She shook her head and purged her thoughts of them. "It's time to go," she said.
"Aye," said Nathan.
She helped him onto the rail. He struggled out of his shirt, which would only hinder him in the water. It proved difficult to remove with a single arm, and she helped get it over his head. He nodded his thanks and she pushed him off. She watched him touch down with a quiet splash. He immediately started swimming.
Katherine followed, not sparing another glance at Harbinger or the folly of its crew.
NATHAN
The shouts of pirates and the cracks of gunshots and the clashing of swords grew fainter and more intermittent as Nathan paddled toward the beach. The ache in his remaining arm had given to a pleasant numbness. He had quickly developed an effective method for paddling, swishing his arm beneath his body, rather than to the side, and relying heavily on his legs. Adrenaline carried him further than he would have thought possible.
He inhaled deeply as often as he could, his head bobbing above and beneath the water. The waves surged him forward as he neared land. He swept his arm below for another stroke and his fingers raked sand. His legs lifted suddenly into the air and he was thrust forward with startling velocity. The massive wave deposited him carelessly onto the beach like an oversized fish, bits of gritty sand filling his mouth. He rolled onto his back, panting heavily. Water swept onto the beach around him. Silhouetted palm leaves fluttered gently in the breeze, partially obscuring the starry sky.
When Nathan caught his breath, he perched himself on his elbow. Harbinger was completely engulfed in flames. Its form was warped and indistinct, like a log in a fireplace that had burned too long. The sails were gone and only the mainmast remained. Nathan no longer heard the cries of men or the sounds of battle.
The HMS was circling closely, dwarfing the fiery brigantine. Tiny officers stood at the bulwark, probably staring in disbelief. Nathan allowed himself a smile. The king’s fleet never had the chance to take down Harbinger; they could only watch as it destroyed itself.
Something stirred in the water. Nathan shuddered as a shadow rose before him, eclipsing Harbinger. Her hair was matted to her head, glistening dark red, like wine through a murky bottle. Her torn shirt hung loose, a breast carelessly exposed, and her breeches were taut against the lean muscles of her legs. She treaded through the waves, never swaying in the current, until she stood before him, face concealed in shadow. "You swim faster with one arm than I with two," she said.
Nathan laughed. "You frightened me," he said.
She offered a slender hand. He took it and she lifted him up easily. They came face to face, and Nathan was surprised to see a smile. After an awkward pause, he said, "You’re finally quit of pirates."
"Suppose so," she replied casually. "What now?"
"There’s someone I need to see," Nathan said. "And I’d wager there’s a certain Governor Rogers you need to see. Your family will be relieved to know you’re alive."
Her smile faded. She took a step back and turned to look at Harbinger, which was already starting to sink, the water bubbling around it. Her eyes glinted with the reflection of the burning ship. "Yes, I suppose they will," she murmured despondently.
Nathan placed his hand on her shoulder. "You’ve nothing to fear from them now," he said.
"I know," she replied, not taking her gaze from the dying ship. "They were only men."
"Griff figured he’d live forever, I think."
"It was him or me," she said, with no detectable emotion.
"Then you made the right choice," Nathan said, squeezing her shoulder. The muscles slowly eased of tension under his grasp. "We should go, before the Navy shows up."
"I need to watch this," she said, shrugging his hand away.
Nathan avoided looking directly into the blaze. "Seen one fire you’ve seen them all."
"It’s beautiful," she mused. It was the second time he’d heard her say that, and it made even less sense to him now. "In a funny kind of way. It purifies whatever it touches."
"I don’t think it beautiful or funny."
"Not the laughing kind of funny."
"Didn’t know there was another kind," he said with an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t the ideal moment for prolonged cogitation. "We really should—"
"I’m not stopping you," she snapped. She looked at him, instantly repentant, and smiled again. "Go, Nathan. Go find your woman." Nathan was shocked she knew his intention. "I’m sure she’s wonderful."
He lowered his head. A tiny white crab was scuttling along the edge of one of their footprints. It rapidly burrowed a little hole in the sand and disappeared. Smart creatures.
