Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  When at last quiet fell, Nicole went into Saber's private quarters and peered out of a porthole. The packet had put up a gallant fight, but she had been no match for La Belle Garce. Her main mast was gone, her sails in shreds, and she was floundering badly. Her deck was Uttered with wounded men and even as Nicole stared, the ship struck her colors. A cold lump in her throat, Nicole turned away from the scene of carnage. Why did he have to attack English ships? she wondered dully.

  It was easy to forget that the United States was at war with Britain; it took an event like today's to remind her of Mr. Madison's war. The campaign in Canada was far removed from Nicole. It was almost as if different countries were involved. The violent battles on the Great Lakes and the blockade on the Chesapeake meant little to her. She could see little reason to become excited about a battle that was weeks or even months old and the outcome already established. New Orleans and the Caribbean were a great distance from the British attack on Fort Stephenson on the Sandusky River in northern Ohio. But now with the victorious crew of La Belle Garce boarding the disabled packet and her officers and men being taken prisoner, Mr. Madison's war—the "Printmaker's War"—was very real and very close.

  The door opened and she looked up quickly, her heart lurching a little at the sight of Saber. There was a streak of blood across his forehead and under one arm he carried a small hide-and-brass chest. His eyes were blazing yellow-gold with victory, and his black hair was wind ruffled, adding unnecessarily, Nicole thought waspishly, to his already unfair attractiveness. Flashing her a jubilant white grin, he tossed the small chest down on the table and said, "We've found a treasure, Nick! One which the British Navy would pay highly to recover from us."

  Her natural curiosity prompted her to come closer. The lock that had previously sealed the chest had been blown apart from the shot of a pistol, and what was left of it clattered to the floor. Peeking inside, Nicole was disappointed to see only a few small black books and some papers.

  A perplexed look in her eyes, she asked, "What are they?"

  It was Allen coming up quietly behind her who answered, "British code books."

  An ominous silence followed Allen's words. Staring blankly at the opened chest Nicole was aware that Saber was watching her closely. She kept her features as unrevealing as possible, hiding the dismay that filled her. Unhappily she wondered how Allen felt about the capture of those little books—those little books that unlocked the British dispatches that had been unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of the Americans; those little books, Nicole thought with confused emotions, that would give the Americans an unfair advantage over the English.

  Saber sat down on the table near the chest, lit a thin black cheroot and lifted a book from the chest. Allen couldn't help himself and made an involuntary movement forward, almost as if he meant to snatch the book from Saber's hand. Saber glanced over at him, an unpleasant smile on his mouth, and drawled. "Interested in them, Ballard?"

  Allen controlled himself and answered calmly, "Not particularly. But they explain why the packet fought so desperately. I only wonder why the captain didn't destroy them before allowing them to fall into enemy hands?"

  Saber shrugged. "He was foolish enough to wait until the last minute before trying to dispose of them. He was caught as he was about to shove them over the side." His eyes on Allen's face he added, "A pity, isn't it, that he wasn't quicker."

  Allen remained silent and Saber, apparently losing interest in him, idly flipped through the pages. "Hmmm, I can't make much sense of it, but I'm certain the military at New Orleans will be delighted with them." Then as Allen made no move to leave, he looked at him pointedly and said, "Haven't you something to do on deck?"

  A dark red stained Allen's neck, and without another word he spun on his heel and walked stiffly from the room. Saber watched him until the door closed on the retreating back and then his gaze swung to Nicole's face. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, and for the life of her she could think of nothing to say.

  At odds within herself, torn between loyalty to America and Saber, too, and the knowledge that those little books could cost hundreds of British lives, it was all she could do not to snatch the books held so carelessly in that lean hand, scoop up the chest and throw it out the nearest porthole. Her thoughts must have betrayed her, for Saber gave a harsh snort of laughter and murmured, "I wouldn't try it, Nick. And if I were you, I'd learn damned quickly not to wear what I felt so openly on my face."

  Boldly, her eyes fighting his, although her heart thudded like a drum in her chest, she said, "I'm afraid I don't understand you, sir. What do you mean?"

  Taking the cheroot from between his teeth and tossing the book back into the chest, he stood up. The action put him alarmingly close to Nicole, and she couldn't help taking a nervous step backward. His laugh was more like a pleased growl, she thought warily, as he moved close to her. It was all she could do not to keep retreating from him, and she had the feeling that was exactly what he was trying to make her do. Compelling herself to remain where she was, she stared up at him, his mouth with its wicked slant only inches from hers. For a moment their eyes locked and she had the insane notion he meant to kiss her. She had seen the flicker of desire that danced in his eyes when he wanted a woman too often to mistake it, and she could have sworn that for just an instant, a tiny second, it had flashed in his eyes. But if it had it was quickly shuttered. Growing more confused every moment, Nicole swallowed painfully and repeated stupidly, "What did you mean?"

  "I think you know very well what I mean, Nick." Then he quite literally paralyzed her by running one long finger down the side of her face and muttering, "Such soft skin for a youth, Nick. I wonder, are you really a boy?"

