Captain Poole’s hard features softened into a grin, and a deep chuckle bellowed from within his gut. “Aye, that be a true word ye spoke. But I’ll have to ask ye to hand over yer weapons, in any case.”
Nathaniel handed his sword, hilt first, to a pirate who came forward to retrieve it. He prayed Gavin would do the same. Though a groan emanated from his lips, his young second mate followed suit. Relieved, the captain seemed to possess a sense of humor and, for the moment, was disinclined to do them harm. Nathaniel wondered how long that intent would last.
Hope continued comforting Mrs. Hendrick and Elise. The major struggled to his feet and attempted to brush the sand from his breeches. A jagged wound marred Mr. Hendrick’s left cheek as he stared at the proceedings, mouth agape and a look of horror on his face.
“There were others, Captain,” Nathaniel said, remembering the other men who’d left with the major. “Four sailors, I believe.”
“Aye.” Captain Poole stuck his thumbs into his breeches. He nodded toward his ship. “They guard me ship with the rest o’ me men.”
Nathaniel nodded. When given the choice of turning pirate or dying, most seamen chose the former. But Nathaniel would never consider such an option. He must find another way to convince this man not only to let them live but also to rescue them from this island. “Our ship went down in the storm, and we’ve been stranded on this island for weeks.”
Captain Poole doffed his hat and ran a hand through his coal black hair. “And what d’ye want me to do about it?”
“Since you are merciful pirates, give us safe passage to Kingstown.”
Captain Poole grinned, revealing an unusually full set of teeth, then kicked sand up with his boot. “And what will ye give me in return?” His gaze locked upon Hope. “We’ve been out t’ sea for quite some time, if ye know what I mean.”
“Our undying gratitude, Captain.” Nathaniel bowed, hoping to draw the man’s gaze off of Hope.
“Strike me down.” The captain snickered, but his eyes never left her. “But I was thinkin’ of something a tad more warm and soft.”
Mrs. Hendrick’s sobs shot up in volume. Nathaniel ground his foot into the sand, eyeing her protruding belly. Surely these cretins were not cruel enough to harm a woman in her delicate condition.
“Haven’t you had enough rapine?” Gavin voiced Nathaniel’s concern with more disgust than Nathaniel would have liked.
Captain Poole seemed unaffected by his tone. Instead his face scrunched, and his eyes moved from Hope to Mrs. Hendrick. “Her? Nay. A bit of a shrew, if ye ask me, but I make it a habit never to steal another man’s wife. Was done to me once by a motherless Judas, and I’ll not stand for it.”
Nathaniel shook his head at the pirate’s odd sense of decency.
Without warning, Captain Poole grabbed Hope by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “I’ll grant ye safe passage for the woman.” He flung an arm around her waist and pressed her against him. Her face paled, and her frenzied gaze met Nathaniel’s. The pirate sniffed her hair, recoiled, then fingered it. “Doesn’t smell like a lady, but she feels like one.”
Blood drained from Nathaniel’s head. His chest tightened, and his mind reeled, searching for a way to save her. “You cannot have her.”
Captain Poole flinched and his eyes narrowed. “And why not?”
“She’s my wife.” The thought had barely passed through his mind before it formed on his tongue and left his lips.
Hope’s jaw dropped.
“Yer wife, you say?” Captain Poole eyed him suspiciously, then examined Hope again.
Major Paine snorted, and for a moment Nathaniel thought he would reveal the ruse. But one stern glance silenced him, and he turned away.
“Very well. Take yer wife.” He shoved Hope toward Nathaniel, and she barreled into him. Grabbing her, he eased her behind him again.
“I’m beginnin’ to hate that code o’ mine.” Captain Poole spat onto the sand, then crossed his arms over his chest. “But now ye have naught to bargain with, sir.”
Hoots and hollers blared from behind Nathaniel, where Captain Poole’s men broke through the line of trees, Hanson, Kreggs, and Abigail struggling in their grasps. At the sight of Abigail, Captain Poole’s eyes once again glinted with delight.
“What have we here?” He sauntered up the beach to meet his men and halted before Abigail. Her chestnut hair flowed in ringlets over her shoulders, and she met the pirate’s gaze with brazen confidence. Nathaniel’s throat went dry.
