With One Look (31 page)

Marianna had lain on that table. Her skirt was lifted over thin, bloodied thighs and her blouse was torn, revealing bruised and bloodied flesh. She was dead. Murray had gotten sick, just as they heard a pistol fire outside. Moran had fired a gun point-blank into his head.

Don Bernardo's men had been apprehended and hung. But Victor was not thinking of this retribution as he loaded the four pistols. The image in his mind was of Jade's body lying on the table, and it pushed him over the line separating sanity from insanity.

John raced to round up what men he could find to meet Victor and Sebastian at the Black Crest. Sebastian raced to get Victor's mount, while Victor positioned two pistols in his belt alongside a long dagger. Carrying the two other weapons, he raced to meet his horse. Waiting with the horse, Sebastian caught both pistols, tossed one after another. By the time he secured both in his belt, Victor had already galloped into the gray day, racing like a madman to hell.

Victor felt his strength, his body, his very soul buckling under, collapsing with a grief that could not be borne, and using all the force of his will, he banished the image from his mind. He did not have a thought.

He merely acted.

His name was Raphael. Strong and mean, he was known for knife throwing and an ability to out drink Don Bernardo. He stood on guard duty when Victor rode up, and before Victor even reined in his horse, the man tossed a knife into Victor's bare arm, readying another. A warning: the next knife would pierce a more vital organ.

Victor took no notice of it.

The man started to call for help—but too late. Victor flew from his mount, kicked a booted foot hard into Raphael's groin and sent him doubled over with pain. Victor slammed the butt end of a pistol into the man's face again and again. The man fell to the ground. With a knee on the fallen pirate's chest, Victor put the pistol to Raphael's head.

Madness shone from the dark blue eyes. Victor pulled the knife from his arm, tossing it to the side. All he said was, "Where is she?"

Raphael smiled slyly, then spit blood to the side. "Nolte, ole boy, we all owe you. Ain't had a bloody piece as good as your wench in years. Why, it took nearly five of us to quiet her moanin'—"

Victor again smashed the end of the pistol into Raphael's face. A mistake, for with that action he lost what little control he had. Blow after deadly blow followed the first. Knowing only the vicious fear pounding in his heart, wanting only to kill or be killed, he never realized the man was dead.

Sebastian rode up on the frightening scene and flew off his horse, shouting Victor's name as he came up behind Victor. He grabbed Victor's uplifted arm with both hands. Victor swung his free arm around as his body lifted with frightening force, knocking Sebastian into the air. He landed with a slide in the mud on his back.

Victor stared at him in shock.

Sebastian tried to lift himself from the ground but fell back. "You broke my rib, you bastard," he said breathlessly. "For God's sake—no, for Jade's sake—get a grip on yourself!"

Victor shook his head as though to clear it as Sebastian ordered, "Go on, get! The others will be here soon, but I'm warning you, Vic, if you get yourself killed up there,

I will curse over your grave "

Sebastian watched as Victor silently moved up the gangplank and then disappeared in a darkness that was the Black Crest. Damn, he would get himself killed! Enduring excruciating pain, Sebastian lifted himself from the ground and cautiously made his way after his friend.

Victor had to knock out two men before he could make his way below deck. He slowly moved down the stairs and into the long corridor. He heard voices coming from the mess hall, recognized them as Don Bernardo's, and he turned the opposite way. He ducked inside the carpenter's room. The small room was centrally located on the ship, and because of the stock of wood inside, it was perfect for his purpose. He grabbed the lighted lamp hanging by the door, dumped the oil over the room and tossed down the lamp. He waited to make certain the blaze took before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. He moved down the hall.

The man coming down from the deck had no chance. Victor sprung upon him with a quick deadly punch to the throat. The man dropped with a sick gasp. Victor moved on, stopping just outside the doorway of the mess hall, listening first to determine how many men were inside.

Don Bernardo swore: "You son of an ale whore! 'Tis not a matter of strength." The prove the point, he placed a bottle of rum between a forearm as large as most men's upper arms and an upper arm as thick as most men's thighs and with a quick flex of those grotesque muscles, he crushed the bottle, then merely brushed the shattered glass from his arm.

