"Then why mention it at all?"
"Because he also said Recalde had a fleet of warships under his command, and I vaguely recall Geoffrey Pitt mentioning a rumor of several heavily armed galleons arriving in Havana before we left."
"There are always galleons arriving in Havana."
"Not that many galleasses, however."
Jonas pursed his lips thoughtfully. Galleasses were large ships up to one hundred and fifty feet bow to stern with a beam of twenty five feet. They had oars as well as masts and were used mainly to carry troops, upwards of five hundred in addition to a full crew of two hundred. Simon Dante had once been enslaved in the belly of such a ship. He had been starved, beaten, and forced to work the oars when the ship went into battle. Lucifer had been chained beside him.
Dante stared out the gallery windows and took a swallow of rum.
"If, by whatever means," Varian said quietly, "they do know the location of Pigeon Cay, they could land two thousand damned conquistas on the north shore and we would have a hell of a time expelling them."
Dante tipped his cup side to side rolling the contents around. He returned to his desk and stared down at the chart spread across the top. "The swiftest crossing we can hope for still puts us six weeks out. Seven or more if the westerlies blow early. And we have twenty tons of copper sheathing in the cargo bay weighing us down."
"You can offload some of it when we stop at the Lizard to let the woman off."
Dante shook his head, his expression grim. "We're not stopping anywhere, by God. We are going to plot the most direct course to Pigeon Cay. We have sufficient food and water on board. And if we cannot get up enough speed, we'll be tossing the damned copper into the sea. The woman with it, if she wants to leave."
~~
Bella's eyes popped open. She had overheard most of the conversation but thought it prudent to lay still and not betray the fact she was awake. Her mouth was dry as dust and although she had been observing the two men through slitted eyes, she had been focussing more on the goblets in their hands than in what they were saying. But when Jonas declared he was not stopping his ship anywhere, she sat bolt upright.
"What? What did you say?" The exclamation was followed by a gasp as the wound in her side protested the sudden movement. "Jesus damn! That hurts!"
Both men turned to look at her. She pressed her hand against her wound and waited for the fiery little lancets to fade before she met their stares.
"What did you mean when you said you were not stopping?"
Dante scowled. "Since you've obviously been listening to every word we have said, I warrant you have no trouble comprehending what I meant."
"But… you said you would set Molly and me ashore in Truro!"
"Circumstances have changed." He leaned over his charts again. "I cannot spare the time it would take to change course and maneuver my ship close to land."
"Then pray, how are we supposed to get ashore?"
"On the next ship sailing from the Caribbee back to England," he snapped. "Or you can swim, for all I give a rat's arse."
"The Caribbee? You mean… the Spanish Main? The tropics? The other side of the world?"
"You seem the adventurous type. Perhaps the sea air and white sands will appeal to you."
"I can get white sand and sea air in Dover," she countered, the heat rising in her cheeks.
"I am not stopping. I need to return home with all haste."
"Because of this wolf hunter?"
"Your ears are as sharp as your tongue."
"No sharper than yours, Sir Pirate! You said yourself it would take six weeks. Out of that, you cannot spare six hours?"
"If the Spanish truly are plotting to attack our island, I cannot spare six seconds, madam. Which is approximately how much longer my temper will hold!"
Jonas's voice had risen along with his anger and Varian raised a calming hand.
"A jolly boat, perhaps," he suggested. "And a man to row it. Surely we can spare that."
Jonas glared at his brother-in-law for a moment, then at Bella. "Fine. I leave it to you and his lordship here to find a volunteer willing to stay behind with you knowing that their mates and families may well be facing a fight for their lives on Pigeon Cay."
Bella's flush darkened but she nodded at Varian and managed a tight smile. "Thank you, Your Grace. A true gentleman... obviously a rare commodity on board this ship."
Varian stood, finishing the last mouthful before setting his goblet on the table. "Do not thank me yet, dear lady. I doubt there is a man aboard who will be easily convinced to stay behind."
