A Pirate's Conquest

by Vivienne Cox

  “Captain Alexander Cruise, please.” Alexander smiled, sweetly.

  “Oh, aye.” The man stroked his nose again. “Captain Ja –”

  “I know who ‘e be, damn ye. Alexander, welcome.”

  “Connor. Nice house.”

  “As houses go.” O’Connell slouched deeper into his chair and sniffed. “So, you finally heard.”

  Alexander walked towards the great chair. He took in the room, which must once have been elegant. All around the walls were couches, many with their stuffing straggling from great rips in their upholstery. Empty bottles were scattered about, and the remains of a pig’s carcass lay rotting by the grate. A woman’s dress was tossed into a corner, and the pale fabric was darkly stained with blood. As was the inlaid wooden floor.

  “That you’ve something I might be interested in? Aye.”

  He stepped over the stains and eyed the other man as he drank deep from a rum bottle. He hadn’t changed much in the few years since they’d last met, except perhaps to have grown uglier. Though as he’d hardly been a beauty to begin with, it made little difference. With his huge body decked in a fine velvet coat, with lace at his collar and cuffs, the man clearly fancied himself a dandy – though he’d do just as well dressing up the pig. Silk purse, sow’s ear. Alexander nodded to himself. But the shaved and tattooed head was quite something, and the ink work was really very fine. Not that he wanted to have his own scalp patterned so, but, it was a piece of art in itself.

  “Good tattoos.”

  “Aye.” O’Connell stroked a hand over his head. “Ascension Island.”

  “Nimble Needle Patterson?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thought so.” My, the rum smelt so good. Fingers tickling the edges of his coat, Alexander stepped closer, swallowing on a parched and arid mouth. “Good rum?”

  “Shite rum, but better than none.”

  “Imagine that.”

  A wide grin showed blackened and broken teeth. Alexander winced. One hand reached down at the side of his chair and, bringing up another bottle, tossed it to Alexander. “Try it, tell me it’s not shite.”

  Catching the bottle one-handed, Cruise opened it and took a refreshing swig. It was indeed shite, but it was rum, and it warmed him, gave him courage and generally made the world a better place. Even standing in a ruined house with an evil bastard like Black Connor O’Connell. “Rum’s always good, Connor, ye knows that, thanks.”

  O’Connell frowned, suddenly changing tack. “You trust your men, Cruise?”

  Alexander waved his hand in a gesture he hoped denoted confidence. “Like brothers we are, Connor. Brothers who live by The Code. Brothers-in-arms, though AnaMaria is in truth more a sister. Though maybe she’d rather be a brother. She don’t like to be mollycoddled, or thought too girly. Nice body, mind. Though she’d kill any man who told her so.” Alexander paused, gave himself a little shake and then nodded sagely. “Aye, like brothers.”

  “Brothers.” O’Connell’s head sank towards the filthy lace that ruffled thickly from his shirt and he sighed theatrically. “And mine is gone, gone forever. As is the bastard who murdered him!”

  Alexander started, eyes widening. “What, I missed the auction? Damn it man, you could’ve waited!”

  “I did wait. An’ I’ll get the bastard back, mark my words. My men are out searching and it won’t take them long.”

  What in all of creation? Alexander felt as if he was swimming in a current-torn sea, unsure of which was East and which was West. “Connor, talk to me. What’s happened, did you sell him or what?”

  “Fucking bastard escaped.” Suddenly he was on his feet and shouting. “And I’ll kill the slimy fucker who let him go!” He stood there, glowering at the room that was empty of anyone but himself and Alexander. “You miserable lot hear me?”

  The bellow echoed around the high-ceilinged room, but there was no answer. Alexander got the feeling that those of Black O’Connell’s crew not out hunting for errant naval officers were all hiding, quiet as little mice behind the panelling, peering through the cracks and staying well away.

  He wasn’t that glad to be here himself. Especially as his quarry appeared to have escaped. Bloody good for him, too. If he could stay escaped and not end up back here, where his chances seemed to have plummeted from dire to hopeless. A thought suddenly seized him. What if this escapee wasn’t Thomas?

