The Pirate Ruse

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Privateer,” she mumbled in a whisper, shaking her head.

  “James!” Baskerville scolded in a quiet breath.

  Cristabel stood astonished at it all—in particular, her own blindness. Having been abducted and taken aboard the Chichester, attacked by pirates and Bully Booth, flung into the sea by Navarrone, intoxicated with rum—all of it was certainly reason enough that her mind might not have been as quick-witted as usual. Even so, she could not fathom how she had not thought of it before.

  When dispatched, Letters of Marque granted the bearer permission to attack the enemy of the country from whence it was issued. Enemy ships were often then gifted to the issuing country as fortification for the naval fleet. Some Letters of Marque required privateers to divide other booty captured with the issuing government or monarchy. Cristabel wondered whether Navarrone were in breach of his letter by not declaring the treasures the crew of the Merry Wench had found aboard the Chichester. Still, she wondered if the circumstances—there being traitors so close to the governor—allowed him pardon for not revealing the existence of the treasure.

  “May I inquire as to whom these men are who accompany you, Governor?”

  “Of course, Captain Navarrone,” Governor Claiborne answered.

  Navarrone’s question had drawn Cristabel’s attention away from her astonished realizations. Having momentarily forgotten she was in disguise, Cristabel glanced over her shoulder toward William and Richard Pelletier.

  “Straight ahead, James!” Baskerville scolded in a whisper. “Are you mad, boy? The cap’n will have your head for…”

  Baskerville’s words stopped cold as he glanced down to Cristabel the very instant she glanced up to him.

  “Oh, sweet Mary Murphy!” Baskerville exclaimed. Cristabel fancied his face grew pale as death as he stared at her. He frowned then, and she could see his jaw clenching with fury. “Keep your hat low…James,” he instructed, “and your gaze straight ahead.”

  “Aye,” Cristabel whispered. She was found out! What punishment would be inflicted on her and James? Would Navarrone truly put them under the cat?

  “This is William Pelletier,” Governor Claiborne then explained to Navarrone. Cristabel tugged at the brim of her hat, hoping to shade her eyes more thoroughly. “And his nephew Richard. They have a particular interest in the Chichester.”

  “And what might that be?” Navarrone asked.

  Cristabel listened with more intent than ever she had listened before.

  “Would you allow them to address you concerning the matter, Navarrone?” the governor inquired.

  “Are they to be trusted?” Navarrone queried.

  “Of course, my friend!” Governor Claiborne assured him. “I have known William Pelletier for years now. He is a true patriot and defender of the people.”

  “Then allow them to speak, of course.”

  Cristabel closed her eyes—gritted her teeth in resisting the temptation to look over her shoulder once more. Oh, how she wished to see William Pelletier writhing with rage over his lost treasure! Yet suddenly she realized how selfish she had been in accepting James Kelley’s place in the pirate away party. If she were found out, a battle might ensue. Navarrone and the other crewmen of the Merry Wench might be injured or killed!

  Cristabel opened her eyes once more and fought the panic quickly rising in her. What had she been thinking? Where had her good sense gone? Why had she agreed to such a ruse? Yet it was not James’s fault, for he was only a boy, and she should have been wiser.

  Nevertheless, it was too late to choose differently. The only course was to remain calm—unnoticed.

  “Navarrone…I am William Pelletier,” Cristabel heard William say. “This is my nephew Richard.”

  “And what is your matter concerning the Chichester?” Navarrone inquired.

  Cristabel held her breath, waiting for William’s response. Would his temper flare, revealing him as the traitor she knew him to be?

  “Governor Claiborne has told us that the Chichester carried only the expected stores and supplies in her hold,” William answered.

  Cristabel bit her lip to keep from smiling. He would reveal his treachery—there before the governor of Louisiana—she was certain of it! Boundless joy swelled in her bosom, for he would be hanged as a traitor, and her mother would be free of him.

  “Yes,” Navarrone deceived. “The expected measures for such a ship and crew.”