"I can kill ten men with my bare hands," he continued, a fact each man there had witnesses. "She is just a little thing and comely, aye, but I swear, Nolte's whore is the devil's handmaiden! I should let you bastards have her so you can know what that wench put me, Don Bernardo, through. She throws up on me twice, tosses broken bottles in my face; she goes crazy like a dog! And finally, when I get her bloody clothes off and just as I am throwing her to her back ..." He shook his head, chuckled. "Madonna, I still don't believe what the little girl did."

Obscene laughter and comments roared in Victor's mind.

"No, I am telling the truth, amigos. I need another bottle before I face her again, and I wager now I will end up throwing her over the side again!"

Blood pumped hard and fast into Victor's head as he tried to comprehend what was being said. He only grasped that Jade had somehow fought him, that Jade was alive.

She was alive!

Don Bernardo's experience gave rise to other stories of meetings with cunning or elusive women. The party roared with laughter as the other men related similar tales. The laughter died a sudden, instant death as gazes turned to the doorway, where they confronted the barrels of two pistols.

No one moved.

Victor never looked taller, more threatening or frightening than he did standing in the doorway of the Black Crest's mess hall. Clad only in a canvas vest and breeches, not even wearing boots, and with water dripping unnoticed from his person, his barely clad frame radiated the beast he had become. Again, all he said was, "Where is she?"

With boots on the table, and not really surprised, Don Bernardo chuckled slowly, took a long draught from a rum bottle and slammed it back to the table. "Nolte, you got me good this time; the wench has not been worth it. I should have killed the bloody whore."

Victor was not there to discuss it. He fired, the bottle exploded on the table and glass flew across the room. He demanded one more time. "Where is she?"

Silently, a man came up behind Victor. Sebastian might have stopped him before he thrust the dagger into Victor's back, but as Sebastian raised his sword, pain shot through his body and he stumbled, and while he managed to force his sword into the man, it was a second too late. Victor jolted, felt the cold metal dig two inches into his back, and the pistol fired twice into the dead center of Don Bernardo's massive chest.

A cloud of smoke filled the space. "Don't move!" Sebastian warned as he jumped through the door, leveling his two pistols at the remaining men.

Don Bernardo's death was quick and painless, and as Victor reached behind to withdraw the dagger from his back, he regretted that. The men stood up, arms raised.

Outside, John and a good twenty or so of Victor's men swarmed up the gangplank. "She's in the captain's cabin, quarterdeck."

Victor left first, followed by Sebastian. Vicious flames licked the end of the smoke-filled corridor, looking like the mouth of an angry dragon. They dropped to their hands and knees to escape the smoke. Victor reached the stairs, emerged in the fresh air where men were fighting everywhere.

Numb with shock and exhaustion, Jade curled up in a small ball in the far corner of the room. The smell of smoke to a blind person is the sight of a gray fin to a swimmer, the worst possible threat. She assumed the battle sounds were efforts to put out a furious fire that would surely be her death.

The door crashed open and she covered her head with her arms, thinking that some man had come to either take her away or throw her into the flames. She screamed as hands grabbed her. She tried desperately to kick, twist away, but he lifted her into his arms, crushed her against him. Then she heard his voice.

"Jade, it's me ... it's me!"

Victor kissed the trembling hand that slowly reached to his face. Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn't utter a sound as she collapsed against him, and he held her tightly against his strength.

She is safe as long as she is with you.... May God make it so....

The fight was over and the ship ablaze when Victor carried Jade down the gangplank. The remainder of Don Bernardo's crew was forced over the side to watch from the water as the ship was consumed by fire, a fire of such wild and eager flames that it only laughed at the rain falling into it.

Victor's men watched from the dock, passing bottles back and forth as they cheered. With the help of two men, Sebastian managed to mount his horse. He handed his cape to Victor. Victor wrapped it around Jade's shoulders before they disappeared into the darkness. With the help of a friend's brandy cask, Sebastian swallowed his pain and stayed to witness the glorious ruin of the pirate's ship.

