The Pirate's Jewel

by Cheryl Howe

  Nolan paused. He studied Wayland. The uncharacteristic seriousness of the pirate’s words chilled Jewel, too, despite the warm night and knee-length coat she wore over her breeches. She agreed that Nolan shouldn’t go alone. The way things appeared, he definitely needed help. And she’d be damned if she were going to sit around and watch him commit suicide.

  Nolan turned to Parker. “Mr. Tyrell, do you think you picked up enough expertise in being a drunken pirate to lead the men in this without Mr. Wayland?”

  Parker stood straighter, visibly composing himself. “Aye, Captain, I’m afraid I have.”

  Obviously struck by the absurdity of the situation, Nolan grinned. He turned away from the crew to hide his amusement, but Jewel’s position allowed her to catch it. She found herself thinking there was hope yet for her and him.

  He strode toward the longboats, forcing Jewel to retreat to the other side of the mast, and then stared across the dark bay. A handful of ships dotted the harbor, lanterns fore and aft. Their target was more lit than the rest, and loomed twice as large. “Wayland, you’re with me,” he said.

  “Aye, Captain.” The old sailor went to untangle the lines that held the boats below. Nolan halted him, a hand on his shoulder. “But before we set off, I’ll have your promise not to follow me on board.”

  Nolan’s back remained to Jewel, but she could see Wayland. The pirate’s good eye widened as if in surprise. “I never thought of it, Captain.”

  “Good. Let the crew go first. We’ll leave after they’ve gone.” Nolan turned back to Parker. “Mr. Tyrell, find Jewel. I want to make sure she is suitably occupied before we start our little excursion.”

  Jewel bit her tongue to keep from swearing. When they couldn’t find her below, Nolan would scour the deck. How could she help if she were confined to her quarters?

  Wayland spoke up, gathering several ropes in his hands. “Saw the chit below. Locked herself in her cabin.”

  Nolan studied him suspiciously. Wayland shrugged. “I think she’s pouting about something. Has been for the last few days. You know anything about it, Captain?”

  “Parker, go check anyway.” Nolan took the lines from Wayland’s hands.

  Parker looked paler than when he’d come back from shore. “What should I say?”

  Wayland stroked his thin gray beard. “Don’t you know a crying female makes a boy like Parker nervous?”

  Parker stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not nervous. I just don’t want to upset her any more. She hasn’t been happy lately.”

  Jewel didn’t have to see Nolan’s face to know he was losing patience. “All right, Wayland. Since you know so much about women, maybe you should go.”

  The pirate shrugged. “I already told you, I saw her below. I’m thinking you know more about what’s ailing her than me, anyway. You should go.”

  Nolan leaned over the side of the ship. “We don’t have time to argue about it. Let’s just get going. But if there’s any trouble with Jewel, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  Jewel let out her breath. She didn’t like the idea that everyone thought she was sulking, but it was working to her advantage. She kept to her hiding place until the crew who were playing pirates had swung over the railing and descended. A quick peek around the mast showed Nolan giving last-minute instructions to the remaining sailors. Wayland appeared to be gazing at the stars. She didn’t stop to question her good luck. She crept to the railing and swung her leg over.

  Trying to gain purchase on the bucking rope ladder while the ocean coughed and spat beneath her cooled Jewel’s enthusiasm considerably. Once she got the hang of moving her feet and hands in unison, she quickened her descent. Below, a tiny shape bobbed in a black sea that reminded her of a giant beast’s gaping jaws. She dared not look down again. In all her preparations for a life of adventure with her father, learning to swim had never occurred to her. As frightened as she was, the darkness below was a blessing. She aimed for the emptiest skiff. With any luck, everyone else would use the same process, no lantern, and would never see her huddled inside.

  In the bow, she found a pile of ruffled shirts, velvet vests, and jaunty tricorns, acquired on Nassau to disguise the rescued men. By the smell of them, Parker had snatched them from living, breathing pirates—drunken, sweaty pirates at that. Having no other choice, Jewel covered herself with the cast-offs and tried not to breathe too deeply. If she weren’t stepped on when the pilot entered the boat, she just might go unnoticed.

