by Dana Roquet
O’Malley joined her at the rail, with a sigh and a warm smile, “I see ye take to the early morn also.” He observed, watching the coast moving slowly by.
“Oui this is my favorite time of the day. O’Malley—what is that land there?”
“Tis the southern most part of America. We will be away from her in but a day or so. That be swampland mostly; uninhabited but for savages. The Spanish and the French have tried to get a foothold and failed. Twill be years before ‘tis fully explored I fear. Disease, stinging insects, gators—poisonous snakes; harsh land.” he confirmed with a nod of his head and a smile directed at her.
Desiree thanked him and then watched the coast as he left her and went about his duties. She had come to enjoy O’Malley greatly during their time at sea. He was in his forties she guessed, although she had never been a very good judge of people’s ages. He had a lean, sun-darkened face and rugged frame. His shoulder length dark brown hair was lightened in streaks by the sun and his eyes were a velvety dove gray. He was forever full of information about the world around him and he seemed to love nature and her wonders; always expounding upon interesting facts.
Desiree had noticed, during the heat of the day, when the men would shed their shirts, that there was a mass of scars upon his back—stripes and she had not had the courage yet to ask him what they had been earned for. In truth, she was afraid to know what evil he could have done to warrant such a punishment. She knew though, that were they dealt out in a single flogging, they would have surely brought him close to death. She could not imagine that he had committed a crime against another, for he was so very tenderhearted, but then, he was a pirate after all, she reminded herself. He couldn’t be lily white and be in this profession. In spite of it all she enjoyed him, just the same, deciding that it actually did not matter to her what his crimes had been.
She mused that soon she would arrive at Nevis and would meet this Pirate Red Legs who would be her captor. She fought against her fears about that meeting. All the men had been so very kind to her, she argued with herself, surely their leader would be no less kind. The unknown though, troubled her just the same.
She was desperately worried about Bridgett and her dear aunt and uncle, wondering how they would be coping with her disappearance. They could be envisioning hideous crimes being committed against her and here she was—well cared for and unharmed. She wished she could somehow send word and ease their fears but at this point in time, she could do nothing. She would make the best of her situation and pray her family would endure. At least she felt confident, that she was in good hands.
***
Stephen was only able to determine that indeed Macintosh had been involved in Desiree’s disappearance, presumably for a price. He did not know for certain where their destination would be but assumed they would make their way to the Main and safety, to avoid retribution. He kept Bridgett abreast of the information as it was gathered, she making a daily trek to his ship to discuss his progress and he trying as best he could to alleviate her worry.
It was another day before the Windward was made ready to sail and a day more rounding up his crew from their furlough he had granted. He had expected to be in port for a least a week and some had strayed off to surprisingly far-reaching locals. When at last all was made ready, he made a stop to inform Bridgett and Desiree’s family.
The young woman, who had ushered Desiree into the house when last he had seen her, opened the door and smiled up at him shyly, “May I help you sir?”
“My name is Stephen Colter. I would like a word with Bridgett Spencer.” He stated pleasantly.
The girl continued gazing into his eyes and he had doubts that she had even heard a word. “Could you perhaps locate her for me?” he asked glancing over her head, indicating the interior of the home, “Please.”
“Oh of course!” The young maid covered her gaping mouth with her hand in embarrassment. She had been taken off guard—never, she thought silently, had she seen such a fine figure of a man. Aloud she said politely, “I am sorry sir, come in, please.” She stepped back, allowing Stephen to enter and leaving him in the front hall, she rushed off in search of Bridgett.
Within moments, Bridgett hurried from the kitchen, through the front room.
“Captain Colter, are you leaving?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes we will be leaving within the hour.”
He smiled politely at the woman who had entered the room shortly after Bridgett. She resembled Desiree very much and he assumed she must be her aunt. Bridgett made the introductions and then turned back to Stephen, “How long will it be before we should expect you back?”
“I would say inside of six weeks, but don’t worry is it is a bit longer. I’ll be in touch as soon as I return.” He moved toward the door as he spoke, “And try not to worry yourself sick Bridgett. It has been a pleasure.” He gave a quick nod to Colette and Bridgett closed the door behind him, leaning against it heavily.
“It shall be a long six weeks.” Bridgett sputtered fighting to hold back the tears glistening in her eyes.
“It shall pass soon enough. I am positive that he will be successful and Desiree will be back with us soon, unharmed.” Colette assured, wrapping a comforting arm about Bridgett’s shoulders, with a squeeze, “Now how about a cup of nice hot tea?”
She led Bridgett through the front room toward the kitchen as she spoke, “My Lord but what a handsome man that Captain Colter is.” Colette sighed, “Were I a few years younger I would not mind a short voyage in his company.”
Bridgett shot her a look of surprise until she saw the mischief in Colette’s eyes and they shared a brief laugh together, in spite of their worry.
***
Stephen, Davison and Ham had conferred and decided it would be best to head east from the coast, catching the southerly trade winds, to make up for lost time. They would lose a couple days but gain many more with the strategy, arriving in the Main within days of the pirates. It was their thirteenth day out that fate dealt them a bad hand.
