What was happening with Angelina and her aunt? Had Badeau taken his anger out on them when the man found out that he had escaped? Brian gazed at the stars twinkling in the sky. Please, Father God, keep the women safe. Don’t let Badeau hurt them because of me. And please help us find the place we need tomorrow.
❧
When Walter brought their breakfast, Angelina smiled at the Englishman. She thanked him in Spanish for all he did for them. The way he nodded, she was sure he understood her intent if not her words.
After they were finished eating, Walter returned for the dishes. Before he could put them on his tray, Angelina pulled the letter from her pocket and held it out to him. He looked at it as if it were a snake that would bite him. He shook his head, refusing to take the paper in her hand.
“Por favor, señor,” she pleaded.
He gave his head a more vigorous shake and began gathering the dishes onto the tray.
Angelina touched his arm. He jerked back as if he had been burned. Undaunted, she thrust the paper toward him. This time he took it, but instead of putting it in his pocket, he tore it into pieces. He left the scraps of paper on the table, then exited.
Tears of disappointment filled Angelina’s eyes. Walter had always treated her and Aunt Elena with great respect. She had begun to think he felt sorry for their plight. But she must have been mistaken. Or maybe he was afraid that if Badeau ever found out, he would be severely punished. After all, hadn’t Brian escaped while Walter was in charge?
Angelina picked up the pieces of parchment and Brian’s Bible. She tucked each piece between the pages and bowed her head over the holy book. Their only hope now was God.
❧
A cock’s crow somewhere on the banks of the river signaled the dawn. Brian felt as if he had just laid his head on the hard pillow, but he opened his eyes and sat up. Today could be the day when he would be able to return to Angelina at the plantation house. After dressing, he met the captain on deck.
“Do you have our day planned out?” The skipper studied Brian’s expression.
“It would probably be best if we took a small boat and posed as fishermen until we reach New Orleans. Do we have one without a name painted on the side?”
O’Rourke pointed to two small boats resting on deck, their oars beside them. “How many people should go?”
Brian judged the size of the overturned dinghy. “I don’t think more than two or three. Do you have any fishing equipment?”
“We always keep a few poles and hooks.” O’Rourke nodded toward where the poles were tied against the wall.
The captain asked his men to bring their sea chests on deck. He explained to the crew what they needed to do. Then he and Brian went through the chests to find the clothes they would need as they masqueraded as fishermen and then as pirates. None of the men had shaved since they left St. Augustine, so their beards would fit right in with either of the roles.
When Brian finished dressing in fisherman’s clothes and filling a kit bag with the pirate disguise, he looked down at himself. He had worn rough clothing all those years he had been a sailor before he worked for Señor Fuente. Sometimes he wore older clothes when he worked in the warehouse, but he had gotten used to dressing like a gentleman. Looking like this, he felt as if he were going backward instead of moving ahead in his life. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t even care if some people thought he was an outlaw. Nothing was more important than his mission.
When the three men reached New Orleans, they would shed their fisherman’s clothing and don the pirate disguises. Most of the people they came into contact with there would likely think they were outlaws. They certainly wouldn’t be able to mingle with polite society. But Brian didn’t care. Everything would be worth it when he was able to rescue Angelina and her aunt, removing them from the clutches of the evil pirate.
Soon Brian, the captain, and a sailor named Murphy were in the small boat, headed upriver toward New Orleans. Murphy rowed while the other two men tried to catch some fish. If they had a few in the boat when they arrived on shore, that would keep people from becoming suspicious.
As it turned out, no one seemed to take much notice of the three men when they tied up at the wharf. The waterfront of New Orleans was like that of any port—dirty, smelling of rotting fish, and with riffraff loitering about, watching other people work.
After slipping into an empty alleyway and switching into the pirate clothing, the men made their way through a quiet section of the city. When they moved beyond the sights and sounds of the waterfront, stores and shops dotted the sides of the streets. As Brian looked down one of the thoroughfares, he noticed homes behind tall iron fences several blocks away. He wondered how far they would have to go to find a place to sleep while keeping vigil for the pirates.
After wandering the streets for over an hour, the trio turned a corner and saw just what they sought. A carved wooden sign proclaiming Pirate’s Lair hung from a signpost in front of an English-style pub. Brian nodded to the two other men. “There it is.”
“Should we go in together?” O’Rourke asked.
Brian gave it a moment’s thought. “Maybe not. We won’t draw as much attention if we wander in at different times.”
Brian went in first. He pulled his hat down to shadow his face and stepped into the smoky interior. A huge fireplace on one wall contained a smoldering log. He walked up to the bar and asked if they served breakfast.
“What’s your pleasure?” The man behind the counter stopped drying the mug he held in his hand. “Ale and porridge perhaps?”
Brian shook his head. “Too early in the morning for ale. How’s your water?”
The man cackled. “I’d stick to the ale.”
Soon after Brian sat at one of the long tables, O’Rourke came in with Murphy. After they obtained some bread and cheese from the man behind the counter, they sat at the other end of the table from Brian. All three men kept their heads down and looked as if they were concentrating on their food. Brian took furtive glances at all the people in the room, keeping his ears open to catch any word that might lead them to Badeau or any of the pirates with him.
