“Don’t worry, princess,” he said with an amused smile. His thumb slid over her wrist. “Ye’ll get your sea legs soon enough.”
“For your information, I do not intend to be on this vessel long enough to get sea legs, sea sickness, or sea-anything-else!” She wrenched her arm free as the ship righted itself, and gripped the rail so hard that her knuckles went white. And as she whirled to flee, his casual words stopped her.
“Y’know, Maria, should the ship heel over again—and it very well may—there’s a good chance ye’ll lose your footing and slip overboard. I don’t know if ye can swim or not, but I can assure you that most of these tars cannot and I, for one, have no desire to take another icy plunge in the North Atlantic so soon after my last one. Think upon it, my dear, before ye go stomping off and away from me.”
She turned on him, her eyes flashing. “I want to go home.”
“I’ll take ye home, after Monhegan and Boston.”
“I want to go home now.”
“Ye’re bored. Ye need something to do, I’ll wager.”
“I am not bored.”
“And I must see that ye do not become so,” he declared, a cunning gleam in his eye making her wonder what dark scheme he was up to now. “Oh, don’t despair, lass. ’Tis perfectly natural, boredom is. In fact, all tars suffer from it occasionally. Some of us relieve it by firing off a gun or two just to hear the noise, some by throwing dice, some drown it beneath a bit of grog. But we all work for the good of the company—after all, gun practice is always beneficial, dicing reminds us of the value of riches, and rum, of course, is an excellent way to gain the courage needed for battle. I cannot, however, see you doing any of these things. Therefore—”
“I have absolutely no intention of drinking, dicing, or going near your precious cannon!”
“Guns.”
“And how many times must I tell you, I am not bored!”
“’Twill keep ye out of trouble if ye’ve something to do. A task. Something to earn your keep aboard this ship, I think.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I do not intend to do anything to earn my keep aboard this ship, as I intend to be off of it the first chance I get!”
“And until then, ’tis best for us all if ye’re kept busy,” he returned, as if she hadn’t even spoken. “You will consider a suggestion made by one of my men and endorsed by all of them. ’Tis the small matter of ship’s surgeon. Men do get sick and injured, ye know. Stripes—damn his gossipy soul for telling them ye’re a healer, but it was a good idea—thought ye’d be the perfect candidate. I gave my consent, and the company, of course, agreed.”
“What?!”
“Ye need something to do, lass.”
“You want me to play doctor to a bunch of sea rogues?”
“Aye, that’s the gist of it.”
“I cannot believe you’d ask such a thing of me!”
He pinned her with a level stare that must have frightened a dozen hardened mariners into giving up their ships to him. “And were the people of Eastham any more deserving of your compassion, your evil but effective poultices, your foul-smelling concoctions of clamshells and bear’s grease? They, who drove you out of town with rocks and stones, condemned you as a witch and led to the loss of our son?”
It was an unfair way to attack. She turned away, tears springing to her eyes. “I knew you would use what happened back at Eastham against me, and you’ll do so whenever you want to hurt me, won’t you?”
“I’ve no wish to cause ye pain, lass. But we do need a competent ship’s surgeon.”
She refused to look at him, instead glaring up at the great boom of the mainsail above their heads. “Oh, but you have caused me pain and it seems there’s no end to it. And here you are, taking pleasure in taunting me, knowing fully well that I’d never lift a finger to help this ‘company’ out yet ordering me to do so anyway, just to pit me against my own beliefs. Why are you trying so hard to make me as lawless and unholy as you are? Why do you keep trying to change me?”
“Maria, lass, my intent is not to change ye, but to open your eyes to the plight of others.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Besides, it’s really the other way around. I love you perfectly well the way you are—’tis you who keeps trying to change me into what you want me to be. Someone respectable, someone you can take home to your aunt, someone who thinks and sees and breathes the same way you do.”
“Love? If you loved me, then you would change for me.”
“And if you loved me, ye’d stop asking me to.”
“I don’t love you. Not anymore.”
