“Mind yourself, Teach,” Sam warned, touching the hilt of his cutlass. “I’ve called men out for less.”
Teach’s gaunt face looked thunderstruck. “Why, I’ll be damned fer a monkey’s arse! Black Sam is jealous!” Guffawing, he turned to a seaman and bellowed, “Fetch me a drink there, Hands! I got to have something to toast m’ friend’s upcoming nuptials!” His glittering eyes raked Maria from head to toe. “Ye ain’t really a witch now, are ye?”
Maria got the distinct impression that nothing would please Teach more. Beneath her hand, she felt Sam stiffen.
“I’m warning ye, Teach, I don’t take kindly to anyone insulting my Maria here, even you.”
“A pox on ye, Bellamy! I’m just riling ye. Don’t ye go getting’ all hot and hellfire ’bout it. Besides, I’m just getting an eyeful of ’er, ’tis all. Have ye no heart, lad?”
“Maria’s no more a witch than you are Satan. I’ll not have her name besmirched with such rot.”
“Hell, it ain’t like I’m condemning her to the gallows! Haul in yer guns, fer God’s sake! And where the hell did m’ rum go? Hands! I’m thirsty, damn you!”
And as he ambled off in search of his drink, Maria heard bits of conversation from the men clustered around the fire.
“I don’t care what they say, she ain’t no witch but an angel! Why, I think I’ve died and met me maker!”
And Stripes, “Yer maker don’t entertain angels, t’ be sure.”
“But Teach has his eye on her, and he always gets what he wants. If I know my captain, he’ll have the wench before dawn!”
“And if I know mine, Teach’ll be dead by sunup if he so much as tries it.”
Maria’s face flamed. She looked up at Sam, who, judging by the way his lips were twitching, must’ve heard the conversation as well. He grinned down at her. “Don’t let them get to ye, princess. Men will be men, and pirates will be pirates. Lots of bluster and swagger, but down deep they’re like any other. Pay them no heed.”
“’Tis not the men that worry me, but their captain.”
“Who, Teach? Why, he’s made bluster his career. Now let’s see a smile. We wouldn’t want him to think ye’re a timid little doe now, would we?”
“And what little doe wouldn’t be timid when surrounded by such a hungry pack of wolves?”
Sam kicked a gnarled old log close to the fire, sat on it, and pulled her into his lap. “The one who belongs to the leader of that pack, that’s who.”
“But you heard them. They said he means to have me!”
“Over my dead body.”
“But what if—oh, God help us, here he comes.”
“With enough tipple to keep a king’s ship in ration for a twelve-month. I’m afraid this is going to be a long night, Maria.”
But Teach had paused beside a group of his men, who were betting on a pair of grimy, yellowed dice carved from the bones of a long-dead whale. As he squatted down and reached for the dice, they fell silent.
“What’re ye playing there, mates?” he boomed. The men looked ill at ease, but Teach merely shook the dice and tossed them to a piece of planking that had been set on the sand as a playing surface. From his thunderous look it was obvious the roll hadn’t pleased him. Cursing the dice for being weighted, he snatched up a nearby bottle and hurled it savagely against the planking. It shattered, spraying those unfortunates nearest it with glass, wine, and bits of wood. One of them jumped up and screaming, clapped a hand over his face.
“Oh, mercy, sir, I think ye blinded me!” he wailed. “Ye hit me in the eye!”
But Teach only roared with laughter and retrieved the mugs—all six of them—that he’d set in the sand. “Don’t let it trouble ye, Henderson! Ye still have the other one!”
Outraged, Maria leaped to her feet. “That poor man!”
“Sit down, princess.”
“But he has glass in his eye!”
“I said sit down.” Sam grabbed for her, swore, and pushed two fingers against his brow as Maria marched indignantly past a grinning Teach and went to the man’s aid.
Sam’s reaction brought a blast of laughter from Teach. “Let her be, Bellamy. I daresay, the wench can take care of herself!” He shoved a tankard into Sam’s hand. “Here, have a drink. To our health, I say!”
“Aye, to our health,” Sam muttered, lifting the tankard to his lips. Yet his dark gaze remained on Maria as she bent over the injured man and gently pried his hand from his eye.
