Into His Arms (16 page)

Abruptly, a horrifying sight struck Diego’s eyes, distracting him from the battle. Galeno had taken up the blade of a fallen crewman and was hurling his small body straight at one of the pirates!

“
¡No, Galeno, espere!
” he called out. Then next thing he knew, his sword was wrested from his grip, and the Englishman’s sharp blade was pressed against his throat.

“
¡Entregue!
” the man repeated threateningly, his golden eyes glittering in the afternoon sun.

“
!Pare!
¡Pare, ahora!
” Diego shouted.

The crew around him took up the cry. “
¡Pare! ¡Pare!
” And one by one, they dropped their swords. Silence fell over them so that the only sound was Galeno, kicking and yelling in the iron grip of the Englishman he had sought to attack.

Diego felt sick. He had made a terrible mistake. If he had surrendered immediately, perhaps they would have had a chance. Now, the whole crew would be slaughtered, even the boy, all because of his foolish pride.

Giles gave the squirming lad a stern shake. “Leave off, little man!” he thundered, trying to keep his face serious. “Geoff, tell your man there to call off his puppy.”

“
¡Pare, ahora!
” Diego ordered Galeno, and the boy went still, though his face was mutinous.

“You speak a little English?” Geoff asked.

“I speak perfect English,” Diego countered.

“So maybe the first time I told you to surrender, I should have spoken English. Apparently it’s your Spanish that’s wanting.”

“The crew obeys my command,” Diego said, ignoring the slight. “They have no choice. Do whatever you will with me, but spare my men. They were only following my orders.”

“Did you know what ship you crossed?” Geoff asked, his face devoid of any emotion.

“Aye. The ship is
Destiny
.”

“Had you heard of it?”

“Many such ships plague the Caribbean,” Diego replied. “More than one by that name.”

Geoff pressed the blade a little harder into the man’s throat. “Know you what fate awaits those who would defy Captain Geoffrey Hampton?”

“What fate awaits any who are defeated by your kind?”

Geoff’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Those who surrender keep their ships; those who fight receive no quarter.”

Diego closed his eyes, and in the sea breeze the voice of a saint echoed.
But I warn you to remember this, sometimes what you wish for most is not meant to be.
Take care of your men. It is not yet time to play the hero.

“Many honorable Spanish capitáns have died on pirate blades, though they handed over their cargo for the lives of their men,” he protested. “I did but act to protect those in my care. Have you no trace of honor to which I can appeal? You are a captain. You know where the responsibility lies.”

“Aye,” Geoff replied, “I do. I have responsibilities of my own. In many ways, the safety of my men relies upon my reputation. Few men are as foolish as you. Most surrender, sparing my crew the danger of battle. I prefer it that way.”

Diego had never felt so utterly helpless in all his life. Irresistibly, he glanced again at Galeno, who was still in the pirate’s firm grip, but whose angry face was now filled with fear. Again, a voice from the past whispered.
Are we all going to die, Capitán?
His mouth went dry.

“You could torture me,” he choked. “If my men carry back a truly terrifying tale, your reputation as a ruthless killer goes unchallenged.”

A little smile tugged at the corner of the Englishman’s mouth, and Diego’s gut twisted and cramped in sheer terror, but he would not beg for mercy. He would do whatever he must to protect those who depended upon him.

Geoff had to admire the man. Right now, he was scared enough to soil himself, but he kept a brave face. This was a true leader. The kind of man he probably didn’t want to run into again, especially not if he gained a larger vessel and crew. But he was also the kind of man who commanded respect.

Scanning the deck of the carrack, Geoff felt a twinge of regret for the handful of men whose life-blood ran across its planks. Did any of them have wives? It was a thought that had never troubled him before. He was merciful to those who chose not to cross him, and that had always been enough to soothe whatever conscience he had. Some might say had he had ruined Faith, but in truth, ‘twas the other way ‘round.

“What is your name?” he asked the Spaniard.

“
Capitán
Diego Montoya de Madrid y Delgado Cortes.”

“Well,
Capitán
Diego Montoya et cetera, et cetera, as it happens, I’ve no taste for blood today.”

