The Noble Pirates (18 page)

But before I went back into my boy’s clothes, I wanted to put Meg and all those other floozies in their places. I may not have had their impressive racks, but I had good genes and the benefits of twenty-first century health and beauty care. I slipped into the aquamarine gown and laced myself up as best I could without assistance. It was rumpled and beginning to smell, but it would have to do. I gazed at my reflection in a metal plate – mirrors were a luxury in the eighteenth century, and only the very rich had them – and was relieved to see that I didn’t look as bad as I had feared. I still had the bruise on my cheek, and my eyebrows were unruly, but my skin, oddly enough, had never looked so… luminescent. My eyes were bright, my cheeks and lips had a natural rosiness to them, and I looked… good. How so very odd.

I walked out of my room and noticed that Howel’s door was open and his room empty, so I went down the stairs where some patrons were dining. I spotted Howel sitting with Meg in a corner, and she was leaning into him, her thick hair over one shoulder. He sat naturally, that ever-present good nature in his eyes, and I wondered if he had ever had an awkward social moment in his life. He’d bathed and shaved, and even though his face was a bit thinner than when I first met him, I was struck by how well he cleaned up.

As I approached, they both turned to look at me. I suddenly realized that neither one of them recognized me; Howel stared like a man appreciating an attractive woman he’d never seen before, and Meg stared like a woman suspiciously eyeing her competition. I stopped at their table and grinned. “Good morning,” I said.

Howel’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open. A delicious warmth crept through me, flushing my cheeks. He said, “Sabrina?” I must have been grinning like an idiot at this point, but I couldn’t stop. He muttered, “Holy Jesus.”

Meg looked from me to him, confused and becoming increasingly angry. “Who’s Sabrina?” Then, the realization of who I was finally dawning on her, she stood and said, “I don’t know what you two are about, but it’s sick!” She stormed off, leaving us to gaze at each other.

Howel rose and gestured to the chair Meg had been sitting in. “Will you have some tea?” We sat and as he poured me some tea, I gazed at him from under my eyelashes. A smile pulled at his lips as he said, “You were a pretty lad, but you’re a beauty of a woman!” I felt the heat flood my face and the air leave my lungs. The way he said it, though – like a man admiring a piece of art, not like one overcome by desire. It bothered me.

He tilted his head to the side, considering me. “What do you plan to do now, lass?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have nowhere to go. I suppose I could go back to Nassau, try and find a way back to 2011, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it would be in vain. There’s no reasonable way for me to ever get back.” I didn’t say that my plans were, without a doubt, to follow him to the ends of the earth. I added, “There’s also the minor issue of Jack Blaine. He knows who I am, and has threatened to hunt me down when the time came.”

I said this casually, as if addressing the weather, and Howel startled. “Jack Blaine? He knows you’re a woman?”

“Yeah. I was trying to sneak some food into the hold for you, and I was caught. Taylor and Blaine ripped off my shirt, and, well…” I shrugged sheepishly. “It was kind of apparent that I was a woman. When Blaine found out my name was Sabrina, he made the connection. He kinda bullied me a bit, trying to find out what I knew, but I didn’t tell him a thing.”

Howel became very still, and the expression on his face was one I had never seen before, not on him. It was deadly. He said slowly, “Did they put their hands on you?”

I was thrilled by his reaction. “No. Honestly, they didn’t.”

Howel studied my face. He touched my chin and tilted my head toward him, his expression dark. “What happened to your face, then?”

“Oh, Taylor hit me, but that was before he knew… He still thought I was a boy then,” I answered, the words tumbling hurriedly from my lips, my heart racing. I didn’t want his fingers to leave my skin.

All good things must come to an end. He mumbled, “Son of a bitch,” and moved his hand away. Then he said, “Blaine heard the
Igbo
woman say Sabrina the Charmed Woman knew our fates, and then he discovered that Will, the pirate lad, was a woman named Sabrina.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“He’ll hunt you down, he said? Tell me then, Sabrina the Charmed Woman, what becomes of Jack Blaine?”

