“I saved a few pieces in the galley.” She tilted back her head to smile up at him.
It was an invitation he could not refuse. When her lips welcomed his, he drew her to her feet. He put his arm under her knees and swept her up against his chest, still kissing her. His feet knew the decks of the Vengeance so well, he continued to kiss her as he carried her into his quarters and kicked the door closed. As he leaned her back in the bed they shared, the first hint of a breeze crawled through the open windows. He ignored it as he let her pull him into her arms and help him forget that he had no idea what he and his crew would do if they could not recover the gold.
Rory stood at Nathan’s side as the island of Jamaica appeared over the horizon. Once the winds had risen again, the Vengeance had made excellent time. Although she had never approached Port Royal from the sea, she was familiar enough with the city to point out the warehouses along the harborside wharves.
“If you moor in Chocolatta Hole between the turtle pens and Fort Charles, Yellow Hal may not realize we have arrived,” she suggested.
“We should find out if Warwick has arrived here yet,” Nathan answered.
She searched the harbor. “There.”
Nathan nodded as she pointed to a ship near where another ship was being refurbished. The HMS Swan, if he remembered correctly. Beside it floated the Scourge, sitting deep in the water. He gripped the rail. The cargo of gold that weighed the Scourge down should be Rory’s.
“Mooring near Fort Charles will allow us to slip into Yellow Hal’s place and find out what Olive knows,” she continued.
“Olive?” Ernest asked as he came to stand beside them.
“I was wondering when you’d get around to asking about her,” Rory answered, linking her arm through his. “She spoke of you when she saved me from Yellow Hal.”
“Did she now?”
“She said she hoped you’d come back to Port Royal sometime and see her.”
“Did she now?” He chuckled with satisfaction.
Nathan turned to shout orders to his crew to take them into the inner harbor called Chocolatta Hole. “Going to Yellow Hal’s place would be inviting trouble we don’t need. Our first stop should be Fort Charles. We can report Warwick to the authorities for murder and robbery. Then they will—”
“Do nothing.” She stepped away and shook her head. “With the gold Yellow Hal has, he can buy the favor of every official in the Caribbean.”
“There must be one honest man in Port Royal.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Rory sighed as Nathan was called away to help his crew bring the Vengeance to the inner harbor. Glancing at the Scourge, she tried to see if anyone was on watch. The decks appeared abandoned. Squinting, she saw motionless forms on the decks; they appeared to be asleep or drunk.
She tried to silence her uneasiness. Nothing looked amiss in the harbor, but disquiet crawled along her skin like an insect. Maybe it was nothing more than her silly superstitions about the gold. Or maybe it was because Nathan had pretended not to hear her when she had said this morning that she loved him. She longed to believe that he truly had not heard her because he had been on his way out the door to answer some question for Ernest.
Or maybe it was the truth she was trying to ignore. She had seen the glances Ernest gave her, and she guessed he had his suspicions, too. The sickness that had been plaguing her had eased, coming only in the morning now. The queasiness and the fatigue could mean only one thing—she was pregnant. She knew she should tell Nathan, but she had not. She wanted to be sure.
When they were anchored on the far side of Port Royal from the Scourge, Nathan called for the small boat to be lowered. He merely cocked one eyebrow at Rory, when she walked to where the rope ladder was being dropped over the side.
“You’ll need a guide,” she said, as she settled her foot on the first rung of the ladder. “No one better than Rory Mullins.”
He put his hands over hers on the rail. “You’d better not repeat that name too often. It’ll get back to Warwick.”
Her breath caught. From fear of Yellow Hal or delight at Nathan’s tender touch? She was not sure.
As she scrambled down the ladder, only Nathan and Ernest followed. She said nothing when she saw that they both wore two pistols as well as a pair of knives.
