Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

  “Non!” LeCorbeau pulled Renaud down. As the boat’s hull banged against the ship, he rebuked Guillaume. “It is too much! First my ship, then my companions! How much must I bear?”

  Hook’s silken voice poured balm on the wound. “Mon vieux, I admit you must exert yourself to replace this lovely vessel, but a man with your gifts will have no difficulty recruiting another waif. Or two.”

  “You think to flatter me.”

  “I think to rob you and be rid of you. Until I may rob you again.”

  “You are as arrogant as the surgeon— if more honest.” LeCorbeau’s features slid to a sly expression. “But, eh, what makes you confident that upon our reunion, I will not betray you to the authorities?”

  “DéDé. I now possess two fragrant crates of the lotus flower. Will you be sailing back to Egypt to replace them?”

  LeCorbeau looked away.

  “In any case, mon ami,” Hook continued, “you may rest assured that once at our rendezvous point, I will see you, before you see me.”

  Mustering his pluck, LeCorbeau aimed a stare over Hook’s shoulder. “Alors, there is one I expect never to see again. Captain Cecco, I regret that our partnership must end so radically— in your demise, no doubt. I did have high hopes of you.”

  With Smee on his heels, Cecco approached. “I thank you for the sentiment, Captain, but I advise you to concern yourself with your own fate. You and your dozen men have a long row to France.”

  “Eh! You should have let the woman go.”

  “That, I can never do.” Cecco’s smoky eyes settled on Jill. She returned his gaze, melting, until the tap of advancing boots drew their attention. Cecco said, “But here is a chance to follow your own counsel, Captain.”

  With one hand behind him, Guillaume approached the boat. LeCorbeau gazed fondly on him, blinking a tear from his eye. “Guillaume, you have been dear to me.”

  “Oui, Monsieur. I have felt it. But take this, please. To ease your voyage.” Guillaume smiled shyly as he extended his arm. Amazed, LeCorbeau beheld his fine, aged bottle of cognac. Taking it in his arms, he felt of its fullness. He cradled it like an infant. “Guillaume! My boy! But where did you find this?”

  “Just where it should have been, Monsieur.” Guillaume sent a glance to Tom. “We must have overlooked it.”

  LeCorbeau’s rapture was silenced at the sight of Yulunga, looming suddenly by the boat. In one hand he gripped the girl. In the other, his knife.

  Captain Hook didn’t bother to look at Liza. “Mr. Yulunga, I understand you’ve acquired some property.”

  “Yes, Captain. And I will now restore your own.” Yulunga squatted to spread his kerchief on the deck, then took hold of Liza’s hem. Severing the stitches, he let Hook’s jewels tumble free to sparkle in the sunlight.

  Liza’s gaze rose to study her father. He lay under his coat, bleeding and unkempt. To the others, accustomed to his dignified demeanor, he looked strange, unfamiliar. But to Liza, Doctor Hanover appeared as she often saw him since the night of her mother’s murder: bloody, savage, and scarred. Half her heart took pride in him. The other half quailed.

  Yulunga gathered the corners of his kerchief. Under Jill’s interested eyes, he handed the bundle of jewels to Smee. Towering over his captive, he said, “Well, Miss. As I told you, Red-Handed Jill gave you to me. I have the right to keep you.” Yulunga squinted. “And the sense to let you go.” He squeezed her earlobe under the hewn hair. “Tell me if you will wear my earrings. Tell me with your voice.”

  Alarmed, she gaped at the massive form of Yulunga, then her gaze dropped to her father. She backed from both.

  “No, Miss. You can choose to remain silent for the rest of your life. But you will speak to me, now.”

  Liza felt the stares of the company pressing upon her. A pair of china blue eyes stared, too. Her admirer, the young French sailor, held his bag slung over his shoulder, waiting for her words.

  But only Yulunga spoke. “What master will you serve?”

  As the breeze brought his masculine scent to her, Liza stared at the manacle marks on Yulunga’s wrists. Standing next to him, Hook followed her gaze. He hooked the cuff of his own left sleeve and dragged it back to reveal his arm. With his eyes blazing, he displayed his new-made mark. The stain of chains, bitten into his flesh.

  Liza covered her face. She didn’t have to see the reproach in Captain Hook’s eyes. She felt it within herself. Her complicity with her father had destroyed any possibility of winning the better master’s favor. And even now, she was drawn to the man who demanded her devotion. Raising her bedraggled skirt, she made to climb into the boat beside him.

