Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

  “May I join your sport, Sir?”

  Chillingly, Hook returned the doctor’s stare. As he did so, he removed the vessel from Hanover’s grasp. He drank from it, then, with deliberation, replaced the cup in Jill’s hand.

  The men around and above them had fallen silent, watching warily. They breathed a collective gasp as the doctor seized the captain’s cup from Jill’s fingers— and drained it. Hanover passed it behind him. Liza, discreet now but never far from the captain, collected it. Earnestly, Jill shook her head at the surgeon, once.

  Hook no longer smiled, even half-way. He said, “Your audacity implies more than sport.”

  “However you wish to view it.”

  “A gentlemen’s match?”

  “I fight for my freedom. No less.”

  “Am I to understand, Doctor, that you are challenging me?”

  “Have I surprised you at last, Captain? Another surprise, then, to raise the stakes. If you best me, I will swear your oath of loyalty.”

  Jill stared at him, and then at her captain. Hook lifted an eyebrow. “You are confident, Hanover, but which is it? Do you consider me worthy of your service, or unworthy of your blade?”

  “Try me and see.”

  “A duel, then.”

  “With foil or with sword. The choice, Sir, is yours.”

  “Your preference, Jill?”

  “Captain! Foils, if you please!” Her face was shocked, but exhilarated. Hearing the tone of her voice, Nibs and Tom wiped their faces and shoved their way forward, to stand staunch on either side of her. They and the others watched in curiosity to see what the captain would do to this reckless man.

  Hanover said, “Foils, then, to please the lady. It is the one goal we share, isn’t it, Captain?” He backed toward the open space, toward the mainmast, and raised his foil. Its stubbed tip didn’t waver.

  Advancing on his opponent, Hook reached out to receive his sword from Smee. “The weapon of choice is foils, Hanover.” He sauntered toward the surgeon, his face at a dangerous angle. “Belay the language, and have at it.”

  Since the morning of his capture, Hanover had been eager to fight this pirate. He sprang into action. The foils clashed, dully. Their blunt edges lacked the ring of finality the doctor craved, but he would have his satisfaction. Hanover thrust forward, determined in so doing to thrust back onto his captor the humiliation he had suffered. His feet worked gracefully to support the motion of his sword. With the taste of Hook’s wine on his tongue, he pressed into Hook’s space, aware of his lady’s attention.

  Hook fell back, subduing his temper to accomplish his purpose. Humoring the mood of his surgeon, he observed. He intuited. Following the attack with defensive action, Hook evaluated the man’s strategy. He bided his time, learning. As Jill had informed him, this doctor proved an excellent swordsman. Hook felt her watching them both, and he smiled. The man was, indeed, a worthy opponent.

  Smee viewed the pair with interest, revering his captain, but not forgetting his duty to keep an eye on the mistress. Casting a glance toward her now, he looked twice. He saw Jill gripping Nibs’ arm and staring at the duelists with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. Surely, Smee wondered, she couldn’t be fearing for the captain? She must know he’d not be beaten! Or was her concern— impossible as it was to imagine, was her concern for the other party? Smee eyed the surgeon, who wore a frigid but confident smile.

  Standing behind her mistress, steadying her tray, Liza couldn’t see the lady’s expression, but she recalled the vision of Jill smoothing the surgeon’s hair into place. The girl watched her captain, wishing to do the same for him when the battle was over, to untie the silken scarf and finger his long wavy hair. For now, she gloried in his mastery of the art. Surely, here was a man who could best her father!

  As the match wore on, the sailors recovered their boisterousness, encouraging both contenders in the spirit of sportsmanship, and raising their voices in approval as each man demonstrated his expertise. Those aloft inched lower, as the seabirds screamed and the ship bore its company battling over the waves.

  Hanover was no novice. It took some moments to adjust to the left-handed moves, but he had already gauged Hook’s skills from the preceding demonstrations. He knew the captain was baiting him now, assessing him. On guard for advances from the hook that floated at the captain’s side, far sharper than these dull practice implements, the surgeon balanced his movements. Hanover held himself in check, pushing Hook, goading his foil, waiting for the pirate to throw himself into the fray.

