She didn’t answer for a moment, then, “Porto Belo and Panama were all I knew, and I wanted to know more. My fiancé did—he sailed the world trading goods for my father—I hoped to join him on his voyages once we were married, but I knew he wouldn’t allow it. He was too traditional, too protective. I would have had a life alone, waiting for him to return, not knowing when or even if he would come back.” Now she turned, looked at me, then approached and sat down.
“I wanted adventure,” she smiled, “but got a little more than I bargained for.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Leo was overdue from a voyage to Spain, and I was keeping an eye out for his sail. We were to be married once he’d arrived home, and I was both looking forward to seeing him and dreading it. At first, I thought the sail was his, but realized it wasn’t when it was joined by a second. I didn’t give them another thought until the first cannonball was fired—they were pirates!”
I drew my breath in sharply, even though I already knew who it had been. I was surprised she was opening up to me and wanted to encourage her. I guessed she was as lonely as I was.
“The ships in the harbor sank as they were holed, then the buildings started to fall.”
“Did you have no defenses?” I asked, genuinely horrified as I pictured the scene.
“Not then—the treasure fleet calls at Porto Belo twice a year to load up silver from the mines inland and take it to Spain. Before their arrival, and during their stay, the town is heavily fortified, but once they’ve sailed, there’s nothing left to guard. The men either return inland or sail with the fleet, and the town’s reduced to an ordinary merchant town again. The forts are barely manned.”
I nodded, trying to imagine it: one day busy, rich and important; the next abandoned, ignored and under fire.
“Once the buildings had been destroyed, the pirates came ashore to loot and take whatever they could find. Hornigold found me.” She stared at me, but showed no expression.
“Hornigold?” I was surprised. “I thought Sharpe . . .”
She shook her head. “Sharpe was horrified. He’s a good man, you know.” She looked at me again, eyebrows raised. I offered her a small smile. Admittedly, I thought him the best of a bad lot, but he was still a pirate—I couldn’t go as far as agreeing that he was a good man.
“He’s Captain Tarr’s nephew,” Magdalena continued. “And Hornigold is terrified of Tarr. Sharpe makes the most of it. He ‘confiscated’ me.” She laughed. “Hornigold was furious! But he gave me up.”
“Had he— Did he . . .” I didn’t know how to ask and stopped. She shook her head.
“He didn’t hurt me—Sharpe didn’t give him the chance, thank the Lord.” She looked up, crossed herself, and muttered a short prayer.
“So now you’re with Sharpe.” I said, surprised at the tone of my voice. I couldn’t decide whether it was disapproval or anger.
Magdalena stared at me, cool now. “Yes, now I am with Sharpe.”
“Do you miss your fiancé?”
She gave no answer, but her face showed so much pain that she had no need to.
“That’s why Hornigold is in such a bad mood,” I finally said, embarrassed by the lull in the conversation.
“Yes, he’s jealous.”
I raised my eyes and looked at her. We sat staring at each other a moment, then she continued, “That’s why we came to Sayba. We were hoping to rendezvous with Captain Tarr. His ship is bigger, and Henry wants to get me away from Hornigold—he does not trust him.”
Henry. I’d forgotten his first name. I nodded at her.
“But now we have to endure another passage with Hornigold and his sycophantic crony, Cheval.”
I smiled at her description.
“At least you seem to be comfortable,” I said, nodding at the cabin next door.
“Oh, yes.” She smirked. “We’re definitely comfortable.” She relaxed her smile. “And it’s certainly an adventure.”
Chapter 26
Magdalena had left some time ago, and I was almost ready for bed. I sat while Klara brushed my hair, and thought about the woman I’d spent the evening with. I liked her, I thought, though I felt sorry for her family left behind in Porto Belo. They sounded wonderful. How could she have left them like that to go in search of adventure? I knew she hadn’t left entirely by choice, but it was clear that she’d hoped to join the pirates, and had stayed rather than run from them. And what of her fiancé, Leo? What became of him?
