“You’re lucky to have survived. Rasher and his men are ruthless. And desperate by the look of it. Why else would a slave ship attack a passenger vessel?”
She turned eyes the color of spring grass toward him. “Captain Fredericks thought it might be a slave ship.”
“Aye. One of the worst.” He tied the ends of the bandage together. “The reason why we engaged them. Their treatment of the men, women, and children is the worst we’ve seen. They suffer horrendous conditions. Rasher loses more to disease and abuse than he brings to the trade market.”
“Human cargo. The very idea makes me ill.” She grimaced and tipped her arm to look at her bandage.
Quinn nodded his agreement. “I, as well. But this is one shipload we can return to their shores.”
Her eyes went wide. “Is that why you captured the Delmar? To save the slaves?” The tone in her voice sounded incredulous. Her attitude rankled.
“Yes, why else?” His jaw tightened.
Alice gave a tiny shrug. “You’re pirates.”
“Privateers,” he corrected.
“Still, the trading of slaves is very profitable. I assumed.”
Quinn finished tying off the dressing. “You assumed wrong. Some profits aren’t worth the cost. Buying and selling of these people is abhorrent. We pirate our usual marks. Our coffers stay full and keep news of our actions from reaching England. At the same time, we’re a serious threat to those who ply the African trade. They’re cocky. None dare challenge them. Except the Scarlet Night.
“We drape the ship in black until we’re close enough to strike. Usually, we intercept the ships close to the point of capture and return the negroes before half of them die in those hellish holds. The Delmar was farther out than we expected.”
“So you bring them back.”
Quinn returned the items he’d finished using. “Aye.”
“I may have misjudged you.” Alice laid a hand over her binding.
He tossed the soiled wash water out the nearest window. “It doesn’t matter how you judge me, Mistress Tupper.” He latched the window with a snap.
“I didn’t expect it would.” She shook her head before worrying her lower lip. “Still I’m grateful to you for tending my arm.”
Her innocent gesture of biting her lip threw him. It was the first sign of anything less than brazen assertion on her part. Perhaps she wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be. “I’m needed on deck. Clean up if you wish. I’ll see about finding you some suitable clothing and food. Then we can discuss your fate while you’re with us. The men will decide what we’re to do with you.”
“Do with me?”
“Aye. The crew will vote if you stay. And for how long. Or if you go and when. Were it left to me, you’d be leaving at the first opportunity. The sooner you are off my ship, the better for all concerned.”
* * * *
By the time Quinn returned to the deck, the wounded from the battle had been treated, and the remaining crewmembers of the Delmar had been gathered and lashed together around the main mast of the Scarlet Night. Climbing into the rigging, Quinn swung over the gap between the ships to drop onto the decks of the Delmar. His quartermaster, Thomas Bellamy, stood with boatswain, Clyde Jessup, and Henry Robbins, a swivel gunner.
Bellamy shook his head. “Been below, Capt’n. Ain’t ne’re seen the like of it. Stacked like cordwood. More than seventy dead or beyond hope of ever seeing another day.”
Jessup spat upon the deck. “Whole ship reeks of death.”
Quinn’s lip curled at the smell. He was right. The stench was almost overwhelming. “What of the survivors?”
Bellamy hitched his chin toward the bow of the ship. “Brought ’em up into the light of day and be giving them food and water.”
“How many?”
“’Bout twenty. Five be alive, but hangin’ by a prayer. Sick ’ave been moved.”
“Good.” Quinn rubbed his jaw. “Jessup, you and Robbins, take the rest of the captives and get across to the Night. Bellamy, you and I have business with Rasher’s crew.”
Back on the ruby decks of the Scarlet Night, Quinn approached the mangy remnants of the Delmar. “Gentlemen, good news, you’re free to go.” Bellamy started to object, but Quinn held up a hand. “Mister Bellamy, release these men, and see they return to their ship. Unharmed.”
“This be some sort of trick?” One of the men narrowed his eyes at Quinn.
“No, no trick.” He turned back to Bellamy. “See they have food. Water, as well. Two day’s worth should be enough. Give them time to see to the dead aboard.”