“So tell me, lad, what’s this I hear about yer men being up in the Boston gaol?”
“You heard correctly,” Sam said, taking another swallow and still watching Maria.
“Hell and damnation, don’t ye know Boston ain’t never been one to show mercy toward the Brethren? What say ye we cook up a way to get ’em out, eh?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past weeks? Taking a sightseeing cruise up and down the bloody coast?”
“Well, what have ye been doing? Tumbling that green-eyed witch?”
Refusing to be baited, Sam quaffed his rum and tossed another piece of wood onto the fire. “Waiting for Paul Williams to show up. Bloody hell, I’d give my right arm to know where he is right now!”
Teach eyed him in confusion.
“Well, I can hardly bust them out alone, can I?”
“’Sdeath, what do ye need him for? He’s been sailing’ with Lebous. Nay, do yourself a favor and forget Williams. Besides”—his eyes gleamed over the rim of his tankard—“ye got me now.”
“You? And just what do you have to gain from such antics, Ned? They were Paul’s and my men, not yours.”
“Why, a reputation, for one! Think of what it’ll do fer my image, blasting into Boston with every gun a-roaring, the rogues all hot and ready. Ah, what a sight we’ll be, Black Sam and Blackbeard.”
Sam raised a dark brow and felt the corner of his mouth twitching. “Blackbeard?”
“Aye, like it?” Teach stroked the long, greasy length of hair that streamed from his cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “Ye should see it when it’s all braided up. Scares the living daylights out of people. I tie the tails off with little ribbons, stick some of these”—he yanked one of the smoldering match cords from beneath his hat—“into it, and I’m telling ye, ye’ve never seen colors come down so damned fast! Mark me, Bellamy, I’m going to be the greatest rascal that ever lived!”
Sam merely shook his head.
“Ye don’t mind now if I help ye get yer men out, do ye? I wouldn’t want to be stealin’ yer glory!”
“Mind? No, I need all the help I can get.” His gaze strayed to Maria, still bent over the injured man and tenderly examining his eye.
“Well then, what are we waiting for, eh?”
Sam grinned, feeling as though a sudden weight had been lifted from his shoulders. With Teach, he no longer needed to find Paul. With Teach, there was no longer a reason to build up a fleet. With Teach, he had all the help he needed.
And with Teach, he could finally put the ghosts of Whydah to rest, haul down his flag, and—his heart leaped with joy—marry his sweet Maria.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. In fact, let’s weigh anchor and put things in motion on the morrow. I’ll take a little jaunt up to Boston to assess the situation, and we’ll rendezvous next Sunday off the Isles of Shoals.”
“Next Sunday.”
“Aye.”
“I’ll be there. And as for you, Bellamy, mind yerself in Boston. The world might think ye’re dead, but there’s one cunning knave who doesn’t and he’ll be giving ye a damned hot reception if he finds ye’re visiting year lads right under his nose.”
“Ah yes, my friend Ingols.” Sam dismissed the unknown enemy with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard all about him. Here comes Maria. Don’t say anything about him to her, eh? She worries too much as it is.”
“Ahoy, lassie!” Teach boomed. “I see ye’ve worked yer potions on me crewman and restored him to health! Here, sit down and join us. I was jus
t about to propose a toast!”
“A toast?” She eyed him warily.
“Aye, a toast! To the wickedest pair o’ rogues to sail the seas—Black Sam and Blackbeard!”
The crews gathered around. Tankards were thrust toward the pale moon.
“To the Brethren!”
“To licking Boston with the fires o’ hell!”
Wild cheering drowned out the reports of gleefully fired pistols. Uncertainly, Maria looked up at Sam, and felt his excitement. For once she could read his mind and knew that Teach, for the good or bad of it, would be joining them in the rescue attempt.
But Teach was quick to spot the soft look she bestowed upon his former shipmate. “And what does the Sea Witch have to say about it, eh?” he roared, grabbing a piece of venison from a crewman’s plate.
Maria raised her chin and met Teach’s glittering, demonic gaze. She thought of Nefarious anchored a short distance away, of this devil’s madness in bringing that big ship in over the bar.
