How To Please a Pirate

by Mia Marlowe

  As he was led out into the autumn sunshine, he experienced a strange sense of well-being, a lightness of spirit that he surprised him. He stepped up into the ox cart that would bear him to Execution Dock, feeling oddly thankful that it wasn’t raining. If a man had to die, why not die on one of those rare bright days when the world was fresh and bright and full of promise?

  The cart rattled away from Newgate, squeezing through the twisting lanes and past the Tower. It must have rained in the night. Puddles collected in some of the sunken cobbles shimmering on the old streets like pools of liquid silver. Why had he never noticed how astonishingly beautiful everything was?

  Crowds were beginning to follow him. A few jeered. One or two bowed their heads in prayer for his mortal soul. A little boy hurled a rotten cabbage at him. It struck him squarely on the chest, leaving a patch of muck on Gabe’s brocade waistcoat. Gabriel smiled at the lad.

  “Well thrown,” he called.

  “Thanks, mate,” the urchin replied, hefting a second cabbage and then deciding against it.

  Gabriel had faced death before, in countless skirmishes and battles and hadn’t flinched. But when the pirates fished him from the deep and gave him a choice, he’d been afraid to choose death. Now that the choice was made for him, he felt only calm resignation.

  And more than a little curiosity. If, as Shakespeare said, death was the “undiscovered country,” he would look upon this day as the start of a new adventure. Despite what he’d told Lyn, he did talk with the priest and was assured that his sins, though they were many, were forgiven. Gabriel wondered if his father would be there to greet him when he stepped through death’s portal.

  The oxcart turned a sharp corner and the gallows of Execution Dock came into view.

  Please, God, he prayed for the first time in years, let me not arrive in that strange new land with shite on my breeches.

  There were hundreds of people jostling on the wharf. He could hear dozens of conversations going on around him, all sharp and distinct. He grasped the rough wood of the oxcart’s rails and felt each splintered indentation in the grain. All his senses were on high alert as he looked out over the crowd who’d come to see him hang. He almost expected to smell the color of the harlot’s red dress as she shoved her way to the front for a better view or the muddy brown smock and apron of the tanner’s apprentice who’d enterprisingly climbed a flag pole.

  The gallows at Wapping’s Execution Dock were built low on the bank of the Thames, so that once a prisoner was hung at low tide, his body might be covered over by the prescribed three tides as a warning to others. Gabriel descended the stairs to the dock and mounted the scaffold without assistance. To please the crowd, Gabriel turned to the hangman and made a leg to him, as elegantly as possible for one whose hands were bound. The executioner nodded a silent acknowledgement behind his bizarre leather mask. The gathering cheered Gabriel’s bravado.

  He gave the same obeisance to the stoop-shouldered official who regarded him through a raised lorgnette. When Gabriel passed the hooded priest, he was surprised to hear the man whisper, “Courage,” instead of intoning a blessing.

  The official wheezed through a lengthy recitation of Gabriel’s crimes. Flashes of his life scrolled past his vision, the blue-green water of the Caribbean as vivid and fresh as if he were actually there again. The official droned on and the crowd began shifting restlessly, emitting a low growl of warning not to try its patience indefinitely.

  Wind whipped up a whiff of the Thames, a brackish stink of dying shellfish laced with tar. Gabriel shut out the vision of that sludgy water washing over his corpse. Instead, he conjured Lyn.

  He had no regrets, save her. He should have married her in Cornwall, taken her against her will if necessary and Devil take the rest. But he’d never have made her happy that way and with a start, he realized that making her happy was more important to him than anything. Even his life. So he couldn’t have done anything differently and the thought gave him a certain amount of peace.

  Suddenly, the official and the crowd fell silent and he realized he was expected to speak.

  “Of the crimes listed, I am guilty,” Gabriel said, his voice ringing against the row of buildings that hugged the waterfront. Onlookers even leaned from the second storey windows. “And of sins unlisted, I am also guilty. So I go to a just punishment without resentment. Of my life, I will say only that I was blessed to have loved once and loved well. My one regret is that I was unable to love long.”

  The crowd chuckled at his attempt at gallows humor. He noticed one wag scribbling furiously on a portable writing desk. Gabriel’s death speech would find its way into one of London’s ubiquitous tabloids.

