Silver Tears

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  “I don’t like being a party to this,” Hargrave said.

  “Soon you’ll be out of it,” she replied coolly. “The moment Christopher Gunn greets me, your responsibilities will end.”

  The sailors moved about the ship’s small deck, preparing to ease the vessel past the rocky offshore islands and into the sheltered bay. Neither Alice nor Jonathan Hargrave noticed, however.

  Hargrave, who had held his tongue for many leagues as they crossed the rough seas, could take it no longer. Now the words burst from his lips. “What do you know about this Christopher Gunn, milady? How can you even consider marrying him?”

  Alice took a step back as if he’d struck her a blow. “I beg your pardon! I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”

  He put out a hand to steady her as the ship’s bow plowed through a swell. “You are my concern until I discharge you on that wild shore yonder. And, by God, I’ll not see an innocent… lovely woman left to her own devices among heathens.”

  “I won’t be alone, Captain, and Christopher Gunn, from what I know of him, could hardly be considered a heathen.”

  “Did your husband tell you everything about Gunn? Did he warn you?”

  Alice couldn’t imagine what the man was talking about. Yes, she knew about Christopher Gunn—he was a tall, incredibly handsome Scotsman, from what she remembered, having seen him that one time years ago. She knew he was the only son of one of her late husband’s friends. According to Lord Geoffrey, he had been a restless young man, “a ship without a sail—but he’ll do great things one day,” her husband had said. Alice told the captain all this, then added, “My late husband assured me that he had written to Mr. Gunn and that all was arranged for our marriage. If you are truly concerned, I have a letter of introduction to Mr. Gunn, along with a deed to my colonial holdings in my cabin.”

  “Aye,” the captain answered, skepticism dripping from the single syllable. “I’ll take your word for all that. However, Lord Balfour neglected to tell you the rest of Gunn’s story, I’ll wager.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Obviously. Lord Balfour knew—he must have. What could he have been thinking, handing you over to such a man?”

  Alice was beginning to feel a trembling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more of what Captain Hargrave had to say. “You know Christopher Gunn?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Aye, know and detest him, I do. Scoundrel, blackguard, and a few other names I won’t mention in a lady’s presence. We were shipmates once, even friends for a time. But no more. We both set our caps for a pretty maid in a foreign port. She chose Gunn over me. I challenged him. He laughed in my face, shaming me in front of her. But ’twas I who had the last laugh when we sailed away and he left her there on the dock. Have you any inkling why he’s off in this godforsaken place, a man of his intelligence and education?”

  Alice shrugged. She had wondered, but she refused to admit that to the outspoken captain, who was obviously trying to get even with Gunn for their past differences.

  “I’ll tell you why he’s here.”

  “Somehow I knew you would.”

  “Gunn has a special talent,” the irate man continued, “a talent with ladies. He might have married and settled down to a gentleman’s life back in England. There’s talk that more than one well-dowered young woman of noble family had her eye on him a few years back. But, no, Chris Gunn wanted none of this settling down to home and hearth. Proper young ladies bored him, he told me once as we sat drinking together late one night in a dockside tavern. He was fond of the chippies of White-chapel, but his main passion ran to other men’s wives. Noblemen’s wives, at that.”

  A soft gasp escaped Alice’s rosy lips. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, be that as it may, it’s high time someone spoke the plain truth of the matter to you. Gunn ran off here to the wilds of Maine to escape not one, but several angry husbands.”

  Alice turned quickly away. “I believe I’ll go below now and see that Pegeen has finished the packing.”

  “Fine by me, milady. But think hard on what you’re doing before it’s too late.”

  She hesitated, furious that Captain Hargrave dared to utter such foul lies about the man she meant to marry. She longed to strike back.

  “Is that all?” she asked. “Well, it seems I’ll be getting the better end of the bargain. Apparently, although you know all about my intended, you’ve heard nothing of my own sordid past.”

  He only stared at her, silenced by this unexpected outburst.

