In a Pirate's Debt

by Elva Cobb Martin

  “Eat, milady. You are going to need your strength.” He poked her with his elbow.

  At the other end of the table, Merle picked up her fork and ate a small piece of chicken, all the while looking at Travay.

  Finally, Travay lifted a nibble to her mouth. To her, it tasted like rubber, and she wanted to spit it out, but she continued to chew and finally swallowed it. But it didn’t go down well, and she began to cough.

  Byron stared at her as she grew red in the face. “Water,” he bellowed, and the servant came quickly with a goblet of water.

  Travay took it and finally got the offending food down. She didn’t attempt to eat anything else, and Captain Pitt didn’t seem to care. He had already downed a bottle of wine.

  As soon as darkness fell, Lucas and the three men entered the water and swam toward the ship. Each had a knife in his mouth and a sword tied to his waist. Lucas whispered a prayer of thanksgiving as the quarter moon sailed behind clouds. They had gone over their plan three times. The cool water washed away the sweat and grime of the past two days and refreshed Lucas and his partners.

  The name Revenge painted on the brig’s hull became decipherable. Lucas climbed the longboat ladder still hanging down the side and eased over the ship’s rail. The half-asleep pirate on guard duty opened one eye as Lucas loomed over him and put him into a deep slumber before he could utter a word. The other three men slipped aboard. Pirates lay all over the deck, snoring.

  The only sound of voices came from the captain’s quarters. Lucas stationed Sinbad among the sleepers with a club to make sure they fell back to sleep while Thorpe and Damon rounded up ropes and chains.

  Lucas tied a rope to the quarterdeck railing and lowered himself over the side. Braced against the hull, he grappled his way to the captain’s quarters on the ship’s outer ledge until he reached the row of windows to the cabin. He looked down into Byron Pitt’s lair.

  Pitt sat at the captain’s table next to Travay. Merle sat beside another large pirate with his massive arms propped on the board and a mug cupped in his thick hands like it held a precious brew. Both Pitt and his mate had obviously been imbibing, by the looks of their slouching positions.

  Lucas’ lips thinned into a tight line as he saw the scratches on Travay’s face.

  Pitt leaned over and punched the other man on the arm. “I said, Cortez, why don’t you escort Miz Merle to her cabin. Now.”

  The man lifted his bleary eyes from his tankard and looked at his captain. Pitt winked at him. Cortez staggered up and started toward Merle.

  “I’m not leaving Travay.” Merle stuck out her chin and grasped the arms of her chair.

  Pitt took another long swig from his silver challis and sniggered. “You know how to handle an overripe tigress, don’t you, old boy?”

  “Corse I do.” Cortez stopped behind Merle and lifted her still in the chair and staggered toward the door; Merle tried to kick at him. He just laughed at her efforts. At the door, he started to back out with her still in her seat but forgot to stoop. He struck his head on the frame with a loud thump and fell forward. The chair jolted to the floor, and Merle tumbled out. She sat on the floor, stunned for a moment, before pulling her skirts around her legs. The pirate didn’t move. She stood shakily to her feet.

  Pitt guffawed and yelled at Travay who had run to Merle’s aid. “Come here, lassie.” His words slurred. “I’ve waited a long time for you, girl.”

  Travay tossed her head and eyed him coldly.

  “I said come ’ere!” Pitt stood and lunged around the table toward the ladies. He pulled Travay into his thick arms. She tried to push away from him. Every curve of her body spoke defiance.

  Lucas kicked in the long window and burst through the opening onto the table, then jumped to the floor. “You come here, you dogsbody!” He pulled his sword from his side and stomped across broken glass toward Pitt.

  Pitt pushed Travay aside so fast she fell against the wall. Merle rushed to her. They wrapped their arms around each other and huddled in the corner.

  Pitt whisked his sword from its sheath and drove at Lucas. Lucas jumped aside. They parried back and forth, swords clanging and shooting sparks. Lucas found that even with a lot of drink in him, Byron was still a deadly foe.

  Sweat broke out on both men’s faces. Lucas swiped it from his eyes and scrambled away just as Byron made a running drive toward him, bellowing curses. When Lucas bolted aside, Byron’s forward thrust propelled him through the wide broken window and into the sea below.

