Blacksouls

by Nicole Castroman

  This was news to Anne. She’d believed Alastair was a simple tavern owner, but it appeared he was a merchant as well, and a successful one at that.

  “It’s only a matter of time before the Royal African Company loses its control on the slave trade. We need to be prepared to act when that happens. The rest of our shareholders will meet in Jamaica within eight weeks. Before then, I suggest you change your position.” The cold detachment in Pelham’s voice caused a shiver to run down Anne’s spine.

  “It’s a wasted trip, for I have no intention of changing my mind,” Alastair snapped.

  “We’ll see. I believe some of them might be quite convincing in their arguments.”

  There was no denying the implicit threat in his statement. Without another word, the two men left the tavern. Alastair muttered an oath and stalked from the room toward the kitchen, leaving Anne and Benjamin standing there. Anne couldn’t help wondering about the meeting in Jamaica and whether or not she and Benjamin were safe.

  CHAPTER 9

  Teach

  The water was so clear beneath the hull of the Deliverance as it limped into the port of Nassau, Teach could see the ripples in the sand twenty feet below. Occasionally a large ray glided under the bow, a fleeting shadow in the shallows of the bay. Anxious to be on land, Teach could not help wondering how he would continue his search for Anne.

  The Bahamas was a major shipping thoroughfare that had recently become popular, attracting pirates and buccaneers. The draw of the turquoise waters and long sandbars were an ideal setting to attack unwary ships. Or even wary ones, as Teach had discovered the hard way. Hundreds of secluded cays and islets allowed marauding ships to lie in wait to pounce on unwilling prey sailing by.

  It had been seven days since they’d encountered and fought with those ships, but their ordeal wasn’t over just yet. As soon as they dropped anchor, Teach and the rest of the crew began the arduous task of getting the injured to shore first. The Deliverance was too large and there were too many ships already dotting the busy water for it to get any closer to the docks themselves.

  The city’s new fort, in the shape of a four-pointed star, stood sentinel on a hill, with two of its walls projecting northward over the seafront. Figures hurried along the wharves to load and unload the myriad of anchored merchant ships. Was one of the vessels the Providence?

  With his mind racing, Teach nodded at John. “I’m going to search for Peter myself. If you see him, make sure he doesn’t leave the ship.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Teach swept the quarterdeck as the anchor dropped, looking for any sign of the familiar blond head, but to no avail. Teach pictured Peter hiding in the bowels of the ship like the rat he was. Deciding to head down to check the cargo hold, Teach descended the last flight of stairs when he heard shouting and the distinct sound of a splash. Someone had released one of the rafts and jumped in after it.

  Peter.

  Rushing back to the top deck, Teach drew his pistol as he spied two figures clambering over the side of the small boat. The bounder had somehow managed to get someone to help him, which meant that not all of the crew was loyal.

  Teach tensed against the shaking of his muscles, his finger squeezing the trigger of his revolver as he took aim between Peter’s shoulder blades.

  It would be so easy to stop the coward from leaving. Peter had carried out every whipping Murrell had ordered on board the Deliverance, and he’d enjoyed it.

  This was Teach’s chance to carry out his own punishment. He would be Peter’s executioner. . . .

  “He’s not worth it,” John said quietly at his side.

  With a humorless laugh, Teach kept the weapon trained on Peter’s back. Peter shouted at the other man to gain control of the oars. “At the moment, I would have to disagree.”

  Teach should have gone down to the gun deck. If he’d fired from one of the cannon ports, nobody would have been able to tell where the shot came from.

  At John’s prolonged silence, Teach glanced over at his friend, noting the disapproval in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” Teach muttered.

  “Like what?”

  “Like my father.”

  With a heavy sigh, Teach slowly lowered the weapon. John reached forward and dragged the pistol out of Teach’s grasp. “You’re better than this, Teach. You can’t shoot a man from behind.”

  “Then bring him here and I’ll shoot him in the face,” Teach said, his voice iced with quiet menace.