I sighed and stood, then crossed to the bed. Whatever her motivations, I was sure she regretted them now. She hadn’t bargained on Hornigold; and whilst she seemed happy enough with Sharpe, there had definitely been a wistful note to her voice when she spoke of her childhood sweetheart.
I got under the cover, whispered goodnight to Klara—she would spend the night on a mat on the floor with little Jan—and tried to sleep. I had no idea if Erik would join me, or whether he also had one of the small temporary cabins that had been erected on the gundeck. I prayed I had seen the last of him for the night.
*
I woke to a cold draught—the bed clothes had been thrown off. Moonlight bathed the cabin and I could see Erik standing over me, swaying with the motion of the ship and removing his clothes. I hoped it was a dream, but knew it was not. My heart sank.
Naked, he climbed in next to me—there wasn’t much room, and I was pressed up between him and the cabin wall. Tears started to fall.
He lifted his thumb and wiped my cheek, smiling. I looked at him in surprise at his tenderness, then realized he was enjoying my tears, my fear. I resolved not to give him any more. His hand dropped from my face and pushed my nightshift up. I didn’t protest, nor help. He did not care.
He straddled me and I bit my lip to hold in my gasp of pain at his entry. I looked up at him in the moonlight, keeping my face calm and my eyes dry. He looked away. I closed my eyes for a moment at my small triumph, but realized his thrusts had grown more urgent. Then I understood what he was looking at, and opened my eyes again to make sure. Yes, he was staring at Klara, while he was . . . while he was . . . on top of me. I looked at his face, but couldn’t read his expression. I didn’t recognize it, I’d never seen it on his face.
Then I realized I had seen it before—on Hornigold’s face when he’d asked for Klara on my passage to Sayba. And on Cheval’s face, too. It was desire. I looked at her, huddled on the floor, her back to us, arms around her son to protect him, and felt the tears threaten again.
I turned my face to the wall and stared, refusing to give life to my tears. I felt utterly humiliated. I didn’t want to be here, aboard this ship, married to this man, here in this bed.
My mind drifted, and I imagined my little beach, the sand warm, the waves gentle. I imagined walking to the water’s edge and sitting on the wet sand, my toes digging into it.
A wave cooled my feet, then pulled at them and the sand around them. I dug my toes in again; again the sand was washed away. It wasn’t enough. Suddenly I wanted to be in the water, have it wash me away, rather than the sand. I removed my clothing—it took only an instant—and waded into the sea.
The waves were larger now, crashing into me, jolting my body, over and over and over, one after the other. But I kept going; I would not go back. The rhythmic motion soothed me and I lay in the water, letting it caress and comfort me. I felt bruised and battered, but it didn’t matter, the water took the pain away. The sea eased my distress and rocked me as a mother would a babe.
The waves calmed, but still I floated, drifting, drifting, knowing I could return whenever I wanted.
Chapter 27
I stared around me. Nothing. No land; just sea. I closed my eyes, smiled and lifted my face to the sun. But for the noises of the ship and its men, I could be completely alone. I opened my eyes and turned away from the aft rail and the emptiness, back to the ship.
About half the crew were on deck, working the sails or doing other sailor things, and I watched the men up t
he masts in amazement—they moved so fast, yet so surely they should have been born squirrels.
My eyes searched for my husband—it had become my habit to know his whereabouts so that I could avoid him. There he was, near the mainmast with Sharpe, his father close by at the rail.
I saw a small shape running along deck and grinned—Jan. He never walked when he could run; he was always so full of life and excitement, and was worse aboard ship—he loved it, even following the crew up the knotted ladders of rope that led up the masts. I don’t think Klara knew about that though.
A coughing fit hit him mid-stride and he stumbled, crashing into Jan Senior and knocking him back against the rail of the ship. I cried out, my hands to my mouth, shocked. This was just the excuse Jan had been looking for to rid himself of his namesake.
He shouted and grabbed the child, hauling him back to his feet and toward the rail, still shouting—I couldn’t tell whether in English or Dutch—but his intention was obvious: he was going to throw Jan overboard.
