Dressed in pale-yellow silk, with her red-gold curls piled high on her head, Cathy was a vision to rival the sun the next morning. As soon as she had completed her toilette she rushed up on deck to see if she could catch a glimpse of the approaching ship. She saw it as soon as she reached the rail. It looked like a beautiful ship, far different from the flat, military vessel on which she was traveling. Under full sail, the other ship was as graceful as a bird, and its proud, high prow rode the waves with ease. It grew larger as Cathy watched, entranced, and she realized that it was closing on the Anna Greer with amazing speed.
“It … it’s so beautiful!” she murmured aloud, as the blond sailor she’d met the night before came up beside her.
“She is that,” he said. “But Captain Hogg. … Well, he don’t remember that the Frogs had a ship like that under sail, and she’s flying a French flag. She looks more like one of them new clipper ships, from New England out in the colonies. Until we find out for sure, the Captain requests that you ladies retire to your cabin. Just in case, you know.” He squirmed uncomfortably as Cathy turned to look at him.
“What do you mean, in case? What does Captain Hogg think it is? Not … surely not … pirates!” Her voice rose on the last word, and the sailor stared down at her, alarmed. The last thing they needed, with a possible pirate ship closing in, was an hysterical woman. He swallowed, and spoke up hastily.
“No, ma’am, probably not. The Captain just wants to make sure … just in case, you know. Most likely she’s just a new ship we’ve not seen before. But until we find out, it’d be healthier for you ladies in your cabin.” He turned to Martha, who had just come up on deck, and repeated the warning. Then, in response to a hail from the quartermaster, he hurried away.
“Miss Cathy, we must go below at once!” Martha said, clutching at Cathy’s arm and attempting to drag her away from the rail by main force.
“I’m not going anywhere, Martha, so you can just let go of me!” Cathy cried, and shook off Martha’s hand with determination. “I want to be up on deck where I can see whatever happens. You know yourself we’d both go crazy down in the cabin, not knowing what was happening or if it was a pirate ship. No, there will be time enough to go below if trouble starts.” She shook her head decidedly, and Martha, long familiar with the stubbornness of her charge, gave up arguing. Sir Thomas should really have done something about Miss Cathy’s willfulness years ago. Now it looked as though it might get them both killed! Angrily muttering, Martha remained at Cathy’s side.
The ship drew steadily closer until Cathy was able to make out the name, Margarita, painted in bold black letters across its prow. She could see men, looking no bigger than ants, scurrying about the deck. On the quarterdeck a lone figure motionless, staring across at the Anna Greer through a spyglass.
As Cathy watched, the fluttering square of silk that had been flying at the Margarita’s flagpole was slowly lowered. In its place rose a black flag which was all too obviously the emblem that had been described to her at sedate afternoon teas. When she had heard about the black flag and what it stood for, Cathy had said proudly that she would never be afraid of any pirate, and that, indeed, she would quite like to meet one. Now her fear was like an iron band closing around her throat, cutting off her breath.
“Miss Cathy, it’s pirates! Pirates! Oh, my land, Jesus and his saints preserve us! What shall we do?” Martha’s hand was cold with fear as she pulled on Cathy’s wrist. “We must go below, Miss Cathy! There’s going to be fighting up here!”
“Wait a minute, Martha. I must see … maybe they won’t fight.”
Even as she spoke, a cannon roared, a round black missle soared high in the air and then arched back until it hit the water with a loud splash.
“They want us to surrender!” came the cry from the crow’s nest.
“May the fishes feast on my bones if we do!” roared Captain Hogg. “If they want a fight, we’ll give ’em a fight!”
He clambered down from the quarterdeck and strode furiously toward the forward cannoneer, bellowing urgent directions to his men.
“Take your positions! Load that cannon! The bastards’ll wish they’d stayed home planting crops after this fight, I fancy!”
The captain caught sight of Cathy and Martha standing as though frozen to the deck and swore roundly. He stamped across to them and looked them over for a moment in silence. When at last he spoke, he made an obvious effort to be courteous.
