Bound by the Buccaneer (Pirates of the Jolie Rouge)

by Normandie Alleman

  “I merely wondered. When we met he rescued me from the Humphrey’s ship, and we were washed up on an island, I fell in love with him. He took some convincing, but I finally got him to agree to allow me to sail with him.”

  “You are an unusual woman, Frederica. Most gals would be pestering him to settle down and raise babies by now. But you’re content to sail the seas as his mistress?”

  “Content? I’m thrilled. I don’t want to be tied down by apron strings and bawling babies. No thank you. I want adventure, to see the world, find treasure.” She gestured at the vast ocean in front of them. “Out there. The world has so much to offer, and I want it all!”

  Miles reached over and fingered one of her shell-bedecked locks. “You are a special girl Frederica. I am pleased to have known you.” He winked at her. “But you can tell Gaston that I pose no threat to him. I can see that you love him, as I love my Josephine.”

  “He might prefer to hear it from you,” she hedged.

  “Now that,” he said standing and helping her to her feet, “I doubt very much.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gaston met with the three other captains in his alliance aboard the Ocean’s Knave the day they were to sail. He had to convince them to sail all four ships under a red flag. Pugwash had no problem with the idea, but Appling and Chatham disagreed, thinking it might be too aggressive a stance to take. The flag might be interpreted as the widely feared Jolie Rouge which was flown by only the most violent of pirates. The Jolie Rouge was a message to other ships that the pirates aboard would offer no quarter, and those who opposed them would be shown no mercy.

  Gaston’s position was that it did no harm to frighten other ships. With three fully manned sloops and the Independence, which was a naval cutter that Appling had outfitted for pirating, they would clearly outnumber and outgun most any other ship they came across. If the crew members on the ships they encountered were alarmed enough, they were more likely to cooperate with a pirate ship bearing the red flag. It would be foolish for them to fire on such a large force, and Gaston expected to encounter more white flags of surrender than canon fire.

  “The flags are plain crimson, no skull or crossbones. If you need an out, you can explain that we fly the red flags in deference to your leader’s experience sailing with the French Navy. Their flags are red.”

  “But none of us ever sailed with the French Navy,” Chatham argued, scratching his head dubiously.

  Gaston threw up his hands. “But I am French and no one will know that!”

  Chatham nodded, but Appling shook his head again as if he were uncertain how he had gotten himself into this arrangement in the first place. Ultimately Chatham and Appling went along with Gaston and Pugwash. It was decided, they would each fly a scarlet flag devoid of any decoration. If in the future they wanted to add a design they would be allowed.

  Just before the noon hour they set sail for Port Royale, with the Ocean’s Knave in the lead. The Independence and the Volusia flanked either side, which left the Greed of Hades to bring up the rear. The four crews together boasted two hundred-fifty men and forty-six guns, a formidable force on the seas by any standards.

  They hoisted anchor and Gaston stayed on deck supervising. “Let run the canvas!” he hollered to his crew. The wind whipped against his face, and the ship creaked and groaned under his feet. This was his favorite part of a voyage—the beginning. At the start of a trip he was always optimistic, giddy with excitement about the impending adventure. His spirits soared as he anticipated whatever lay before him.

  His thoughts were interrupted when he looked up to see Frederica approaching him, that scrawny cat Old Bones following along behind her. The cat’s presence annoyed him, and he took a deep breath. “Greetings, how kind of you to join us, you and that wretched beast,” he said, darkly.

  “What do you mean? Where else would I be?” She squinted in the bright sunlight.

  “I thought you might have chosen to sail aboard the Independence,” he said with a petulance that he immediately regretted.

  “Why would I do that?” she asked, a shadow crossing her face. The cat wound his way around their feet, first hers then his, then he disappeared under Frederica’s skirts.

