Beloved Captive (39 page)

“The men said the Benning should only fly under his own flag,” Fletcher said when he’d sidled up beside Caleb. “Anything less would be a lie.”

Interesting. He said nothing, instead continuing the task of heading the craft toward the ship now sinking on the horizon.

The first boats to the scene dropped anchor, and a master was chosen. While Caleb watched, grapeshot began to pepper the would-be rescuers. One by one, the vessels lifted anchor and pulled away.

“Raise the flag,” Caleb shouted.

“What flag?” the secretary called.

Caleb smiled. “The Benning flag,” he said.

Once the banner was hoisted, the cannons adjusted their aim. Then came the man with whom Caleb had sparred mere months ago. Thomas Hawkins stood on the deck, the familiar red ribbon tying a pistol to his neck.
 

Blood rushed to Caleb’s temples. “Mr. Secretary,” he said, “I suggest you go below until this scrap is over.”

When he complied, Caleb shouted the orders that would bring an end to Thomas Hawkins. With care, Fletcher eased Micah’s vessel close to Hawkins’s ship. A cannon fired, and grapeshot peppered the deck, serving only to inflame Caleb’s temper.

When the vessels were close, Caleb made the jump and landed on the tilting deck of the pirate’s vessel. Hawkins charged but lost his battle at the hands of Caleb’s pistol. He fell backward into the water, and Caleb made to go after him. An explosion beneath him caused Caleb to abandon his mission.

“Get these men back to my jail,” he called to Fletcher. “I’m going to look for Emilie.”

He found her in the hold, knee deep in water that swam with galley rats. When he gathered her to him, she fought him off. Only when they reached the sunshine did she realize who held her.

And hold her he did, all the way back to Fairweather Key.

At the docks, he stepped onto dry land with Emilie still in his arms. “I’m taking you to be checked by the doctor,” he said as he turned toward town.

“No.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Please.”

Caleb nodded. “I’ll not leave you out at your cottage, but I will take you to the
Cormorant
. What say you to this, Emilie?”

Emilie closed her eyes and nodded. By the time he settled her onto his bunk, she’d fallen asleep.
 

“Laudanum is my guess,” Fletcher said. “We found enough of the stuff in his safe to kill someone.”

The thought sent ice through Caleb’s veins.

“She’s safe now,” Fletcher said.

Caleb smiled. “Yes,” he said slowly, “she is.”

* * *

When Emilie awoke, the first face she saw was Caleb’s. “You found me,” she said.

“I did.” Caleb gathered her into his arms. “Did he harm you?”

She shook her head, then settled against his chest.
 

“I love you, Emilie,” he said. “And that will not change even if you choose to walk away again.”

She looked up into his eyes. “You cannot love me, Caleb. You don’t know who I am.”

“Then tell me,” he said, “though I warn you it will not matter.”

“My mother,” she said as she averted her gaze, “was my father’s concubine.” She paused to risk a glance in his direction. “A slave.”

Emilie waited for what she knew would be his rejection. “Marry me, Emilie,” he said instead.

“Did you hear me, Caleb? My mother was a slave.”

“And mine was a pirate.”

“What?” She shook her head. “Your mother?”

“She was the daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter of pirates.” Caleb laughed. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

She nodded, never lifting her head from his chest.

“Arrest that man for piracy.” Emilie looked up to see a strange man in a navy uniform standing at the door.
 

Before she could protest, she was unceremoniously dumped on the bunk and Caleb Spencer was off to be locked up in his own jail.
 

* * *

This time when Emilie called a meeting of the Fairweather Key school parents it was not about writing letters to the Secretary of the Navy. Rather, it was about protesting an innocent man’s arrest.

Several men had already begun a loud discussion of just what they thought should happen to the secretary for making such accusations against the judge. To his credit, Micah was doing a decent job of calming them.

“I don’t understand,” Ruby O’Shea said as she walked up and shifted a sleepy Tess to her other hip. “How can they think the judge would be one of those
pirates
?”

Something in the way she said the word made Emilie wonder what Ruby knew of such men. She shook off the odd thought and addressed the woman who practically ran the boardinghouse single-handedly. “He’s not, and that’s all there is to it.”

Ruby seemed to think a moment before nodding. “True enough,” she said. “And I’d be willing to say so with my hand on a Bible if need be.”

Again, Emilie wondered at the woman’s meaning, but she had no time to contemplate it, for the secretary of the navy himself stepped onto the porch.
 

“What is the meaning of this?” he called.
 

“The meaning, sir,” Emilie said as she pressed past those in attendance, “is that you have imprisoned an innocent man.”

Voices old and young, familiar and unfamiliar echoed Emilie’s statement.
 

“Would that you were correct,” he said, “but my eyes saw what they saw, and this man flew under a pirate’s flag. How am I to believe the man I thought worthy of a judgeship has not turned pirate like his father and grandfather before him?”

