Angelina's Secret

by Diane Merill Wigginton

  “Way hay and up you go.”

  “I can stay here all day long.”

  “Way hay and up you go.”

  “I can kiss the girls from way up here.”

  “Way hay and up you go.”

  “They come to me when I touch the stars.”

  “Way hay and up you go.”

  “Proceed with caution, boys, keep a sharp eye out,” the captain called.

  Uncle Jamie had been below deck playing cards with some of the men to pass the time and had wandered around deck for fresh air.

  “What seems to be the matter?” Jamie asked, standing close to me while putting a protective arm around my shoulder.

  “I’m not quite sure, but it seems there is an English ship flying a distress flag. The captain wants to check it out.”

  “Well, this could be a bit of excitement. One can only play so many hands of cards before the old backside gets stiff,” he said as he put his hands to his lower back and stretched some to relieve his stiffness.

  As we came about, the ship was off to our port side. We could see a dozen men standing at the rail waving to us. They were dressed in full English military uniforms and greeted us with cheers.

  When we were a mere fifteen feet apart, Captain Kincaid called out to them, “What seems to be the problem, boys, and how can we be of service today?”

  The man from the other ship called back, gesturing to the other crewmen, “Our captain, first mate, and most of the crew have fallen ill. All we have left is what you see. Could we get some provisions from you?” the man asked sincerely.

  “We can spare a barrel of water, and some oats, but I don’t want your sickness to spread to my crew,” the captain stated firmly.

  “We would be grateful for anything you could spare, sir,” the other man said with a little too much emphasis on the word spare. Suddenly, the whole ship came alive with men and grappling hooks.

  The men who had been dressed in military uniforms reached into their pockets pulling out scarves tying them around their faces. The rest of the crew came out from hiding, and with ear splitting yells, they boarded our ship with firearms and swords.

  Before our captain and crew could fully react to defend themselves, the ship had been boarded and taken over by the band of pirates.

  While everyone was distracted, Jamie had pushed me behind him and was backing up toward a long boat turned over on deck. He pushed me down and said, “Don’t come out for anything.” Then he stepped away.

  A scream caught in my throat as panic and fear combined to keep me frozen. I couldn’t breathe, and my brain went numb. I could barely comprehend what was happening.

  I wanted to run after Uncle Jamie and pull him under the boat with me. Then out of the chaos and noise, there came a hush on the deck. I wanted to sneak a look, but sheer panic kept me frozen to the spot.

  “We are privateers, and we are seizing the contents of this ship. If you cooperate, no one will be hurt. We don’t wish to make anyone’s wife a widow today, so follow orders, and everyone will make it out alive,” the man said in perfect English with a hint of a foreign accent.

  “Is everyone accounted for? We wouldn’t want anyone to miss out on all the fun now, would we, boys?” The man asked boldly as he walked about my family’s ship.

  “Come on now, speak up. You there, in the fancy clothes with your fancy boots, step forward,” he ordered. “What is your name?” the leader said, pointing to Uncle Jamie.

  “James Stewart, my good man, what can I do for you today?” Jamie said, stepping forward, trying to sound jovial and upbeat for someone whose ship had just been boarded by pirates.

  “Are there any others who might be hiding about this ship? Be quick about it, man, or it will cost you your life,” he taunted with an undertone of a threat lacing his words. The sound of his boots hitting the boards of the deck grated on my raw nerves as he passed several times by the overturned boat I was hiding under. My pulse quickened even more, and I was like a trapped rabbit with nowhere to run.

  As Jamie stammered for an answer, the boat I was hiding under was suddenly gone. I looked up to see a hulk of a man lifting the small craft with one hand and reaching down to take hold of my arm with the other. He yanked me upright and to my feet as I screamed in surprise.

  Dropping the boat and pulling me against him, he pinned my one arm behind my back. I feared my legs would give out as I started to see stars. Everything moved in slow motion, including my brain.