  “Connor, just ‘cos I’m not very bright.” He waved a hand deprecatingly. “We are talking about the same item here? One Admiral, recently expired to all his nearest and dearest, but actually held by you as a dainty little morsel of revenge until he managed to slip away?” O’Connell growled an objection. “Beg pardon, recently your prisoner, and soon to be again?”

  O’Connell nodded, the patterns on his scalp shifting as he ground his teeth. “Aye, Christ alone knows where he thought he was heading.”

  “Not far to go in Santo Domingo, is there?”

  “There’s nowhere. The town is mine. I give him a few hours at most.” O’Connell finished his drink in one long gulp, stood for a moment and belched loudly before wiping his sleeve across his beard.

  “’An’ I don’t suppose he was in what you might call peak condition?” Alexander glanced doubtfully at the stains by his feet.

  “He was fit enough to run. I knew I was being too kind to ‘im.”

  “Kind?”

  The big pirate appeared almost embarrassed. “You know how it is – I got a tickle at a big catch. A merchantman out of Bristol, headed for Virginia laden with gold and silks. I sailed after it and left ‘im ‘ere. Only got back a few days ago, hardly had time to start planning his lack of a future when I get a nasty surprise and find my little treat has flown the fuckin’ coop. Knew I shoud’ve taken ‘im with me, but I didn’t. I left him here and look what happened! Pasty!”

  The shout made Alexander flinch, but a door opened and the man with the nose appeared, visibly trembling. “Cap’n?”

  “Blast ye, this crate’s empty. Bring more rum. And make sure there’s enough for two!”

  A bob of the shaggy grey head and Pasty was gone.

  “Most kind of you, Connor. So, what happened to your merchantman?”

  “It was damned well empty. I had to settle for selling the crew to some Corsairs.” He sighed self-pityingly. “I need cheering up. Alexander, sit yerself down and tell me the news from Port Wiley.”

  Boots soft on the pale wood floor, Alexander walked to a couch and sat himself down in a swirl of hair, coat-tails and beads. Crossing his legs, his foot tapping out the rhythm of an unheard song, he shrugged. “Same as ever, mate. Rum, wenching and plenty o’ pilfering.”

  “Your crew there now?”

  Alexander ignored the none-too-idle question. “So he’s just flown then? Not long gone?”

  “And the Siren ?”

  Sighing, Alexander gave in. He fluttered his hands by way of explanation. “Off on a little cruise.”

  “Without you?” O’Connell was smiling in a very unpleasant way. “Alexander, for sure they’ve abandoned you.”

  “No.”

  O’Connell grinned. “So, where are they?”

  “Around and about.” He looked about, then stage-whispered: “Can’t be too careful you know, there’s pirates in these waters…”

  After a hesitation that lasted longer than made Alexander comfortable, O’Connell laughed. He was still laughing when Pasty returned with the rum.

  Alexander winked at him and took a bottle gleefully. The cork was out and he’d drunk deep even before the man was gone and the door closed. “Ah, that’s good.”

  “Aye.” O’Connell belched again. “So, stay if you want. There’s room enough.”

  “Thanks, mate, but all the same, I’ve a nice little berth in town – know what I mean?” He leered successfully and grinned when O’Connell lifted his bottle in a toast.

  “And, if it’s all right with you, I’ll be off there now.” He stood up. “Pretty little thing, doesn’t lik
e to be kept waiting.”

  “Come back in the morning, he’ll be here.”

  “And I still get to buy ‘im? Connor, I have my own, um, little disagreement with the Admiral. I’d hate to go away empty handed.”

  “What are ye going to pay me for ‘him, Alexander?”

  “Jewels.”

  “Ah, we heard you did well.” Green envy flashed from his bloodshot eyes.

  Alexander simply attempted to look modest. And poor. “Well enough – but you know how tales grow in the telling. I even heard tell that I’m meant to have a mountain of gold hid away somewheres!”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, mate, if I had that, do you think I’d still be around? I’d have me own little island, a fleet of pirate boats and every woman in the whole damn Caribbees.”

  “Guess you would. Shame.”

