by Andrea Jones
“Captain LeCorbeau, I present Captain Cecco. And his lady, Red-Handed Jill.”
LeCorbeau cut a bow. “Captain. I congratulate you! But, eh, one cannot help but wonder how you came to this position, which a week ago one could not have predicted?”
“The circumstances remain a mystery. Our noble captain disappeared from our midst, and the indications lead us to believe that he is drowned.”
As LeCorbeau listened, he stole quick glances at Jill, studying her without seeming to do so. He observed that although she maintained her composure, her lovely face seemed frozen. Quick to read any emotion he could use to his advantage, LeCorbeau determined Red-Handed Jill was mourning, but wise enough to submerge the fact. The Frenchman arranged his features to sympathize. “Ah, my condolences to all the company! But I see a new regime is now in place. One that, perhaps, will prove fortuitous for one and all.”
“Yes. And as captain of the Roger, I wish to forge a new partnership with L’Ormonde’s master and crew. It is my hope that you will listen to my proposals this very evening, Captain LeCorbeau. Not only will we discuss our mutual profit, but there is another, more personal matter, with which I hope you will assist me.”
Jill winced, but her expression remained pleasant. She and Cecco had prepared their roles for the Frenchman’s benefit— Cecco to be the brutal conqueror, Jill, his helpless inheritance.
LeCorbeau’s cuffs fluttered with his gestures. “But of course, Captain! I should be most honored to host such a meeting, and, eh, assist you in any way possible. And the personal matter? Am I to anticipate…?”
As Jill averted her face, Cecco tugged her closer. “Yes, LeCorbeau. If you will hear me out, your wishes and mine will be fulfilled. As I establish command over the Roger, I must discard some cargo that has proven troublesome to me— but of interest to you.” Jill attempted to pull away from Cecco, but he cinched her waist and gripped her chin. As her eyes rose to meet her captain’s, LeCorbeau perceived two large tears on the brink of spilling. His questions were answered. Cecco smiled coldly at Jill, as if defying her to object. When she remained silent, he released her chin.
LeCorbeau leered. “Vraiment, Monsieur, you have your ship in order! I shall be most happy to discuss the situation with you. Bring your officers, and your cargo. I will now take my leave to make all things ready. Until tonight.” The French captain turned on his heel and signaled to his men. Licking his lips, he paraded over the boards to his ship. Renaud and Guillaume exchanged smirks, then departed after their captain.
As LeCorbeau descended to his own deck, he spun to observe the woman once more. Cecco perused the French ship, admiring, while Jill stood unsmiling at his side, glowing with golden jewelry— and staring at the surgeon. Again, LeCorbeau read the emotions. The angle of her head and the hand at her breast informed him. He smiled.
From all appearances, the man fated to succeed Captain Hook was not, after all, the master of the Roger.
§ § §
The day was ending. As the sun faded, the captain departed the cabin, his dusky gaze turning toward his Jill where she stood before her sons. She looked away and down, at the leather-bound book on his desk. Just below her signature, the surgeon’s was inscribed, brash in its bold lines. Above her name, the ink glistened wet. As she listened for the click of the door, Jill’s soul felt scored, as if the boys had dipped the quill in her heart’s blood before striking out their names. She thought of the anguish she and her sons would soon endure, all for devotion to Hook. The boys at the hands of LeCorbeau, but Jill— sinking into despair, she felt the grasp of the manicured hands that had appropriated her. She pressed her fingers to her temples, her hope fading with the sunlight.
“Please, Ma’am. Don’t take on so.” Tom tried to engage her with a smile. “Nibs and I have always watched over each other. We’ll be fine. And we’ll learn French in the bargain.”
Nibs’ grim countenance cracked a smile. “Aye. Think of it. Mr. Starkey won’t know where to have us when—” He couldn’t finish.
Jill looked up at Nibs. “When you come back?”
Nibs tilted his head.
“The captain hasn’t said anything, even to me, to indicate he would welcome you. You are on your own. When our business is finished and LeCorbeau sails off, we may never see each other again.” Part of her even hoped this was true. Where Jill had to go, she didn’t want her boys to follow.
Taking her hand, Nibs said, “No. He hasn’t asked us back. That’s to be expected. But there’s no point worrying. We’ll all be doing what we have to do, and there’s comfort in that.”
