Capture The Wind

by Brown, Virginia

  And just as disconcerting were the simple garments he wore. On any other man they would have been mundane, merely a covering. But on Kit Saber, the fitted black breeches and knee-high boots were an adornment, a showcase for supple muscle and long, lean legs. Angela found herself staring at him. It wasn’t that she’d never seen a handsome man before, because that certainly wasn’t the case. It was just that she’d never seen one so blatantly—well, male. He radiated masculine arrogance; it oozed from every pore, a great many of which were visible beneath a buttonless white shirt open to the waist and leaving bare a large expanse of tanned chest and flexing muscle. She swallowed heavily, confused by the conflicting emotions he produced in her. She should be outraged and terrified, not intrigued. No, it was not the sort of impression that gave her any comfort, and she tore her gaze away from him with a supreme effort of will.

  It had been a half hour at least since they’d been brought above deck, and the pirate captain’s anger had seemed to grow with each passing moment. She wished she could hear their occasional conversation. Only snatches of it could be heard at times, as the pirates were busy in the hold or on the other ship that was tethered to the Scrutiny by grappling hooks. She was very well aware, however, of the hungry glances she and Emily received from grinning pirates as they passed. None had spoken to them, but she had the distinct impression that if their captain gave the slightest signal, they would pounce on the two women like ravening wolves.

  Shivering, she looked away from a swarthy pirate clad in the barest of garments. Knee-length trousers were tattered and hung from his hips by only a prayer, it seemed. He wore a scarf around his head and a huge gold hoop dangled from one earlobe. Other than that, there was an overabundance of tanned, bare flesh.

  Truly, pirates seemed to have no modesty whatsoever. Nor much compunction in leering at helpless female captives. The pirate she’d noticed had paused and was staring at her with unconcealed interest. Nothing in her life’s experience had prepared her for this sort of predicament. She, who had been cosseted and protected her entire life, doted on by loving parents and taught the proper things to say in any social situation, struggled with the knowledge that she was far out of her element this time.

  Angela swallowed another surge of fear, well aware of Emily’s precarious balance on the edge of hysteria, and held her tongue. What in God’s name did one say to a pirate anyway?

  “ ’Ello, luv,” the swarthy, half-clad pirate said with a laugh, obviously at no loss of words himself. “Ye don’t look like ye’re havin’ much fun.”

  Angela ignored him with a mixture of utter disdain and blinding fear. He persisted, however, stepping even closer, his bare feet nudging the hem of her bombazine day dress.

  “W’at? Too good ta talk ta an ole sea-dog, luv? Mebbe ye’ll be glad of a chance fer polite conversation afore th’ day is over with.”

  Angela looked up at last, schooling her trembling voice as close to contempt as she could. “I doubt very seriously that you could ever manage anything remotely near polite, much less intelligent conversation. Go back to your rampant looting and leave us alone.”

  Anger creased the pirate’s brow, and he stepped so close his bare foot trod on the material bunched around her thighs. He crouched down and put out a grimy hand to touch her cheek.

  Unable to help herself, Angela flinched away from his hand. “Don’t touch me!”

  He laughed, revealing a gap where two front teeth had been, and his breath was foul as he leaned even closer. Horrified, Angela realized he meant to kiss her, and she pressed her spine into the unyielding wood of the mast. She could hear Emily whimpering beside her. Closing her eyes to blot out the sight of the pirate, Angela steeled herself for the inevitable.

  Then she heard a curious thump and grunt, and felt a whisper of wind as the pirate’s hand left her face. After a tense moment of silence, she cautiously opened her eyes.

  Instead of the scruffy pirate, she saw a pair of obviously expensive black leather knee-high boots with scuffed toes. She lifted her gaze. Captain Saber stood there instead of the other man, and a swift glance revealed the other pirate sprawled out on the deck. He was groaning and holding his head.

  “Get back to work instead of wasting valuable time, Reed,” the captain said coldly, and swept Angela a stony stare before turning away.