Jan’s screams froze me to the wooden planking, but they made Erik move. He joined the pair, shouting himself, and grabbed hold of the boy, preventing his father from lifting him any further.
Jan Senior let go and the child fell, then scurried to the mainhatch, his face awash with tears. He jumped below decks and was gone, presumably to find his mother.
Erik and his father were still arguing at the rail, and it looked to be as bad as any argument I’d witnessed so far. Jan prodded his son’s chest once, twice, three times, and Erik swatted his hand away. Jan’s voice rose even further, his face bright red. Erik’s temper rose to match, and he prodded his father in return. Jan didn’t hesitate, and swung his fist. Erik took a couple of steps back, but this time he was not going to submit. He had witnesses, and witnesses who were much more important to him than Klara and myself.
He stepped forward and threw his own fist, snapping Jan’s head back. Jan tried to step back to regain his balance, but had nowhere to go—he was already against the rail.
His body angled further back until his feet lifted and he tipped over. I hardly heard the splash. I stood rooted to the spot in shock.
*
I jumped at a hand on my arm: Sharpe. I hadn’t noticed him join me at the stern; all my attention had been on the van Eckens. I looked him in the eye and he slowly shook his head. I knew he’d seen what I had seen: as Jan fell, he had held his arms out to his son, who had made no move to catch him.
I looked back at Erik, now leaning over the rail shouting, “Vader, Vader!” and shivered. He had just killed his own father.
“Man overboard!” Sharpe shouted beside me. “Heave-to! Man overboard!”
The ship turned, and the sails shook, then roared. Men pulled one of the towed boats alongside and set off to look for Jan.
*
An hour later, they returned. Nothing.
“The weight of his frockcoat will have pulled him under,” Sharpe said to me. “He wouldn’t have had a chance—he’s gone.”
I nodded, but said nothing, just stared at my husband who was still playing the part of distraught son. Nobody had approached him—even Hornigold watched from a safe distance. Do they all know it had been no accident?
I made my way to the mainhatch, wanting to get away from the maindeck and the sight of my husband. I dreaded him seeing me and demanding I play the part of the mourning daughter-in-law. I had to find Klara first, and tell her that she and her son were safe.
Chapter 28
I stared into the mirror and smiled at Klara as she dressed my hair. I had never seen her so relaxed; her eyes sparkled and an easy smile sat on her face. I remembered how surly she’d been when we first met—it was good to see such a change in her.
We’d arrived back at Brisingamen yesterday and I’d barely seen Erik. He’d spent the rest of the journey to Sint Eustatius locked in his father’s small cabin—all I’d heard of him was the occasional call for more rum.
When we anchored in Oranjestad Bay he appeared: eyes dull, skin pale, but clean and shaven; and went ashore to greet his uncle. I’d been left aboard the ship. Apparently he’d told his uncle of his brother’s death, claimed we didn’t have the proper mourning attire, and I would remain secluded until we could put back out to sea.
The sugar was unloaded, Erik finalized the details of the sale, and Freyja loaded up with fresh food and water. We set sail again in less than a week. I hadn’t been allowed out of the cabin, but was not upset to have avoided meeting more van Eckens.
The return journey had been uneventful—Erik had remained in his father’s cabin and I’d spent the majority of the passage with Magdalena and occasionally Sharpe. I’d enjoyed their company, despite the difference in ages.
After our arrival home the day before, Erik had sequestered himself in the study and I’d eaten alone. I was enjoying the new routine, but tonight the usual Freyjamen were dining with us and we would have Erik’s company. I hoped Sharpe would bring Magdalena.
*
I was surprised when Erik took Jan’s seat at the head of the table, although was not sure why—he was the head of the household now, after all. It just seemed disrespectful—too soon.
I was directed to Erik’s old seat at the foot of the table and was pleased. I may have to sit facing him, but he was a long way away and I would not have to talk to him.
Hornigold and Cheval sat to my left, Sharpe and Magdalena to my right. I focused my attention on them.