"Nathan," Katherine said, her voice lifting his gaze. "Don’t let them find you. They’ll hang you."
"Thank you, Miss Katherine. But I’m more concerned about how you’re going to convince Governor Rogers you are who you are. Begging pardon, but you look different from when I first saw you."
"That’s my problem, Nathan."
"Well I was formulating a plan on the swim over."
She laughed. "I would have thought you more focused on sculling with one arm."
"That wasn’t so difficult as you might think," he replied with a chuckle. "I was thinking you and me see Governor Rogers together. I can vouch for your identity." He studied her face, waiting for a reaction.
"Nathan, Rogers will string you up faster than—"
"Not if you vouch for me as well."
She bit her lip, eyes darting back and forth. "How would I do that?"
"You tell Rogers I was a deckhand or some such on your ship. I’d wager there’s no record of someone as unimportant as me turning pirate."
"And what if Rogers has Lady Katherine’s log at his disposal?"
"I doubt that!"
"It’s a possibility. They’ve been searching for me, after all. There’s a reward out."
"Logs are tricky things," Nathan shrugged. "They’re always missing someone. Point is, if you vouch for me, there’s no way they can hang me."
"Rogers can hang whomever he likes," Katherine said. "I’ve been gone a long time. For all we know, some wench may have tried to claim my identity already. They may be expecting a scheme, especially from a pirate. And no offense, but you look like a pirate." She tapped the stump where his right arm had been.
His cheeks filled with heat. "Anyone can lose his arm! And you look half a pirate yourself, Miss Katherine!" He waved a hand over her missing ear, careful not to brush the wound.
She merely smiled. "Your plan is well intended, Nathan. It’s also foolhardy. I have no intention of meeting with Rogers. I have no way to prove who I am, and even with your word, he will suspect us both of subterfuge."
Nathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "Miss Katherine, it’s the only way! He won’t hang you if there’s even a chance you are you. Women don’t hang so easily as men."
"There’s an irony," she chuckled.
He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t taking this more seriously. Her life was at stake. Why couldn’t she see that?
"Go to your woman. Do not linger in port for more than a day. Spirit her and yourself somewhere safe. And don’t worry about me. If it’s not obvious by now, I can take care of myself."
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Wet strands of hair touched his face. "Goodbye, Nathan."
Only three emaciated whores loitered within the Strapped Bodice; two brunettes and a blonde. They all sprang hungrily to Nathan’s side as he entered, like starved dogs soliciting their next meal. Having recently emerged from the sea half dead and minus an arm, Nathan must have looked affright, but none of them seemed concerned. He shied away from them and said, "Is Annabelle here?"
The three of them exchanged uncertain glances and then simultaneously said, "That’s my name!"
Nathan shoved past them and ascended the stairs to the private rooms. He searched each and discovered only another skinny, ugly whore engaged in sweaty relations with
a bearded fat man. "Don’t go nowhere, love," she called over her shoulder. "I’ll get you next!"
Time seemed to slow to a halt. As he walked down the stairs with his head cast downward, insignificant details in the wood stood out. The swirls in the crooked planks of each step took on intricate shapes. He saw a ship with three masts in one step, cresting a wave. He saw a cutlass and a pistol in another, crossed at their midsections. He saw a massive, swelling wave that descended into a field of fire. Finally he saw a woman standing over the corpse of her dead husband. Her eyes glared accusingly at him. The swirls seemed to bend as her gnarled fingers came forward, reaching out to him.
"Are you okay, dearie?" said the blonde whore. She touched his shoulder. Perhaps this was only a strategy to lure him into her bed, but a quick glance at her big doe-eyes revealed genuine concern.
The two brunettes studied him from a dark corner.
"Where’s Charles Martel?" Nathan said.
"That rat hasn’t been round for months," the blonde said. "Heard he left for Tortuga."
"I heard Teach got him on the crossing," the taller of the brunettes said. She had an obnoxiously loud voice.
