The Bartered Bride (2 page)

"A pirate attack, but the sailors are fighting back. The captain says to stay here until it's safe to come out." Praying the attack could be beaten off Alex ushered her daughter into the cabin and bolted the door. Then, hands shaking, she pulled her trunk from under the bunk and felt under the clothing until she found the box containing Edmund's pistol. Thank God she'd learned how to shoot as a girl. After loading the pistol, she perched on the edge of the bunk and put an arm around her daughter.

"What will happen to us?" Katie struggled to control a quaver in her voice. There was no point to offering easy lies. "I don't know, darling. We must be prepared for ... anything."

Menacing shots and screams sounded overhead, then a heavy splash. Alex stood to look out the porthole. One of the Amstel's boats had been launched and crew members were frantically rowing toward the island. As she watched, another sailor dove into the water and began swimming clumsily toward the boat.

Appalled, she realized that the battle was lost. More interested in plunder than murder, the pirates probably wouldn't bother pursuing the crewmen. But she and Katie were trapped in a cabin with a porthole too small for escape. The best they could hope for was to be taken captive and ransomed back to their own people. The worst-she glanced at Katie and shuddered-was unthinkable. She sat by her daughter again. "Have I ever told you how lovely it is to walk through green British hills on a magical, misty morning?"

"Tell me again, Mama," Katie whispered.

Alex recounted favorite memories until an impatient hand rattled the door, followed by a gruff Malay curse at the discovery that it was locked. More voices, then an improvised battering ram slammed into the door. As the planks shuddered under repeated blows, Alex cocked the pistol, aimed at the door, and tried to steady her breathing. "No matter what happens, Katybird, remember how much I love you."

"I love you, too, Mama." Katie pressed so close Alex could feel the child's beating heart. The door shattered, jagged pieces flying into the cabin. Ducking his turbaned head, a huge, half-naked Malay with a wild black beard stepped inside. He carried a wicked, wavy-bladed kris dagger, and elaborate tattoos covered most of his visible skin. From his bearing and the richness of his ornaments, she guessed he was the pirate chief. "Keep away," she ordered, trying to project authority.

"Drop gun," he said in a thick, barely intelligible accent. Despairingly she acknowledged her helplessness, for one bullet wasn't enough to save them.

The chief advanced a step, his men crowding in behind him. She raised the pistol, the barrel level with his heart. At this range, she couldn't miss. "One more step and I'll kill you." He smiled, revealing betel nut-stained teeth that had been filed to points. "Surrender-live. Shoot-both die."

Alex's pistol wavered. Her single bullet could be used to save Katie from assault or slavery. But dear God in heaven, she couldn't kill her own child!

Taking advantage of her hesitation, the pirate wrenched the pistol away. Uncocking it with the ease of familiarity, he thrust it into the waistband of his sarong. His eyes narrowed as he studied his captives. He was a barbarian, but his dark eyes were shrewd. His gaze judged Alex's face and figure like a farmer judging livestock.

She flinched back when one coarse hand caressed her cheek. While there was life, there was hope. She would demand they be ransomed. Her family was well connected, so she and Katie were far more valuable as hostages than as slaves.

The chieftain's hand moved to Katie's hair, golden in the early morning light. "Pretty." He reached to lift the girl from the bunk.

"No!" Clutching her daughter with both arms, Alex kicked at her captor. Swearing, he dodged and her foot struck only his thigh. A hand motion brought two men forward to pin Alex roughly to the bunk while the chieftain swept Katie from her mother's arms. Panicky, Katie struck at him with her fists. "Mama! Mama!"

"Katie!" Frantically Alex tried to fight her way to her daughter. With contemptuous ease, the chieftain reversed his kris and struck her head with the hilt.

She was unconscious even before her screaming daughter was carried away.

Maduri Harbor, East Indies, Autumn 1834

The island of Maduri was protected by dangerous shoals and forbidding volcanic cliffs, making the one good harbor even more welcoming. As the schooner Helena dropped anchor, Gavin Elliott's young first mate said, "It's a handsome city, Captain. I'd have thought Maduri would look more wicked." Gavin grinned. Benjamin Long was a fine Yankee sailor with plenty of experience, but this was his first voyage to the East Indies. "The Islands are dangerous in their variety. There's no more beautiful place on God's earth, and none more treacherous. Some of the finest people you'll ever meet live here, and some of the most brutal. The islands that look civilized, like Maduri, are where you need to be most wary because it's easy to think the men who live here are like us. They're not." Benjamin shaded his eyes to study the gleaming white palace that crowned the highest of Maduri's rugged hills. "The men are a little uneasy about coming here. The Portuguese carpenter claims that Sultan Kasan is an eater of souls."

