by Rima Jean
I knew he had been unsuccessful, yet again.
“How did it go?” I asked with a hopeful smile.
He rubbed the sweat from the side of his face with his shoulder and shook his head. “They’ll not sign me on, not with this suspicion of piracy hanging about me neck.”
“But you were cleared of those charges!” I cried. “They have no proof–”
“Sabrina, a notorious pirate gave me a prize,” he said. “How do they make sense of that? Particularly when me shipmates claim I was in league with England?” He inhaled sharply. “Nay, I’ve been outlawed.”
I felt the fury rise up within me. What else was a poor sailor to do, when his very livelihood was at stake? Howel Davis had not even been officially charged with piracy, but he couldn’t get a job as a lowly deck hand on a miserable slave-ship. How did the monarchy – or whoever the hell was in charge around here – expect men not to turn to piracy as a means to an end, especially when life as a pirate was so much better?
I looked at him anxiously, and I could tell his thoughts were similar to mine. I said, “There must be someone who will hire you. We have to keep looking.”
“I can’t expect any employment here, in Barbados,” he replied, squinting into the sun. “I’ll have to go to Nassau, the only place for a pardoned brigand to find honest work.”
I looked up. “You’re going to Nassau?”
“I’ve no choice,” he said. Then he smiled wanly. “Works out well, don’t it? You can mayhaps find a way back home.”
I considered. Nassau was where Howel would become a pirate, so I felt the need to talk him out of it. But for me, Nassau was quite convenient, actually. I could visit Ruth, see if maybe she’d had any more visions. I could visit Nan and the girls. Weird – I’d grown somewhat attached to the place, and was relieved to be going back. Of course, the main reason Nassau had grown on me was Edward England, and he would not be there.
But I would have Howel Davis. I would be fine so long as I was with him.
What in God’s name had gotten into me?
We found a merchantman bound for Nassau, and, with the little money Howel had left with Meg for safekeeping, we journeyed as passengers back to New Providence. Howel brooded much of the time, staring out across the sea and whittling pieces of wood with his knife. I, in turn, watched Howel, wishing I could lift the burden from his shoulders. I knew how great the temptation to go on the account must have been for him, and I often wondered what kept him from just giving in. Was he so righteous, so conscientious? Or did my prophecy have anything to do with it, that maybe he wanted to prove fate wrong?
It was hard to know, since he didn’t confide in me. Oh, he was his warm, friendly self with me, jesting and teasing as usual. But he wasn’t letting me in. And it wasn’t for my lack of trying. I tried and tried to bring back that sweet, playful sailor I had first met aboard the Cadogan, but to no avail. I would see the wall come down, the eyes harden. Life had done a number on him, and he wasn’t going to forget it.
It did not pay to be good in this world of kings and slaves, of dog-eat-dog and an eye for an eye.
On the eve of our arrival in Nassau’s harbor, I could not stand it any longer. I approached Howel and, with my arms crossed on my chest, said, “Why aren’t you telling me what you’re thinking? Why don’t you talk to me?”
Howel had been sitting on the deck under the stars, his knees drawn up and his arms slung over them, staring at nothing, a frown on his face. He looked at me in surprise. “How now?” He grinned slightly, his teeth glistening in the moonlight. “What would you have me tell you?”
I sighed, flopping down next to him. “What you’re thinking. Why you look so sad.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you really need me to tell you that?”
“No,” I replied, sounding like a spoiled child used to getting her way. “But you could share your thoughts, tell me what you want, how you feel about what I’ve told you regarding your future.”
I looked straight ahead, but I could feel him next to me, gazing at my profile. After a moment he asked, “Why would you want me to do that? Haven’t you enough to worry about without me worries heaped on you as well?”
I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks. I still didn’t look at him. “But aren’t we friends? Friends support each other.”
“A man and a woman, friends? Mayhaps in 2011 such things are possible, but in 1718, if a man and a woman reveal such confidences, they enter the realm of lovers.”
