Beloved Captive (11 page)

Caleb strode to the quarterdeck and found the captain with the spyglass to his eye. “What in the world?” the older man muttered.

“I’ll have a look.” Caleb lifted the glass to his eye. It appeared the vessel was indeed executing a turn that would bring it directly into their path. “Sink them,” Caleb said through clenched jaw.
 

“To the guns,” the captain called. “Let’s show that tub what the men of the
Cormorant
are made of.”

Caleb handed the captain the spyglass and turned to leave. The older man’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Might I suggest, sir,” the captain began, “that you not make yourself as easily seen this time around?” He held his hands out to silence Caleb’s protest. “Meaning no disrespect, but it appears that you may be what the
Hawk’s Remedy
is after.”

“All the more reason not to back down.” Caleb shook his head. “I’ve fought at their sides on two occasions now. To leave these men to battle alone would be unforgivable.”

The captain’s gaze shifted away. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d let my men do what they do best without having to see to the safety of the Benning heir.”

Frustration pounded in every pump of the blood at his temples. Since when had he become some sort of coddled heir to the throne?

“Indeed I see your point,” he finally said when he could trust his voice to speak, “but I am as much Benning as Spencer. What would my grandfather have done?”

A smile spread across the captain’s wrinkled face. “He would have told me to busy myself with the running of this vessel while he fought alongside his men.”

Caleb couldn’t help grinning as he snatched up his pistol. “My grandfather’s sentiments are mine as well.”

Chapter 11

Emilie wiped her tears with the corner of her skirt, then settled the torn fabric around her knees. Outside, chaos reigned, but with every fire of the cannons, she gave thanks.

He had not touched her.

Not in the way he’d promised. Not yet, at least.

Indeed, whatever battle raged overhead, it was a welcome interruption in the vile plans Thomas Hawkins had for the evening. Still, when the cannons boomed, the whole ship shuddered.

Emilie moved to the edge of the bunk and slid down until her bare feet touched the floor. Her skirts were much lighter now that the animal had torn away the ones bearing her father’s gold. Where he put them, she couldn’t say, for she’d closed her eyes and prayed as he laughed.

If only she’d done as Reverend Carter suggested and returned with him. Or, failing that, accepted her father’s offer of allowing Nate to accompany her.

But no, her headstrong manner had been her downfall. A lesson learned.

“Still, you’ve got yourself into quite a fix this time,” she whispered, her voice thin and brittle even in the tiny room. “What happened to that woman who was brave enough to teach a slave to read?” She tested her sea legs and found them still worthy, although a bit shaky. “And what of the woman who single-handedly set in motion a plan to wrest a slave from her life of servitude?” The question emboldened her, as did its answer. “I’m still the same woman,” she said, her voice stronger. “And I shall escape this.”

Emilie squared her shoulders and held her head high. Indeed, she would escape this.

By the light of the small lamp, she adjusted her still-damp clothing, then fashioned her tangled hair into a makeshift braid. The room held little in the way of hiding places, yet she opened every possible chest and looked under everything else to see if her gold might be found.

“Lord,” she whispered as she sank into the lone chair in the cabin, “without that money, the children of Fairweather Key won’t have their school. Please don’t let that happen.”

The door flew open, and Emilie shot out of the chair. Her heart racing, she whirled around to see that the man at the door was not Thomas Hawkins.

“I’m to fetch you,” the red-haired fellow said. “And you’ll need to be bound.”

He spoke the words as if he were discussing the weather.
 

“Have I a choice?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can let me do what the captain’s told me I must, or I’ll do it anyway and likely you’ll be the worse for it.”

“I see. And then what will happen to me?”

The man ducked as he stepped into the room, a silk ribbon in brilliant scarlet dangling from one hand. “I’m to bring you to the quarterdeck and be hasty about it.”

 
She sighed and met him halfway. “Then let’s get this over with.”

In truth, nothing could be worse than remaining in the tiny cabin to await the return of the evil captain. At least out in the open she might find the opportunity to fling herself overboard.
 

That she could not swim mattered less than that she would not remain aboard this vessel.