  It didn’t take long until she heard the rope ladder creak with someone’s weight, and the skiff where Jewel hid rocked with renewed violence. The craft settled as its new occupant found his way to the center of the boat, miraculously missing Jewel. Not a pinprick of light crept past her cover of clothes, assuring her that the man didn’t carry a lantern. Silence stretched for long minutes that seemed like hours until she heard the rope ladder creak again.

  “I told you to grab a lantern,” called Nolan from above.

  “Don’t want to alert the Neptune we’re coming, do ya?” answered Wayland.

  Jewel cursed under her breath. He was right next to her. She’d picked the worst possible boat.

  Nolan stepped into his own skiff, and the wake from his movement rocked Wayland’s boat again. “It would have been nice not to have to risk my neck before getting to the Neptune. It’s dark as pitch out here.”

  Wayland shifted his weight. A spray of water tickled Jewel’s back as the pirate used his oar to splash Nolan. “Bah. You crept around well enough in the dark when we was with Bellamy. I hate to see you going soft.”

  Another soft splash accompanied the feeling of forward movement. “Why do you insist on reminding me of things I’d rather forget?” Nolan asked. His voice sounded farther away. His boat and Wayland’s had been untied, and they must be rowing to their destination.

  Wayland chuckled. “You can run, lad, but you can’t hide.”

  “Shut up. Voices carry over water,” Nolan hissed.

  For the rest of the trip, the only sound was oars gliding through the water. Both men were well practiced in rowing, because nary a splash gave away their progress. Jewel tried hard not to move a muscle, though a plume from a tricorn found its way to brush against her nose. She pulled her sword closer to her body, hoping it didn’t stick out of the clothing.

  She wasn’t quite sure what she would do once they arrived at their destination. All she knew was that she had to be there. She’d abandoned her old life on a whim, and if she wanted to be in charge of her new one, she had to continue to trust her instincts rather than meekly allow others to guide her course. And thus far, her hunches had proved correct—both in finding the map’s secret and in going along on this expedition. It was madness for Nolan to try to rescue his crewmen alone.

  Their pace slowed, and Jewel could no longer detect even the slightest swish of oars. Parker’s voice carried over the water—at first faint, but growing ever stronger. “Aye, ya bloody…I know you got Sheila on board.” His words were slurred and faded in and out. The answering call from another ship was muffled. Then Jewel heard the roar of other voices. The crew of the Integrity was creating quite a distraction.

  “You think you can make it up without falling?” Wayland asked Nolan in a loud whisper.

  “I’ve climbed up an anchor cable before. When I get on board, I’ll drop over a ladder the men can use to get down here. Move under it.” Nolan sounded very close. Jewel assumed Wayland was holding his skiff.

  “First ya say don’t remind ya, and then you go and brag about your exploits,” the old pirate said.

  “Shh.” Nolan’s wordless command ended their discussion.

  “Like I said, he says one thing but wants the opposite,” Wayland said. He spoke softly enough for only Jewel to hear. She stiffened, but when he said nothing more, she assumed he was talking to himself. A few muffled paddle strokes propelled them away from Nolan until their skiff clunked against something solid.

  Jewel waited,
not sure what to do next. Wayland would see her unless he broke his promise to Nolan and followed him on board. Another sound, the distinctive clatter and creak of rope, signaled that a ladder had been unfurled from the Neptune. The skiff lurched as Wayland shifted to grab it.

  “Looks like he made it,” the old sailor said. “You would think he’d realize he’s not as different from the man he was before. Thinks he’s all polished brass and book learning now. Book learning can’t climb up no anchor cable, and it sure won’t keep a man warm at night.”

  Jewel never realized how much Wayland talked to himself. His one-sided conversation flayed her already raw nerves. As it was, she struggled with what she should do next.

  “What do you think, Jewel?” Wayland asked.

  She stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from gasping. Did he imagine she was there, or did he know? He sounded so matter of fact, as if her presence was as ordinary as milk with tea.

  “Come on, chit. You better get on with it,” he said, his impatience clear.

  Jewel sat up, the bundle of extra clothes falling from around her. “How did you know?”