By midmorning, each of the three men had sauntered out of the pub and walked down the block to their prearranged meeting place. O’Rourke looked wound up as tight as a seven-day clock. “Nothing happened, did it?”
“It may take time,” Brian tried to reassure him.
The captain scratched his chin. “You said the plantation was quite a ways up the river. Maybe we should buy a fishing boat that’s large enough for sails. It could take a long time to row upriver against the current. The pirates might get away from us.”
Brian nodded. He had been trying not to spend too much of Señor Fuente’s money. But he knew the man would want them to do whatever it took to rescue his daughter.
The men proceeded to the wharf. They sauntered along the waterfront, making small talk about fishing while keeping an eye on the boats for sale. When they found one that met their needs, they purchased it and moved it to the dock beside their dinghy.
Brian felt good about the deal they made. They hadn’t spent nearly as much money as he had anticipated. “After we find a place to stay, we can work out a rotation. Someone should be in the pub around the clock, so we’ll sleep in shifts.”
They found a squatty inn a couple of blocks up the street from the pub, and Brian rented a second-floor room. He hoped they wouldn’t need it more than a day or two.
O’Rourke took the first shift in the pub. Murphy would follow him. Brian went up to the room. Before he slipped into bed, he spent time on his knees.
Father God, we can’t do this without Your help. Please protect the captain and Murphy from detection. Hold Angelina and her aunt close to Your heart and protect them from any harm.
Eleven
A bellowing voice shouting English words with a French accent announced to Angelina that Etienne Badeau had returned. Evidently Walter had told him that Brian had escaped.
“What do you mean, he’s not here?” The pirate captain’s voice was even louder than before.
Walter gave a long explanation, but his words were too subdued to understand.
“Assemble all the men on the front lawn.” Badeau’s words echoed through the house.
Angelina stayed inside the room but peeked around the window facing and watched the men hurrying to obey the captain’s commands. Most of them looked frightened. After a long, animated discussion, Badeau told Walter to dismiss the men. Then he strode toward the house. Angelina moved back so he would not see her spying on them.
“What is happening, mi ángel?” Fright covered Aunt Elena’s face.
Angelina went to her companion and put her arms around the older woman. “Badeau has returned. I believe he knows Brian is gone.”
Elena sat on one of the couches and picked up a pillow top she had just started working on the day before. The repetitive work seemed to keep her aunt from losing control of her emotions in crisis situations.
Moments later, Angelina heard heavy footsteps ascend the stairs and stop outside the door.
“Walter,” the captain hollered, “bring the key!”
Angelina held her breath.
The door opened without the usual knock. Badeau strode into the room, followed by Walter. The Englishman stood with shoulders slumped, hands clasped in front of him. Angelina had never seen him look so cowed.
“Do these women know where the Irishman is?” Badeau asked in English.
Angelina kept her features emotionless to keep from letting the man know that she understood what he said.
“We could not find out what they know. No one here speaks Spanish.” Walter bowed his head slightly.
Badeau paced toward the open doors of the balcony. He leaned his huge hands on the door facings, his glare turned toward the view outside, but Angelina could see the tight set of his jaw muscles.
She perched on the edge of the settee and folded her hands in her lap. She clasped them together to keep them from quivering. Nothing could still her heart and stomach.
Badeau turned and stared at her. She lowered her eyes, but peeked out from under her lids.
“Are the women scared of me?” the captain asked.
Walter shrugged. “You have been shouting a lot this morning.”
Badeau gave a snort. “I won’t hurt the women. I haven’t changed my mind about marrying the younger one.”
Angelina couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. She was glad the captain was looking at Walter, because she knew it would anger him even more if he saw her reaction.
“Have the men found any trace of the Irishman?”
Angelina eagerly awaited the answer.
“No, Etienne. Nothing.”
Her heart sank.
Badeau laughed. “He knows nothing about this country. One of the gators probably had him for supper.”
He came to stand near Angelina. She stared at his boots in front of her. To her surprise, his large hand touched her chin, raising it gently until she was looking up at the man’s face. His smile twinkled along with the gold in his teeth.
“I need to talk to her.” Badeau removed his hand and turned toward Walter. “Are you sure there is no one on the crew who speaks Spanish?”
Walter shook his head. “No one.”
“Then send a man into town and find someone who does.”
“Whatever you say, Etienne.”
Angelina realized she had been holding her breath ever since the man touched her. She slowly released it, trying not to make any noise. She glanced at Aunt Elena and saw that her face was as white as the cloth she worked on. Angelina hoped her companion wouldn’t faint before the men left.
“I have some gifts for Angelina. Let’s go get them.” Badeau led the way out the door, and Walter locked it behind them.
Angelina wilted against the back of the settee and placed one hand over her eyes. Father God, please protect us until Brian returns. Somehow, in her heart, she couldn’t believe that Brian was dead. She still felt a connection with him, even though he wasn’t present.