  “Lord Balfour was not only my husband, but my savior as well. I’d be long since hanged had it not been for his kindness. You see, I’m a witch! The ‘bitch witch,’ they called me. A little child whose mother passed the evil black arts on to her, so the story goes. But for Lord Balfour’s intervention, I’d have died on the gallows alongside my mother years ago.” She smiled when she saw the strong man’s face pale at her words. Although she knew she should keep her past to herself, she believed she’d be safe in Maine. Besides, the smug captain needed a good shock to shut him up. “Take care, Captain. Christopher Gunn knows the risks involved. However, should you speak ill of him again, my powerful magic might strike you dead on the spot.”

  Hargrave remained silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t believe in witches. Even if there were such, there’s no way in heaven or hell you could be one of the coven. You are far too gentle, too beautiful, milady.”

  Alice was taken aback by his words and by the softness of his voice. He spoke in a kinder tone than she’d ever heard from him. When he reached out to touch her arm, their eyes met for an instant. She felt an unexpected warmth flowing from him.

  “I’ve made you angry and for that I’m sorry, but I felt it my duty to say what I did. You need a good man, a settled man,” he added in a gruff whisper. “Should you change your mind, I offer myself. It’s time I gave up the sea. We could have a fine life together. I’ve put by enough to support you in high style. You’d want for nothing. What say you, Lady Alice?” he pleaded gently.

  Alice was dumbstruck. She could find no response for the unexpected proposal. Of course, she couldn’t marry the man; her plans were made, plans that would keep an ocean between her and the witch hunters who still longed to see her dance at the end of a rope. Still, she was warmed by the rough captain’s words. She’d thought him a man without a heart. Now she realized he was instead a steady fellow of deep emotions that he kept to himself. He was a good man, a kind man, but not the man for her.

  “I’m touched, Captain,” she answered modestly, sincerely. Then she looked up at him, smiling into his dark, sad eyes. “You really don’t want a witch for a wife, do you?”

  “Lady Alice, were you the sister of Lucifer himself, I would still beg for your hand. Witch or no, I want you for my wife.”

  The two of them stood, frozen in the unexpected emotion of that instant. The fog had moved in once more so that even the far corners of the deck were obscured. The sailors moving about were only dull shapes in the dense blanket of mist. From somewhere in the distance came a popping, hissing noise that Alice could not identify. The eerie sound sent a chill through her.

  “Captain Hargrave, I’m honored, but—”

  Suddenly the man’s whole body jolted. His face before hers contorted in an expression of shock. Alice stared up, confused, as she saw his sharp eyes dull. His mouth sagged open and he slumped forward into her arms. As her trembling hands clutched his back, the warm stickiness of his blood soaked through her thin gloves. Her scream was lost in the roar of cannon fire.

  “Heave to!” came a frantic cry from above. “We’re under attack! Pirates, damn their eyes!”

  Confusion reigned on the deck of the tiny ship. Alice crouched low on the boards, cradling the captain’s head in her lap. She was too horrified by what had happened to take note of the battle raging around her,
the Flemish seadogs heaving themselves over the ship’s rail to wage hand-to-hand combat with Hargrave’s men. Only moments before she had threatened that Jonathan Hargrave might be struck dead by some magic she didn’t even believe in. Now here he lay, gravely wounded. Her blood ran cold, and it seemed that through the fog and gun-smoke and shouts filling the air she could hear the creak of gallows far off in the distance.

  She rocked back and forth, eyes dry, but with a keening moan swelling in her throat. “What have I done? Oh, Mummie, what have I done?”

  Rough hands gripped her shoulders, dragging her up from the deck. “Well, bless my bones, what have we here?” a gruff voice asked.

  Alice fought against the burly, blond pirate, struggling to escape his grasp, but she was no match for the powerful Dutchman. He held her securely with one arm while his other hand roamed inside her cloak, exploring first the soft fur lining of her cape and then the tight velvet of her bodice. Alice caught her breath as his fingers tugged at the fabric. A moment later, his hand still at her breast, he pulled her to his chest, seeking a kiss in the midst of the battle.