I felt as though I’d been zapped. Was it just my overactive imagination, or did his voice get lower, huskier as he said the word lovers? Get a grip, Sabrina. You’re a married woman. It took me a second, but I finally said, “No, it’s not so different in 2011. We try and tell ourselves that it’s different, that because men and women are equals, close friendships – without the romance – are possible.”
“Ah,” he said softly. “Then ‘twould be a bad idea, you and me getting too close.”
I still couldn’t look at him. My nerves strummed like guitar strings. I wanted to ask, ‘Why would it be a bad idea? Because I’m married, or because you aren’t attracted to me?’ I finally stole a glance at him, finding that he watched me with interest, the hint of a smile on his mouth. Damn him! He was accustomed to women wanting him. A playboy in 1718 was just like a playboy in 2011. Human nature didn’t change with time. I was suddenly furious. So he thought I wanted him then, and that he was letting me down gently? I’d show him.
Without thinking, the next words out of my mouth were, “It wouldn’t matter. You’re not my type, anyway.”
Howel laughed. It was a gleeful laugh, like that of a naughty boy. It was wonderful to hear him laugh so, with such abandon. He said, “Aye, I don’t doubt it. A sailor with no berth and no money at all, and a criminal record to boot.”
“It has nothing to do with that,” I said quickly.
“Oh,” he said, his expression puckish. “I see. You’ve a dislike for me personage, is that it? You prefer the stockier, lighter-haired gentlemen. A man more like…. Edward England.”
“Edward England?” I repeated incredulously. “What…”
“‘Tis best,” he said, waving his hand glibly, “as I prefer the more buxom, golden-haired maidens meself.”
I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, and he stared back, those blue eyes taunting me. He was trying to get a rise out of me, the jerk! I bit my tongue, forcing myself to look away. Don’t take the bait, Sabrina. I said as calmly as I could muster, “Good. Then let’s just pretend I’m the boy Will. Can you do that?”
“Aye,” he replied, sniffing and looking back out into the horizon. “ ‘Tis settled, then.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I leaned out into the wind, watching as we approached New Providence. I longed to pull off my brimmed hat, set my hair free in the gusts of salty air. I couldn’t do it, for I would look far too much like a woman. Too bad – I would have liked to remind Howel of what I was.
As we entered Nassau harbor, I saw the changes Woodes Rogers had made on the pirate haven: Much of the foliage had been cleared from the town, and the beaches had been rid of the pirate camps; the fort was being repaired, the Union Jack flying overhead; and four Royal Navy vessels, their guns clearly visible, guarded the emerald waters of New Providence.
Walking into the town itself was a strange experience – the carefree, idle ambience of the place had been replaced with a buzzing tension, as if the wildness had been barely restrained and was on the verge of bursting free. To my relief, Nan’s bawdy house was still there, and still very much a seedy place. I told Howel to meet me there after he’d finished looking for work, and he agreed.
I was greeted as boisterously by Nan and her girls as Howel had been by the women of the Black Dog Inn – minus the sexual tension, of course. They squealed and threw their arms around me, talking all at once, asking questions in rapid succession. They hurried me
to a chair and brought me some rum, sitting around me, their eyes bright with excitement, waiting to hear my story. So I told them everything, forgetting that they may not have known I was from the future, not caring if I sounded crazy. These women, prostitutes though they were, were far more willing to accept me and my fantastical origins than any of the men of 1718 had been. Perhaps it was their lack of education, their inclination to believe in magic; or maybe it was that they were, on some level, freer spirits than everyone else. They clasped their hands and gasped as I told them how I shot myself, about the Cadogan and Howel Davis, about the slaves and the mutiny, about the threats from Jack Blaine.
Nel piped up, “Sabrina, what will you do, then?”
I sighed, “I don’t know. I would like to visit Ruth… Is she still here?”
Nan nodded. “Aye, she’s here. The same.” Then something maternal crossed her face – strange, since Nan couldn’t have been more than ten years older than me – and she asked, “So what of this Howel Davis? You speak of him as though he were something special.”