The fort and its massive cannon spread a shadow across the olive green waters of the harbor. She turned to look back at the city as Nathan and Ernest rowed, letting the gentle waves help carry them ashore. It was nearly midday, so few people were out in the sunshine. This once had been her favorite time to go to the market near St. Paul’s on the other side of Port Royal.
“No,” she said when they started rowing toward the city. “It’ll be quicker and easier to reach the fort from the starboard side of the harbor.”
“It’s farther to row,” Ernest argued.
“We’ll be less likely to meet someone who will know us.”
Nathan nodded. “She’s right.” He bent to tug on the oars to aim them at the far beach.
Ernest jumped out and pulled the lighter ashore. By the time Nathan was handing Rory out, a quartet of men were walking toward them. Nathan reached for his pistol, but Rory put a hand on his arm.
“Those are the king’s men,” she whispered.
“What are they doing here?”
She bit back her answer as pistols were trained on them. “Identify yourselves,” called one of the men.
Nathan edged in front of her. When she saw the men’s eyes narrow, she stepped from behind him. They could not be mistaken for smugglers because smugglers were sent to hang with only a pretense of a trial.
He glanced at her with a frown but said, “Nathan Lawler, master of the Vengeance anchored yonder, my first mate Ernest Dawes, and our cabinboy Stuart.”
Rory struggled not to smile. She liked the idea of using her father’s name. Nathan was right, Port Royal was more dangerous for her now than in the past, especially if things were so unsettled that the governor had posted a patrol to meet everyone coming ashore. She glanced back toward the outer harbor but could not see it past the city. Yellow Hal might be causing all kinds of trouble as he spent her father’s gold.
“Vengeance?” The man with the pistol frowned. “What is your business here, Captain?”
“We’ve come to claim what was taken from us.” Not pausing to give the man a chance to ask what it was, he gestured toward the fort on the spit between the harbor and the sea. “Is your commander available at Fort Charles?”
“Aye.”
“Then I shall pay him a visit.” Motioning with his head, he said, “C’mon, mates.”
As Rory followed Nathan past the men, one of them stepped in front of her. He scowled at her. “Don’t I know you?”
She eyed him up and down, then shrugged. “Save those provocative questions for the ladies, mate.”
The soldiers laughed and lowered their weapons. She did not dare to relax her stance as she continued along the sand toward the fort, whose walls seemed to rise straight from the sand.
Ernest patted her shoulder, and she turned to grin at him.
Nathan grasped her sleeve, tugging her along the sand. “Don’t get too cocky,” he muttered. “They might remember that they’d seen you in Yellow Hal’s place.”
“The king’s men weren’t welcome there, and they knew it,” she said. With a broadening smile, she added, “One night, they were foolish enough to come in and—”
Thunder boomed. Before she could look up at the cloudless sky, the sand trembled beneath her. She tried to brace herself. There had been earthquakes in Port Royal before, and she knew they were safer outside than they would have been inside. All they needed to do was wait for the earth to subside.
Suddenly, the ground heaved like a wave driven before a hurricane. She clutched Nathan’s arm as Ernest choked a prayer. Her scream was lost as the straining of the tortured earth swallowed every other sound. She did not know if she was thrown to the ground or if the beach cam
e up to her. As she tried to hold onto the ground, the sand slipped through her desperate fingers. She stared across the harbor to see bricks tumbling off the buildings. They swayed like palms.
The ground calmed, but her heart beat so fiercely she did not realize it for several seconds. Nathan reached for her. She rose to go to where he was crouched on the sand.
Another tremor knocked her from her feet. She shrieked as the earth erupted with another ear-piercing rumble. Sand scored her face as she tumbled to the ground. She cried out in horror as she saw roofs collapse into houses, screaming people swarm into the streets. Bricks and glass flew everywhere. If they had gone ashore on that side of the harbor …
Even before the ground stopped, a third quake shook them, even more violent, tossing her against Nathan. He grasped her and pressed her to the ground. She choked back a groan as she saw a row of houses fall. She could not see where the people on the street were. Could they run when the ground was alive?
