In a Pirate's Debt

by Elva Cobb Martin

  The room spun under Travay. She fell from her chair to the floor in a faint.

  “Travay!” Merle jumped up and knelt beside her.

  “I’ll get some smelling salts.” Sir John rang the bell pull, and a servant appeared. He soon returned with the needed bottle. The solicitor waved it under Travay’s nose.

  She sat up. “I—I don’t know what happened.” She looked from her aunt to the solicitor. What must they think of her? But Sir John’s words echoed in her heart.

  The Blue Heron sunk? Lucas dead? Tears gathered in her eyes, and she averted her face. Sir John gave her his hand to help her rise. She took it gratefully.

  Her aunt spoke. “Well, I am sorry to hear this about John Sutherland, if it is true. He seemed like a nice young man.”

  As soon as Travay and her aunt each drank a cup of tea, they left for home.

  The ride back had been one of heavy silence. As the carriage bore them home, Travay tried to silence the terrible words echoing in her mind. Lucas attacked an English ship. Lucas is dead. Lucas is dead. She couldn’t comprehend it.

  Aunt Merle held firmly to Travay’s arm as they walked into the house. Travay knew her aunt was mulling over the whole fainting episode, probably with questions on the edge of her tongue. If Travay could only get to her room before they started.

  Merle stopped her at the foot of the stairs. “Have you told me everything about this Captain Bloodstone, alias John Sutherland?”

  Travay turned to look in her aunt’s kind face. Her resolve crumpled, and she fell into Merle’s arms, sobbing. “Oh, Aunt, I can’t believe he would attack an English ship. And he was—he was my friend. His real name is Lucas Barrett. He was my one real defense against Sir Roger.”

  “Really?” Aunt Merle’s tone suggested she was reading a lot more into the answer than Travay intended. She handed Travay a handkerchief. “Well, well.” She patted her niece’s shoulder. “We’ll just have a time of prayer about all this. We still have God on our side, now don’t we?”

  Later, Travay dutifully knelt with Merle beside her bed and listened with a doubtful heart to her aunt’s fervent prayer.

  “Lord, we have heard bad news about a friend. Show us if this story is true. If it is not, show us the truth. If Captain Bloodstone, John Sutherland, and Lucas Barrett are one and the same, and he is still alive, protect him and help him escape whatever danger he is in. Help him make it back to straighten out the record.”

  Amen. Yes, Lord, if you’re listening this time. Travay climbed into bed and finally slept.

  The next day, Travay found nothing that could take her mind off the terrible story now circulating in Charles Town.

  That afternoon, Sir Roger showed up at tea time. She and her aunt had no choice but to admit him—he was their landlord, after all. He had heard the tale about Lucas.

  “Well, well. So our old friend Lucas Barrett was leading a double life, was he? Tell you the truth, I didn’t think he had such audacity in him. Captain Bloodstone, no less, as well as John Sutherland.” His voice oozed with mockery. He sipped his tea and looked at Travay over his cup. “I wondered what became of him after he ran away from our plantation. Heard later he might be sailing the high seas as a pirate. I’ve done some investigating. That’s how I found out this man is—was—Lucas Barrett. Sounds like he got what he deserved.”

  Travay set her cup and saucer down so heavily tea spilled onto the polished tabletop. She blotted it with her napkin.

  Merle stood. “Excuse me. I’ll get a cloth to wipe that up and a fresh napkin for you, Travay.”

  Sir Roger’s gloating eyes bore into Travay’s. He leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. “You will marry me, Travay. Eventually.”

  She brushed his hand away like an insect. How she hated the smooth confidence that rolled off his lips.

  Merle returned. Mama Penn came behind her carrying a thick cotton cloth. The servant swiped up the spill and huffed in Sir Roger’s direction, then left.

  “What do you think about Travay’s childhood friend?” Sir Roger addressed his question to Merle.

  Merle just looked at him, her lips in a tight line.

  “So she hasn’t told you the whole story? We three grew up together. Lucas’ parents were indentured to my father.” Sir Roger’s voice was as silky as a spider’s web.

