly down at the folds of her skirt.
The ship rocked with another impact, lurching Bull back and loosening his grip on her. She whirled around, jabbing her knee to his crotch. He didn’t move. Thinking she had broken her knee, she stifled a mewl. He made a deep guttural sound and started for her, reaching out with his thick, dirty fingers. She braced herself, ready to deliver another kick.
“Bull, what’s keeping ye?” A voice hollered down to them as the hatch door swung open. “We need more shot.”
Bull lowered his arms, his black, soulless eyes boring deep into her. A dreadful grin cracked his suppurating sores, baring his blackened teeth. “Next time, bitch. Next time, I’m gonna split ya in two then drink ya dry.” He snatched up the box and lumbered up to the bedlam of the ensuing battle.
Lianna slid down the wall. Badly shaken, she needed a moment to pull herself together.
“Girls of your status are marked for depravity.” The words crept into her brain like a stalking nightmare. “Especially those who are fair like you.” Lianna had rushed home after the rape, bruised, bloodied and battered, sobbing to her aunt. But the bitter old woman offered no solace, instead scolding her for blubbering. “’Tis your own fault for inviting your violation. The sooner you accept that you are to be submissive to them, the better off you’ll be. And where is the tallow I sent you for? Did you lose that, too?”
Stunned and hurt by her cold words, Lianna had denied that notion—submission. The one thing that had been truly hers, the part of her she dreamed would be her gift to a worthy man on her wedding night, had been savagely taken. She had been reduced to paltry scum, flawed and sullied. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she grew up that night, electing to never be submissive as her aunt advised. She had looked out her window to the moon and whispered prayers to
her mother she so dearly missed.
Her aunt had always been a bit spiteful to Lianna’s mother. She had been jealous of her momma’s free spirit and grew cynical when Madame Duchant had taken her on as a servant. More so when Madame didn’t turn Momma away upon discovering she was with child. While ’twas true they were treated kindly by the extraordinary Lady, her aunt mistakenly assumed they were living well-heeled. ’Twas a far better life in her mind than being saddled with a boorish husband, slaving away at his demands. Truth be known, her mother and she were still servants in every sense of the word.
Lianna had known who and what she was and she would not let the perverse attitude of a sottish cur determine who she was to be. She had grown calloused, dour when serving customers at the tavern, but careful not to attract too much notice to herself. Over the years, she had become a saucy wench to tangle with and well respected by the regulars. Six years later, she rarely ran into that kind of trouble again. Rarely.
No longer shaking, she willed her fear to slacken its constricting grip and regained her composure. Certain she possessed her wits, she swiped at the last tear, stood, smoothed out her rumbled dress and unlatched the cargo door.
Jason fell into her. “Miss Whitney! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, ma’am. I let you down. Did he hurt you? I’m so sorry.” He frantically looked around, peering into the shadows. With a stone ballast in his small hand, he stood primed to deliver a blow, ready to fight for her like a champion.
“It’s okay, Jason.” She took him by the shoulders. “I’m all right. There’s nothing to worry about.” She kneeled down. “Everything’s fine.” His brown eyes were wild. He was scared. Scared for her. “Really.” She pulled him into a hug. “Really.”
*****
Zane’s decision to send Lianna down into the cargo space below the Rissa’s water line had been one of no choice. Given the distance between the two ships, any place else would be less safe. If the ship began to sink, Jason could see them out easily enough before they had a chance to drown. At least that’s what he had hoped for.
Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure Page 8