He smiled. “Ah, princess, your words belie the truth that is in your eyes, that ruddies your cheeks, that makes ye stand here and fight me tooth and claw. Don’t deny it. Ye love me, just as I do you. How quick you are to forget that when it is convenient to do so.”
“I loved Sam Bellamy, not Black Sam, pirate captain, outlaw, and devil incarnate.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands and stared out over the sparkling sea. “Besides, what do you know about love? The only things you love are this ship, piracy, yourself. I’m just a convenience, nothing more. An amusement.”
“What do I know about love….” he echoed softly, bracing his forearms atop the rail and gazing down at the frothy seas below. “Oh, I know a lot about it, Maria. I know that love means accepting someone for the person they are, as I’ve accepted you. Do ye think that because I’m a pirate I don’t love you? Christ, I lost my ship, my fortune, and nearly my life over you. Would I have done so for a mere ‘amusement’? Even now, it’s taking every bit of self-control I have to keep from sweeping you up into my arms, carrying you to my cabin, and having my way with ye. Don’t tell me I don’t love ye.”
“You describe lust, Captain, not love. Another sin, I believe.”
“A sin?”
“Yes, and you are steeped in it, Sam Bellamy. Sin.”
He shoved away from the rail, his eyes flashing. “To hell with sin! ’Tis not lust and ye damn well know it! What the hell does it take for ye to believe me? Do I have to lose this ship too? Do I have to stand on the highest yardarm and shout it out for the company to hear? My love for you transcends lust, Maria!” And as if to prove it, he yanked her up against him, bent her backward over his arm and slammed his mouth down upon hers.
To no avail, she shoved at his damp chest with her palms. He was robbing her of her breath, her will, her very soul. She would not respond to his kiss, she would not! No matter that her knees were growing weak, her head spinning, her heart thrumming like the lines and rigging so far above her head! She tried to escape the kiss, afraid he’d see her weakening, but his hand caught in her hair and drew her head back, his tongue plunging into the softness of her mouth and sending sensation shooting through her body. Her struggles grew weak, and it was only when she began to return his kiss that he finally drew away.
Her eyes flew open. And there, a blatant reminder of how its owner had obtained it, was the Spanish coin, still hanging from his neck and now dangling against her knuckles.
It was the final insult. Maria’s hand came up and her palm connected solidly with the side of his bearded cheek.
The blow stung her hand more than it did him, but the desire and love that had momentarily softened his features fled like the sun before storm clouds. His eyes narrowed dangerously.
“So, lass, is that how ye return the affections of one who loves ye?” Maria winced as he gripped her arm, his fingers biting into the soft flesh and dragging her forward until his eyes were just inches from her own. And then he pushed her away, as though the sight of her sickened him. “Go below, Maria. And if ye’re not there when I come down, I promise ye’re going to see a side of me you never knew existed.”
And with that, he stormed away without a backward glance, rapier slapping his hip, shoulders stiff with fury, features set in stone. Maria watched him with fury and heartbreak. Oh, she’d be there in his cabin waiting for him, all right. But it would be the last time,
for she vowed to be off this ship and out of the jaws of the wolf before the sun set on another day.
Chapter 19
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting.
—Daniel
Leaving the ship was, of course, nothing more than wishful thinking on Maria’s part. That very afternoon, the pirates held a drunken celebration to christen it, and Sam came to the cabin to drag her back up on deck to participate in the ceremonies. Suggestions for a proper name were being flung from stem to stern like a volley of grapeshot, and as she emerged on deck, blinking in the sun and growing angrier by the minute, they all converged on her, demanding to know what her thoughts were on the matter. Nat Paige had shoved a bottle of Shilling’s fine Madeira into her hand, and still smarting from Sam’s chastisement, she’d taken the bottle, stood at the bow, and proclaimed that she couldn’t put a name to such wickedness, that the sloop was nothing more than a training—and proving—ground for nefarious deeds that were too evil for this earth to suffer. This had been a mistake of course, for Maria, who’d had no desire to partake in such a ridiculous ceremony in the first place, had unwittingly provided the most popular contribution yet.