  “Tell me about it! But, I do have enough to buy Thomas from you. I think plunder used to get revenge is plunder well spent, don’t ye?”

  “Aye. I do. How much?”

  “A half pound of uncut emeralds, with a few diamonds thrown in for good measure?”

  “Good quality?”

  “Only the best, Connor, please…”

  “In the morning, then.”

  Alexander raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly, letting his gold teeth gleam. “All things considered, are you sure you’ll have him by then? I mean, really, how likely is it?”

  “A certainty.” O’Connell grinned, the sight as fearsome as any Alexander had seen in many a long day. “Either that or I’ll start shooting my own men.”

  “Nice incentive, mate.”

  “My thinking exactly.”

  Hardly flinching, Alexander knew his welcome had been outstayed. He bowed, making his beads dance, and bade his host a congenial farewell and stepped lightly out of the pirate’s lair as if he hadn’t a care in all the whole glorious world.

  A falsehood that lasted to about half way down the long, winding road back into town. The rum itself sustained him through a small herd of goats, conversation with one slave, two goatherds and the strange vision of dog and a cat fornicating on a doorstep. That sight alone made him drain the bottle. Dourly, he tossed the empty into an acanthus bush and considered the problem of where a nice English naval officer would most likely be found.

  Stopping dead in the middle of the track, he frowned hard and pondered: If I were an officer in His Majesty’s Navy, where would I hide?

  Thomas would receive no help from the townsfolk, that was for certain. And despite the dubious respite of O’Connell’s hunt for the merchantman, it was unlikely that he was going to be feeling sprightly or adventurous. Alexander tapped a finger against his teeth.

  If I was a Admiral, he wondered, (which he wasn’t, but the Admiral was. Alexander frowned and batted away a small but irritating fly) in Santo Domingo – which the said Admiral had most likely never set foot on before – where would I be?

  On a rise just above the lower levels of the town he stopped again, to survey the view. Church (abandoned, surely), taverns (heaving), brothels (Jenny in that one. Carmen in that. He flinched.), houses of the rich, houses of the poor, shops, stables, warehouses, inns, alleys and beyond, the gloriousness of the sea and the sun setting over it all. And out there, somewhere hidden, was his quarry. The cat turned mouse, so the cat can save the day. Alexander grinned suddenly, the scenario appealing in more ways than one. So, where? Somewhere not too far – nor too difficult to find, but not too obvious. Somewhere close to the water maybe?

  Water and the possibility of a ship out to sea. Alexander smiled, and as the shadows lengthened and deepened, he wandered on, careful to appear guileless as a dandelion clock, for all his actual purposefulness.

  Chapter 6

  Two warehouses, one stable and a boatshed later, Alexander Cruise was cursing the ingeniousness of escaping British officers and wondering if the man had found someone to give him passage off the island.

  Darkness had fallen, and the narrow streets were lit only intermittently by the lamps of businesses plying their trades. Up and down, Alexander walked. Wearing out his boot-leather and pining more for rum as he went, he purchased a flambeau from a linkboy and headed into the mass of houses just behind the quay. He wandered through the mass of alleys, traipsing through the squalor, distaste making him pick his way through the muck that layered the cobbles. Finally the dark buildings opened into a wide square, and there in the centre was a church. The door was broken off and the Spanish-style arch above it was crumbling. It looked less than likely, but he was running out of options. Shrugging, Alexander took the steps two at a time and stepped over the rubble that half-blocked the doorway.

  Inside it was dark, and smelt equally of ancient incense, mildew and dirt. The interior had been stripped out of anything remotely valuable. The walls were hacked in places where precious marble had been removed, and empty niches spoke of statues gone or destroyed. He walked up the nave and headed for where the altar would have been, had it not been hacked into pieces. Threading the torch in a sconce set into a pillar, he looked up at the high windows that showed the paler darkness of the sky beyond through a hundred shattered panes. And stopped, quite still.

  Breath held tight in his lungs, he turned, shadows and light twisting together as a breeze caught the torch’s flame.

  A noise. Something had shifted. Close by. He turned in a circle, peering into shadows.

  Another sound.

