Pirate's Conquest

by Mary Martin

  "He was stone sober when he told me," Starlin said, tossing another potato in the pot.

  Mammy Juno paused in peeling a carrot to consider Starlin's words.

  "The ship was never found. No one survived, except Benton, and that was a miracle of sorts. Mr. Cambridge loved all of you very much. And I know if he could be around, he would not be sneaking about like some ghost. He is dead, or he'd have come back to help us in our time of need. Now I may be one to fear the spirits, but this one is not Mr. Cambridge. I know that."

  "Well—something isn't right around here," Starlin mumbled, jabbing the knife into a bad spot on a potato.

  "What do you think it is?"

  "Who—is more like it." Mammy Juno paused. "Maybe it's some other poor soul? Heaven knows them wicked coral reefs have left enough spirits around here."

  Starlin knew she was referring to the countless number of ships that had gone down because of the deadly reefs which run parallel to the Keys and to the Dry Tortugas. Every person in Key West had his own tales of superstition and ghostly apparitions. Starlin had no idea why anyone would want to prowl the estate—and especially around the playhouse—at all hours of the night, but she thought perhaps she just might sit up a night or two and see if "this ghostly prowler" appeared.

  Around seven o'clock she brought Benton his dinner, and, to her utter disbelief, saw that he was up and moving about his room. He watched her calmly as she entered the room.

  "Dinner? Mmmm, it smells delicious." He sat at a nearby table and waited for her to place the tray before him.

  She did so, and lifted the napkin off the pot roast and vegetables.

  "Who untied you?"

  He picked up a hot roll. "Mammy Juno." Biting into it, he favored her with a pleased smile. "These are really good. Did you make them?"

  Starlin felt all of her patience slipping away. Was there no one she could trust. While she could understand Mammy Juno's reluctance, and even guilt at keeping Benton tied to his bed, she knew also that just as soon as he had the opportunity he'd be at the bottle once again. She shook the napkin out forcefully, her expression one of concern.

  "Don't look so upset. Mammy Juno isn't to blame. I am. She's been taking care of me for so long now that she just can't say no to anything I ask her."

  Starlin sighed. "Oh, Benton. I'm not mad at anyone. It's just that I want to help you so much. And now I know what you are going to do."

  "Stop trying, Starlin. Just leave me be. I don't want your help—never did."

  Starlin was saddened by his callous words. "We'd fare better in this house, if we could be friends at least."

  He laughed harshly. "There isn't a chance in hell of that, darlin'. It's better if we just know where we stand with each other—point-blank. At one point, I'd thought it might be nice to see you again. But I've changed my mind. I don't like you here interfering in my life, and my business. And I'll be real happy when you leave." He took a bite of his food, chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then continued. "In the past, I blamed you because my father never loved me as much as he loved you, his stepchild. But I know it wasn't your fault now. I don't blame you. I just don't like you. You always were a strong, independent person—and everyone paid you notice. Instead of shunning you, perhaps I should have taken the time to study you, and learn something."

  "You are a hard, bitter man," she said, feeling pity for him. "And I wish it were not so."

  He sipped at his coffee and sat back to favor her assessingly. "It's too late for us to go back and mend fences, Starlin. Forget about me."

  Starlin shook her head. "No ... I can never forget you, Benton. And it's never too late to start over. I, for one, am not giving up."

  His eyes followed her from the room.

  Starlin told no one of her plans to watch the grounds at night. She waited until everyone had gone to bed, then went up to the widow's walk where she could observe the entire island, and sat and waited for the surreptitious ghost to appear. There was no sign of him on the first and second nights. On the third evening, she had to wait an especially long time for the house to quiet down, as Benton was having a particularly bad time of it this evening. He and Arman were passing the time playing cards in Benton's room. He was drinking again. Where he got the bottle she did not know, nor did she interfere.

  Once again, there appeared nothing moving except the trees. Starlin was given to wonder if perhaps Benton had been imagining the figure he'd seen. She waited until past midnight and then she decided to turn in for the night. It was then she swore she saw a movement close to the house, darting behind a banyan tree. She waited, and watched, but there was nothing further. With a shrug, she went inside.

