“You know I would, Aunt Merle. But right now, the real need is for more drinking water.”
“Yes, I know.” Merle’s voice was edged with concern. She inclined her head toward Lucas’ group. “I believe that’s probably what that meeting is about.”
Lucas soon confirmed her statement. He approached them and gave a slight bow.
“Ladies, as I am sure you’ve noticed, our fresh water situation is getting critical. Thorpe and I are starting a journey across the island to search for a better source. We may be gone a couple of days.”
Travay frowned and shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked up into his face. “What? You can’t leave us here with …” She threw her hand toward the three pirates who were horseplaying on the beach.
“Actually, I am taking the smaller one, Damon, with me and Thorpe. He will help us bring the water skins. Do you doubt Sinbad’s ability to protect you from the other two?”
Travay looked at the large African stooped beside the morning coals, raking them into a pile. She breathed a little easier—the man struck fear in all three of the crew.
Lucas turned his glance from Travay to her aunt. “Let’s all pray we find fresh water soon.”
Merle laid her hand on his arm. “Lucas, that will be my daily prayer—and for your safety and ours.”
Travay watched Lucas, Thorpe, and Damon pick up their packs and head into the interior of the island. Her throat constricted, and she swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. Whatever was wrong with her? Why should she feel desolate as the three disappeared into the bush?
The second night after they left, sleep evaded Travay in the frond lean-to. Why hadn’t Lucas and his group returned? She arose, donned her dress, and moved to the entrance. She almost stumbled over Sinbad who lay blocking the door. He rose up and moved from her path, the whites of his dark eyes shining in the night. She took a deep breath. “Nothing is wrong. I just can’t sleep. I thought I’d walk on the beach, just a little way.”
He nodded. She walked, and he followed five paces behind her, glancing back often at the lean-to. Soon the magic of the island sounds—the waves lapping at the white sand, the soft cooing of birds in the inland trees—did their work. Travay went back to their little palm frond home and immediately fell asleep.
Just before dawn, she awoke with a start. She turned toward her aunt’s pallet. Merle sat there, equally alert.
Sounds of battle ensued from the beach. Both Travay and her aunt bolted upright. Slipping into clothing as fast as possible, they crawled out into the dawn and stared down the beach.
Sinbad fought a mortal conflict with about ten pirates just beyond the camp. There were two still forms lying grotesquely on the beach—the other two pirates Lucas had left.
As they watched, Sinbad slashed deadly blows to three of the attackers, but more came from the bushes.
Travay put her hand over her mouth to stop a scream that rushed up from her throat. Merle clapped a hand over her own mouth, then grabbed Travay’s arm.
“Hurry. We must run into the jungle before they see us.” Merle’s low voice was laced with horror.
The two of them ran toward the shadowy trees and pushed through vines and bushes until they were completely out of breath and their skirts were in tatters. They stopped a moment in a small clearing to look behind them. Travay’s breath came out in ragged spurts. Blood oozed from scratches on her face and arms. Merle had her own wounds and could scarcely stand.
“Dear ladies, don’t trouble yourselves. I will protect you.”
They both whirled around. A blond pirate with a white silk shirt and red sash stuffed with a cutlass, sword and pistol smiled at them. A long scar ridged one side of his face.
Travay’s breath strangled in her throat.
The man whipped off his hat and bowed. “Captain Byron Pitt at your service.”
CHAPTER 18
Travay grabbed Merle’s hand, and they both turned and ran. Their blindly retreating steps, harried by their gowns catching on every bush and limb, eventually brought them out onto a different section of beach.
To an encampment of pirates.
Merle stumbled but recovered her footing.
Travay stopped dead in her tracks and struggled for breath. A swarm of laughing pirates passed around a jug on the beach. A tall ship bobbed in the waters beyond the cove.
Pitt sauntered out of the trees behind them. “Welcome to our little camp, ladies. My men have just finished careening our ship, and they are ready for a party. Please join us.”
A group of pirates burst from the trees below them, dragging Sinbad, bound from neck to foot, toward a stake at the water’s edge.