“He becomes a pirate,” I replied. “A cruel, sadistic one who loves to torture his victims. He will be captured and hanged in 1720.” I thought for a second. “Oh, and he kills Ned Taylor.”

“Ned Taylor? Why would he do that? I thought he and Ned were fellows,” he growled.

I leaned forward. “Because Ned Taylor becomes a pirate hunter. The book didn’t elaborate, but I would guess that Taylor will be on the Slave Coast trying to hunt down Blaine himself. He’ll be defeated and killed.”

Howel’s blue eyes were piercing. “Blaine hasn’t decided to go on the account yet, so he hasn’t discovered how valuable you are to him. Once he realizes what path his life will take, he will come looking for you.”

He was right. We stared at each other, letting it all sink in. Finally Howel said, “Go back, Sabrina. Go back to your time.”

I shook my head. “I told you, I don’t know how! It’s impossible!”

Howel leaned back in his chair. “Blaine will come for you, lass, mark my word.”

I replied, “I know he will.”

Howel studied his hands, the welts around his wrists. After a moment, he said, “I’d tell you to stay with me, that I’d protect you, but I’ve got to find employment. I haven’t a farthing to my name.”

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I can still stay with you. I’ve been masquerading as a boy for a while now. I’m quite good at it.”

Howel frowned. “How then? Will you try to find employ with me?”

“Yeah. Aren’t ships always looking for boys to do menial jobs?” I asked.

“Oh, noooooo,” Howel said with a laugh. “I’ll not have you following me onto slave-ships, a pretty little lad who draws troubles like flies ‘round a sugar bowl.”

“I’ll follow you anyway,” I said stubbornly.

Howel sighed. “If you haven’t anywhere to go, and nobody to help you, I suppose it’ll have to be that way.” He smiled. “I promised the pirate England, after all.”

I didn’t like the way he said it, as though I were a burden. I frowned and looked down. “I can be of help to you, too, you know. I’ve told you your future, after all.”

He snorted. “Aye, and little good it does me, if I can’t change it after all.”

I was quiet for a moment, then said, “You can try.”

He smiled. “Aye. And you, Sabrina? What does your future hold?”

I tried to smile. “I have no idea, Howel. No idea.”

I sat on a stoop, watching as Howel Davis made his way through the crowded street toward me. It was a hot day, dusty and bright, and the road smelled of horse manure and smoke. My heart always skipped a beat when he approached me, those gorgeous eyes scanning the crowd for me from under his battered cocked hat. Today, however, he looked particularly downcast, a deep crease between his brows.

I knew he had been unsuccessful, yet again.

“How did it go?” I asked with a hopeful smile.

He rubbed the sweat from the side of his face with his shoulder and shook his head. “They’ll not sign me on, not with this suspicion of piracy hanging about me neck.”

“But you were cleared of those charges!” I cried. “They have no proof–”

“Sabrina, a notorious pirate
gave
me a prize,” he said. “How do they make sense of that? Particularly when me shipmates claim I was in league with England?” He inhaled sharply. “Nay, I’ve been outlawed.”

I felt the fury rise up within me. What else was a poor sailor to do, when his very livelihood was at stake? Howel Davis had not even been officially charged with piracy, but he couldn’t get a job as a lowly deck hand on a miserable slave-ship. How did the monarchy – or whoever the hell was in charge around here – expect men
not
to turn to piracy as a means to an end, especially when life as a pirate was so much better?

I looked at him anxiously, and I could tell his thoughts were similar to mine. I said, “There must be someone who will hire you. We have to keep looking.”

“I can’t expect any employment here, in Barbados,” he replied, squinting into the sun. “I’ll have to go to Nassau, the only place for a pardoned brigand to find honest work.”

I looked up. “You’re going to Nassau?”

“I’ve no choice,” he said. Then he smiled wanly. “Works out well, don’t it? You can mayhaps find a way back home.”