“And who might you be?”
“Abigail Sheldon.” She raised her chin toward him as the pirates released her arms.
Captain Poole eased a finger toward her cheek, but she flinched and backed away, making him cock his head in interest. “And are ye married as well, Miss Sheldon?”
Nathaniel nodded a frenzied yes in her direction, hoping she’d see him over the pirate’s shoulder. When she didn’t, he faced Gavin, using his eyes to urge the man to claim her. Gavin furrowed his brow, then nodded and opened his mouth, but Abigail’s voice rang across the beach.
“Nay, I am not married, sir,” she replied, her chest heaving. “What is that to you?”
Captain Poole threw back his head as a deep chuckle rose from his belly. Scanning his crew, he snapped his fingers, and the pirates released Kreggs and Hanson. “Is that all o’ them?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Very good.” He grabbed Abigail’s arm and turned to Nathaniel. “This girl will suffice for your fare.”
Nathaniel’s heart cramped. He started toward the captain when Hope wove around him and darted to Abigail and Captain Poole, all the while shouting, “Release her at once! She is not for sale.”
The captain and his crew froze in mid-stride and gaped at this slip of a woman who dared defy a band of pirates.
Clenching his fists, Nathaniel stormed after Hope. Lord, I need Your help.
Hope grabbed Abigail’s other arm, attempting to pull her from the pirate’s grasp.
“You should control your wife, sir.” The captain huffed, a look of shock still on his face.
“Believe me, I have tried.” Nathaniel took a stand beside her. “Nevertheless, she is correct. We will not use a human being as barter.”
Gavin came alongside him, his face red with fury.
“Then I’ll take her for free.” The captain jerked Abigail from Hope’s grasp and turned toward the seclusion of the forest.
“Captain, please do not.” Hope cornered him and threw herself in his path. “Take me instead.”
“No, Hope.” Nathaniel barreled after her.
Abigail shook her head, her eyes moistening. “Do not do this.”
Captain Poole’s lips twisted as his malevolent gaze flickered over Hope. “As I’ve told ye, I’ll not be touchin’ another man’s wife.” Pushing Hope aside, he stormed forward.
“But she is on her way to Kingstown to be a missionary.” Hope grabbed his arm, stopping him once again. “I am nobody, but she will do great things for God.”
“God, you say?” The pirate’s face contorted, and his head jerked back as if someone had punched him. “A missionary?” He dropped Abigail’s arm and slowly retreated from her. She fell into Hope’s embrace, and Nathaniel threw himself between the ladies and Poole, not caring at the moment by what odd turn of events they had been delivered.
“’Tis a godly woman!” Captain Poole bellowed to his crew crowding around them.
Groans of disappointment and gasps of trepidation filled the air as if the captain had just informed the band of men they were outgunned. Nathaniel shook his head at the madness but offered a silent prayer of thanks just the same.
Doffing his hat, Poole wiped the sweat from his brow. “No one touches ’er, or the other one neither, or ye’ll answer t’ me!”
A mixture of fear and respect alighted upon the pirate captain’s face. “I’ll not be riskin’ the anger o’ the Almighty,” he mumbled to himself, his gaze locked upon Abigail. “Well, no ma
tter.” He shrugged and faced Nathaniel. “Give us food and water. We shall partake of yer hospitality for a few days and then be on our way. An’ if ye do not give us trouble, we may permit ye to live.”
Gavin started toward him, his mouth a firm line of protest, but Nathaniel held up a hand to stop him.
The captain huffed out his disgust, then directed a probing gaze at Nathaniel. “I see the same anger burns in yer eyes as in yer friend’s, yet ye keep it under hatches. The sign of strength.” He slapped Nathaniel on the back. “I like ye, Mr. Mason. I may yet let ye live.” With that, he sauntered toward the camp, his crew ambling after him.
Nathaniel released a heavy sigh. At least the women were safe, though he had no idea how long this pirate’s moral code would stand up against his lewd desires. Nor did he know how to convince him to take them to Kingstown. With the fruit on the island nearly gone and the fishing uncertain, they would not last much longer. And if they were delayed another week or two, Nathaniel’s ship, the Illusive Hope, that was to meet him in Kingstown, might leave without him. Then he would have no way to get back to Charles Towne.