"More likely a torturer of flesh, but he's a shrewd ruler who values trade. I've never heard of a Western ship being troubled here." Maduri was safe because anyone who broke the sultan's law risked being skinned alive, very slowly, or maybe roasted over a fire, but Gavin didn't mention that. Sailors were a superstitious lot. No point in disturbing them unnecessarily.

"There might've been no trouble in the past, but I don't mind admitting this place makes me uneasy, too." Benjamin's sober gaze followed a large, elaborately decorated prau rowing smartly toward them across the sun-splashed harbor. It was an official vessel, probably the local harbormaster and customs agents.

"We'll be here only a day or two. Just long enough to drop off our cargo and take on more provisions." Since Gavin had never visited Maduri, he'd been pleased when a shipping agent in Manila asked him to transport several small boxes consigned personally to Sultan Kasan. Given the shipping fee, they must be very valuable indeed, and the stop would take him only a few days off his planned route. The remote island was a near legend in the East. Rich, powerful, and secretive, the sultans of Maduri refused to accept Dutch claims to rule the East Indies, and the Dutch were wise enough not to press the issue. Wild tales circulated about the people, the island, and most of all, the sultan. The stories were enhanced by the fact that foreigners were not allowed beyond a narrow strip of wharves and taverns. Like the Chinese, Maduri sultans did not want their people corrupted by Western ideas of education and free trade and justice for the common man.

Personally, Gavin liked subversive Western ideals. His gaze went to the American flag snapping high above. The Helena, named for the girl he'd married and lost too soon, was the fastest and loveliest ship in his fleet. The design was an enlarged version of the sleek Baltimore clippers, and well suited to the China trade. Good cargo space joined with speed and seaworthiness to form a vessel that could outrun pirates or ride out the worst typhoon. It also carried sizable guns, for only a fool sailed these seas unarmed. He'd miss being master of the Helena. Though he'd started as a sailor, as his business grew he'd come to spend more and more time on land. When they left Maduri, he'd set his sails for England, where Benjamin would take over the Helena while Gavin established a London branch of Elliott House. His operations in Macao and Canton were in strong, honest hands, as was his home office in Boston. London was the last great challenge, the mercantile capital of Europe, and the goal he'd set his sights on decades earlier. He would settle there and be a brash, upstart American who'd beat the London merchants at their own game, and settle some private scores as well. There would never be another Helena, but perhaps he'd meet another gentle lady he could love. And if anyone remembered his father or that Gavin Elliott had been born and bred in Britain before being taken to America, that would make his triumph all the sweeter.

It would be years, if ever, before he returned to the East, so this voyage was his private farewell. Though Britain and America were in his bones, he'd miss the brilliance of the Indies, the islands scattered across the bluest seas on earth like jewels tossed carelessly from a giant's hand. He'd miss China, too, where he'd spent much of his time in the last years, in his airy villa in Macao or the cramped foreign settlement in Canton, the source of much of his wealth.

His reverie was interrupted when the second mate came up to him. "Captain, the Maduris wish to give you a personal message." Guessing they knew he carried a special shipment for the sultan, he approached the three men who'd boarded from the prau. Two looked like regular port officials, but the third was Chinese, not Malay. His dark hair streaked with silver and his clothing all of silk, he was clearly a man of authority.

Gavin inclined his head respectfully. "Welcome to the Helena, gentlemen," he said, speaking the simple bazaar Malay which was in common use throughout the islands. "Your presence honors my humble ship."

To his surprise, the Chinese official replied in good English. "The honor is ours, Captain Elliott. I am Sheng Yu, chief minister of Maduri, and I come bearing an invitation from His Gracious Highness, Sultan Kasan."