  That moment came, just as Hanover anticipated, when it should have been least expected. Hook reversed himself, suddenly ceasing to deflect the doctor’s charge, and whirling to attack him from the side. Jumping away, Hanover parried as, serious now, Hook bore down without mercy, determined to force his foe backward toward the mast.

  But Hanover had seen him pull this trick with Tom. He dodged, then he circled so that Hook spun and it was Hanover now who pressed his opponent back upon the mast. Hook wouldn’t allow it. Feinting to the left, he distracted the doctor just long enough to leap to the right.

  From then on, the duel was a dance. Hook threw himself forward, hurtling up the deck, driving the doctor before him, then pivoting and giving way as the doctor waltzed him backward. The adversaries engaged, turning round and around, charging fore and aft along the deck, first one, then the other holding sway. Both men smiled, the light of competition in their eyes, gray and blue fires, feet scuffling, their shirts roiling up and down the ship like whitecaps on a beach. Neither man tired, neither gave way, and Jill watched in an ecstasy of delight and concern, her breaths coming sharp in her lungs.

  The crewmen fell back to make room as the duelists flew toward them, then the pair swiveled away to bounce off the gunwales. Thrusting at the same time, their foils locked together at the grips. They wrestled, and Hook braced his feet to give a tremendous heave, propelling Hanover to slam his back against the mast. Hanover exhaled and shook his head, and shoved away to beat Hook backward toward a cannon. Hook hit the muzzle and rolled along it, to spring out again with redoubled effort. Their lungs heaved with exertion, and still they kept on, hacking and clanging their swords together.

  Always aware of the lady, Hanover stole a glance at Jill. His next move made her gasp. He plunged the point of his foil at Hook’s belly, forcing the captain up on his toes to pull back, doubling over. In the next instant, Hanover swiped at Hook’s jaw. Barely in time, Hook yanked his spine straight, flinging out his claw to steady himself. But Hanover’s blade slashed again, at Hook’s cheek. Hook jerked his head backward, his earring swinging, his flesh intact but his eyes wide with outrage. As he recovered, his eyes narrowed. Lowering his jaw, he drew a deep breath, then thrust with his whole body, launching an assault that drove his opponent back up the deck toward the bow.

  Relentless, Hook’s blade clashed with the doctor’s, yet the doctor persevered— until Hook backed him into the raised grille of the hold. Caught at the heels, Hanover threw out his arms for balance. His blade swung wildly upward. Hook dropped the point of his foil, turned to the side and charged, ramming his shoulder against the doctor’s chest.

  Hanover tumbled backward, landing on his back with a crash of splitting wood. The lattice-work doors of the hold gave and groaned, but held. The wind was knocked from the doctor’s lungs, and he lost his grip on his foil. Hook jumped to the grille and kicked the sword savagely, out of his enemy’s reach. It went scuttling away. Hook stood staring down at the defeated man between his boots. Hanover struggled to suck in air, glaring back at him. The match was over.

  No one was smiling now.

  “A foul move, Sir!” The doctor panted, barely able to speak. “To bodily assault me!”

  “As foul as the move that brought it on.” Hook’s shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. “If you’d had your way, I’d have been ripped open and scarred— by a blunt tip!” He paused for breath. “Hardly an honorable mark to carry from a gentlemen’s
match.”

  The men pressed in around the contenders, all talking at once. Hook didn’t offer to help the surgeon up. Cecco set one foot on the hatch and reached down to him. Yulunga steadied him as he got to his feet. Smee removed the foil from his captain’s hand, and Hook dragged the scarf from his head. Nibs hesitated, then fetched the doctor’s foil, and when the man stood upright, held it toward him. Hanover snatched it from Nibs, his hair loose, the cheek under his dueling scar livid, and his stare still boring into Hook.

  Jill grasped Liza’s arm to pull her along. Clutching a cup from Liza’s tray, she stepped between the men. “Captain. A drink, Sir.” She made sure he accepted it, the scarf fluttering like a banner between his fingers, then she picked up another and looked meaningfully at Hanover. “And you, Doctor, I insist. To cool you.” Tearing his gaze from Hook at last, the surgeon pushed his hair from his face, without Jill’s assistance this time, and seized the drink. He swallowed it, but said nothing.