I considered. Nassau was where Howel would become a pirate, so I felt the need to talk him out of it. But for me, Nassau was quite convenient, actually. I could visit Ruth, see if maybe she’d had any more visions. I could visit Nan and the girls. Weird – I’d grown somewhat attached to the place, and was relieved to be going back. Of course, the main reason Nassau had grown on me was Edward England, and he would not be there.

But I would have Howel Davis. I would be fine so long as I was with him.

What in God’s name had gotten into me?

We found a merchantman bound for Nassau, and, with the little money Howel had left with Meg for safekeeping, we journeyed as passengers back to New Providence. Howel brooded much of the time, staring out across the sea and whittling pieces of wood with his knife. I, in turn, watched Howel, wishing I could lift the burden from his shoulders. I knew how great the temptation to go on the account must have been for him, and I often wondered what kept him from just giving in. Was he so righteous, so conscientious? Or did my prophecy have anything to do with it, that maybe he wanted to prove fate wrong?

It was hard to know, since he didn’t confide in me. Oh, he was his warm, friendly self with me, jesting and teasing as usual. But he wasn’t letting me in. And it wasn’t for my lack of trying. I tried and tried to bring back that sweet, playful sailor I had first met aboard the
Cadogan
, but to no avail. I would see the wall come down, the eyes harden. Life had done a number on him, and he wasn’t going to forget it.

It did not pay to be good in this world of kings and slaves, of dog-eat-dog and an eye for an eye.

On the eve of our arrival in Nassau’s harbor, I could not stand it any longer. I approached Howel and, with my arms crossed on my chest, said, “Why aren’t you telling me what you’re thinking? Why don’t you
talk
to me?”

Howel had been sitting on the deck under the stars, his knees drawn up and his arms slung over them, staring at nothing, a frown on his face. He looked at me in surprise. “How now?” He grinned slightly, his teeth glistening in the moonlight. “What would you have me tell you?”

I sighed, flopping down next to him. “What you’re thinking. Why you look so sad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you really need me to tell you that?”

“No,” I replied, sounding like a spoiled child used to getting her way. “But you could share your thoughts, tell me what you want, how you feel about what I’ve told you regarding your future.”

I looked straight ahead, but I could feel him next to me, gazing at my profile. After a moment he asked, “Why would you want me to do that? Haven’t you enough to worry about without me worries heaped on you as well?”

I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks. I still didn’t look at him. “But aren’t we friends? Friends support each other.”

“A man and a woman, friends? Mayhaps in 2011 such things are possible, but in 1718, if a man and a woman reveal such confidences, they enter the realm of lovers.”

I felt as though I’d been zapped. Was it just my overactive imagination, or did his voice get lower, huskier as he said the word
lovers
? Get a grip, Sabrina. You’re a married woman. It took me a second, but I finally said, “No, it’s not so different in 2011. We try and tell ourselves that it’s different, that because men and women are equals, close friendships – without the romance – are possible.”

“Ah,” he said softly. “Then ‘twould be a bad idea, you and me getting too close.”

I still couldn’t look at him. My nerves strummed like guitar strings. I wanted to ask, ‘Why would it be a bad idea? Because I’m married, or because you aren’t attracted to me?’ I finally stole a glance at him, finding that he watched me with interest, the hint of a smile on his mouth. Damn him! He was accustomed to women wanting him. A playboy in 1718 was just like a playboy in 2011. Human nature didn’t change with time. I was suddenly furious. So he thought I wanted him then, and that he was letting me down gently? I’d show him.

Without thinking, the next words out of my mouth were, “It wouldn’t matter. You’re not my type, anyway.”

Howel laughed. It was a gleeful laugh, like that of a naughty boy. It was wonderful to hear him laugh so, with such abandon. He said, “Aye, I don’t doubt it. A sailor with no berth and no money at all, and a criminal record to boot.”

“It has nothing to do with that,” I said quickly.

“Oh,” he said, his expression puckish. “I see. You’ve a dislike for me personage, is that it? You prefer the stockier, lighter-haired gentlemen. A man more like…. Edward England.”