“Two days? We’re more ’an two weeks from the closest port.”
Several of Quinn’s men approached. “Sir, stripped the Delmar of every inch of sailcloth, like you ordered.”
“Good men, thank you.”
“Ye pinched our sails? Ye be maroonin’ us on a ship of bloated bodies. We all be dead ’fore we get te land.”
Bellamy shoved the man toward the traverse ladders. “You’re the smart one, I ken tell. Get movin.’”
“Wait.” Quinn stopped the last man. “The women from the Olivia Grace. Where are they?”
A sneer crossed the man’s filthy face. “Capt’n took his pick. Crew got the rest. Weren’t nothin’ but shark bait ’fore they got ta me. Some be greedy pricks.”
Disgust burned in his gut. It took all Quinn’s control not to snap the man’s neck. “Get off my ship.”
After the transfers were made and the sails set, Quinn scanned the crowded deck.
“Ne’er agreed te take on slaves.” Jessup grumbled at Quinn’s elbow. “How we gonna fill twenty more bellies.”
“Shut that gaping hole ye call a mouth.” Bellamy ordered him away. “I hate agreeing with Jessup, Capt’n, but he has a point.”
“I’m aware of the situation.” Quinn propped his hands on his hips and looked into the blue of the sky. “We’re two weeks away from the African coast. Less if we keep at full sail. Until we reach port, nothing goes to waste. Lines in the water for fish. Ale and mead ‘til it’s gone. Ration the water for the sick. Catch the rain. If need be, there’s water in the ballast. Swap it out for sea water if we must, and hope the wind stays with us.”
“What about the woman?” Bellamy asked.
“Call all hands. The men have a decision to make.” Quinn took to the quarterdeck as the order shouted throughout the crowded deck. The verdict was out of his hands. Alice Tupper’s fate would now be put to the crew. Gavin paused as the last men assembled. Having lived his life at sea with clear and concise boundaries, he was suddenly wary of not having the control. All things aboard ship were put to the vote. What if the decision went against her? Would he fight his men if they chose to kill her or offer her up as a spoil of the battle?
“Men, you all earned your shares today defeating the Delmar. With victory comes duty to those few slaves we were able to rescue.” He outlined the plan regarding food and water as he had with Bellamy. “And there’s a vote to be had. We’ve a woman aboard. Given our articles, it poses a question.”
“No question,” shouted one man, “toss her over.”
“I’ll take care of her fer ye, Capt’n,” shouted another. Laughter and lewd jibs followed.
Quinn waited. “Some will recognize her name. She’s known to those who served aboard the Scarlet Night under Captain Jaxon Steele. Her name is Alice Tupper.”
The men all spoke at once. “Blimey, Alice Tupper?” “Looked familiar, she did.” “Wild chit what saved Capt’n Steele’s neck?” “One in the same.” “Swings a cutlass like no woman I e’er seen.” “See the shiner she give Cole?” “Killed a duke. What was the bastard’s name? One did in Cookie Burrows, remember?”
Appreciative murmurs ran through the crowd. Several regaled them with the tale of her daring in Port Royal. Others told what they’d witnessed on the Delmar. The fierceness with which she fought. Still, while those men sang her praises, ther
e were a few who argued the curse of women aboard ship. Was this woman the exception? Sure as hell didn’t fight like any woman they’d seen.
Debating continued until Quinn called for the vote. Majority ruled. Alice Tupper was free to stay. A cheer rose. Above the noise, Quinn added, “Any man lays a finger on her will answer to me.”
Talk of Mistress Tupper continued even after the crew had been dismissed back to their duties. Quinn could pick out those men who had served on the Scarlet Night for many years. Jaxon Steele had been a popular captain among them.
The day Jaxon tracked him down at that tavern in Port Royal and turned over the ship seemed like a scene from a play. Quinn served for years under Captain Steele, but he’d left large boots to fill. The responsibility wasn’t something Quinn took to lightly.