  He didn’t have time to wonder if the speech would be judged good or not, for his attention was riveted to the hangman. The noose was slipped around Gabe’s neck and the knot by his left ear cinched tight. Gabriel took a deep breath.

  Any moment now.

  “Gold,” someone shouted. “Gorblimey! It’s rainin’ gold!”

  The crowd turned as one and over their heads, Gabe saw a shower of glittering coins tumble from the upstairs windows of one of the houses by the wharf. He caught a glimpse of someone who looked like Lyn leaning out the window, a bright smile pasted on her lips as she shoveled more gold onto the crowd. And was that Hyacinth and Daisy beside her? Mrs. Beadle, the twins and Lily were dumping treasure from the other window as quickly as they could.

  I’m seeing things, Gabriel thought as the trap door opened beneath his feet and the noose cut off his wind. The rope bit his neck. No one was even looking his way now as he frog-kicked the air beneath his feet, hoping in vain for something to push up on. As he twisted, he saw that the guards who’d accompanied him in the oxcart from Newgate had deserted their posts. Even the hangman and the official were edging away, eager to join the crowd scooping up doubloons. He was going to die utterly alone.

  Except for the priest. The holy man threw back his hood and as Gabe’s vision tunneled, he looked into the eyes of his favorite uncle. Eustace whipped out a dirk and sliced the rope. Gabriel dropped a mere two feet and landed in the squishy muck of low tide.

  “Come on, man,” Eustace said, reaching a hand down to haul Gabriel back up onto the scaffold. “Before they run out of coin.”

  Even though his hands were still bound before him, Gabriel ripped the noose from his neck and dragged in a lungful of air. The stink of London never smelled so sweet. Eustace grabbed him and together, they splashed into the brackish water of the Thames.

  “You save me from hanging to drown me, uncle?” Gabe said when they reached deeper water. Then a punt pulled alongside with Meriwether at the oars.

  “I give ye leave to come aboard, Cap’n.”

  Gabe and Eustace hauled themselves over the side of the shallow drafting craft just as the crowd ashore realized they’d missed something. Hurrying back to the edge of Execution Dock, the mob roared like a feral animal robbed of its prey.

  “Better let me row,” Gabe said, holding out his hands so Eustace could free them.

  “Naw, even you ain’t fast enough,” Meri said, pointing to the small flotilla of boats being launched and headed their way.

  Gabriel fingered the rope burns on his neck. Now that he’d had a taste of Madam Gallows’ embrace, he was not eager to return willingly. “What now?”

  “Hold fast,” Meri warned as Gabe saw the Revenge nose its way around a bend in the river. A long cable, submerged in the brown muck of the Thames, now rose dripping from the water suspended between the prow of Meri’s punt and running up to the Revenge’s windlass. The punt jerked forward, stopped, then nearly lifted from the water, shooting over the surface as the Revenge reeled in the small craft like a harpooned whale. They left the officials’ vessels bobbing in their wake.

  Once they were near enough, Gabe, Meri and Eustace climbed up the lowered rope ladder and stepped gratefully onto the deck of Gabe’s old pirate ship.

  “Permission to come aboard?” Gabr
iel asked belatedly of the new captain, Helmsby.

  “Granted,” his old shipmate said. “And I surrender the vessel to ye as well, Cap’n. Welcome ‘ome.”

  The crew cheered him roundly, but he pressed himself to the rail, watching Execution Dock grow smaller as the Revenge prepared to come about to sail out to sea.

  “What of Jacquelyn and the children?” he asked Meri.

  “Oh, the womenfolk will make their way back to Cornwall and we’ll pick ‘em up there. Though I don’t reckon it’ll be a pleasant trip. Them nieces o’ yers aren’t ones to suffer in silence,” Meriwether said. “We figure to load up the rest o’ the treasure then. Mistress Jacquelyn promised it to the crew for their help in yer rescue, ye see.”

  The only thing Gabriel could see was a long phalanx of Beefeaters marching along the riverside from the Tower toward Wapping.

  Toward Lyn.

  Then he saw two women and a gaggle of children being prodded into the oxcart that had drawn him from Newgate. The guards held back the crowd, but the mob surged around the cart. With their blood-lust cheated, they’d be in an ugly mood.

