by Rebecca Hart
Lost Hope
Copyright Notice
Lost Hope
Copyright 2012 Rebecca Hart
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean -- August 1649
Sailors shouted to each other, their feet scuffling across the deck as their swords clashed in battle. The air in the lady hole reeked of gunpowder and death. Thankfully, the cannonballs, which had been smashing into the ship’s hull with regular, deafening precision, had stopped. A young couple huddled together in the dark. The man wrapped his arms around the woman, who feverishly rocked a swaddled bundle. She cast a wide-eyed glance at her husband as the infant wailed its dismay at the top of her lungs.
“If you don’t hush her, Margaret, they'll find us,” the man said.
The woman rocked faster. “I’m trying.”
The door to the tiny compartment screeched open. The couple squinted toward the portal. A tall shadow filled the doorway, backlit by bright sunlight. Green eyes glowed from the dark form, its thick voice echoed through the tiny closet.
“What do we have here? Looks like a family of bilge rats.”
Untangling himself from his wife, the man stepped out first, blocking access to his family. “Please, sir. I’m a man of means. Allow me to pay safe passage for my family.
The woman released a startled scream as her husband dropped to the deck with a sickening thud. Blood gushed from the wide slice across his throat; his unseeing eyes stared at the azure sky.
Rough hands pulled the hysterical woman from her hiding spot, and dragged her, kicking, onto the deck. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks. She closed her eyes and rocked the crying child, her voice cracking as she whispered repeatedly, “though hope is frail, it’s hard to kill.”
One of the deckhand stepped forward and placed a hand on his captain’s arm. “Cap’n, let me and Joe take the baby back to The Albatross. Elsa’s been waitin’ a long time for a child of ‘er own. ‘Sides, the wee one shouldn’t be witness ta this.”
Nicor’s eyes narrowed as his gaze fell to the hand on his sleeve. Catching the look, Matthews quickly released the Captain’s arm.
Nicor’s lips curled into a dark smile. He nodded. “Aye, Pops, take the baby to her new mother while I get acquainted with this lovely prize.” The captain’s gaze swept back to the woman huddled on the deck.
The sailor squatted and tried to pull the crying bundle from the rocking woman. At his touch, the woman jerked away, locking her bleak eyes on him. “Please, keep her safe for me.”
Pops nodded. “Aye, miss, ye have me word.”
The woman let out a sigh and released her hold.
Pops rose, nodded to his captain, and took the whimpering child away. As he crossed the deck with the baby, the woman drew a hidden dagger from beneath her skirts and plunged it into Nicor’s heartless chest.
The pirate captain’s rich laughter filled the air as he pulled the useless weapon from his body. He glared at the wide-eyed woman. “Ah, biscuit, you are really going to wish you hadn’t done that.”
Pops nodded to his brother, who held a rope at the rail. Cradling the child close to his heart, he took the rope and swung across the space between the two ships. Pops Matthews landed deftly on the deck of The Albatross as the strangled cries of the woman’s tortured death filled the salt-kissed air.
* * *
Off the coast of Port Royal, Jamaica -- May, 1665
With sea legs firmly beneath her, Hope Matthews stood at the stern of The Albatross and watched Port Royal slip beneath the horizon. The ship creaked and swayed as it sliced through the choppy waves. A sigh whispered past her lips as the only real home she’d ever known disappeared from view. Maybe I'll finally be free this time.
Unc’s scratchy voice floated above the din of waves and wind. “So far, nobody’s followin’, but once Nicor finds out ye skedaddled again, he won’t be far behind us.”
Hope glanced over her shoulder at the round, balding man with laughing blue eyes just like his brothers. They weren't related by blood, but that never mattered. The Matthews brothers had been Pops and Unc for as long as she could remember. “I know, Unc. We may be able to hide a few days, a week at best, but he’s been hauling me back my entire life. If we don’t find the amulet, he’ll do it again.”
“That charm is a myth, child. There ain’t no necklace in the world that can destroy something already dead. No matter what my misguided brother told ye.” He joined her at the rail. “Don’t tell me he’s got ye believin’ in fairy tales, too? His hare-brained crusade to find that thing cost ‘em his life. I’ll not be standin’ by while it destroys ye too.”
Ever since her abduction, Pops and Unc had looked after Hope. Nicor’s mistress had tired of motherhood almost as quickly as Nicor tired of his mistress, leaving the two sea salts in charge of the girl. But, Nicor liked keeping ‘his girl’ close, so Hope spent a great deal of her childhood aboard his ships, learning to read maps and charts.
The Matthews brothers took great pride in teaching their headstrong charge how to rig a sail and swing a sword as well as any man. And, they genuinely loved her, despite her cursed existence as the reluctant play toy of their boss, a powerful demon.
Turning away from the rail, Hope crossed the deck in long strides. Tangled strands of salt-crusted, auburn hair whipped across her face, stinging her cheek. She climbed the stairway between the deck and helm. “I’ll take it from here, Mac,” she said, taking the wheel from the helmsman. “Why don’t you go help Dickerson with the rigging?”
Mac bobbed his russet head. “Aye, Cap’n.”
As usual, Unc followed only a few steps behind Hope. He swaggered up the stairs, taking the treads in time with the roll of the ship and quirked a furry eyebrow. “I can tell by the look on yer face, ye got no interest in my arguments. So, rather than rile ye more, I’ll cut to it. Where ye think it’s hid?"
Hope pulled on the wheel, setting their course. “I’ve been studying the map and note Pops left for me, and I think he was on the right track.”
Unc huffed, folding thick arms over his chest. “So, we’re headin’ for Tortuga? Nicor is there meetin’ with Henry Morgan and the Bretheren of the Coast." He shook his head as the laughter left his eyes. "Since we’ll be in his backyard anyway, why don’t ye walk into Morgan’s bar and just announce our arrival?”
Her fingers tightened on the wheel until her knuckles turned white. He had a point, but knowing the truth and accepting it were two different things. Hope kept her eyes on the waves. “I’ve got to find it, Unc, and Tortuga is the only place I haven’t looked yet. At least we'll know once and for all if Poseidon's Tear is real."
She thought about the alternative and a violent shudder coursed through her. "So far, I’ve been able to delay the inevitable, but time is running out. The bastard won’t take no for an answer once I turn seventeen. He’s already made it clear he expects me to take Elsa’s place in his bed.” And I’d rather be dead than lay beneath that undead Blackbirder. Hope’s eyes hardened. She faced her uncle. “So if I have to walk into Satan’s own throne room to find that amulet, I’m damned well gonna do it."
Unc placed a hand over hers. “Ye won’t be alone, lass. I got yer back no matter what.” Concern laced his voice, mirrored by his troubled expression.
Hope nodded. “We’ll just follow Pops advice. He’s who named me Hope, after all.” His words echoed in her memory. When yer at the end of yer rope, lass, tie a knot and hang on.