  The house was quiet; everyone presumably had settled down for the remainder of the night. She went immediately to her bedroom and began to take off her clothes. It was hot and stuffy in her room. She threw open the doors leading out onto the veranda to allow air to circulate throughout. Padding barefoot back to her small dressing room, she shucked her chemise and underclothes and splashed water from the washbowl over her face and body. She reached for her nightrail, hanging on a hook on the wall, and slipped it over her head. With a tired yawn, she shuffled across the room, blew out the lamp, and slid into bed. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow. And awake just as quickly when she felt someone sit on the bed right next to her. Her eyes flew open. A rough-calloused hand had already covered her mouth.

  In the moonlight shadows, her eyes stared up at him, wide and not without fright. Rayne! her mind screamed. He answered as if he read her very thoughts.

  "You didn't think I would allow you to get away from me that easily, did you, my beauty?'

  "Mmmrrggr" came the enraged mumbling from beneath his palm, eyes shooting daggers at Rayne Morgan's grinning countenance.

  "I want you to come back with me. You don't belong here anymore."

  She shook her head negatively, trying to remain calm, but with his hand resting just beneath her breast, lightly pressing against her rib cage, she knew he could feel the frightened pounding of her heart.

  "I have to talk to you, and I need answers. So I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth. But I swear to you—if you make so much as a peep to warn anyone, I'll make certain you don't sit for a week. Do you understand?'

  Starlin glared reproachfully at him for a moment, and then nodded.

  Slowly, never quite sure of her, Rayne removed his hand.

  She shot up in bed, her face zeroing in so close to his that their noses were almost touching. "Ghosts! Benton

  said! Someone prowling about that looks like our father, he said!" She hissed in outrage. "I'd be willing to bet that 'the ghost' is sitting right here in my bed with me this very minute!"

  "Dammit woman! What kind of nonsense are you talking about now?" Rayne grabbed her shoulders, his patience worn thin.

  "Benton claims he's been seeing someone rather odd around the place at night. I'd say you fit the de­scription."

  Rayne glared. "Where exactly?'

  "The playhouse mostly."

  "You mean that miniature replica of this place is a playhouse?" he snorted.

  "Yes," she gritted. "Carl had it built for me years ago. We spent many hours there together—happy times that I cherish."

  Rayne released her and sat back to ponder her words. Starlin observed him closely.

  "What are you thinking, Rayne?"

  He looked at her.

  "I was only there one time, Starlin—tonight."

  She could not suppress a gasp.

  "But I rather doubt it was a ghost the other times." And then his voice hardening. "I think it was someone who was very much alive prowling about—looking for something."

  "Why is it that I have the distinct feeling that you are going to tell me that there is a deep, dark secret here. I know nothing about, but that you seem to?' Her eyes were wary.

  She watched him remove the ring from his finger. He tossed it to her. She caught it and favored him wit
h a puzzled frown.

  "Look closely at the ring and tell me what you see."

  The moonlight shone brightly on the stones. Starlin stared at it, glanced back up at him, then stared at it again. It was similar to the design on the books.

  "A beautiful ring with a strange design . .." Her eyes widened, ".. . swirling through the stone." A memory taunted her.

  He grinned at her. "I see our minds are thinking alike for a change. I believe the ring is a clue to a journal that took Carl years to compile. He never gave up his quest for the treasure. It became his obsession."

  "And of course you want it." Her voice rose. "You've been scheming the entire time to get your hands on it!"

  "Believe whatever you like," he said unemotionally. "But I will have that journal."

  "And what if I decide you won't?"

  His laugh was infuriating to her.

  "I doubt anyone can stop me. And if you don't help me find it your midnight prowler just might decide to enlist your help." He reached out to take her hand within his. She jerked it away from him as though his touch seared her.

  "Such a smooth liar," she said acidly. "You've been after the journal the entire time, I think. You've done everything to destroy my business, my family—and me. But I swear to you, Rayne, if you keep burning my ships—"

  "I didn't burn your ship the other day!" He cut her off.

  "You didn't?' she exclaimed.

