“Neptune’s cullions,” Fuks screamed, wiping the saliva from his face. “You’re an insolent cunt.”
“Do you know my daughter?” Andrew asked her, still cowering on the deck. “Celia Pierce?”
Molly paused. “Aye, the seamstress—the cap’n’s lady.”
“Is she well?” Andrew asked, hopefully.
“Aye. I’d gladly trade places with her right now.”
“Exactly how many women are on this ship of yours?” Fuks asked.
“The seamstress, the doctor’s sister, the cap’n, and me.”
“The captain is a woman?” Fuks shouted. Agog, he turned to Crenshaw. “A woman maimed you this badly?”
Crenshaw glared back at him. “Aye, but she didn’t live to tell of it.”
“Hmph,” Fuks muttered. He shifted his attention back to Andrew. “Well, sir. You’ve got two options. You can pay us what you promised, take this lass that we nabbed for ye, and treat her as you would your loving daughter; or you can head over the rail.”
“What? But that wasn’t our agreement.”
“Aye, but that was before I had a bloody fortune at my feet. Now your five hundred gold looks like shit to me.”
“You villainous snake.”
“That’s it,” Fuks said. “Over the rail he goes. Give my greetings to Davy Jones.”
*
As much as Celia wanted to talk Gayle out of simply changing her clothes and setting out on a journey of retribution, she couldn’t set aside the thought of Molly at the hands of murderous thieves. She helped Gayle dress, marveled at her shoulder’s dark bruising and swelling, and as the sun began to rise she stood nearby while Gayle addressed the crew of Original Sin up on deck.
She released her anger, and her fiery words riled the rest of the crew and forged them into a cohesive army like never before.
“So we find the bloody bastards that killed our brothers and kidnapped our sister and helped themselves to my father’s fortune,” she concluded.
The crew all cheered, prompting Gayle to shout, “Then man your stations. We return to New Providence to find the scum and run them through!”
Chapter Twenty
Celia entered Gayle’s quarters holding two warm tankards of tea. Gayle didn’t even look up from her charts as she sat at her desk, busily plotting her course.
“Here, love,” Celia said, setting the tea before Gayle. “Drink this. It will fortify you.”
Gayle’s gaze darted to the tankard but she didn’t touch it. “Many thanks.”
“Are you all right?”
“I fear not.” She sighed. “I’ve been deluding myself these many weeks, thinking myself a fit and proper captain. Thanks to me, crewmen have died, been kidnapped and no doubt accosted, and my father’s long-coveted wealth has been lost forever. I have to return to him with naught but regret and tell him I am a failure.”
“You are no failure,” Celia said, turning Gayle’s chin to look deeply into her mahogany eyes. “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You are strong, yet compassionate—swift, yet canny and shrewd. You are all that I had thought I was foolish enough to aspire to.”
“But I couldn’t save Nichols or Caruthers, Molly may be enduring defilement a thousand different ways as we speak, and I am no closer to emancipating her—should she still be drawing breath. What if we are sailing completely in the wrong direction?” She raked her hand through her crimson hair.
Celia took her chin and kissed her softly on the lips—not an act of passion, but of reverence. “I, and every soul on this ship, know you to be a wise and capable captain. This crew would knowingly follow you to the ends of the earth if you commanded it. Do not doubt yourself, love, for no one else does.”
Gayle wrapped her arm around Celia and pulled her close. “I do thank God for you,” she muttered softly.
“Who you should really thank is Churchill,” she commented. “He’s the one who picked me out.” She sat on Gayle’s lap and continued to hold her.
“He does have very good taste.”
“I’m glad I’ve passed muster.”
“All hands to,” someone called from outside. They both scrambled to their feet and rushed out on deck.
Hyde stood barefooted, his legs interlaced in the rigging of the ship, pointing over the starboard side of the bow. “A body, Cap’n,” he shouted. “There’s a body a-floatin’ in the water!”