Some had grumbled about the shift of power, but the majority agreed. The crew voted Gavin Quinn as their new captain. Most who objected still had the sense to pledge their loyalty, but as a show of respect, Quinn gave each man the opportunity to re-sign their agreement to the ship’s Articles.
A handful left the crew. Given the abundance of ships in Port Royal, it was easy for them to gain new positions on another. Replacements were not hard to find. The Scarlet Night had a fierce reputation. They were a force of strength in the Caribbean, and men were eager to join her.
Crewmen like White, Jessup, Summer, and Finch. Robbins, of course, and Bellamy had been aboard for years. They were old hands at how to get every ounce of power and speed out of the ship. When it came to battle, they fought like the very devil. Gavin was pleased they stayed.
Still, they respected Jaxon Steele and his years as captain. Alice Tupper made a name for herself with these men, and they’d never forget what she did.
Quinn moved through the crew. He could also spot those who cared little if Alice was a saint or a slut. She was a woman, and women weren’t allowed aboard under any circumstance. He’d keep a close watch on those. Jessup in particular.
The man hadn’t stopped grumbling since the vote. He marched up deck holding Bump by the scuff of his neck. “Now we git te deal with a woman? It ain’t enough to put up with this useless pile of bones?” Jessup pushed the sniffling boy toward Robbins.
“Give ’im a chance. He can’t be helpin’ it.” Robbins checked a reddened lump on the boy’s forehead.
“End up dead, he will.”
Quinn crouched next to the young orphan lad he’d pulled from the gutters of Port Royal. “What’s happened here?”
“Good ole Bump,” Jessup spat. “Came close te havin’ his skull cracked in two. Again. Block got te swingin.’ Dinna hear the shouts. Why we got a deaf cabin boy aboard, I’ll ne’re know.”
“He’s a good lad. Works ’imself to draggin’, Capt’n.” Robbins wiped the grim off the boys face. “Needs time te adjust, is all.”
Quinn tipped the small pinched face to check the growing knot on the side of his head. “Keep an extra eye on him. Have a man be his ears when the boy’s topside. Teach him to keep a sharper eye. Be a shame if we saved him from Port Royal, only to kill him at sea.”
“I’ll see te him, Capt’n,” volunteered Robbins.
“Good man. Mind your duties first. Bringing Bump aboard was my decision alone, but another pair of watchful eyes may just save the lad.”
Quinn remembered the day Bump had crossed his path. He had tripped over the lad in the muck of the street. He was filthy, half starved. A woman older than any being he had ever seen had struggled to pick up the child. Quinn gave her assistance and learned about her dear William. How they’d both come to live in a pirate’s den and because William was deaf he was often the victim of brutal treatment. A “fever when he be only a babe stole his ears.” Barely able to stand on her own, she pleaded with Quinn to help. He decided then and there to take the lad aboard and find him some place among the crew.
He pled momentary insanity when Bellamy questioned him. Through the lad’s seasickness and finding some way to communicate with him, Quinn repeatedly asked himself “why?” but he knew the answer.
“Robbins, one more favor if you could.”
Robbins rose, and ruffled the thick, unruly hair on Bump’s head. “Sir?”
“Mistress Tupper is in need of some clothing. You’re a slim lad. Might you have a spare set of britches?”
Robbins shook his head and muttered, “Aye, Capt’n.” He rolled his eyes at Bump. “Another damn woman in me pants and nothin’ to show fer it. Ain’t fair I tell ya.”
Chapter 4
When Quinn entered his quarters, he found their famous guest curled up upon his bed fast asleep. She wore his shirt, which tucked beneath her and pulled tight to her body. A length of smooth, pale thigh stretched out beneath. He fingered the breeches in his hands and could picture her legs and the curve of her bottom clad in the snug buff fabric.
It had been a long time since he had a beautiful woman in his bed. And Alice was beautiful. The realization threw him off guard. She’d scrubbed her face and let down her hair. Chestnut waves caressed her pale cheek and caught the lantern light.
The ties at the neck of the shirt hung loose, exposing a tempting shadow between her breasts. He closed his eyes to the sight, willing his body to squelch the sudden flare of heat that pooled in his crotch.
