Time After Time (224 page)

Entwhistle stood in front of him, a scowl distorting his face. In the glow of the lanterns, Porkchop could clearly see the murderous gleam lighting the captain’s eyes. He shuddered as the frigid finger of panic traveled down his spine. Unbidden, the image of Entwhistle as Satan rumbled through his mind.

He couldn’t resist exclaiming, “Cap’n!”

“Why the hell are you on deck? Why aren’t you up in the crow’s nest?” The low menacing tone of Entwhistle’s voice struck fear in the seaman’s heart. An icy coldness settled in his belly and his stomach twisted with anxiety, nay . . . worry. What possible reason could the captain have to be up and about at nearly midnight? Whatever the reason, no good would come of it.

Porkchop shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tugged on the waistband of his baggy trousers. “I . . . I . . . came down for somethin’ ter eat.” Disgusted by the whine in his own voice, he straightened himself and looked the captain right in the eye. “They ain’t come back to the
Adventurer
. They ain’t found no treasure.”

“Be that as it may, I am tired of waiting,” Entwhistle said. “Wake up Petey, Toothless, and Sanchez.”

Porkchop didn’t move. He couldn’t. Muscles tense, mouth dry, the contents of his stomach curdled into one sour mass and left a bad taste in the back of his throat. He eyed the cat o’ nine tails in the captain’s hand and tried to swallow. “Sir?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” That low tone, the implied threat behind the words, made Porkchop stiffen in alarm, especially when the captain’s hand, the one holding the whip, moved, just a fraction of an inch.

Porkchop needed no second warning. He tugged up his trousers and ran as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Petey,” he whispered as he approached the man’s hammock and shook him. “Wake up. Cap’n wants you.”

The man mumbled in his sleep and tried to push Porkchop away. “Sleepin’. Go ’way.”

“Get up, ye worthless scum,” Porkchop exploded, his voice raising the rafters as well as rousing some of the other men sharing the small space below decks. “Cap’n’s in a foul mood an’ I ain’t takin’ no whippin’ fer ye.”

Petey’s eyes flew open. In the dim light of the lantern turned low for the night, Porkchop could see his fear, which mimicked his own. Petey scrambled from the hammock, almost falling out of the makeshift bed.

“Get Toothless an’ Sanchez an’ come topside, an’ be quick about it. Cap’n ain’t a patient man.”

Porkchop climbed the stairs to the deck on legs that felt as heavy as the
Explorer’s
anchor. He stopped to catch his breath and squelch the terror rising in him. Entwhistle paced, hands clasped behind his back, his hard-soled boots loud as they struck the deck. With every fall of his foot, Porkchop cringed.
This ain’t good. Ain’t good ’tall
.

“Where are they?”

“Comin’, sir.”

Entwhistle said nothing, although the scowl on his face deepened and his thumb gently caressed the braided leather handle of the cat o’ nine tails in his hand. Porkchop sucked air into his lungs and took a step back, hopefully out of reach of the whip. He couldn’t stop the prayer to rush his shipmates from repeating in his mind.

Petey, Toothless, and Sanchez joined them, wiping sleep from their eyes and buttoning up hastily donned trousers. All three seemed confused, not fully awake, although they snapped to attention in front of the captain.

“Lower the dinghy, Bing.” The man smiled, revealing pearl white teeth between the shagginess of his black beard. The smile did nothing to inspire confidence. Indeed, it had the opposite effect. “We’re going treasure hunting and if we don’t find the treasure, we’ll take something else.”

Porkchop swallowed hard at the captain’s words. He knew exactly what Entwhistle threatened. If he couldn’t get his hands on the treasure, he’d go after Caralyn and God only knew what he would do with her. His belly, already cramped with fear, rebelled completely, loosening with a speed that made him hold his breath. He prayed he wouldn’t soil himself in front of his crewmates as he rushed to obey before the cat o’ nine tails reached out to cut his skin and remind him who captained this ship.

Moonlight guided their way and made the whiteness of the sand glow as Toothless and Petey rowed toward the island, careful to keep the
Adventurer
within view, but far enough away so they wouldn’t be heard. The surf grabbed the small boat and pushed it toward shore, away from the
Adventurer’s
longboats.