  “Yet tell me,” William began, “did you find any evidence of…” He paused, and Cristabel’s joy heightened.

  “Of what, sir?” Navarrone queried.

  “Of a woman, sir,” William finished.

  Cristabel’s heart leapt into her throat. Her anger was suddenly full aflame! He was not going to admit to owning knowledge of the treasure?

  “A woman, Mr. Pelletier?” Navarrone asked.

  “A young woman,” Richard interjected. “We are in search of a missing young woman of our acquaintance.”

  There was a pause. Cristabel knew Navarrone was as astonished as she was—or at least closely as astonished. Could it be that William Pelletier was not a man to sell women into slavery? Could it be he was not behind her abduction and the vast riches found aboard the Chichester? Could it be he was no traitor? Yet Cristabel knew he was vile and treasonous.

  “Hold,” Baskerville mumbled.

  Cristabel inhaled a deep breath, attempting to calm herself.

  “I have heard nothing of a missing young woman,” Navarrone said. “And why might a woman of your acquaintance be found aboard an enemy ship, sir?”

  Oh, but he was clever! Navarrone had posed the question before the governor; it was a thinly veiled accusation. Yet he could easily claim ignorance.

  “She is Cristabel Albay…Richard’s betrothed,” William answered. “It appears…loath as I am to utter it…Richard and I have recently discovered evidence that has led us to believe that Cristabel Albay may be a traitor.”

  “What?” Governor Claiborne exclaimed. Cristabel was thankful the governor had himself exclaimed, for the sound had masked her own exclamation of the same word.

  “Hold your temper, miss,” Baskerville growled.

  “It is true,” Richard said. “I found letters—correspondence between Cristabel and a childhood friend…a man…a British man. It seems they have kept their communications open these long years.”

  “We believe Cristabel conspired to meet this bloody Brit…to off with him to England,” William added.

  “In his correspondence, the enemy sailor mentions his duties as boatswain aboard the British Chichester,” Richard supplied.

  “Indeed,” Navarrone said—and Cristabel sensed a new panic rising in her. What if Navarrone believed Richard’s tale? What if he determined Richard to be the truth-teller and Cristabel the liar? Yet surely he was too wise, too smart, and too clever for it. She knew he was. Her confidence in Navarrone’s wit was unwavering. Still, she feared his confidence in her character was not so strong.

  “Did you find evidence of a woman aboard the ship?” the governor inquired.

  “In fact, we did, Governor,” Navarrone admitted.

  Cristabel was rendered breathless with disappointment, fear, and heartache. He had given her up! She would hang for treason—but in that moment she was most disturbed by the fact that Navarrone had given her up.

  “You did?” Richard asked, frantic.

  “Yes,” Navarrone confirmed. “I believe the woman you are seeking may have been this Cristabel Albay—though I do not think she was there of her own free will.”

  “What do you mean?” the governor asked.

  “When we boarded the Chichester,” Navarrone began, “she was already under heavy attack by the Screaming Witch.”

  “So these bloody Brit seadogs were telling the truth of it,” Governor Claiborne said.

  “Yes,” Navarrone confirmed. “Captain Bully Booth’s men had slaughtered many of the Chichester’s crew…though Booth himself, coward that he was, remained on
his own quarterdeck. I glanced up during the battle to see a young woman in his clutches.”

  “A dark-haired young woman?” Richard inquired.

  “Yes,” Navarrone said. “Bully Booth was killed, and the Screaming Witch set sail.”

  “And the girl? She was aboard when they set sail?” William asked.

  “She was aboard the Screaming Witch,” Navarrone replied.

  “Yet how can we be certain it was Cristabel Albay they took?” Richard queried.

  There was silence a moment, and then Navarrone answered. “After we had taken the Chichester, my men were seeing to the dead. I was summoned, for one of the wounded Brits had a tale to tell. He told me that a woman had been brought, against her will, to the Chichester in the dead of night days before. The crew was ordered not to speak to her.”

  “Taken against her will?” Governor Claiborne pressed.

  “Yes. The lad said she was brought aboard by men…French Acadians…Americans.”