“Well?”
Sam’s determination, his charisma, his reckless bravado. Teach’s brute strength and hellish temperament.
“God help Boston,” she said quietly.
Chapter 25
Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst,
And hurls the whole precipitated air
Down in a torrent.
—Thomson
“Captain Ingols, this is quite a preposterous claim. I tell you, the pirate Bellamy is dead and drowned.”
Samuel Shute, Esquire, the recently appointed governor of Massachusetts Bay and New Hampshire, leaned back in his chair, hooked his fingers over the brocaded waistcoat that covered his slight paunch, and regarded the man across the table from him with impatience.
“As he wishes the world to believe, Your Excellency.” James Ingols picked up his glass and absently swirled his port. He smiled, but the gesture was cold and devoid of humor. “I tell you, he is alive, and I beg you to consider my proposition—and the rewards it might bring you.”
“Rewards? Bah!” He began to rise. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other matters that require my attendance. Chasing dead pirates is not amongst them.”
“Your Excellency, I understand your reluctance, but I can assure you that the pirate Bellamy is not dead!”
“I have Southack’s confirmation that he is, and that is all I need.”
“But you heard Captain Beer—”
“Just because Beer spent a couple of hours aboard the Whydah as Bellamy’s prisoner does not make him an authority on the man. Just because Bellamy forced him to endure a tedious speech extolling piracy does not mean he’s able to conclude or confirm the rogue survived the wreck. Just because he happened to see the captain of—what was she called?—yes, this Nefarious, doesn’t mean he’s one and the same as Bellamy. All pirates look alike. Devilish, sunburned, unkempt and impossibly arrogant. ’Twould be a simple matter to mistake one for another. Furthermore, any man imprisoned on Bellamy’s ship can hardly be entrusted to remember every detail of what the villainous knave looked like. Beer was probably terrified out of his senses. Who can blame him for mistaking every pirate he sees for the one who frightened him so?”
Ingols inclined his head. “Assuming that Bellamy is dead—your assumption, not mine—can you deny that this Black character isn’t a thorn in your side? Give him time and he’ll be worse than Bellamy ever was. Clearing the coast of this pestilence can only be to your benefit. Why, think of what a favorable impression it would make upon the king.”
Shute, sucking on his teeth and thinking, regarded the man across from him. If he sent Ingols in pursuit of this new pirate, he could be rid of the man’s nagging and free to concentrate on other, more frustrating problems: his trouble with the Indians, for one; his acceptance by his peers, for another. And regardless of whose body Ingols brought back, he didn’t believe for a moment that Bellamy had survived that cursed shipwreck that had become such a headache for him and the agent, Southack, he’d sent to Eastham to salvage it. He could just picture Bellamy’s ghost laughing at him, laughing at all of them, no doubt, from his seat in hell. And he must have laughed himself right off that seat when back in Eastham, thanks to wind, waves, stubborn Cape Codders, and a certain pirate named Paul Williams, Southack had been unable to salvage anything but a few worthless pieces of that damned ship.
Williams. He was the one Shute ought to be worrying about, not this new knave, Black. Perhaps he should send Ingols out against him, just as Governor Cranston of Rhode Island had tried to do several months past. Maybe he’d have more luck than the hapless Cranston in catching Williams. And if he came up with Black as well as this new devil, Teach, at the same time, it certainly would make an impression upon his king, wouldn’t it? He picked at a tooth. Ingols was correct on that account.
He met the other man’s waiting gaze. “Captain Ingols, I understand your wish to avenge your cousin’s death aboard the Whydah, and I maintain my belief that Bellamy is dead, but perhaps you might direct your attention to his old consort, Paul Williams. Not as satisfying a revenge, but the two of them were, after all, partners. Or, how about this new rogue, Teach, who goes by the name of Blackbeard? Now there’s a problem. He’s going to be more of a nuisance than Bellamy ever was, I fear.” Shute paused, eyeing the other man closely. “That would please me greatly, you know—if you netted me Williams and Teach. You might start by looking around the Isles of Shoals for them both. Teach has made them one of his favorite haunts, I’m told. Has those poor islanders frightened out of their senses.”
