by Andrea Jones
“Yes. Drop it in the sea. You will never have to look at it again.”
She held it fast. The gold seemed to drag her hand down. That familiar, faint pulse within her soul started up, fighting back. She wanted to believe. Hook’s heart was beating. It had to be beating.
“Jill. Let me help you.”
“Yes, Johann. Help me.” She spoke over her shoulder. “Tell me that you are as fine a storyteller as I.”
“My dear—”
“You lie!” Pushing her toes against the boards, she concentrated. Captain Hook was alive. He never touched the girl. Never—
“You are distressed.”
The Roger. Jill could see it. Hook wasn’t aboard L’Ormonde. He might be on the Roger…
Jill became aware of a sensation. It was pain. Her toes hurt. She was digging them into the deck, trying to shove off from it. But the rough boards were stubborn; they wouldn’t let her go.
The Roger lay just a few leagues away. Cecco was aboard her. If only she could touch him. Then she would know without a doubt. The surgeon’s account had to be a fabrication. Hanover would say anything to break her. She knew it. She would swear Cecco never suspected what happened to Hook! Jill marshaled her faculties and sent all her thoughts flying toward the Roger. All her thoughts— but not herself.
Liza was aboard there, instead. Jill remembered now. Liza didn’t look well. Jill recalled the sight of her opals, these stones she felt at her neck, now, bearing down upon her. Hook’s opals, dangling against Liza’s new dress…as the girl clutched her belly.
No.
Not Hook. The man who took liberties with Liza might be anyone. Yulunga. Not Hook. Not Cecco. Jill shoved Hook’s earring inside her glove. She laid her hands on the balustrade. Her feet rose at last, to swing up to it. Her skirt swirled with them, sighing, and she settled to straddle the taffrail. She felt Hanover seize her waist. She swayed there, fighting off his hands. “Let go. Let me go!”
“My dear, you are hysterical.”
She drew her dagger. “You’re free to believe it. And I’m free to fly.” Her knife flashed as she slashed at him.
He yanked himself back. “Jill!”
She ignored him. Gripping the rail with her heels, Jill leaned into the wind. She closed her eyes, envisioning the Roger’s figurehead— the Beauty…Bellezza. Her own face was carved upon it. The figurehead was she, and she was flying at the fore of her ship. She held the dagger aloft the way the Beauty upheld her hook.
When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t airborne yet, but another miracle had occurred. The Roger was coming about. Cecco must sense she was in trouble. He was coming! Jill stretched out her arms to him. The sun shone on them, shone in his bracelets. She would see their mates shining on his own arms, soon. He was sailing toward her. Jill’s red hand reached for him. He never refused her hand. Cecco’s love for her was true.
Jill was floating now, an inch above the rail. Straining for Cecco, she could see him in her mind. She heard his bangles. She felt his arms surrounding her, embracing her, just as the breeze was doing now. The same breeze that bore the Roger toward her. Induced by that breeze, the Roger’s sails bellied out full…like a woman with child.
Captain Hook’s child…
Jill sank. Concentrating again, she managed to buoy herself. The dagger in her hand belonged to Hook. He’d stowed it under her pillow, to keep her safe. Hook’s protection pulled her, even now. She squeezed the hilt, like a lever, to lift herself up. She rose to float a little higher over the railing. The jewels of his dagger dug into her scarlet palm. Jewels, with which Hook loved to tempt her. The jewels were real, they were solid, like Hook. She could feel him. She felt his lips in the kiss of the wind. She could feel the gems…through her glove. The glove that smothered the stain of Hook’s lifeblood.
A black glove…the color of mourning.
The wood of the rail felt hard beneath her. Jill dropped her longing arms. The wind, not a kiss, whipped her lips.
Jill turned her face away.
Surrendering the dagger to her sash, she looked to the sea below. It was gray again, as on the day Hook disappeared. Gray, as her new husband’s eyes.
Jill didn’t look at the Roger again.
She turned to L’Ormonde.
Hanover settled his hands upon her. Gently, with his strong arms, he pulled her from her perch and set her on the deck. “Madam. You are in shock.” He took her face in his fingers. “Let me tend to you.”
She gazed into those eyes. Gray. The color of nothing.
He smiled and kissed her cold, cold lips.