  “I saw you earlier with Captain Appling, perhaps you would prefer his company,” Gaston snipped. Even as the words left his mouth he wished he could bite them back. But something inside him had snapped when he’d seen Frederica and Appling playing on the beach earlier. Who did Appling think he was? And what was wrong with Frederica that she didn’t see the man’s less than honorable intentions toward her? At that moment he’d like to drown them both.

  “Gaston, he was helping me with my parrying, showing me some new tricks with the cutlass. I should think you would want me to improve my skills, help me better prepare for the battles we shall face.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, I do not approve of Captain Appling taking on the role of your instructor. That is a position to be filled by none other than myself!”

  Her shoulders drooped. “So you are jealous. That’s what all this is about.” Old Bones appeared from underneath her skirt and meowed.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he simply glared at her, and then the cat.

  “Miles loves Josephine. He has no feelings for me, none of them do. And I have no feelings for them. If you recall, the only reason I serviced those men was because you commanded me to,” she said with a scowl. “I did it to prove my loyalty to you, and you repay me by questioning that very loyalty?”

  Gaston searched for the words to explain himself, but came up short. “It-it’s a complicated situation,” he stammered, stomping his foot on the deck.

  Her face was a mask of anger now. “Yes, it is, but it is one you have created. I have done nothing but obey you, and you have no one to blame but yourself.” With that she scooped up Old Bones, turned on her heel and strode toward the captain’s quarters.

  Her words stung as sure as if she’d slapped him. He took a swig from a bottle of rum, welcoming the burning trail of liquid warmth as it traveled down his throat and into his belly. And he despaired as he realized, with a heavy heart, that she was right.

  * * *

  The next day Gaston awoke on the ship’s deck with a pounding headache. He’d stayed topside and drank with Tagbor and some of the others until he’d passed out on deck. After his argument with Frederica, he’d wanted to steer clear of her.

  One of the deck hands brought him some hardtack, and he chewed on it, hoping it would settle his stomach. The drink helped him forget his problems for a few hours, but it wasn’t a satisfactory solution. When he awoke, his troubles had not magically disappeared. He remained on deck for the rest of the day overseeing the crew and trying not to think about his jealousy of Frederica and Appling and the rest. Keeping himself occupied was preferable to sulking all day.

  They sailed north without incident until late afternoon when two ships appeared on the horizon. As they drew closer Gaston realized they’d had the good fortune to happen upon a Spanish Galleon and her escort. The escort meant the main ship would be carrying precious cargo. The Spanish were always transporting valuable goods and sometimes gold from its territories to the west through the Spanish Main on their way to Europe. Aboard the Volusia, Chatham still maintained his letters of mark as a privateer from the English governor, documents essentially hiring Captain Chatham and his men to rob the Spanish for England. The practice of privateering allowed for the English to profit from the pirating that was already so prevalent and rob their enemies of their precious treasury at the same time.

  Gaston raised the call and the Ocean’s Knave prepared to attack. The Galleon was large, with an estimated seventy guns and approximately two hundred men. Its escort was only slightly smaller. The size of the ships, the heavy gunnery, and the weight of the probable gold aboard meant the Spanish ships had almost no chance of outrunning Gaston’s fleet.

  But as they sailed closer, it was evident the Spanish had no inte
ntion of surrendering.

  “If they intend to put up a fight, let’s show them a fight,” Gaston said. “Fire a warning shot!” He called to his gunners.

  Two canons fired across the bow of the Galleon. In response they heard shouting in Spanish and the gun doors of the big ship opened slowly. Moments later they began firing.

  “Full on ahead!” Gaston shouted. He wanted to get the Ocean’s Knave out of firing range and allow the smaller, quicker Volusia to come in for a shot. The Independence and the Greed of Hades had their sights set on the smaller escort ship.

  But before the Ocean’s Knave could begin maneuvering out of range, a booming explosion walloped the crew with incoming canon fire. Shards of wood flew through the air. Glass from a window shattered, some of the riggings were damaged and one of the canvases torn to bits. The smell of gunpowder assaulted his nose, and the deafening blast seemed to go on for ten minutes as the crew scurried around trying to take cover. Some men ducked low on the deck while others ran below to escape the many projectiles hurtling past.