  Standing, I took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart and clear my head. I mustered the will to be strong and face this beast dressed as a man. Turning my face upward, I squared my shoulders and willed myself not to flinch or look away.

  With my best defiant stare, I put my free hand against his chest and gave a little rebellious shove against his chest. “Good, sir, if you would please unhand me, I would greatly appreciate it,” I said as my voice shook only slightly, trying not to give away my total disdain for him.

  Releasing my trapped arm and stepping back a bit, he gave me a polite bow and said in a mocking voice, “Forgive me, my lady, if I did offend.”

  He wore well-made black boots that hugged his calves and came just above his knees. His breaches were tan in color and formed around his muscular thighs. His crisp white shirt, which hung open at the neck, was belted at his waist.

  My eyes made their way with effort to his bearded face, for he was taller than most. Our eyes connected, and I felt a slight moment of trepidation as the hair on the nape of my neck stood on end.

  I was staring into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. They were the color of sapphires as they burned a hole straight through me.

  His hair was completely covered by a red scarf, but I could tell it was black and very long, and he wore another scarf across his face.

  We stood there for a moment assessing each other without a word. It was as if time had momentarily stopped.

  “Throw him overboard,” he ordered, pointing his finger at Jamie while still holding my gaze.

  “No. Stop! I beg you don’t hurt him,” I screamed as panic rose in my throat.

  “So you wish to save your lover,” the man scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

  I suddenly began to laugh. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. Maybe it was stress getting the better of me. Maybe my circumstance was too bizarre.

  I was trapped on a ship in the middle of the ocean by a man who had held me so tightly I could smell the soap he used to bathe with that day. The thought of a pirate taking a bath before raiding a ship was, well, funny to me.

  Then he subtly raised an eyebrow as he grabbed me again and gave me a little shake. Maybe he thought I had suddenly lost my faculties and gone stark raving mad.

  Copper-colored hair spilled loose from its constraint and tumbled down my shoulders and back as I suddenly came to my senses. After all, I was surrounded by pirates.

  Uncle Jamie stepped forward. “Stop that and unhand her,” he demanded, trying to pull me free from the pirate, for which he was rewarded with a kick to the back of the knees dropping him down on all fours. Then another pirate knocked him out with a punch to the face.

  I screamed, pulling my arm from his grasp and ran toward Uncle Jamie. Two more pirates impeded my progress. With angry tears in my eyes, I turned back to the leader. My blood boiling now, I did not care what happened to me, but I would protect my family at all cost.

  “He is my uncle, and this is our family’s ship. It carries nothing more exciting than some textiles we make in our factory,” I screamed. My anger barely contained as I spat the words at him, pulling my arms free from the two men and making my way back to where he stood.

  “I hardly think you will get rich off of the haul you take from us today, but you are welcome to it,” I finished saying, as I now stood toe to toe with him, defiance reflected in my eyes.

  Reaching out, he grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back as he pulled me up against his taut body.

  “You sp
eak boldly, my lady, and yet I can feel your heart racing,” he stated while holding tightly to my wrist, wrenching it even higher than before.

  “I have never come face-to-face with a real pirate before. So you will forgive me if I don’t know how to react,” I said sarcastically.

  “A privateer!” he corrected while still staring uncomfortably into my eyes.

  “Pirate or privateer, whatever name you give yourself, you are still cut from the same cloth. The only difference between the two careers is one has a license to pillage, plunder, and murder and the other one doesn’t,” I stated, all the while staring straight into his deep blue eyes, trying to gauge how my words had been received.

  First his eyes seemed to cloud up, and I was sure a storm was coming my way, but I didn’t care. Tossing my head back in defiance, I dared him to do his worst, and then he startled me when suddenly he turned loose my arm and began to laugh.

  I stood in complete shock, not quite sure what had just happened. I fully expected to be murdered right there on the deck of the family ship.

  “Get these men secured below deck,” he barked at his crew.

  Jumping into action, they obeyed, his crew moved the prisoners in one direction like sheep to the slaughter.