  “Make sail!” Helmsby bellowed.

  “Belay that,” Gabriel said. “Lower the boat. I have to go back.”

  Chapter 36

  For the first time in Gabriel’s command, his crew mutinied. Instead of lowering the jollyboat as ordered, they sailed the Revenge further up the Thames, risking running aground until the tide rushed back into the waterway. They hoisted both the Jolly Roger and a red flag, signaling that they would give no quarter. Only once they had their guns trained on the Beefeaters swarming Execution Dock, did they consent to lower the boat for Gabriel to return to land under a flag of truce.

  “If the worst should happen, run before the wind and get the ship out of here,” Gabriel told Helmsby before he went over the side.

  “If the worst should ‘appen, rest assured we’ll be in the thick of it, Cap’n,” Helmsby said. “We ain’t enjoyin’ bein’ respectable all that much in any case. Remember the Code. Die all, die merrily.”

  Gabriel and Meriwether rowed back to the dock and stopped a few feet from the pilings. Lyn and Mrs. B. held his nieces close in the back of the oxcart, trying to shield them but unequal to the task. Cecil Oddbody, flanked by the stiff-ruffed Beefeaters, stood before the cart that held all the treasure Gabriel valued in this world. Once the Revenge’s guns rolled out of the gun ports, the crowd had fallen back, but they still hovered in the fringes intent on the drama being played out before them. This was undoubtedly the best hanging of the season even if no one had their neck stretched yet.

  “Well, Drake,” Oddbody said. “Looks like you’ll dance the hempen jig this day after all.”

  “Only if you’re disposed to negotiate the release of the women and children you’re unlawfully holding,” Gabriel said.

  Meri cocked his pistol and balanced it across his forearm. “I think I can drop ‘im if ye wish it, Cap’n.”

  Oddbody reached into the cart and pulled out a squealing Lily to hold before him as a shield.

  “No, no, don’t take her.” Jacquelyn reached after the child, but Oddbody wouldn’t release her.

  But Lily wasn’t willing to go without a fight. She squirmed and kicked and finally clamped her little teeth down on Oddbody’s arm. He gave a girlish scream and released her. Lily ran toward Gabriel, made a running leap off the end of the dock and into her uncle’s arms. He caught her and deposited her beside Meri where she burst into tears.

  “I had to bite him, Meri,” she said between wails. “Don’t let Mrs. B. tan my bum.”

  “Don’t ye fret, missy,” Meri assured her without lowering his pistol. “I’ll square things with Mrs. B.”

  “Well, at least we know what you are, Oddbody,” Gabriel said. “Any man who hides behind a little girl is the most pitiful coward alive.”

  The crowd jeered, hissing at Sir Cecil. The scowls on some of the Beefeaters’ faces said they agreed, but they kept their muskets trained on the oxcart.

  “These women and children may look like innocents, but they were caught red-handed aiding and abetting the escape of a convicted pirate,” Oddbody said, trying to rally support. “They’ll be duly executed for their crimes.”

  “And yet, you won’t be able to hang me,” Gabriel said. “And while I live, I’m still Lord of Dragon Caern. You won’t be able to get your thieving hands on my barony, unless I allow it.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “Release them now,” Gabriel said as he rowed the boat closer to the dock and slipped a rope over one of the posts. “Let them get into the boat with Mr. Meriwether, and you may have me.”

  “And watch you all sail away? I think not.”

  “I give you my word.”

  “The word of a pirate.” Sir Cecil spat the words.

  Gabriel stepped onto the dock and made a graceful leg. “No, the word of a gentleman. A bond, I believe, you are not able to return.”

  The crowd cheered.

  Sensing the momentum shifting, Oddbody relented. “Very well. Release the prisoners.”

  Mrs. B and Jacquelyn shepherded the girls into the waiting boat. Gabriel wished he could take a moment to speak to Lyn, but he felt he must stand at the ready, glaring at Oddbody to keep the man from changing his mind. Then at the last moment, Jacquelyn untied the boat and gave it a shove. Meri started rowing.

  “Lyn, get in the boat,” Gabriel ordered.

  “No, I won’t leave you again.”

  “You’ll die here.”