“Lady Catherine, Miss Jameson, you must go below at once!” His control deserted him abruptly. “Damn it, there’s going to be fighting up here! With real guns and ammunition! Don’t you women have any sense? Get below, and lock yourselves in your cabin!”
He turned on his heel and marched away, not trusting himself to say more. Martha tugged frantically at Cathy’s hand as another cannon roared from the pirate ship.
“Miss Cathy, we’ve got to get below! You heard Captain Hogg! And they’ve started shooting! Please, Miss Cathy!”
Martha sounded terrified, and Cathy didn’t blame her. She was frightened half to death herself, and she allowed Martha to drag her toward the open hatch. Just as they reached the opening the cannon from both ships boomed simultaneously. Cathy swallowed a sob. This would be a wonderful tale to tell in a London drawing room, modestly downplaying her own heroic bravery; but what if the pirates should actually succeed in capturing the ship? Would they all be murdered, or worse?
Of late, the sadistic cruelty of pirates toward passengers and crew members of captured ships had been a favorite topic of conversation among the ladies of Portuguese society. They whispered of women being stripped naked, searched for loot, and then raped by entire pirate crews. If the women were young, and pretty, the pirates might let them live until they reached some port and let them go. Or they might throw them over the side to drown after having had their way with them. Listening to these tales, Cathy had felt a pleasant shiver of excitement go down her spine. But now … now it might happen to her! Suddenly the prospect did not seem exciting—it was terrifying.
“Dear God,” she prayed. “Please help me. I’ll be so good, if only you’ll help me.”
“But of course they won’t win,” she comforted herself, thankful for the first time that her father had insisted on putting her aboard a military ship like the Anna Greer. It would certainly be impossible for a motley crew of pirates to capture such a heavily armed vessel!
Martha, nervously clucking, herded Cathy inside the small cabin that they shared. Cathy crossed to one of the narrow bunks and sank down upon it while Martha bustled about, first bolting the door, then piling all the movable furniture in the room up against it. Cathy laughed out loud. The furniture looked so funny, piled up against the door that way! Martha looked at her sharply.
“You’ll not be gettin’ hysterical on me, will you, Miss Cathy? There’s no need to be frightened. Like as not, them devils will never even set foot on this ship.”
But even as Martha spoke, the harsh shriek of wood scraping on wood told a different tale. The pirates were trying to board the ship! Hoarse cries and the clang of steel against steel rang out loud as the pirates threw grappling hooks to hold their prey, then rushed the crew of the Anna Greer in a body. The roar of the cannon shook both ships and Cathy felt the Anna Greer heel sharply to port as a cannon ball found its mark in her side. Then came a sound like rain against a tin roof as bits of metal from a cannon ball raked the deck of the Anna Greer like hail. Screams of men in mortal agony made Cathy turn white, and Martha quickly clapped her hands over the girl’s ears.
“Don’t you listen now, my lovely. Don’t you listen,” she crooned, rocking the terrified girl back and forth in her arms.
The sounds of the battle raging above them grew more terrible. Cathy broke into tears and clutched at Martha frantically, pressing her head into the woman’s ample bosom and sobbing as though she were seven instead of seventeen. Martha held her tightly, and Cathy took absurd comfort in the childish conviction that if Mart
ha were there nothing bad could happen to her.
The fighting continued for what seemed like hours. In the close confines of the cabin Cathy and Martha lost all track of time. Hoarse screams and the rattle of gunfire made them hide their heads under their pillows. But finally, and abruptly, there was silence.
After a long, agonized moment in which both women strained to hear any sounds that would tell them the outcome of the battle, Cathy sprang to her feet, clenching and unclenching her fists. She had to know. She couldn’t bear not knowing. She began to walk toward the door like a sleepwalker. Martha scrambled after her, catching her around the waist and attempting to pull her back to the safety of the bunk.
“Let me go!” Cathy cried. “I have to get out of here! I can’t stand it! Please let me go!”
She tried to wrench herself free but Martha hung on grimly.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the cabin. They both froze, eyes and ears trained on the door. The same question burned in both their minds. Who had won, the crew of the Anna Greer, or the pirates?