Jill felt the reassurance of his grip. “Aye. What we have to do. Even if it means leaving inclination behind.”
Tom observed her face. “You’ve had a bit of time to get used to our leaving. It’s not your way, Ma’am, to bemoan the unavoidable. Is something else awry?”
Nibs’ gaze fell on Jill’s leather bracelets, and the pinkish skin beneath. “Is it Cecco? Has he punished you for our decision?” The crease between his brows deepened, and his hand strayed to his knife.
“Captain Cecco, Nibs, and no. You mustn’t think it. The captain has been firm, but understanding. He’s not at all pleased with you, but he’s true to his word.”
“He promised to look after you. Otherwise, we’d never leave.”
“Then I’m sorry I told you the truth.”
Tom massaged his scar. “Tell us the truth again. What’s on your mind, besides our going?”
“Concern for the ship. As always.” And the ship’s captains, both of them. How could she do her duty to one, and remain faithful to her accord with the other? Since this morning’s talk with the surgeon, Jill felt smothered by that endless question. Until today, her accord with Cecco seemed the best way to serve Captain Hook. But now…Shaking herself from her apprehension, Jill returned her thoughts to her farewell to her sons, who, like she, were about to risk their safety for Hook’s sake.
She said, “I’d rest easier if I was certain you could fly. But you’ll have to hide that, and who knows if after sailing under LeCorbeau, you’ll be able to summon the spirit? Pleasant thoughts may not be easy to find aboard L’Ormonde. But I’ve given you my counsel. I hope you’ll remember what I’ve advised. And Nibs. Keep this in your pocket.” From within her bodice, Jill pulled a small glass vial.
The young men examined its contents. An amber liquid. Glancing at each other first, they looked inquiringly to Jill.
“It is a sleeping draught. One half teaspoon in a few ounces of water, I’ve been told, will stop a man in his tracks. I hope you never need it, but if you do, you must handle it discreetly. If LeCorbeau understood you’d used it against him…”
Nibs accepted the vial. “I understand. But how do you know this? Do you mean to say you’ve used it?”
“No.” And again, her thoughts turned to the nightmare ahead. “Not yet.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Ma’am? Will we be staying after all?”
“The captain won’t allow it. And he’s promised you to LeCorbeau. No, you have to go. And perhaps it is better if you leave the Roger.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only that I’ve got my duty to do, too, and it’s best to just get on with it.”
Tom said, “We regret to leave you. It’s that much easier that you understand.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” added Nibs, “But take care of yourself. We’ll send word to you, somehow, whatever we find.” But for each of them, the hope of recovering Hook alive was ebbing.
Jill opened her arms, and first Tom, then Nibs, took comfort in their mother’s embraces, one last time. Blinking back her tears, she didn’t try to smile. “We may meet again. Sooner than we think.” She didn’t burden the boys with her knowledge. The certain knowledge, now, that the family would reunite, and soon. Too soon, Captain Cecco would seethe to find the ink still wet in a slash across his lady’s name. One day in the not-so-distant future, Jill would join her sons aboard L’Ormonde. O
n a day they would all regret.
Her wedding day.
§ § §
Yulunga had his instructions. Until Cecco’s return, only the girl was to enter the master’s quarters. Captain Cecco bade his lady farewell in full view of the surgeon, who watched with an air of satisfaction at which Yulunga squinted. Then Cecco and his other officers trouped in twilight across the boards to L’Ormonde, ready to feast, drink, and parley. The boots of Nibs the Knife and Tom Tootles tramped behind the doctor’s softer tread. With their sea chests on their shoulders, the young men alighted and turned to salute the lady. Her eyes followed her son’s orange kerchief as he disappeared down L’Ormonde’s hatch. In two lithe steps, Nibs was gone. Tom took one assessing look around the deck, readjusted his box, and plunged after. Yulunga supervised the stowing of the plank before presenting himself to the mistress. Without a word, she acknowledged the mate, turned, and mounted the darkening steps toward her cabin. As ordered by the captain, Yulunga followed.
“Good evening Ma’am. I will be on guard. Call if you need me.” He closed the door behind her, and waited to try the door once she had locked it.
