When Walter pulled the door open, the hinges screeched in protest. “I doubt it. He won’t want anyone to know about the women. New Orleans is a raw, rough city. At least along the river, it is.”
As soon as Walter left the room, Brian rushed to the portholes to see what he could from the sides of the ship.
“Come and eat, Brian,” Elena said. The woman seemed to worry about him as much as she did her niece.
He turned around to face the women. “We’ve entered the mouth of the Mississippi River. I want to see all I can before Walter takes me below.”
Angelina left her bowl of stew and came to stand near him. She looked out the porthole beside his. “It’s a long way to the bank.”
“Yes. The Mississippi is the widest river I’ve heard about.” Brian crossed the cabin and looked out a porthole on the other side. “We’re about in the center of the river. It’s as far to this bank as it is to the one on the other side.” He turned back and faced the women. “I’m hoping there are some settlements along here. We might need help with our escape.”
Elena glanced up from her meal and turned a piercing gaze toward him. “Are you so sure we’ll escape, Brian O’Doule?”
He smiled at the older woman. “Yes, I am. God has protected us this far. He won’t stop now.”
She returned his smile before starting to eat again.
Brian had only taken a few bites of his stew when Walter returned to take him back to the brig. While the two men walked across the deck, Brian etched as much of the surroundings into his memory as he could. He would contemplate what each thing meant while he was in his cell.
❧
After Brian left, Angelina paced from one side of the ship to the other, studying the banks of the river through the portholes. Sometimes the schooner shared the water with small fishing boats, but they were scattered far apart.
The pirate ship had been sailing up the river for two or three hours when Walter brought Brian back to the captain’s cabin. Angelina was glad to see him again so soon. Unfortunately, Etienne Badeau followed the other two men into the room. Angelina’s welcoming smile turned to a frown when she saw the pirate.
The giant man’s voice boomed. Brian translated the words into Spanish. “Mr. Badeau says we are approaching New Orleans. It’s important that no one knows you’re on the ship. Will you women agree to stay away from the portholes until he tells you it’s all right?”
Angelina didn’t want to agree. She wanted to scratch the pirate’s eyes out, if only she could reach them. “What will he do if we don’t agree?”
Brian grimaced. “Probably lock you somewhere without portholes.”
His expression begged her to agree. It occurred to her that he was talking about a cell such as the one where he was being held.
“All right.” She heaved a sigh. “We’ll stay away from the portholes.”
Brian relayed her answer to the pirate. Badeau’s eyes bored into her as if to gauge whether she was telling the truth. Finally, he gave a curt nod, then exited the cabin with Walter.
Brian came to Angelina and took her hands. “You did the right thing. We shouldn’t give Badeau any reason to doubt us. There is no way to escape right now anyway.”
Angelina studied Brian’s face. “Are we going to New Orleans?”
He released her hands and stepped back. “No. Walter told me the plantation is upriver from there. I don’t know how far.”
Elena put down her needlework and stood. “Do you think it is in the wilderness?”
“My guess is that it is.” Brian rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. Angelina wondered if he had a headache. “I can’t imagine him being anywhere near where other people live.”
❧
Brian’s prediction proved to be right. Even from his cell in the belly of the ship, he could tell when they sailed past New Orleans because he heard carousing. On through the evening hours and most of the night, the ship slid through the muddy river water at a slow speed.
Well before dawn, Brian heard the crew members moving around on deck. He felt the ship list to the right. He expected the movement to stop soon, but the river must have made a sharp turn or they had slipped into a tributary.
About dawn, Walter came to take Brian to eat with the women. When the two men stepped up on deck, Brian saw that the ship was anchored in a hidden cove. Huge trees with long, thin branches that brushed the ground surrounded the ship. Some kind of gray substance hung from most of the branches, giving the trees a ghostly aura. Bobbing in the water near the shoreline were several small boats with oars.
Brian leaned over the rail and looked at the water, which no longer looked as muddy. “Are we still on the Mississippi?”
“No. The river’s down that way.” Walter jerked his hand back over his shoulder. “We came up a bayou to get to this cove.” He hurried toward the cabin door.
“What’s that gray stuff on the trees?”
“Spanish moss.” Walter waited for Brian to knock before he inserted the key in the lock. “Kind of spooky, ain’t it?”
❧
When Brian arrived for breakfast, Angelina turned from looking out the porthole and watched Walter carry in the tray with their food.
“They’ll take us to the plantation house as soon as we finish eating.” Brian dipped a spoonful of porridge.
Angelina put her spoon back into her bowl. “How far is it from here?”
“I’m not sure.”
After they finished their meal, Walter led Brian and the two women out on deck, where a dinghy was tied to the side of the ship. One of the sailors sat in the back, manning the oars. Walter had Brian descend the rope ladder first. Then he helped Angelina over the side to start her descent. Brian guided her to the bottom of the small boat. When Angelina turned around, Aunt Elena started down the ladder.
Walter joined them, barking orders to the rower in the back. The sailor headed toward a slight opening between some low-hanging branches. The boat parted the curtains of Spanish moss and headed through a wide bayou.