"That’s nonsense, that is," replied the blonde. "Charles had nothing that would concern Teach. Lost all his coin, he did. No more pirates round these parts."
"I see one here," said the loud one, aiming a finger at Nathan.
"I’m no pirate," Nathan said.
"Begging pardon, sir," she said, glancing at his stump.
"What happened to Annabelle?"
"I don’t know no Annabelle," said the blonde.
The loudmouthed brunette stepped forward. "No point looking for that one, dearie. She went with Charles to Tortuga, she did."
"Tortuga?" Nathan repeated despondently. There had to be some mistake.
"She’s got nothing to offer a handsome lad like you, anyway. Not no more."
"What?" Nathan couldn’t make sense of anything this bitch was saying. He suppressed a sudden urge to smack her.
"Someone worked her over good, they did."
His mouth felt numb, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking or thinking the words as he repeated, "Worked her over?"
"A bald man with a terrible temper. What was his name?"
"Edward Livingston," answered the blonde. "Benjamin told me it was his ship what burned up just off shore."
"Right, that’s him!" the brunette said. "Sliced up her face and other parts best left not mentioned. She weren’t so pretty after that." She shrugged. "No matter. The clients still fancied her curves better than the rest of us, and Charles saw fit to take her and leave us behind. Suppose it was for the best. Either she’s been pillaged by Blackbeard or she’s perched atop whoever Governor Rogers hasn’t strung up by their balls, and no woman wants those cocks inside ‘em. I’m happy right where I am, thank you very much."
The blonde scoffed. "You stayed here because Charles took only his finest girls. That’s not our lot."
"There’s plenty of men happy with my cunt."
"They don’t have a choice, do they?" said the blonde. "Men will stick it in a goat when they run out of women."
"Oh, is Benjamin telling stories again?"
"He’s a fine man, he is. He’s gone respectable."
"No respectable man would stick it in you!"
The two whores were at each other’s throats as Nathan walked out of the Strapped Bodice and into the night air. He moved slowly down the steps, staring at them as he had done before, but unable to find any images within the wood for all the darkness. He stopped on the last step and craned his neck, taking in the stars.
There was a hollow, hungry feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knew no amount of food would appease it. He absently rubbed the stump where his arm had been.
Annabelle was gone. Why hadn’t she waited for him? Had she been afraid to show him her face, after what that monster Livingston had done to her? Did she not realize that she would always be beautiful to him, no matter what? She couldn’t have given up on him so easily. Perhaps Martel had given her no choice.
Or mayhap she’s dead, killed by Edward Teach. But why would Teach bother with a ship full of strumpets? Teach loved strumpets as much as the next pirate, but he wasn’t fool enough to take them aboard his ship.
No, she is alive. I can feel it.
He would find her, and no matter what Livingston had done to her, his unconditional love would prove to her just how true he was. His only hope would be to charter a ship to Tortuga, but how would he do that without coin? Could he steal a ship? He looked out across the bay and saw the HMS in the distance, silhouetted black against the dim cobalt horizon. There were several other ships in the bay, one of them larger than the others. It was difficult to make out what type from this distance in the middle of the night.
His shoulders sagged. How would he steal a ship without help? A one-armed man couldn’t hope to row a boat, let alone captain a crewless ship. He was as penniless as the day he had joined Griffith’s crew, with absolutely nothing to show for his time as a pirate, aside from a missing arm. He was less now than he was, and he was stuck in the last place a pirate wanted to be, with a governor that would gladly string him up with whoever had been unlucky enough to survive Harbinger’s demise.
HORNIGOLD
"Where is she?" Benjamin Hornigold asked the black-skinned man who was vehemently sweeping the floor of Sassy Sally’s tavern. Hornigold wasn’t sure why the man was so intent upon his task when the place was completely empty. The near-to-spotless floor appeared as though it hadn’t seen many visitors of late. The sweeper shook his head, pointed to his mouth, and muttered something in gibberish. Hornigold seized the man’s broom to halt his incessant sweeping and said, "No English?"
"No," the black man replied.