“Aye, Nefarious!” someone had shouted and then, pushing his way through a deafening chorus of ayes and yeas, Nat Paige had seized her wrist, brought her arm back, and forced her to toss the bottle. And while Sam had stood nearby, caught up in helpless laughter, the bottle had shattered upon the beakhead and the wine had run like blood before waves had come up to wash it away.
They reached Monhegan the following afternoon. At first glance it looked like a giant whale sunning itself on the horizon but as they drew closer, Maria put aside her bitterness to marvel at its stark, breathtaking beauty. Surf thundered and smashed at mighty walls of granite rising straight out of the ocean, spray glistened like diamonds on steep, austere rock faces as it trickled back into the sea. High above the cliff’s cap of evergreens that were straighter, taller, and far more stately than Eastham’s little scrub pines could ever hope to be, a bald eagle made a lazy circle, drifting in currents of warm air before finally floating out of sight behind the lofty spire of a spruce.
Monhegan. It was wild, it was desolate, and without Cape Cod’s familiar sandy beaches, it was unlike anything Maria had ever seen.
It was also, as Sam had feared, deserted.
The sea rolling beneath her keel, Nefarious had stood patiently at anchor while her captain and a few men took her boat and went ashore. By early evening they’d returned with several large logs, of all things, and the news that the snow, Anne, had indeed arrived at Monhegan to wait for its piratical consorts. After relieving the locals of several vessels and causing so much trouble that the island’s few occupants and those of the mainland port, Pemaquid, were too afraid to even venture out to fish, Anne’s crew had transferred to one of the prizes, left Anne behind, and finally stood off to sea, where they hadn’t been seen or heard from since.
One look at Sam’s grim features told Maria all she needed to know as she stood at the rail and watched the boat nose its way back through the swells. Maybe he’d give up his reckless plan after all.
But her hopes were in vain. Sam was shouting orders before his feet even hit the deck and the crew could secure the still-dripping boat to its davits. “Up anchor! All hands prepare to make sail! Jibs first, ’til we’re clear of the island, then the mains’l. Put her on a broad reach, Flanagan, due north, if ye please!”
Bare feet hammering across the deck. The squeal of the windlass, the excited cries of men racing to set sail. The kelp-draped anchor cable went taut and trudged wearily out of the sea, canvas rose on Nefarious’s nose, and then the deck tilted sharply as she heeled to leeward, leaping ahead like a racehorse.
Ignoring Sam, who stood with feet planted solidly on deck, hands clasped behind his back and dark head tilted back to watch the progress aloft, Maria wandered the deck until she found Stripes. He was sprawled nearby with his back against the bulwark, a tankard in his hand and his hat pulled low over his eyes. To all appearances he was napping, but Maria knew him well enough by now to know that he was not, and her amusement at the lengths to which he’d go to catch a particularly juicy piece of information somewhat eased her anger with Sam. She lurched awkwardly across the deck toward him, her balance still precarious but improving by the day. “I know you’re not sleeping,” she said, gently poking him with her foot. “We both know you’d miss too much if you were.”
He was enough of an actor to fake a yawn as he looked up, squinting and shading eyes that looked anything but sleepy. “Why, there ain’t nothin’ t’ miss, Maria.”
“Oh?” she asked, raising a brow. “You seem to have placed yourself conveniently close to where I was standing. Surely, close enough to hear what might’ve transpired between your captain and me.”
He looked guiltier than a hound caught stealing the supper from his master’s table. “Yer a sharp one,” he said, and if she’d been angry with him—which she wasn’t—his dancing brown eyes and mischievous grin would have quickly allayed it.
“Perhaps. But since you’ve said nothing more about my being a ‘witch,’ I can overlook your curiosity.”
“I’m real sorry fer tellin’ the lads ’bout that,” he explained. “But it was fer yer own good. If I ’adn’t, they wouldn’t ’ave let ye stay. A woman on board is bad luck, ye know. But they be rightly respectful of a witch.”