  Lucas heard the splash, then silence.

  CHAPTER 19

  Lucas pushed his sword back into his baldric, swiped the sweat from his brow, and strode over to Travay and Merle. He took a moment to catch his breath. “Are you two all right?”

  “Yes. Thank God for your rescue, Lucas. Again.” Smiles wreathed Merle’s face.

  He looked at Travay. Her beauty in the bare lights of the lanterns astounded him. Her thick hair, now broken loose from its pearl combs, tumbled down her back. She had not uttered a word. Fear, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. His rasping breath stopped in his throat. If that swine had … had … “Are you well, milady?”

  She lowered her face, and he saw a tear escape from under dark lashes. A fire burned up from his gut. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. He lifted her chin with his thumb. “I asked if you are well, Travay. Did that slimy scalawag hurt you?”

  “No, no, Lucas. He didn’t harm me, and you are hurting my shoulder.”

  Lucas’s breath came easier, and he released her. But she caught his arm.

  “Oh, Lucas, they tide staked Sinbad!” Her moist eyes glistened like sapphires.

  So Travay was becoming a compassionate woman. A great step forward from the arrogant, self-centered woman he had first rescued. “Sinbad is fine. Or at least he was when I left him on deck. I’d better get back up there and see how he and Thorpe and Damon are progressing with the besotted crew. And throw a rope to Pitt if he lives.”

  Lucas didn’t miss the brightness that filled Travay’s face when she heard Sinbad was fine. Nor her whispered, “Thank God.”

  He walked over to the still unmoving Cortez splayed out on the floor. Lucas took the pistol and sword from the man’s side, then pulled a cord from his baldric and tied Cortez’s hands behind his back. He strode back to Merle and Travay. “You two go back to your cabin and bolt the door until we secure the ship.”

  Merle nodded, and the two of them stepped around Cortez and headed back up the corridor.

  After one more glance around, Lucas dashed up the passage.

  A black servant, with a cook’s apron, cowered behind the steps to the deck. He came out and fell down before Lucas. “Capt’n, I’se glad that man’s gone. He wuz a bad one. I’se be glad to serve you if you spare me.”

  Lucas pulled the trembling youth to his feet. “You have nothing to fear if you mean that. Go back to your quarters and plan to serve breakfast to my crew in the morning.”

  “Yessir. Yessir.” The man hurried off.

  On deck, Lucas found an amazing sight. Sinbad and Thorpe had several pirates who had roused from their stupor already in chains and hobbles. Damon continued to check other chained members of the crew who groaned as he pushed at them with the toe of his boot.

  “Great work, men.” Lucas took a deep, relieved breath.

  “We’ll just leave them in these chains until they decide to sign our articles, huh, Captain Bloodstone.” Thorpe wiped the sweat from his upper lip and forehead.

  “That’s right, Thorpe. Meanwhile, I’m going to drop a rope over the side. Byron Pitt might need it.” Lucas hurried to the side of the gently bobbing boat and looked all around in the dark waters. He saw no trace of Pitt. He continued to search around the other sides of the ship in the moonlight, now bright on the island waters.

  He turned to his three-man crew. “At first light, we will search ashore.”

  “Why do you care about the man? He was evil.” Damon stared at Ca
ptain Bloodstone.

  “Because he’s a man made in God’s image, that’s why.” Lucas looked steadily into the young pirate’s eyes until the man ducked his head and resumed tying up Pitt’s crew.

  At first light the next morning, Travay and Merle heard loud groans and curses coming from above. In their cabin, they hurried their morning ritual and slipped up on deck. The sight staggered them. Pitt’s entire crew struggled and cursed against the ropes and chains that held them as they lay or sat scattered about the deck. The smell of rum and unwashed bodies stung Travay’s nose.

  Thorpe, Sinbad, and Damon stood among them, smiling. Lucas stood on the quarterdeck with an eyeglass, scanning the waters and the cove. He stopped and looked long at the beach.

  The chained pirates saw the women and began to whistle and make catcalls until Sinbad and Damon kicked them.