The girls looked at Nan, then at me, and I couldn’t help it: blood rushed to my face. There was no hiding this reaction from prostitutes, for goodness sake. They began whistling and hooting and clapping their hands. “She’s sweet on ‘im, she is!” they cried gleefully.
I covered my face. “Please, he can’t know… I would die…”
“Ye’ve no need to worry, lass,” Nan reassured me. She shot her girls a look. “We’ll keep our mouths shut.” Then she looked anxiously at me. “And what will you do about ‘im, this noble sailor? Here in Nassau… The pirates still be fighting. He’d be hard pressed not to join ‘em.”
I nodded slowly. “I know.”
She shook her head. “You play a dangerous game, my puss. Letting your heart belong to a sailor so… completely.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Except, maybe, letting your heart belong to a pirate.
When Howel arrived, looking about him curiously, I noticed the change in his face immediately – there was a heightened color to his cheeks, a luster to his eyes. I grinned widely at him. “You found something.”
He grinned back. “Aye. ‘Pon my soul, me past is spotless compared to these poor bastards! Real rovers, some o’them. Like your Cap’n England.”
I skipped over to him, delighted. I wanted to hug him, but thought better of it, and at the last moment, held my hand up in a “high five.” Howel raised his eyebrows at me in puzzlement, and I quickly lowered my hand and cleared my throat. “Howel Davis, these are my friends…” I turned to Nan and the girls, who were watching the proceedings with avid interest, like a group of housewives watching a soap opera.
“Ladies, at your service,” Howel said with utter panache, sweeping off his hat and bowing deeply.
The girls giggled and batted their eyelashes at him, clearly surprised by his good looks and chivalrous greeting. Yes, Howel Davis was, without a doubt, a ladies’ man. I felt the green-eyed monster within me stir. I changed the subject quickly. “So tell me the details about this job.”
“‘Tis aboard the sloop-o’-war, the Buck,” he replied. “Woodes Rogers intends to send her and another sloop, the Mumvil Trader, to exchange goods with the French and Spaniards in Martinico and Cuba. The lading’s valuable, I hear. Rogers hired mostly pardoned pirates. I’ll be just a regular hand, but ‘tis better than nothing.”
“They’ll be needing boys, too, won’t they?” I asked excitedly. “I could go over this afternoon – “
“Sabrina,” Howel said, his smile fading. “‘Tis not a good idea, this. You should stay here, with your friends, and see if you can get back to your family.”
Oh, no. It was my experience with Edward England all over again. I said, “But you agreed… back in Barbados… You said I could come with you.”
Howel scratched his head. “Sabrina, it makes little sense. To risk your life, your future… I’ve no choice. But you? You still have a chance.” He smiled. “Your fate ain’t set in stone.”
“We don’t know that yours is either,” I said through gritted teeth.
Howel placed his hat back on his head, his expression grim. “The sloops leave in two days. I’ve met a fellow from Wapping, one Walter Kennedy, and a few other sailors who’ve offered me boarding with them at an inn. I’ll be staying with them.”
Oh my God. Was he saying good-bye? I studied his face intently as Nan and the girls moved away, pretending not listen, but fully aware of the situation. He avoided my gaze intentionally, pressing his lips together. I said, “You need me.” He looked at me suddenly, surprised. I flushed, felt the need to rephrase. “I mean, I can be an asset to you. I know so much about the future in general. Maybe not specifics, but I can help you…” I trailed off. Jesus, I was turning into one of those chicks I scorned, following a man around like a loyal puppy, hoping he’d realize he was in love with me. Pathetic. He’s just not that into you, dumbass.
I could clearly see regret in his eyes. He looked around to make sure that the girls had made themselves scarce, then said in a low voice, “Sabrina…” I loved hearing him say my name in that Welsh accent, the way he rolled the “r” and made it sound like a song. He swallowed, and I watched his adam’s apple slide up and down his throat. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this, whatever “this” was. Nervous? Sad? He continued, “It’s no good. I promised England I’d make sure you’re safe before I set sail again. I’d not be keeping my promise by taking you aboard a sloop packed with former rovers, that’s for sure. I’d worry about you every second, and I’ve meself to worry about. You’re safe here, you have friends here.” He smiled dimly. “Even if you never go back to your husband and child, I’m certain England will send for you, if not come back for you himself.”
