So many men crowded into the boat that Rory feared they would be swamped. All the men but Yellow Hal rowed. Even Guillermo tried, although his broken hand was useless. All eyes were riveted on the approaching beach. Somewhere on this cay was the Raven’s treasure, if Rory had read the map correctly. If not, she knew he would kill her.
The island was not remarkable. It could not have been more than two miles from the beach to the mountain in its center. Beyond a ring of sand was jungle, broken only by a creek that cut through it to the sea.
She said nothing when Yellow Hal was the first to leap ashore. In the sunset, the beach was peaceful. Nothing moved but the palms above the lush undergrowth. Wild flowers added color and a heavy scent to the briny air.
Sunset! She must have been asleep almost a full day. She had not guessed they were only a day’s sail from Raven Isle. She wondered who had put sleeping powder in her food but had no time to guess as one of the men motioned for her to get out of the boat.
Rory stepped out and splashed ashore, almost falling with every step. Her chemise and Guillermo’s coat clung to her legs, but she did not care. Despite what Guillermo had said, she guessed the men cared about nothing but the gold. She stared back out at the sea. Where was the Vengeance? Nathan knew where Raven Isle was. He would not end his quest before he found the gold, would he?
When the men began to walk down the beach, she was careful not to mention they were going in the wrong direction. She must give the Vengeance a chance to get here; she would delay telling Yellow Hal where the gold was for as long as she could. She did not look at the creek, even though she guessed she could pinpoint the approximate location of the gold in the cave once she reached its headwaters.
“Sit!” Yellow Hal ordered, pointing to the sand.
She did. She would obey as long as she could without telling him where the gold was. She did not need her wits battered out of her skull by his fists. When she saw the men watching her, she realized she had been wrong. Holding Guillermo’s coat to her chin, she saw each man scrutinizing everything she did. They might be thinking only of the gold, but their stares unsettled her. She tried not to show her terror.
Her hand was lifted from the sand and patted. Guillermo sat beside her. “How are you, Rory, mi querida?”
“A bit dizzy and more than a bit confused. How is your hand?”
He smiled weakly. “My fingers will heal, but the guitar will never sing for me as it did when I played for you at La Casa de las Flores.”
“I am sorry, Guillermo.” She did not know what else to say.
“I know you are. None of this is your fault. The sins of the fathers have come to rest upon their children. We pay the price for their greed.” He sighed and stared at Yellow Hal, who was conferring with his men. “I won’t leave this island alive. I pray that you do, Rory.”
She did not know how to reply, and there was no time to think of an answer because Yellow Hal was striding toward them. Guillermo scurried away like a sand crab as the pirate pulled her to her feet.
Even though his eyes were slitted, she could see greed in them. “All right, Rory, my girl. Take me to your father’s gold.”
A scream overhead halted her answer. Something struck the palms. Wood and sand sprayed everywhere. Thunder rumbled, then another screech.
Rory dropped to the sand, holding her hands over her head. Someone was firing on them. The Vengeance? It would make no difference if she was killed by a cannonball from Nathan’s ship or Yellow Hal’s. She heard the pirate shout orders, but his words were muffled and she knew he was lying on the sand, too.
This was her chance. She inched across the beach on her stomach. If she could reach the trees, beyond where the palms were being lacerated by cannonballs, she might be able to hide. She did not know how she would survive alone in the jungle, but she liked her chances there better than as Yellow Hal’s captive.
Raising her head, she saw Yellow Hal and his men flat on the sand. Another ball flew over their heads, striking the trees beyond her. She looked out into the cove. It was the Vengeance. Her pulse of hope vanished when she saw the Scourge’s gunports being thrown open.
Jumping to her feet, she ran toward the trees before another ball could be fired, pushing through the underbrush. She did not care where she went as long as it was away from Yellow Hal.
Hands caught her. Before she could scream, another hand covered her mouth. She struggled. She would not be taken back to that pirate. She would not be!
“Don’t fight your allies, sweetheart.”
At the whisper, her eyes widened. Nathan! When he released her, she whirled to throw her arms around him. He drew her farther back into the underbrush, kissing her as she had feared he never would again. Bringing her down to her knees, he put his finger to her lips as she started to ask a question.
The bushes moved, and she tensed. She smiled when she saw Ernest’s wrinkled face. He winked as he had on the Vengeance.
At the thought of the ship, she looked back toward the cove. She gasped when she saw the Vengeance sailing away. It tacked around the side of the cove and disappeared from sight just as the Scourge fired after it.
“They’re leaving us!” she whispered. She could not believe Nathan’s crew would abandon them to Yellow Hal.
Nathan smiled. “They had orders to create a diversion. They did. They’ll be meeting us on the far side of the island in two days.”
“Two days?”
“It should give us enough time.”
She closed her eyes. Would this never end? “To get the gold?”
“What else?” He took her hand and led her away from the beach. When she faltered, putting her hand to her head, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m dizzy.”
“Just the sleeping powder or—” His face tightened. “Has Warwick laid a hand on you again?”
Nausea cramped her middle. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll keep up.”