  Instead of feeling gratitude, she felt a spurt of anger that the captain would view her near-assault as a waste of valuable time. Her mouth tightened, and fear melded into irrational fury. How dare he treat her with such callous disregard!

  She opened her mouth to fling a nasty comment at Saber when she felt Emily’s faint nudge against her leg.

  “Miss Angela—what do you think they’ll do to us?”

  Emily’s quivering question brought an instant return of sanity. Angela’s anger subsided into caution. She shook her head. “I don’t know, Emily. I pray that they allow us to remain aboard the ship unmolested.”

  It was a faint hope and both knew it. Pirates were not usually known for their generosity toward female captives. And Captain Saber was said to be one of the worst. She couldn’t suppress a sudden shiver, and Emily again whimpered softly.

  “It will be all right,” Angela whispered with little conviction; Emily nodded. They fell silent, watching as the pirates swarmed across the deck.

  Seamen from the Scrutiny were being interrogated, and unbelievably, some of them seemed willing to join the pirate crew. Angela watched with astonished disgust as they eagerly fell in with the enemy. How could they? Were there no decent men left? Seething with angry despair, she forced her attention away from them.

  Thick smoke from smoldering coils of tarred rope stung her eyes and nose, and she turned her head to try and take a breath of fresh air. From where she and Emily were tied to a mast, she could see the hatch that led below to her cabin. Smoke billowed out in gentle puffs. A steady glow was diffused by the smoke, faint flickers that made her frown and study the opening. Then her eyes widened.

  “Fire!”

  Her scream brought Captain Saber’s head around, and he swore crudely before rapping out orders to douse the blaze. The pirates dropped what they were doing and scurried with buckets of sand and water. They flung the buckets down the opening but, from what Angela could see, made little progress. Her throat tightened. The ship was going to burn. That much was obvious. And more than likely, she and Emily would be left tied to the mainmast while it did, a fit retribution for daring to shoot the pirate officer.

  Smoke and angry tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. It was quickly apparent that the fire had taken a good hold, and Captain Saber began snapping orders. He then turned to Turnower.

  “Take your boats, Captain. You’re not so far from shore that you won’t be able to get there within a reasonable time, or perhaps be picked up by a passing ship.”

  Turnower nodded stiffly. “Aye, but we have only two jolly boats that are seaworthy.”

  Saber stared at him for a moment, then flicked a quick glance at the captured crew. “How shortsighted of Sheridan Shipping not to provide ample room for her crew,” he said after a moment. “Well, the decision is up to you, Captain. I leave you to your own.”

  “Saber!” Turnower called out when the pirate captain spun on his heel and started for the rail. “What do you intend should be done with the women?”

  Saber shot him a startled look. “I don’t intend that anything be done with them. They’re your problem.”

  “You have them tied to the mainmast. I assumed that to mean that you intended to take them with you.”

  “You assumed incorrectly.” Saber’s voice was soft, but held a steely edge to it that made Angela shiver.

  Turnower took a step forward. “I cannot take them with me. I did not even want passengers aboard, especially females, and yet the bloody purser took their passage. Take them with you. There is no room in the boats.”

  Swinging back around, Saber gave the captain a look of contempt. “What a b
rave Englishman you are, Captain. I see that it would not distress you to leave them lashed to the mainmast.”

  “Not when it means the lives of my loyal crew.”

  Emily made a faint sound that reminded Angela of a wounded animal. She blinked against the sting of smoke and horror. She must have been getting lightheaded from the smoke and stress. There could be no other explanation for the exchange that she was witnessing, the callous disregard for her life by the captain of the Scrutiny.

  But when she closed her eyes and opened them again, she saw that Captain Turnower had turned his back on her and given the order for the boats to be launched. Men grabbed eagerly at the davits, not one of the Scrutiny’s crew so much as glancing in the direction of the two women tied to the mast.

  Emily began to whimper, and Angela saw Captain Saber take a step forward again. Her heart pounded, and she hoped he would order Turnower to take them with him.