  The two men now had control of the raft and rowed away from the Deliverance. Peter glanced over his shoulder, a triumphant smile on his lips. Teach jerked his thumb in Peter’s direction. “After everything he’s done, he doesn’t deserve to get away like this. He might not be shooting us from behind, but we’ll all surely hang if he gets away.”

  “They’re only two men. The rest of us are loyal to you, Teach.”

  Teach gave him a stony stare. “I wonder if you’ll feel the same when the noose is around your throat.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Murrell wasn’t right in the head. All of us could see that.”

  “I hope the courts will agree with you.” Not waiting for John to respond, Teach gave a short shout, instructing his men to lower a boat over the side. It was time to get the wounded on shore. Lashing several planks of wood together, Teach and his men began the laborious task of lowering the injured men to the small vessels below. John stood on the Jacob’s ladder swung over the side to help with their descent.

  Since Peter had taken one of the rafts, the rest of the men had only two to transport the entire crew and passengers to shore. Teach’s back was covered in sweat, and his face and head burned as he worked for the next hour under the scorching sun.

  The last injured sailor only had a broken arm. He climbed onto the Jacob’s ladder, gritting his teeth and descending slowly. Halfway down, the sailor lost his footing on the spreaders and fell into the clear water below. Teach dove in, his eyes stinging from the saltwater. He located the boy and pulled him to the surface, where John hoisted him into the skiff. Teach clung to the side of the boat, grateful to be in the cooling sea, if only for a short while.

  A large crowd gathered and watched as more weary crew members reached the docks.

  “There are soldiers,” John muttered beneath his breath, staying the oars. “Want me to talk to them while you go and get the rest off the ship?”

  “No. I’ll deal with them.” Drawing a deep breath, Teach climbed the wooden ladder that led out from the choppy waves, only to stop when a hand reached out to assist him near the top. One of the soldiers, presumably their leader, gave Teach an assessing look.

  “Are you the captain of that ship?”

  “Aye,” Teach said, standing to his full height, and running a hand through his hair. Droplets rained down around him and his clothes dripped onto the bleached boards beneath his feet.

  “You’ve been charged with mutiny. You and your men will come with me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Anne

  Anne took aim, squinting against the brightness of the sun. The roof of the abandoned warehouse they were in was missing parts, but the wooden slats in the walls were surprisingly intact. The noise from the busy waterfront in the distance camouflaged the report of the pistol. Coyle had chosen this spot because they could practice here without fear of interference or detection.

  For the past couple of days, while Alastair and Benjamin oversaw repairs to the Fox, Coyle had been showing Anne how to fire a pistol.

  Fifteen coconuts lined one wall of the warehouse. Anne squeezed the trigger and the pistol jumped in her hand. One of the coconuts exploded, its shredded husk flying into the sky. Coyle hollered, a proud smile on his face.

  Sweat dripped down Anne’s brow. With shaking fingers, she poured a small amount of powder into the breech before placing a ball on top of the opening and screwing the barrel of the pistol firmly back into place.

  Within seconds, she fired off another shot an
d another coconut exploded.

  “Anne, you’ve got it!” Coyle cried. She laughed at his exuberance. No matter what she did, he always encouraged her.

  “Only if I’m on firm ground and nobody is shooting at me,” she said, holstering her weapon behind the pistolman’s pouch. She didn’t tell Coyle she’d been aiming for an entirely different coconut.

  “It’s your turn, Cara,” Coyle called out.

  Cara shook her head. “You can’t make me.”

  “You haven’t shot once this week, Cara. As much as you enjoy sewing, you can’t protect yourself with a needle and thread.”

  “Just because Uncle Alastair is forcing me to come with you, doesn’t mean I have to do as he says.”

  “If you don’t shoot today, I’ll tell him that you refuse to take him seriously,” Coyle said. “He might think twice about giving you any money.”