When Liza pattered up the steps, Yulunga was ready for her. His golden earrings were the first thing she noticed. As her eyes opened with interest, Yulunga grinned.
“Yes, Miss. These are the earrings I promised.”
She reached for one.
He pulled his head back. “No, not until you’ve earned them. And the captain says no man’s to touch you. Yet.”
Liza’s gaze darted along the deck. Most of the men were off duty, below decks or observing the doings aboard the sister ship, whence sounds of merriment were rising. Sliding closer to Yulunga, the girl stretched out a tentative finger. As her touch grazed his chest, Yulunga felt an immediate stirring. He backed a step.
“Captain says you’re to be patient, too, little girl. I aim to see that you are.” But his pleasure shone in his black eyes. “I will be watching. You’ll keep your fingers off the other men, or I’ll see to it those eager hands are clapped in irons again.” As she drew back, scowling, his laugh swelled and his necklace strained against it. “Go in to your mistress, now. It’s the safest place for you.”
Digging for the keys, Yulunga didn’t hide his anticipation. He assured himself of the pearl ring that nestled in his pocket, then strode to the door and knocked. The mistress’ voice, fainter than usual, consented. He unlocked the bolt and waited to shoot it home again once the girl had disappeared behind it. As he watched her saucy backside, his breeches felt the strain of obeying the captain’s order.
The key snapped the lock. Jill didn’t look up.
“Take down my nightdress, Liza. I’m ready to retire.”
The girl did as she was told. She helped the mistress out of her gown and into night attire. As she hung the sapphire taffeta, Liza appreciated its likeness to her captain’s eyes. Her heart soared and sank at the same time. Thanks to a steady application of medicines, Hook was insensible all day. But tonight would be different. Liza had applied an inadequate dose this afternoon, both of water and of potion. For a few hours this evening her father would be occupied elsewhere, and Hook was hers. She wouldn’t fail to stir his desire again, as she had so easily stirred Yulunga’s. And just as she obeyed her mistress now, just as she seemed to obey her father, she would perform every duty her captain commanded.
The surgeon hadn’t missed the keys this morning. Liza had recovered her wits at last, and as dawn etched the sky, she crept to the gun deck to retrieve the brass ring. When her father woke, the keys were in his pocket, just where they should be. Captain Hook had eased last night’s temper in the sleep that proved all too rare for him, and upon his rousing, his surgeon and his thirst forced him to drink the tainted mixture, meager as it was. His chains clinked as he reached for it, for Liza had hidden the flannel strips. His jewel-blue gaze cut through Liza’s soul as he communicated his orders, again. He ignored Hanover, who stood by with his cane at the ready. Parched as he was, Hook paused to concentrate all his will on the girl, silently commanding her obedience. She thrilled as she read his message— deliver the keys, and Hook would deliver his passion. His rising passion.
When Jill’s needs were satisfied, she dismissed the girl. But Liza balked. Looking sly, she turned her back and raised her skirts.
Jill lowered herself to the bunk, puzzled. “Liza? What—” She startled as a thump hit the carpet. From its hiding place around her hips, Liza was uncoiling a rope.
The girl continued to smile as she remembered Yulunga’s forbearance. She had known he wouldn’t touch her. Her advances ensured it. Had the man followed his inclination instead of his orders, he’d have discovered her smuggling. But she would win those earrings— maybe next time, when she returned to retrieve the rope, the ‘key’ to the lady’s chamber.
Watching with a swelling dread, Jill sat stiff. Liza gathered up the coil and bore it to the aft windows.
“No, Liza.”
The girl paid no heed. She raised two windows wide, hooking each of them to the ceiling, then looped the rope around the panel between, and tied it. Her hands were practiced. It was obvious an experienced man had drilled her on the knot. When it was secure, she tested it with a tug, then hoisted the coil and tossed it out to sea. Jill watched it go taut as it stretched to its fullest extent. She imagined its end, dangling just outside the window of the lower middle cabin. Liza poked her head out to inspect her work, then turned to approach her mistress.
“Liza. Tell him— tell him…” But Jill could think of no words. The power to refuse the surgeon had deserted her. The time to thwart him was past. Beyond all things, Jill needed to learn Hook’s fate. Unwilling to allow her servant to see her helplessness, the lady rose to stand, commanding. “Leave me alone.”