Clinging to both sides of the boat, Angelina marveled at all they passed. Tall trees near the waterline held hanging gray fronds. Sunlight filtered through the limbs high above, casting an otherworldly glow on the shadows. Strange sounds surrounded them, echoing in the lofty branches. Insects swarmed around them, and Angelina and her aunt had to let go of one side of the boat to swat them away.
No one spoke, as if a word would break the spell surrounding them. A shiver started deep inside Angelina. She didn’t like the feel of this place. A log on the bank suddenly sprouted legs and walked toward the water. A low roar bounced across the water. Aunt Elena screamed and covered her face with her hands. Brian’s eyes widened.
“You might want to keep your hands inside the boat.” Walter’s voice penetrated Angelina’s thoughts. “Them gators might take a bite.” Brian repeated the words in Spanish.
Although she pulled her hands close to her chest, Angelina was mesmerized by the animal skimming just below the surface with two bulging, unblinking eyes sticking out of the water.
“If you don’t make any sudden movements or loud noises, it might just swim on by.”
Aunt Elena looked as if she were going to faint. Brian took the duenna’s hand to steady her. Angelina smiled her thanks to him.
When they rounded a bend in the waterway, Angelina could make out a two-story house in the distance. It sat on a rise above the water, surrounded by a large lawn.
When the sailor pulled the boat up to a dock, Walter stepped out on the wooden planks. “Brian O’Doule, if you promise not to give me any trouble, I’ll not tie you up.”
Brian nodded, then stepped out of the boat. The two men helped Angelina and Aunt Elena from the dinghy.
The four of them followed a path up the open hillside between two areas of moss-swaddled oak trees. When they neared the end of the walkway, Angelina was surprised to see that the two-story house was practically a mansion. What a surprise to find su
ch an impressive place in this godforsaken swamp.
A broad veranda spread across the front of the house, with a balcony the same width decorating the second story. Wide steps led up to the veranda. On either side of the steps, windows at ground level revealed the presence of a basement. At both ends of the structure, new walls had been put up, indicating that additional rooms were being added. The holes where the windows would go looked like vacant eyes.
As they walked up the steps that led to the portico, Angelina wondered if she and her aunt would be locked in the basement.
Walter opened the carved door and led the way into a foyer with a marble floor. The massive room was two stories tall, and curving staircases wrapped around each side of it. Before Angelina could take in all the amenities of the room, Walter started up the stairs. When the women didn’t follow, he turned back.
“Your rooms are up here.” He waited for them to cross the foyer before he continued up the stairs.
As they walked down the wide hallway, Angelina silently counted the doors they passed. “Are these all bedrooms?”
After Brian translated her question, Walter nodded. Then he unlocked the last door on the left and stepped back so the women could enter.
Such luxury! The house where she and her father lived was nice but it was nothing like this. The sun pouring through the windows on the far wall streamed across the hardwood floor, reflecting in its bright shine. Several paintings in ornate frames hung on the whitewashed walls. Although the room contained several pieces of furniture, they were arranged in pleasing settings and the area didn’t seem at all crowded. Its open feel would have been welcoming under different circumstances.
“Come with me,” Walter ordered Brian as he left the room. “You’re going to help us get the booty out of the ship.”
Angelina didn’t want Brian to leave. She felt less uncomfortable in this strange place with him there.
He hesitated just outside the door, looking back at her. With her gaze, she tried to communicate to him how much she wanted him to stay.
Walter pulled Brian out of the room, then locked the door on the women.
Angelina hurried across the room and stepped out on the balcony, where she watched the two men return to the dinghy. A breeze teased her hair, bringing welcome coolness from the smothering humidity of the swamp that surrounded the house and grounds.
They were still prisoners of Etienne Badeau, even if their cell was more luxurious than any prison she had ever heard of. God, what is going to happen to us here? Angelina felt a jumble of emotions whirl around inside her. After spending a year in Spain, all she wanted to do was go home to her father. Instead, she had become the prisoner of a horrible pirate. Everything in her world was out of control. She wanted to trust God, but it wasn’t easy. How much more could she take? When would this nightmare end?
Six
After watching Brian and Walter make their way down the long walkway to the boat dock, Angelina stepped back inside her suite of rooms in Badeau’s mansion. Aunt Elena stood in the middle of the sitting room, taking in the luxurious accommodations. Angelina’s heels sounded a quick staccato as she walked across the polished inlaid wooden floor to join her aunt.
“These are lovely.” Angelina walked over to two settees that faced each other across a low table on one side of the large room.
Aunt Elena dropped onto one of the couches. “They’re comfortable, too.”
On the other side of the room, two high-back chairs upholstered in fabric with a woven design of roses on a dark green background sat on each side of a smaller table. The flowers on the chairs were the same shade as the claret-colored fabric that covered the settees. A large oil lamp with a white shade rested on the table. It would be the perfect place to sit and read or write letters.
A mirthless laugh burst from Angelina. She knew the pirate wouldn’t let them write letters to their family. If her father had found out about the ship sinking, he would have assumed they all were dead. When that thought entered her mind, tears slipped down her cheeks.