  Scowling at her brother, Cara marched over to him, and he handed her his pistol. With lightning speed, Cara loaded the weapon and fired off a shot. Another coconut exploded and Anne had a feeling that it was precisely the one Cara had aimed at.

  Anne stared at her friend with newfound wonder. Looking at Cara, in her simple dress and with her blond hair hanging in a braid down her back, no one would ever guess she could handle a gun like that. Anne certainly hadn’t.

  “Just because I don’t want to carry it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use it,” Cara said as she handed the pistol back to Coyle. “Don’t you dare say another word about firing that thing, or I swear I’ll use it on you.”

  Coyle holstered the pistol with a satisfied look, clearly unaffected by his sister’s threat.

  “No you won’t. Because you love me. And you know I’m only doing this because I love you as well. I want you to be safe.”

  Cara rolled her eyes at her brother but didn’t argue further.

  After their shooting practices, the trio visited the waterfront each day to see if there was any sign of the Deliverance. Anne feared that the more time passed, the less likely it was that the great ship had survived the attack.

  Anne had become more comfortable with the pistol, something she never thought would happen. She hated to admit it, but Alastair had been right. It was strange to feel both at home and on edge at the same time. Here, she didn’t stand out like she had in England. In fact, nobody gave her a second glance. It was Cara and Coyle who attracted more attention with their blond hair and blue eyes.

  However, Anne never left the safety of The Laughing Fox unattended. Cara still refused to carry anything, but Coyle always carried two pistols and a dagger. Cara and Coyle were always by her side. The most loyal of friends, they accompanied Anne when they could have remained at the Fox and stayed out of the heat. None of them ventured out past dark.

  The weight of the pistol and leather pouch at Anne’s waist was a constant reminder of the hazards of the island, but it also served to comfort her. If she needed it, it was there for protection and would hopefully act as a deterrent.

  “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Anne asked as they left the warehouse.

  “From our da. He hates the English,” Coyle said matter-of-factly.

  Cara scoffed at her brother. “So do you.”

  “I’m English,” Anne said.

  “Trust me. Coyle doesn’t hate you.”

  Coyle blushed underneath his tan as he shot his sister a quelling glance. “You’re only part English, Anne. And you’re not like the English soldiers swarming the Irish countryside, taking our farms from us. Da didn’t want Cara ending up in one of their beds.”

  Cara stopped and Coyle ran into her. “I almost want to bring one home, just to see both of your reactions. They’re not all bad, you know.”

  “I won’t let you bring one home,” Coyle said, his voice hard.

  Cara turned to Anne with an annoyed look. “That’s why our father refused Uncle Alastair’s money. He says Alastair’s in league with the English and doesn’t want anything to do with his filthy coins. Da almost stopped us from taking the money, but Coyle here had a bit of a scuffle with one of the soldiers back home. It was better for him to leave. And so I came too.”

  Despite Alastair’s refusal to help Lord Pelham, it was clear the Irishman had some kind of business dealings with the English.

  It was hard for Anne to erase the threat of Pelham’s words. The African Trading Company held the monopoly on slavery in England. Several merchants fought to ban the control and open the practice up for everyone. Anne couldn’t imagine what that would look like. She didn’t want to.

  Although Lord Pelham hadn’t visited The Laughing Fox again, Alastair had warned her to stay out of his way if she ever ran into him. Not that she planned to.

  By now they’d reached the busy marketplace. Anne still marveled at all the sights and sounds. What William Dampier had described with such vivid detail in his book, Anne now saw with her own eyes. Sweet plantains with yellow peels, raw sugarcane, plump pineapples, and ripe papayas, Anne had tasted them all. Even the cacao nut, used to make chocolate, was sold amongst the stalls. The flamboyance of the island was in stark contrast to the more somber markets of Bristol.

  What she wouldn’t give to walk these streets with Teach.