  “Die all, die merrily.” She shot him a quick smile and slipped her hand in his. They turned together to face Oddbody and his guards. He squeezed her hand, knowing he didn’t deserve the love of such a woman, but grateful beyond words for it.

  The crowd fell to hushed expectancy. This little drama had more turns and twists than a play at the Rose.

  “Seize them,” Sir Cecil screamed.

  But before the guards could follow his command, a coach rattled into the dock area, the crowds making way for it like the Red Sea parting before Moses. The glittering crest of the Elector of Hanover was emblazoned on the side of the grand conveyance. When the matched quartet of white horses were reigned to a halt and a footman leaped down to open the door, King George himself stepped majestically from the coach, followed by . . . Isabella Wren.

  The crowd, the Beefeaters, Jacquelyn and Gabriel, even Oddbody, fell to their knees in deep curtseys and bows, not rising until they heard His Majesty speak.

  Of course, it was in German since King George spoke no English, but they all assumed they’d been given permission to rise.

  The king spoke again and Isabella answered him in flawless Deutsch. His Majesty cast an assessing glance at Gabriel and then turned back to Oddbody.

  “His Royal Highness wishes to know why you are trying to hang a man who did him the service of rescuing his royal cousin from French pirates?” Isabella translated.

  “Be that as it may, sire,” Sir Cecil said with a wheedling tone. “This man has violated the terms of his pardon by appearing in London.”

  Isabella relayed this information. “The king did not consent to any such restriction. When our gracious Sovereign pardons a man, he remains pardoned. You have overstepped your authority, Sir Cecil.” She swept toward the courtier and held out her hand. “The King orders you to surrender his Privy Seal immediately.”

  Visibly shaken, Oddbody complied, placing the heavy signet ring in the center of Isabella’s palm.

  The king leaped into the fray, gesticulating wildly to the Beefeaters and then pointing to Oddbody. It was so clearly an order for his arrest, no interpreter was needed. The captain of the Beefeaters took obvious delight in manacling Cecil to the oxcart and driving it away with Oddbody forced to trot along behind it lest he be dragged to Newgate Prison.

  The crowd jeered its contempt for Oddbody and found good use for the rotten vegetables it had decided not to toss at Gabriel.

  King
George turned his piercing dark eyes on Jacquelyn and strode over to inspect her, lifting her chin with one finger.

  “Isabella, meine Liebe. Ist diese meine Tochter?”

  “Ja, deine Majestät, ist sie.” Isabella smiled at Jacquelyn and Gabriel realized the truth. Lyn’s unknown father wasn’t some unnamed courtier, after all.

  “Majesty,” Gabriel said. “I am under royal orders to marry only a woman of noble birth in order to advance the line of fathers. However, I find this woman,” he cast a loving look at Lyn, “who cannot claim noble blood, is the only one I want. We have already been secretly wed. May I beg your indulgence in this matter?”

  Isabella relayed his message and the king spoke at length.

  “His Majesty says that sometimes one is obligated to wed outside the dictates of one’s heart,” Isabella said, a real blush kissing her cheeks. “But in your case, Lord Drake, he sees no such impediment. The edict requiring nobility in your future wife was another of Oddbody’s overreaching orders. However, rest assured, the lady you have wed has the noblest of blood.”

  The king spoke again.

  “His Majesty is not surprised that even without his favor, you have done as your heart inclines you, but he forgives your impulsiveness,” Isabella related. “And now, he orders you to get that bloody pirate ship out of his harbor, before you have another impulse or he’ll change his royal mind.”

  Epilogue

  “Is it normal for it to take this long?” Gabriel asked as he made his tenth circuit of the solar.

  “Ye’re asking the wrong person,” Meri said. “But don’t ye fret, me wee Hagitha will see yer babe into the world safe and sound. Here, have another dram. Best whisky I ever tasted. Who knew Curtmantle had such a good collection of spirits?”

  Once Cecil Oddbody was pressed, he informed the Crown that Baron Curtmantle was his minion in the plot to relieve Gabriel of his barony. In fact, Lord Curtmantle was accused of engineering the death of Rhys Drake in what was supposed a hunting accident. So King George saw fit to relieve Hugh Curtmantle of his lands and title. He declared Curtmantle’s barony extinct and ordered Hugh and Catherine transported to the Colonies to labor as indentured servants for the rest of their sad lives.