The Pirate's Daughter

by Marie Hall

  Chapter 30

  “Mia, my siren,” Papa’s voice floated into her dream. “What have you done to yourself with all this worry?”

  “Papa?” Mia called and fought to open her eyes.

  “Aye, you must stop this, Mia. It’s no way to sail a ship,” Papa said and Mia felt arms go around her and lift her so she could hear the steady beating of a heart.

  “I found one, Papa. I found one but he took him from me,” Mia said and let the tears fall. How could he do that?

  “Found one you did, now let Papa take care of it Mia. Let Papa do the rest.”

  “He took him from me. I want to hear him say it but he took him,” Mia said, not sure exactly why the man she loved, the man who claimed to love her, would strike such a crippling blow. “He shouldn’t have taken away my chance.”

  “Papa will take care of it,” he said.

  “Of Devin?” Did she want that?

  “Captain Winthrop followed my orders, siren. He did as I commanded, like you should do. Papa will take care of this. Papa will, I swear.”

  “How will you get him now, Papa? They have him.”

  “Let Papa take care of it, Mia. I will I swear it to you.”

  Mia sobbed. Of course if Papa said he’d do something, he’d do it. Mia had no doubt. Papa spent far more years tracking down the crew of those ships. “Give them to the Blood Man, Papa.”

  “Aye, Papa will take care of it, Mia,” he said and Mia felt him begin to sway. “Now it’s time to hush. Sleep. No dreams.” Mia clung to him, focused on the sound of his heartbeat.

  Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies.

  Farewell and adieu you, ladies of Spain;

  For we took on cargo bound for Montego,

  but we hope in a short time to see you again

  We'll rant and we'll roar, like true Merchant seaman.

  We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas;

  Until we strike the harbor that pays us a good charter

  From Ushant to Sicily 'tis thirty-five leagues.

  Mia listened to her papa singing and let the words and the motion soothe her.

  “You must forgive him Mia, he only followed my orders,” she heard Papa say, but she shook her head. How could she? It was her chance to do something to make up for how Mama and Charlie died. He’d stolen that from her. “Aye, you’ll forgive him Mia. Papa will take care of this, but you’ll forgive him.” Papa was captain. Mia signed the Articles. She nodded, closed her eyes and again let the song carry her some place that still felt safe.

  Then we hove our ship to, with the wind at the sou'west,

  Then we hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear;

  Then we filled the main topsail

  And bore right away, girl

  For straight up the coastline of Bangalore did sail.

  “Do you know the words?” Mia heard Papa saying as she was shifted and her nose was filled with the warm spicy scent of Devin.

  “Not the way you sing them.” How disapproving he sounded.

  “She won’t care, navy man.”

  Again, Mia felt the gentle rocking and this time it was the low tenor of Devin’s voice singing the words. A hand passed over her head and someone kissed her cheek. The floorboards creaked and Mia let the motion and the singing call her to sleep.

  Chapter 31

  Devin lifted his head and his eyes clashed with the pale jade ones staring at him through strands of black hair. He shifted on the chair and reached to brush the hair back from her face. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” she said. She sniffed and tried to wipe her nose with her cuff. The heat and the hate he’d seen and heard from her before she fainted was gone. Replaced by some uncertainty and weariness.

  “We’re about three days sailing from Cartagena,” he told her and watched her eyes fill with tears. Damn. She was hurting because she missed a chance to get revenge. He might want it to have gone another way, to give her satisfaction, but he’d have turned his back on every principle that guided his life in doing so. He sighed and edged his way onto the bed beside her. “Justice will be served, Mia. You’ll have that.” He was cautious, putting an arm around her and sliding closer. He felt her nodding her head and heard her sniff again.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, too.” He was never sorrier to deny her whatever that was.