"Not even for the promise of a handsome reward?"
Jonas glanced over again, letting his eyes rove with deliberate lewdness across her chest. "That would depend entirely on exactly how handsome the reward would be. From what I have seen, you haven't all that much to offer."
Bella's eyes widened and the flush in her cheeks was joined by a blaze in her eyes. "You, sir, are an uncouth, black-hearted bastard."
"Flattery, madam, will win you no special favors."
Furious, Bella climbed down off the berth. "Pray tell me where I might find Molly? The air in here grows too thick with hubris to tolerate any longer."
"Pitt!" Dante's roar had not yet finished bouncing off the walls when the door swung open and Young Pitt was there.
"Aye Captain?"
"The lady wishes to be reunited with her maid. Then get your arse down to the galley and find me some meat and biscuits. My belly is gnawing the back of my tongue in search of food!"
The lad quickly ushered Bella out and led her a short five paces along the dark companionway, warning her to duck for a low beam in front of a narrow door.
"Here?"
"Master Grundy's cabin, my lady. He put the other miss here himself."
He said it as if it was an occasion of extraordinary wonderment, suggesting Hobson Grundy was not usually so considerate of the opposite sex, but Bella only scowled at the proximity to Dante's quarters. She entered without another word and slammed the door with enough force to be certain the two men on the other side of the bulkhead heard it.
That same slam had the unfortunate result of startling Molly awake and sending her scrambling off the narrow berth where she had been laying.
She swayed unsteadily on her feet and blinked to clear her senses. "Beg pardon, mistress. I hadn't thought to fall asleep so soundly."
Bella's shoulders sagged under an instant surge of guilt as she looked at the girl's wan face, the bruising on her cheeks, the bandage wrapped around her head tinted with spots of blood.
"Of course you should have been asleep! You've had a dreadful night. Assuredly more horrifying than anything I have had to endure. Get yourself back into that bed before you fall down."
"I am fine, mistress. Young Pitt left a hammock but he told me not to hang it from the hooks until you returned to the cabin… on account it might catch you about the throat and choke you when you came through the door."
Having only moments ago had the urge to choke Jonas Dante, Bella looked around and scowled anew. If she held her arms out straight and turned in a circle, her fingers would brush on all four walls. What little extra space was taken up by the berth built against one wall, a battered sea chest in the corner, and a washstand that had not been used in so long there was a petrified spider corpse curled up at the bottom of the basin. The pitcher, when she lifted it, held water, but when she sniffed it, the brackish smell suggested it had been there as long as the spider.
The air stank as well, like old sweat, mold, and a poorly trimmed tallow candle that sent up a thin line of black smoke in the corner.
"We're only here for a short while," Molly said, reading the look on Bella's face. "'Tis not as if we're sailing around the world."
"Only half of it."
"Mistress?"
Bella took a moment to quash the urge to throw something. Instead, she paced the ten steps to the other side of the cabin, turned, and paced back.
"The ship is underway, we have left the wharf, left London, and if the oh-so-compassionate Captain Dante is to be believed—and I have no reason whatsoever to doubt him—we will shortly be leaving England far behind."
"Leaving England?" Molly's mouth dropped open.
"He had offered to let us off in Truro, but now it seems we may well be bound for the tropics."
"Oh. Gracious."
"Indeed. Very gracious of the arrogant bastard." Bella rubbed her temple with trembling fingertips. Anger fizzled through her blood and her stomach seemed to rise up as the motion of the ship turned down. If not for the fact that neither she nor Molly could swim and both were terrified of water, she might have seriously contemplated jumping overboard. There were barges and ferries all up and down the river, surely one of them would be close enough to haul them out before they drowned.
"I am so sorry, Molly, for having dragged you into this mess."
"You've nothing to be sorry about, mistress. I lie abed at night sometimes and wonder what I might have become had you not taken me to Truro with you. I come over all drenched in sweat at some of the thoughts that take hold."