  Galvanized by pure fear, she jerked her head away and speedily put the width of the room between them. Gruffly, the huskiness of her voice deepened by fright, she said, "Don't be ridiculous! Of course I'm a boy! What else could I be? I think you're in a strange mood lately, sir, and I wish you would not take out your odd humors on me!"

  "An odd humor, is it? I wonder?" he mused slowly. Then he gave her a level glance, his eyes enigmatic as they rested on her, and she wished most fervently that he would leave. For a minute she thought he would continue his unnerving questions, but his eyes shifted from her to the code books. Shrugging his shoulders as if he had grown tired of this particular game, he walked over and picked up the small books.

  "These, I think, are best locked in the safe." So saying he sauntered from the room into his own quarters. With warring emotions she watched him deposit them in the safe near his bed. He possessed the only key that unlocked it, and its size, larger than a man and several times heavier, prevented it from being stolen.

  There was nothing she could do to stop him, she realized bleakly, uncertain if she even really wanted to. At least with the books locked in his safe, they did no one any harm!

  Not so strangely Nicole found herself very much in a quandary—she had a great fondness for the United States, yet she still thought of herself as English. And those little black books put her in a very uncomfortable position indeed. One part of her wanted them destroyed and yet, deep inside, she sympathized with the Americans. Sighing unhappily, she discovered that she no longer knew what she thought of the war between England and the United States.

  Seeking a breath of air that night, she saw Allen as she walked alone near the bow of the ship, and she told him that she wished the books would vanish. Allen threw her a peculiar look and asked, "Doesn't it bother you that the Americans will use the information against your own countrymen—that a lot of British sailors are going to die as a result?"

  Feeling inexplicably guilty, as if it were her fault that the wretched books had been found at all, Nicole said in a small voice, "Yes, it does. But, Allen, we are at war and I'm certain that the British ships manage to steal American secrets too!"

  Allen's face tightened. "Listen, you little fool," he snarled in a harsh undertone, "Britain is fighting for her life�
�do you think this war is being fought for amusement?"

  The struggle within herself increasing, Nicole whispered unhappily, "No. But, Allen, please understand—it is very hard for me to take sides—I have been away from England for five years and all I have known during that time are Americans."

  Allen's features froze and the blue eyes went nearly black with some strong emotion. His fist clenched as it rested near Nicole's own, and she had the troubling feeling that if they were somewhere safe from prying eyes, he would have shook her with anger.

  Then slowly she asked out loud the question that had lain between them for so long. "You're not truly a British deserter, are you, Allen?"

  She couldn't read his expression in the darkness but she felt his tenseness. There was silence for several long seconds; both of them stared out over the rail at the sea that flowed endless and black before them.

  Finally Allen said, "Let's just say I would like to see this damn war over! And that I'll do everything within my power to see that it ends as quickly as possible."

  Nicole swallowed, uncertain whether she was glad or not that Allen had refused to answer her. Did it really matter? The important thing was that the war end, and was it truly imperative that one take sides? Nicole thought not.

  Pensively she murmured, "I, too, would do anything to help bring about the end. It's not right that two countries with such close ties should be at war with one another."

  Quickly Allen said, "Then help me, Nick! Those code books will lead to more bloodshed, more men and ships lost to both sides. But if we were to steal them from Saber—steal them and destroy them—then neither side would have them."

  "Steal them from Saber?" she asked uncertainly, not liking the idea of pitting herself against him.

  "Yes! We have to, Nick. If those books and papers are destroyed, then not only will the Americans not have them, but neither will the British! Don't you see—it will save the lives of many men—Americans and British. Help me!"

  Still Nicole hesitated, knowing Saber would be furious and that she was being disloyal. But then, convinced that she would be helping to end the war, and in some hidden recess realizing that by throwing in her lot with Allen, she would be severing forever her strange relationship with Saber, she agreed. It was not a wholehearted capitulation, but determinedly she pushed her doubts aside. She would help Allen and do her part to end the hostilities between America and England.

  Her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil, she said reluctantly, "Yes, I will help you. What do you want me to do?"

  Allen stared at her very hard, aware that her heart was not fully committed, but then he shrugged—he needed Nick's help and knew she would prove a willing tool when the final moments came. Quietly he said, "It will do us no good to act now—even if we could. We have no way of escape, and once the books were missed, Saber would know damn well that they had been stolen by someone on board this ship. We'll just wait until we reach Barataria. All you can do in the meantime is keep an eye on Saber and let me know the instant he removes them from that safe."

  They parted shortly after that, Nicole going silently to her little cupboard and Allen remaining leaning on the railing, staring out blankly over the shifting sea. He wanted those code books so badly it was all he could do to control the impulse to steal them right now, tonight, whatever the risks. His only consolation was the fact that the books did Saber little good. Unfortunately in no time they would be in the hands of the American authorities. If only he had been the one to discover the frantic young officer, a Lieutenant Jennings-Smythe, attempting to destroy that damning information. Now instead of reposing safely on the bottom of the sea, where they belonged, he thought viciously, they rested snugly in Saber's safe. Those books must not fall into the hands of the Americans, Allen decided fiercely. They must not!