The bolt rattled as someone on the outside tried to get in.
“Hey, Quincy, it’s locked! Over here!” The voice was hoarse with excitement.
Cathy swallowed convulsively, her knees suddenly weak. She sank back down upon the bunk, clinging to Martha for support. That voice, with its strange, twangy accent, certainly did not belong to a member of the Anna Greer’s crew. The pirates had taken over the ship!
“Everything’s going to be all right, Miss Cathy,” Martha whispered fiercely. “The good Lord will see to that. Just you be quiet now and hide yourself in that wardrobe. Martha’ll keep ’em off.”
Cathy protested tearfully, but Martha dragged her over to the tall oak wardrobe and thrust her firmly inside. Cathy stumbled, half falling in the suffocating darkness. There was barely enough room for her to stand upright. Martha closed the wardrobe door without a sound and Cathy heard the click of the latch as it slid into place. She whimpered, like a small, frightened animal. Martha whispered to her reassuringly through the thin panel.
“Everything’ll be all right, my lovely. You’ll see. Just you be quiet in there and look to yourself. Martha’ll take care of you.”
Cathy could hear Martha’s footsteps receding as she moved away from the wardrobe. Left alone in that small space, Cathy was terrified. She shook with fear, and had to press both hands tightly against her mouth to stifle her sobs. Her heart was beating so loudly that she was certain it would burst through her chest, at any moment. She could hear the pirates, outside in the hallway, as they began to hammer on the door.
“Open up in there!” the thickly accented voice ordered.
“Open up in there or we’ll set fire to the door!”
A heavy crash shook the entire cabin, and Cathy’s heart lurched sickeningly. The pirates were going to break down the door!
She sank abruptly to her knees. Her legs felt like they had suddenly turned to water. Her teeth chattered with fright.
“Please, God,” she prayed mindlessly. “Please, oh, please!”
Another crash shook the cabin. Then another. And another. When a last splitting sound announced the surrender of the door, Cathy thought she was going to faint. Only the thought of being helpless in the hands of savages kept her conscious. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she had to stuff her skirt into her mouth to muffle the sound of her ragged breathing.
“I must stay calm,” she told herself firmly. “If I make a sound, they will surely find me.”
From the other side of the partition, Cathy heard grunts and the tramp of heavy feet as the pirates surged into the room. She heard Martha’s voice, shrill now with fright, as she berated the invaders.
“Get ye gone, ye heathens!” Martha shrieked. “The good Lord will smite ye with his sword for this day’s work!”
Martha’s words ended with a gurgle. There was the sound of a blow, and then a thud as though something heavy had fallen to the floor.
“Oh, dear God, no!” moaned Cathy, wanting to rush to Martha’s defense but knowing that it would be worse than useless.
Although she strained to hear, there was no further sound from Martha. Cathy listened with helpless terror as the pirates tore the cabin apart. They left nothing undisturbed in their search for valuables, and Cathy knew it was just a matter of moments before they looked into the wardrobe. She hid herself as well as she could amidst the clothes that hung there, but she knew she would be immediately visible to anyone who chanced to open the door.
She heard footsteps approaching and braced herself. This was it.
The door to the wardrobe was jerked open. Light flooded in. The flushed, bewhiskered face of a man old enough to be her grandfather blinked at Cathy bemusedly. His teeth, exposed in a wide grin, had rotted to black stubs. Cathy shuddered, straining as far back into the recesses of the wardrobe as she could. She screamed as the pirate closed one grimy hand over her arm and dragged her from her hiding place.
The old man chuckled at her screams, and pulled her tightly against him, attempting to press his wet mouth to her lips. His breath was fetid and Cathy’s stomach heaved with revulsion. She fought him fiercely, silently, too sick with fright to force enough air into her lungs for a scream. He sniggered, clearly enjoying her struggles, and held her out at arm’s length while he lewdly ogled her from head to toe.