  Forcing a calm she didn’t feel, Alice pretended to comply with his wishes. At the last instant before his lips covered hers, she turned quickly away and sank her teeth into his earlobe. With a howl of pain the man released her. When he did, she brought her knee up sharply, doubling him over, making him forget all about his injured ear.

  “I wish I were a witch!” she shrieked at him. “I’d turn you into the rutting swine you are.”

  Out of the fog and smoke and smell of blood came a low, rumbling laugh. Alice glanced about. Another of them was approaching. This pirate was a giant of a man with a fierce, mahogany-colored beard and long hair of the same hue and disarray. He was dressed in tight leggings and a mantle of animal skins draped his shoulders. A bloodied saber swung from the wide belt about his waist.

  Alice’s heart all but stopped at the sight of him. Gathering her wits about her, she grabbed a belaying pin and crouched for attack. “Don’t you come near me,” she warned. “I’ll… I’ll…”

  Quick as a striking snake, the man’s huge hand shot out, wresting the club from her trembling fingers.

  Alice’s shrill scream of terror echoed in her own ears. “Leave me be, you bloody bastard!”

  “That weapon’s of no use to you now,” her would-be attacker said quietly. “The battle’s over. Those murdering Flemish dogs are running for shelter in New Amsterdam’s harbor with their tails between their legs.”

  She stared up at the man, trying to make herself believe that he was not one of the pirates, but a friend instead. The truth took several moments to sink in.

  “They killed Captain Hargrave.” Still uppermost in Alice’s mind was her casual threat and the coincidence of the poor man’s death. Or was it coincidence?

  “Along with several others, I’m sorry to say,” the fearsome stranger added. “You’re still alive, though, and safe for the moment. Come along now. There’s a fire astern. Time we were both getting to steadier ground.”

  When he grasped her arm to hurry her to the ladder at the ship’s midsection, Alice shook off his grip.

  “No, I won’t go!” she cried. “My maid, Pegeen—she’s still in our cabin. She’ll guard my belongings with her life, refusing to save herself. I won’t leave without her.”

  She turned to dash toward her cabin, but the big man caught her about the waist to stop her flight. For a moment he held her at arm’s length as she struggled against him. Alice saw a flash of anger and amusement mingle in his deep-set green eyes. His full lips curved in a malevolent smile.

  “My men can take care of your Pegeen and Hargrave here, too. Regardless of your wishes, I don’t plan to go down with this sinking tub.”

  Before Alice could react, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. She gasped and sputtered, half-smothered in his foul-smelling furs.

  “Let me down!” she screamed at him, but he only laughed at her protests.

  “Like it or not, I’m going to save your lovely hide. Women are far too scarce in these parts to lose one that’s firmly in my grasp.”

  “Pegeen!” Alice yelled, desperately afraid for her young serving girl.

  “Stop your bawling, woman. Your girl will be fine. I’ve got to get you safely to a boat.”

  Ten minutes later Alice sat in a whaleboat some distance from the flaming ship, watching as the wounded and dead were hauled down in canvas slings from the deck. She was still dazed from what had happened on board, but worse than that, her pride was badly bruised from the rough handling she’d received from pirate and rescuer alike.

  “Just you wait,” she said under her breath, wishing she had the courage to say the words to the rude giant’s face. “When I tell Christopher Gunn how ill I’ve been used, he’ll challenge you, you great beast.”

  In spite of her anger, Alice watched with relief as her rescuer and four other men off-loaded the sobbing Pegeen and then her belongings—silver, tapestries, linens, her four trunks of clothes, and the precious jewel box that contained her deed to the Norumbega tracts. Some of her tension melted away. She would go to her new husband a well-dowered bride in spite of all that had happened.

  A short time later the other boat pulled alongside, carrying the man who had saved her. He leaned over the gunwale. His fierce face came so close to Alice’s that she could see that his red beard was now singed and his flesh streaked with soot.

  “Dammit, woman!” he seethed. “Do you expect to furnish a castle in these parts?”

  “No,” Alice replied quietly. “Not here, but in Norumbega.”

