Other Oceans

by Andrea Jones

  He stood on the rail of the Roger, staring at Jill. With his hair bound back under his gypsy crown, with his weighty necklace, and his vest barely covering his upper body, Cecco looked as savage as his notoriety claimed. Jill felt Hanover tightening his grip on her shoulders. Scanning the faces of Cecco’s officers, she found herself leaning toward the shelter of the surgeon. To a man, the pirates’ weathered features showed no lenience. Even Smee’s eyes reproached her behind his spectacles. She was Mrs. Heinrich now. A traitor to the Roger.

  Mullins turned to toss his cable back. Cecco caught it. He leapt from the ship and soared to L’Ormonde, his dark eyes colder than Jill had ever seen them— no flicker of love left to warm her. Even the glint of his jewelry struck chill.

  On the portside, two planks bounced into position, and the bulk of the Roger’s pirates stamped across, bellowing, swarming over L’Ormonde. Within seconds LeCorbeau’s crew stood surrounded. As ordered by their captain, the Frenchmen stowed their swords. Starkey directed the victors as they herded the privateers toward the bow. Only LeCorbeau and his mates were left to stand before the mast, Hanover and Jill beside them. Dainty remains of the wedding feast lay spread on the table close by, the festive cask of wine near its head. The cries of the pirates died down, their weaponry lowered, and all hands turned to watch the captains.

  LeCorbeau donned a sardonic smile. “Well, my partner. I had not thought to meet up with you again so soon.”

  “You did your best to prevent it.” Cecco’s broad shoulders were relaxed, but ready. His cutlass, too.

  The Frenchman flung up his hands. “Merely a precaution against foul play. But, eh, you are welcome aboard. I trust you will inflict no damage, now that I have so grandly made this gesture.”

  “No damage that will distress you, my friend.” Cecco’s bangles played their familiar music as he set his hands on his weapons. Jill’s heart sped at the sound. Once upon a time, she had welcomed it. Now it filled her with dread.

  “Madame assures me, Captain Cecco, that your business is with her alone?”

  Cecco’s glacial gaze burned into her. “Yes. I have come for Red-Handed Jill.” Like a living thing, anxiety rose within her, railing against her ribs.

  Hanover stepped in front of Jill. “The lady is now my wife. Mrs. Heinrich.”

  “Ah, Doctor. My newest partner. Yes, I witnessed the festivities. This is the reason I am here.”

  “Captain, I must protest! You released the lady this morning. To go back on your word now is beneath you.”

  Cecco came forward to stand before the doctor. “But I do not go back on my word. I come now to keep it.”

  “You’ll keep it over my corpse.”

  LeCorbeau hastened closer to reason with Cecco, attempting to draw him off. “Eh, you must excuse our doctor, Captain. He has not yet come to terms with our arrangement. Perhaps it will help him to see his daughter again?”

  “Yes.” Cecco turned to Yulunga. “Send for the prisoners.”

  Glancing across the water, LeCorbeau identified Nibs and sighed in satisfaction.

  Yulunga gestured to the Roger, calling, “Permission to board!”

  Nibs jumped on the plank and reached for Liza. Supporting her with a firm grasp, he assisted her across. Her eyes were frightened, her face pale as parchment. Tom followed, with his hand on her shoulder. Except for their blue jackets and Nibs’ orange kerchief, the two men’s clothing looked damp. When the prisoners descended to the deck, neither man released the girl, but instead stood protectively around her.

  Moving to the portside rail, Mullins and Yulunga took up stations behind them, like jailers. Aware of Yulunga’s proximity, Liza stood as if frozen, staring into her father’s eyes. He nodded encouragement to his daughter, and she breathed more easily.

  Jill looked Liza over. Her empty insides hurt as she became aware that the young woman held one hand on her belly, as if to protect her precious burden. Jill had raised several sons, not of her flesh, but, unlike herself, Liza bore a child in her womb. Jill didn’t know that feeling. Did Liza, too, sense a lover’s pulse beating within her? Jill stood staring, her new knowledge smarting like a fresh, raw wound. Her jewelry glimmered on her arms, her ankles, her neck, fingers, and ears. Her red hand in its black disguise rested on her abdomen— the one part of her body devoid of treasure. How much had Liza stolen?