Ernest’s arms went around her, too. Together they would survive or be swept into the maelstrom.
The ground grew still, but the roar continued. She looked toward the harbor and screamed. Scrambling to her feet, she cried, “Run!”
The wave rose up like a behemoth from the depths of the sea, racing toward them. She was shoved to the ground. Nathan pressed her again to the sand.
The rush of air took her breath away, then the fury of the wave struck them. It crushed her against the beach until she did not know if Nathan remained over her or not. Her chest ached with the need to breathe. How long could she go without air?
Then the water was gone, leaving her soaked and gasping for breath. She raised her head and reached out to touch Nathan, who was lying motionless more than five feet from her. Beyond him, Ernest’s arms and legs moved, and she knew he was alive. She choked back her terror as she lurched to Nathan on hands and knees.
As she bent to check Nathan, she heard Ernest whisper, “God have mercy on us.”
She looked across the harbor. The wave was gone, and so was more than half of Port Royal.
Eighteen
“Is he alive?” Ernest asked as he crawled to where Nathan lay. His clothes clung to him, and Rory saw blood on his face and along his shoulder where Yellow Hal’s men had shot him. The wound was open again.
“He’s—”
“I’m fine,” Nathan muttered, wincing as he tried to sit. “I just learned I can’t breathe under water. I will have much more appreciation for a fish’s skills from now on.”
Rory smiled, although she had not thought she could. When Ernest held out his hand to help him up, Nathan groaned and cursed.
She cautiously touched his left arm. “Oh, no! It’s broken.”
“How are you?” He struggled to sit, spitting out sand.
“I’m not hurt.”
“No?” He touched her cheek and drew back fingers that were bright with blood.
“Not hurt bad,” she corrected. “We need to tend to that arm.”
He nodded. “It’s somewhat comforting to know the Lawler luck is still with me. It protects those around me, not me.”
“Not all those around you.”
“The Vengeance?”
“It came through everything all right, Cap’n,” Ernest said, pointing to where the ship still rocked on the heavy surf.
She heard Nathan’s sharp intake of breath when he looked across Chocolatta Hole. She understood his shock. She wanted to discount what her eyes were showing her. The Swan was perched on some houses that once had been far inland. Everything along the harbor had vanished into the sea. She was not even sure she could pick out where Yellow Hal’s place had been.
She bit back a sob as she glanced at Ernest. He was staring at where the waterfront had disappeared. Tears bubbled into his eyes.
Putting her hand on his arm, she whispered, “Olive may not have been there. I usually went to the market at this hour. Maybe she took over that task when I left.”
“The market? Where is it?”
She started to point, then realized it was gone, too. Even the steeple of St. Paul’s was missing, swallowed by the wave that had sucked Port Royal, pirate and prominent citizen alike, into the sea.
Quickly Ernest set Nathan’s arm in some scraps of wood that Rory gathered on the beach. She did not want to think of what the flotsam might have been minutes before the earthquake struck.
As soon as Nathan stood, Rory said, “Ernest, I can help you row across to the city.”
“The city?” Nathan asked as he stood. “We should go to Fort Charles. It’s on this side of the bay.”
She looked at the fort. Its walls were broken, but it was still standing. “But Olive wouldn’t be there.”
“You expect to find her over there?”
“I must look.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s the only one I could still call friend in Port Royal.”
Ernest cleared his throat, then said, “Cap’n, I would like to know what happened to her, too.”
Nathan nodded with a wry smile. “Just keep your eyes open in case we run into one of Warwick’s lads.” He turned to look at the harbor. Debris and fallen buildings blocked the view of the area of the harbor where the Scourge had been moored. “I’m not going to let him kill us after we lived through an earthquake.”
Rory walked through what was left of Port Royal. She heard cries of pain and shouts as the survivors searched for missing friends and relatives. Maybe she should have gone back to the Vengeance as Nathan had suggested, after seeing the extent of the damage. The boat they had found on the far side of the bay had not been their lighter, but they had used it.