"I am not so certain being captive on board a pirate ship will make sleep come any easier."
Molly blanched even paler. "Captive?"
"I don't know how else to think of it. He refuses to go out of his way to let us off and we have no means of getting off by ourselves."
After a few moments of deep thoughts, Molly brightened a little. "I've heard the fishermen in Truro say the Ocean-Sea is a most beautiful sight to behold, naught but clear blue sky and silvery water stretching to the very edge of the world." She paused and a crease of concern reappeared on her brow. "Mind, they've also said that beyond that edge there be fire-breathing dragons, deadly creatures who lie in wait for sailors who venture too close."
"I am more concerned with dragons closer to home." Bella looked at the berth again and prodded the thin ticking with a cautious finger, guarded against anything jumping up at her. Lice would make the joy of her night complete.
Nothing hopped out of the bedding and because Molly was watching her with such a fearful expression, she forced her anger aside and smiled. "I'm certain there are no dragons at sea. Even if there were, doubtless any pirate worth his salt would know how to avoid them."
She winced and pressed a hand over the wound in her side. The bandaging felt soggy next to her skin but there was nothing leaking through the poultice Digger had applied.
She sighed and looked at the narrow berth again.
"Come, we can both fit and I am so tired I can hardly think straight."
The berth, less than a third the size of Dante's, felt more like a coffin with its high wooden sides. Molly pressed in beside her, spooning in a way that brought back memories of when they were together in Dimcock's coven and were forced to huddle together to keep warm.
Molly seemed to fall back asleep at once, but Bella found herself staring at the shimmering patterns thrown by the candlelight against the plank wall.
How had everything gone so wrong on what had begun as just another ordinary day? She was shot, she was homeless, she was sailing to a far-away world where fire-breathing dragons lay in wait. Her sailing experience was limited to the barges that travelled up and down the river. In Truro, she had often stood on the wind-blown cliffs overlooking the sea but never in her wildest dreamings had she envisioned herself on board a pirate ship under a pyramid of canvas, guns bristling on all decks and a red-haired devil standing at the helm.
The fact that the red-haired devil had undeniably saved her life tonight was of little consequence. Did she trust him? A ridiculous notion. He was a pirate, she was a thief, two of the least honorable entities she could imagine throwing together. Why should either of them trust the other?
As she listened to Molly's soft breathing in her ear, her eyelids grew heavy and a sigh emptied her lungs of all the pent-up frustrations. A tear threatened the corner of her eye but she squeezed it away and eventually her vision thinned to narrow slits… then receded into darkness.
Chapter Ten
Bellanna did not know what she wanted. If she covered herself with too many blankets, she became so hot she soaked the sheets in sweat. If she cast the blankets aside, she became so cold her whole body was soon a shivering mass. Her throat was dry and hot, so she drank like a man marooned in the desert for a month. But then her belly rebelled from the constant up and down motion of the ship and the nausea brought that same soured water spewing from her lips.
Molly helped as best she could, but she was not yet fully recovered from her own wounds and there were times both women had their heads hanging over the canvas bucket. Young Pitt stood outside the door and could hear the retching sounds. He brought some dry biscuits from the galley and some salty pickling brine recommended by Digger, but while Molly improved, it soon became evident that Bella's discomfort was not all caused by the rough waters of the Channel.
By the third evening on board, she was burning with fever.
Digger clucked his tongue as he lifted the edge of the yellowed, bloodied poultice covering her wound.
"I'm t'inkin' there mout be a scrap o' cloth left in there. Either wadding from the gun what shot 'er or a piece o' the frock when the ball passed t'rough. Wound wa'n't very deep an' the shot popped out wi' a squeeze, so I din't poke around, but aye, like as not there's a bit o' summit in there what shouldn't be."
