Within a Captain's Treasure (24 page)

Alice shook her head. “Marriage is
not
in my future.”

“But here is your chance.” Isabelle offered her a plate of cookies.

“It’s not that simple.” Alice bit into the soft molasses round.

Isabelle gave her a long look. “I bet I can guess the problem.”

Alice chuckled. “I’d be shocked if you could.”

Isabelle leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on her knee. “All women hope for a love match when it comes time to wed. You barely know Emerson. You don’t love him. But he’s a fine man. There’s a good chance for you to come to love one another. When Carlton proposed to me, I was still a child with fanciful ideas about love and marriage. I wasn’t in love with him on our wedding day. But our love grew as we came to know each other. We began to forge a life for ourselves. Then came the children.” Isabelle gave her a serious stare. “You do want children of your own, don’t you? You’re so wonderful with Brighton and Rebecca. You’d make a fine mother.”

Alice set her cup aside. Fear she might have carried Gavin’s child had already been dismissed. “Isabelle.”

“You could fall in love with Emerson as easily as you could fall in love with someone else.”

Alice took her hand. It was the one truth she could share. “I’ve already done that.”

Isabelle blinked with wide eyes. “You’re in love with another man?”

Alice couldn’t deny it.

Isabelle gave a little gasp. “I can see it in your eyes.” Concern etched her face. “Who is he? Why aren’t you with him? Did you leave him in England?”

“I can’t talk about him.” Alice chewed at her lip. “Caring for him the way I do, I couldn’t make promises to another.”

“Of course.” Isabelle tsked, and sat back to drink her tea. “How awful. For you both. Did you leave him with a broken heart, as well?”

Alice envisioned a stack of old, yellowed letters. She picked up her tea to sip away the sudden lump in her throat. “Yes, his heart was truly broken.”

“Fire!” Gavin screamed through the smoke. Chain shot exploded from the port cannons taking down their main mast. The falling sail and rope crippling the men on deck.

The British warship had caught up with the
Scarlet Night
somewhere off the coast of the Province of Carolina. Word had spread about the increase in patrols. The British bastards were making wider sweeps, covering more ocean to protect the growing traffic along the sea’s routes. Traps were set and nets hauled. Rewards had doubled. Hanging pirates was becoming a popular pastime.

Because of that, Gavin made the decision to stay clear of open seas for a while. Scuttling along the shoreline was safer. More places to hide, and even if someone was watching on the beaches, by the time the warning was sounded, the
Night
would be miles away.

Running into the fourth-rate frigate, the
Hampshire
, had been an unpleasant surprise for both parties, but it didn’t take long for them to wage battle. Luck was on Gavin’s side, however. The
Hampshire
was fighting into the glare of the setting sun. But his luck was fading fast.

The captain of the
Hampshire
was playing it smart. By keeping a steady bead on the
Scarlet Night’s
starboard side, they were forcing her closer to the shore. This area was known for its shallow sand bars and rocky shoals that would snag a ships keel and stop her dead. As the coastline made a decided crawl toward the east, the
Scarlet Night
was being squeezed.

Gavin lowered his spyglass. “Need to take out their forward mast before we lose the sun. If we wait till they come into range, we’ll be swallowing their port cannons.”

Simons alerted his attention to the standing boulders off the bow. “Hull busters ahead.”

“They mean to wreck us,” Quinn growled.

“Ain’t no channel leeward,” Simons reported. “We turn hard to miss the rock, we cross their path. Those foregunners got us dead to rights. Either way, we’re done.”

“We’re not done yet.” Gavin shouted to the rear gunners to fire at will. Over the roar of the blast, he commanded Simons to turn to port.

“Capt’n, there ain’t no channel. At this speed—”

“Turn! And when I give the signal, turn back full to starboard.” No time to waste passing the order up ship. Gavin took off running. “Drop the mainsail.” That would slow them down some. There was one shot. He knew only one man who could make it.

“Robbins,” he bellowed above the fray.

The ship began to head straight for the reef. “Capt’n, the rocks!” Robbins pointed.

“Aye, fire on them.”

Robbins’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

Gavin slapped his shoulder. “Billiards, Robbins. Let’s play billiards.”

Robbins shot an anxious glance to the rocks and back to the
Hampshire
. “Can’t work.”

“Aye it can. You’re putting it in the right back pocket. Take down the forward mast.”

“Ye want me te cushion off the rocks?” His eyes were wide with disbelief. “Capt’n, no.”