Oh, Papá, I miss you so much.
Aunt Elena got up from the sofa and skirted around the table in front of it. She walked to the door in one wall. When she tried the knob, it turned. “I wonder what’s in here.”
Angelina hurried across the room to join her. The door opened into a large bedroom. The tallest four-poster bed she had ever seen sat against the opposite wall. It was so high off the floor they would need a step stool to get into it. A beautiful quilt covered the lofty mattress, and fluffy pillows leaned against the carved headboard. Angelina went over to test their softness. She wondered where the pirates had stolen these from. No woman would want to part with something she had lovingly pieced together, probably from scraps of the clothing her family had worn. If she weren’t so tired, Angelina would be tempted to request another room. Then she remembered that everything in this house had probably been stolen from someone.
Angelina found a stool pushed partially under the edge of the cover. She pulled it out and climbed up. When she lay on her back across the bed, her weary body sank into what had to be a feather mattress. After all the time on the two ships with their hard berths, sleeping in this bed would be heavenly.
A rocking chair with a needlepoint cushion on it sat near the washstand in each bedroom. Colorful flowers were painted on the pitcher and matching bowl. The dressing rooms off the bedrooms contained a large wardrobe with hanging space and drawers made of cedar. If Angelina unpacked everything in both her trunks, it wouldn’t have filled the space in her dressing room. She didn’t know anyone who owned enough clothing to fill both this wardrobe and the chest of drawers that sat across the room from the bed.
“Do you suppose we are to share this bedroom?” Aunt Elena walked over to the carved chest that had a large cheval glass above it. The frame of the mirror allowed it to tilt so they could see themselves from head to toe.
“I don’t know. There was another door on the opposite side of the parlor.”
Both women hurried toward it. Angelina turned the knob. They entered a space that was a twin to the other bedroom.
Angelina put her arm around her aunt’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We each have a bedroom of our own.” She walked to the windows overlooking the front lawn. “And both bedrooms have a door to the balcony.”
Aunt Elena trailed her fingers along the tall footboard of the massive bed. “This suite is larger than many houses.” She clasped her hands close to her chest. “But it is still a prison, isn’t it?”
Angelina nodded as tears once again slid down her cheeks. She reached up and swiped them away with the backs of her hands. In other circumstances, she would enjoy visiting a house like this, but not now. Not like this. How long would they have to be in this place, and how would they ever get back home?
❧
When Walter and Brian arrived at the schooner, Badeau put them to work helping the pirates unload the holds. The Estrella Angelina had not been the only ship the pirates had robbed on this voyage. Badeau assigned three crew members to each of the four small boats. After loading the dinghy with all the booty it could safely haul, two pirates and a rower made the trip up the bayou. When they reached the dock near the house, the pirates carried the load up the hill, and the rower waited for their return.
On their first trip to the house, Walter walked in front of Brian. Each man carried a well-used sea chest on his shoulders. The edge of the wood dug into Brian’s back, so he knew the chest he carried was full. The cabin boy led the way around to the back. Set at an angle in the ground, an open wooden door rested on an earthen mound, leading down a flight of steps to the basement.
As they descended the concrete stairs, Brian admired the large chiseled rocks that formed the outside wall on both sides of the stairwell. The stairs were steep, but the opening was wide enough for the men to get their burdens through the doorway.
The sun streamed through the portal, painting a large irregular rectangle across the
first room in the basement. Sturdy rock partitions divided the underground area into several rooms. Walter opened the door to one that was situated under the center of the house. The structure was partially filled with an abundance of merchandise, undoubtedly from other pirating forays.
“We’ll put these things against this wall.” Walter carefully set down the wooden box he carried and slid it into place along the wall. “Etienne likes to keep the booty from each voyage separated from the others. I think he tallies the take from each ship.”
Brian placed the box he carried next to Walter’s. It felt good to have the heavy weight off his shoulders. He stretched, trying to get the kink out of the middle of his back.
As they headed toward the stairs to the outside, Brian’s gaze darted around the shadowy basement. The windows didn’t give much light, but he couldn’t see any other way out of the area except the door where they’d entered. All the windows were near the ceiling, and they were too small for a man his size to squeeze through, even if he could reach one of them.
When he and Walter emerged from the basement, they met two more pirates carrying wooden crates on their shoulders. The men frowned at Brian. When he was in the brig on the schooner, he had heard some of the pirates complaining about his being allowed to eat with the women. Obviously they didn’t think he was being treated like a prisoner.
Moving all the merchandise and treasures from the ship to the plantation house took several hours. Before they finished, Brian was glad he had built up his strength with the good food on the pirate ship. He wouldn’t have lasted otherwise.
After he and Walter made their last trip up the hill, the Englishman led Brian to one of the other rooms in the basement. Vertical iron bars on the small window in the door proclaimed its use. Another cell. How was he ever going to escape from Badeau’s men and rescue the women?
Walter opened the door, and Brian glanced around the room. A tiny window near the ceiling let in a little light. At least the place had a bed with a thin mattress, making this prison better than the brig on the ship.
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