Hope released Abigail and raised her eyes to Nathaniel, appreciation beaming from their blue depths.
A hideous scream filled the air, jolting him and drawing their attention to the shore.
Nathaniel charged across the sand, Gavin, Hope, and Abigail on his heels.
Mrs. Hendrick lay folded on the ground, her arms clutching her belly. Mr. Hendrick had his hand on her back and a look of fright on his face. Little Elise sat beside her mother, tears streaming down her face.
Hope and Abigail dropped to Mrs. Hendrick’s side and whispered to her. She uttered a loud, sickly moan that sent shivers down Nathaniel’s back.
“What is the matter? Is she ill?” Mr. Hendrick asked.
Hope glanced at him and then over to Nathaniel. “Nay, I fear the baby comes.”
CHAPTER 23
Hope gathered a mound of soft plantain leaves, then squeezed her arm beneath Mrs. Hendrick’s shoulders and gently lifted her, easing the makeshift pillow beneath her head. Mrs. Hendrick groaned and pried her eyes open. Hope turned away, swiped the tears from her cheeks, and avoided her gaze—avoided the question she knew would rise to Mrs. Hendrick’s lips and the answer Hope knew she must give.
On the other side of Mrs. Hendrick, Abigail gathered bloody cloths, a quiet sob escaping her lips. Her eyes met Hope’s, and she laid a gentle hand upon her arm.
“There was naught we could do.”
“I know.” Hope swallowed, not allowing her eyes to wander toward the tiny bundle in the corner of the hut. The tiny bundle who would never have a chance to live, the tiny bundle who would never grow to be a man.
Mrs. Hendrick’s agonized screams continued to blare through Hope’s ears, drilling holes in the calm exterior she’d managed to maintain during the ordeal. Each torturous wail had brought Hope back to Portsmouth, sitting in the hallway outside her mother’s chamber, trembling in anguish and fright. Only this time, Hope had been forced to watch as Mrs. Hendrick writhed in agony, watch the pain etch lines of misery on her comely face, watch as she expelled the lifeless child from her body. And Hope saw her mother in each dreadful trial. The physicians could do naught to ease her mother’s pain, just as Abigail and Hope could do naught to ease Mrs. Hendrick’s.
Hope lifted the bloodstained sailcloth covering Mrs. Hendrick and peeked beneath it. A shudder ran through her. “She’s bleeding again.”
“I’ll go get some more bedding and fresh cloths.” Abigail stood, her arms full of stained rags. “And some water.”
A warm night breeze wafted in through the open flap as Abigail left, bringing with it the smell of smoke and salt. It danced through a strand of Mrs. Hendrick’s mahogany hair lying on her forehead, and Hope brushed it aside, admiring the woman’s beauty.
Mrs. Hendrick moaned and grabbed Hope’s hand, startling her. Another breeze swept in, sending the two lanterns perched on either side of the hut flickering their light like sparkling jewels across Mrs. Hendrick’s eyes.
“Boy or girl?” she rasped.
“Boy.” A tear slid down Hope’s cheek, and batting it away, she grabbed a cloth and wiped the perspiration from Mrs. Hendrick’s forehead. “You must rest now.”
Her breathing grew ragged, and she eased her other hand over her flat belly. “A boy. William, like his father,” she whispered, then squeezed her eyes shut. A tear slid from the corner of her eye and trickled down into her hair. “I know he didn’t survive.”
Hope caressed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Hendrick’s eyes popped open, and she studied Hope. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “Mr. Hendrick will be angry.”
Hope flinched. “Nay, how could he blame you for what happened?”
“I never do anything right.” Mrs. Hendrick struggled to rise.
Hope gently pressed her shoulders down. “That’s rubbish, and you know it.” Fury raged through Hope. Fury at Mr. Hendrick’s stubborn pride. He should not have taken his wife and child on a raft upon the open sea. If the child’s death was anyone’s fault, it was his and his alone.
“Elise.” Mrs. Hendrick gripped Hope’s arm, her eyes wide.
“She is well.” Hope patted her hand. “She is with her father. They are both worried about you.”