  “Thank you, Madam.” Hook lowered his empty cup and thrust it away, not caring that Liza took it, or that her fingers caressed his own. He did, however, very definitely mark that Jill waited for Hanover’s cup, to welcome it to her bosom as the man returned it to her. At the moment, Hook chose to tend to business.

  “The oath can wait, Hanover. Or are you prepared to honor your word immediately, and pledge your loyalty to me now?”

  “No. Fair means or foul, I am obligated to honor my promise. But…” In his dishonesty, Hanover couldn’t bring himself to look at the lady. Stiffly, he shook his head. “Not today.”

  With the slightest movement, the surgeon’s new master acknowledged his intention.

  Handing the captain’s swords to Tom, Smee waved the girl away and turned to the men. “All right, we’ve had our fun, lads. Clear the deck and get back to your stations!”

  The sailors dispersed. Those not on duty climbed down from the higher decks and rigging and surged reluctantly off, swiveling their heads to catch a last glimpse of Captain Hook. He remained, immovable, where the fight had ended, his head erect and his legs wide. Hanover turned away. Cecco and Yulunga followed, bearing his weapons. The surgeon’s posture sagged only slightly after his exertion; his head remained high as he made his way below decks, under the captain’s victorious eyes.

  Jill and Smee waited, standing next to Hook. The claw and the peacock scarf dangled at his sides. As a cooling breeze lifted his hair, he observed the doctor’s retreat. When his words emerged, they revealed nothing of his emotion.

  “A satisfactory bout.”

  Smee asked, “Sir?”

  “I now have the measure of the man.”

  Jill watched his face, cool as a statue’s, a cautious, curious look on her own. Smee watched them both as the captain continued.

  “I haven’t a doubt in my mind. Your assessment was correct, Jill. Doctor Hanover will never join us.” Hook paused, his fine features impassive. “Unless he offends me again, I am finished with him.”

  Jill ventured, “He gave you his word he would join us.”

  “He lies.” Still studying the hatch through which the doctor had descended, Hook said, “Madam, do what you have to do. And once you have discovered the secret source of his riches, we will discuss the means by which to dispatch him.”

  Smee absorbed the look on Red-Handed Jill’s face. And then his big hands held her, because she swayed.

  “The game is over,” she breathed. And a sudden urge surged in Smee’s loins as her scarlet fingers clung to his biceps in a manner he mightn’t have resisted— if his captain hadn’t been near.

  Smee swore a promise to himself never to touch her any more, because he might not be able to stop. And then the wind laughed in his face, and that unruly strand of fair hair floated, stroking his neck and tangling in his beard. And next moment, he’d blessed the breeze and broken his promise.

  She rewarded him with a smile. And as she spoke, Smee felt the shock, as if a bucket of ice water trickled its contents down his back. Jill released her hold on the bo’sun and spoke to Hook, coolly this time.

  “I shall require your indulgence, Captain.”

  “When have I ever refused you?”

  “Then you won’t take it amiss, Sir…when I accept the doctor’s diamonds?”

  With a penetrating look, Hook studied her. “Madam. Now that you have prepared me, I shall take it all in stride. And then I will run him through.”

  “Yes. I know.” She wore that dark smile that always incited him. “One way or another, I intend to become a very wealthy woman.”

  Mr. Smee wasn’t sure, then, what he read on her beautiful face. But just now, if he were the captain—

  He’d do exactly what James Hook did. The captain’s lip twitched, and there and then, that powerful man gave his mistress something she wouldn’t forget. Something violent.

  And then, as he steadied her, “Shall we retire, Madam?”

  For fear the tears would overflow, Jill couldn’t speak, and although he’d given ample evidence he could read her thoughts, her captain expected an answer.

  He was the victor. Only one answer could be given.

  She nodded.

  Hook seized her arm and propelled her to his quarters. Nothing stood in his way. The sea was calm, the air spiced with promise— and the deck cleared of obstacles.