  A rough hand took hold of my arm as I turned to see what was happening. I was being pulled in the opposite direction of everyone else. A question formed on my lips but was silenced by a muscular arm grabbing me by the waist like a vise. I struggled to free myself while looking over the pirate’s shoulder for Uncle Jamie who was being carried along by the crew of the Lady Clarisse.

  Turning in time to see the pirate captain take hold of a rope with his other hand and leaping from the deck of the ship, I screamed and scrambled to take hold of something by wrapping my arms tightly about his neck, squeezing my eyes closed.

  Mere seconds later, he landed on the deck of the pirate ship with a loud thud and yet I kept my grip tight and my eyes shut. He shifted my weight, and I could feel his suppressed amusement by the reverberation through his stone-hard chest. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t swim, and I was genuinely scared.

  He continued to carry me across the deck, down a few steps, and through a doorway. He kicked the door shut with his booted foot, and it slammed with a resounding bang.

  Depositing me unceremoniously on the bed, he turned and walked across the room to retrieve two glasses and a carafe. Setting them down on the large table, he removed his hat and scarves, tossing them down on the table.

  Coming to my senses, I scrambled from the large bed, but wasn’t sure how I would escape this viper’s nest.

  Looking down, I noticed that my top buttons had come undone in my attempts to free myself, and I was providing him a wonderful view of my overflowing assets.

  I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, and yet I refused to let him see the panic threatening to overtake me. I willed my hands not to shake as I buttoned my gown and smoothed my skirts. Then, with great effort, I swept back the stray hairs that had tumbled into my face. With one last deep breath, I straightened my spine, squared my shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes.

  “Well, that was terribly fun, can we do it again?” I said with great sarcasm, for which he rewarded me with another rich, deep laugh.

  Tipping the chair back on two legs, he put his boots on the table. “Drink?” he offered, holding a cup up to me from his seated position at the table.

  “Yes, thank you, I’ve had a bloody dreadful day.” Attempting to sound calm, while moving as far away from his bed as possible, I took the cup and drank long and deep. Immediately, realizing my mistake when the heat rose to my cheeks, I began to gasp for air as the contents burned my throat.

  “What the bloody hell did you give me? Poison?” I said through my gasps for air, followed by a fit of coughing.

  “That’s some of the best whisky that can be had, straight from the American colonies,” he said with just a hint of amusement in his voice. “We commandeered it from an Irish ship just yesterday.”

  “Water,” was all I could manage between my clenched teeth as I fixed him with a murderous stare.

  “Of course, where are my manners?” Going to the cupboard, he retrieved a different carafe and poured the water in a glass and brought it to me.

  Feeling suspicious of his motives, I first smelled the contents of the glass. Finding it to be water, I drank as if I had been lost in the desert for a week.

  “So what shall I call you, mademoiselle?” He feigned genteel politeness as he helped me into a chair across the table.

  “Lady Angelina Marguerite Amelia Stewart,” I stated boldly, lifting my chin just a bit for emphasis, all the while looking directly at him.

  “My, that is a mouthful. I think I will address you as Lady Stewart just to show you my manners.”

  “And what do you like to be called?” I asked, attempting to ascertain with whom I was dealing. I maintained eye contact to hide the fact that my legs were shaking so uncontrollably that my knees were knocking together.

  “You, madam, may address me as Captain or Sir,” he answered back, all the while looking directly back at me. “You stare, madam, do you like what you see? Or perhaps you simply find me handsome?” he asked with bold directness.

  “No! Ah . . . heavens, no,” I stammered unsure what game he was playing now.

  Taking a better look at him now, I decided to change tactics. “What I meant to say is, I don’t know. Your hair, it is long. You wear it wildly tossed about, and please excuse my frankness, but what is with the braids?” I stated, picking him apart piece by piece deciding that he was obviously too full of himself. “And this beard, it is long and wild as well. It hides your features. So I dare say I could not tell you if I find you handsome or not. You could be physically appealing to a certain type of woman, but you hide behind anonymity with your beard and hair.” I gestured with my hand, tilting my head from one side to the other, trying to see beyond the scruff of all that hair. “As for my staring at you, good sir, I do apologize for the rudeness, but I am having difficulty reconciling your demeanor with your speech. You are a pirate who speaks like a gentleman,” I said in a tone that bordered on insolence.