At the prearranged time, all according to plan, Jill’s charade had ended. But Jill wasn’t home. The wrong man embraced her. On the wrong ship, bearing the wrong direction.
And then Jill recalled Cecco’s fingers around her throat. She remembered the ruthlessness in his eyes…the threat in his voice, the chill of his knife.
Like a bird of prey, the Roger swooped toward her. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Jill churned.
“My own. My Jill. You belong to me now. You must leave everything to your husband.”
“Yes, Johann.” He was the wrong man…but he was right. “I will,” she murmured. “I will trust in my husband.”
She couldn’t fly, but she still possessed her weapons.
And then she did fly— into the loving arms of the surgeon.
Chapter 34
A Parting Word
“Commandant! Mon Commandant! Le Joli Rouge! Il approche! Il approche!”
Hanover stiffened. He jerked up his head to behold the black flag behind L’Ormonde, just like Jill’s skirts, flapping in the breeze.
Feet pounded the deck as men rushed to the rail. Hanover’s gaze shot back to Jill, his eyes accusing. “You knew he would come for you.”
“No. But I should have known.”
Hanover remained angry, but shed his hostility. “Yes, I can read the fright in your face. You must get below. Liza, too.” He looked around. “Where is she?”
Liza was nowhere in sight. LeCorbeau was shouting. The ship’s bell burst into frantic hammering. Renaud and Guillaume chimed in, urging the men to their stations. Sailors scrambled aloft, gun crews ran to their cannons.
“We must find her immediately. Then you will both keep to our quarters. Lock yourselves in.”
“I will settle Liza in. But you married a pirate, Johann. I won’t leave my husband’s side.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “My brave Jill. You must learn to listen to reason.”
“What will you do?”
His hand fell to grip the hilt of his sword. “I will fight, of course. But surely we can outrun them. We have a head start, and L’Ormonde is a lighter vessel.”
“Lighter, because she has fewer guns. And fewer men.” Jill’s pride fought with her fear. “If she grapples us, we haven’t a chance.”
Every man aboard knew it. All worked at top speed to let out every inch of sail and ready the weapons. The crew of L’Ormonde had witnessed the aftermath of the Roger’s battles. After months of sailing as allies, they knew her men too well to stand at the wrong end of their blades.
LeCorbeau strutted to the stern, his spyglass in hand. “So, mon ami, now we are to be treated to treachery! Alors, one can never trust a pirate.” Sharply, he said to Jill, “It would seem, Madame, that I guessed correctly. Your, eh…captain…is unable to part with you.” He raised the spyglass. “Quel dommage. I am not feeling generous today.”
“Nor am I.” The surgeon stared at the rival ship. “The only wonder is that he allowed us to get this far.”
LeCorbeau smirked. “It is no wonder, my dear Doctor. My Guillaume saw to that. With his souvenirs— the clever wedges he pried from the Dutch merchantman.”
Smug now, Hanover said, “So. A taste of her own medicine for the Roger?”
“Yes, certainly. I have only been awaiting the opportunity to administer it.”
“Well done, LeCorbeau. You anticipated a chase, then?�
��
“I am, after all, one of those seamen who believe in the bad luck of lady passengers.” LeCorbeau eyed Jill again. “Especially those who have allied themselves with pirates.”
Jill drew her dignity around her, like a cloak. “Yet you, Commandant, also partner pirates. Do you not?”
Glowering, the Frenchman gave a warning shake of his head, then darted a glance at Hanover.
The surgeon’s face set in determined lines. “No, Jill,” he said, “That unpleasantness is ended. As soon as the wind carries us out of sight, we are forever free.”
Jill looked back at the Roger, magnificent under full white sails, her gilded accoutrements gleaming. She caught the sparkle of water on the oars as the sweeps raised and dipped in the sea. Clearly, Captain Cecco had ordered his men to make all speed. Jill’s heart lagged behind L’Ormonde, dragging like an anchor. She wouldn’t escape Cecco’s wrath. He had sworn it, sealed with their accord.
Hanover said, “And now, LeCorbeau, where have you directed my daughter?”
“I? I remind you, Hanover, all the females aboard my ship are your responsibility. I last saw her dancing with Monsieur Tootles. Clumsy oaf that he is— no doubt you will soon be bandaging the damaged toes.”