  Thorpe spoke to Travay and Merle. “We think most of these pirates will readily agree to sign articles and sail with Captain Bloodstone when their only other choice is to spend their days and nights in irons. And we’ve just got Captain’s articles written out.”

  One of the pirates, a stocky, deeply tanned middle-aged man, cocked his head at him. “I was forced on this here ship as carpenter, and I swear I’ll be glad to join yer crew if you’ll just get me back to Jamaica. There’s several others got pressed here the same way.”

  Lucas turned to them from the quarterdeck. “Release the carpenter, Thorpe, and have him sign the articles.”

  Other pirates called out and held up their chained wrists. One yelled he was the head cook and if released he’d fix up some grub in no time. Another yelled he was the ship’s doctor and would gladly assist the cook. Sinbad frowned but released both of them after a nod from Lucas. The two men skittered below deck. Two others said they’d be glad to sign articles and sail with Captain Bloodstone and that they were good with the cannons.

  Lucas snapped his eyeglass shut and motioned for Thorpe to join him aside. “Before we release any more, Thorpe, lower the rowboat so I can go bury Pitt. I believe that’s his body on the beach. I’m leaving you, Sinbad, and Damon to handle things until I return.”

  Travay’s heart jolted, and her pulse pounded as Lucas approached them dressed in a billowing green shirt, his dark hair now pulled into a queue. Tight brown breeches disappeared into knee-high boots. The look in his eyes when he met hers sent a tingle to the pit of her stomach. “Ladies, it will be best for you to stay below for the time being. I don’t know how many of this crew we’ll be able to trust, and I will have to release some more to sail the ship.”

  “Lucas, what are you going to do? What are we going to do?” Travay searched his handsome face and willed her heart to slow.

  “First, I am going to bury Pitt.”

  Travay and Merle both flinched.

  “Then we are going to sail the Revenge back to the nearest port where I can find passage for you two to Charles Town.” Lucas turned on his heel and climbed over the ship’s side to the small boat below.

  Travay walked to the railing and watched Lucas row toward the white strip of sand. She sighed, her mind a crazy mixture of hope and fear. Would she and Merle make it to Charles Town like Lucas promised? Would she ever feel safe again? She turned and trudged down to the lower deck with Merle behind her.

  An hour later, a knock sounded at the cabin door. Travay opened it and Lucas entered, a frown shadowing his face.

  Travay’s stomach clenched. “What is it, Lucas?”

  “It’s strange, but when I arrived on the beach, I could not find a body. I walked a half mile up the beach both ways but found nothing.”

  Her throat suddenly dry, Travay swallowed. The crabs? Or was Byron Pitt alive and well and still planning revenge?

  A few days later, Lucas stood on the quarterdeck looking out over the waves sliced by the ship’s hull. From the crow’s nest, Damon cried, “A sail, a sail!” Thorpe bounded up to the quarterdeck as Lucas snapped open his eyeglass.

  After studying the approaching ship, Lucas handed the glass to Thorpe. “What do you think? It’s Spanish, all right, but look what’s hanging from the masthead.”

  Thorpe stared through the glass for a full minute. “It appears to be a bell, but it shines so in the sun I can’t be sure.”

  “It is a bell. A wedding bell.” Lucas took the glass back and confirmed it.

  “A wedding bell. What does it mean?” Thorpe scratched his head.

  “It means it’s a bride ship, taking a Spanish noblewoman to wed some Spanish viceroy she’s probably never seen.”

  “Will we let her pass peaceably?”

  “Of course.” Lucas spat across the railing. “But don’t mention anything about the bell to the crew. Some of them may know what it means and that usually there is a dowry of gold on board with the bride-to-be.”

  But ten minutes later, cannon shot splashed close across their bow. Lucas looked up at the masts and swore. One of the crew they had released must have replaced the English flag he had hoisted earlier. Pitt’s pirate flag flapped in the wind. The next shot hit the mizzen sail. Lucas ducked and began shouting orders to Thorpe. The choice was out of his hands. He would have to unchain a few more men and deal with the culprit later. With Sinbad’s help, he chose the men to be released and then issued orders. “Man the cannon, run up powder cartridges from the magazine, sand the top deck, have the men we can trust arm themselves with pistols, swords, and boarding axes!”