  “Privateer!” he corrected, irritation building in his tone.

  “Yes, yes, so you keep saying. My uncle and the other men, they won’t be harmed then? Since a pirate and a privateer, according to you have entirely different sets, of standards,” I finished with a biting tone of cynicism.

  “We aren’t barbarians! Your men will be well taken care of,” he said as he stood and walked to the large glass window that stood open to the ocean breeze. “You puzzle me, madam.”

  “Oh? How so, if I may be so bold in my asking?” I countered.

  “You swear like a sailor and dress like a lowly maid, but you speak like a high born. Tell me what exactly are they teaching young ladies in finishing school these days?” His words were meant as a barb to my character.

  His reproach stung, and again, I could feel the color climbing to my face and decided to change the subject.

  “So why did you bring me here, and for what purpose, dare I ask?” I cautiously inquired as I also walked to the window to gaze at the ocean below. I decided to attempt to make some kind of connection between us in the hope that I could save my family’s ship and crew.

  “I like your boldness and feel I might enjoy your company for a time. Perhaps we could speak as equals,” he commented while staring out to sea. “You don’t cower and shrink from me. I find that most refreshing,” he concluded, turning toward me to study my face.

  I found his stare penetrating like a thunderstorm with lightning. The hair on my neck stood on end as he took a step closer to me.

  A knock on the door interrupted him, and he turned to address the intruder.

  “Enter and state your business,” the captain called out.

  “Sir, Cook asks if there will be one or two for dinner, and if you would like it brought up soon?” the young crewm
an asked while looking at the captain directly.

  “Tell Cook that he may ready supper for two and leave it at the door. We will dine at the usual time. Thank you, boy. That will be all.”

  “Yes, sir.” And with that, the cabin boy walked out and shut the door.

  Walking over to a tall cabinet in the corner of the room, he opened it and rummaged through, looking for something in particular. Removing a dress from the cabinet, he shut the door, depositing a lovely, navy blue, satin gown on the bed, then turned and fixed me with a look that sent a shiver up my spine.

  “If you would indulge me, my lady, I think you will find this garment most suitable. Will you require my assistance to put it on?” he asked, fixing me with a rakish smile. “I am very good with buttons and hooks,” he informed me.

  A blush crept up my chest once again, and I turned toward the window to find my composure. “No, thank you. I believe I can manage,” I said over my shoulder, praying all the while that he would leave me to change in peace and not stay to watch.

  “As you wish, mademoiselle.” And with that, I heard the door close quietly behind me and then silence.

  Sweet precious silence, I thought to myself, breathing in a deep cleansing breath of the ocean air.

  Taking notice of the darkened skies, I breathed deeply again. It smelled like a storm was coming. I guess the man with the bad leg was right.

  An hour later, there came a knock on the door, then a pause.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  The door opened cautiously, and the young man from earlier entered. He hung several lit lanterns, then set about lighting the sconces that hung around the cabin and the candles on the table.

  The room, taking on an intimate atmosphere of glowing candle light, did not help quiet my apprehensions and misgivings about eating alone with a pirate.

  My frayed nerves were raw as I stood at the window in my borrowed gown, watching the last bit of light fade from the dusky sky.

  The young man exited the room without a word and, as if on cue, the captain entered.

  He had changed into formal evening attire. His jacket was green and brown brocade with gold threading throughout. He wore a freshly laundered white shirt tucked into his dark brown trousers. The boots were of fine Italian leather, black on the bottom with a cuff of brown along the top. He was the picture of French nobility except for the long beard and hair. He had taken the braids out of his hair, pulling it back he had plaited it, which only added to his rakishly masculine good looks.