  Turning a corner, Anne stopped short when she ran into a stout woman in a blue dress. The woman’s hair was a vibrant shade of red, matching the rouge on her cheeks. Anne reached out automatically to steady herself. “Oh, forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, dearie. But I’m afraid you’re too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  The woman nodded in the direction of the docks. “If you’re wanting a piece of that large ship, you best forget it. Soldiers are swarming the docks. Nobody can get near it.”

  “Large ship?” Anne leaned forward. “Do you know the name of it?”

  “I don’t know the name, but it’s bloody huge. Looks like it’s seen a wee bit of excitement too. I was hoping to provide some excitement myself, but I can’t wait around all day, you know. Those sailors will have to come to find me themselves.”

  Reaching into her pocket, Anne pulled out a few coins Alastair had given her.

  “Thank you,” Anne said, pressing them into the woman’s palm. Coyle and Cara had caught up to Anne and the woman. They gave Anne a curious look, and she returned their looks with a smile.

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Why’re you giving me these?”

  “Because your information about the ship has helped me greatly.” Before the woman could respond, Anne picked up her skirts and tore off, leaving Cara and Coyle to follow as best they could.

  Anne’s heart thumped painfully in her chest and sweat covered her back by the time she reached the crowded waterfront. It was just as the woman had said. Squinting against the brightness of the sun, Anne could make out a large regiment of men standing on the pier, all of them dressed in red long coats and carrying muskets. The crowd surrounding the soldiers was thick as well. It was hopeless to try to get any closer.

  Quickly scouring the area around her, Anne spied three barrels nearby, tethered to a wooden post. She scrambled to the top of one and held on to the rough pole as her eyes darted to the familiar ship in the distance. From this vantage point, she had a clear view of the damaged Deliverance and a grateful sob tore from her throat. They’d made it. The Deliverance had actually made it. There were fresh patches in the hull, evidence of some recent repairs. The sails, too, looked like they’d been pieced together and hastily sewn.

  “What do you see, Anne? Is it the Deliverance?”

  Looking down, Anne met Cara’s hopeful gaze. Anne beamed at her. “It is!”

  Coyle helped Cara climb up beside Anne and the two of them clutched each other for support.

  “Look at you. You’re shaking.” Cara gave Anne a squeeze. “Do you see Teach anywhere?”

  “Not yet.” She looked for the familiar black hair amongst the teeming crowd, but could not see him. Time seemed to stand sti
ll for her, now that she was this close. Six weeks of waiting and wondering if she would ever see Teach again. Anne nearly suffocated beneath the weight of her own anticipation. She didn’t want to think about the fact that he might not be on board.

  One of the soldiers called out an order and the mob parted, quieting down as they made room on the docks. Several men with scruffy beards and unkempt hair formed a line, surrounded by soldiers on each side. They marched single file toward a waiting cart. There! Anne’s insides tightened and her heart began to drum with furious force when she saw Teach take his position at the back of the line. His broad-shouldered build towered above the rest of the crew, and his clothes were wet and dripping.

  “Teach!” Her voice rang out across the horde and his head shot up. “Teach!” Anne yelled once again, not caring about the attention she drew to herself.

  His gaze locked on hers across the distance, his features pronounced and striking, even with the growth of facial hair. His skin was bronzed and the sun glanced off his rich black hair. He took a step in her direction. The soldier to his right slammed the butt of his musket into Teach’s stomach and Teach doubled over.

  “Oi!” Cara cried. “What’s that all about?”

  Another soldier stepped forward and clasped irons around Teach’s wrists and ankles. A pounding sounded in Anne’s ears, and her blood pulsated through her body. Desperate to get to his side, she scrambled down from the barrels and attempted to push her way through the crowd, but it was no use. There were too many people blocking their path, and everyone’s eyes were riveted on the drama unfolding before them.

  Grabbing Anne’s hand in his, Coyle managed to shove his way a few feet, but they didn’t make much progress.

  “Where are they taking them?” Anne asked, trying to peer over the shoulders of other onlookers.