Ernest turned from watching the men, who still were clinging to the sand. “Let’s go. Warwick’s going to figure out in a minute that the Vengeance is gone. Then he’ll want to find Miss Rory.”
She put her hand on his arm. “The gold is the other way, Ernest.”
“You know where it’s hidden?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me that you knew where on the island it’s cached,” Nathan said slowly.
“You told me not to.”
He grinned wryly, taking her hand as they rushed away from the beach. “You don’t usually obey orders that well.”
“We need to go along the creek.”
He glanced at Ernest. “That would be the quickest way away from here.” Guiding her ahead of him, he said, “Lead the way, Rory.”
The going was easy at first, then a mile from the beach the creek rose sharply, becoming treacherous. Rory slowed, keeping her eyes on where she placed her feet so she wouldn’t fall. As sick as she felt, she was unsure if she could get back up.
She paused when Ernest broke some branches to make it appear as if they had gone into the jungle there. He had Rory walk a few steps through the mud before Nathan grabbed her arms and swung her back into the water. With luck, Yellow Hal would chase her that way. The ploy would not fool the pirates for long, but every moment was valuable.
When she stumbled for a third time as night fell around them, Nathan said, “We need to take a rest.”
“I can keep going,” she argued.
“You need to conserve your strength in case you need it.”
She nodded, understanding what he did not say. If Yellow Hal found them, they would have to flee at top speed.
She slipped her fingers into Nathan’s as he led her to a mossy hummock. Sinking to the ground, she rested her head on her knees and tried to draw a steady breath. The sleeping powder must have been more powerful than she guessed.
She listened to Nathan and Ernest talking, but their words drifted through her head, making no sense. She did not realize she
had fallen asleep until Nathan shook her gently. When she opened her eyes and saw the moon had risen, he smiled.
“You’ve changed, Rory. In Port Royal, you worked night and day. Now all you do is sleep.”
With a weak grin, she said, “Making up for lost time.” She searched his face and saw the gray arcs under his eyes. “You look as if you could use some sleep, too.”
“I’ve had too much lately.” He sat beside her. Drawing her cheek to his shoulder, he murmured, “I thought I would go mad when I realized you were gone and we could not catch the Scourge for almost a week.”
“Almost a week?” she gasped. “I woke up just before we came ashore.”
His curse was a vicious growl. “Somehow, I’m going to see that Warwick pays for this.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want to think of him.”
“I’d rather think of you.” He put his arms around her and gave her a smile that showed what he was thinking. She laughed and batted away his exploring hands.
“How can you think of that now?” she asked, then yawned.
“I can’t think of anything else when you’re near.” His kiss lingered against her lips. When she yawned again, he chuckled. “Maybe I should let you get back to your nap while I see what food Ernest packed for us.”
She steered his mouth to hers. Desperation burned in his kiss as his arms tightened around her, telling her what he had not said. He worried each kiss might be the last they shared.
Ernest raced toward them. “They’re on our trail, Cap’n. About a dozen men.”
Nathan pulled Rory into the jungle. Her chemise caught again and again on the briars that slapped her face. She ran as fast as she could.
A shot sounded. Rory heard a moan. She turned to see Ernest fall and not move. She cried, “Ernest!”
“C’mon!” Nathan yanked her to a run again.
Another shot buzzed past her to splinter into a tree trunk.
“Stop!” came a shout from behind them. “The next one will be in you!”
Nathan tugged her to a faster pace. “C’mon! They won’t kill you, Rory!”
Out of the shadows of the trees, two men lunged. Rory was knocked from her feet. She fought wildly to escape. Then, the man was plucked from her, and she heard the dull sound of flesh striking flesh.
Nathan held out his hand to her. She started to rise, then screamed, “Look out! Behind you!”
He could not turn before Guillermo clubbed him with a pistol butt. He fell heavily to lie as still as Ernest.
“Nathan! No, not Nathan!” she cried as Guillermo bent over him. She hit Guillermo with her fists.
He shoved her away and said, “He’s dead.”
Sixteen
Rory struggled to breathe as she stared at Nathan’s motionless body. “No!” she whispered. “He can’t be dead.”
Guillermo tried to pull her away. “I tell you. He’s dead.”
Jabbing her elbow into his stomach, she pushed past him. Another man blocked her way. When she started to edge around him, he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.
“Let me go!” she shrieked. “Nathan!”
He carried her toward where his companions were coming through the trees. She tried to get free, but he gripped her feet too tightly for her to kick him. She pounded on his back, but he just laughed. She screamed again as he pulled her off his shoulder and tossed her through the air.
She was caught against a wide chest. She closed her eyes in defeat as she recognized Yellow Hal’s triumphant laughter. With the Vengeance gone and Ernest and Nathan hurt or dead, she had no one but herself to depend on to get out of this. She knew that she alone could not do it—not if Nathan was dead.
She looked up into Yellow Hal’s craggy face. In the moonlight, she could see the blood etched into his skin from the wounds left by the cannon shots from the Vengeance.
He grinned at her. “Rory, my girl, welcome back.”
When she did not retort, his pale eyebrows came together in a frown. She closed her eyes, but she could not shut out the sight of Nathan on the ground. She wanted to cry, to free the pain that buffeted her. It clogged her throat, refusing to budge.