“Then you will excuse me.” With grim resolve, Hanover swept Jill along the port side, searching for Liza the while. “I know I saw them toward the stern. I trust that your sons—” He stopped, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “Madam. Surely your sons would not hold a grudge?”
“Oh, no, Johann. They were eager for a fresh start, happy to be part of a family again. You saw them. They behaved like perfect gentlemen.” The couple hurried forward once more.
“Then where have they—”
A distant thunder interrupted him. He and Jill halted, staring at one another. Turning aft, they saw white smoke rising in a cloud. The Roger still sailed well behind, out of range. But she had fired her first, warning shot. The blast of it struck terror in Jill’s heart. The same terror any other quarry would feel.
With increasing urgency, Hanover guided Jill around the deck again, keeping well behind the guns and their crews, peering into every open space between. Cannonballs clanged as they rolled down the iron muzzles. Jill raised her voice to be heard among the mounting shouts of the sailors.
“Perhaps the boys escorted her below, Johann.”
“But they were just here.” Men were running with bags of powder. Pulling Jill from their path, Hanover drew her aft. The couple ascended again to the quarterdeck, where LeCorbeau swiveled his head about, as if he, too, had lost something.
“Renaud!”
His first mate hustled to his side, out of breath.
“Well?”
“I am sorry, Commandant,” said Renaud, “I cannot locate him. He is not at his post.”
“Look in his quarters. Look in his brother’s hammock!”
With a dispirited countenance, Guillaume scurried toward them up the steps, his key ring jingling in his hand. “Commandant, I have already searched there. Mr. Nibs is not to be found.” He looked down at his fingers, at the key to a certain compartment, rubbing it before stashing it away. “Nor is Mr. Tootles.”
Another blast erupted from the Roger. This shot was no warning. It rushed whistling toward L’Ormonde, falling to plunk in the sea not far away. LeCorbeau raised his spyglass. “What is that madman meaning? He must know he cannot catch—” The captain went rigid. He stared through the glass.
“Commandant?”
His words came hissing, softly. “Mon Dieu.”
“What is it, LeCorbeau?” asked Hanover. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” He released Jill and moved to his partner’s side. Renaud and Guillaume turned to stare across the water. Their captain simply stood there, unmoving except for the rippling of the wind in his cuffs.
Jill caught sight of the Roger’s bow. Something had appeared where it didn’t belong, blooming on the bowsprit, above the figurehead. She couldn’t make it out. Silently, LeCorbeau lowered the glass. Hanover intercepted it. In another moment, he, too, exclaimed.
“How? How can this be?”
Jill knew what they saw, now. She laid a gentle hand on her new husband’s shoulder. “Johann. Let me look.”
He turned to her. Disbelief etched his features, the dueling scar a deep red line against his jaw. “It is impossible. And yet I see it.”
Inhaling a steadying breath first, Jill hoisted the glass and examined the Roger. The lens revealed a tri-cornered hat in the crow’s nest: Mr. Noodler. A full complement of men clung to the rigging. As they plunged their weapons in the air, the flash of them stabbed Jill’s eye. She couldn’t hear their jeering over the hubbub of L’Ormonde, but she well remembered it. Below the sails, a large black man leaned into the wind of the prow. A boarding ax waited in his belt. Next to him stood a sturdy man in a blue jacket. It was the unmistakable figure of Tom, his hands behind him as if tied there. Balanced astride the bowsprit rode the muscular form of Cecco. He held a cutlass, and the gleam of its point shone just inches from a huddle of maroon material. A patch of orange hovered above the dress, and a slash of French blue belted its waist: Liza, perched on Nibs’ lap. She dangled above the water, on the beam of the bowsprit, secured there by Nibs’ arms— and little else. To all appearances, the Roger held three hostages.
LeCorbeau’s voice waxed thin. “Renaud.”
His first officer leaned closer to hear his orders. Guillaume supported his captain’s arm. Disbelieving, Hanover listened as the Frenchman delivered a brief command.
“Reef sails.”
“Oui, Commandant.”
Renaud moved to execute the order, but halted as LeCorbeau clutched his coat. “And…” LeCorbeau rotated, slowly, to level a vicious glare at Jill. “Strike the colors.”