“Ain’t she a beauty?” he marveled over his shoulder, and Cathy saw that there was another man who was bending over Martha’s crumpled form. The second man straightened at his companion’s words, and stared at Cathy with undisguised desire.
“By God, Quincy, she is that! We best hurry up and take a turn on her before the Cap’n gets a gander at her! We likely won’t get another chance!”
“My thoughts exac’ly!” chortled Quincy, and he released his hold on Cathy’s arm only to lock his hand over the neck of her gown and jerk downward with all his might.
The thin silk gave with a loud rip, and Cathy’s muslin chemise ripped with it. She stood exposed almost to the waist. She looked at the two leering men with dawning horror. It was true, then, about what happened to ladies taken prisoner by pirates! Her reflections were cut short abruptly as Quincy reached out a hand to fondle her breasts. At his touch Cathy screamed like a demented creature, and tried frantically to pull away. The man giggled, on fire for the wench already, and his companion laughed out loud, adjuring him to be quick about it.
Quincy jerked her up against his chest, locking her hands behind her back as he pawed at her breasts. He tried again to kiss her, his slimy tongue leaving a wet trail across her face. She felt as though she would vomit.
“For God’s sake, get on with it!” the other man urged hoarsely, wetting his lips as he stared at Cathy’s naked bosom.
Quincy began to force her down on the bunk, and Cathy fought him with a strength born of terror. She bit him, her teeth sinking deep into his hand, and when he jumped back she managed to free one hand and rake her nails viciously across his face. He swore, and balled his fist, ready to knock her unconscious and have done with the fight. Cathy screamed desperately one last time.
“What in sweet hell is going on down here?” a man’s voice demanded harshly.
“God, Quincy, it’s the Cap’n!” gasped the watcher, and the old man dropped Cathy as though her flesh had suddenly burned him.
She caught her breath in an outraged sob, and swung her hand in a wide arc that found its mark below Quincy’s ear. He yelped, jumping back, and Cathy stormed after him to press home the attack. But she found her hands caught from behind in a grip like iron, and kicked and fought in a blind panic against her new captor.
“That’s enough!” the unseen man said sharply, and the hands that held her shook her until she thought her head would fly from her shoulders. When at last she was still, the shaking stopped, and she looked up to meet the coldest, most merciless eyes she had ever seen in her life. They were gray, as hard as the granite they resembled, and their expression
was distinctly menacing. The face that went with them was no less so, and Cathy trembled under its stern regard. When the man saw that she meant to stand quietly, he transferred that unnerving gaze to the two men. Cathy still stared at him, transfixed.
His hair was coal black and wavy, and his skin was dark too, in odd contrast to those icy gray eyes. His nose was long and arrogant, and his mouth was a thin, cruel line. He looked at least thirty, and Cathy could feel enormous strength in the grip he kept on her hands. His arms and shoulders were thick with muscles, and he was very tall. He was also one of the handsomest men she had ever seen in her life.
The two sailors cowered under his gaze, and he contemplated them with a frightening calm. Quincy started to speak, then fell silent as the captain’s face darkened ominously. After a moment, his hard gray eyes swung back toward her, and Cathy hastily lowered her gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly as they took in for the first time her beauty, and lingered on the display made by her heaving bare breasts. Cathy colored hotly when she realized where his eyes rested, but she had no means of covering herself and was forced to remain passive under his regard. After a long moment he took his eyes away.
“Quincy, O’Halloran, I gave orders that all prisoners were to be treated with consideration. ‘Consideration’ does not include forcible rape. Nor does it include physical violence against an old woman,” he added, seeing Martha for the first time as she groaned. Cathy pulled away from his hands and ran to Martha at the sound. He looked after her briefly, then returned his attention to his men.
“But, Cap’n, we was only …” Quincy whined, then fell back a pace at the naked fury in his captain’s eyes.
“Be quiet!” he said coldly, and then shouted a new command. “Harry!”
A young man, impeccably dressed in the garb of a second officer in the British navy, hurried through the door and saluted smartly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Escort these men back to the Margarita. I’ll decide what to do with them later.”
Island Flame Page 2
