by Lynn Patrick
“Rum, drum… Captain learned Ned got in with Frenchie. But he didn’t deserve to die,” Lars said morosely, then drank more rum. “We’ll take care of the black-hearted killers that did him in…”
“That’s why Bryce wanted to know so much about Moreau,” Caitlin said slowly, trying to get the name right. Then she hiccuped.
“Yes, yes, him. Shouldn’t run with that crowd. A pack of murderers!”
“I wasn’t running around with them,” objected Caitlin. “I’m one of the good guys and was kidnapped. What do I have to do…hic…to get you to believe me?”
“Never can be too many on the side of good. Captain took the most loyal. Only part of his regular crew. We made an oath before we left the Bahamas.”
“Well, all right,” she agreed easily. “I’ll swear myself in. Okay? Hic. Ooh, Moreau will be mad. Probably tell Babs and me to get off his island. But I guess I haven’t been there much lately, anyway. Hmm, I wonder how Babs is doing?” Suddenly thinking about her friend, Caitlin stared off into space. Her head felt so heavy, she let it rest against the wall.
“Have to remember a man’s been killed,” stated Lars vehemently.
“Did Ned look like Bryce?” Imagining a young man as handsome as the captain lying dead, Caitlin’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears.
“Don’t take it so hard,” said Lars. “We have to be brave and spirited. Maybe sing a courageous tune.”
“Courageous Caitlin is always brave.”
“Who?”
“Me!”
“Oh,” Lars muttered before breaking into song, “Yo ho ho and—”
But Caitlin interrupted him, objecting, “That’s not a brave song! Let’s sing. Anchors aweigh, my boys…” She tried to salute the old sail maker smartly, her hand slapping at her brow.
At the same time, outside the sail maker’s quarters, Bryce talked with Anselm as they entered the galley. “There’s something about that name,” .Bryce mused, searching his memory. “Eddie Teach. It sounds familiar.”
But the big man was staring around the room, a frown on his broad face. “Why is there such a mess down here? Where’s the cook? I was hoping to get something to eat. And who’s singing?”
Bryce’s attention was quickly drawn to the stack of dirty dishes on the table, then his eyes moved on to the stove and its greasy griddle. Both men followed the sound of singing voices to Lars’s quarters.
“Anchors aweigh! We’ll sail at dawn…” trilled Caitlin.
“And blow them all away…” warbled Lars.
“What’s going on here?” asked Bryce sternly, centering himself in the doorway of the small room.
Caitlin’s pretty, if slightly bleary, eyes blinked toward him. “Aye, aye, Captain. Hic,” she said with a salute and a lopsided smile.
“They’re both thoroughly soaked with rum,” said Anselm, laughing as he gazed over Bryce’s shoulder. “The old man’s been a bad influence on her.”
Bryce noted the liquor bottle beside the bunk. “Or vice versa. Why didn’t she take the bottle away from Lars instead of getting drunk with him?”
“You’ll have to ask her that tomorrow, my friend.” Still laughing, Anselm backed away, muttering that he was going to fix himself something to eat.
Bryce entered the old man’s quarters, first checking on Lars and picking up the nearly empty rum bottle to toss it in the galley’s garbage can. Then he helped Caitlin stand. She tottered unsteadily, leaning against him. The warmth and softness of her slender body made him catch his breath.
But the things she made Bryce want to do were not the right ways to deal with an intoxicated woman. Steeling himself against the feel of her, Bryce lifted Caitlin’s relaxed form, intending to carry her up to his cabin and deposit her there.
“I think I understand now,” she murmured against his chest as he navigated the galley stairs. “I didn’t really think you were a criminal.” Bryce was silent, not bothering to try to figure out what she was talking about.
“But I’m not a criminal, either. You should know that too.”
“Mm-hmm,” he muttered.
By the time he reached the captain’s cabin and swung the door open, she’d encircled his neck with soft clinging arms. He put her down on the bunk, but she insisted on hanging onto him.
“Kiss me?” Caitlin breathed sexily, her eyes dreamy. She raised her half open lips.
He was tempted until he smelled the rum. “Uh, maybe some other time,” Bryce managed to tell her, extricating himself from her hold and backing away from the tipsy woman.