  “No.” Yulunga set his ebony hand on her arm. “I have to hear you.”

  Concern furrowed her brow as she gestured toward her father.

  “There is no doubt he needs you. What do you need?”

  In answer, she rested her fingers on her abdomen. Her pearls shone lustrous in the sunlight.

  “So you think he’ll allow your baby to be born?”

  And Liza realized the unthinkable; her child, like she herself, lived in danger from its sire. A tiny sound escaped her, an exclamation, in half a syllable. Yulunga anticipated her thoughts, ripping them open like the hem of her skirt.

  “And what of the next child he seeds in you?”

  Her jaw dropped. Racing ahead, her mind envisioned the future. A fine house in Vienna, a hall full of servants. The opera, the theatre, dresses and dinner parties. But with all the privileges before her, Liza’s spirit plummeted. She had no prospects…none of her own. In her father’s opinion, she was sullied, unfit to be anyone’s wife. Or mother.

  And the lady had left him. He would need Liza more than before. As her father, as a respected physician, he would easily imprison her there, in his own country. And now he was a married man. He wouldn’t have his wife— but he would have his needs. His ‘honor’ would prevent him from looking elsewhere. However willingly or unwillingly she partnered the brilliant surgeon, Liza would never be her own woman. Too successful in her aims, she had, indeed, secured the patronage of a very strong man.

  Turning to Yulunga, she recognized another. With her father, her future was assured. With Yulunga, on a pirate ship, anything might happen. He was a brutal man. Selfish, like Liza. He might tire of her. He might murder her. He might—

  Anything might happen.

  “Well, Miss. What is your answer?”

  Liza twisted her mother’s ring. She twisted it off. In a twinkling arc, it sailed over the edge of the boat to beach on the velvet of her father’s coat. Set in their golden band, the two pink pearls glowed there. They looked so chaste, so harmless in the bald light of day. But Liza knew better.

  She faced Yulunga. He stood like an oak tree, tall and domineering. Only time could teach her to manipulate this master. Liza began immediately. In a low, unpracticed voice, she begged him. “Please.”

  The grin spread over Yulunga’s lips. “Yes, Miss—”

  “No.”

  Abruptly, Yulunga turned toward his commander. Captain Hook’s unshaven face looked stern.

  “Miss Hanover has shown unrelenting malignance. She saw to it that my son Tom was beaten. She facilitated her father’s injuries to my lady. As for me, Miss Hanover engineered my abduction, and worse. When her lover demanded I should die— I, the ‘master’ to whom she pledged her devotion— she raised not a finger to preserve me. No. If Miss Hanover now desires to join my company, she must abide by my conditions.” Hook’s gaze scored her. “And I warn you, girl— I will be harsh.”

  Liza’s eyes accepted the challenge. Yulunga recognized that look. This little woman thrived on adversity; Yulunga could provide all the adversity she craved. “Aye, Sir,” he said, “What are your conditions?”

  “Your girl will keep to L’Ormonde, never setting foot aboard the Roger. She will remain in your custody, subservient to your every word. And she will be referred to, from this day, by no other designation than the title she has so deserv
edly earned.”

  “Sir?”

  Hook’s stare bored into Liza. “Do you accept the terms? Shall you decline to espouse your…” he sneered, “affectionate father?”

  Liza nodded. The blond sailor slid his belongings from his shoulder. With Liza’s allegiance now decided, he dropped his bundle on the deck of the ship she had chosen.

  Hook turned one ear toward the girl. “What was that?”

  Liza shrank back, wondering if serving under Hook’s command might prove more slavish than Hanover’s. She took one last look at her father, and then she tried again. She managed two words. “Accept. Sir.”

  “Very well. You will consider yourself Mr. Yulunga’s possession,” Captain Hook’s chest swelled; he took deep gratification in his concluding words, her permanent punishment…“Mrs. Hanover.”

  Liza’s knees buckled.

  Yulunga caught her. “You have no time for weakness— ‘Mrs. Hanover.’ You’ll soon be studying again.” At her puzzled look, Yulunga tightened his grip. “No more miming.”

  She swallowed. “Study?”

  “Captain, with your permission, I propose Mrs. Hanover should prepare to take her father’s place. His medical books are below. It will take some time, but we’ll be needing a surgeon.”