  Wayland perched on a bench in the middle of the boat, clutching a long oar he’d strung through the rope ladder to keep them in place. “You’re as clear as that swill Nolan serves as grog. If he weren’t smitten with you, he might see through you, too.”

  Jewel straightened her clothes and adjusted her scabbard. “Thanks for not giving me away.”

  Wayland nodded. He gestured to the rope ladder. “If you want to help, get on with it.”

  Jewel looked at the rope. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Wayland shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I got you here. You have to figure out the rest.”

  Jewel stood, almost falling at the boat’s abrupt lurch. She caught her balance, grabbed the first rung and hauled herself out of the skiff. “I think Nolan needs me.”

  “I been saying that all along.” Wayland put his hand on her rump and propelled her up. “Hope you know how to use that sword.”

  Jewel nodded, and then continued up the ladder. The idea of using her sword in a real battle suddenly filled her with dread. Though she’d practiced with Harvey until her arm and shoulder ached, the idea of facing an armed opponent slowed her pace. Fear weakened her limbs. If Nolan’s plan went right, she wouldn’t have to test her skills against a trained soldier, but then he wouldn’t need her help either. She didn’t know why, but she felt her presence would change everything. Focusing on the fact that Nolan was alone, she swiftly pulled herself up the rest of the way.

  She hauled herself over the railing and soundlessly slid to the deck. There she crouched and waited. Across the way, she could hear laughter and jeers from the Neptune’s crew, who appeared to be enjoying an exchange with Parker and his men.

  She slunk into the shadows, watching the guards. Following Nolan would leave the rope ladder unguarded, and she didn’t know her way around. She suddenly had second thoughts. What good was she doing Nolan hiding in the shadows?

  Her struggle with indecision ended abruptly when she spotted a line of silhouettes creep across the deck in her direction. She pressed herself farther into her hiding place. Before she could do a thing to help, Nolan reached the rope ladder, followed by ten men. He signaled for them to start down. Keeping a constant vigil on the guards, he glanced periodically at the progress of his recently freed crew. Jewel realized he was going to be furious when she revealed herself. He hadn’t needed her after all, and she would be just one more person who had to get down the ladder before they could make their escape.

  “Hey, you. Who goes there?” called a voice from the darkness. The last of the escaping seamen paused on the top rung of the ladder. Nolan leaned over and pushed his head down, out of view.

  “You’re one of the new men,” the unidentified voice continued. “Sorry, mate—you know the newly pressed fellows can’t go ashore. You wouldn’t be thinking of jumping, would ya?”

  Nolan glanced over the railing again, and, apparently satisfied the last man had reached the waiting skiff, freed the rope ladder. It dropped down over the side. Jewel held her breath to keep from stopping him. How the hell was she going to get down?

  “Wouldn’t think of jumping. Can’t swim. I’m a land man, you know,” he responded.

  Jewel wondered why Nolan didn’t act the officer as he had planned and just tell the guard to go away. She tried not to panic, trusting he knew what he was doing.

  The guard appeared beside Nolan. “Yeah, that’s what they all say. It’s a long way down.” He leaned on the rail and looked over.

  Before he had a chance to speak, Nolan hit him on the head with the butt of a pistol, and then caught the guard and soundlessly laid him on the deck. In the process, he came nose to nose with Jewel.

  “Bloody hell,” he growled, low and menacing. He reached out and gripped her arm in a bone-crunching hold.

  A shout from across the deck forced him to release her. “Hey, Martin, you see any ...”

  The voice trailed off. The second guard must have spotted Nolan and his fallen comrade. The hiss of steel sounded as he drew his sword. Nolan did the same. Swords clanked as they joined battle. Nolan thrust again and again, making sure his opponent was too busy defending himself to call for reinforcements. The last fight she had witnessed with Nolan flashed through Jewel’s mind. He’d been a clumsy youth that night he’d challenged her father in the sandy alley outside the Quail and Queen, and he’d been royally trounced. She prayed he’d sharpened his skill since. Judging from his opponent’s frantic parries, he had.

  Jewel slid against the side of the ship, staying crouched and hidden while she watched Nolan’s fight. He pushed his foe toward the Neptune’s stern, away from her. He appeared to be winning effortlessly until suddenly he lurched to the left and his opponent slashed his arm. His hiss of pain carried across the deck.