“You aren’t gonna leave me here and lock the door, are you?”
“Somebody has to sail the ship.”
“Let Anselm do it. Stay here with me.”
Bryce backed away a little farther. “I’ll see you in the morning. You need to sleep off…your overindulgence.”
“Rather sleep with you.” She raised herself on her elbows and beckoned to him. “Won’t try to get away…I love you.”
“What?” he asked, startled.
But she didn’t repeat the amazing words. Instead she fell back on the bed with a moan. “Ooh, I’m dizzy.”
“Try to sleep.”
Bryce didn’t bother locking the cabin door as he had for the past couple of nights. He had done it to make sure his lovely prisoner was safe against her own foolish escape plans after that one attempt, but she wasn’t in any condition to try anything tonight.
Emotions aroused in spite of himself, Bryce paced the deck, gazing up at the sparkling vault of stars. With vivid detail he remembered the night he’d shown Caitlin how to steer the ship. Was she in turn guiding him to new places, new depths of feeling now? Had she meant it when she’d said she loved him?
Bryce cautioned himself to forget the incident— Caitlin was drunk. But what if the alcohol had only loosened her tongue and she was speaking the truth?
Did he really want her to love him?
Could he be falling for her, himself?
Feeling as if invisible, yet powerful, cords were being thrown in his direction, like the shimmering seaweed nets cast by sirens to bind sailor’s hearts, Bryce realized that he was in danger of being captured by his own captive.
Chapter Eleven
“Care for some rum for dessert?”
Thinking that Lars was addressing her, Caitlin turned from sweeping the galley floor to find the sail maker talking to Calico Jack. Except for flicking his ears as he munched cat chow out of his bowl near the sink, the cat paid no attention to the man leaning over him.
“No, Lars,” stated Caitlin firmly. “Jack doesn’t want any rum, I don’t want any rum, and you shouldn’t want more of the vile stuff. You don’t have any more bottles hidden away, do you? The captain made me confiscate your entire cache this morning.”
“Ho, ho I’m not telling about my secret hiding places.” Lars winked and grinned. “But believe me, missy, old Lars has any amount of rum buried here and there all over these islands, just like treasure. I can dig it up any time and dive for the bottles I left on the bottom of the sea. Dive, alive, thrive…”
Laughing mischievously, the elderly sailor put away the pots he’d washed after the evening meal. Caitlin shook her head and continued sweeping.
Lars obviously enjoyed telling his crazy stories. Had the information he’d revealed about Bryce last night been fiction or fact? The disclosures hadn’t seemed so farfetched then. Since she’d gotten progressively more intoxicated as the evening had worn on, however, by inadvertently joining Lars in his drinking spree, Caitlin had to admit that her memory was a little hazy.
“What about those things you told me about Bryce and his brother last night? Are we really out to find Ned’s murderers?”
“Murderers!” The old man’s eyes darted from one part of the room to another, and he pulled nervously at the beaded strands of his beard. “I told you something about murderers? I don’t remember much about last night, missy. Enough rum always puts me to sleep. I dreamed that Calico Jac
k and I went out fishing in one of the launches.”
“Oh. I must have been dreaming, too, I guess,” said Caitlin, quickly going along with him. She turned from Lars to place the broom and dustpan in a cabinet. From the old man’s reaction she could tell that he was flustered. Even now he was muttering to himself about murder as he shuffled to his quarters.
What Lars had said about Bryce must have been true, then! And probably none of the crew was supposed to talk about it. Feeling intrigued by the few pieces of the mystery that had been revealed, Caitlin wished her mind was alert enough to continue working on the puzzle.
As it was, she’d do well to finish cleaning up the galley. Picking up a sponge, she wiped the table and counters and tried to ignore her growing fatigue.
She’d had a long and extremely exhausting day. The morning had begun much too early when she’d staggered out of the captain’s cabin with a groggy hangover. Making her way to the galley, she’d then been confronted by Bryce. He’d lectured her on her behavior with Lars: Caitlin was encouraging the sail maker to drink by sharing the rum with him. Did she want the old man to get cirrhosis of the liver?