Long experience enabled Gavin to conceal his surprise. How did Sheng know his name when he and his ship had never visited this port? And how did an American sea captain rate an invitation from a sultan? Granted, Gavin was also a successful merchant, a taipan, as the head of a trading house was called. But this invitation didn't fit what he knew about local customs. Maybe the sultan was just anxious about his precious boxes. "I shall be delighted to personally escort the sultan's cargo to the palace."

"That is unnecessary-I shall take charge of the cargo. His Highness's desire is for you to accompany me to the White Palace to dine and spend the night as the sultan's guest." What the devil was going on? Clearly this invitation couldn't be refused unless Gavin was ready to sail away immediately. Well, he sensed no threat and he'd always had too much curiosity. "I am overwhelmed that such honor is shown to a humble captain. Pray take some refreshments while I prepare to go with you."

Gavin turned the Maduris over to Benjamin for hospitality and went to change into his dress clothes. This part of the world set great store by a rich appearance, so he'd had a Macanese tailor augment a basic naval uniform with blinding quantities of gold braid and flamboyant medals. The flat bicorn hat even had feathers. He had trouble wearing the outfit with a straight face, but it never failed to impress. Before dressing he rang for Suryo Indarto, a Malay whose duties defied easy classification, though for convenience's sake he was called a steward. Suryo had been with Gavin for over a dozen years as a source of priceless information about the East, a teacher of the arts of Indies hand-to-hand fighting, and most of all, as a friend.

Soft-footed as a cat, the Malay entered the cabin. At sea he usually wore the sarong of the Islands, but in port he wore a dignified tunic and trousers of white cotton. "Captain?"

"I've been invited to spend the night at the White Palace and I want you to come, too," Gavin explained. "What should I know about Sultan Kasan? "

Suryo frowned. "Be careful, Captain. Kasan would not ask unless he wants something from you. He is called 'the Leopard of Maduri', and enjoys playing with people as a cat torments a mouse."

"What might I have that he could possibly want?"

"Perhaps he wants the ship. There is none other so fine in these waters." Gavin belted on his ceremonial sword, which combined a chased and bejeweled hilt with an extremely functional blade. "The Helena isn't for sale."

"It is not easy to deny a sultan."

"Do you think that accepting his invitation is dangerous?"

Suryo considered. "No, killing a foreign captain would be bad for Kasan's trade. But make no bargains with him. A leopard is a treacherous partner."

"Understood." Gavin unlocked a cabinet containing a dozen expensive European art objects suitable for gifts in circumstances like this. He decided on an exquisitely crafted music box that played Mozart while the enameled figures of an eighteenth-century man and woman revolved in a mock minuet. "Pack this and bring it along with a change of clothing."

One didn't go empty-handed to interviews with sultans.

By the time Gavin reached Sultan Kasan's huge, airy audience chamber, he'd observed abundant evidence of Maduri's wealth. He hadn't seen so much shining marble and gilded statuary since a visit to the Maharajah of Mysore in India. The rooms he'd been assigned were worthy of a prince. Cynically he decided the sultan must want something big.

A gong was struck, silencing the soft voices of several dozen courtiers who clustered along the walls of the audience chamber. In the hush Sheng Yu announced, "Highness, allow me to present Captain Gavin Elliott, Taipan of Elliott House, master of the ship Helena."

"Welcome to Maduri, Captain Elliott." Like Sheng, Sultan Kasan spoke excellent English. A tall, powerfully built man in his early forties, he glittered with silk and jewels. His massive throne was designed like a peacock-feather fan, and set with a king's ransom of dazzling blue, green, and purple gemstones. Tearing his gaze from the throne, Gavin replied, "Thank you, Your Highness. I have heard many tales of the wonders of Maduri, but never thought I'd be fortunate enough to see them in person." He beckoned to Suryo who came forward with the polished walnut case that held his gift. "Please accept this trifle as a mark of my gratitude for the honor you do me."

Suryo removed the music box from its case and gave it to a servant who climbed the steps to the throne and knelt to offer the gift to the sultan. Kasan took the music box and studied it with approval. Gavin was about to demonstrate the key that wound the mechanism when the sultan figured it out for himself.

The delicately sculpted lord and lady began to dance as bright notes of Mozart spilled into the noon sunshine. The courtiers clustered along the walls of the chamber watched raptly, and even the sultan smiled. "A handsome gift, Captain. Thank you."