  The men in the two boats exchanged glances and chuckled among themselves. Alice refused to be daunted by their laughter. It seemed they thought a woman incapable of finding the place for herself, she thought. Well, she had no intentions of telling these common sailors—courageous as they might have been—of her plans with Christopher Gunn. It was none of their business after all. Let them think what they would.

  The sun burned through the fog once more, and Alice stared at the smoldering wreck of the ship that had been her home during the past several weeks. An ache came into her heart. The final link with her old life and her home in England was gone. Now there was no turning back. She squared her shoulders, telling herself that she had no desire to turn back. What was done was done. She would look ahead to better days—a new life in a new land. She was about to be married—truly married for the first time in her life.

  She glanced toward the shoreline, where the tall pines rose like black-green cathedral spires against the cloudless blue sky. The first frosts of autumn had already touched the forest with gold, orange, and scarlet. The whole scene before her seemed to blaze in the bright sunlight.

  “How beautiful,” she said softly, thinking of the dull grays and browns of London.

  Moments later they reached the rocky shore. Pegeen, quickly regaining her land legs, hurried to Alice’s boat to help her out.

  “Oh, my lady, you’re not hurt, praise God!”

  “And you, Peg?” Alice asked. “They did you no harm?”

  The little Irish imp, with her black hair, smoky-gray eyes, and a million freckles, grinned broadly. “’Twas one hairy brute who thought he’d found a girl of easy virtue. I let him know otherwise.”

  The red-bearded giant overheard and bellowed with laughter. “That she did. Cold-cocked the bastard with a water jug. We’ve brought him along to stand trial for piracy and murder. Too bad we can’t hang the whole lot of them.”

  The man chucked Pegeen under the chin and winked down at her. “If there wasn’t a pretty woman in my cabin already, missy, I’d be tempted to take you for my wife. A man can use a girl like you in these parts. A pert face, a plump figure, and handy with a jug besides. I’ll bet you could learn to skin a bear and tan his hide in no time. You’ll be warming some lucky fellow’s bed soon enough, I’ll wager.”

 
; Alice bristled at the stranger’s words. How dare he say such things to her servant! “Pegeen won’t be marrying just yet, sir. I’ll thank you to leave her be.”

  Peg’s face lost its broad grin and she hung her head. She wouldn’t mind at all taking one of these strangers up on any offers he might like to make. Still, Lord Balfour had willed her indenture to Lady Alice. Her mistress had the final say on when she could marry, at least for the next few months until her bond was served out.

  The big fellow laughed maddeningly again. “Ah, now, you wouldn’t be just a wee bit jealous of my attention to your girl, would you, ma’am?”

  “Of course not!” Alice answered too quickly. She swept past the annoying stranger, heading up the hill toward the fort. “Come along, Pegeen. Just be glad that disreputable clod has a wife already. When the time comes for you to wed, you can certainly do better than him.”

  “Yes, mum,” Pegeen answered miserably.

  The incline where their boats had put in was steep and slippery. Beyond lay the palisades of Fort Majabigwaduce with the British flag flying proudly overhead. Several acres around the fort were cleared for cultivation, but beyond the fields lay rolling hills clothed in thick forests of evergreen. The very air smelled green with pine.

  “Oh, Pegeen, isn’t it glorious?” Alice said, breathing deeply.

  “Yes, mum, if you say so.”

  Alice stopped and turned toward the girl. “Peg, you can’t possibly be pouting over that red-bearded bully back there.”

  “He did save us, mum. And he talked to me so pretty.”

  “Well, if one like that can turn your head, I hate to think who you might wind up marrying. Seeing what poor taste you have, I’ll be sure to make it my business to take a hand in the choosing of your man.”

  Pegeen’s whole face lit up and her freckles split with a grin. “Oh, mum, you’ll let me marry, then? I do long so for a husband and a passel of babies.”

  Several men nearby overheard the girl’s remark and stared at the two women, their interest heightened. Females were scarce in the Maine woods, and one that was ripe for marrying and willing besides was indeed a much-prized commodity.