Liza curtsied, then pulled a scrap of parchment from her pocket and offered it to her mistress. As Jill reached for it, the girl looked down, then slid her gaze up again to witness the lady’s response. Jill maintained her composure, but her face went as colorless as the parchment she unfolded.
Liza knew what it said. She recited it to herself as she recalled his handsome script, in bold black ink. She had hung over him as he penned it, daring, for once, to rest her palms affectionately on his shoulders as she watched his hand, firm and unyielding. His face had been the same.
Jill’s lips opened as she recognized the writing. Above the rising voices of the party aboard L’Ormonde, Liza heard the lady’s breath catch, just before she stopped breathing altogether.
It was a brief message, a single declaration. One harmless word. The word the man had waited to hear Jill speak. Now the word belonged to him. It was the doctor’s order, and a husband’s command.
Sickening, Jill closed her eyes and crumpled the parchment. She heard his voice as if he stood before her, in place of his daughter. As, with the assistance of his rope, he would stand before her, ready for a bout of love-making— looking handsome, slightly disheveled…and aggressive.
‘Tonight.’
Jill and Liza stared at one another. Both females knew. Nothing remained to stand in the doctor’s way. Not the captain, nor his intimidating mate, nor loyal Mr. Smee. The only thing that could hinder the surgeon’s triumph— tonight— would be a miracle.
Hook’s return.
§ § §
Nibs followed Renaud to the crew deck, Tom on his heels. The young mate was smiling. His master was pleased, and life would be easy for awhile.
“Mr. Nibs. We very much welcome you aboard L’Ormonde. And Mr. Tootles. Already, Guillaume has high hopes of recovery! Your good doctor will tend him this evening, and I am certain he will find my cousin much improved.”
“We’re glad of that, but we just signed up for the adventure. With Captain Hook gone, we wanted a change.”
“Do not be modest, Mr. Nibs. You have earned the captain’s regard. His interest in your career will advance you. He knows you have the necessary qualities to make an officer.”
“As he knew you have.”
Flattered, Renaud grinned. “I cannot deny it! This is the crew deck. Mr. Tootles, here is your hammock, toward the bow. Mr. Nibs, you are to bunk in a private cabin, right next to my own and Guillaume’s.” After assigning Tom a forward hammock, Renaud led Nibs aft, where the two entered a tiny cabin in which Nibs had to stoop to avoid the ceiling. But there were windows, two off the stern. Nibs was satisfied. He could fit through those windows. Tom might squeeze out, as well.
“This is fine, Mr. Renaud. I’m that glad to have my own quarters. I never would have done aboard the Roger.” The only drawback as far as Nibs could see was his proximity to the first and second mates. Nibs knew he’d be watched. And he and Tom were separated. As Tom entered to inspect Nibs’ quarters, the brothers exchanged nods. Each was thinking the same thing. Somehow, despite their distance, they would have to keep in touch.
But Renaud’s next words indicated LeCorbeau’s wishes to the contrary.
“Mr. Tootles, you are assigned to the first shift, starting tomorrow. Get an early night’s sleep, for you’ll be in the rigging at dawn. Mr. Nibs, you are to join the captain’s guests this evening and report for duty at the wheel at second shift.” He smiled. “You are to be granted an honor. The commandant intends personally to supervise you. Come, I will show you to the captain’s quarters, and you will be fêted by the commandant himself!”
Apprehensive already, Tom sent a cheerful signal to Nibs and said good-night. Within half an hour he was playing cards with the rowdy night shift, who had no duties tonight because of the parley. Within an hour he’d learned the French terms for Ace, King, Queen and grog, and he’d added a few francs to his pouch. Tom determined that before long, he’d be ignored by LeCorbeau and well enough accepted by the crew to begin inspecting the holds.
When Tom left, Nibs stowed his sea chest against the bulkhead, there being no room for it at the foot of his bunk. Stuffing his fist in his pocket, he felt the reassuring presence of Jill’s weapon. He wouldn’t need the potion tonight, but he’d keep it with him. With a glance at his quarters, though, and a look at Renaud’s friendly face, Nibs determined L’Ormonde and her crew had much to offer a rising young seaman. He’d make the best of it, until he could find a way back home.