Gayle rushed to the starboard railing and stared at what Hyde had seen—a man draped over a barrel, floating with the tide. “Heave to and drop the anchor, lads,” she called. “He looks to be alive. Summon the doctor.”
Gleeson and Diego—a first-rate Spanish gunner—climbed the netting over the side and fished the waterlogged man out of the ocean. After tying a rope around his chest, they hoisted him up over the rails to other members of the crew.
“Father,” Celia cried, running up to him.
“Celia? Is it finally you, dear?”
“Aye, Father,” she replied. “What happened? Why are you floating around the Caribbean?” She began to untie the rope that encircled him.
“I could ask the same of you,” he said weakly.
James then arrived and examined their new passenger. “He appears to have spent but a few hours in the water,” he declared. “Can you stand, old man?”
“Aye. Though I am hardly old.” Andrew struggled to get to his feet, and Celia moved quickly to his side to support him.
“Now isn’t the time to go into it all, Father,” she said. “Let’s get you to the doctor’s quarters.”
“Father?” James repeated. Gayle simply shrugged and followed them all below deck.
“Father, I wrote you how I’ve come to be here. You did get my letters, didn’t you?”
“Aye,” he murmured. “I can’t believe ’tis really you, girl.”
“Did you come in search of me?” she asked hopefully as she led him through the doorway of James’s quarters.
All Andrew could do was nod.
James entered with a ladle of drinking water. “Here, have some of this.”
Andrew swallowed it eagerly and sat on the cot breathing heavily and completely soaked.
“Are you wounded anywhere, old…er…man?” James asked awkwardly.
“I don’t believe so.”
Gayle instructed Frederick to get Andrew a dry change of clothing, and the lad sprinted off to do so. She then bade everyone leave except for herself, James, Celia, and her father, shutting the door behind them.
Celia sat beside her father and hugged him. “How did you end up in the ocean, Father?”
Andrew took a deep breath. “I had hired a ship’s crew to find you in New Providence, as your last letter said that’s where you’d be. The blackguards threw me overboard after stealing a king’s ransom from some other poor blighters. The reward I offered is a paltry pittance to them now, it seems.”
“And what ship would that be?” asked Gayle. “What ship stole this ‘king’s ransom’ and then sent you by the board?”
Andrew blinked several times. “The Belladonna, sailed by one Captain Fuks.”
James glanced at Gayle. “Have you heard of this…Fuks?”
Gayle shook her head. “I’d remember a name like that. Where did you meet him?”
“In a tavern in Florida. He agreed to help me rescue my daughter from pirates in exchange for five hundred gold pieces.”
“But you came with him?” Gayle asked.
“Aye, as I dare not trust a mercenary with my only daughter. But they returned with some other lass. Molly someone or other.”
“Trice me,” Gayle exclaimed. “You saw Molly?”
“Aye,” Andrew answered tiredly. “A real vinegar-pisser, that lass.”
“That’s definitely her,” James said.
“Do you know where they were headed?” Gayle asked.
He shook his head. “But they come from a pirate haven in Baracoa, Cuba. Mayhap they are headed back there to sell their booty.”
“Mayhap,” Gayle repeated softly. “And Molly? How does she fare?”
“I know not. Though she was bound, it would take a braver man than I to engage her.”
“That’s my girl,” James said.
A knock at the door proved to be Frederick, arriving with a set of dry clothing. Gayle took the garments and handed them to Andrew. “Here you are. Change into these and you’ll feel a world better.”
“My thanks,” he uttered. “But now I must find the hard-hearted cur who has despoiled my daughter.”
“Pardon?” asked Celia, whose stomach lurched.
“The courier who brought your last missive said you had taken up with the captain of this vessel, Celia. Is that true? Has a ruthless reprobate stolen your chastity?”
Celia was very uneasy and awkwardly fumbled for an answer. “Stolen is such a harsh word, Father.”
Andrew leapt to his feet. “I’ll run the scoundrel through!”