Later that day, Etienne Badeau came back to their room. Walter accompanied him, carrying four new dresses. The pirate captain watched as Walter laid them over one of the chairs. He presented them to Angelina one at a time.
Afraid to reject them, she ran her fingers over the fabric and admired the colors and textures. Each one was a different color, all of them lavishly decorated with lace. They weren’t suitable for day wear. They could only be worn for parties or a dress-up dinner. She tried to smile her thanks, but she knew that if the pirate looked into her eyes, he would see that the smile was insincere. Thankfully, he didn’t get that close.
Later, when Walter brought their evening meal, Badeau arrived with him. As the captain studied Angelina, his expression indicated he was disappointed about something. She didn’t know what until she heard him whisper to Walter that she was not wearing one of her new dresses.
Although they ate together, there could be no conversation between them. Angelina tried to act as if she were enjoying his company, but she had a hard time forcing the food down her throat, which was tight from unshed tears. When she peeked at Aunt Elena, she saw her duenna moving her spoon around in the rich broth of the turtle soup.
Eventually, the men left the women alone.
The next day, Badeau and Walter brought Angelina a string of pearls along with earrings, a ring, and a bracelet to match. When Walter laid them in her lap, she fingered their smooth surfaces, wondering whether he had bought them or if some woman somewhere was yearning for her lost jewelry. She wished the man would stop bringing her gifts. She didn’t know how to react to keep from making him angry. But she knew she could never place them on her body.
Early the next morning, Angelina went out on the balcony to read the Bible. Moments later, she heard Badeau and Walter on the porch below, their voices drifting up to her.
“What is wrong with Miles?” Badeau sounded as if he really cared.
“He hasn’t been happy since you captured the women.” Walter hesitated, then continued. “He thought you should just kill everyone. Then you took his cabin on the ship. You’ve made him work on this house, and he only wants to be a sailor. Now you’re in a foul mood since you can’t communicate with the women.”
“She accepted the gifts I gave her, but she hasn’t used any of them.” The captain’s voice sounded closer, so Angelina guessed he must have stood. “I thought she would wear one of the dresses or at least put on the jewelry. Wouldn’t most women be glad to receive such nice things?”
“I’m sure they would. But you can’t take it out on the men. Miles is threatening to leave. He probably would have by now if you had divided the loot with them.”
“That’s why I haven’t done it yet. I want to keep the men here until everything is finished.”
The next words were quieter; Angelina figured the two men must be entering the house.
She closed the Bible and bowed her head. In the stillness of the morning, she poured her heart out to her heavenly Father. When she fell silent to wait for Him, a sweet voice spoke to her heart. Wait for now. I am in control.
A new hope sparked to life and burned in her heart.
❧
For three days, Brian and his friends kept the Pirate’s Lair pub under surveillance. He tired of the monotony. Sleeping, eating, walking around the city that was sleepy in the daytime and jumping at night. Sometimes he talked to God while he walked, always lifting up Angelina and Elena, praying for their protection. He hoped he and his shipmates would find the pirates soon. But he knew it might take awhile before any of them would come to New Orleans.
Shortly after Murphy sauntered out the door of the pub, Brian went in. He ordered a bowl of stew and hot corn bread. Darkness was rapidly descending outside the open door. He slathered butter on the hot bread and sank his teeth into it. By the time he finished chewing, two men came in from the street. They ordered tanka
rds of ale and brought them to sit at the other end of the long table from Brian.
He glanced up and almost dropped his spoon in the bowl. One of the men was Miles Henderson, Badeau’s first mate. Pulling his hat brim lower over his eyes, Brian turned away. He hadn’t recognized the other man, but when the sailor spoke, Brian remembered hearing his voice outside his cell on the pirate ship. Finally, they were getting somewhere. That is, if these two men were still with Badeau.
The longer they drank, the louder their voices became.
“All Etienne thinks about is that woman.” The sailor with the first mate sounded angry.
“Too bad he can’t talk to her anymore.” Henderson threw back his head and laughed. “Actually, I’m glad the Irishman escaped. Badeau had things too easy. It’s time something didn’t go his way. He tries to control everyone around him. At least he can’t control the women—except for keeping them locked up.”
The other man joined the laughter, then ordered another round of drinks.
Their shared confidences and tales grew louder and longer, filling the tavern with unbelievable stories that everyone in the room could hear. Henderson leaned his arms on the table as if he was having trouble staying upright. His mate propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand just to hold his head up. He lifted the tankard with the other hand and took long swigs of the bitter ale. The men looked as if they would be drinking most of the night if they didn’t fall into a drunken stupor.
“You think Badeau will figure out we’re gone?” The nameless sailor set his tankard on the table, sloshing some of the ale out of it.
Henderson gave a snort of derision. “I don’t care. I’ve half a mind to make Walter open the treasure room for us when we get back. Part of the loot belongs to us, after all. If we got our hands on what’s rightfully ours, we wouldn’t have to take orders from that man any longer. If he didn’t dole out just a little bit of money at a time, most of us wouldn’t keep working for him. We’re sailors, not carpenters. And I, for one, want to get back out to sea.”
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