Mad Morgan (12 page)
Authors: Kerry Newcomb
“I built my house to catch the last light of day. Every sunset is mine.” He climbed out of the carriage, held out his arms to her, helped her down, and then the two of them sloshed through the rain and mud.
The house was built upon a pole-and-beam construction and set partway up the hillside, well away from the shore, so that even during a monsoon, if the floods came, the house would still be above the surging sea. He took her hand and together they climbed the steps to the porch whose thatch roof shielded them from the rain. Droplets battered the woven fronds overhead and cascaded down the steps and poured from the eaves.
Elena Maria paused there, to look back toward the town, its lights hidden now; the storm had drawn a curtain of rain across the peninsula, obscuring Port Royal and the bay.
We could be the last two people on earth
. They were alone. And anything could happen.
We could be the last two people on earth
. They were alone. And anything could happen.
Morgan opened the door and brought the señorita into the large front room that dominated the entire front of the house. He felt his way along the wall to a lantern, raised the glass chamber, struck a spark until he lit a taper, and then touched that single flame to the lantern wick.
The wick, soaked with whale oil, burst into flame and illuminated a portion of the room, a wall hung with muskets and swords and pistols, a long table littered with maps and journals, an opened chest of books at one end. A doorway opened onto a bedroom where the lantern light reached all the way to a large feather bed mounded atop a mahogany four-poster frame.
It was a rustic palace made of thatch and wood, as if the house itself had sprouted from the hillside and been formed by a quirk of nature. And it would have been all the more inviting if Captain Hastiler had not appeared in the doorway and blocked the view of the bed.
Morgan drew back in surprise. But he quickly recognized the uniform and the officer's blunt, honest features, and refrained from reaching for his own weapon. Elena Maria gasped and pulled Morgan's coat about her shoulders for modesty's sake.
“Alan Hastiler,” said Morgan.
“One and the same, Captain Morgan.”
“You're a long way from the barracks.” Morgan checked the other
doorway that led off into a dining area that he seldom used, for he took his meals on his porch or in town. As far as he could tell, Hastiler was alone. But he could be wrong. “Come all this way to welcome me home?”
doorway that led off into a dining area that he seldom used, for he took his meals on his porch or in town. As far as he could tell, Hastiler was alone. But he could be wrong. “Come all this way to welcome me home?”
“To bring you to the governor. And your guest.” Hastiler nodded toward Elena Maria. “Your pardon, Doña Elena, but I assure you that you are among friends. Sir Richard has prepared a place for you in the governor's house.”
“We'll pay our respects in the morningâlate,” Morgan said.
“Not good enough,” the officer said.
“It will have to do.” Morgan walked to the front door and shoved it open. Lightning shimmered, revealing a pair of disgruntled-looking English marines standing on the porch, muskets leveled at the freebooter.
From the looks of their muddy trouser legs and sodden red cloaks it appeared they must have been hiding in the crisscross of timber-and-beam scaffolding beneath the house. The marines kept their muskets pointed in his direction and slowly advanced. They looked wet and miserable, and judging by the look of their scowling expressions, the English soldiers blamed the buccaneer for all their discomfort. Morgan heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind him and turned to face Hastiler yet again.
The officer leveled a horse pistol at Morgan's chest.
“The governor insists.”
“I
t is a poor welcome, Doña Elena,” Sir Richard Purselley said, crossing around from behind his desk and hurrying across the councilroom to personally extend his regrets. He wore a floor-length velvet robe over his ruffled shirt, waistcoat, and cotton breeches. The strain of the long hours had taken their toll, left pouches under his eyes, and added a nervous twitch to one corner of his mouth.”I am Sir Richard Purselley, governor of Jamaica by appointment of His most Royal Majesty, Charles the Second.”
t is a poor welcome, Doña Elena,” Sir Richard Purselley said, crossing around from behind his desk and hurrying across the councilroom to personally extend his regrets. He wore a floor-length velvet robe over his ruffled shirt, waistcoat, and cotton breeches. The strain of the long hours had taken their toll, left pouches under his eyes, and added a nervous twitch to one corner of his mouth.”I am Sir Richard Purselley, governor of Jamaica by appointment of His most Royal Majesty, Charles the Second.”
He glared at Morgan. The buccaneer returned the stare, his slate-gray eyes wary, his expression inscrutable. Morgan knew this clandestine visit could hardly bode well. He took stock of the meeting room, noting the two soldiers lounging to either side of the entrance hall that led off into the governor's house. Another couple of marines had been rousted from sleep and stationed behind the governor's desk and chair at the opposite end of the room. Then there was Hastiler and the two soldiers positioned to either side of the buccaneer. Six ⦠no, seven well-armed men.