“You would think a doubloon would be enough to buy a little discretion,” Gayle mumbled to James. “What is this world coming to?”
“Easy, Mr. Pierce,” James interjected, pushing the weary man back into a sitting position. “There’s no need to run anyone through.”
“Tell me I’m misinformed, Celia,” he bade her. “Assure me you’re as unsullied as the first days of spring.”
She grasped his hands reassuringly and gazed into his eyes. “Would you settle for some time in midsummer?” she asked optimistically. “Perhaps July or August?”
“Ahh,” Andrew bellowed, jumping to his feet again. “I’ll cut out the mongrel’s heart and eat it!”
“June,” Celia amended. “I meant more like June.”
James again stepped forward to placate Andrew.
“You’re wholly tactless, aren’t you?” Gayle whispered as she leaned near Celia’s shoulder.
“Show me where your captain is,” Andrew demanded. “I’ll show him a thing or two at the tip of a blade.”
“Sir,” Gayle said. “I am the captain of this vessel.”
Andrew fell completely silent and stood agog, unmoving.
“Captain Gayle Malvern,” she introduced herself calmly. “Your daughter was good enough to help us tend to our wounded and mend our sails. No one has accosted or manhandled her in any way since she boarded this ship. It was I who sent you the doubloons attached to her missives, and it is I who beg your forgiveness now for the callous and desperate way in which she was spirited away into the night.”
“Well said,” Celia whispered back.
“So ’tis true,” Andrew finally rasped. “Your Molly said the captain was a woman, and so she is. I thought it was just the rantings of a fearful trollop.”
“Please, sir,” Gayle continued. “Change into something dry. You and your daughter have a good deal of catching up to do. In the meantime I’ll arrange something for you to eat. For now, I must take my leave as we need to mark a course for Baracoa.”
Gayle turned and left the room, leaving a rather tense and baffling atmosphere behind amidst Celia, her judgmental father, and the ill-at-ease doctor.
*
As Andrew reclined on a cot in the doctor’s quarters, he continued to pore over all that had happened to him in the past month. How had he lost control of his family? How had everything gone awry so suddenly?
After a knock at the door a petite, blond girl entered holding a bowl of some type of food.
“Beg your pardon, sir,” she said politely. “I’ve brought you a morsel to eat.”
Andrew was unable to offer thanks, so he sat up and simply nodded at her. She carried the steaming bowl to him and presented it.
“What is this?” he asked softly, not recognizing the smell.
“Boucan stew,” she answered modestly. “It’s actually quite good.”
He tasted a small spoonful and found it somewhat on the salty side, but definitely edible. “And who are you?” he asked finally, in afterthought.
“Anne Keegan—the doctor’s sister.”
“Blimey, there are thirty lasses on this ship if there’s one,” he said, slurping up another spoonful.
“The captain agreed to take my brother to Jamaica for a small fee so he could rescue me from a slaver who had abducted me,” she explained. “My brother James is a brave and cunning hero.”
Andrew squinted at her as he chewed. “You mean that bloke who was in here earlier? The tall, pasty fellow?” He remained skeptical.
“Aye,” she assured him, nodding vigorously. “He followed my captor across the whole of the Caribbean and then single-handedly defeated him and his crew of drunken whoremongers.”
“Is that so?” he asked. Anne nodded again. “However did he manage that?”
Anne searched the ceiling for inspiration. “He is a master swordsman, you see. As well as a successful doctor—terribly rich, really.” She decided the thicker she laid it on, the better. “Of course, now he’ll never truly be happy.”
“And why, dear girl, is that?”
“Alas, he has fallen in love with your daughter, though she does not give him the regard one might give a gnat. I know not why.”
“He’s in love with Celia?” Andrew seemed to be having difficulty grasping all this.
“Hopelessly so. If only there were a way to get her to see the depths of James’s adoration for her, but she seems to only wish to spend time with the captain for some reason…most odd.” She scrutinized his face for a reaction.
“Aye, most odd,” he echoed with a scowl.