  Jewel leaped into action. The man Nolan had hit over the head had somewhat recovered, and he had crawled into the fray and grabbed Nolan’s ankle. Crouching, Jewel tugged on the downed man’s boots and tried to yank him away before he could cause any more trouble.

  He kicked her off easily. She landed hard on her side but managed to scramble to her feet before he did. His wooziness from the earlier knock on the head gave her enough time to draw her sword. She stood motionless, with it poised as Harvey had taught. Her heart swelled in her throat. She had never had a real fight before, and the rush of excitement mixed with fear made it hard to think. She struggled to remember Harvey’s instructions.

  Her opponent drew his sword without any such nervous hesitation—though not as swiftly as if he had not been recently injured. His sluggish movements might save her. He struck her blade with his, and it sent a rattle up her arm. She could hear swords clank violently nearby. Nolan’s wound must have slowed him, because it sounded as if he was fighting for his life. Her own opponent’s dulled reactions gave her time to compose herself. She loosened her grip, bent her knees and thrust, hoping to knock the sword from the clumsy, injured man.

  His reflexes were rapidly improving, though, and he parried before she had a chance to formulate another move. Thankfully, information from her daily lessons came back to her instinctively. She met his thrust with one of her own. The battle was on. She used the sword as an extension of her body. The man stepped back and readjusted his stance, as if he had suddenly decided to take her seriously.

  Jewel stopped thinking and let her training take over. Thrust right. Parry left. Look for the open spot.

  She faked low. Her opponent followed her movement, and a target presented itself. She thrust hard. Her blade sank into the center of her opponent’s chest. He staggered back, while Jewel prepared for his next attack. Even in the dark, she witnessed his expression of stunned surprise as he fell to his knees. Only then did she notice the red swatch that spread across his white vest. He still gripped his sword, but it hung loosely by his side.

  She glanced down at her bl
ood-coated blade. It suddenly occurred to her that she held a deadly weapon instead of the sawed-off broomstick she’d used to practice with Harvey. She dropped her sword and ran to the downed man. He had rolled onto his side, his legs sprawled awkwardly. He had stopped gasping, stopped breathing at all.

  Jewel dropped to her knees and heaved him onto his back. She placed her hand on his soaked shirt, thinking she might stop the blood—take back what she had done. He stared without blinking. She slapped his cheek, hoping he was just stunned. A bloody imprint stained his tan cheek, but he didn’t even blink. She angled his face so she could see his eyes, praying she’d find a sign of life. To her shock, he appeared her own age. Maybe even younger. As he stared—wide-eyed, mouth open in a desperate, last breath—he looked harmless. He could have been one of her customers at the Quail and Queen. He might have been one of her customers.

  “No!” she whispered fiercely and shook him. “Wake up.”

  A strong arm snaked around her waist and yanked her off her feet. She was dragged away from her victim before she knew what was happening. Even so, she couldn’t react. Her world had tilted and everything looked different. She didn’t know if she could stand, but Nolan didn’t give her the chance to find out. He half-carried, half-dragged her to the railing.

  She saw another fallen man. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t moving. “Is he dead, too?” she whispered, and closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t bear to witness any more bloodshed. Her stomach already threatened to empty.

  Nolan lifted her over the rail. “Can you swim?”

  She opened her eyes. “No.”

  “Then hold on.” Before she had time to think what he meant, he had climbed over. He had one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. She realized what he was about to do only seconds before they were falling.

  Thankfully she had not looked before they leapt, but the drop seemed like forever. She clutched at Nolan. They hit the water so hard, Jewel thought she might lose consciousness. She instinctively gasped for breath and got a lungful of burning water. She lost her grip on Nolan, sure she wouldn’t open her eyes again. Instead of sinking deeper, he held her tightly pressed against his chest. The urge to struggle, to get away from the pressure that gripped her lungs, forced her to try to shove him away. He only held her tighter, pinning her arms against her. Somehow they surged up above the waterline before Jewel had the chance to suck in any more water. She choked and sputtered, gasping for breath.