  Hanover put an end to her reflections, nudging his wife backward. He turned to Cecco. “I am pleased to see my daughter’s return, and my stepsons’ also. I cannot, however, stand by and watch you wreak your vengeance on my wife.” He drew his rapier singing from its sheath. “I can do no less than to challenge you.”

  “Very clever, Doctor. By now you know I have no wish to harm you. Which, assuredly, were I to accept your challenge, I would do.” Cecco gazed past Hanover, to Jill. “Let us leave it to the lady to propose the conditions of her surrender.”

  As he stood before her, unrelenting and ominous in the strong sun, Jill blinked at the glare of his regalia. At the same time, Mullins raised his cutlass. Yulunga hoisted his ax. Flanking Liza, Nibs and Tom stood between these weapons. Cecco didn’t have to turn to watch his orders to threaten Jill’s sons carried out. He could see the alarm in her eyes. Hanover exclaimed, and LeCorbeau backed off, swearing.

  Cecco smiled. “Jill. Lovely one. You are a brilliant strategist. How do you suggest we come to terms?”

  Jill made to step out from behind Hanover, but he blocked her. “No, Jill. This is a fight between men.”

  “My dear Doctor,” Jill said, “Will you never understand?” She slipped around him. “If it weren’t for a woman, no one I love would be in peril.” She turned to face Cecco. Her black silks surrounded her. Her fair hair shone. “I have done my duty, and I stand by my actions. Captain Cecco, I leave it to you to judge.”

  At last, Cecco laid his hands upon her. He drew her away from Hanover, who stood scowling at them, his sword poised to strike. But Smee had sidled up behind Hanover. The instant the surgeon moved, Smee gripped his wrist. Smee’s cutlass rose swiftly to caress the man’s cheek. “Let’s not be hasty, now, Mister Hanover.”

  Restraining his partner’s other arm, LeCorbeau reasoned, “Calm yourself, Hanover. Let us hear what the woman proposes.” He turned a look of suspicion upon the female who had caused him so much inconvenience.

  Standing before Cecco, Jill glanced again at her sons’ predicament, then raised her chin. “Sir. I am trusting you.”

  “As I trusted you.” Cecco wrapped his hand around her throat. Jill felt the heat of it.

  Nibs and Tom shifted. Mullins and Yulunga moved malignantly closer to the prisoners, narrowing their circle.

  Cecco’s grip on Jill’s neck tightened. She felt the opals, beneath his palm, digging into her flesh. Cecco looked into her eyes. His gaze was warm, now, affectionate, as if he meant to stroke instead of strangle her. To ease her gagging, Jill raised up on her tiptoes. She clutched Cecco’s forearms. Her body tautened as she waited for the pressure of his fingers to increase.

  Hanover struggled against Smee, but Smee held firm as his cutlass guaranteed to carve another scar. LeCorbeau’s grip, too, confined the surgeon, and Hanover held his tongue, sensible that the sound of his voice might spur Cecco to the murder he promised.

  As he restrained Hanover, Smee stood tensed, ready for anything. He’d seen Jill charm her way out of worse situations. As Mrs. Heinrich, she was still a match for a captain. Smee wouldn’t have to allow the surgeon to intervene. The gypsy couldn’t live without Jill— and he wouldn’t have to. Hook’s own sword would see to that.

  But now, teetering on her toes, Jill could draw barely enough breath to speak. Her voice was reedy. “The terms of our accord—”

  “Are intact.” Cecco relaxed. He smiled his gypsy smile. “Mr. Nibs delivered your message.” With his free hand, Cecco pulled a leather pouch from his vest. It was nicely weighted with a fistful of diamonds. As he dangled the pouch before Jill’s eyes, it swung in a satisfying ma
nner. His voice softened. “My Jill would never leave her jewels behind. Your heart is as loyal as my own.” He lowered the bag into her black-gloved hand. “You would have returned to me, if you were able.”

  Recognizing the pouch, Hanover gasped. By the port rail, Mullins and Yulunga dropped their threatening stances. Nibs and Tom loosened up, laughing out loud, and between the brothers, Liza gaped, bewildered, as Cecco employed his grip on Jill’s throat again— this time to draw his queen toward him, just as the Roger had grappled L’Ormonde.