  But he did not. Instead, he motioned for two of his own crew to come forward. Before Angela could give so much as a single protest, the thick ropes tying them to the mast were severed and they were pulled to their feet. To her surprise, her legs would not support her, and she swayed so that the pirate had to grab her. She was glad to see that it was not the one called Reed.

  He grinned, his face pushed so close to hers that she recoiled. “Ho, me beauty—grab hold,” he said, still grinning. Angela had no time to protest before he lifted her and slung her over his back.

  The swift pressure of his shoulder cutting into her middle pushed the air from her lungs, and she gasped for breath as she dangled over the pirate in an undignified heap. A glance upward showed her that Emily had suffered a similar fate. Doubling her hands into fists, Angela beat a protest on the pirate’s back as he swaggered past his captain toward the rail.

  When he swung her to her feet, she drew in a deep breath, expecting to be flung overboard. Her breath exhaled in a rush when he swept her up again and leaped over the rail. There was a sickening moment of being airborne, and Angela let out a piercing scream as she was swung between the two ships. A yawning expanse of choppy gray waves swirled below, and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut. Then they landed with a jolt. Only when she felt the security of solid wood beneath her feet again did she open her eyes.

  Emily appeared beside her as if dropped from heaven, her eyes wide and her hair in charming disarray around her plump shoulders. They clung weakly to one another, watching as pirates still on the Scrutiny swung aboard, then pushed the other ship away. Grappling hooks were disengaged, and the chasm between the ships grew larger.

  Angela saw that the fire had raged higher aboard the Scrutiny, and now licked its way across the main deck. Smoke billowed in dark clouds, and sparks flew into the air. She thought of her trunk, the miniatures of her family, and the music box her father had given her. Unexpected tears stung her eyes, and she felt Emily shudder.

  As they watched, the Scrutiny began to list. High-pitched sounds almost like human screams emanated from the ship, and halyards snapped and canvas tumbled in flaming sheets to the main deck. Though the decks were aflame, the mainmast still stood intact. Flames licked at it with a growing frenzy, and the ship listed sharply to the leeward side. With a mighty screech of wood, the doomed ship began to take on water more quickly.

  Angela could see water pouring through the scuppers. For what seemed an eternity, she watched the death of the Scrutiny. Around her, the pirate crew bustled with cheer and chores, hauling lines and shouting orders in what seemed to her to be incomprehensible terms.

  “Ready about!”

  “Helm’s a-lee!”

  The bow of the ship nosed about slowly, and canvas flapped loudly overhead as wind tugged at the sails. “Off tacks and sheets!” Lines creaked and whined, and there was a slithering sound as they hummed through sailors’ hands and tackles. Yards swung around slowly from the force of the wind, canvas sheets cracking. “Mainsail haul!” came the shout, and sails tautened under the press of wind and tightening lines.

  Angela listened in a daze, barely aware of the alien sounds. In such a short space of time, her life and Emily’s had changed drastically. She had to think, had to safeguard them from the pirates as best as possible.

  “Let go and haul!” rang out across the deck. Angela glanced upward to see the yards shift into line with the others, watching dully as men hauled on bowlines and braces to pull them taut, then began to coil the gear and hang it on the pins dangling neatly at the ship’s rails.

  As the wind tugged at her loose hair and sent it in tangles around her face, she pulled it away and turned to look for the pirate captain. He was standing on the quarterdeck. His massive quartermaster stood next to him; a white cloth was bright against the dark skin of the quartermaster’s upper arm where he’d bandaged it.

  A deafening roar startled her and she jumped. Emily let out a scream as the deck shuddered. Before this afternoon, Angela would never have recognized the source, but now she immediately knew the cause. One of the big guns belched a ball and flame over the water.

  Angela moved to the rail, puzzled. Then she saw, out on the waves, the overcrowded jolly boats from the Scrutiny. Another gun boomed, and there was a faint whistling sound as the ball arced through the air then splashed into the water near the boats. Even at this distance, she could hear the faint screams and shouts.