Renaud turned his head, as if he hadn’t heard right. “Monsieur?”
“You heard me! Surrender!”
“The ship, Monsieur?”
Hanover strode forward. “LeCorbeau. You cannot do this!”
“Don’t be a fool. Of course I shall not surrender my ship.”
“Then— what is your strategy?”
Jill inched backward. From under her lashes, she watched LeCorbeau. His glittering stare pierced her.
“It is not my ship that Captain Cecco desires.” With increasing malevolence, he rolled his black eyes toward Hanover. “He wants your wife.”
Hanover staggered. “LeCorbeau…”
“It is even as I feared. The pirate makes the exchange, only to steal the goods later. Well. He shall have them!”
“No! Not after all I’ve endured to win her. My wife stays with me.”
“Je regrette, mon ami. But I can afford to part with only one of you.”
“We will negotiate. I will give him the remainder of my diamonds—” Hanover faced his wife. “Jill, you must give them up. Where have you stored the rest of our riches?”
Jill’s complexion was white. “Johann—”
The captain swore. “Had the man desired your diamonds, Monsieur, he would already possess them! Mon Dieu, he is as stubborn as you! He will not relent until he holds Red-Handed Jill.” He shoved his mate forward. “Renaud, carry out my order!”
“No, LeCorbeau,” persisted Hanover, “You are a fighting man. You must resist these pirates.”
“A fighting man, yes. My ship and my men are prepared for battle. But it is one thing to attack a merchant vessel of limited crew. Quite another to rescue hostages and fend off a pack of pirates!” He frowned at the Roger. “Hook’s pirates.”
Hanover dropped his gaze. “Hostages…”
LeCorbeau hissed, “If we are to remove your daughter and my Mr. Nibs from Captain Cecco’s grasp, your woman must be the price.”
“Too high a price.”
“Johann.” Jill stood rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe. The men turned to her. “Captain Cecco has no wish to recapture me.”
Hanover lowered his brows. “I don
’t understand.”
“If he wanted to keep me, he would have challenged you before we left his ship.”
“He is challenging me now!”
“No, Johann. Captain Cecco wishes to preserve your well-being. After all, he has an interest in your survival.”
“But this makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. He has demanded a piece of your future. Has he not, Commandant?”
“Oui. It is true.”
Hanover spun to glare at the Frenchman. “You never promised him—”
“But of course I promised. You instructed me to bargain as high as necessary. In any case, I had no recourse but to agree. The greedy man would not release you without such an arrangement.” LeCorbeau shrugged. “There was little to be gained by denying him.”
“Exactly what have you done?”
“I have agreed to deliver a percentage of our profits. The first rendezvous shall take place in one year’s time. Like it or not, you now find yourself in partnership with your adversary. He and I both have reason to keep you healthy.”
“Then I will have the advantage.” Hanover squared his shoulders. “I will fight him— for Jill, for Liza. For Mr. Nibs, even.”
As he gripped his sword, Jill touched his sleeve with her black glove. “No, Johann. It will not be necessary to fight.”
“Jill…What do you know of this situation?”
“I know that Captain LeCorbeau must allow the men of the Roger to board L’Ormonde. I know they will not harm you. Captain Cecco will release Nibs and Liza, and maybe even Tom.”
“And carry you away?”
“No. Cecco will not take me back. It is too late for that.”
“Then—”
“He made me a promise.”
“A promise! More gold, I suppose. Or my diamonds?”
“No, Johann.” Jill’s gaze held steady. “Captain Cecco promised to kill me.”
Hanover’s horrified silence was shattered— by another blast from Cecco’s cannons.
§ § §
The moment the grappling hooks dug in, the officers of the Roger swung across. Mr. Yulunga and his ax, Mr. Smee, Mr. Mullins and Mr. Starkey, all armed with blazing cutlasses, pistols at the ready, and daggers in their teeth. The mass of the Roger loomed behind them, her sails furled and her black flag streaming, her masts tall as the pines from which they were cut. Jill watched her warriors, fearful and fascinated by the force Captain Hook had constructed. Their calls echoed in crescendo, a cacophony of threats fierce enough to eliminate resistance before it began. A practiced chant from merciless men, led now by Hook’s successor— a man just as dangerous as he, every bit as ruthless, and, perhaps, more passionate.