Porkchop stepped onto the sand and looked around. Wind whispered and moaned through the trees. Boughs creaked. Leaves rattled against each other. A shudder shook him. More than ever, he didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to be part of such a tyrant’s crew.

He glanced toward the captain and swallowed hard. Entwhistle stood motionless, his arms crossed over his chest, the cat o’ nine tails still in his hand. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Where is this trail they’ve been following?”

“It’s over there.” He pointed down the beach.

“Lead the way, Bing.”

The four of them took off toward the path, Porkchop in the lead. He thought about the woman whose magical laughter filled his heart with longing, whose smile lightened his life, and wondered if he could fool the captain into taking the wrong path, perhaps even losing him in the forest. His feet sank into pristine white sand at the same rate his depression deepened. Oh, to be a stronger man, one with integrity like Captain Trey, one who could live his life as he chose without having to obey orders from someone else. He sighed. He was not that man and he knew it.

“Now what?” Porkchop asked as he stopped at the mouth of the footpath. He desperately wanted something to drink, something that would warm the coldness in his belly and erase the madness he saw before him. No such liquor existed and he swallowed hard against the bitterness in his throat.

“We wait.”

Time lost all meaning as they crouched within the ferns covering the forest floor. Moonlight peeking through the canopy of trees cast shimmering light on his companions, making them look like ghosts.

“I hear somethin’,” Petey whispered, and poked him.

“Shut yer yap, ye twice-damned fool,” Porkchop whispered back. He tilted his head and listened. He heard it then, too, the magical sound of
her
laughter, the soft, sweet tones of
her
voice. From the moment he’d heard them, they’d haunted his dreams. Other voices joined hers, and he knew she traveled with her companion and the boy, but no one else. They were alone. Perfect for Entwhistle’s plan. Porkchop’s stomach dropped and once again he prayed he wouldn’t soil himself, although the possibility remained real.

Every muscle in his body tensed and his mouth opened. He wanted to tell her to run, to hide, and would have but Entwhistle’s long, bony finger stabbed him in the back.

Porkchop glanced at the captain behind him and flinched. In the shifting beams of moonlight, the smile on his face appeared more demented and crazed than ever before. All he needed were horns growing from each temple, and the portrait of the devil would be complete.

The captain gave a slight nod of his head but said nothing. He didn’t need to; his meaning clear without words. They were to capture the women and the boy.

Despite his misgivings, despite his own sense of honor, Porkchop obeyed Entwhistle’s silent order and rushed from the shelter of the ferns, Toothless and Petey right beside him, Sanchez coming up behind him. He grabbed Caralyn around the waist, one hand covering her mouth to stifle any scream she would have uttered, the other digging into her tender flesh. She dropped the lantern in her hand. It bounced on the sand and rolled, casting a strange yellow glow on the pristine white. Toothless grabbed the other woman. Petey and Sanchez tried catching the boy, but missed. Agile and nimble, Jemmy darted through the trees, completing his escape. With a rough curse, the seamen took after the lad.

With surprise on his side, Porkchop didn’t expect the petite, filthy woman in his arms to fight as hard as she did. She bit his hand covering her mouth and kicked his shins. An elbow connected with his stomach as she wriggled and writhed to get out of his grip. “Settle yerself, Miss. I mean ye no harm.” He tightened his hold on her until she calmed.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Her body trembled with terror as she turned her head. The fear in her eyes struck his heart and he loosened his grip a little. Perhaps too much. Caralyn slid from his grasp onto the sand and tried to crawl away, back into the trees.

A black-booted foot appeared in front of her and pressed against her shoulder, stopping her progress, forcing her to sit back on her haunches with a sharp cry of pain.

Porkchop flinched.

Her eyes were wide with horror as Entwhistle roughly grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her to her feet. Her mouth opened and her chest expanded as if she prepared to scream, but not a sound issued from her throat. Porkchop cringed, seeing how hard the captain’s fingers dug into her flesh.

He glanced behind him and saw Toothless struggling with the other woman. A quick fist to the woman’s chin and she slumped in his arms. Petey and Sanchez had not returned with the boy, but he could hear the sounds of their pursuit through the lushness of the forest floor, hear the muttered curses of his crewmates.

“Who are you?” Caralyn asked, her voice low and shaking as she wrestled her arms free of his grip.