  Breathing freely again, Jill broke out a beautiful smile. She knew her captain; his love for her was true. As all doubt disappeared, she clasped her plunder and pressed against him. Cecco crushed his lady in his embrace, and to the hoots and hollers of two ships’ crews, the lovers kissed with all their accustomed ardor, and more.

  “Unhand my wife!”

  Hanover’s face was livid, his scar an ugly gash. As he struggled with Smee, he heard the Irishman murmur at his ear, “Wait your chance, mate.” At the same moment, Hanover felt Smee’s grip slacken. Confused, Hanover turned toward his captor. Could Smee be taking his side?

  The bo’sun nodded, then his grasp on Hanover dwindled to a mere pretense of restraint. The men around them were cheering their captain and tucking their weapons away. Surprised but ready, Hanover watched his wife, waiting for his opportunity.

  Smee leaned toward LeCorbeau and nudged him. The Frenchman immediately perceived Smee’s shift of allegiance. Subtly, while seeming to watch Captain Cecco, he turned an ear in Smee’s direction.

  Smee’s Irish lilt fell softly. “If you’ll be backing my captaincy, I’ll be sparing you this partnership. Your profits will be your own.” Hanover heard it, too. LeCorbeau aimed a questioning look toward Nibs, and Smee answered, “Aye. I’ll throw two young shipmates into the bargain.” LeCorbeau’s nod of agreement was swift.

  Always at his captain’s side, Renaud was ready for LeCorbeau’s order. It came so low amid the pirates’ hilarity that he hardly heard it. “Secure Nibs and the girl. We follow the Irishman.” With a jerk of his head, LeCorbeau ordered the message relayed. A few moments later, Guillaume slipped away toward the bow to spread the word among his shipmates.

  Cecco released his Jill at last and, smiling, raised her hand in his own. Their matching armbands gleamed. “Well, men. We have recovered our queen. Shall we stay for the wedding feast, or cast off for the honeymoon?”

  His men laughed and slapped each other on the back. Those among L’Ormonde’s crew did the same with the French sailors, their friendships restored. Everyone grew easy, eager to enjoy the old accord.

  Even Smee smiled broadly as he seemed to grapple with Hanover. All affability, he called, “Begging your pardon, Captain. I’m guessing the doctor here has a parting word to say to his wife.”

  “Yes,” Cecco turned to the surgeon. “The word is…‘farewell.’” He waved an arm and, preparing to lead Jill to the Roger, turned his back.

  “Sorry, Captain.” Smee was still grinning. “I’m thinking of a different word.”

  Cecco froze. The smile fell from his face. He turned slowly to stare at his bo’sun.

  “Lady,” Smee said. “I’m giving you the word. From himself.”

  Jill nearly dropped her diamonds.

  Smee’s voice was kindly, but authoritative. “It’s time to be giving up your gypsy, Jill.”

  The Roger’s men turned astonished faces toward their captain. LeCorbeau stepped aside, slyly loosing his rapier. Renaud followed suit as the blue-coated sailors at the bow observed, and imitated.

  Hanover stood up straight, a superior smile on his lips. “You are correct, Captain. ‘Farewell’ is the precise word.” He yanked his sword arm free. “Jill—”

  “Must be choosing one of us, for good and all.” Smee strode forward, his cutlass raised, “And that’s an order.”

  “Fight, men!” LeCorbeau hoisted his sword high, “For L’Ormonde!” He launched into action, his cuff fluttering as his rapier flew to engage Yulunga. Unprepared, the African jerked back. He drew his cutlass and slapped it at LeCorbeau’s rapier, as if attacked by an angry bee. The little captain persevered in a series of stings, driving the massive man aft, away from the group of hostages.

  Hanover rushed at Cecco. The pirate dropped Jill’s hand and seized his sword, drawing it just in time to stop a deadly thrust. Hanover’s eyes lit up. At liberty at last, he wielded his weapon against his rival. He had determined that when he finished, Jill’s choice would be final; a dead man couldn’t keep her. Cecco resolved much the same, and with a taste for battle, the gentleman and the gypsy fell to.

  Smee cleared their way, commandeering Jill’s arm and whisking her forward along the deck. Shocked by Smee’s revolt, Jill looked around, expecting to discover the reason for it. All she saw was chaos as LeCorbeau’s men unleashed their weapons to defend their ship. Taken by surprise, the pirates of the Roger fell back to regroup. The battle spread over the boards.