The rocks were getting closer. They were running out of time. “I’ve seen ye play, lad. Ye beat every bastard in Port Royal.” Behind them, the
Hampshire’
s forward guns began to fire. “Aim for the biggest stone and make the damn shot.”

Robbins checked his position. Angled his gun. Checked his position again. Adjusted his aim. Holding the slow match over the touchhole.

“Now!” Gavin covered his ears and turned away from the blast.

Robbins’s cannon exploded hurling the shot to bounce back off the rocks. Through the smoke and gunfire, Gavin watched as the mast of the
Hampshire
jerked with the blow. Son of a bitch, Robbins had done it. The six-pound ball hit its mark. But the force of the shot wasn’t powerful enough after angling the ricochet to shatter the mast.

They were dead men. The British were upon them. They were out of options. Did they take their chances and crash the
Scarlet Night
into the shoal or let the
Hampshire
blow her out of the water?

There was only one way for a proper pirate to die. Lord help them all, they’d go down swinging. Gavin shouted, “Simons, hard to starboard. Raise the mainsail. Starboard gunners, prepare to fire.”

Over his command, a sharp
crack
reverberated across the water. Gavin raised his gaze to watch as the
Hampshire’s
leading mast snapped under the weight of canvas, rope, and wind to crash forward obliterating the crew in the bow.

Through a final blast of cannon fire, the
Scarlet Night
dodged the rocks and left the
Hampshire
floundering in a cloud of red smoke as the sun dropped behind the bluffs. Men slapped Robbins on the back and cheered. They called him “Ricochet” Robbins. Rum flowed free that night.

Their party was short-lived, however. Less than two days later, the British were at it again. Only this time, a heavy bank of fog kept them at bay throughout the day. They’d caught a glimpse between breaks in the haze and could hear them getting closer.

Gavin passed an order from man to man to man. The sails were lowered. The
Scarlet Night
slowed to a crawl and silence was the command. Not a word. Not a whisper. All lanterns doused.

Not long after dark. Robbins found Gavin in the gloom. “Capt’n,” he whispered. “Bump’s hurt.”

Gavin followed him as he groped his way along. Even below deck, they kept their voices quiet. “What happened?”

“Fell half down the ladder way. Let out a yelp like a kicked cat when he hit. Arm looks broke te me.”

Gavin’s gut twisted. “Where is he?”

Robbins hitched his chin. “Yer cabin.”

“I’ll go. Fetch the surgeon. Bring him to Tupper’s old space. No windows. Least there we can light a lantern and see what we’re doing.”

Moving quickly through the utter darkness, Gavin stopped inside his doorway. Alone, hurt, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. The boy must be terrified. He imagined the layout of the room in his mind and crossed to the bed. Bump wasn’t there. Damn it. It wasn’t as if he could call out to him and have him answer. Where else would he be?

Gavin checked his chair. Under the desk. No luck. He feared in his stumbling he’d fall over the lad and injure him more. He stopped mid room. Straining his eyes and his ears, he heard it. The tiniest of whimpers.

Bump had found his way into a narrow space behind the bed. There was no way Gavin could squeeze in to reach him. He gave the wall three hits with the heel of his hand. Bump shifted, but he didn’t come out. If Gavin grabbed for him…
Wait
. He knew how to get him out. Where the hell was it? Gavin prayed it was still where he’d last seen it.

Tupper’s hat. With its foolish feather, he could tickle the boy’s arm and maybe he’d come out. After a few sweeps with the hat, the boy emerged. Gavin slipped a gentle hand around the boy’s waist and lifted him. Bump buried his face in the hat.

But when they reached the space where Tupper had slept, Bump wrestled out of Gavin’s hold. Robbins and the surgeon pushed into the room. Raising the wick on the lantern they carried, Bumped blinked against the sudden onslaught of the light. He looked about the room in a panic, then back at Gavin.

The look of confusion was replaced with one of disbelief. Did Bump think Tupper had returned in the mist? Tears washed his wide brown eyes. Seeing Robbins and the doctor behind Gavin, Bump screwed his eyes tight and dropped to sit on Tupper’s cot.

Gavin knelt to comfort him, and Bump turned away. He flinched when Gavin tried to touch him. Without realizing it, he had betrayed the boy. Using the hat to coax him out, he’d inadvertently raised the boy’s hope that Tupper had returned. The hurt on Bump’s face broke Gavin’s heart. Bump’s pain reached past the broken bone in his arm and Gavin had made it worse. He was an idiot. How could he find a way to explain?