  Like the crest of a wave, the evening reached its peak and receded, leaving a residue of sea-blue sapphires encircling the lady’s ankle.

  Her night passed undisturbed.

  Chapter 14

  Deep Waters

  Discernible over the brine came the smell of vegetation— the tang of orange groves, and the balm of palm trees near the shore. With her Dutch flag flying in the breezes, the Jolly Roger rode at anchor in deep waters, just off the coast. Her hatches were thrown open and her men milled around the holds preparing to hoist the goods, securing block and tackle from the masts. Conferring in the master’s quarters while the temptations of the island wafted through the windows, Smee and the captain completed their plans.

  “Cecco and Yulunga are outside, Sir. They’ll be standing guard when the lady and the surgeon come back from their morning constitutional.”

  “Before that, Mr. Smee, a small item to address.” In his most subdued suit of chestnut brown, the captain stood behind his desk. “As Mr. Tootles and Mr. Nibs are as yet unknown, they may join the men rowing you to shore this morning. After you have established that the streets are clear of the law, you will see the young men to the appropriate taverns.” Hook reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden coin. He clapped it on his desktop. “You know what to do.”

  A smile struck Smee’s rugged face as he picked up the coin. “Aye, Captain! I’m knowing exactly what to do.”

  “They have passed their trials in weaponry of all sorts. Male and female. Spend it all.”

  “You’re a generous man, Sir.”

  As a knock sounded on the door, Hook lowered his chin. “That remains to be seen, Mr. Smee.”

  The door opened, and Jill and her suitor stepped in. Keeping close behind the surgeon, Mr. Cecco also entered. Jill nearly flew to Hook’s side and grasped the hand he held out to her. In preparation for strolling the streets of the port town, she had dressed in crocodile skin boots and a long Turkish tunic, black, over loose crimson trousers, embroidered in scarlet and gold about the neck and cuffs. “Captain, it’s a lovely morning! So good to see hills and trees again. When shall we go ashore?”

  “Madam, Mr. Smee will precede us and test the conditions. If the port is friendly, we shall disembark this afternoon. I have much to do before then.”

  “Aye, Sir, and so have I.” Jill had a few discreet letters to write, to London. “I’m to tell you that Mason spotted L’Ormonde approaching. She’s mooring a little way up the coast.”

  “Very good. I expect Captain LeCorbeau will dine with us this evening. I know of one or two establishments that are nearly fine enough for my lady.”

  His l
ady smiled.

  In his modest gray suit, Doctor Hanover stood like a soldier before the desk. Feeling he had waited long enough, he announced, “Well, Captain. I am prepared to begin our arrangement.”

  Hook’s mood remained gracious. He waved his iron claw in an expansive gesture. “A fine day for new beginnings. I look forward to accepting your service, Doctor.”

  “Now that I have made up my mind, I am eager to get on with it, Sir.”

  “As am I, Hanover. I am afraid, however, I must disappoint you this morning.”

  Hanover blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I find it isn’t convenient today.”

  Unable to believe his ears, the surgeon paled under his scar. “But I don’t understand, Sir.”

  “Going over the ship’s articles is a serious matter, on which I judge it advisable to spend some time. Before signing them, you must fully understand the terms.”

  “I have discussed your articles in detail with Mr. Cecco. I believe I already possess a clear understanding of them.”

  “Excellent. Thus you hold some concept of their complexity.”

  “Indeed. And I assure you, I will abide by the rules agreed upon by my shipmates.”

  “And then of course, we must consider the subject of remuneration.”

  “I am certain you will be fair, Captain.” Only the edge of desperation sharpened the doctor’s accent.

  “I appreciate your confidence, but in the interests of all aboard, we shan’t be hasty in determining what percentage you will take from the spoils.”

  “I will not object to any portion you deem proper. Please, do me the honor of accepting my service immediately!”

  Jill avoided looking at her suitor during this exchange. She watched Mr. Cecco instead, knowing he pretended an amiability toward the surgeon that he did not feel. But the Italian’s expression was unreadable, even to the lady. While the other men were occupied, he returned her gaze, and smiled. Her eyes fastened on his golden earrings, which swung a little as he moved his head to admire her exotic attire.