  CHAPTER 8

  Though Saber created no more disturbing scenes, Nicole was in constant conflict with her conscience in connection with him. She dreamed of those wretched code books disappearing into thin air, thereby relieving her of the necessity of aligning herself against Saber. Alone in Saber's quarters she spent hours staring at the massive safe, trying to will it to vanish. But it did not and she knew she was committed to stealing those little black books.

  The return to Barataria Bay was accomplished easily. It was with a sense of homecoming that Nicole saw the outlines of the islands, Grand Terre and Grand Isle, heave into sight.

  For five years Grand Terre, the main headquarters of Jean Lafitte, the notorious and aristocratic smuggler, had been like a second home to her, the first being La Belle Garce. It was here on Grand Terre, lying to the east of Grand Isle, that Lafitte had erected enormous warehouses to hold the plunder taken by the many ships that filled the bay. Here he had built a large and frequently well-stocked slave barracoon, bordellos, gambling houses, and cafes for the entertainment of the pirates. Lafitte was king of the smugglers, and he wandered brazenly through New Orleans, a tall, handsome man, rubbing shoulders with the wealthy and highborn, as if daring anyone to question his right to be there.

  Few did, for smuggling was almost a respectable pastime in lower Louisiana, and there was more than one aristocratic family that owed its good fortune to smuggling—much to the consternation and confusion of the Americans. The Creoles saw little wrong with it, and when the American businessmen and officials attempted to point out that it was unlawful, they were met with blank stares and shocked tones. "Surely, Monsieur is wrong, my grandfather was a great smuggler! It is just a way of life, n'est-ce pas?"

  It was a way of life, and the many bayous below New

  Orleans made an ideal setting for the smugglers. The swampy area was like a catacomb, with hidden places for storing goods before transporting them secretly over the watery bayou roadways to the warehouses in the city.

  There were many small smuggling operations carried on, but Lafitte's group, situated on Grand Terre, was by far the largest, numbering over a thousand men. Barataria Bay was filled with ships of all sizes; feluccas, red-sailed luggers, and schooners; some captured vessels being refitted; some pirate ships and a few privateers; and there, arrogantly, with her three prizes following her, La Belle Garce.

  As always with the return of a ship, there was a great deal of activity both aboard ship as well as onshore. Ordinarily Nicole loved this period of intense excitement, but this trip had been different in many unpleasant ways, and she was tense and edgy, knowing that soon she and Allen would be out in the open. Once those code books were in their hands, there was no going back. No more would she sail on La Belle Garce, the Captain's secretary-cabin boy, and never again would she sleep in her little cubbyhole, hiding her identity beneath a boyish exterior. It was the finish of an adventure that had started the moment she'd been pulled behind Saber all those years before, and truthfully she couldn't tell whether she was happy or sad.

  She and Allen had settled upon a simple plan. Knowing the majority of the crew would be ashore and that the Captain would remain on board until after the first exodus, they planned to overpower him in his quarters on the nearly deserted ship. After gagging and binding him, it would be easy to remove the key that hung around his neck, open the safe, remove the books, and row themselves to shore. They would leave him tied in his bunk, to be discovered at some later hour. No one would think anything about their arriving together; young Nick usually tagged after Ballard. Nor would anyone think it strange that they carried a small trunk with them or that they set off immediately in the direction of New Orleans. Many of the crew were already making plans for the orgy of drink and women they would find in that wide-open city. Only Nicole and Allen would know that their ultimate destination was not to be New Orleans.

  The tiny flaw in the plan was that Saber might leave with the code books earlier than anticipated. It was essential that the ship be nearly deserted; it would be disastrous if a crewman should blunder into the Captain's quarters with some last-minute request! Allen would remain outside but nearby, and it would be
up to Nicole to see that Saber stayed inside the cabin until after the crew had dispersed. For this purpose Allen had slipped Nicole a small ivory-handled pistol, cautioning her to use it only if Saber attempted to leave. They hoped he would not make that attempt until Allen was ready for him.

  Nicole was as jittery as a high-strung filly before her first race. The small pistol, concealed about her waist, felt as if it were a cannon, and everytime Saber spoke, she knew he had discovered the plot. She forced herself to remain cool and aloof and pretended to be straightening her table, as she resolutely ignored Saber's upsetting nearness.

  Higgins came in for a brief conversation, during which Saber ordered Nicole to run an errand to the storeroom. She almost balked, but with Higgins standing right next to him, she could only obey. She hurried as fast as she could, fearful that Saber would leave before she returned; she raced back with the information he wanted and entered the room slightly breathless. Saber was alone and gave a disinterested grunt at her information, paying her no further attention.

  He seemed in no hurry to leave. For that she was thankful. Not that she doubted her ability to hold him. She knew that few men will argue with a pistol, but she would have felt more confident if Allen had been at her side! She was, if the truth be known, just a bit torn. Deep down she knew she owed Saber a certain amount of loyalty, yet she simply could not allow him to turn those wretched code books over to the Americans. Unconsciously she frowned at the unhappy thoughts.

  "Worried about something, Nick?" Saber asked softly, and Nicole started at his words.