“I keep trying to tell my brother that if Celia will not have him, there are hundreds of genteel ladies who will. After all, is not a doctor a worthy prize?”
“You might be surprised,” he mumbled into his stew.
“Pardon?”
“I have learned that money does not ensure character, my girl.”
“But James simply oozes character,” she blurted. “It’s coming out of every hole he’s got.”
Andrew crinkled his nose. “I see.”
She froze for a moment as she analyzed her last statement. “Let me reword that.”
Just then James returned to the room carrying a bucket of soapy water. “Ah, greetings, Anne. How fare ye?”
“Quite well, brother dear,” she replied in a singsong voice. “He does worry about me so,” she explained to Andrew offhandedly. “His heart is so full of compassion.”
James frowned and put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Had a little too much of the demon rum?”
She laughed in embarrassment. “You’re so amusing, brother. He has a wit that rivals no other,” she boasted. “Mr. Pierce and I were just speaking of how wonderful you are.”
James was obviously befuddled. “Oh?”
“Aye,” Andrew added. “You fence?”
“Not at all, I fear, sir. I’m completely useless when it comes to anything of a physical nature.”
Anne put her hand on James’s shoulder and gouged her fingernails into his flesh through the fabric of his shirt. He shrieked in pain like a little girl.
“He’s so modest,” she explained insincerely, continuing to purposely maim him. “I’ve already told of your master swordsmanship, James, so don’t deny it.”
“You great bitch!” He wrung himself from her grasp, completely oblivious to what she had just said. “That’s bound to leave a mark.”
Andrew seemed baffled and amused at the same time. “Tell me, sir, is it true your sister was abducted by slavers?”
He looked as though he were going to answer the question, but when Anne reached for him again, he spun away defensively. “Aye,” he finally replied, while staring at Anne in great annoyance. “Captain Malvern was good enough to liberate her at my behest. Though now I’m beginning to question my judgment.”
“A woman saved your sister from slavers?” Andrew appeared both horrified and incredulous.
“Aye, but you’ll find t
he captain is no ordinary woman.” Anne made an angry face at him. “As my sister can most heartily attest,” he added. “She’s quite taken with her.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Twilight was descending around Original Sin as the ship rushed to catch up to the Belladonna to retrieve both capital and comrade. Gayle stood on the quarterdeck, staring to the fore and hoping to catch a brief glimpse of their quarry—any sign they were on the right track.
“How fare ye?” came a concerned inquiry from behind her.
Gayle turned to see Celia—wind whipping her chestnut hair behind her and pressing her billowy blouse to her body in all the right ways. “The shoulder still pains me, though you gladden my mood. How is your father?”
“He is well, for a man cast o’erboard and left to perish in the depths of the sea.”
“And did you explain to him all that has befallen you in these last fortnights?”
“I started to—”
“And how far did you get?”
“He became extremely angry when I told him of Phillip’s acquiescence during my abduction. So I told him to lie down and rest, and I would come to him later and continue the tale.”
Gayle was stunned. “You’ve a mouthful or two more to regale him with, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would…I do,” Celia admitted.
“In fact, I daresay that you’ve left out the most noteworthy parts. Did you even reach the point where you were brought on board?”
Her eyes darted heavenward. “Not as yet, per se.”
“Do you mean to tell him the story by giving him a new word each day? At this rate you’ll be fifty before you get to the naughty bits. Is that your plan? You hope to outlast him?”
“It’s not that,” Celia said, with a heavy sigh. “Would you not agree that the man has had a rather unpleasant day?”
“An understatement, I’d say. But mightn’t what he is not hearing be even worse than what you might tell him as the truth?”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine it, love. He has heard many an unsavory rumor. Couple with this, your frank admission earlier of lustily tumbling into the licentious dog days of summer.” Celia bit her thumbnail and groaned. “What amoral and wanton depravity do you think he has envisioned? Would most people not assume the very worst?”
The Sublime and Spirited Voyage of Original Sin Page 17