As the surgeon worked on Bump’s arm, the boy never made another noise. He twisted his face in agony as the bones were set back to rights, but remained silent. Splints of wood and a wrapping of bandage held the arm in place. After rigging a sling of sorts, the surgeon left.

Gavin tried once more to get Bump to look at him. Find some way to say he was sorry, but the boy wouldn’t have it. Turning to Robbins, Gavin ran a hand over the ache between his eyes. “Stay with him. If he needs anything, come to me at once.”

When the sun rose and burned off the last of the night’s mist, the British ship was nowhere to be seen. Sails were set. Gavin gave the helmsman the order to set course at full sail.

MacTavish came to stand with Gavin in the bow. Checking the sky, he huffed. “We be heading north?”

Gavin stood with his arms crossed over his chest. If he thought he could walk away from this conversation, he would. He set his jaw. “None ever accused you of being stupid.”

“Ney, but ye are.” MacTavish pushed into his line of sight. “What ye thinkin’ man?” He jabbed a finger toward the open sea. “The king’s bastards are over the next crest sippin’ tea, just waitin’ on yer arse.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do ye?” MacTavish shook his big oxen head. “Without Bellamy and Jessup te keep things in check, ye been makin’ some decisions of late we ain’t gonna survive.” He jerked his chin toward the bowsprit setting the braids in his beard swinging. “They have the nooses tied. One fer every man and
boy
on this here ship. How many times ye plannin’ to dodge ’em?”

Gavin turned away and headed aft. “They haven’t caught us yet.”

MacTavish pushed in front of him again, blocking his exit. “How many lives ye think we got? Ye pushin’ yer luck. We should be runnin’ due east. Gettin’ back te what we know. ”

Gavin refused to back down or stand for any more insolence. He stared into MacTavish’s florid face as he rested one hand on his pistol. “Who’s the captain of this ship?”

MacTavish watched Gavin’s hand before raising his gaze back to Gavin’s eye. “Ye are, Lord help us.”

“Then I suggest you mind your own business.” Gavin shoved past him.

“My neck
is
my business.”

Gavin kept walking. “Soon as we make the next port, you can take your neck and your precious red smoke and leave my ship.”

“She won’t have ye. Not after the way ye treated the lass.”

Gavin spun on him. The muscle in his jaw threatening to turn his back teeth to dust. “Shut your mouth.”

“Ye were right te send her away. Let her live her life. Safe. She don’t belong on this tub. She’s better than all of us lowlife bastards. Change course ’fore ye get us all killed chasin’ somethin’ ye got no right te have.”

Gavin pulled his pistol, cocked the hammer, and pointed it into the face of Malcolm MacTavish. “Shut. Your. Bloody. Mouth.”

MacTavish didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and held his arms wide. “Don’t be threatenin’ me. Shoot me if yer gonna shoot me. But ye ain’t gonna. ’Cause ye don’t shoot a man fer talkin’ the truth.” MacTavish turned and walked away.

Shoving the pistol back into his baldric, Gavin glared at the man’s back. Last night’s scene with Bump in Tupper’s quarters had confirmed his decision. He wanted her back. Bump needed her. He needed her. But was it worth watching the crew hanged? Watching the boy hanged?

There was a price to pay for living this life. Gavin had already paid that price with his heart—twice. He’d lost Beth. He’d rejected Alice. Cruelly cast her aside as if she meant nothing to him. Washed away any feelings there might have been. There was no guarantee after swimming through shark-infested waters to reach her that she would ever forgive him.

Moving back to the quarterdeck, Gavin changed his earlier command. “Set a new course. We’re heading east.”

The air was sultry and oppressive. Heat and humidity built throughout the afternoon. Rebecca and Brighton had been cranky and argumentative all day. By the time Alice delivered them back to their nurse for baths and their evening meal, she wanted nothing more to do with this day.

Emerson Blake only added to the day’s oppressiveness. The flowers had stopped arriving. Thank goodness. But the man was everywhere. She and the children had seen him and Carlton in the stables this morning. Running errands in town later—whom should they meet? While reading to the children on the wide front porch, he’d stopped and shared their lemonade. The man would be the epitome of infuriating if he wasn’t so damned charming. Respected. And so well liked that to complain about his attention was comparable to showing the king your bare arse.