  “And you and your father were most wicked to him and his parents.” Travay spat the words out.

  “Come now, Travay. We were as good to our servants as anyone else. But enough of this subject. Would you and your aunt care to attend the Carters’ ball with me next week?”

  “No. We would not.” Travay’s quick answer stung the air and momentarily set Roger Poole aback.

  He blotted his lips, then went on smoothly. “Well, if you change your mind, there’s a free month’s rent for you two next month.”

  Merle’s face hardened. “Sir Roger, you are no better than a low-down scoundrel.”

  He stood and prepared to leave. “Maybe so, but that’s the offer. I expect you can use the extra money?”

  Mama Penn stood dark as a thundercloud in the hall, holding Sir Roger’s hat and cane. He took them and turned back to the two women, ignoring the glowering servant.

  “And I forgot to tell you, if you don’t attend with me and be very cordial while attending”—he looked directly at Travay and licked his lips—“the next month’s rent, instead of free, will be doubled.” He left whistling.

  Travay stamped her foot. “Oh! That man!”

  Merle sighed and sank onto the sofa.

  Mama Penn came in and picked up the tea things. Her large eyes flashed when she spoke. “That’s a bad man. A bad man. And I don’t believes one bit o’ that story about Cap’n Bloodstone. He’s good man, and I don’t believes the Lord has let him die either. Hadn’t I done gone and did prayer warfare for him since the Lord told me to?” With that said, she began to hum as she shuffled out of the room.

  Travay’s heart jumped with hope but settled down like dust as she saw her aunt’s pale face contract into tight lines.

  “Travay.” Merle took a long, labored breath. “I believe Roger Poole is rotten to the core, and we must reconsider what we should do with our remaining funds. I am now convinced he will never stop until he’s forced his will on you—on us.”

  “But what else can we do, Aunt Merle?”

  “We can return to England and to the one relative I still have.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Lucas fought his way up through a dark tunnel. Gusts of fire licked at him when he pushed too hard. Something wrapped around his head tightened and pained him. He tried to move his hand to his head but couldn’t. At times, he became aware of light and the sound of birds chattering and their wings flapping. How long he’d been in this strange state, he didn’t know. Times of light and darkness passed over him in waves. Then the throbbing in his head became softer. And finally, during a time of light, a wonderful smell assailed his nose.

  Light flickered across his eyelids. He heard sounds of someone busy about a fire. Warmth touched his face. He managed to barely open his eyes. At first, he squinted at the light. Then he saw Sinbad cooking over a fire with Thorpe close by. The savory smell of fish cooking stirred his memory. He tried to make a sound.

  His two friends began to eat the fish. Finally, a groan escaped his parched lips. The two men dropped their food and rushed to his pallet.

  Sinbad stooped down and looked at him, uttering a sort of happy grunt. He gently lifted Lucas’ head and placed a split coconut to his lips. Lucas opened his mouth and received a sip of the sweet liquid. Sinbad smiled. Lucas took more sips, then opened both his gritty eyes and looked at the huge dark man.

  “You gonna make it, Captain. You gonna make it. Just keep taking them sips.” Sinbad’s gruff voice sounded wonderful to Lucas’ ears.

  Thorpe leaned down closer. “Wonderful to see you back with us, Captain. We believed you would make it.” His voice cracked.

  Lucas tried to sit u
p but fell back on the sand, groaning.

  Thorpe touched his shoulder. “Now don’t you try to get up yet, Captain. You have been down for almost a week, and you got to take it real easy. We’ve kept you alive by pouring coconut juice into your mouth.”

  A smile started on Lucas’ dry, cracked lips. “You are a hard taskmaster, my friend.” The voice hardly sounded like his own, but before his heavy lids closed, he noted the happiness on the faces of his two friends.

  The next day, Lucas was able to sit up. He gingerly touched the cloth wrapped around his head.

  “You got a mean hit from a plank of the ship before you went under the water, Cap’n.”

  Lucas looked at Sinbad as the memories came back. The battle with the Spanish ship that was attacking an English merchant. Then their own ship exploding.