  The commodore’s reassurances she’d sail on steady again in a day or so were hard to believe. Almost as hard to believe as the fact he’d sneaked a pirate onboard a military ship in the dead of night to do nothing more really than sing a song to his daughter. But when he’d gotten the note saying the man was waiting to see Mia, he didn’t feel like he had a choice. Her father knew what happened on board. Because Mia wasn’t faring well, Devin felt rather compelled for no other reason than to keep his ship and her crew safe. Mostly though, to ensure the man didn’t try and take Mia back. At least an on-board visit gave Devin the advantage.

  He’d watched then, as the man spent some time whispering to her as she slept. What was said he didn’t know. The language wasn’t one Devin could even guess at. But the man’s tone and his expressions as he spoke to the sleeping woman conveyed the kind of love so few were lucky enough to witness, let alone have. Devin had no doubts that man would take on the world for his daughter. It didn’t take long for him to rouse Mia. Something no one onboard had been able to do, not even Krebs with his smelling salts. The very brief exchange between them was oddly similar to the one Devin witnessed when they’d been forced to wed. No harsh demands, not a single sharp word, just an indulgence that somehow gained compliance.

  “Captain?”

  “Say my name, Mia.” He held his breath.

  “Devin?” she said and it sound as it always did coming off her lips.

  “Aye,” he answered, his confidence building again.

  “I’m a little hungry. Is it near supper?”

  Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. “It could be just past breakfast and I’d still see you have something to eat,” Devin said pulling away and sitting up a bit. “We took on a few supplies in Port Royal. Is there something you want? Beef maybe?” He bought the meat with his own money rather than ship’s funds so he could hold it all for Mia. “There are more oranges now, too.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Anything will be nice.”

  “I’ll see to it then. Should I send in Mr. Hong with some water and fresh clothes?” She’d been in bed for a week, drifting in and out of sleep. She nodded, then rolled to her back before sitting up. Devin stood and started for the door, a little hesitant to leave her unsupervised even for a moment. She might have hauled in those sheets, but he knew she could raise them again in a heartbeat and he’d be seeing her going over the rail into the sea.

  He had to trust her though. The commodore told him if he showed her any doubt she’d give him double the same. Her word was everything to her, like it was with any ship’s captain. She’d given her word she’d forgive him whatever crime she accused him of. So he had to put faith in that meant she’d not jump ship on him.

  He closed the door and made his way on deck, happy to run into Mr. Hong and Grim so quickly. He sent Grim down to keep her company, as Hong went to fetch water. Now he had someone to watch her that wouldn’t look like he was there to watch her.

  “Captain?” Mr. Asher said, coming up followed by his other officers.

  He cleared his throat at the touching way his men’s obvious concern for his wife showed through. “Mrs. Winthrop might like some food, she says,” he said and the men around him cheered.

  “Gave us a scare that one,” Mr. Quiggly complained in a gruff tone that belied him wiping at his eyes.

  “She’s fit to sail,” Devin confirmed.

  “Aye, but is she fit to shoot me?” Mr. Asher asked, reminding Devin it was he who’d helped chain Mia to the ship.

  “I’d not worry too much Mr. Asher. If she’s a mind to shoot anyone, it
’d be me and I believe all is forgiven.”

  “Besides, Mrs. Winthrop seems more the kind to drop you on a shoal and let you die slow like and all of heat and thirst,” purser Dickson commented cheerfully. Everyone but Mr. Asher laughed. Mia was turning his entire crew into pirates. Such tactics were not above board with navy men.

  Again, Devin cleared his throat. “All right, men. Let’s sail her into port. And pray we find our orders home waiting there.”

  The men scattered as Lieutenant Coventon stepped up. “Mrs. Winthrop is truly on the mend?”

  “Seems so. I’m sure by the time we reach port she’ll be fighting to go ashore.” Devin said, walking back to the helm to wait for a meal to be taken in to Mia.

  “Are you going to take her ashore?” the man asked incredulously.

  “I think I have to,” Devin said with a chuckle. “But I might be a wiser man to have us shackled together when we go.”