  Gaston signaled a different plan to the Volusia and ordered his gunners to return the volley. “Fire at the riggings!” he yelled, hoping to dismantle the Spanish ship’s masts and make it impossible for her to escape.

  The guns went off with a loud roar. They hit their mark, and several parts of the Spanish ship’s mast came tumbling down amidst a thick, black cloud. As the smoke cleared Gaston was relieved the Volusia was running alongside the Galleon, its crew preparing to board.

  Removing his hat, Gaston wiped his brow. A section of his ship was on fire, and the heat was brutal. He rushed to the other end and raised his spyglass.

  Good show! Pugwash and his men had already boarded the escort and were taking prisoners. Occasionally a man fell or jumped, it was hard to discern, overboard. Gaston shook his head. He’d never understood why those who were beaten could not accept defeat. When he found himself on the other side of a boarding pike, he always resorted to verbal negotiating. He couldn’t imagine falling on his own sword as he’d seen so many do. Sides could be changed so easily as many of the Spanish would realize when they signed on to sail with Gaston and his men. Why end it all over one battle? Life was nothing if not a battle, and there would always be another one around the corner.

  Gaston summoned some men to go ‘round and survey the damage. They’d lost some men, and the ship would need repairs, but as he watched Chatham run the Spanish Captain through with his sword, he doubted there would be much more in the way of rebellion from that crew.

  “She’s taking on water,” a deckhand reported breathlessly.

  “How bad is it?” Gaston asked.

  “It’s not good, but she should be able to reach Port Royale with constant bailing, if there are no delays.

  “See to it. Round up twenty men and get to bailing,” Gaston said.

  “We lost one canvas, Capt’n, but we have another we can raise,” another man said.

  “Make it so,” Gaston said.

  The smoke was still thick in the air, his eye stung and he coughed.

  It was then that he saw her. Behind the man, across the deck lying in a heap was the collapsed figure of Frederica. Bells of alarm clanged in his head and he ran toward her, unaware of the debris littering the deck.

  He pulled her lifeless body into his lap. A long red gash ran diagonally across her forehead and spread deep into her hairline. Cradling her head in his arms he held her close. “Freddie,” he whispered into her ear. “My darling Freddie.”

  When she did not respond, he spoke louder, more insistently, “Freddie!” He pressed two fingers to her neck just below her jawline. She had a pulse. Hallelujah!

  But dear Lord in heaven, why wasn’t she moving? What had he done? Why had he brought the woman he loved into such a dangerous situation? Hell, he knew the dangers, and he cursed himself for not setting her up in a little cottage on one of the islands where she would have been safe.

  Even as he asked these questions he knew the answer. Frederica would never have had it any other way. She would never have agreed to such an arrangement, and she was an inordinately obstinate woman. For Frederica life was about adventure. She laughed in the face of danger and flouted convention every day.

  Stroking her hair, he called to her once again, but wherever she was he could not reach her. His sweat rolled down his cheek and onto hers, and it wasn’t until he swiped it away that he realized it wasn’t sweat at all, but tears leaking from his one good eye.

  Holding her in his arms, the chaos of the battle and everything else in the world melted away. He couldn’t lose her, he just couldn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Upon inspection it turned out the Spanish Galleon was indeed carrying a massive amount of gold in her holds. When the smoke dissipated and the booty had been transferred from the Spanish ships onto the four pirate ships, the other three captains rowed over to Ocean’s Knave for a conference with Gaston.

  The gold had been split into four shares between them. Gaston and Chatham would take ten percent to the governor in Port Royale, and since the Ocean’s Knave was taking on water, the Volusia would carry it. Pugwash and Appling would take the remainder of the gold to a secret location known only to the four captains. They would bury a portion of the treasure and distribute the rest to their men. Circumstances forced Gaston and Chatham to trust the other two men with their gold, and threats were made as to what they would do to Pugwash and Appling if they made off with the treasure.

