“Get below!” thundered the captain, his eyes murderous upon her.
She scrambled down the companionway. Lily yanked her into the cabin, her eyes wide. Claire slid the bolt, a silly gesture. If the pirates won the battle raging above, no door, no bolt, however strong, could protect them. The pirates would take all who survived as prisoners. They would be worth more to them alive as objects of their lust. Claire shuddered.
They huddled on the lower bunk, listening to the tumult of battle. They flinched at every sound, the clamor of feet overhead, the explosion of pistols, and terrible cries of men cut down. Claire’s muscles tensed, an unbearable painful tension built upon the fear of not knowing their fate. The battle raged−an endless struggle. If only, it would end. What was happening? She yearned for a hint, but could detect nothing. She derived no comfort.
She moved to the door. Lily and Cookie held her back. “I cannot bear the suspense any longer. I must see−” Then all fell eerily quiet. Claire strained her ears. No shouts, no gunfire, nothing.
She waited, hands clenched. Boots stamped down the stairs, French accented curses. The doorknob rattled. An ax chopped through the heavy oak of their locked door. Cookie moaned. Lily stayed glued to her side.
The bolt splintered and with a shout of triumph, the pirates kicked open the door. Grotesque faces leered, a tangle of arms grabbed at them, pulling them onto the deck. Death and mayhem lay spread before them, coupled with the agonizing moans of maimed and wounded men. Smoke hung in the air like a miasma from fire and pistols. Sailors from their ship cried for mercy before they were thrown into the sea. Malevolent laughter followed their plight. Their gallant captain killed and half their number destroyed with him, the ship yawing and rocking in a crippled state. Pirates were everywhere, plundering the merchantman before it sank.
On board theSea ScorpionAmes cried out. “Dear God! Lily is on deck. I cannot forsake Lily to Le Trompeur’s vileness. I beg you, Devon to intercede! We must save Lily.”
Devon swore. Wherever Lily was, Claire would be. He snapped up the scope from Ames. Lily stood next to Cookie. Claire struggled in Le Trompeur’s grasp. Near the mizzenmast, her uncle and Sir Teakle cowered. He lowered the scope. When he turned, his eyes were lit with a fury. Ames stepped back. “Set a course for theMer Un Serpent!”
Devon swung to life. “Douse all lights. Move with stealth, lads,” he barked out a myriad of orders. The sails were let out. Darkness cloaked theSea Scorpion’sswift motion through the water.
Their progress took too long. Every muscle in his body strained. “Pull up alongside. Take your time. Ease in men. I never knew speed made by over-haste to accomplish what we are about.”
“Too much speed,” complained Ames. “We’ll destroy both ships at this rate.”
“Don’t think with your brain, Ames. Think with your gut when things are not as smooth as a convent’s dining-table. We ride on the element of surprise.”
Bloodsmythe, his gunner came up alongside, his eyes taking on the glittering of an old hound picking up a familiar spoor. “Cannons are ready, when you needin’ them Captain.”
“Aye,” said Devon. “It will be good seeing our old friend, Le Trompeur.”
Removed to the deck of theMer Un Serpent, Claire forced down the irrational fear swelling in her throat. Le Trompeur, the captain of the French pirates, his eyes by nature appeared violent and wild. He posed a figure that even the imagination could not begin to fathom, a fury from the bowels of hell.
He crooked his finger to Claire with the tolerance of a god for the mortal to whom he condescended. “Come here Mademoiselle. I wish to see you in better light.”
To remain calm was to remain in control. “Sir, if you will let me go−”
“Ah,demoiselle. A fantastic creature to lay eyes on after a long and risky voyage. Perhaps you have risen from the depths of the sea as a gift from Poseidon. My beautiful lady, who are you?”
His words, flattering enough, spoken with the grace of an experienced courtier, yet his platitudes sickened her. His eyes darted over her in hungry and mocking approval. Claire gritted her teeth, not with fear, but with impatience. She lifted her chin, her immediate disdain for him evident. That look in his eyes, his well-groomed mustache, slender build and angular facial features were nothing to recommend. This scourge of the Caribbean represented himself as nobility with his smooth talk. Claire shivered. His aura evoked a greasy reptilian in black boots.
“Captain, we need your attention−” broke off his lieutenant.
“Do not ever interrupt me,” he swore at the pirate, his eyes never leaving Claire.
“But Captain, Sir, we need your attention.”
“Do not bother me again, or I will slit your throat.” Le Trompeur waited for her answer.
“No, sir,” she told him, “I am not a gift from the gods for your entertainment. Now if you would let me go−”
He clutched her arms, pushing her back against the taffrail, his strength surprising her, as did his boldness. Sir Jarvis and Sir Teakle watched the tableau. There would be no help or objection from them.
“Ah, but I am in love, I think, smitten the very second I laid eyes on you,” he cried, his French accent thick and languorous, his eyes hooded.
Claire pushed at him. To her distress, it made him laugh and try to kiss her. Rum, cheap cologne and fish nauseated her. More pirates gathered around to laugh and jeer at the vulgar display. She would not beg. She would not scream. It would only fuel their excitement, and her powerlessness angered her. She drew back her knee and brought it up hard against the French Captain’s groin.
The harshness of pirate laughter drowned out the pained sound that escaped Le Trompeur. He spoke through clenched teeth, his lips gone white and thin.
“You will rue the day you dared to injure me−” he began in raw fury and turned his glare upon his comrades. Silence snapped the air. His fingers tightened vise-like around her arms. “Know when you’re beaten, you little fool. You are a flower bud that must be forced into the advent of summer.” He thrust his hand down her bodice and pawed her breasts. She heard the material tear, and the ribald laughter of pirates ringing in her ears. Over his shoulder, Cookie and Lily were held back from assisting her.Was it to be a public rape?
A cannon blast split the air. Everyone jumped. Le Trompeur swiveled to see what havoc was about. From out of nowhere, a large ship came at them. It equaled the Frenchman’s and barreled alongside, furling tops and mainsail, stripping to mizzen and sprit. The ship swept up at such a speed the hulls rammed in an explosion. Claire fell to the deck, half stunned as gun-rails collided, splintering and shattering. The clunk of metal dug into wood, grappling hooks cast over theMer Un Serpent’sside. Pirates! Dozens of them, swarmed onto the deck from the other ship.