The lines on Mrs. Hendrick’s face folded, and gasping, she threw both hands to her stomach. “You’ve been so kind to me, and I’ve been naught but...” She wailed then slumped onto the bed, panting.
A spark of fear shot through Hope. The pains of birth should be over now. “It matters not, Mrs. Hendrick. Just rest. Abigail has gone for some more bedding and some tea so you can regain your strength.”
“Please call me Eleanor.”
“Eleanor.”
Laughter coupled with profane curses rumbled in the distance like thunder, reminding Hope they were no longer alone on the island. At least Captain Poole had allowed her and Abigail to attend to Mrs. Hendrick during her lying-in. And he had provided the cloths and lanterns they requested. Perhaps the pirate captain possessed some measure of compassion despite the vile behavior he demonstrated when they had first come ashore.
“He loved me once.” The soft, scratchy sound of Mrs. Hendrick’s voice brought Hope’s attention back to her. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the roof of the hut, and a slight smile teased her lips.
“I am sure he loves you still.” Hope ran her fingers through the damp hair around Eleanor’s face, wondering all the while where her adoring husband had gotten himself off to.
“He was so agreeable, so attentive and caring. A real gentleman. All the women adored him. But he had eyes for only me.” She winced and pressed a hand to her belly, then caught her breath, and her smile returned. “He had everything a woman could want: wealth, looks, wit, and charm. I must admit, I was quite captivated.”
Eleanor’s description brought another man to Hope’s mind, a man much like Mr. Hendrick—Lord Falkland. Shaking the vision away, Hope mused over Eleanor’s words. Mr. Hendrick. Attentive? Caring? He seemed anything but those things—especially with his beautiful wife. “He is a fine man, I’m sure.”
Eleanor laughed. “He is a cad, and you know it.” She closed her eyes. “Elise is the only good thing that came from him.”
Hope raised a brow at the woman’s honesty, then peered beneath the sailcloth once again. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to keep the fear from her face. Where was Abigail? The bleeding had grown worse.
Mrs. Hendrick’s moist eyes flickered with sorrow. “Can I tell you something?”
Hope nodded.
“Elise was conceived before we were married.” Eleanor searched Hope’s face tentatively, and then she released a sigh. “I knew you would not judge me. Perhaps that is why I loathed you so much when we first met. I saw myself in you and hated you for it.”
Shock held Hope’s tongue. She never would have thought this fine lady would have behaved with su
ch impropriety as to give herself to a man before wedlock, nor divulged such an indiscretion to anyone—especially Hope. That Mrs. Hendrick hated Hope she had not kept secret, but Hope never could have imagined her true reason.
“He married me, of course.” She waved a hand through the air, then dropped it as if the effort exhausted her. “But soon after the wedding, he changed. He stopped spending time with me. He rarely paid me a compliment. He spent hours and hours away from home. He drank heavily, and I oft smelled perfume on his clothes. Nothing I did was good enough for him. He criticized the way I managed the household, the way I dressed, my conversation, even the way I laughed.” Tears poured from her eyes and dripped onto the leaves beside her head. “And of course I disappointed him with Elise. He wanted a son.”
“I’m so sorry, Eleanor.” Hope could not imagine the despair of such rejection. Would Lord Falkland have done the same thing had they been married? Yet as thoughts of his recent betrayal burned in her memory, she already knew the answer. Even amidst the torment of the past month, even amidst the despair of the present moment, a bud of relief sprang up within Hope. Though she and Eleanor had traveled down the same road, Hope had thus far been spared the same tragic fate. Why? She certainly did not deserve a reprieve.
“I fear he’s never warmed to Elise.” Agony cracked Eleanor’s voice.
Hope pressed her hand over a tangible pain in her heart—a pain for both Eleanor and Elise, but especially for Elise, for Hope knew what it felt like to grow up without a father’s love.
“I gave myself to him wholly, thinking I could win his love.” Eleanor struggled to catch her breath. “But in the end, all I won was his hate.”
“Shhh, now. You must rest.” Hope took her hand, shocked by how cold and limp it suddenly felt.
Eleanor shifted her misty eyes to Hope. “I used to be beautiful like you.”
“You are still comely, Eleanor.” Hope brushed her fingers across Eleanor’s cheek. “I was most jealous of you when I first saw you.”
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