Purselley is expecting trouble,
Morgan thought; then he remembered:
Oh, that's right ⦠me.
Purselley is expecting trouble,
Morgan thought; then he remembered:
Oh, that's right ⦠me.
“I only just now discovered your presence among these brigands,” Purselley said, addressing the woman. “But once I learned of Captain Morgan's perfidy, I alerted the entire garrison and dispatched them to rescue you.”
“Captain Hastiler's was a most timely arrival,” Elena Maria replied,
unable to bring herself to look at Morgan. The world had intruded on them, plucked her from the unreality of the storm and the house by the sea, and brought her into the light. She was once more the kidnapped bride-to-be, and had better be on her guard. A single rumor in the wrong ear could ruin a señorita's best-laid plans.
unable to bring herself to look at Morgan. The world had intruded on them, plucked her from the unreality of the storm and the house by the sea, and brought her into the light. She was once more the kidnapped bride-to-be, and had better be on her guard. A single rumor in the wrong ear could ruin a señorita's best-laid plans.
“Joseph!” Sir Richard bellowed. It took an immense effort on the English governor's part to keep from ogling the glimpses of firm round flesh visible beneath the sodden lace that no longer adequately covered Elena Maria's bosom. The Maroon servant appeared in the hall doorway. “Wake Rebecca. Have her attend Doña Elena until we can recover her own servant. Prepare a room for our esteemed guest.”
The old man bowed and hastily departed. Thunder rumbled overhead, foreshadowing unpleasant things to come. Outside, the storm's intensity increased, bending the branches of the blue mahoe and mimosa trees lining the drive; wind gusts assaulted the hillside, rippling the ferns and mosses and sweeping up the governor's road to rattle the door and moan about the walls.
“And you will ransom me?” Elena Maria asked.
“Heavens no, my dear lady. England and Spain are no longer at war. I tried to warn Captain Morgan about that fact before he set sail. Indeed, I had heard rumors from other merchant ships and forbade him to leave Port Royal until news of the treaty could be confirmed. Word arrived soon after he departed, against my expressed orders.”
“I sail where and when I please,” Morgan said, unable to endure the youthful governor's tirade in silence. A youth spent in captivity and servitude was not an easy thing to forget. “I signed no treaty with the Dons.”
“You signed noâ!” Sir Richard sputtered. His cheeks reddened as a patchwork of spidery veins engorged themselves with blood. “Your raid on Maracaibo was an act of piracy. And the dastardly abduction of this woman who is to be married to Don Alonso del Campo, the governor of Panama, could well jeopardize the newly signed treaty.”
“I sailed under letters of marque,” Morgan retorted, realization dawning that Sir Richard knew far more about Elena Maria and Maracaibo then he ought to. Such information could have only come from someone in Port RoyalâLeBishop? Perhaps ⦠“I am authorized as a privateer and enjoy the protection of the Crown.”
“Your letters of marque were revoked the minute you disobeyed my orders and left Port Royal. And you shall be held accountable.” Sir Richard stiffened and folded his arms across his bony chest.
Morgan did not like the sound of that. He glanced around the
councilroom, weighed his options, pondered whether or not he could overpower the soldiers flanking him. But then there was Hastiler, who could be a capable opponent ⦠and the other two soldiers by the side door.
councilroom, weighed his options, pondered whether or not he could overpower the soldiers flanking him. But then there was Hastiler, who could be a capable opponent ⦠and the other two soldiers by the side door.
“You and the merchants and the good citizens of Kingston have enjoyed our protection against the Spaniards for many years now. Our presence has ensured Kingston's prosperity as an English colony. Do you think Captain Hastiler and his marines, a single ship, and a few cannons and redoubts overlooking the harbor would protect you if the Spaniards came in force? It is the Black Flag they fear.”
“But now there is a peace. And I have received dispatches assuring me that Jamaica will received a proper garrison of men and ships. The rule of Law is coming to the island ⦠to all the islands, including Port Royal.”
“We are the Brethren of the Coast. We are free men.”
“No longer.”
“Two hundred men sailed with me to Maracaibo. You cannot jail us all, Sir Richard.”
“No, but I can begin with you,” Purselley said. “Captain Hastiler, escort Captain Morgan to the keep. We will bind him over and dispatch him to England for trial and proper punishment.”
Morgan tensed. Anger flashed in his gray eyes. He took a step toward Purselley, who recoiled in surprise. The soldiers brought up their muskets, Hastiler jammed his smoothbore pistol into the small of his prisoner's back.