“Where is Lawler?” Yellow Hal shouted.
Guillermo pushed past Yellow Hal’s men. “He’s dead, Captain Warwick.”
“Dead?” His bellow filled the jungle. “I wanted to see him die!”
“It’s too late for that, Captain. Both he and Dawes are dead. You have Rory. Isn’t that enough?”
Yellow Hal returned his victorious smile to her. “Yes, it is quite enough.” His fingers under her legs moved along them in an eager caress.
When she flinched, she wondered why she cared what he did. It was over. Her hopes, her dreams, her life—all had died with Nathan.
“I want the Raven’s gold, Rory,” Yellow Hal said. “Take me to it.”
“All right, Captain.”
“So easy tonight, my girl?” He could not hide his shock.
Rory was tempted to tell him why she wanted him to have her father’s treasure. The gold had to be cursed, so many people had died trying to possess it. Her father and the crew of the Raven, Guillermo’s father and his crew aboard La Madre Maria, the Blindman, Ernest and … Nathan! Her heart caught in midbeat. She did not want to believe he was dead.
Her father had told her to give his gold to those who deserved it. She could not imagine anyone more deserving of its curse than Yellow Hal, who had killed or hurt most of the people in her life.
“Go to the headwaters of the creek,” she said, staring back toward where Nathan was. “From there, I can show you how to find it.”
He set her on her feet. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Father, I know you wanted to keep Yellow Hal from having this gold. I hope you understand why he must have it. Her hands were jerked away from her face and bound with a long piece of rope.
“Captain Warwick,” Guillermo asked, “is it necessary to treat her so cruelly?” As he moved closer, she could see in the dim light that he had been struck by something on the beach, for blood oozed along his cheek. He put his hand under her elbow and brought her to her feet. “She has agreed to cooperate. Give her the dignity she deserves.”
“Come and visit her at my place in Port Royal, Herrera y Fallas, and perhaps I will let you have her if the size of your gold piece is right.” He pulled on the rope and forced her to stumble toward him. “Rory has worked for me before. She will again, but she won’t be serving drinks behind the bar.”
She raised her head and met his eyes for the first time. “You will dine with the devil before I whore for you.”
He stared at her as the clearing grew silent. He had not expected her defiance, but he should have. Not only was she the daughter of Captain Stuart Powell, and not only had she been raised in the cesspool of Port Royal where she could depend on little but her wits, she had nothing left to lose. Let him have the accursed gold! He would not take her soul with it.
Yellow Hal swore, but Guillermo snatched the rope and, pulling her to a tree, lashed the rope around it. “Take care,” he whispered.
“He can do no worse than kill me.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you so sure of that?”
Her laugh was honed. “Do you want me to weep at a fate worse than death? You seemed quite willing to rape me in Havana. Why are you coming to my defense now when Yellow Hal wants to do what Nathan halted you from doing?”
His face grew pale, and he walked away as Yellow Hal ordered one of his men to guard her. A single glare warned Herrera y Fallas not to be so foolish again.
Rory rested her head against the tree as she gazed at the stars. She could not believe Nathan was dead, even though she had seen him fall and Guillermo check to see if he breathed.
If there was any chance he or Ernest were alive, they would need help. To help them, she must escape. That was impossible, she realized when she glanced around the clearing. Ernest had been right. The
re were twelve men from the Scourge. Her bound hands in her lap clenched in anger. Yellow Hal cared so little for the first mate that he had not asked if he was dead or alive.
Yellow Hal came over to her with a cup. He held it to her lips. “Drink.”
She did as he ordered. The coolness eased her thirst but not the knot in her heart. “I assume that this is drugged, too.”
“It will make it easier for all of us tonight, Rory, if you sleep like a good girl. We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow while we load Powell’s gold on the Scourge.” His repugnant smile glistened in the moonlight. “Don’t expect Herrera y Fallas to help you. He’s already asleep.”
“I didn’t expect him to help me.” She yawned. “I must bid you good night, Captain. I am sure you aren’t surprised that I suddenly feel very tired.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head down onto her drawn-up knees, glad that the sleeping powder would keep dreams at bay. Tomorrow, the nightmare would begin again.
Yellow Hal had measured the sleeping powder well, for Rory woke just as the men were finishing their breakfast. Mud stuck to her face, and she knew she must have been crying in her sleep. Those tears had not eased her grief, her disbelieving grief, because she could not accept that Nathan was truly dead, along with her most precious dreams. When had her dreams of a cottage and a flower garden grown to include him standing in the doorway beside her?
A piece of fruit was shoved into her hands. Although her stomach protested, she ate. When she finished it, Guillermo brought her another piece. She bit into the pulp, and sticky juice ran along her arms, leaving shiny lines amid the dirt.
“I know it is too late,” he said softly, “and I have said this before, but I am sorry, mi querida.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “You are right, Guillermo. It’s too late. I could have forgiven you anything else. How can you forgive yourself? You hate my father because he killed for this gold. Now you have done the same. My father killed your father, and you have slain the man I love. Does it give you your revenge? Is it as sweet as you had hoped?”
Raven Quest Page 15