I blinked. I said automatically, “England? Why do you keep bringing England into this?”
“Why indeed?” Howel replied, rolling his eyes to look at the ceiling.
“Howel,” I said urgently. “Howel, don’t give in to the temptation to turn pirate. Please. And whatever you do, never, ever set foot on Prince Island. It’ll mean certain death for you…”
Howel smiled slightly, his eyes crinkled at their corners. “No worries, lass. I’ve no intention to go a-roving. And I certainly ain’t going to the place o’ me death.” He paused, and for a moment we simply looked at each other. Then he said, “I must go now.” He quickly took my hand and brought my fingers to his lips, looking at me as he did so. He may as well have set me on fire. He said, “I fare you well, my pretty little lad.” He hesitated for a moment – just a moment – then he turned, adjusted his hat so it sat lower over his face, and walked out the door.
I stared after him until Nan gently patted my back and said,“’Tis for the best, lass…”
I spun around to look at her, perplexed. “What are you talking about? I need someone to take me to the Mumvil Trader. Now.” I laughed harshly. “He doesn’t have to know, but there’s no way in hell he’s leaving me behind.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thankfully, it was not difficult, getting signed to work aboard the Mumvil Trader as a cabin boy. I happened to know quite a bit about seafaring at this point, and showed off my knowledge with a flourish. Either because the first mate was impressed, or maybe because he wanted to shut me up, he gave me the job.
As I walked through Nassau, I felt a thrill surge through me. I would not be on the same ship as Howel, but I would be with him. He didn’t want me, but I had a mission, and that mission was nothing less than preventing the man I loved from dying. Before I left New Providence, however, there was one more thing I had to do.
I found Ruth in her hut, sitting in that dark, smoky corner. I wondered, for a second, if she had even moved since I’d seen her last. “Ruth?” I said. “It’s me, Sabrina.”
Ruth stared at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. Unlike the first time, she was not surprised to see me today. As if she had been expecting me at that very moment
. I blinked, my eyes tearing and my nose burning from the powerful scent of spice as she stood and murmured something in her native language. She turned her back to me, going about her business, and said, “I have been waiting for you.”
God, this chick made me nervous. “I see that,” I replied. “Uh, so… How have you been?”
Ruth turned to me abruptly, her good eye flashing, her scar livid. Clearly, there was going to be no small-talk with her. “The spirits favor you, Sabrina,” she said.
“Ha,” I said dryly. “That’s funny. Because I thought they were pissed at me.”
Ruth didn’t crack a smile, her dark face fixated on mine. I felt the flesh on my arms crawl as her eyes glazed over and she went somewhere far, far away. It must have gotten several degrees cooler in the small, dark hut, and I swore I felt a breeze, even though there wasn’t a window or a door open. The urge to run out struck me, but before I could act on it Ruth said, “You can go back… one who got here like you, he know how… he… black pirate…”
I was afraid to speak, to break her trance, but no fewer than a hundred questions popped into my head. I felt nauseous, dumbstruck. A way back? One who got here the same way I did?
A black pirate, who got here the same way I did, knew the way back.
Holy shit.
Then Ruth looked at me, finally seeing me. The air grew warmer, her eyelids drooped. She turned back to what she’d been doing before going into her trance. “You want coffee? I put rum in it.”
“No,” I said, shaken. “Ruth… What you just told me… Who is this black pirate?”
She shrugged, stirred the dark liquid, presumably rum-spiked coffee, in her mug. No wonder she was having visions – that was one serious drink. “Not know,” she replied simply.
“Is he from the future?”
“Not know.”
Oh, Christ. The trance was over, and I wouldn’t be able to get another word out of her. I flopped down on a stool, cradling my head in my hands and groaning. “God, Ruth, tell me more! Please! How do I find him?”