Iron bands clamped around Travay’s heart. She turned to Byron Pitt. “What are they going to do to Sinbad?”
“From the looks of it, he gave my men quite a fight. Seems they have something special planned for him.”
Nausea rose in Travay’s throat as the men tied Sinbad to the stake. Blood flowed from cuts on his legs and arms. Something jogged her memory. Her voice raised three notches. “What are they going to do?” Merle touched her arm.
“I doubt if you ladies would be interested in knowing. I invite you to take residence on my ship. We will be loading into the longboats shortly.” He leaned in as if to whisper a secret. “In fact, I know if I don’t get these men on board before they get much more rum in them, I will have a problem getting them aboard at all.” He winked.
Travay stood stiff as a board. She planted her feet firmly in the sand and tossed her unbound curls behind her back. “I will not board your ship. And I demand you tell me what they are doing to Sinbad.”
Captain Pitt’s lip curled, and all hint of a gentleman’s tone left him. He threw out his chest and glared at Travay. “They are tide staking the African, if you must know, and you will board my ship, or be trussed up as he is and carried aboard like a slave.
Tide staking. Now she remembered the sentence of some unlucky pirates in Jamaica. Once she and her mother had driven nearby and heard the screams of men being eaten alive by crabs who came in with the surge.
“No,” she choked and broke into a cold sweat. “No.” She staggered back and sobbed. Not Sinbad, Lucas’ faithful friend who had protected them with his life.
Merle kept her from collapsing onto the sand. “Travay, what is tide staking? Why are you so upset?”
Travay only shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
Pitt cursed. He leaned over and pulled Travay’s head up by clutching a handful of her curls. “What is this? What’s that African to you, girl?”
His breath in her face made Travay’s stomach roil. “He’s been our protector. He’s one of Captain Bloodstone’s most trusted men,” she spat at Byron.
“So that’s it, is it? Yes, I remember the man now. This is good.” He released Travay, and she dropped onto the beach in a heap. “He’ll come back to find his African half eaten by crabs and the love of his life gone on my ship. We’ll sail with tomorrow’s dawn. After my crew loads up with fresh fruit and celebrates tonight.” The pirate turned to Merle, who glared daggers at him.
“You see this?” He pointed to the long red scar across his cheek. “Bloodstone did this, and I swore I’d get revenge. This is my long-awaited day.” He whipped off his hat and bellowed the most awful roar Travay had ever heard. Then he leaned down and scooped her into his arms like she was a featherweight and headed toward a longboat on the beach.
Walking back from the other side of the island, Lucas heard the strange sound as it echoed off the rocks behind them. He turned to Thorpe. “Did you hear that?”
“Sounded kind of like a mad bull, but we haven’t encountered any kind of cattle on the island.” Thorpe looked at the young helmsman who hadn’t said two words the whole trip.
Damon cocked his head. “Onliest thing I ever heard close to it was a pirate we run into. I swear, when he got into the rum or got mad, he could let a holler rip that would curl your spine.”
When they reached the campsite, all three gasped for breath.
Lucas surveyed the bodies littering the beach. “My God.” His two crewmen lay among five other strangers. He ran to the palm frond lean-to.
Empty. He swore, then regretted it. He should be praying instead.
Thorpe looked into Lucas’ ashen face. “Sinbad’s not here. Reckon he and the ladies escaped?”
Lucas wanted to believe it. But his gut told him something different. He wiped sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “We must hurry and search before night falls.”
They found two paths of escape through the jungle growth. Lucas recognized the yellow snips of Travay’s dress on the bushes of one, and he went in that direction. Dear God, save her. The prayer reverberated through his heart with every footfall.
Thorpe and Damon took the path where it looked like something—or someone—had been dragged by several men.
All three of them burst out into the clearing, now empty but for a man on a stake at the water’s edge. Thorpe and Damon reached Sinbad first. They kicked huge crabs right and left only a few yards from Sinbad’s bare feet, and then cut the sweating man free.