  “Impossible!” the governor exclaimed.

  “So it is easier then to believe that a young woman would herself make the arrangements to meet an enemy ship when we are at war?” Navarrone offered.

  “That is all the proof you have of her?” Richard asked. “The testimony of a dying Brit?”

  “That, and the severed finger we found on the Chichester’s deck,” Navarrone said.

  “Severed finger?” Governor Claiborne mumbled.

  “Yes,” Navarrone said. “I hope you are not angry, but I kept it as a souvenir…being that I was gifting you the ship, Governor.”

  There was silence. Cristabel remembered then that Navarrone had taken the ring Richard had gifted her as an engagement endowment.

  “We found the finger in the British captain’s cabin,” Navarrone said. “There were three others with it…a woman’s fingers.”

  “The bloody Brits cut off her fingers?” the governor asked with disgust.

  “Or Bully Booth himself,” Navarrone suggested. “Though…Booth would never have left such a trinket as this behind him.”

  “Indeed, it is my ring,” Richard said. “The one I purchased and gifted Cristabel.”

  “I think perhaps you know then, sir…the whereabouts of your missing young woman,” Navarrone said.

  “She is aboard the Screaming Witch then,” William offered.

  “Or perhaps sold into white slavery,” Navarrone suggested. “There are white slavers operating out of New Orleans, Governor…as you, no doubt, are aware.”

  “No,” the governor admitted. “I was not aware of it. How came you by such a knowledge?”

  “Privateering, sir. One must have ears in all places to succeed,” Navarrone said. “Cheer up, lad,” he exclaimed then. “Perhaps your lady bled to death from the loss of her fingers and was not sold into slavery. Keep the ring. It is yours, after all…and a reminder of your beloved.”

  “And you found nothing else in the hold?” Richard asked. “In the barrels and crates of stores? Only food and other necessaries?”

  “Inquire of Governor Claiborne, Richard Pelletier,” Navarrone said. “The ship and all her riches belong to him now.”

  “May we see the stores, Governor?” William queried.

  “Why, of course,” the governor agreed. “But what could you hope to find to offer further information about this Cristabel?”

  “Perhaps more fingers?” Navarrone suggested. He was baiting William and Richard—implying he knew what they would not find in the barrels and crates stored in the Chichester’s hold—for he had already taken it.

  “Perhaps,” Richard said.

  “By all means, investigate, William,” the governor said. “My men will escort you to the Chichester in the morning. Meanwhile, you are dismissed, for I must speak with Captain Navarrone without any citizens present…in order to conclude these matters.”

  “Yes, Governor,” William nearly growled. “Come along, Richard. I believe we have the information we were seeking here.”

  Cristabel was near to bursting into flames with frustration. All that had transpired—all that had been revealed—she heard every word of it, yes. But she had seen nothing!

  “You may dismiss your men, Navarrone,” the governor said. “We will conclude our business, and you may join them then.”

  “Yes, sir,” Navarrone said.

  “There are taverns down the way, men,” the governor called to the pirates. “Your captain will join you forthwith.”

  Cristabel grew rigid, for she felt Navarrone’s approach. She did not hear his footsteps or his voice, yet she felt the warm allure of him at her back.

  “Baskerville,” he began in a lowered voice, “take the men to the tavern La Petite Grenouille and wait.”

  “We ain’t all of us men, Cap’n,” Baskerville mumbled.

  “Oh, I am well aware of that, Baskerville,” Navarrone growled. Cristabel glanced up to him to see him glaring at her with the full fury of hell itself. “I recognized that charming little bottom the moment she turned her back to me!” He leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “James’s trousers could never completely disguise your enticing curves, love. Just be glad it is only I that am so familiar with them as to have recognized you.”

  “Captain, I-I—” she began.

  “Off to La Petite Grenouille, lads,” he said loudly. “And keep a wary eye on our young James here, Baskerville…else he finds himself in more trouble than he can manage.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Baskerville grumbled. “Come along, lads. The cap’n will settle with the governor from here.”

  Taking hold of Cristabel’s arm, Baskerville pushed her ahead of him. “You’re a daring wench, miss. Not a soul can deny that.”

  “Will he kill me, Baskerville?” she asked as they stepped outside once more. “Will he flog me with his cat, do you think?”

  “I don’t know, miss,” he said. “The cap’n was pure furious, he was.”

  “And what of James? I-I smashed him over the head with a bottle of rum,” she stammered. “None of this was his fault…only mine.”

  Baskerville chuckled, still holding to her arm as he pushed her along. “Oh, you smashed him over the head with a bottle of rum, undressed him all by yourself, and set out with us, somehow already knowing our ways for going ashore to meet the governor. Is that it?”

  “Exactly,” she lied, though she knew he knew she lied.

  Baskerville tugged her hat, pulling its brim lower still.

  “Well, if you can convince Cap’n Navarrone of that story, I can learn to fly like a bird, girl,” Baskerville chuckled. “Now, let’s have us a drink at the Grenouille, lads,” he called to the pirates ahead of them. “It’s best we all be ready when the Blue Blade arrives to deal with this pretty pirate, eh?”

  The men all cheered and laughed, but Cristabel was only further terrified. What would Navarrone do to James? What would he do to her? She tried to envision the excruciating pain inflicted by the cat at flogging, yet she knew even her vivid imagination could not fathom it.

  “Don’t worry, lassie,” Baskerville said as he opened the door to the tavern and ushered her inside. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Perhaps the cap’n won’t flog you…in exchange for certain delights you can offer.”

  Cristabel gasped, mortified by his inference. But Baskerville merely chuckled.

  “You sit here and wait for Cap’n Navarrone,” he said, pushing her into a chair at a small table. “He’ll be right along. Indeed he will, and I have the feeling this will be a night you’ll not soon forget, Miss Cristabel Albay.”

  Cristabel tried to restrain her tears, but several escaped over her cheeks despite her willful efforts. Slowly she began to reconcile herself. Her fate would be what it would be, and she fairly deserved it.

  Again Navarrone’s warning echoed in her mind. One decision can change the entire course of a life, he had said. In that moment, Cristabel thought there had never been truer words spoken—not in all the ages of the earth.

>   Chapter Eight

  “And you suspect treason is afoot? And close to me?” Governor Claiborne inquired.

  “I fear I more than merely suspect it, sir,” Navarrone answered.

  “But who? Who would be in league with King George?”

  Navarrone paused—for he was not yet certain he should reveal what he knew as yet. The governor obviously held great trust in William and Richard Pelletier—or at least in William. He did not think Claiborne would easily accept an accusation against his friend. Thus, Navarrone simply fed him broth instead of stew.

  “I am certain I will be able to trap the traitors,” Navarrone said. “I am certain of it, sir. But I ask for your patience…as well as your own wise and wary eye. I must give my men their respite. We have been at sea much longer than I had originally planned, and I have promised them time with their families. Thus, we will take our rest…and I will strategize as we do. For you know there is nothing more repulsive to me than a traitor.”

  “Yes,” Claiborne agreed. “I own the same feelings.”

  Navarrone watched as the governor frowned and was pensive for long moments. He was afraid Claiborne would press him further—that he would not own the patience necessary in waiting for Navarrone’s trap to spring.

  Governor Claiborne inhaled a deep breath of resolve and nodded. “I trust in your character, Navarrone,” he said, “and your judgment where the character of others is concerned. Take your rest. Let your men renew their strength. Then inform me as to how I may assist in revealing these treasonous traitors and bringing them to the feet of justice.”

  “Yes, sir,” Navarrone said. “We will prove them to be worthy of hanging for their crimes.”

  Claiborne frowned. “And you believe these same men are running the white slavery operations?”

  Navarrone nodded. “I believe they are the foulest form of men…those who abduct innocents from the coast of Africa for sale into bondage here…then abduct our virtuous young women to sell in other countries, yes. Any trade and sale of human beings is contemptible and depraved.”