Stephen awoke abruptly, when Davison burst into his cabin.
“Cap—we are in the calm!” he barked, with a shake of his head.
Stephen swore under his breath, donning his breeches and storming above to see for himself. The air was dead, as if the breath had been sucked from the sea. The ship sat motionless and the sails hung in limp disarray. He climbed the stairs to the helm, to check the charts but they told him nothing he did not already know. The winds were never completely reliable and using the trades, always held this possibility. No telling now how long they would be adrift and he swore aloud at his bad luck.
His mind had been plagued with fears for Desiree in spite of his assurances to Bridgett that she would be fine. The thought that she was all alone with a ship full of criminals, that they could be harming her or taking advantage of her, drove him to distraction. The idea of a crew of pirates—of any man using her for their sport or harming Desiree in any way brought him close to murderous rage.
If he could just bring her away safely, he vowed that he would somehow end their rift. She despised him, yes, but he might find a way to gain her trust again and he could make a beginning of that—with this voyage. But how long would they be delayed? Only the wind knew the answer to that question. For now, they would drift aimlessly about the ocean.
Chapter Twenty
Desiree buttoned her dress up close to her throat and then smoothed the soft butter yellow material over her midriff. Using the recently acquired hairbrush, thanks to her wonderful captors, she scooped her heavy tresses back into a single lock and used a ribbon to hold it in place. She then looked about the cabin, one more time to assure she had not forgotten anything, added the brush to her bundle, with the rest of her meager belongings and had just finished, when a knock sounded at her door.
“Come in.” Desiree called.
O’Malley entered her cabin with a bright smile, “Mac sent me to fetch ye Lass. We be about to make land at Nevis and he thought
ye might like to get a look at her.”
“Oh but of course! I can not wait to get a look at this place you all think so highly of.” With light steps she proceeded O’Malley from the cabin and up onto the deck. Joining Mac at the helm, she saw that before her was not one island but what looked to be several islands looming ahead.
“Which one is Nevis?” she asked.
“The smaller one there in the distance, that be she.” Mac said, smiling with pride, “The other be Saint Kitts as the English call her. Past the point there and on east through the channel be Barbuda and Antigua and if ye were to head on down south Barbados and all the rest where pirates and scoundrels alike hold up. The most dangerous and feared riffraff of the world take refuge in these waters at one time or another. For the most though, we stay to our own and our own business.”
“I’ve heard of this part of the world and its reputation but it is certainly is as beautiful as it is dangerous.” Desiree had to admit and stood watching in awe as Nevis came into distinct clarity before her.
The island was squat and looked to be nearly round, at least on this side because as they approached she could see the curve of the end of land on either side. There were lush jungles and wonderful white sand beaches. The peak of a mountain at the center of the island was touched by clouds that passed overhead, seeming to catch upon its summit. The gentle slopes were covered in emerald green.
“Just beautiful.” She stated again.
“That she is Lass and even more so up close. Wait ‘til we get into the narrows and ye will see a wonder.” O’Malley said excitedly with a wink.
As the ship pulled closer to the island, Desiree was invited to the rail by O’Malley.
“Lassie ye not be seein’ a bouquet of flowers from any shop in the world with color to match this!” he declared, pointing to the waters below. He smiled with pride as though he might somehow be personally responsible.
Desiree peered over the side of the ship and gasped at what met her eyes. Bright green foliage against the white sand of the ocean floor—coral the colors of a rainbow and fish—thousands of brilliantly colored fish of all sizes and shapes darted about.
“Oh how lovely!” Desiree whispered and smiled at O’Malley as he waited expectantly, “You are right sir, never have I seen a bouquet to compare, even in the finest floral shops of Paris!”
“I thought not.” O’Malley said with a nod and a chuckle of pleasure.
Past the narrows, they arrived at a pier that jutted out on the sheltered leeward side of the island but three large ships with full guns were docked and Mac said they would have to wait their turn to unload their cargo. The ship was anchored just off shore and small boats were lowered to transport the crew. Desiree hurried below to retrieve her bundle, then waited up on deck until assisted over the side of the ship and down into a small sloop and Mac’s waiting arms.
As they rowed toward shore, Desiree looked ahead to what awaited her. Tropical palm trees lined the shore and the surf lapped gently at the white sandy beaches. In the far distance small cottages and larger houses dotted the slopes of the mountain and in the foreground just off the beach a short ways and directly before them, stood a large white mansion.
“That be the Cap’s house.” Mac offered.
Desiree smiled weakly and shored up her courage, for she was about to meet the pirate leader of these men.
With great fanfare the sloop became seized by helpful hands, quickly bottoming out in the shallows. A large audience of children frolicked in the surf, giggling gleefully; a few shrieking with joy as the pirates departed their boats, flinging their children high over their heads with chuckles and embraces. Fathers happily welcomed by their offspring.
Mac jumped into the surf, outstretching his arms toward her and Desiree held her bundle close and allowed him to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the beach, before gently setting her to her own two feet. The children pranced about her excitedly, gazing up at her with wonder. Exquisite children, Desiree thought to herself, with vigor and vitality borne of happy lives.