  He winced as he remembered flying through the air and hitting the water like he’d hit a rock wall.

  “I don’t remember a thing after I hit the water, except feeling as if my very life were being sucked down into a dark hole.” He glanced around and saw the blue Caribbean lapping a white sandy shore. How had the two men gotten him here on what appeared to be an island?

  Thorpe sat down on the palm leaves beside him. “Sinbad dove and found you after you went down. When I fought back to the surface, I saw him pulling you toward a large piece of our deck floating just beyond us. We all three got on that decking, and the sea eventually spit us out right here on this beach. It was a miracle we survived, Lucas. Nothing less than a miracle. My mama would say somebody was praying.” Thorpe chewed on a pine twig.

  Lucas smiled. The man had undoubtedly lost his trusty pipe in the sea.

  He turned to Sinbad. “So you saved my life, my friend. I am grateful. I thank both of you.” When he looked out across the blue Caribbean, his face hardened. “We will get off this island, and I will find out who sabotaged the Blue Heron.”

  Lucas tried to stand but found he was weak as water.

  “You got to take it easy, Cap’n. Now don’t you go fretting yourself.” Sinbad stood. “We are going to take care of you till you get well.”

  Lucas grinned as best he could with chapped lips, but he did lie back on the palm leaf pallet and soon fell asleep.

  Every day his strength grew, especially with the good diet of fish, mango, bananas, and coconut, which his friends gathered for him.

  One thought never left Lucas’ mind: Who had sabotaged his ship? Even Sinbad and Thorpe agreed that the two pirates Lucas had overheard talking had acted strange most of the voyage. Lucas was determined to learn the truth, just as he knew he would learn the truth about his mother.

  A few days later, as the three of them sat eating their midday meal, Thorpe dropped his fish and stood. He pointed toward the ocean and whooped. A white sail appeared on the horizon, slowly growing larger as they watched.

  Travay agreed to sail to England once she realized Merle had made up her mind to use a large chunk of their funds to buy passage. Merle picked out a few of her heirlooms to take with them—the rest would have to stay. They packed within the week and advised the solicitor of their plan.

  When Sir Roger came next, he eyed the trunks lining the hall.

  “Well, dear ladies, where are you off to?”

  Travay ignored him.

  Merle stopped packing and faced him. “I still have one relative in England that I think might take us in, Sir Roger.”

  “Is that so? Well, well. Let’s see. What can I do to help you change your minds?”

  Travay turned to him, her lips tight. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Still smiling, he looked at her. “In that case, let me do one thing for you, ladies.” He looked around. “I will hold this house and your furniture for you.”

  Travay looked at Merle whose eyes flickered in surprise then clouded with distrust.

  “I’ll hold it for say, six months.” He took a snuffbox from his jacket and placed a pinch in each nostril. “Just in case you find you need to return to Charles Town.”

  Now Merle’s face changed from cautious to hopeful. “Would you really do that, Sir Roger?”

  Travay knew her aunt hated to leave her furniture for John Hawkins to sell—because they might have to return. But Travay also knew Sir Roger too well. What wicked plan did he have in mind?

  Travay leaned across the railing of the merchantman, heading for England. She wished the tightness in her chest would abate. Her heart still refused to admit Lucas could be dead. Every hour the small ship carried her farther away from the life she’d known in the new world and the possibility of seeing Lucas again—if he still lived.

  She missed Mama Penn, who had chosen to stay and cook for John Hawkins, who was delighted to have her. He had also given a place on his estate to the gardener and his wife. Though her heart was heavy, Travay found comfort in thinking that at least she was rid of the leering face of Sir Roger Poole. But what if her aunt’s relative refused them shelter? What would they do?

  The second day at sea, Travay stood on deck looking back at the western horizon wondering if she would ever see Charles Town or Lucas again when a cry came from the lookout.

  “A sail! A sail!”

  Merle came up and laid her hand on Travay’s shoulder. “My dear, until they decide what type of ship is coming toward us, we had better go below deck. You know these waters are full of pirates.”