“What’s this?” Killigrew shouted. “Ye’re not goin’ to let ‘im off, Cap’n! ‘E knew what ‘e was up against, an’ ‘e made ‘is choice. Run ‘im through and we’ll take what we want. Then we’ll set this rat-infested crate aflame!”

Geoff kept his eyes on his prisoner, but he dearly wanted to walk over and take another shot at Killigrew’s nose. The last thing he needed right now was to be challenged by one of his own men. “Shut up, Killigrew, else I’ll toss you overboard!”

Undaunted, Pete Killigrew tried another tack. His Spanish was limited, but it was sufficient to reach
Magdalena’s
crew.

“
Cochino
,” he taunted a young sailor. The lad was barely twenty, and it was obvious that their defeat had galled him. Killigrew looked him over with contempt. “
Su madre es la puta? La prostituta, sí?
” he provoked.

The Spaniard spat in his face, and Killigrew drew his cutlass. A cry went up among the Spaniards that was answered by the English.

“Hold!” Geoff shouted, but the command was lost amid the shouting of men and the rasping of steel.
Magdalena’s
crew leaped to their comrade’s defense, and
Destiny’s
band joined the fray.

Diego cursed, and like Geoff, shouted to his men to desist, but to no avail. Cutlasses and swords rang, mingling with the cries of wounded sailors.

As before,
Destiny’s
men gained the upper hand, and the fracas was nearly at an end when an uneasy tingle zinged down Geoff’s spine. He turned quickly, stepping to the side just as his would-be attacker lunged with a blood stained cutlass. He barely heard Giles’s belated warning cry as he sank his own blade into Pete Killigrew’s chest.

It brought the last of the battle to a grinding halt. Even the Spaniards stood in stunned silence, witnesses to the clear attempted murder of the English captain by one of his own. Geoff gazed dispassionately on the man who had, quite frankly, become an irritant.

Killigrew’s body slid from Geoff’s cutlass to the deck, and Geoff gave the careless order to throw it overboard. The incident left
Destiny’s
crew edgy, filling the air with all the explosive tension of a powder keg in a lightning storm. The Spanish crew, sensing the uncertainty of whatever mercy they could hope for, stayed out of the way, watching in sullen silence as Madeira, exotic spices, precious fabrics, and their salaries disappeared into
Destiny’s
hold.

Bound so tightly to the mast that his wrists bled, Diego did not watch the process before him. Instead, he watched the other captain. The man was a mystery. He clearly took no pleasure in the day’s events. Perhaps he was still shaken by his man’s betrayal.

Without venom, Diego said, “I would not let it bother me. I don’t suppose you can expect much loyalty from a pirate.”

“Nor you much mercy,” Geoff retorted, though he could not seem to summon much malice either.

But he had hit upon a nerve. Why had he shown them such mercy? Diego wondered. Why, in this one instance, had Capitán Hampton veered from what he claimed was his usual destruction of a ship that had dared to defy him?

The pirate who had captured Galeno earlier now directed the activity, keeping a careful eye on the cargo as it was unloaded. So, Diego thought, this man was the quartermaster. The man had long ago released Galeno, after Diego had given the boy strict orders to stay out of the way. Presently, Galeno helped the ship’s doctor wash and bind wounds. In yet another unexpected gesture of kindness, the quartermaster patted the child’s head as the boy scooted past him in search of more bandages.

Leaning his head back against the mast, Diego closed his eyes. “So Santa Maria,” he whispered softly, “what I wished for most, victory, was not meant to be. Today was not yet my time to be a hero. What now? When does my time come?”

The only reply was the gentle groan of the mast as the wind pulled at its sails.

Chapter 14

Faith gripped the flintlock in white-knuckled fingers. She heard men going in and out of the hold, but they were eerily quiet. Perhaps this was the mood on a privateer ship when the captain had been lost in battle. Footsteps departed from the path to the hold, pausing outside the cabin door. She screwed up her courage as the door opened, and she raised the flintlock to her head.

“Good God, Faith, put that damned thing down!”

She was so relieved to see Geoff’s face that she didn’t even care that he had taken the Lord’s name in vain. She dropped the gun to the desk and rushed into his arms, tears of relief spilling over her cheeks.