“Mind you, the woman, Captain Morgan.”
Elena Maria would be in harm's way if a melee ensued. Morgan saw his chances shrink from slim to none. He could not endanger her. And besides, Sir Richard's charges would never stand.
“I'll play your game, Sir Richard,” Morgan said. “But know this: one word from me and the Brethren would storm your gates. But this is our home. Treaty or no, Spain will not tolerate an English presence for long. The Dons covet this island and will one day come to drive you out. Then you will have need of us to help you stop them.”
Morgan turned and bowed to Elena Maria. “I regret this evening's untimely end. But there will be another.” He grinned and winked. Then he returned his attention to the governor of the island. “Take me to England, Sir Richard. But don't hang your hopes on my swinging from the gallows. All the plunder I have delivered to the English court has bought me the influence of a great many friends. There are magistrates of the Admiralty who have grown quite fond of the gold
I've sent them. Indeed, they've gorged themselves on the fruits of my labors. I doubt they will think kindly of the man who shooed them away from the trough.”
I've sent them. Indeed, they've gorged themselves on the fruits of my labors. I doubt they will think kindly of the man who shooed them away from the trough.”
“Be off with him,” Purselley ordered.
“I might even return with a governorship of my own.”
“I said take him away!” Sir Richard's eyes seemed to bulge in his head as if they were about to explode from his skull.
Elena Maria watched in silence, uncertain what to make of her changing fortunes but determined to use the situation to her advantage. “Señor?”
“Yes. You must forgive my outburst.” Purselley sighed and took a lace-trimmed kerchief from his waistcoat pocket and mopped the perspiration from his face. He waved a hand toward his fragile-looking manservant, who arrived with a sleepy-eyed scullery maid. Rebecca was a slim-hipped dusky young girl, she curtsied, announced a bed was drawn back for the señorita, and then waited off to the side.
“There is a Dutchman setting sail tomorrow,” Sir Richard said. “I will see that it brings a dispatch to Don Alonso, informing him of your safety, and that I have placed Morgan under arrest. Until the governor comes to escort you home, you shall be my treasured guest. You will want for nothing.”
Elena Maria lowered her eyes demurely. “You are most kind.”
Sir Richard swallowed the lump in his throat. Even bedraggled, the señorita was an enchanting creature: those dark eyes, the long tresses, her full, inviting lips. “Then I bid you good-night. I am certain your own servant will be returned to you in the morning.”
Sir Richard bowed and kept smiling until Joseph, Rebecca, and the señorita were out of sight. Thunder cracked like an artillery barrage outside his window, causing him to jump. The smile faded, to be replaced by a scowl, as if he had bitten into a sea grape and choked on the bitter juice.
Curse Morgan,
he thought, and ambled over to the desk and wearily sagged into the thronelike chair.
Curse Morgan,
he thought, and ambled over to the desk and wearily sagged into the thronelike chair.
“Señor ⦠you look troubled. You have been so kind to me, is there something I can do to help?”
Purselley was surprised to see Elena Maria standing in the doorway to the hall. She seemed so small and delicate, standing there in the flickering lamplight.
“Doña Elena. You are most kind. Ah, but I fear my troubles are beyond your gentle powers to correct. The damnable pirate was right. No doubt Morgan does indeed have friends at the Admiralty. For
almost ten years now, he has been enriching their coffers as well as his own.”
almost ten years now, he has been enriching their coffers as well as his own.”
Sir Richard had begun to see the weak link in his plan. Morgan might well return from England more powerful then ever. But backing down and setting him free could also be a problem. That would only further strengthen Morgan's reputation. Sir Richard said as much to the woman.
“ ⦠So you see, I dare not keep him, I dare not set him free.” The English governor winced, as if he had plucked a rose only to be skewered by a hidden thorn. “If only someone would rid me of this meddlesome rogue.”
“But Señor Purselley, I might be able to help after all,” said Elena Maria. The rain droned on. Her voice, soft and seductive, carried to him from across the large open space, from where she stood, half in light, half in shadow.
“You, milady?”
“And my future husband.”
Other books
Openly Straight by Konigsberg, Bill
Marrying Daisy Bellamy by Susan Wiggs
The Age of Suspicion by Nathalie Sarraute
The Trouble with Bree (Spotlight #1.5) by Kristen Strassel
Arena One: Slaverunners by Morgan Rice
Up to Me (Shore Secrets) by Christi Barth
Shooting Stars by Allison Rushby
The Party Season by Sarah Mason
Face by Aimee Liu, Daniel McNeill
The year of the virgins by Cookson, Catherine, 1906-1998