The starter course passed without incident—soup flavored with pumpkin and peppers. Then Hendrik brought in the main—spiced and roasted boar—and the level of noise in the room rose from a respectful and mournful quiet to excited anticipation. Klara poured more drinks and I sipped my wine, feeling suddenly anxious.
Cheval leaned closer to me as the meat was carved. “I know it’s a terrible time, but you look very good in black, Madame, you should wear it more often.” I blinked and stared at him in surprise, then glanced at Erik. He looked angry.
“Thank you, Cheval,” I said and took another sip of wine, then glanced at Sharpe on my other side and widened my eyes in disbelief. He smirked and Cheval thumped his glass down hard enough to break the stem.
“Ah, pardon, pardon!” he exclaimed with a nervous look at Erik. He waved the apology away with a grimace and Klara cleared up the mess, then brought and filled another glass. The table lapsed into uncomfortable silence and it was a relief when everyone had been served and we could eat.
I glanced at Sharpe again and grimaced. He smiled back.
“So, Hornigold, now my father has gone we have a little more freedom.”
I looked at him in shock.
“You are aware he and I did not always see eye to eye, especially where your role in our business was concerned. You will find I am more . . . accommodating to your ideas.”
The table silenced.
“Erik, please, we’re still in mourning,” I protested without thinking. I jumped when he immediately slammed his fist onto the table top.
“I was not talking to you, wife! Be good enough to keep your silence until I do.”
I glanced at Magdalena and Sharpe in embarrassment, but their eyes stayed on their plates.
“Look at me when I’m talking!” He thumped the table again and I looked at him.
“There will be many changes around here now that I’m master of Brisingamen and governor of Sayba.” He glared around the table, and it was clear that he really meant now that he was master of us. My embarrassment turned to fear.
“Hornigold, you will stay here until Captain Tarr arrives, then the three of us will discuss my plans.” Hornigold nodded once. “Until then, I wish to reward you for your concern and actions when Vader died. I was pleased with how quickly you reacted to put a boat off to look for him, and how efficient you were at Sint Eustatius.”
He glanced around the room and his eyes rested on Klara. She froze.
“Take my wife’s slave for the night; she will reward y
ou for me.” He laughed.
“Erik, no!” I shouted, horror-stricken.
He stood and thumped the table again. I shrank back in my chair.
“Yes! She is mine to do with as I will—as are you. You will never disagree with me in public again!” Another thump. “Do you understand?”
I glared at him. His threat was obvious.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, his voice low. Sharpe touched my wrist in warning and I nodded.
“Get your hand off my wife, Sharpe. I’ve been watching you and you’re far too friendly. Keep your distance—you already have one whore, let that be enough for you!”
I gasped, and Sharpe stared at Erik, withdrew his hand and nodded. Magdalena’s face reflected pure fury, but she wisely kept her silence.
“Klara, you will entertain Captain Hornigold tonight. Take the blue room and do not disappoint him—I do not want to hear any complaints tomorrow.”
I risked a glance at her—tears ran down her face. I looked back at Erik; he was smiling. He raised his glass as if for a toast, but said nothing. He looked at each of us in turn, then drank.
Chapter 29
I dressed for bed alone, Klara was already with Hornigold and I shuddered. Why is Erik doing this to her? I’d always thought he felt tenderly toward her; it was Jan who had hated her. Is he trying to make it up to his father? Some kind of twisted apology for letting him die?
I shuddered again and climbed under the bed sheet. I glanced at the door in trepidation. I hardly dared hope he would leave me alone, but prayed for it anyway.
Tonight, the prayers didn’t work—his step was loud on the stairs to my room. He stumbled through the door and I watched his progress in the gloom. He was drunk—he’d thrown glass after glass of wine down his throat after pronouncing Klara’s sentence, then called for brandy.
He used the pisspot, threw his clothing to the floor and muddled his way through the thin tester curtains. He grinned at me, enjoying my fear.
The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet - (Books 1-3) Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure Page 19