  The man’s bark of laughter rang out and turned heads even as he tried to cover it with a cough and prevent another from escaping. “It’s always good to know I’m learning from a man who considers all the options.” Again, he tried not to laugh.

  “Indeed, Lieutenant,” Devin said and took the helm. He sailed the ship into port at Cartagena under the remains of the old fortress brought to ruin almost a century ago. A testament to how such tumultuous times could damage so much but still leave enough of a reminder of what was there before if anyone was so willing to rebuild.

  That Mia stood at his side as the ship dropped anchor and that she took his hand as they disembarked said she was so willing. He couldn’t help his own pride walking down the streets with her at his side. Or laughing when she quarreled bitterly with a shopkeeper over the price of things or even his gratitude at her remembering the bill of supplies he needed to give to the man at the chandlery. The ship would be at port this time long enough to take on a full load of supplies and have the bilge pump repaired properly. This time when they sailed out it would be across the Atlantic heading for home—heading for England.

  Mia hesitated again to ask, but she knew it could well be their last day in port and given Devin held the documents telling him to take the Iron Rose back to Portsmouth, she might not get this chance again for a long while. Still, she hesitated.

  “Was there any last thing you wanted to do, Mia, before we set sail?” he asked, smiling at her so her heart pounded a bit harder.

  “Aye,” she hesitated again.

  “Are you going to tell me, or do I guess?” he teased, smiling as he brought her hand to his lips.

  “I wonder might we go up a bit to Santo Domingo?” She saw him hesitate. “It’s not but an hour by horse, a little more by coach,” she rushed on, hoping to gain his compliance.

  “Can you even ride?” he asked.

  She hoped he’d melt at the look she gave him. Papa made sure she was capable of such things. He should know that.

  He only laughed. “Well, I’m not sure I can, but if you get a coach we can make the trip,” he said and opened his arms when she came to sit in his lap. "What's there?"

  “My mother,” Mia said, reveling in how his arms tightened around her. “One time more before I leave here is all I want.”

  “Mia,” Devin snapped, cutting her off. “Of course, we’ll go.” He softened his tone and lifted a hand to her head, bringing it down to his shoulder. “I’d not deny you such a thing,” he said and squeezed her again.

  “We can, but will we?” She didn’t think so. They were heading to his home. They were exchanging these beautiful warm islands for his cold and dark one, and she didn’t think he’d be inclined to leave again once settled.

  He didn’t answer her. He was in his own thoughts as they took a coach further inland to the lovely church with the well-kept graveyard. He held her hand again as she led him to the half-finished stone carving of a life-size angel, arms outstretched and face tilted up. Kneeling down, she pulled the few weeds that dared to grow there and hide the engraving.

  Molly Cadley—read the first line. The second—June the Fifth 1787 to August the Ninth 1815 and the last the only quote she’d not been able to put her own mark on, chosen by not just Papa but by all the crew. From the patron saint of all maritime—Help me to journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown. St. Brendan The Navigator.

  “Such a beautiful piece, Mia,” Devin said and she looked to see him admiring the statue. “It seems unfinished.”

  Mia smiled sadly at him. “Like her life, I think,” she said and saw him flush a bit. “It was the piece she was working on when she was killed. That’s what she did. Most all the pieces here are her work, as are many through the city as well. Some were in private homes, but I think Papa bought most of those back when she died. I don’t know where they are.”

  Devin looked around. It was clear in his expression when he spotted one of those pieces. Her style and talent were very distinguishable.

  Mia shifted to the grave next to her mother’s. The art here wasn’t her mother’s work, but a piece by the young man her mother taught her craft to—a swaddled infant curled in a wave. Again, Mia brushed her hands over the engraving. Charles Cadley Drekker: November the Twentieth 1814 to August the Ninth 1815. No other words were on the plaque. What did one say to memorialize a soul not even alive a year? No one had known and so Papa left it.

  “Who’s this Mia?” Devin asked coming down on his knees and reaching around her to pull a few overgrown bits of grass away. “Cadley Dekker? A relation of yours?”