She’d managed to answer the captain’s charges flippantly, saying that she was sure Lars could get cirrhosis quite well without her encouragement. But she’d felt guilty, anyway, agreeing to search out any other bottles belonging to the elderly man and turn them over to Bryce for safekeeping.
She wished her guilt was aroused by nothing more than her innocuous encouragement of Lars’s drinking. All day long, as she’d worked on deck, Caitlin had worried about what she’d said and done with Bryce the night before. Did she have reason to be embarrassed? Despite her foggy memory, she thought she remembered clinging to the captain’s neck and begging him to sleep with her. Was there some hope that she’d only dreamed that part of the episode? Considering the way Bryce had been acting toward her lately, she certainly didn’t want him to know she was still attracted to him.
In fact, she planned to steer clear of the man until she’d regained poise and dignity. Then, perhaps, she could get him alone and ask him about his brother. Would Bryce be willing to admit the truth?
Yawning and stretching, Caitlin glanced around the galley one more time before abandoning the sponge in the sink. She could hardly wait to climb into bed. And even though she’d probably be locked in again, it was rather nice to have her own private quarters. Her hangover had been cured by her work in the sun and wind that afternoon, but she could use a nice peaceful eight hours of sleep. She hoped rest would help her forget her hazy memories of the disconcerting incident with Bryce.
Caitlin awakened much later to the hum of the Sea Devil’s auxiliary engine. Blinking sleepily, she turned over to gaze at the patches of sky visible through the cabin’s windows. It was dark. Why had someone started the engine? Were they coming into a port and needed to maneuver? Had the wind completely died down?
She was about to curl up and go back to sleep, not caring whether or not they were arriving at some place of consequence, when she heard a familiar noise. The sharp crack was repeated. She’d heard that sound the night she’d been kidnapped.
Memories of the terrifying night on Hibiscus suddenly flooding back into her consciousness, Caitlin sat straight up in bed. Who was shooting? What was going on?
As she pulled on her shorts and T-shirt she heard shouting and lost her footing as the ship swung around sharply. She had her hand on the doorknob before remembering that the cabin was probably locked as usual. Giving the door a hopeful jerk, anyway, she was unable to budge it and ran back to look out the window. Except for one shadowy figure that hurried past, she could see nothing. Whatever was happening must be on the other side of the ship. Heart pounding, adrenaline flowing, Caitlin dashed toward the glass paned exit at the rear of the room. She almost fell backward when the double doors easily gave way.
Freedom!
In the space of a heartbeat Caitlin stood on the small rear deck. Using the rope ladder attached to one side of the doorway, she scrambled up on the cabin’s roof.
Before her, parallel with the starboard side of the Sea Devil’s prow, the bulk of a much smaller white boat was visible. She flinched at the sound of more gunshots. Dare she go and investigate? Heedless of the danger, Caitlin leapt from the roof and sprinted barefoot down the deck.
“You’re not supposed to be out here!” Carlos shouted at her. She ducked behind the foremast to avoid him, noticing that he carried a rifle as he passed her. Sounds of fighting could be heard from the white cruiser. She thought she recognized Bryce’s voice amid the rest of the noise.
Was most of the Sea Devil’s crew on board the cruiser, attacking the smugglers? Caitlin rushed to the railing. Only a few feet below her, the dimly lit deck of the cruiser was alive with battle. Several men struggled near the stern of the boat. One crewman chased a fleeing smuggler away from a man who lay very still, his pale-hued shirt stained with blood.
Bryce and a burly man fought almost directly beneath her perch. The captain punched his opponent, knocking him to the deck. But the man rolled over quickly and rose again.
“You bastards aren’t gonna get away with this one!” bellowed the smuggler as he advanced on Bryce.
“You’re the bloody devils who aren’t going to get away!” shouted Bryce, grappling with the man. Then Caitlin noticed another ruffian approaching Bryce from behind. The dim light gleamed off the long knife he carried.
Fearful that the captain was going to be killed, Caitlin yelled, “Bryce!”