"A girl," Hornigold said, and he emphasized the point by cupping his hands before his pecks and moving them up and down. The black man grinned and nodded sagaciously. He pointed upward.
Hornigold released the broom and said, "Have your cook bring a bowl of turtle soup upstairs, and tell him if he spits in it again, I’ll split him from cock to apple." The black man frowned. Hornigold formed the shape of a bowl with one hand and dipped a phantom spoon into it with the other. The man nodded his understanding and retreated to the back.
Hornigold climbed the dark stairway to the second floor, which beheld a lovely open view of the colony and harbor. Apart from a few children, merchants, and sailors, the streets were mostly empty. A lone dog roamed the beach.
Hornigold spotted his beloved sloop, Ranger, in the bright blue waters. Her clean white sails shone brilliantly in the unobstructed sun, nearly blinded him. A hulking HMS was moored in the distance beyond, unable to proceed further into the shallow bay for fear of running aground. He wondered if the combined might of the two ships would be enough to scuttle Edward Teach’s flagship. He cursed his naiveté in handing Teach the Concord, which Teach had subsequently bestowed with a ghastly name and set her upon the British vessels that Hornigold had been wise enough to avoid.
He turned from the view and focused his attention on the task at hand. He was, after all, Woodes Rogers’ man now. Blackbeard would soon be dead, one way or another. The age of piracy was nearing its end; Teach simply hadn’t caught on to that fact. History may recall your name, Hornigold thought, but I will to see you dead.
He rapped on the door of the first room. When no answer came, he moved to the second. After a moment, a female voice said, "Who’s there?"
"I’m Captain Benjamin Hornigold," he answered.
"I don’t know you," came her muffled reply.
"I know you," he called. "Can we talk for a moment?"
"I don’t think so."
"I imagine you’re hungry," Hornigold said.
He waited. The door opened. The light spilled in on the wildest mane of red hair he’d ever seen. The face within was beautiful, but clearly exhausted and pained. Her lips were cracked, her left cheek was bruised, and
blood stained her torn shirt, which she was holding closed with a clenched fist. She squinted in the sun, squeezing one eye closed.
Hornigold offered his hand. She regarded it suspiciously for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, and finally took it. He guided her to a little round table and offered her a chair. She pulled away from his grasp and sat down. She tossed her hair out of her face, and for a moment he glimpsed her right ear, or rather the hole where he ear should have been, before her hair fell back into place. He held in a gasp of revulsion.
"What do you want?" she asked, looking out across the harbor. Her hoarse voice broke on the last word.
Hornigold took off his long maroon coat and hung it over his chair before sitting opposite the woman. He brushed wayward bits of dust from his white shirt and adjusted the white handkerchief that hung loose around his neck. Finally, he revealed his intent. "I’m looking for Katherine Lindsay."
If that name meant anything to her, she managed not to show it. "I don’t know who that is."
"She went missing a year ago." Hornigold set one leg across the other and rubbed annoying smudges of sand from his polished leather boot. "Her husband was killed by pirates. The family is looking for her."
"That’s sad," the redhead said, her incredulous expression betraying no hint of emotion.
"She was kidnapped by a rather elusive pirate named Jonathon Griffith. I knew him briefly. A generally decent man." Her right eye twitched, but Hornigold couldn’t be sure if that was a reaction to the sunlight or the sting of his intentional baiting. "Griffith perished last night, just out there," he pointed to the bay. "Perhaps you saw the fire?"
"I did," she said. She looked at him. "You take the time to personally inform every resident of this?"
Hornigold smiled politely. "Most of the pirates on that ship are dead. Those few that were caught will hang shortly. However, a one-armed young man named Nathan Adams presented himself to Woodes Rogers yesterday."
She blinked.
"It seems this Adams is eager to claim the reward for Lindsay’s safe return. He claims that he served as a deckhand on Lindsay’s ship and was taken hostage along with her. He claims that Lindsay and he escaped from Griffith’s ship last night and swam to shore."
The Devil's Fire: A Pirate Adventure Novel Page 24