“Now see here, mister,” Ruby shouted. “I haven’t known these people long, but I have had the misfortune of knowing a pirate or two in my time. I don’t know why the judge was flying the Benning flag, but I do know any man who does would strike fear in the hearts of the sort of fellow you
should
be putting in that brig of yours. You let the judge out, and I’ll prove I’m right.”

Emilie stared at Ruby, shock rendering her unable to speak.
 

“That won’t be necessary,” a man called from the edge of the crowd.
 

“Who are you?” the secretary asked.

“My name is Fitzgerald.” He pulled a packet from his coat and lifted it into the air. “Mr. Secretary, I bring letters of introduction that will prove what these people have said about your prisoner.”

“Come forward, please.”

Mr. Fitzgerald pressed past Emilie and climbed the steps to stand beside the secretary. “Please understand, Mr. Secretary, that I am charged by the highest authority with seeing to the safety of the man you’ve thrown into that jail.” Again Mr. Fitzgerald lifted the packet, then slowly lowered it. “A part of that charge is protecting him from false accusations.”

 
It was all Emilie could do not to run up those steps and snatch the letters away to read them herself.
 

The secretary cleared his throat. “Upon whose authority?”

“The President of these United States.”

* * *

The cell was dark, the air dank and nearly void of oxygen. Caleb took deep gulps and tried to sleep, but rest would not come. He lay on the wooden bunk and stared into the darkness with only God as his companion.

“Whatever you want of me,” Caleb said, even as he prayed the Lord would set him free.

The door swung open, and Mrs. O’Mara stepped inside, humming her usual obscure verse from some hymn he’d not heard in years. His stomach complained, yet she had not brought his meal.

“I’m here to take you for sentencing,” she said.

He offered up his hands for restraints, and she shoved them away. “Just get on with yourself, Judge. A whole lot of people are waiting to see you.”

He followed her down the short distance to the office that had once been his. When Mrs. O’Mara opened the door, he saw the office was crowded with people. So full, in fact, that the crowd spilled out onto the porch, down the stairs, and onto the lawn.

As he walked, they parted until he could see his desk and the secretary of the navy seated there. Beside him stood Emilie.

“Caleb Spencer,” he said. “It appears the truth has set you free.”

“What do you mean?” He looked around at smiling faces, most of whom he knew.

“I’ve heard more testimony as to your character than I ever wanted to hear.” He cast a glance around the room. “You’ve got friends here, my boy, but I want to make you an offer.”

“Oh?” he said, though he couldn’t take his eyes off Emilie. She seemed to have a similar problem.

“Indeed, a fine man like you deserves to be where you can do the most good. I’m going to speak to the AG on your behalf. Congratulations, Caleb, it looks like you’re going back to Washington.”

Washington. His goal. Caleb shook his head. No, that was his father’s goal.

“Mr. Secretary, I respectfully decline your invitation and ask for something else instead.”

“Is that so?” He rose. “What would that be?”

Caleb reached Emilie to entwine her fingers with his. “I request, sir, that as an admiral, you stand in lieu of the reverend who is away and officiate at a marriage.”

“A marriage? To whom?” he blustered.

Caleb dropped to one knee, his fingers still wrapped around Emilie’s. “Will you have me as your husband, Emilie?”

“Yes,” she said as the first tear fell.

“Hold on here,” a voice called, and Caleb turned to see Hezekiah Carter making his way through the crowd. “If there’s to be a marriage, I’ll be the one doing the officiating.”

“And I’d ask a blessing of you as well,” Caleb said to the old pastor.

“That you have,” he said. “Now let’s all get these two down to the church and have a wedding before they change their minds.”

Epilogue

Santa Lucida

A daughter at last,” Caleb’s mother said as she gathered Emilie into
 
her arms. “Thank You, Lord, You’ve answered my prayers.”
 

“And mine,” Emilie managed as she felt her husband’s arm wrap around her waist.

“And mine,” Caleb added, “though if you and Fletcher will excuse us, Mrs. Spencer and I have a honeymoon to get to.”

“Caleb!” Emilie ducked her head just as Caleb lifted her into his arms and carried her from the room. “Where are we going?” she demanded.

He grinned. “Keep quiet, Mrs. Crusoe,” he said. “Tonight you’re my captive.”

She buried her face in his neck and held on tight. “Tonight and always.”

Other books in the FAIRWEATHER KEY series:

Beloved Castaway

Beloved Captive

About the Author

Kathleen Y’Barbo

Bestselling author Kathleen Y’Barbo is a multiple Carol Award and RITA nominee of fifty novels with almost two million copies of her books in print in the US and abroad. A tenth-generation Texan and certified family law paralegal, she has been nominated for a Career Achievement Award as well a Reader’s Choice Award and several Top Picks by Romantic Times magazine.
 

Kathleen is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, and a former member of the Texas Bar Association Paralegal Division, she is currently a proud military wife and an expatriate Texan cheering on her beloved Texas Aggies from north of the Red River. Find out more about Kathleen at
www.kathleenybarbo.com
.