“My name’s Jenny.” She bobbed a curtsy then directed her gaze to the men busy with their work on the ship. “It looks like they’ve forgotten you for the time being. Why don’t you come and visit with me?”
She looked so young and so nice that Claire could not refuse her hospitality. Beneath spreading boughs, Claire followed the barefoot girl up a sandy path, arriving at a little white hut hidden among a copse of trees. Inside the air was cooler. Jenny motioned for her to take a chair.
Claire removed her bonnet. The interior of the cottage was swept clean and polished. Shiny copper kettles hung from the ceiling, a broad table graced the center of the room and the delicious scent of stew simmered from a fireplace. Claire sighed.
Safe. Sound. Secure.
“My Wolf captains a ship for Captain Blackmon,” she volunteered proudly.
“I see,” said Claire, but she really didn’t see, and the confusion on her face must have showed because Jenny laughed.
“You’re probably wondering how I got here. My ship had been captured by pirate, Captain Silvers, my mistress ransomed and me-self only a servant with no means, saved to be bartered and sold. In a tavern in Tortuga, Captain Silvers fancied himself to deflower me in front of all the pirates. I was so ashamed.” Jenny halted.
Claire put her hand on top of Jenny’s to comfort her. It could have been that way for her with Le Trompeur if Devon had not rescued her.
“Silvers ordered his men to hold me down on a table. I cried for help. My eyes fell on a huge Titan of a man. Wolf they called him, although he looked like ten wolves put together. He saw my misery, and in my mind’s eye, I saw a decent man. He offered a great sum of money for me. But Captain Silvers would have none of it. Then Wolf cleared a path to get to me, picking up men throwing them across the room like a Goliath heaving whole trees, his strength nothing I had ever seen. I was terribly frightened for him for he was outnumbered. It took fifteen men to hold him down, and still he fought. I despaired he would die.
“Captain Blackmon swaggered in as calm as you please and ordered everyone to stop. His quick wit saved many. He challenged Captain Silvers to a game of cards, betting his ship for me. Silvers had his eye on theSea Scorpion, consumed with the superstitious notion that the ship divined power. Captain Blackmon played to his greed. I prayed like I never had in my entire life. Captain Blackmon won my freedom. Silvers resented it. Captain Blackmon obliged him with further play. Silvers put up Paradise, his island for collateral. Wolf edged closer to me. He grabbed my hand. I knew I was his the moment he made contact.”
Claire swallowed. Devon had held her hand in the gaol. Everything was expressed in that hand of his.
“At the turn of the next round of cards, Silvers lost again. A war broke out. Swords clanged. Pistols fired. I don’t remember much except Captain Blackmon pressing his sword against so many, creating a barrier for us to escape. Wolf yanked me through the crowd, using that big club of a fist of his to whack everyone out of the way. The Wolf is my love and my heart. Captain Blackmon found a preacher to marry us. We are grateful to him for helping us.”
A little stab of jealousy touched Claire’s heart. Jenny had it all. A home. A man to love and care for her. A child soon to love. A family.
Bloodsmythe arrived. “It’s time to take you to your quarters.”
Claire smiled to Jenny, thanking her for her hospitality. She had no idea where she would be placed. She had seen her uncle and Sir Teakle escorted off the ship, ghoulish creatures, slimy and dirty from their captivity in the hold, but otherwise sound. Mumblings of pirates indicated they were to be housed in a jail of some sort. Had Devon assigned her the same such quarters?
Under shady palms, she followed Bloodsmythe. Never had she met a man owning an economy of words and chronic frown. They surfaced from dense foliage, and Claire blinked from the bright light of day. Her hand flew to her chest. A small town emerged. Little white huts of mortared coral blocks dotted both sides of a street with tended vegetable gardens tilled from rich volcanic soils. A blacksmith, a general store, and other tradesmen convened on the farther end of the settlement. A team of mules dragged a wagon of fresh cut lumber. Although primitive, the town was a miracle of enterprise carved out of nowhere.
Claire stood dumbfounded. Weren’t pirate enclaves given to corruption, filth, inhabited by drunk, greasy adventurers who gambled, womanized and fought? Gone were the anarchic undertakings and ruffian indiscipline that she had heard prevailed in Tortuga. The settlement stood dignified and prosperous.Hopeful. In all respects…a place with a future. Was the colony owed to the strict obedience and submission to their leader, Captain Blackmon?
They plunged into the forest on the opposite end of town and up another steep grade. Claire followed and never complained. What kind of prison had Devon arranged? Is this the face of bitter herbs, the laudanum of her spirit? Her hair fell lank. Her dress matted to her body. If only she could have a bath and something to eat. No probability of that. They headed so far away from town. Would she be locked up in remote isolation and forgotten? Was she considered that much of a danger?
Devon would take great delight in subjecting her to discomforts and terrors. If the last days of their voyage gave any indication, that was exactly what he intended. She straightened her shoulders, refusing to succumb to weakness or fatigue. A papaya thumped to the ground. Claire snatched it up. At least the sweet fruit would give her sustenance. She had no idea when and if she would be fed.
Claire tripped on a vine and yelped. She righted herself, picked up her skirts and ran to catch-up with her guide, the precious papaya clutched to her bosom. Sweat ran down her back. She was about to ask Bloodsmythe how much farther when they surfaced from the trees.
“This is where you will stay,” said Bloodsmythe.
Claire gasped.
Had she tumbled down a hole to a place where nothing was as it seemed? Claire jerked her head back. The house, a dazzling white where the afternoon sun touched it, posed majestic, the front side facing seaward. A colonnade of slender arches followed along the sides and front with a second floor terrace hosting an open row of French windows.
Inside, an elegant single staircase swept up to a beautiful wooden facade. As Claire walked across the gleaming mahogany floor her eyes caught a large crystal chandelier suspended from a wedge-wood ceiling, affecting scintillating rainbow patterns on the walls.
“Captain said for you to use whatever of his house you require,” Bloodsmythe said, breaking her out her trance.
His house. This mansion was a pirate’s house?
“When will Captain Blackmon return?” She desired to be forewarned.
Bloodsmythe shrugged. “He’s busy with careening and repairs. Until that’s done I doubt you’ll see him. The galley’s that way,” he jerked his head, “Up there,” he pointed, “is ye’re room.” He left before Claire could ask him anymore questions. She didn’t know which room he pointed, but saw her trunk placed in front of a door and assumed it was the one designated.
Claire called out, but no answer came. Exhausted, she wandered up to her bedchamber and cried out in glee, discovering a tub filled with water and a fresh cake of scented soap laid out for her use. She dragged her trunk inside the room, and closed the door. A key stuck out of the lock. On impulse, she turned the key, finding the barrier of a locked door satisfying. She rubbed the back of her neck. A locked door wouldn’t keep Devon out.
Deliriously smitten with the idea of immersing herself in a refreshing bath, Claire stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tub. She lathered her hair, rinsed it and wrapped it up in a towel then leaned back and soaked in gardenia scented water. She gazed about her room. There were pieces of artfully carved furniture enhanced with depth and detail, but the corner piece of the room spanned a massive fourposter bed with satin covers and a nest of downy soft pillows. Where had all the entrapments come from? Stolen, no doubt. Claire yawned, then rose, the heat and the nerves of the day, taking its toll. She dried off then retrieved a night-rail from her trunk, pulled back the covers and sank between soft linen sheets.