  "Not that I didn't entertain the thought. But seeing you changed my mind, although someone is set on destroying you. It's the same person who's been attacking many of the salvaging ships and burning warehouses in an effort to gain complete control of the industry. He's been using me as his shield. I admit, before I came to England and met you, I did intercept a few of your ships. But lately I seem to find myself merely confiscating your goods to keep them from this pirate. I'm not good at explaining things, but I want to help you. The last haul was Pharmaceuticals. I already have a buyer for you who I think will pay handsomely."

  "Stop it!" she cried, afraid to hope. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

  He leaned forward to brush his lips across hers, as if he could not help himself any longer. "I've missed you—even your sharp little tongue—very much."

  Starlin could only stare at him. "If you are lying to me again, I'll—"

  "I'm not," he interceded, his eyes meeting hers and making her heart leap.

  To cover her flustered nerves, she looked away from him and down at the ring. She studied it, and then she remembered. "The books in the playhouse have a similiar design. Carl bought them in Italy years ago."

  "Your father, you mean?"

  "My stepfather, actually."

  Her statement nearly took his breath away. "Your ... stepfather?'

  Starlin nodded. "Yes. We loved each other as if we were true blood kin. My real father died when I was a baby. Carl adopted me and raised me as his own."

  Rayne grew quiet. "What a bloody fool I have been," he muttered disgustedly. And then speaking slowly, as

  if humility were indeed hard for him to swallow, "I'm sick to death of all of it. The hatred, the bitterness."

  Starlin took a deep breath. "Most of your bitterness was turned inward, upon yourself, Rayne. I think perhaps you are learning that now."

  "What happens to us now, Starlin?" he asked quietly.

  "I don't know," she said honestly. "You treated me very well in some respects, and you allowed me to express my opinions freely. Even if you didn't always agree with them. You were the only man who ever listened to me as if you truly were interested in my views—about some things, anyway. But you did your part to destroy something precious to me ... and I can't easily forgive you for that."

  "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I just seek a truce, that's all." His voice was husky. "Help me, Starlin. And in return, I shall help you put an end to this treasure matter forever." He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. She was fighting hard for control.

  "Lord, how I want to believe you."

  "Then do."

  Starlin decided to tell him everything. "I believe that Carl was in love with your mother at one time. I've considered many things of late. And I don't think he would have taken advantage of that love. Just as you say you cannot take advantage of mine. Don't you see ... your mother and Carl knew they could not betray their love with a sordid affair. The ring was the only way that she could express her love to him. It was a symbol. She wanted somehow to make him happy."

  She hesitated, recalling once again Carl's words the day that he'd given her the ring. "And he understood this. I think a part of the quest was for her also. He told me the ring had been given to him in love, and that love would guide me. It's time we put a bit of trust in the people that we love ... and also in each other."

  Starlin followed Rayne into the dark playhouse. She could never remember having been here at night. In the shadows she sought out his hand.

  "It doesn't look quite so cheery," she remarked.

  Rayne released her hand. "Stay put until I light a candle."

  "There's one sitting on the table beneath the window."

  It was quiet, and then she heard him fumbling around.

  "I found it."

  Within minutes the candle flickered to life and the room glowed softly.

  Starlin wasted no more time and approached the bookshelves to stare at the beautifully bound volumes.

  "There are so many. This could take all night."

  Rayne brought the candle over and stood beside her. "Look closely at the ring. The design on the book we're looking for should be identical to the one in the ring."

  She saw that many of the books bore designs, some simple, others more intricate. "Yes, I think you're right." She was becoming more excited as her eyes skimmed each volume. There were shelves from the floor to the ceiling. She saw nothing that caught her attention. How strange, she mused, that she'd never seen the similarity between the design in the ring and that on the book covers. She paused and went back to examine one volume a bit closer. It was similar, but not exact. She was becoming frustrated.

  "There isn't any that looks exactly like the ring."

  "It has to be here," Rayne insisted, perusing another shelf.

  Suddenly, with a startling flash of memory, Starlin recalled every detail of that last day she saw her parents alive. Carl had watched her closely while he told her to remember that love would guide her. Love! That was it. A book of romantic sonnets! She remembered Carl had composed a book of sonnets. He had never read any of it to her, yet had worked on it incessantly, sometimes even coming alone to the playhouse late at night to write. Her eyes searched for it on the book­shelves. It was nowhere to be seen.