The man bound her hands, then scooped her up like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder.
This is my path to freedom
, she reminded herself as she was jostled on her way up, around, and under the wooden passageways until salt air heavy with the smell of gunpowder and charred wood assaulted her nose.

Immediately, she sneezed.

The activity around her continued as she was carried to her destination like so much baggage. One more flight of stairs, and she found herself on the highest point of the vessel.
 

To her right, a knot of sailors worked on a small cannon that looked to have misfired. To the left, another group seemed to be faring well with their weapon. Straight ahead at the wheel stood Thomas Hawkins.

He turned, his greatcoat whirling about, then settling like a cloud under the moonlight. “Welcome, pigeon,” he said. “While I regret our evening plans have changed, you’re about to become quite useful to me.” He nodded to the red-haired man, who quickly retreated. “Walk with me,” he said to Emilie. “I’ve a mind to show you off. See, we have visitors.”

She looked where he pointed. A vessel much like the one she’d started this journey aboard came into view. For a moment, she held out hope it might actually be the
Sunday Service
come back to claim her.

“See that ship? She’s the
Cormorant
, ship-of-the-line to the pirate Ian Benning,” Captain Hawkins said. “She’ll either be the life of you or the death of you. I haven’t decided which.”

***

“Hold your fire!” Caleb shouted.

“What is it, sir?” the captain called.

“I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a woman aboard.” Caleb snatched the spyglass from the hand of the lad at his side. “Sure enough. There she is.”

Hawk’s Remedy
drew close enough for Caleb to see the woman without the spyglass. Though he couldn’t be sure, it appeared she was bound at the wrists.

“What do you make of it?” This from Fletcher, who had come above during a lull in the fray. “I wager she’s a ploy.”

Caleb considered the statement. “No, there’s something in her demeanor that tells me otherwise. Call it instinct, but I think she’s a captive.”

“Instinct?” Fletcher chuckled. “From a man who has spent his life behind a desk?”

He spared his mentor a sideways glance. “Am I to find insult in that comment?”

“No, lad. You’re to find great pride in it.” He reached for the spyglass and peered into its depths. “For upon closer inspection, I can see a red cord binding her hands.” Fletcher lowered the spyglass. “Likely done to be seen from a great distance.”

“I would have your advice,” Caleb said.
 

Fletcher shook his head. “You know what to do, Caleb. Don’t ask an old man what you already know.”

Caleb nodded and shrugged out of his shirt, then handed Fletcher his pistol and sword. For this, he’d need nothing in the way of extra clothing to impede his ability to swim back to the
Cormorant
if need be.
 

“You’re going unarmed?” Fletcher quirked a gray brow. “Now perhaps I have a comment.”

Caleb ignored him to continue his preparation for the mission. Shedding his boots would have been the sensible thing for swimming, but he decided it might be the very thing that alerted the captain of the enemy vessel to his dual motives. Instead, he reached to cut a short length of hemp from the sail ropes and bound his hair, which now fell a good length down his back.
 

“The better to keep a clear vision,” he said as he reached into his boot and pulled out the dagger he’d found among his grandfather’s possessions in the cabin. “I’ve spent my adult life behind a desk, but I do remember a thing or two about the pirate life from my childhood.”

The look of pride on Fletcher’s face made Caleb smile.

“So you’ve got a plan.”
 

“I do,” Caleb said. “But in order for it to work, you’ll have to inform the crew.”

Keeping his attention focused on the enemy vessel, Caleb outlined a plan that required good wits, good aim, and good swimming. “What say you?” he asked when he’d finished.

Fletcher gave Caleb a hearty pat on the back. “I’d say you’ve been reading the ship’s log.”

“I have,” he said with a grin. “Perhaps when we’ve survived to fight another day, you can tell me all about the last time this ploy was used.”

Fletcher laughed and ducked his head a moment. When he lifted it, his smile was gone. “In truth, you would not be here had that plan failed. Thus, I send you with my blessings and prayers.”

“Wait.” Caleb shook his head. “You mean the woman rescued from the enemy ship was my mother?”