  “An admirable idea, Mr. Yulunga. Mrs. Hanover is intelligent enough. And, to my cost, I have discovered she is not squeamish.” Swinging around to salute LeCorbeau, Hook smiled. “It seems your crew is complete. Do give Doctor Hanover my regards. I wish him every prosperity. Au revoir!”

  LeCorbeau’s eyes tightened. “This one time, I shall prefer the English custom. Good bye.”

  As the cables paid out with the boat, LeCorbeau and his crew sank from sight. Within moments, the cocky little captain could be heard issuing orders. Renaud sat stiffly, peering into a sextant as LeCorbeau flailed his arms, haranguing the oarsmen. His sailors’ blue-coated shoulders leaned forward and pulled back. As they emerged from the shelter of the two great ships, their pigtails blew in the wind. Bouncing in the wide green expanse, the little French boat struck out bravely to try her luck on the brine. DéDé LeCorbeau and his pirate hunters, the saviors of the sea, ventured forth hunting succor for themselves.

  Hook’s increased crew waited, observing him as he stood watching the boat, his torn shirt rippling in the breeze. Jill moved to his side. “Captain.” He looked down on her, unsmiling now. She didn’t presume to touch him, but her eyes asked for answers.

  His gaze shifted to Cecco and his gypsy regalia. Knowing the hour of reckoning was upon him, Cecco came forward to take his place at Jill’s side. Hook studied him, his black hair stirring, his face impassive so that none could fathom his feelings. Guardedly, Cecco returned his stare, and the two powerful men confronted one another. Only the ship’s sounds could be heard over the swishing of the sea. Lying next to her mate, L’Ormonde rode the waves, waiting for her new master’s orders.

  “Mr. Cecco. You took upon yourself the charge of the Roger.”

  “Aye, Captain. For this I cannot apologize.”

  Cecco’s daring met with stony silence.

  “Of all I have done in your absence, I regret nothing.”

  The Roger’s men exhaled. As on the day they chose him, this captain proved a brave man, worthy of their service.

  “Sir,” Cecco said, “under the terms of ship’s articles, I know the penalty I must pay.”

  “Yes. You shall receive the full measure of your merit.”

  Cecco’s dark eyes never wavered. “Captain Hook, I return to you what is yours. Your ship, your crew. My service. These things, I have the power to give.” Cecco shrugged, and the many medallions glittered around his throat. “But one priceless thing I cannot return. She herself must decide.”

  Hook eyed the jewelry that blazed on Jill’s arm. With his hook, he toyed with it, listening as it softly chinked. Under her last black glove, Jill’s flesh tingled at his touch.

  “Appearances speak in your favor, Mr. Cecco.”

  Jill’s heart tore to witness discord between these men. Bound to both, she braced herself, and watched. She knew Captain Hook must secure his supremacy. She was aware, also, that Cecco’s courage knew no boundaries. Her cheeks warmed as, disdaining to plead for himself, Jill’s gypsy proved true to his promise.

  “Although the lady bears my gifts, Captain, she never betrayed you in any way. Always, she remained faithful to her oath.”

  The crewmen shuffled, exchanging glances. When Jill beheld Hook again, his icy eyes were locked upon her lover.

  “A gallant gesture. But unnecessary.”

  Cecco’s broad shoulders relaxed. Hook faced the company and raised his voice. “I want it understood by every man aboard: in all she has done, Red-Handed Jill obeyed my orders. I instructed her, as my partner, to fight to preserve our ship— at all costs. She has done so, using every weapon available. No man will fault her for her actions.”

  Relieved, the men’s tension eased. But as his regard lowered to Cecco again, Captain Hook’s aspect threatened.

  “As you see, Mr. Cecco, I am aware of the exact degree of my lady’s loyalty. And yours. You have used my absence to advance your interests. You usurped my position, undertook my schemes. You commandeered my crew, my ship, my rank— and my queen. Most ambitious.” He raised his hook, rotating it to find the most efficient angle. “What fate do you deserve for such devotion to your captain?”

  Mr. Smee positioned himself behind the gypsy’s back, making ready for orders. The Roger’s men remembered the stripes that Smee had paid out, the scars that lingered beneath Cecco’s vest. Captain Hook hadn’t forgotten. He glanced at his bo’sun. “More than the cat-o’-nine-tails this time, I think. A far more fitting reward awaits you today, Mr. Cecco.”

  “Long ago I swore to serve you, Sir. My intercession with the surgeon might be my last act, but with it, I served you still.”