  Pirates? What she would give to see the face of one particular pirate. She cast the hopeless thought behind her and followed her aunt below deck.

  The two sat in their small cabin amid all the shouts and stamping feet above them. Prayers flowed from Merle’s lips.

  A cannon blast found its mark and shook the ship so hard they both almost fell to the cabin floor. Travay screamed.

  Merle stopped praying and stifled a cry herself. “My goodness, Travay, has our ship been hit? But why have our own cannons not fired?”

  Travay heard more scurrying feet and curses from above, and the boat seemed to come to a standstill. She looked out the porthole and saw another ship fast approaching. Checking its colors, she gasped. The Jolly Roger. Had their merchant ship surrendered?

  Soon they heard the grappling hooks singing through the air and sinking with thuds into the deck above—next, a steady stream of boots and strange voices.

  A loud knock banged on their cabin door. Merle motioned for Travay to stay seated and went to open it. The merchant captain stood with his hat in his hand and a sad expression on his face. Another tall, grinning man stood just behind him—a pirate, judging by his gaudy clothing, as well as the pistol and two swords swinging from his baldric. He wore a red scarf under a yellow plumed hat. He looked at Merle and frowned, then leaned in and saw Travay. The grin returned to his swarthy face and deepened.

  Their captain held his hat in one hand and swiped sweat from his face with the other. I am so sorry, madam, but we have been waylaid by pirates. They are taking all our stores but also have demanded that you and the young lady be escorted to their ship with your trunks. If we don’t comply, they will blow us up.”

  The pirate beside him stepped forward and mimicked a bow. “Captain Bart at your service. Yes, we need both you ladies to board our ship with your trunks. Your captain was wise to surrender, rather than lose his ship and you.”

  Within the hour, Travay and Merle found themselves and their trunks aboard the pirate ship Talon. Where it was heading, they did not know. The crew treated them with respect as they boarded, and they were given a large, well-furnished cabin. They were even told they would dine at the captain’s table for their meals. How strange if they were prisoners.

  Travay sank onto the large bunk and fingered the colorful quilt covering it. “It seems like too nice a cabin for a pirate ship. And everything looks new, doesn’t it?”

  Merle sat at the table in the center of the room, her lips pressed together. “Yes, much too nice.” She glanced at Travay. “Just before we boarded, I overheard one of the crew say, ‘Did the captain
get the two ladies we were supposed to get?’ Then he saw us and clamped his mouth shut.”

  Travay’s eyes met her aunt’s. Then she stood and stormed toward the door, her skirts bouncing. “How dare Roger Poole! It has got to be his doing. I will confront this captain and get the truth.”

  Her aunt’s voice stopped her. “That may not be wise, Travay. We can’t know for sure, can we? Some of this crew might have just seen us boarding the merchantman in Charles Town and heard their captain’s plans to pursue us with the idea of holding us for ransom. Of course, he’ll be disappointed if he does.”

  Travay trudged slowly back to her bunk, shaking her head. “I hate Roger Poole. No wonder he offered to hold our house.” She gritted her teeth. “What can we do, Aunt?”

  “We’ll play our cards carefully. A lot can be learned at a captain’s table.”

  They both sat stiffly at dinner that night. The table was spread with various dishes and fruits. Captain Bart himself had even cleaned up and seemed in a jovial mood.

  “Eat up now, my dear lady guests. We would hate for you to grow pale and weak.” He laughed, and his lieutenant beside him laughed too.

  Travay spoke up. “Captain, I demand you tell us what you plan to do with us. Why did you bring just the two of us off the merchantman? Where are we headed?”

  He glanced at his second in command and then met Travay’s eyes. “Why my dear, haven’t you figured that out?” He pointed a thick, dark finger at Merle. “I am sure she has.”

  He picked up half a chicken from a platter and began to pull the meat off and push it into his mouth with his fingers. Travay turned her head in disgust.

  “There is no one anywhere who will pay ransom for us, Captain Bart.” Merle’s voice was cool.