With the swarm of children skipping about them, Mac and Desiree led the procession up the beach, for the stately white manor. It was a lovely home, with verandas below and balconies above, lining the second story. Windows and paned glass doors abounded and even from the outside, one could sense its light and airy warmth. At a cobblestone walk that led to stairs and a veranda before double front doors, the procession of children stopped, going off about their own business, while Mac opened the door, without knocking, flinging it wide and stepping in while leading Desiree loosely by the arm.
Desiree was not disappointed at what she beheld as she entered, for the front hall was breathtaking. Almond wood floors glistened with polished luster, enhanced by the light that spilled through large windows at the top of the staircase. The high ceiling was open to the second floor, dramatically setting off an almond staircase that swept up and banisters formed a circle where a gigantic chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting flickering prisms of light about the hall. The walls were snowy white and aside from almond and stark white, there were green exotic potted plants gracing the hall in strategic locations.
To the left Desiree looked past a glass paned double door, to a front room tastefully decorated in pastels and beige tones, again flourishing with exotic splendor. To the right, a large formal dining room with a table that would seat perhaps twenty or more. The floor was covered with a dusty plum Persian rug.
Mac peered into the front room and then bellowed up the echoing staircase, “Red! Red be ye about?”
In moments Desiree heard a string of muffled Spanish, as light, slapping footfalls sounded out of sight and then a middle-aged woman appeared, rounding the staircase from the alcove beneath. In sandals and a bright magenta dress, she shook her head, her black eyes flashing. With a finger jabbing out toward Mac, she railed him unmercifully in sharp Spanish.
“Rena,” Mac said, grabbing her hand and patting it gently, "Stop rattlin’ at me in that and tell me where be the Cap.”
Still seething, the woman spoke sharply, with a heavy accent and a trilling of her tongue with each word, “Yer Captain is upstairs in his quarters. You got no business roarin’ through the place like that Macintosh!” her hands flailed with gesturing as she continued, “I tell you Macintosh, one these times, you scare me to deat’ and then what you and your Cap do without me to do your bidding? Eh?” Turning on her heels, she clomped off in the direction she had come, falling once more into irate Spanish.
“Oh she’s a luv—that one is!” Mac said to Desiree with a grin, “Come along Lass!” he grasped her by the elbow and hurried up the stairs with her in tow.
They moved down a wing, off to the left of the stairs, along a hallway covered in intervals with pale plum rugs until Mac stopped before a door, made up of scores of slatted vents. He knocked once before bursting in.
“Red! Cap be ye in here?” he inquired as his eyes darted about.
As did Desiree’s; fear of the unknown gripping her once again.
She noted the pastel satin of the sitting-room furniture, with the same airy lightness she had noted elsewhere in the house. Then from billowing white sheers at the open balcony door, a large hulking man appeared, with shoulder length sandy brown hair streaked with gray and a large mustache. He was a giant and if not for the unusually high doorframe, would have been forced to stoop as he entered. He was a good head and shoulders above Mac. He was the tallest man Desiree had ever seen. He entered with his light green eyes studying her and Desiree shrank back a bit, in spite of herself.
“What have we here?” he asked softly in a light Scottish brogue, his voice deep and formidable. He appeared to be surprised and yet pleased to see her. Desiree watched him warily.
“This be Miss Desiree Chandelle, Cap. She be stayin’ with us indefinitely.”
The giant gestured to the chairs behind them with a curious expression, “She will be, will she? Let’s have us a seat.”
; Mac led Desiree to a settee and she sat quietly upon the edge, unable to make a sound. Joining her, Mac removed a pouch from his waistband and tossed it onto the marble table before him and it landed with a resounding chink. Red seated himself across from the two and took the bag in his huge hand, raising dark bushy brows in question.
“Cap it seems the lass has enemies she be unaware of but I were paid well by way of O’Leary for her disappearance. I were not going to have any part of it but the scum that were bidding for the job, well,” he paused, holding Red’s gaze as he spoke, “I felt it me duty to see the lass out of harm’s way. ‘Twas suppose to do away with her and so, here she be.” He smiled brightly at Desiree, “Bonnie ain’t she Red?”
“Aye, bonnie to be sure.” Red nodded in agreement, “Tell me Lass has Mac here treated ye well on the voyage? Ye appear a tad fearful.”
“Yes sir, Mac and all the men have been very kind.” Desiree answered softly in English.
“French I wager ye be.” he stated, grinning when she nodded, “Well ye be most welcome here ‘til we can figure what yer next move should be and please, call me Red. No more of this sir eh?” he chuckled.
Desiree smiled faintly, surprised by his kind manner. For all of his formidable size, his face was jovial and serene. He had a definite twinkle of a fun-loving nature in his eyes and she felt the dregs of unease lifting. She tried to calculate his age, possibly fifty or more but the eyes were young with merriment and a love of life.
“Well now, ye could stand a bit of rest I’ll wager. Let me go see what Rena can arrange as far as quarters.” He rose, heading for the door in a lumbering stride, “Mac the lass have any possessions?” he called over his shoulder.
“Precious few Cap. Only a few of the things bought for the housekeepers. Off hand I can’t think of anything in the warehouses.”