  Whirling around, she looked up at the quarterdeck and saw Captain Saber watching impassively.

  “Stop them!” she screamed, flinging herself toward the five steps that led up to the quarterdeck. “They’re going to hit Turnower and his crew!”

  Captain Saber gazed at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “That’s entirely possible.”

  “That’s . . .” Flabbergasted, she stared at him. “But you’ll kill them!” She took another step up, but he put out a hand to stop her.

  “They didn’t seem too worried about you not so long ago. I thought I’d give them a taste of the same mercy they would have given you.”

  “But . . .” Another gun roared, and she whirled back around to stare in distress as one of the boats disappeared from view in a froth of foam and water plumes. She put her hands over her ears as if she could hear their screams. When a final shot boomed, she closed her eyes.

  It didn’t help. She knew the image of those geysers of seawater and cannonballs would stay with her the rest of her life.

  She opened her eyes to see the faintly amused gaze of the captain trained on her. Slowly lowering her hands from over her ears, she said distinctly, “You are as villainous as you have been named, Captain Saber. I would rather have drowned with the honest men of the Scrutiny than be left to your dishonorable mercy.”

  “Would you?” His calm voice belied the hot, savage glitter in his eyes. “That can still be arranged if you’re feeling sufficiently suicidal.”

  A flutter of fear caught in her throat. She tried to ignore it. “An honest death is preferable to a dishonorable life,” she said with a betraying quiver in her voice.

  The captain came toward her, his blue eyes narrowed and his mouth a taut line. When he stood on the step just above her, towering over her, she held her ground despite legs that were trembling. Unable to look into his face, she fastened her gaze on the smooth brown column of his throat where it rose from the pristine folds of his white shirt.

  “A noble sentiment from someone safely aboard a ship. I wonder how noble you would be if forced to choose between them,” he said in a harsh tone. “Shall we test your resolve, madam?”

  Angela’s eyes shot to his face. He looked serious. And angry. She briefly regretted her mad impulse to rebuke him, and wondered if she could still retreat with a shred of dignity. She cleared her throat.

  “Are you offering me a boat and freedom?”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “No. But I will offer you the opportunity to seek an honorable death, if you insist. The rail is to your left. Be my guest.”

  When she hesitated, paralyzed by fright and dread that s
he had once more spoken too quickly, he reached down and grasped her by one shoulder to spin her around and shove her toward the rail. She half stumbled over a coil of rope and was saved from sprawling onto the deck by Saber’s quick hand. He righted her, then gave her another shove toward the side rail.

  Angela saw that she had gained the attention of some of the crew. She recognized several former members of the Scrutiny ‘s crew standing at the rail, and wondered bitterly how they could have sunk so low as to join pirates.

  Then she was at the rail, Saber’s unyielding hand at her back. “Shall I lift you over, or do you think you can manage it on your own?” he asked in a conversational tone. Her hands curled over the wide rail, fingers digging into the wood to hold on.

  Wind whipped at her face. Sails snapped crisply, and sea water splashed up to mist the air as the hull sliced through gray-green waves. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly. She stared over the side rail at the churning sea rushing below. Death by drowning was said to be peaceful once one ceased struggling. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it would be better than whatever fate Saber might have in mind for her.

  A feeling of despair washed over her. She gripped the rail more tightly. Her hat was awry. Loose hair whipped at her face, lashing in stinging wisps against her skin. She shifted as if to climb atop the rail, then paused. Panic swelled. It was a long way down to the water, and once over, there would be no retreat. White foam clustered on the dark waves, then scattered in lingering wisps of froth as the ship moved forward.

  Sagging, she shook her head. Saber’s hand was still against her back, palm pressing into her spine as if to keep her at the rail. He released the pressure after a moment and, saying nothing, walked away. She heard his boots scuff over the wooden deck, heard him pause and give orders in a quiet voice, then he clattered down the hatch to go below.

  For a long time, Angela stood at the rail contemplating her wretched cowardice and tenacious grip on life.