  “As you say, Mr. Cecco, judgment rests in my rapier.” Hook stepped back, and raised it. With its tip, he pricked Cecco’s throat. “My sword informs me you will never be my sailor again.”

  Cecco’s fists tightened, but he resisted reaching for his weapons.

  “Let all assembled bear witness: I now reclaim what belongs to me. The Jolly Roger is my ship, her crew are my men. But you, Mr. Cecco, will no longer sail her.” With his hook agleam, he cut a flourish. “If you would serve me still, I grant you L’Ormonde. She is yours…Captain Cecco.”

  Cecco cocked his head, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. “‘Captain?’”

  Hook sheathed his sword and extended his hand. “I thank you for your service.”

  Cecco stared at Hook’s hand. Then, as if in trance, he gripped it. Searching his rival’s face, he said, “Captain Hook…”

  Jill seized Hook’s arm. Her eyes glowed as she looked into his. “No. Not Captain Hook.” With loving affection, she pronounced the heady title, “Commodore.”

  “Quite right. We sail as a fleet. The Roger has taken a lady.”

  Cecco almost whispered it, the name of his dream. “My own— Red Lady.”

  “Hardly an even exchange. But the best I shall offer.”

  “Commodore…” Cecco said, “I once claimed to be a more generous man than you. I know now— I was wrong.”

  “I have my limits, Captain Cecco. Pray do not test them. Mr. Smee, get the Roger’s men aboard her.”

  “Aye, aye, Commodore!” Beaming, Smee turned to give the order. “Look alive, now, mates! All hands to the Roger!” The deck soon resounded with eager footsteps as Hook’s sailors headed toward the planks. His bo’sun stood by, waiting to escort the commodore and his lady to their vessel, while Hook issued his command.

  “Captain Cecco, you may set your ship in order.”

  Guillaume signaled and L’Ormonde’s men jumped to attention. Regaining his composure, Cecco studied LeCorbeau’s former mate.

  “Mr. Guillaume.”

  “Oui, Commandant.”

  “I a
ppoint you my second officer. Mr. Yulunga, Mr. Guillaume will assist you to order the crew. In one hour, I want ship’s company on deck.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Yulunga looked down on the dapper second mate. “Mr. Guillaume, assemble the men below for inspection. And you will escort Mrs. Hanover to my quarters.” Yulunga slid her a sideways look. “We must unbury the rest of the commodore’s treasure.”

  Guillaume clicked his heels together. “Yes, Sir. Madame, if you please.”

  But Yulunga stopped him. “No, Mr. Guillaume. You heard the commodore’s order.”

  “My apologies, Monsieurs. If you please— Mrs. Hanover.”

  Blushing with mortification, Liza hastily gathered her unhemmed skirts. When Guillaume offered his arm, she clutched it. Guillaume employed his ready discretion, hustling her away and shouting commands— both French and English. Stealing one last glimpse at the man who outfoxed her father, Liza looked back over her shoulder.

  Yulunga stood staring after her. Moving a step to the side, he crossed his arms and straddled the deck, blocking her view of the commodore. As she descended from sunlight to the softer atmosphere of the crew deck, Liza saw only Yulunga and his intimidating smile. Already, his features were imprinted on her senses. His imposing height, the arms too thick to hang at his sides. His glistening skin, lush voice, his overwhelming presence— Liza licked her lips and leaned more heavily on Guillaume. From toes to fingertips, she felt a nascent sense of power. Liza had learned from her father; power was the ultimate pleasure. When her devotee, the blond sailor, bowed to her, she acknowledged him with barely a nod. She was the first mate’s mistress. And once she mastered a physician’s arts, she might become an officer. She might even concoct a potion of her own. A philter, perhaps, to soothe men’s tempers. For now, she must tidy her dress and her cabin, and then she’d count the minutes until Mr. Yulunga came to her. He would be pleased to find her studying…on his bed.

  The two crews parted with hearty farewells, returning to their respective duties. Like seconds at a duel, Yulunga attended his captain and Smee took his place by the commodore, hands clasped behind his waist.

  Hook stood near the foremast, watching the sailors disperse. At last he turned to Jill, and, finally, he touched her. With a gentle stroke that thrilled her, his hand settled on her cheek. “And now, LeCorbeau’s boat fades from the horizon. It appears to be up to me to console you, Madam, as your husband has deserted you.”