He was talking to Hobson Grundy, who looked less than pleased at the pronouncement. The duke had persuaded the captain to lower away a jolly boat that evening when they would be passing close by the Lizard, the southernmost tip of English land that reached down into the Channel. He had even found a volunteer to work the oars, a relatively lazy lout who would not be overly missed. The weather had been surprisingly clear, the winds blowing steady in their favor.
"What should I tell the captain?"
Digger fondled his one tooth with the tip of his tongue. "Tell 'im she i'nt goin' anywheres any time soon, not unless it be a corpse 'ee wants to put in the gig. I'm gonny have to root out what's in there afore the putrefaction spreads."
Hobson blew out a breath and glanced up at the low ceiling. "He won't be happy."
"Is 'ee ever?"
"Please, sirs, what can I do to help?"
Molly McDevitt was standing behind them, her hands twisting together, her brown eyes wide and fearful.
Digger squinted in the dim light. "If ye've a mind, miss, I'll need ye to move the light close, an' when the time comes, ye might have to hold yer mistress still if she balks. No sense in sayin' it won't hurt on account it will. We'll give her as much rum as she'll take to help dull the pain. Mout be ye'll need a tot fer yerself as well, lass. Can't have ye fallin' over in a swoon."
"I'll not swoon, sir. Not so long as my mistress needs me."
Young Pitt was dispatched to get a bottle of rum as well as a large pan of hot water.
"A brazier an' some red 'ot coals as well," Digger shouted after him. "Fetch 'em from Chedley."
Grundy did not look pleased. "Are you certain the girl can't be moved? She'd surely get better medical attention on shore."
Digger thrust his tongue into his cheek and glared. "I'll keep them words to mind, ye pillock, if ye ever end up in my surgery."
Grundy looked clearly unhappy as he left the cabin to carry the news to his captain.
"Get yersel' over 'ere girl. Yer mistress be awake."
Molly returned to the side of the berth. Bella's eyes were open, but she was having trouble focussing. The whites were shot with little red veins and her lips were completely devoid of color, as pale as the skin on her cheeks and throat.
"Mistress…can you hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you," Bella murmured. "Both of you. What… what is happening?"
"You have the fever, mistress. Digger thinks there might be a bit of wadding left inside your wound from the shot. He has to cut it open again and take a look."
&nbs
p; "Oh good God. Can he not just kill me and be done with it?"
"There now, mistress, that would be the fever talking. You'll be getting rum in a moment and I promise you'll soon not feel a thing."
Bella's teeth rattled through a shiver. Sweat ran from her temples into her hair; it coated her whole body in a moist sheen. When Digger cut away the bandaging and peeled back the stinking poultice, Molly stood back a pace, for the wound was angry red and seeped pus. Digger touched it with his forefinger, releasing more sluggish yellow seepage and causing Bella to cry out. He nodded to himself and muttered over his black box, selecting the tools he would need.
The rum came and Molly managed to coax two cupfuls down Bella's throat. Digger swigged straight from the bottle and when he poked the wound a second time, getting no response, he deemed the patient fuddled enough to proceed.
~~
Bella's fever raged through the afternoon and night and all of the following day. Young Pitt was sent to inquire after her several times but Molly did little more than lift and shake her head before sinking it back onto the hard edge of the berth. She slept this way, close enough to detect any needs her mistress might have. On the third day Pitt dragged a thin pallet into the cabin and padded it with a mattress made of folded canvas.
When Bella's fever eventually broke, Molly was snoring softly on her bed of spare sails. The only one who noted the momentous event was Jonas Dante who had stopped there on his way to his own cabin. He touched a calloused hand to Bella's forehead and gently adjusted her blankets before backing out again.
~~
"This broth smells like boiled leather shoes."
Bella wrinkled up her nose and pushed the bowl aside.
"Little matter if it smells like shoes or the sailor wearing them, you must eat it," Molly insisted. She brought the bowl back and dipped a wooden spoon into it but Bella was lifting the edge of the blanket and peering underneath.
The Far Horizon Page 9