  Upon his captain’s command, Renaud had charged, swinging his sword at Tom. Tom didn’t wait. He vaulted to the plank and retreated to the Roger. Renaud sneered, redirecting his threat to Nibs. “Come along, Monsieur Nibs, and bring the girl. If you make no trouble, I will let your coward of a brother go free.”

  “Come and get her!” Nibs dragged Liza backward and shoved her down in the lee of the nearest cannon. Shielding her, he seized the dagger hidden in his boot, and dodged Renaud’s blade. Then he put the dagger to use, up and down, stopping Renaud’s rapier with clanging jolts until the sound of Tom’s feet pounded the plank.

  “Nibs!”

  Glancing up, Nibs caught the cutlass as it sailed through the air. He turned to Renaud again, and smiled. In short order, the sneer dropped from Renaud’s face.

  Tom held two more swords, fresh from the Roger. Gripping one in each fist, he looked to see where he was needed most. To Tom’s right, LeCorbeau had been joined by Guillaume. The slender mate fought bravely, baiting the swinging ax in one of Yulunga’s hands as his captain’s sword battered the cutlass in the other. To Tom’s left, Smee was ushering Jill to safety. Nibs had Renaud at bay. Mullins’ beefy hands were full fending off the blond sailor who, spouting French and leading a bunch from the bow, had broken away and headed to portside to reclaim Liza. Tom jumped into the fray to fight side by side with Mullins.

  Smee kept Jill moving to the fore until he pushed her into the shelter of the gunwale. She pulled her gaze from the mayhem to give him a desperate, questioning stare. “Conor! What can you be meaning?”

  Casting a look around for peril first, Smee gazed down upon her. His eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. “Only this,” with one hand clutching his cutlass, Smee snatched her into his arms. He lifted her chin and held it. Then, leaning close, he murmured a dear, familiar phrase.

  “‘…my love.’”

  He kissed her.

  Without thinking, Jill responded to those words: Hook’s words. She let her arms accept him. With the noise of battle all around, the lost captain’s companions— one man and one woman— joined together.

  Jill’s heart leapt up inside her, as if convinced this kiss came from Hook himself. Like a tidal wave, the current of his embrace carried her above the conflict. She was floating. Just for a moment, a flash of time, her toes deserted the deck. Then the clash and clamor surrounded her again, the boards were rough beneath her feet— and Smee was gone.

  Jill caught herself and steadied. There was a battle to be won. She had no intention of hiding in the gunwales. The blue of her eyes turned steely as she tucked away her diamonds. Pulling Hook’s dagger from her sash, she looked first for her sons. Hook had seen to their training; Nibs and Tom were manfully handling the fray.

  Jill searched the deck of L’Ormonde. Swords rang, blazing in the sunlight. By the mainmast, the white cloth on the table was stained scarlet, goblets lay scattered. The Frenchmen’s blue coats mingled with the colors of the pirates. This fight was unanticipated, and Jill per
ceived that, reluctant to massacre men they considered companions, both crews were marking time, straining to make out the intentions of their captains. Jill looked up to find the rigging bereft of men. No menace there— nor a savior. Dreading the scene that most affected her, Jill braced herself and looked to her lovers.

  Cecco and Hanover fought at each others’ throats. Their sword hilts crossed, their faces hung inches apart. Cecco’s eye held a murderous glint as he set his jaw and shoved. Hanover, his sandy hair disheveled, leaned into the struggle, his teeth gritted and his feet braced against the boards. Jill took in the sight of them, and, in her mind, she heard the voice of authority resonate again.

  He had commanded her to choose.

  She felt the leather pouch within her bosom. She remembered the feel of that bag in her fingers, when it was full…heavy and bulging. And she recalled the looks on the men’s faces as they beheld the fruits of Cecco’s schemes. She had vowed not to leave her husband’s side. The thought of all those diamonds determined her. Wishing for her sword, Jill gripped her knife, and plunged into the mêlée.

  Whatever else happened today, she wouldn’t be a widow.

  “Johann! Captain!” As Jill reached Cecco, he managed a smile but didn’t take his gaze from his foe.

  “Jill, my lovely. Shall I kill him after all?”

  “No, Captain— the agreement.”

  “Run away from him, Jill.” Locked in the struggle, Hanover urged, “Take Liza. Get below!”