  Gaston wasn’t terribly concerned about that, but Chatham was younger and unseasoned. Plus, it never hurt for Pugwash and Appling to fear retribution if they were to stray from the agreement. First of all, Gaston adhered to the code that there was honor among thieves, and second, he was too worried about Frederica to be all that concerned about the gold. It had been hours and she had still not come to. There would always be more gold, but there would never be another Frederica, and Gaston found it difficult to focus on the business at hand.

  The plan was for Gaston to sail to Port Royale for his meeting with Governor Whitehall. Gaston and Chatham would settle the score with him, and then they would sail for the secret location and meet up with the others.

  The men aboard the conquered Spanish ships would either choose to join the ranks of the victorious pirates who sailed under the red flag, or they would be taken as prisoners aboard the Ocean’s Knave. Gaston would turn those prisoners over to the governor to do with as he saw fit—a peace offering of sorts. In their experience only a handful of men would choose this option, most joined the pirate crew.

  The captains of the conquered ships in addition to scores of their sailors had been killed in the battle. Several men of the red ships had been killed during battle, twenty-three to be exact, with eleven injured including Frederica.

  In determining what to do with the wounded, Gaston assessed their resources. Pugwash had a blacksmith aboard his ship who had been known to handle amputations. The five men who might require such an operation would be loaded onto the Greed of Hades.

  That left six people injured. Chatham had no medical personnel on board, and Frederica had been the closest thing the Ocean’s Knave had to a doctor. While Chatham and Pugwash talked triage for the remaining injured, Miles laid a hand on Gaston’s shoulder and took him aside.

  “Has she awakened?” Miles asked in a low voice.

  “No,” Gaston whispered. He shook off Miles’ arm and began to pace in the small room where they had assembled.

  “I will take her with me,” Miles said.

  “You most certainly will not!” Gaston whirled round, glaring at Miles.

  “Calm yourself, mate,” Miles raked a hand through his blond mane, which was wild and filled with soot after the battle. Gaston noted one of his shoulders was covered in blood. He pointed to it with a questioning look. “Not mine,” Miles said, and Gaston nodded.

  “The Independence is the only ship with a physician on board,” Miles explained.

&n
bsp; “Is he any good?” Gaston asked.

  “Better than most. If anyone can help her it will be him.”

  Gaston studied Miles. The man’s brow creased with worry, and Gaston recognized sincerity in his eyes. He had known Miles a long time, had always known him to carry a torch for his beloved Josephine, but he had known Frederica carnally. Was his concern for Gaston or for Frederica?

  Deciding to bring the matter into the open, Gaston inquired, “What is your interest in Frederica?”

  “What do you mean?” Miles asked. “If you mean do I have feelings for the lass, the only sentiment that passes between us is that of friendship.”

  “Even after you three bedded her?” Gaston made an angry swipe of his hand that included the other two captains who were wrapping up their conversation.

  Miles shook his head. “Gaston that was a brave and perhaps foolish thing for you to do, offering your woman to us like that. Of course we took you up on it. And while Frederica has considerable charms, my heart belongs to someone else.”

  “Josephine?”

  Miles nodded.

  “Hell, Gaston. I’d take Frederica for myself, but the girl is besotted with you,” Pugwash interjected.

  Gaston eyed him doubtfully.

  Chatham chimed in. “Pugwash speaks the truth Galette.” He sighed, “Such a comely lass, but so in love with you.”

  Gaston let their words sink in before laying a hand on Miles’ forearm. “Take her then. Promise me that you and that doctor will do everything you can for her. Everything possible.”

  Miles covered Gaston’s hand with his own and nodded.

  “Everything. You must give me your word, Appling,” Gaston said with a mixture of gratitude and fear.

  “Nothing less,” Miles assured him.

  Moments later Hatch carried Frederica to the side of the ship. She looked like a tiny ragdoll slumped in his arms.