  “Who’s there? Show yourself!” It could be rats, or a cat out hunting. But Alexander knew sounds in darkness, and this was no animal or vermin. Unless the vermin was human. His knife was in his hand, and he turned, wary. “I’m no easy mark, I’ll warn ye!”

  His voice echoed around the high, domed roof, and a bat flittered into the night.

  Perhaps he was imagining things…

  He listened again. And this time the sound was closer. Alexander turned fast, and caught sight of a sudden difference in the shadows. “There you be. Show yerself!”

  As Alexander watched, the darkness coalesced into a shape, and the shape into the tall, shadowy figure of a man. A voice, dry and laden with irony accompanied him. “As I live and breathe, Captain Alexander Cruise…”

  Alexander blinked hard. “Thomas?”

  “Admiral, if you please.”

  The figure slowly came closer, until he was close enough for Alexander to see him properly, to take in the ragged breeches, bare feet and torn shirt. “I was looking for you.”

  “Really? O’Connell offering a reward is he?”

  “Probably, but I’m not here for that. I’m ‘ere to help you get out of it.” Thomas didn’t exactly look convinced. Alexander sighed.

  “Look, Lawrence and Elmira were worried. So I said I’d have a looksee.” A few steps nearer and he could see the Admiral’s face. He winced in sympathy. “But you got yourself free, so that’s all right then.”

  “I did.” He coughed, one hand tight to his side. “Well, Cruise, now you’ve found me, what are you going to do with me?”

  “Rescue you.” Damn, but the man could ask some foolish questions.

  There was a moment’s silence, then Admiral James Thomas laughed, the sound soft but unmistakable. Alexander was almost grinning too, though as he watched the amusement fled slowly from the pale, bruised face.

  “And would this rescue involve taking me back to O’Connell, by any chance?”

  “Ah, you think I’m teasing you. Well, I’m not. Odd as it may seem I’m here to save your hide and I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

  “I must be more unwell than I thought, because I actually think I do believe you.” He sounded astounded. “And much as I’d like to be able to refuse your kind offer of rescue, I think, in fact, that it would be most agreeable. Thank you.” And with that, before anything else could be said, he slowly folded like a puppet with its strings cut and hit the floor hard, gasping as his knees cracked onto broken marble, one outstretched han
d just keeping him from sprawling full length.

  Alexander was at his side, crouching there. “Admiral?”

  “Ah, God. Still here? So I’m not dreaming.”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so.” Alexander poked himself.

  Another of those dry, weary laughs. “Captain, believe me, if you really are here to help me, I am more than pleased.” Thomas looked up at him uncertainly. “But are you?”

  “It’s no trick, Admiral. Come, let’s get you on your feet. Where’re you hiding?” “In the tower.”

  “Up you get.” And Alexander slipped one hand under Thomas’s arm and stood, bringing them both upright. He felt the shudder that rippled through the other man. “O’Connell was a teensy bit unkind, I’m guessing.”

  “Your guess is, I believe, quite right.” Thomas stood still, his breath catching in his lungs and his eyes half closed.

  “Can you walk?”

  The eyes opened fully. “Mister Cruise, I can run if I have to. I just hope…” He shivered again. “… not to have to.”

  “We’ll try and do this with no running then. Maybe just a little canter, or a trot. Though as you’re not a horse, maybe a jog?”

  Another soft sound of amusement. “I appear to have missed you, Mister Cruise. I am at a loss to understand why.”

  Alexander put an arm around him, this close his eyes appeared the green of deepest water, their clarity dulled but not broken. Alexander hoisted him more securely. “We’ll work it out, Admiral. I’m sure we will. Now where’s this tower of yours?”

  “A door, just in the corner.”

  It was a longish walk through a side chapel. That Thomas had made it across the wide expanse of floor, over the broken stones and smashed wood - all without alerting him - amazed Alexander. The return journey was awkward and clumsy. Thomas was the taller man, and he leant hard on Alexander as they negotiated the hazards. The door creaked as Alexander pushed it open. Inside, a narrow stair curled upward into darkness. Side by side, they took the steps one at a time. It was a hot, painful business, but after a fashion they managed, until there was nothing but a door that swung open under Alexander’s touch.