  In the cabin, Travay heard the cannon blasts and thumping feet and shouts on the deck. She trembled and moved close to Merle when someone banged on their door. Merle opened it.

  Damon stood there, his eyes wide. “Cap’n says you leddies are to stay b’low deck. We got a battle on our hands, fer sure.”

  Merle dropped to her knees beside the bed. Travay sat on the bed and wrung her hands. Would she ever want to board another ship? Not if she made it off this one alive.

  Lucas knew the only way to avoid a broadside from the many guns of the galleon was to sail around her and attack across her bow when her crew least expected it. Their smaller brigantine could move faster and with more ease than the larger galleon.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! He smiled at the expertise of Pitt’s gunman. Every shot hit its mark. But the sound of snapping wood and the weird ripping of canvas told him the enemy’s cannon had also reached a mark. He didn’t move fast enough. Pain shot through him as a piece of wood sliced into his arm. He jerked the protruding missile out and pressed his palm against the warm flow of blood. Then he tied his bandana around it as tight as he could. He looked back at the Spanish ship.

  “Fire all guns!” Lucas shouted, and the gunners went back to work. In moments, the simultaneous shots rocked the brigantine under Lucas’ feet from bow to stern. Smoke filled the air and caused him and the pirates below to cough.

  Smoldering flames rose from the Spanish galleon, and by the way its crew scurried on deck, Lucas knew some shots must have hit below the waterline. He directed the helmsman to steer near the beleaguered ship, now with a white flag hoisted on its mast.

  “Prepare to board!” The crew had been waiting to hear the word. They threw their grappling hooks across to the other ship and followed Lucas as he swung aboard, his injured arm all but forgotten. The Spanish fought bravely but were no match for the motley crew with Lucas. Amid crippling cutlasses, screams of pain, and curses, the pirates overcame the ship’s crew in a matter of minutes. Puddles of blood stood on the deck and bodies lay in grotesque death poses.

  Lucas and the Spanish captain crashed about the deck in a deadly sword fight. All the pirates and the Spanish prisoners stood and watched. Finally, Lucas clobbered the sword of his opponent so hard it flew from the man’s hand. Lucas touched the captain’s throat with the tip of his sword. The man backed up to the railing, his rasping breath the only sound. Like a true soldier, he awaited Lucas’ thrust, an angry scowl creasing his face rather than fear of imminent death.

  The pirates shouted obscenities and yel
led, “Kill him! Kill him!”

  The Spanish captain crossed himself, and his eyes betrayed him as if he had just realized his next breath might be his last.

  Lucas pulled his sword back and pushed it into his scabbard. He readjusted the bandana, now a bright red, on his injured arm. He gulped air into his needy lungs. “We really had no plan to harm you, sir. You fired on us first. Now, this motley crew I have to put up with will want any treasure you have aboard.”

  He motioned the captain to take his stand with the other prisoners.

  A flash of gratitude crossed the man’s face, and he moved like a wooden soldier to stand in front of his captured crew. He turned back to Lucas, his bushy brows raised. “What will happen to us, Captain?”

  Lucas’ nostrils flared. “We practice no Inquisition, sir. You will be carried to an island where you will hopefully be picked up by one of your Spanish ships.” He turned away, swallowing bile that had risen in his throat as a face floated into his mind. His sweet mother. What had the Spanish done to her?

  Sinbad stood guard over the prisoners. Thorpe came up to Lucas. “We’ve got to get off this ship as soon as possible. She’s listing. And we need to take a look at that arm of yours, Captain.”

  “It’s not deep, just a little bleeding, Thorpe.” Lucas turned to acknowledge a grisly old pirate at his elbow.

  “Cap’n, when you gonna give us the signal to search out th’ hold?” The man swiped sweat from his scarred upper lip.

  Lucas shouted to his crew gathered around him, “Search the hold.”

  The pirates scurried down into the bowels of the ship. Soon they came back with disappointment on their swarthy faces.

  “Cap’n thar ain’t no treasure in the hold we can find. Just some powder and foodstuffs and chests of women’s clothes. But there is a door barricaded down the passage. Do you want us to knock it down?” The large pirate who spoke had a huge scar down one side of his scraggy face. His dark eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation.