The Sea Hawk

by Brenda Adcock

  She sat down on her cot and waited for Bentham to send word she could return to the deck. It was overly warm in her room and she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress to cool off even a little. Unexpectedly she heard shouting and the sounds of gunfire. She ran to the porthole and stopped, stunned to see a second ship tightly against the side of the Viper.

  She started toward her cabin door. Maybe Kitty would know what was happening. As she reached the door, she heard the sound of a woman crying and flung it open. To her amazement a dirty looking man, shorter than she, turned and grinned when he saw her. He was in obvious need of serious dental care. If it hadn't been for the pistol aimed in her direction, she might have thought nothing of it. Without thinking, she took a step back into her cabin and attempted to slam the heavy wooden door closed. His body prevented her from accomplishing the feat and she jumped back from the door, glancing around for something she could use as a weapon, eliciting a chuckle from the man. From his appearance it was hard to determine his age, but Julia guessed him to be in his thirties.

  Waving his pistol from her to the door, the man said, "Madamoiselle. S'il vous plaît."

  "Qu'ect-ce que vous voulez?" Julia asked, demanding to know what was happening and hoping her college French was sufficient.

  The man seemed surprised to hear her speak to him in French, but reached out and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her toward the door. Forced into the narrow passageway, she saw Lady Kent crying uncontrollably and looking as if she might swoon. Joining Kitty, Julia whispered, "What's happening?"

  "Pirates," Kitty whispered in return.

  "What?" Julia said loudly, no longer concerned with whispering. "You've got to be shi... I mean, you must be kidding me!" A moment later a hand shoved her forward and she ran into Lord Kent's corpulent back.

  The four passengers were herded toward the steps leading up to the main deck. Light in the passageway was dim and when a hand pulled Julia onto the deck, she squinted against the sun on the horizon. To her right she saw Captain Bentham involved in a heated discussion with a bored looking man in tan pants and black shirt. The man cast a disinterested glance in the passengers' direction. To Julia's left stood a group of about a dozen men, all shabbily dressed and unshaven. She hadn't seen them aboard the Viper before, but it was obvious they were not members of the party now standing on the vessel.

  In the midst of Bentham's argument, Julia saw movement from the corner of her eye and felt her mouth drop open when she looked toward the railing along the port side of the deck. A woman with short black hair combed forward onto her face from the crown, looking rather like portraits Julia had seen of Napoleon Bonaparte, stepped over the railing onto the deck of the Viper. She was tall, dressed in a dazzling white shirt with flowing sleeves over formfitting black pants. Calf-high black boots completed her attire and the effect was one of elegant panther-like sleekness. A sheathed cutlass hung from her wide belt and a pistol was anchored in the waist of her pants. The woman glanced around at the people assembled on the deck and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest to watch the proceedings.

  As the man in black and tan continued his conversation with Captain Bentham, the woman looked bored and smiled crookedly as she scanned the people around her. When her eyes came to Julia, they paused for the briefest of moments before continuing their movement. The lightness of the amber eyes meeting hers stunned Julia and caused her to look away. The woman appeared to be almost a head taller than Julia's own five-six and, although she couldn't tell much about her otherwise, Julia was willing to bet good money there was a perfect body beneath the clothing. Blushing at her thoughts, she cleared her throat quietly.

  "You have attacked a ship of the Royal Navy on the high seas without provocation while you flew the British standard," Julia heard Bentham say loudly.

  "Please forgive us, mon Capitaine," the man in tan said with a shrug, accompanied by a smile. "We cheated."

  Julia tried to suppress a laugh at the absurdity of the Captain's attitude. She covered her mouth and looked around, finding light amber eyes on her again.

  SIMONE MOREAU WAITED for Henri Archambault, her second in command, to finish his discussion with the ignorant and pompous British captain. It gave her time to assess the situation. She couldn't believe how easily the Captain had fallen for her ruse. Despite a few cuts and bruises, the crews of both ships had come away virtually unscathed. Now she found herself with another vessel, a group of men who were apparently prisoners, and four passengers, one of whom was incredibly attractive. Despite her beauty, if this one was like other British women of her acquaintance, she was certain to be cold and totally devoid of passion.

  Growing bored with the pointless discussion with the ship's captain, Simone pushed away from the railing and strode toward the prisoners. She suspected who they might be, but wanted to confirm her suspicions.

  "Who is your leader?" she asked in careful French-accented English.

  A middle-aged man dressed in filthy torn clothing and sporting at least two weeks of beard growth pushed his way through the small group and stopped in front of Simone. "I believe that would be me, madam, although I have no rank."

  "You are captured American sailors, are you not?"

  "That's correct. I believe we are being taken to Jamaica for detainment."

  "No longer, mon ami," Simone said as she patted him on the shoulder.

  Turning away from the sailors, Simone walked toward Bentham and Archambault. As she passed the blonde with short hair she stopped and turned to look at her, taking her in from head to toe, her eyes pausing briefly at the revealing cleavage. She noticed the woman's hands clench while her body stiffened under the close scrutiny. When their eyes met, Simone saw quiet defiance in them. Without speaking, she raised her hand and trailed it down the woman's face.

  "Take your filthy hands off her," Bentham demanded as he stepped toward them. A brief smile crossed Simone's lips as she swung her arm, backhanding the British officer hard enough to knock him down. As he fell to the deck, the man in black and tan drew his cutlass and pressed it to Bentham's throat.

  "No, don't!" Julia shouted.

  Simone glanced over her shoulder at the blonde, looking at her darkly as she held up a hand to stay the other man's actions. "He is someone special to you?" she asked casually.

  "He is a human being."

  Simone laughed as two crewmen picked the captain up from the deck.

  Henri Archambault stood next to Simone. "What are you going to do with the Americans?"

  "Give them the ship. Lower the long boats, put the British crew and passengers on them and let them go. Collect anything of value and have it taken to Le Faucon."

  "All the passengers?" he asked. Simone looked at Julia again without answering. "She is a beautiful woman, Faucon," Archambault said in French.

  "Beauty on the outside means nothing without knowing what lies beneath, Henri," Simone responded in kind.

  Julia quickly became annoyed. "I speak French. Please do not talk about me as if I am not here," she said.

  "Pardonnez moi," Simone said with a slight bow. "Take this one to my ship. Put the others in the boats with provisions for one day."

  "You can't do that," Julia protested, recalling her own fight for survival a few days earlier. "It will take more than one day to reach a safe port. Lord and Lady Kent are older and ill-equipped to survive long at sea."

  "One day's provisions," Simone reiterated.

  "I will do whatever you want if you give them two day's provisions."

  Stepping closer, Simone said, "You are in no position to bargain, Mademoiselle." Her eyes bore into Julia's. Pulling the blonde roughly to her, she said huskily, "You have no idea what I might want from you." Simone quickly took Julia's lips as if they were her possessions and just as quickly released her, laughing as she turned to walk away. "Take them to the boats," she ordered amid the laughter of her men.

  "I insist on accompanying Miss Blanchard," the flaming hair
ed woman next to Julia demanded.

  "No, Kitty. Go with the others," Julia said defiantly, still recovering from the unexpected, but breathtaking kiss.

  "No, my lady," Kitty said, placing her hands on her hips. "I will not leave you alone in the hands of this...this riff-raff."

  Simone motioned with her head and a rough-looking crewman grabbed Kitty by the arm and began to drag her away. She struggled against him and eventually managed to slap his face with enough force to split his lip. Angry, he released her and struck her, knocking her to the deck. He wiped the blood from his mouth and stepped toward her to strike her again. Simone drew her pistol and pointed it at him. "Marcel!"

  Stopping, his hand raised, he glared at Simone.

  Ignoring the threat aimed at him, he spun around to seek revenge against the impudent redhead. He brought his hand up to deliver the second blow, but was stopped when Simone shoved him away from Kitty with her boot.

  Seeing the look on Simone's face, Marcel smiled weakly, "But Faucon--"

  Julia jumped at the thunderous report of Simone's pistol. The impact struck Marcel in the chest killing him instantly. The blue-gray haze of spent gunpowder drifted up and around Simone's head. Julia's hand flew to her mouth and she turned away. Calmly replacing the pistol in her waistband, Simone turned in a slow circle looking for further signs of disobedience from members of her crew.

  "My orders will not be disobeyed!" Simone said, her voice strong and clear. "Archambault! Finish searching this ship and dispose of that," she ordered, nodding to the bloody figure next to Kitty. "We leave."

  Two nervous-looking men stepped forward, each grabbing one of Marcel's arms. They dragged the lifeless form toward the ship's railing while Simone offered Kitty her hand. "My apologies, Mademoiselle. Are you a servant?"

  "I am Lady Kent's maid," Kitty said, straightening her clothing.

  "I could kill you as well and end this disagreement now," Simone said with a smile.

  "Then do it," Kitty dared as she faced Simone.

  "No, Kitty!" Julia said, grabbing the maid's arm and pulling her back.

  "She is a brave woman," Simone said to Julia. She pointed to a handsome young man standing nearby.

  "Anton, escort these two to Le Faucon. Lock them in the hold until we are under way," she ordered as she strode away.

  Simone glanced back at the two women as they moved across the deck.

  "We cannot take those women with us, Faucon," Archambault said as he joined her.

  "Why not?" she asked, appreciatively watching the blonde with the unusually short hair.

  "It will create trouble for us unnecessarily," he frowned. "The men have not been in port for too long."

  "You cannot be serious, Henri," Simone said with a deep throaty laugh. "Tell the crew the women are under my personal protection," Simone said. "If anyone touches them, they shall answer to me."

  "Does that include you as well, Faucon?"

  Simone moved closer to Archambault. Her eyes narrowed. "Do not presume that because you are my second in command you have the right to question what I do, Archambault," Simone retorted.

  "The British will be hunting for us because of these women," Henri reasoned.

  "We will release them as soon as we reach a port where we can drop them off without any danger to us," Simone said with an unconcerned shrug.

  Unhappy, Henri grunted as he walked away. "Lower the long boats!" he ordered.

  Chapter Five

  "I CANNOT BELIEVE you practically forced that woman to take you," Julia fumed as she paced in the small room. "She could have murdered you as well as that poor man."

  "It seemed a more prudent choice than floating around in a very small boat with a very large woman such as Lady Kent." Kitty chuckled. "Besides, Anton is quite an attractive gentleman, is he not?"

  "You should remember that he is a pirate, not a gentleman," Julia reminded her. "What was it he called his sister?"

  "Faucon, or something like that. What does it mean?"

  Julia walked to a small porthole in the cabin and peered out. "It means falcon or hawk. A bird of prey." And just as lethal as the woman herself. Night was falling rapidly, shooting the sky overhead with gray and pink clouds. Julia looked around and saw a candle and matches on a small corner table. She struck a match and smelled the strong odor of sulfur assault her nose as the small flame from the flickering candle illuminated the damp, musty smelling room they were locked in. Julia hated small places. She wasn't claustrophobic, but hated her inability to move around freely and investigate her surroundings.

  "Where do you think we are going?" Kitty asked as she stretched out on a cot.

  "Who the hell knows?" Julia mumbled. "Wherever pirates go, I suppose." It was her second encounter with pirates and so far this one didn't seem to be much of an improvement over the first one.

  Julia and Kitty heard footsteps coming down the ladder into the hold not long after darkness engulfed the ship. Both sat up quickly on their cots and waited, glancing back and forth between the door and one another. It wasn't until a middle-aged man unlocked and swung the door open that Julia realized she was holding her breath.

  "Suivez moi," he ordered, motioning to them to follow him.

  Silently Julia climbed out of the hold followed by Kitty, refusing the man's hand when he offered it to assist her onto the deck. The night sky looked as vast as the ocean, and seemingly shot through with thousands of twinkling diamonds resting on an endless black velvet cushion. Julia took a deep breath of the sea air to rejuvenate after the time spent in the warm and stuffy hold. The man motioned for them to continue following him past a number of men who looked appreciatively at the two women. Stopping in front of a door beneath the wheel deck, the man rapped it firmly.

  "Entrez," a woman's voice responded. The man opened the door and stood aside as Julia and Kitty tentatively entered the captain's quarters. The wooden walls and floors gleamed like burnished copper from the lanterns illuminating the cabin. The woman they called Faucon was seated at a desk writing when they entered and turned briefly to glance at them. "Merci, Francois. You may go."

  Julia glanced around the room, surprised at its warmth. A sturdy piece of furniture resembling a modern-day platform bed stood against the starboard wall beneath an open porthole, allowing the cooler evening breeze into the room. No doubt to cool the captain following a passionate interlude. Julia was shocked when the thought entered her mind and was sure she was blushing. On either side of the desk were a bookcase and a chest of drawers. A large table spread with maps and charts occupied the space in the middle of the room. A bottle of wine and crystal goblets were arranged on a tray on one side of the table. A porcelain bathtub took up a portion of the portside wall. If she hadn't already been impressed by the height and slender figure of the ship's captain before, Julia was now. She closed the journal she was writing in and pushed away from the desk. Light golden eyes took in Julia and Kitty as she strode to the table in the middle of the room and opened the bottle. "Wine?" she asked quietly.

  While both women were thirsty, Julia declined, much to Kitty's chagrin. Pouring two glasses of wine the woman handed one to Kitty, who looked at the glass longingly and then back at Julia, who frowned disapprovingly.

  "Does she speak for you, Mademoiselle?" the woman asked in accented English.

  "Well, I...," Kitty began.

  "Are you her servant?"

  "I am a maid, ma'am."

  "There are no servants on my ship," the captain said as she set the glass down within Kitty's reach and shifted her eyes to Julia.

  "Allow me to introduce myself. I have shown a regrettable lack of manners. I am Simone Moreau and you are guests, albeit reluctant ones, on my vessel, Le Faucon de Mer. What is your name?" Simone asked, looking at Julia over her wine glass as she took a sip.

  "Doc...um...Julia Blanchard," Julia answered, deciding it would only lead to more questions if she used her educational title. "This is my friend, Kitty Longmire. When will we be release
d?"

  "Soon. Please be seated," Simone said softly as she lowered her long body onto a wooden chair at the table.

  "We will stand, thank you," Julia said stiffly. There was something disconcerting about the woman and Julia felt self-conscious under her steady gaze.

  "The British are a stubborn lot, are they not?" Simone said to Kitty, smiling slightly. "But you are not British, unless I am mistaken."

  "Irish," Kitty said.

  "If anything happens to Lord and Lady Kent I will see that you are hunted down and convicted like the common criminal you are," Julia blurted out.

  Chuckling, Simone said, "Certainly something has already happened to your friends, but as you can see, I am still free. The true reason I asked to see you was to apologize for my earlier behavior. It was a necessary action to demonstrate my authority to my crew. I meant no offense by my actions."

  "I am sorry, Miss Moreau, but I cannot accept your apology," Julia replied. The kiss had been a surprise, but not the crushingly brutal attack she might have imagined. In fact, she found it to be amazingly soft and gentle. Under much different circumstances, Julia would have sought more.

  "A captain must keep her crew happy to assure their loyalty. If they believe I am interested in you as a conquest, they would not dare to bother you. However, if it would make you happy I can still give you and Mademoiselle Longmire to them. They are good men, but alas, they are just men."

  "Like that poor man you murdered this afternoon?" Julia sneered.

  "He failed to obey my order," Simone said. Turning to Kitty she asked, "Would you have preferred I allow Marcel to strike you a second time?"

  Kitty brought a hand up to touch the still-tender skin of her cheek. "No, but there must have been a more humane way."

  Setting her glass on the table, Simone stood and took a step closer to the two women. "Perhaps I should take a lesson from your British friends. I could have tied him to a mast, stripped his shirt off, and bloodied his back with thirty lashes. Marcel is dead because he failed to control his emotions. He could have lingered for weeks in excruciating pain only to eventually die of infection. But I can understand how you might consider such a lashing more humane."