Lucas saw a tall ship still anchored at the mouth of the cove. He breathed a prayer. Thank God. Maybe there was still a chance of saving Travay and Merle.
Sinbad rubbed salt water into his rope burns and wounds. “It’s Pitt, Cap’n. The scar face.”
“Yes, I guessed it from that bellow I recognized.” Lucas looked closer at his friend, remembering how near the crabs were when they rescued him. “Are you all right, Sinbad?”
“Yes. I knowed yo God, our Jesus Christ, would save me. I were not afraid.”
Lucas smiled. “Just in time, huh?”
They all four rested on the sand, out of sight of the ship. As the hot sun sank into the horizon, Lucas looked into each of the three faces before him. “There’s only one thing to do. Board the ship after dark and do whatever we have to do to rescue the women. We’ll have to take the vessel.” He hesitated. They would be greatly outnumbered. “Are you with me?”
“We can do it, Cap’n. They’s all full of the kill-devil.” Sinbad wiped sweat from beneath his thick black forelock.
Lucas looked at him. He was the one crew member Lucas ever had who showed no liking for rum.
“If the crew are sleeping off their rum, we do have a chance. But there’s still a lot of risk. Four against an entire crew.” He examined each man’s face. They could all end up chained in the ship’s hold, under the control of Byron Pitt. And the women? Lucas forced that thought away.
“What other choice do we have on this deserted island?” Thorpe spoke up, sifting white sand between his fingers. He looked at Lucas. “And the women. Who could leave them at Byron Pitt’s mercy?”
Damon cleared his throat. “I heered about a small band of pirates who boarded a ship of rum-blasted sailors and put chains on their feet ’fore they knowed what happened. When they woke up, they give ’em the choice of join’ wi’ the new captain or stay in chains.”
Sinbad and Thorpe turned to stare at the younger man.
Lucas grinned. “That just might be what we need to do, Damon. If you are all in agreement, we can start our planning.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “But first, would you men join with me as we ask God’s wisdom and protection tonight?”
“Yes, sir.” Thorpe and Sinbad spoke together.
Damon’s eyes grew bright. “I sure will, Captain. I’ll never forget your prayers during the storm. Made me think of my grandma back in Wales.”
Lucas found the courage to lift his gaze toward the three men. Words of Ethan Wentworth flowed into his spirit, and he spoke them. “‘No matter what may befall me this night, I know that come the day I leave this earth, I will enter my eternal home in the heaven of heavens. That glorious door has been opened for me, a sinful man as any I’ve known, by Jesus Christ—who died for me, that I might live with Him forever.’”
All three men murmured, “Aye.”
Then Lucas got on his knees in the sand and lifted his hands toward heaven. He was surprised to hear the clank of the other men’s swords as they knelt also. He prayed words he scarcely heard. But a presence enveloped him and the men with him. He knew God was with them on their island somewhere in the Caribbean.
Aboard the Revenge, Travay lay on the bunk in the cabin where Pitt had locked her and Merle with instructions to dress for dinner at the captain’s table. He had pulled two fancy dresses from a trunk in the corner and thrown them over the table before he left. In the next hour, a pirate brought two buckets of water.
Merle took a deep breath. “My dear, I’m afraid I can’t resist a bath and getting out of this ragged, dirty dress.” Merle lifted a lovely blue dress and held it up for size. “This one is definitely too small for me, Travay. It’s probably just right for you. The maroon one ought to fit me.”
Travay pushed up from the cot, her tears all spent for Sinbad. “I refuse to dress for that monster.”
“Don’t do it for him, dear. Do it for yourself. Think how we’ve longed for a bath.” Merle began her toilette, and Travay soon joined her.
After they had bathed and dressed, Merle rummaged around in the trunk and found a small hairbrush and three pearl combs.
“Good,” she exclaimed. “Now I can tackle those tangles and twigs in your hair.”
Travay sighed and sat down. Her aunt went to work on the wayward locks.