His disobedient mind envisioned another fine-milled, garment from long ago, with its row of tiny white shell buttons. Each slipping in turn from their assigned loop from neckline to waist. Parting the fabric, he slipped a hand beneath to stroke the impossible softness of her breast. Was there anything to compare with the silk of a woman’s skin? Warm, round. He could still smell the rosewater she used.
Pushing aside the fragile fabric, he kissed his way down to take her tightened nipple into his mouth. Circling the firm tip with his tongue, he swept her nightshift off her shoulders and cupped the opposite breast. She trembled at his touch. Moaning when he began to suckle. Pushing her hand into his hair to hold him to her, she begged him not to stop and covered his kneading hand with her own, urging him on. Arching into her pleasure, she sighed his name. He could almost hear her. “Gavin…”
Hands curled into fists. Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades. The pain in his chest competed with the surging ache in his cock. When he opened his eyes, Alice Tupper lay in his bed staring at him. Her bright green gaze held his.
Turning his back to her, he grasped at the shreds of his control. Black anger dimmed the edges of his vision. He pulled a great breath into his lungs. His jaw ticked. It wasn’t her fault her eyes weren’t blue.
* * * *
Alice woke to Quinn watching her with a queer look about his face. She knew that look. Having seen it on more than one occasion, it was usually followed by her fighting for her honor with some man intent on rutting between her thighs. But then another look flitted across his face before he turned away from her.
“Captain Quinn?”
“Put these on.” He tossed her a pair of tanned breeches and kept his back turned. When he glanced back she had started to roll the ridiculous sleeves of his shirt past her wrists. The tails hung to her knees. “They will serve for now. You’re still in need of proper clothing. I have a man working to gather things to fit you.”
She nodded. “I’m grateful.”
He hadn’t looked at her. Alice couldn’t read him at all.
“The Delmar is away.” He stated most matter of fact. “We left the remainder of the crew to their dead.”
Alice hesitated. Worry made her ask, but she was afraid she didn’t want to know the answer. “What of the other women?”
“They were lost.” His answer was clipped. The sudden lump in her throat silenced her response. He gave her a sharp look. “Add some seventy slaves and crewmembers, I’d say you are lucky to be standing here. Even if it is in borrowed pants.”
The faces of those poor women swam before her vision. Milly. Her sickly companion. So many dead.
“
It’s been voted. You’re to stay aboard the Scarlet Night until we can deliver you to Virginia. Many of my crew have heard the story from Port Royal. They’re pleased to have you aboard. Some will tolerate your presence, but there are a few whom you should be wary of. You’ll earn your keep tending the sick, as well as any other duty I deem suitable. Tonight you bunk here. Come tomorrow we’ll have another spot for you to bed down.”
He planted his hands on his hips. “We’ve brought aboard those slaves left alive, some are fighting to stay that way. The ship is crowded; space is limited. You’ll be given whatever considerations we can, but I warn ye not to expect grand accommodations. Neither I, nor any member of my crew will be your personal traveling companion. You’ll do your chores, stay out of the way, and make no trouble. Do you understand?”
Alice’s head was spinning. Her emotions ran from despair to relief to indignation with each passing second. She’d always known a life of servitude, but being ordered about like this rankled her. What did he think she was going to do? Become some demanding shrew? Cling to him like a pampered, sniveling mollycoddled twit. Was he afraid she’d open a brothel and start charging by the hour?
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She tapped her forehead.
He narrowed his eyes. “While you are not now, nor will ever be a member of my crew, you will show me the respect due the captain of this ship.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. “Evidently such respect only extends to you.”
Quinn shot her a warning glance as he began gathering up his logbooks and several personal items. He made a point of taking his closed razor and pointing it at her. “You’d do well to sheathe that tongue, as well. When you’re among the men, you’ll keep your head down and your mouth shut.” Quinn donned his coat before planting his hat upon his head.
Alice notched her chin. “Do I have no say at all?”
Within a Captain's Treasure Page 3