“Your Excellency, that is a splendid idea. If not revenge upon Bellamy, then upon Williams who must, I suppose, also be held responsible for my cousin’s death. Of course, there’s always the chance that Black will be found in company with Williams and Teach.”
“Yes, I should think. Very well then.” He leaned back, calling for a servant to bring him paper and pen. “As commander of the king’s ship Majestic you are hereby directed and required to sail for the Isles of Shoals off Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where you’ll join Captain Thorndike of the schooner Porpoise and Lieutenant Smythe in the cutter Essex Rose. Might need the three of you to apprehend Teach. Smythe is young and eager to prove himself, and Thorndike, I believe you’ve met. Good tactician. I’m sure you’ll get on well together.” He inked the quill, scrawled something on the paper, blew on it and pushed it across the table to Ingols. “Here, your orders. Are you satisfied now, Ingols?”
Ingols took the paper. “Thank you, Your Excellency. I promise you shan’t be disappointed.”
“After all this bother, I should hope not. Be prepared to depart immediately. I will send orders to the other commanders and the three of you can work out whatever strategy you deem fit.” The governor pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain, I must bid you good-night. It has been a long, trying day for me.”
“Yes, of course, Your Excellency. Thank you for a most enjoyable dinner, and of course”—he held up the paper—“my orders. I promise, you shall not find cause to regret them.”
Bowing to conceal his triumphant smile, Ingols took his leave.
* * *
Shod hooves clattered against cobblestone as horses trotted past. Carriages, coaches and carts clogged through the streets. Masts rose high above brick and clapboard buildings bordering the wharfs, raucous laughter spilled from a tavern and a dog ran alongside a young broadside peddler, barking. Vendors hawking their wares, voices raised in heated bargaining, the shouts of a merchant as a child stole an orange and bolted through the milling crowd and over it all, the peal of church bells; Boston was a lively town, and Maria had never seen its like.
She clung to Stripes’s arm as they picked their way around crates of produce, cages of squawking chickens, and the occasional pile of horse dung that littered this harborside marketplace.
“I can feel ye shakin’, Maria,” the pirate said in a low tone. “Now, quit yer worryin’, fer God’s sake. How m
any times do I have t’ tell ye? The Cap’n can take care of ’imself.”
Maria lifted her petticoats and stepped over a pile of rotten vegetables. She was every inch the lady, even if the man who escorted her was unmistakably a seaman. Her hair, braided, coiled, and pinned atop her head, was covered by a delicate lace cap. A few soft strands fell about her face, and now she reached up to tuck one back beneath the cap.
“I know he can,” she sighed, gazing wide-eyed at the hustle and bustle surrounding them. Sailors hustled to and fro, vendors offered everything under the sun, smartly-dressed businessmen in silks and velvets pawed through cargoes as they were brought from the ships and set upon the pier. “But this is still dangerous work, and even you will admit that.”
And here, finally, a full view of the harbor. It was dotted with islands and anchored ships, and one of those ships was their own, her name slightly changed to spell Nebulous instead. The sight of her gave Maria a small measure of comfort, and even from this distance she could see someone—Johnnie, maybe?—sitting astride the great jib-boom, legs swinging back and forth, a book in his hand.
But her thoughts were on Sam. “What if someone recognizes him?” she persisted. “What if they get suspicious about his wanting to see the pirates in the gaol?” She stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowds for him. “He should’ve been back by now….”
“Nonsense,” the pirate assured her. “Besides, Black Sam ’as a good reason fer wantin’ t’ see the poor lads. Would ye begrudge a prisoner the right t’ talk to ’is own brother? And the brother bein’ a fancy barrister at that?”
She raised a hand to shade her eyes, swept the crowd a final time, and threw him a sidelong glance. “Is that how he planned on getting in to see them? By saying he was one of their brothers?”
“Aye, Tom Baker’s. Oops, watch out there.” He yanked her aside before she could step in a puddle of mud that looked anything but innocent. “Why, look. All yer worryin’ was fer nothin’, see? ’Ere comes the Cap’n now.”
Pirate In My Arms Page 33