Entwhistle smiled, though it wasn’t pleasant. Indeed, Porkchop shuddered, having been on the receiving end of such a smile. He wanted to warn her, caution her against rousing the man’s ire in any way. “Winton Entwhistle, captain of the
Explorer
.”

The woman closed her eyes and drew in her breath. In an effort to stay calm? He didn’t know, but admiration for Caralyn McCreigh grew in Porkchop’s heart as she squared her shoulders. For one so petite, she had gumption. Courage. Nerve. But very little common sense.

“What do you want?”

“Why, Izzy’s Fortune, of course.”

“There is no treasure.” Though she said the words without a hint of guile, Porkchop knew she lied. Entwhistle knew she lied as well, judging by the glower on his face and the stiffness of his body.

She shouldn’t be talkin’ to him that way.
The thought crossed his mind. One never knew what the captain would do, although most assuredly, whatever the consequences, they’d be sure to include pain and degradation. He prayed the captain would let her indiscretion pass but couldn’t help his involuntary jump or his shout of alarm as the scoundrel smacked Caralyn across the face, knocking her to the sand with the force of his action.

“Stop!” Porkchop shouted the word, unable to tolerate the captain’s cruelty one more moment. It was one thing to terrorize the crew of the
Explorer
, but another matter entirely to abuse a defenseless woman, a woman who’d found a place in his heart.

Entwhistle glared at him, surprise registering on his angry, ugly face. His eyes squinted, the gleam in them promising retribution and punishment for this outburst.

Porkchop didn’t care what penalty would come. He’d been whipped before and had the scars to prove it. He’d been deprived of food and sleep and companionship, held prisoner in the dark hole in the bow of the ship the crew called hell. And he had survived. But this, this was different. For once in his life, he wasn’t going to be browbeaten, demoralized. If it took every ounce of fortitude in his heart, Porkchop was going to protect someone other than himself, no matter the consequences.

He ran toward Caralyn and helped her to her feet. His back stiffened and his hands balled into fists as he pushed her behind him and faced Entwhistle. “Ye’ll not be hurtin’ her,” he said, although his voice shook with fear. “I’ll not let ye.”

Entwhistle laughed, a cruel, demonic cackle that frightened him deep down in his soul. “Have a soft spot for the girl, do you?” he asked, his eyes blazing with rage and insanity before he released the cat o’ nine tails with a flick of his wrist. The thin leather straps, nine in all, each with a metal ball attached to the end, snapped in the air, cutting his ear and laying open the flesh of his neck.

Porkchop screamed, as did Caralyn. They both fell to the soft sand. Warm liquid seeped through the fingers he held to his neck. Blood. He glanced at her and saw the whip had caught her as well. Bloody gashes stained the sleeve of her shirt. Tears of pain filled her eyes and rolled down her cheek to drop onto the sand beneath her face and yet, she uttered not a word. Rage against the captain flared in Porkchop’s heart. He trembled with the force of it, and promised, at least to himself, Entwhistle’s cruelty would not be forgotten.

“Defy me again, either of you, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

• • •

Tristan and Stitch followed the path they’d trod so often in the past few days, one of the long trunks between them. The rest of his crew were far behind them as his quick pace and long-legged stride outdistanced them. He couldn’t seem to lose the smile pasted to his face. After years of searching, Izzy’s Fortune was his, and it was more than he ever dared dream. Caralyn would be his as well, damn the promises his father had made.

His Cara mia.

Without her, none of this would have been possible. His grin widened. He couldn’t wait to get back to the ship and show her, in so many ways, how much he loved her.

The decision to send her, Temperance, and Jemmy ahead to the
Adventurer
had been hard to make but had been the right one, if for no other reason than their utter and complete exhaustion. Indeed, the lad had been falling asleep on his feet. Caralyn, despite her excitement, couldn’t stop yawning, and Temperance, well, one look at her face and the grim set of her mouth expressed more than words ever could.

Tristan stepped out of the trees first, Stitch pulling up the rear, and stopped short, the long trunk bouncing against the back of his knees. The tableau on the beach took his breath away, made his heart thump in his chest. Every muscle, tendon, and sinew in his body tensed. Caralyn was in Entwhistle’s clutches, helpless against the man’s strength. Tears rolled down her pale face, reflecting the moonlight falling upon her. Blood stained her shirt, and pain radiated from her features.