No, she had been right to refuse to return to the ship. It was difficult enough for her to find her way through the ruins. Nathan and Ernest would have been hopelessly lost within minutes.
Around her, it looked as if a giant had pressed down on the rooftops, burying the houses in the sand to their eaves. It was an illusion created by the fallen houses and the HMS Swan, which was grounded on top of a section that once had been more than a block inland from the sea.
She shivered as Nathan hurried her along the street. She watched for bricks that were still pelting the street and tried not to look at the bodies in the rubble. Already, fingers were missing from some hands. Looters in their haste not to be caught cut off the fingers of the dead to steal their gold rings.
Hearing a bawdy song, she saw men in a taproom that was leaning back from the street. Rum streamed out the door, but the drinking, gambling, and whoring continued.
A soldier came around the side of a building. He looked as if he was walking in his sleep, but he held his sword out in front of him.
Nathan lowered the man’s arm slowly. “Friend, we are all in this together.”
The man’s face wrinkled as he began to weep.
Another soldier appeared from around the debris. Looking at the first soldier, he cursed before turning to them and asking, “Where were you when it hit?”
“On the spit by Fort Charles,” Nathan replied.
“Is it still there?”
“Yes. The walls are cracked, but it still stands.”
The soldier closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “At least one of them didn’t sink into the sea.”
“The other forts are gone?” Rory gasped. Without the king’s men, what was left of Port Royal would be an easy target for any pirate.
“Aye. Gone with all inside their walls.” He straightened and asked in a sterner voice, “Where are you bound?”
“We’re looking for a woman who worked at Yellow Hal’s place.”
“Yellow Hal’s place?” he repeated, his voice faltering on each word. “It’s gone.” He glanced at the harbor where the waves were still too high and crashing over broken houses.
“We know that,” Rory said, wondering if they all looked as lost as these soldiers. “Do you know where survivors are going?”
“Some told me they were heading toward the synagogue on
New Street. It’s still above water.”
As Nathan continued to talk with the soldier, Rory turned to Ernest. “We’ll find Olive.”
He tried to smile but failed. “I should have asked her to go with me before we left. I could have asked the cap’n to bring her with you to the Vengeance. At the time, I thought having her aboard would jeopardize our chances to find the gold.” His second attempt to grin was more successful, although pain still dimmed his eyes. “Now you can see why the cap’n and I get along so well. We both make the same stupid mistakes. We thought the gold was the most important thing in our lives.”
“He still does.”
“Does he?”
Rory faltered, for she had no answer but a question of her own. “If he does not want the gold, then why did we chase Yellow Hal back here?”
“He does want the gold. For you.”
“I don’t want that gold. It’s cursed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rory! Ernest!” called Nathan. “Let’s check the synagogue.”
Grimly, Ernest nodded.
Rory understood his despair. It was hard to believe anyone had escaped alive. Rushing to Nathan’s side, she reached for his hand, then pulled it back. A captain did not hold his cabinboy’s hand.
The synagogue was surrounded by a sparkling collection of broken glass. The roof hung at a dangerous angle, so no one was going inside. A man stood outside with a stack of books beside him. At first, Rory thought he might be the rabbi but then heard him giving orders in the name of the lieutenant governor of Jamaica, John White, who had assumed control of the island after the governor’s death at the beginning of the year. The King’s House, where the Council usually met, must be gone.
Nathan went to him, stepping over sheaves of papers that somehow had been saved. “Are you in charge?” he asked.
“I am Cruikshank, the lieutenant governor’s assistant.” It was somehow comforting to see that, despite the destruction, the slow-moving wheels of government continued to turn. As if he sat in a fine chamber instead of standing on the street, he asked, “Who are you?”
“Nathan Lawler of the Vengeance.”
Raven Quest Page 17