  “Papa’s son, his real child with Mama. His blood. They both died when the ship’s cannon hit the house.” Mia suddenly didn’t want to go with Devin to England. She didn’t deserve to escape these reminders. She needed to stay until she did right by both of them. But what to tell him that he might leave her behind when he sailed?

  “Mia,” he said pulling her back against him.

  “I did this Devin. I caused this. You should know that about me. They’re dead because of me.” That should send him running. After all, she’d wished Lieutenant Coventon eaten and he almost was. She’d wished Devin eaten by a squid some time ago. She wished death on people and it happened. Even if she took it back and spared Devin and even if she’d gotten to Jonah in time, that didn’t mean she was less responsible. She’d wished so hard for Charlie to be gone. She’d prayed for it every night. She didn’t know she’d get her wish, but it had come at such a cost—her mother and in a way, her papa too.

  “Mia, didn’t they die in the attack?” Devin asked, again reaching to pull away an annoying blade of grass. “You said the attack on the harbor and village is how they died. Didn’t you?”

  “I wished for it though,” she said and heard his sharp intake of breath. “I didn’t want Charlie. Papa and Mama loved him more. He was Papa’s real child. I didn’t want him to always have Papa’s attention. The last time Papa came to port before the attack, he stopped to see Charlie but he didn’t wait for me to come home. I wished Charlie dead. I wished him dead and that’s what happened. But not Mama. I wanted her to stay. But Charlie got to take her with him and Papa will never have his real child because of me.”

  “Mia, God save us,” he cried and forced her around and into his arms. “Mia you didn’t cause this and you are your papa’s daughter.”

  “I’m not,” Mia said and turned her face into his coat. “I’m not. I’m some other man’s child and he didn’t want me. Papa should have his son—his real son. But I wished him away and God took them both,” she said and bit down on the sob. “I’m bad.”

  “Oh Mia, you’re not bad at all. Not at all. You didn’t cause this. You’re not responsible for this. And you are the commodore’s daughter. His real daughter.”

  “I wished it,” she said and grabbed hold of his coat because now that she said it she didn’t want him to leave for England without her.

  “And every single sibling ever living has wished the very same. It’s what we do. It’s what all of us do. Not only on yo
unger siblings, but on older. Not only on half siblings, but on blooded ones. It’s what we do Mia. And sometimes tragedy strikes. But it’s that—a tragedy—not a wish granted. You’re not bad for wishing what millions of others have wished. Never think that again,” he said and forced her back, then forced her chin up, “and never think again you’re not your papa’s real child, his true daughter. I’ve seen him Mia, and his love for you. There’s nothing like it in the world. You’re his daughter, maybe not of his loins but of his heart. That another was so foolish as to cast you away means nothing. The commodore found you, and he knows what a treasure you are. You don’t need to share blood to be his. It’s better even because that means he chose you the same as he chose me for you. He knew the perfection you are when he laid eyes on you and he knew I’d see it too. You’re his child Mia, and nothing will change that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aye.” He sounded it, too.

  The wind picked up and the heavy scent of lilies filled the air. Her mother loved lilies, kept them fresh in the house all the time. It was a soothing scent and it mixed perfectly with Devin’s.

  “Should we go?” he asked standing and pulling her to her feet. “It’ll be dark before we reach the ship.”

  “Aye, captain,” Mia said, then turned one more time to look at the winged woman with her outstretched arms. She waited until Devin stepped away. “He’ll help on this journey into the unknown, won’t he, Mama?” Again, the wind lifted and Mia drew in a deep breath. Happiness would be between her shoulders and her knees and she’d live this life before she died. And Captain Devin Winthrop would steer the heading she’d follow. Sailing would be good.

  She reminded herself of that as she stood on deck and looked out over the dark waters of the Atlantic, straight over the bow. Devin didn’t let her look aft. What lay before her she wasn’t sure, but she was ready to find out.