“Is that so?” Maria crouched down so that he wouldn’t have to stare up into the sunlight to see her. “Well then, if your intent was to make them respect me, you have my gratitude. But if you did it just to call attention to yourself then you have my sympathy, because some day your loose tongue will get you into more trouble than it will be able to get you out of. And fortunately for you”—she matched his grin with one of her own—“I’ve forgiven you for telling everyone I’m a ‘witch.’ Otherwise I might’ve turned you into a barnacle, where you could stick to the ship’s hull and eavesdrop to your heart’s content!”
He laughed then, appreciating her humor. “Well, if yer gonna turn me into anythin’, don’t make it a barnacle. Won’t do me much good if I hear things but can’t tell nobody!” He pulled himself upright, cast a quick, wary glance about to ensure that Black Sam wasn’t within hearing distance, and lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper. “Cap’n’s in a foul mood today, ain’t ’e? Somethin’ goin’ on b’tween you two that ain’t all sugar an’ spice?”
“I’d say there’s been much more spice of late than sugar,” Maria said, sighing and not caring that he was pumping her for information. At least he was someone to talk to. “And maybe it is all my fault, but I just can’t condone this life he’s chosen, can’t stand the thought of him attacking innocent people and robbing them of the things for which they worked so hard. It just isn’t right. And do you know what’s even worse? Sooner or later the authorities will catch him, and…and—” She wrung her hands, unable to voice the thoughts that awful vision evoked. “Oh, Stripes—I don’t want to see him die.”
“’Ere, now,” he said, reaching up to pat her hand. He caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes as she stared at a tern that plunged into the sea off the larboard bow then rose, wings spraying water droplets, with a glistening fish clamped securely in its beak. “’Ave some faith in Black Sam! Nothin’s gonna happen to ’im! Do ye think ’e got as far as ’e did by bein’ careless? Nay, the Cap’n’s a crafty one, a rogue among rogues. An’ this little sloop ’ere, why, she’s as fast as the wind. There ain’t nobody can catch ’er when she spreads ’er wings an’ flies.”
Maria thought of the king’s ships she’d often seen from the Great Beach, ruthless, mighty men-of-war that showed no mercy toward their prey. “Even a swift sparrow can be brought down by a hawk.”
“Aye, but the sparrow can ’ide in places where the hawk can’t go.”
“And then the fox will get him!”
Stripes merely laughed, but his confid
ence in his captain’s piratical abilities did nothing to relieve her fears. “I think ye worry too much, Maria. Ain’t healthy, ye know. Here.” He held out the bottle of rum. “Maybe a swallow or two’ll ease yer mind a bit”
She shrank back. “Thank you, but I’ve learned that tipple only worsens problems that are bad enough to begin with.”
He grinned. “Well, we can’t have ye mopin’ around like the world’s gonna end. Which reminds me, the Cap’n had somethin’ ’e wanted me t’ ask ye.”
“And he can’t ask me himself?”
“Said ye need yer space, ’e did.”
“How thoughtful of him,” she muttered.
“’E wants t’ know if ye’d like t’ go ashore when we put in t’night. Said ’e thought ye’d like t’ git some weeds.” Stripes peered curiously at her. “Does that mean ye’ll be the ship’s doctor after all?”
Her good mood instantly evaporated. “It most certainly does not. I am a prisoner aboard this ship, not a participant.”
“Well, it ain’t nothin’ t’ be gittin’ all huffed up about. Cap’n’s just tryin’t’ be nice.”
“Nice? He’s doing his best to make me participate in something he knows I’m dead-set against! Piracy!” Sunlight flashed against metal as Johnnie ran past with Gunner bounding at his side. “The day I lift a finger to further his wicked deeds is the day I—”
She froze, jaw hanging slack as she realized just what that metallic flash had been. Stripes saw the look on her face, and instantly raised a hand. “Now don’t ye be blamin’ the Cap’n fer that,” he said. “Young Johnnie went an’ begged Gillespie t’ pierce ’is ear fer ’im ’cause ’e wanted it t’ be jus’ like Black Sam’s, an’ let me tell ye, the Cap’n went int’ one of ’is tempers when ’e found out! Said the lad weren’t old enough t’ be wearin’ gold in ’is ear, an’ that if we ever did get caught, they’d hang ’im sure as they’d string up the rest of us!”
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