He held her tightly against him. She was a brave wench; he’d give her that. The determination in her eyes gave testimony to the fact that she had been prepared to die. No screaming, no hysterics, just a dignified end at her own hand. He took her anxious, beautiful face between his hands and gave her a thorough kiss, one that sent both their heads spinning.

“No time to tarry, love. There’s much to do and a long story to tell you. You’re safe, and I’m here, and I’ll be back soon, for I’m wanting you a damn sight more than what we’re loading up now.” He smiled at her, and the quickening of his breath promised a reunion worth a few hours’ more waiting. And he had called her love.

“I’ll be waiting,” she replied. “Do not keep me long, for I’d have you know how glad I am to see you.”

For all their lighthearted banter, Faith still felt jittery inside. He could have been dead. It was only by the grace of God that he was not. But what about the next time, and the time after that? It was a sin, what he did for a living. He stole from innocent people. How much longer could he count on God’s grace?

Every time that Faith’s confidence flagged, each time that she wondered if she had sacrificed everything, her family, her home, her soul for naught, she assured herself that surely this was God’s will. She had prayed for deliverance, and He had given her
Destiny
and her captain. Now, she had to ask yet another question. What might Geoff have prayed for, had he any belief in the power of prayer? How was she his deliverance, too, and from what?

Geoff would never have wished for anyone like Faith. Well she knew that. And yet, was she not what he needed? She knew that she could give him the love he didn’t believe existed, but any number of women could give him that. She could preach to him, teach him all that her church had taught her, but she was in such turmoil over her own religious convictions. Surely God could have sent him a far better missionary than her pitiful self.

It seemed that Geoff had been given to her so that she could ask the very questions that terrified her, defy all that she had ever accepted as true. Could she not be the same for him? It had all been too easy for both of them. She had been handed all the answers, and Geoff had been told there were none. Even as he encouraged her to seek the truth, could she not do the same for him?

*

Later that night, or really, early the next morning, Faith sat at the desk, holding up a delicate chain of gold filigree. Lamplight danced off the facets of a sapphire surrounded by diamonds that dangled from the chain. Her eyes were wide with wonder, but he could tell by the little tug of guilt at the corner of her mouth that she was about to refuse it.

“Now, Faith, ‘tis not as though it cost me anything.”

She cast him a look of dismay. “That is just the thing. It seems to me that to accept a gift I know is stolen is the same as stealing it.”

“Where do you think I got the silk?”

Faith’s conscience pricked her. The dress was finished, but there was no way to clean the delicate fabric on the ship, so she was waiting to wear it. “I guess I didn’t think about it. I was so busy worrying that it was sinful in and of itself.”

Geoff laughed and pulled her up and against him. “‘Tis a funny thing. I would think you had given up on all those commandments.”

Faith flushed, but her smile belied any shame. “I cannot explain it. I know any minister would disagree, and mayhap I am only seeking an excuse for my behavior, but I cannot feel shame for what we share.”

“I tell you, Faith, the rules you follow are the rules of men, not any deity.”

She looked wistfully at the pendant. It tempted her, not for its beauty, though it was an exquisite piece, but for its value as a love token. Still, there were moral boundaries that went beyond the choices she made for herself.

“To whom do you suppose it belongs, and where was it going? What if this belongs to someone’s mother, and she is sending it to her son for his bride-to-be? What if it is some last memento of a loved-one lost? For you I am willing to risk my immortal soul, but I cannot take something from an innocent.”

“Innocent? It belonged to a Spaniard.”

“My uncle is a Spaniard. Why is that so terrible?”

“Ask the poor souls who’ve faced the Inquisition.”

“Are we English without sin? Do we not justify the murder of savages in the name of God?”

“For God’s sake, Faith!” At her wince he sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry. Damn your bloody commandments! Must you make everything so complicated? Spain has been a thorn in England’s side in these islands for over a century. Even the king grants us his blessing in plundering their greedy stores.”

“Has the woman who wore this been a thorn in England’s side?”

Thrusting a hand through his hair, he sighed in frustration. He had never thought of himself as stealing from people. He had always stolen from Spain.

“If it troubles the king not that we take the entire city of Panama, what care you for a little trinket?” he grumbled. He felt another twinge of conscience over the whole affair of the Spanish ship, not at all liking it.