In the land of the Orient, one is born again—given a new life, a different perspective, a second chance—after having lived through a confrontation with death. Victor had experienced the certainty of Jade's death. He would not waste this precious second chance.

The next day a small gathering composed of Mother Francesca, a number of other Ursuline Sisters, Mercedes, Sebastian, Tessie and Carl stood in the convent gardens. Broken clouds and rain and bursts of bright sunshine raced across the uncertain sky. Smiles lifted the joyful faces and tears filled many eyes as Father Nolte sang the sacred text of marriage. Victor and Jade spoke the vows of love and honor until death, vows that were sealed, liked their fate itself, by a ring. The moment Jade felt Victor's strong fingers slip this precious ring on her finger, a tingling raced up her spine.

Everyone assumed the mist of tears in the blind green eyes sprang from happiness...

*****

The room was crowded with men. Victor conducted most of his business in the room above the warehouse. It was an unfinished room, and while he always meant to set his men to finishing it off, plastering and painting, fitting the windows before adding the carpet and the furniture, he somehow never got around to it. The walls and floor were virgin wood and a wide- open window overlooked the yard and the river beyond. They nailed a canvas over it when it rained. A long table, made of a thin sheet of wood, sat atop four different sawhorses and served as the worktable or desk. Papers covered the top, set down in random piles, and ashtrays spilled cigar

butts and matches onto the floor. Maps and engraved ship designs hung on the walls. Stools served as chairs. Men came and went over the sawdust floor.

Victor loved the place. He loved most of all the sound of work: the hammers and saws and shouts of the foremen against the rush of the river water. He loved watching his ships grow and take shape outside his window.

John led the man up the narrow staircase that went directly into the room where Victor worked. The man's tall, well-muscled body was rigid with fear. Perspiration poured from his frame, though it was still only early in the day. The noise and bustle of the room were not a comfort, nor was the mix of colored and white in the room.

A white man's summons could mean only trouble. "Vic," John called. "Here's your man. Jefferson."

Victor looked up from the drafts. The man's fear was palpable. He was a young man, not yet twenty, and while he stood tall, he kept his eyes cast down in adherence to the unspoken rule: never but never look a white man in the eye. Victor did not at first ease the fear.

"Jefferson," he repeated flatly. "Do you know why I called you here?" He replied in a whisper. "No suh!"

Victor motioned away two approaching men, and then asked for privacy. Motion and words stopped. A half dozen men gathered up their things and headed for the stairs. Only John remained.

"The matter concerns your mother. The woman named Tara."

Jefferson's dark eyes lifted with surprise. "My mama? Why, my mama's dead now, suh."

She is a dead woman ... Marie had said, and so she had been right again. Not that he had believed it at first. He hadn't, but just to make sure he had his agents go through the local deaths starting from the day after Jade left for the country, looking for anyone who had a connection to the Devon household. They found Jefferson's mother, Tara. "Yes, I know. I also know you were born on Devon plantation, Galier Manor."

The young man appeared plainly confused. His gaze kept shifting uncertainly about the floor. "Yes suh."

"My wife is Jade Terese Devon."

Jefferson looked up again, his fear dissipating at the sound of her name. He nodded, and though his face remained solemn, his eyes lit with a smile.

Victor had grown accustomed to this response to his wife's name. The whole town loved her. "I understand Jade's mother," he continued, "Elizabeth Devon, took you from your mother and gave you to a another family: the Bozoniers?"

"Yes suh. She done sign my free papers, too."

The soft-spoken words somehow managed to convey the magnitude of this grace. Victor was not unaffected; he would never be unaffected by a man's freedom to sell his own labor. "Yes, so I've heard. Do you know why she sent you away from your mother?"

Jefferson struggled to answer, shifting uncomfortably. Again, in a whisper, he said, "My mama was not right. In the head. She saw these spirits everywhere. She talk dem up, upsettin' all them folks that heard. Folks got mighty skeered of her talkin' on like that...." He closed his eyes, remembering the beating spells. It got so that he had been terrified of his own mama.

It was obviously a painful subject. "She was beating you," Victor said, adding the rest. 'To get rid of the evil spirits she thought were inside you."