But her call went unnoticed in the melee. Frantically she reached for a huge coil of rope hanging from a belaying pin on the pin rack next to her. The coil was heavy, but her desperation gave her the necessary strength to jerk it free and drop it down on the sneaking assassin. He fell neatly, face forward, to the deck. The knife slid from his hand.
“Got you!” she cried as a surprised Bryce looked up to find her at the rail above him. His former adversary now groaning at his feet, the captain turned away to meet the charge of a new enemy who came running toward him.
“Yah!” howled the attacking smuggler as Carlos suddenly leapt out of the shadows to tackle him in mid-stride.
“Hold him, Carlos!” shouted Bryce.
Adrenaline still pumping madly, Caitlin watched Bryce and the deckhand keep the man down. Then her eyes were drawn to the smuggler she’d felled. Raising himself on his elbows, he shook his head slowly as if to clear it. She gasped as she recognized the man’s face. It was Jenkins, the lowlife who’d first abducted her from Hibiscus.
The sight of him was too much. Crouching on the edge of the Sea Devil, she leapt as the vessels rocked closer together with a swell of water. When her feet hit the deck near him, Jenkins looked at her dazedly and tried to reach for his knife.
“You slime!” she yelled as her temper exploded. “Trying to kill someone when he wasn’t looking!” Without thinking, she kicked the man soundly in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. “Rotten sneak! I ought to chop you up in pieces and throw you to the sharks!”
Jenkins cringed and muttered, “Attacked by a harpy!”
“No, more likely she’s a sea witch,” remarked Anselm as he herded two smugglers from the boat’s stern, holding a rifle on them. “And luckily she’s on our side.”
Staring at the first mate and suddenly noticing the relative quiet, Caitlin realized that the battle must be over. And the crew of the Sea Devil had obviously won! Perry had knelt at the side of the fallen man with the bloodstained shirt and was talking to him. Gazing around at the faces of the ship’s crew as they gathered with their prisoners, Caitlin felt shaky with relief.
Before she could say anything, however, Bryce encircled her shoulders with a muscular arm. She leaned against him, as if to gain strength, and drew a trembling breath.
“Cold, Caitlin?” he asked. “Or are you just tired from the fight? You must have scared the deuce out of Jenkins with your threats. Look at him, he’s as quiet as a mouse.”
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br /> “You have one brave young lady there, Captain,” said Anselm with a huge grin. “She saved your hide, you know, stopping that murdering thief in his tracks. We can see what side she’s on.”
“Yes, we can,” said Bryce simply. But Caitlin couldn’t read the captain’s ambiguous expression. And Bryce soon released her to take more direct charge of the situation.
“We’ll have to get these stinking devils up to the prow and tie them up,” he told Anselm briskly. “Except for Jenkins. Put him in the cruiser’s cabin so we can have a little talk. I’ve got some questions and will be interested to see how good the man’s memory is this time.”
“Right, Captain.”
Perry approached Bryce as Anselm moved away. “Thomas has been shot, sir. It’s just a flesh wound, but we’ll need to get him aboard the ship right away.”
“Oh, no!” cried Caitlin.
Acting immediately, Bryce motioned to a couple of crewmen. “Help Perry take Thomas aboard the Sea Devil. Be careful.” His gaze turned to Caitlin. “Do you think you can go along with them too?” he asked gruffly. “Perry will need assistance in treating the wound.”
When she nodded, he strode away to issue more orders. “Carlos, gather up all the weapons and put them on the Sea Devil. Tell the others to get the launches ready.”
Once aboard the larger vessel, Perry examined Thomas’s wound. “Don’t worry,” the older deckhand told Caitlin. “He’ll be all right. The blood makes it look much worse than it is.”
Sweat beading his brow, Thomas managed to give the young woman a weak smile as his crewmate went after hot water and bandages. “When I was lying on the deck, I looked up and saw you drop that rope on that bounder, miss. You saved the captain’s life.”
“I only did what I had to,” Caitlin objected, suddenly feeling uncomfortable that she’d intentionally tried to hurt someone.
At the time, though, she had to admit that she’d only been concerned for Bryce. And no matter which side the captain served, even if he really was a pirate, she knew she would have done everything in her power to save the man she loved from harm.