  And then she thought about where she would put it if she intended a small child to find it. How tall was she then? She dropped quickly to her knees and began removing books from the shelf. At last she found the book she was looking for.

  Her heart beating a tattoo against her rib cage, she pried it loose. Holding the ring in the light of the candle, Starlin was able to discern that the design on the book's leather-bound cover was the same as on the ring.

  She opened it slowly.

  Carl's handwriting filled the pages. Tears formed in Starlin's eyes. "I think I've found it," she said, her tone a little breathless.

  He had written down everything. His feelings, his hopes, and dreams. And as she sat down on the floor and continued reading, she became aware, that interwoven in the prose were cleverly phrased words, each interlinked with the word Love. And if she wrote it all down on paper, she was certain it would clearly point the way to the treasure.

  Love will guide you, he had told her. At the time she'd been too young to understand. And after her parents' death she had never come into the playhouse again.

  Rayne looked at her in anticipation. "Is that the journal?"

  "Yes, it is." She met his eyes. "It's been here all along."

  She saw a furtive movement behind Ra
yne. Some­one had just stepped into the room. Starlin let out a relieved sigh. "Benton! What are you doing out here?"

  His words were slurred. "I heard you two talking in your room. I was intrigued. I followed you."

  She saw a flash of white teeth in the dim light.

  "So, he had it hidden here the entire time. Waiting for you to grow up and find it, should he not return. It took a long time for you to come back. Father's been watching for you. I see him out here quite often now."

  "Carl is dead, Benton," Starlin said firmly.

  "Then why do I see him around the playhouse?' He appeared to consider his own question. "I think he's checking on me... making certain I don't snoop around here and find it."

  "You can't honestly believe that Carl—"

  Rayne put a hand on Starlin's arm to quiet her.

  "What is going on, Benton?" Rayne asked calmly.

  Benton swayed on his feet, one eye focusing on Rayne. "You!... I heard everything you said to Starlin in her room. The man everyone thinks is a pirate-hunter... is a pirate himself." He laughed, bemused by it all. "And my dear Starlin is married to him!" He pointed a finger at her. "Even though Father wanted you to have it, Starlin, you will not. The treasure is rightfully mine, you know. I almost lost my life searching for it."

  "I have a suspicion your brother knows more about that fateful day than he is admitting," Rayne said to Starlin.

  "What really happened back then?' Starlin asked quietly. "I think now you are ready to tell it."

  Benton sighed heavily. "Perhaps I am at that." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I have been running. from it long enough, I think. From the start, the entire expedition was doomed. I never wanted to go to the Triangle. That place is cursed. Strange sights, ghostly fogs, and some sort of magnetic pull that draws boats off course, sometimes into reefs, others simply just disappearing. That force is the way to the treasure, don't you know? There is a specific area near the island of Antare where the magnetic pull is so powerful that you cannot steer out of it. Father sailed directly into it..."

  "Dear God," Starlin gasped.

  Benton came closer, leaning his shoulder against a wall, seemingly for support. "Father was certain he knew what he was doing. It was terribly strange there, in the eye of the Triangle, with those shifting mists upon the water and the storms that raged and whirled about. Father knew where he was headed—he was the only one who did. Gwen and I became frightened when we entered some sort of luminous, white water. We're here, Father said. Gwen and I just looked at each other. He dropped anchor and was eager to enter notations in the log. The galleon was directly below us, clearly visible on the reefs. I prepared to dive, even though I'd heard the stories of the area. I was afraid, but I didn't want him to know. So I dove—and I saw the ghostly wreck of the galleon looming before me. I had a line tied around me, and I swam toward the ship. Suddenly, the water changed. The temperature was frigid. I was freezing. I turned around to swim back, and it was then I came face to face with the largest barracuda I've ever seen. It was at least six feet long. And he did not wish me in his territory. I surfaced fast, and climbed on board the ship. I explained my reasoning. Father was adamant about staying in the area. We waited awhile, and then Father stated he was going to dive. Gwen and I tried to talk him out of it. He tied the line around himself, and grabbed a spear. Gwen held one end of the line. I was terrified and shivering with a chill I could not seem to disperse." He halted, his face crumbling. "It... was as if we weren't wanted there."