Soon Travay’s gold-flecked hair trailed down her back in shining glory. Merle took two of the combs and deftly brought the sides up, leaving curls to frame Travay’s face.
“There, now let me see what I can manage with one pearl comb.” In a few minutes, Merle had her long gray-streaked hair twirled up and back and clamped firmly into a twist.
Travay tried to smile, but her face crumpled instead. “Oh, Aunt Merle, will we ever be safe again? Anywhere? I detest Byron Pitt, but there’s still Roger Poole to contend with if we should somehow manage to make it back to Charles Town. One thing is sure. I never want to get on another vessel.” She hung her head, and a tear escaped down her cheek. What chance was there Lucas could save her and her aunt this time? Or poor Sinbad? By the time Lucas returned to the camp from the search for water, Byron Pitt’s ship would be far out to sea. It was to sail on the morning tide.
Merle put her arm around her. “Listen to me, Travay Allston, and listen well. Wipe those tears away. We will survive this, but we must use our wits. You know this Captain Pitt, or at least you’ve met him before. What can you tell me about him? At first, he sounded like a gentleman.”
Travay wiped her wet face with her hand. “He told me once he was the third son of a nobleman and with no inheritance, he had to make his own way. But he is definitely no gentleman, believe me. You see the scar on his face? Lucas gave it to him after he attacked me on the way back from Jamaica.”
“So that’s what happened.” Merle looked thoughtful. “Let’s play the part of ladies and appeal to his gentlemanly background—if he told you the truth and he was once a gentleman. And let’s pray the Lord will give us favor and protection.” Once again, Travay knelt beside her aunt, hoping God heard them.
They had no more than stood from their prayer when they heard the door being unbolted from the outside. Byron Pitt entered wearing a stunning black-and-silver outfit and with his blond hair pulled into a queue. A shining sword jingled at his side. He stared at Travay, surprise on his face, which quickly ignited into lust. Merle moved toward him and held out her hand like she would have done in a Charles Town drawing room. He came to her side with his right arm extended. But he ogled Travay and extended his other arm to her. Travay swallowed her disgust and finally laid her hand on his arm.
At the door, he dropped Merle’s hand but held firmly to Travay’s in the na
rrow passage. Travay’s satin skirts rustled against the tight walls as he led them to dinner at his table.
Travay stared wordlessly at the well-set table and cloth. But why not? Byron was a pirate who had undoubtedly stolen all the lovely plate and silver from a Spanish galleon.
He seated Travay at his right and Merle at the other end of the table. A middle-aged pirate soon entered and swaggered to a place beside Merle. His dark countenance and pointed black beard suggested he might have Spanish blood. A sword and two muskets clanged on his person when he sat. The smell of rum hung over him like a blanket.
Byron stood and bowed to the ladies. “You will have to excuse my other officers for their absence. Tonight is the crew’s celebration of the hard work they’ve done the past three days restoring the Revenge to tip-top sailing condition.” He tapped on his goblet with a spoon and a servant entered with bottles of red and white wine and a tray of food. Travay covered her goblet with her hand when he came to pour hers. But Merle nodded and held her goblet for the white wine. The servant poured all around, then placed the bottles on the table with the fare and left.
“I see your aunt has fine taste, Travay. Why don’t you try the white wine too?”
“No, thank you, Byron.” Travay tried to keep the scorn from her tone, but some must have slipped through. His lips puckered with annoyance. Out of the corner of her eye, Travay saw Merle give a small shake of her head. Then her aunt turned to the pirate next to her. “I am Merle Allston of Charles Town. May I ask your name?”
Red crept up the man’s thick neck.
Byron guffawed at the other end of the table. “Sorry, Cortez is not used to polite dinner conversation. But he does have other talents, I can assure you.”
Merle would not give up. “Cortez is your name? May I ask where you are from?”
“Vera Cruz, ma’am.” The man emptied his wine glass and filled it again.
Pitt proceeded to eat heartily. He washed each bite of chicken and brown bread down with wine. He stopped when he noticed Travay had not taken a bite.
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