“It was indeed.” He shrugged. “She met your father when he required her testimony in court to put away the ruffians who sought to hold her for ransom.”

“I never knew.”

“There is yet much for you to learn about your family, but now is not the time.” Fletcher pointed to the oncoming vessel. “Put your mind to the task at hand, lad. There will be time to tell tales of other adventures.”

When
Hawk’s Remedy
passed within a few hundred yards of the
Cormorant
, Caleb was ready. He stood at the rail and pointed to the quarterdeck of the other vessel.

“I have a yen for the girl. Give her to me,” he called.

A bellowing laugh bounced across the distance between them. “What business does a Benning have with such a fair maiden?”

“My business is just that—mine.” Caleb leaned toward Fletcher. “See that the captain gives these men the instruction not to fire until your signal. I’ll not have my back filled with grapeshot from my own men.”

Fletcher nodded and hurried off to find the captain. In his absence, Caleb stood alone on the quarterdeck, just outside the circle of lamplight. Anyone with a weapon and good aim could have shot him if he moved into the circle.

Less than a ship’s length separated them. “What price do you require to release the woman?” Caleb called.
 

“I require nothing less than the Benning in whose name this vessel sails.”

“Payment in gold does not interest you?”

The pirate moved closer to the rail, dragging the woman along with him. While Caleb watched, the fellow scooped her into his arms and held her over the side. “I’ll feed her to the fish before I’ll take your gold. Bring me the Benning. Nothing else will suffice.”

“I suppose I’ve underestimated you,” he said. “A man of commerce such as yourself likely has more treasure than he needs. Of course you’d not be interested in my offer of Benning treasure over Benning flesh.” Caleb paused. “Although I must warn you, I’ve taken a fancy to the woman and would have her at any price.”

“Is that so?” He froze, and Caleb knew he must be thinking over the offer. “Name this treasure of gold. Why would I wish to own it over the vast stores I already possess?”

Caleb forced a laugh and hoped it sounded genuine. “Would you possess gold from the Benning vaults or treasure destined for their coffers? I think not, though you’ve tried more than once to claim it.”

“Indeed, Benning treasure is a fit prize. With it I can live to fight the Benning scourge another day.” He paused. “But I require two bags of gold. One is but an insult considering the high-born nature of the woman.”

“High born?” Caleb shook his head. “Upon what authority do you state this?”

“The woman quotes the Greek philosophers,” he said. “And what manner of transfer would you make for the wench?”

Caleb chose his words carefully. “As the chance for receipt of damaged goods is high, I will board your vessel and inspect her before delivering payment of one full bag of gold.”

Another laugh. “She’s undamaged, much to my disappointment. I’ll not have any further discussions until the Benning presents himself and asks me to take his gold.” A pause. “Two bags,” he added.

“Two?”
 

“Nothing less. And I want the Benning.”

“Then you shall have him.” Caleb stepped into the lamplight. “I am the Benning,” he said, “and I shall bring your gold and fetch the woman. But first I require your men to stand down from their weapons.”

“And should I not?” The pirate took a step backward and dropped the squirming woman onto the deck. For a moment, she disappeared behind the rail.
 

Caleb held his breath until he saw the woman struggle to her feet. “Then not only will you lose the opportunity for Benning gold, but you shall also lose your life, for three of my best marksmen have weapons trained on your person this very moment. Others are ready upon my signal to open fire.” He paused to let his words do their damage. “Thus, you either stand down or lose to a Benning yet again.”

Silence fell between them. Slowly, the captain gave his orders. Caleb watched the ragged crew step away from their cannons.

“Now,” Caleb said, “drop anchor so I might board your vessel and claim the woman.”

“I smell a trick,” the villain responded. “You weigh anchor, and we shall each board our boats to meet in between and make the exchange.”

Exactly as I planned
. Caleb worked hard to keep the satisfaction from his expression. Likely more than one spyglass was trained on him. He began to pace, as much to keep from landing in the sights of some hidden gunman as to convince the pirate of his displeasure over the change.