Shots exploded behind her.Something whizzed past her ear, and she prayed the next one would hit her and put her out of her misery.
She must have lost consciousness for a time, for the next thing she knew, the captain and his men crossed blades with a group of soldiers.Her hands were free!She pushed from the ground where she’d been laid.Metalclangedthrough the night air, along with grunts and cries of pain.A cramp raged across her belly.Was she losing her baby?
Things went black again.
Now she was in a small boat.Oars slapped the black waters on each side.The twinkling lights from the city grew dim in the distance as she tried to make out the faces of the creatures sitting around her—creatures of the night.Nay, pirates.Same thing, she supposed.One of them slumped over, hand pressing a wound in his side.A bloodied scarf was tied about another pirate’s arm.Gabrielle swallowed a knot of fear, inching off the thwart, thinking to fling herself into the harbor, but the pirates on either side shoved her back.
The small craft leapt over wavelets.Up down, up down.Nausea rose in her throat, and she slammed her hand over her mouth to keep from tossing her accounts.Water sloshed at her feet, soaking her stockings.They passed the hulls of mighty ships sleeping in the harbor like sea monsters, so close, she could reach out and touch them.A breeze, rank with the odor of unwashed men and sodden wood filled her nose, adding to her queasiness.
The boat thudded against one of the hulls.She was shoved harshly up a rope ladder and onto the deck of a ship, a brigantine, from what she could tell.With her hands finally free, she embraced her belly and the precious child within.
Blinking away her terror, she searched for a way of escape.Anything, even an early death, would be better than the future she faced.
Without so much as glancing in her direction, the captain ordered her locked below, then began spouting orders for the injured to find someone named Moses and for his crew to weigh anchor and set sail.
Lazy-eyed Smity shoved her down a ladder.Hard.Stumbling, she gripped a nearby crate to steady herself as he grabbed a lantern from a hook.Holding it above his head, he pushed her down another ladder into the hold.A stench rose to sting her nose and steal her breath.She coughed as they made their way past barrels that no doubt held salted meat, biscuits, and other foodstuffs, past an upraised platform holding bags of flour, past the shot locker and the hold-well where water sloshed with the movement of the ship.Finally, across from the copper-lined magazine where gunpowder was stored, stood an iron cage.Her new prison.He slammed the door shut in her face.The clank of metal echoed through the bowels of the ship, sealing her fate.
“Why do you hate me so?What have I ever done to you?”
He held up a lantern, the flickering light transforming the scars on his face into monstrous scales.
“Ye women are all alike.Whores, the lot o’ ye.”He sneered at her, then marched away, leaving her in utter darkness.
Groping behind her, she touched the bench she’d seen upon entering and lowered to sit.The babe within had gone quiet.Please, God.Don’t let him be dead.She had no idea why she continued to pray.God had not answered her prayers in a long while.In fact, when she prayed, things usually got worse.
Oddly, she preferred the prison at Nassau to being locked in the hold of a pirate ship.She’d grown up around pirates.Most were naught but cutthroats who enacted torturous punishments on their enemies—and sometimes on their friends.Women prisoners were normally confined in small cabins or even the captain’s cabin if he had evil intent.Which they all did.Then why was she in the hold?Bah, what did it matter?Perhaps ’twas for the best, for surely she would die in this cesspool sooner than were she given any comforts.
Footsteps thundered above, along with shouts and the grunts of men heaving sail.The ship lurched and began to move.Water purled against the hull, the sound oddly soothing for the memories it held, happier memories of a childhood spent upon the sea with parents who loved her.She fought back tears.Surely, after what she’d done, they no longer harbored such sentiments.Shame was likely the only feeling they bore now.But who could blame them?
The shame of the great Captain Damien Allard.
Odd that the mention of his name caused this particular pirate captain to kidnap her.How had Durwin known?She couldn’t remember telling anyone who had sired the child within her.Perhaps she had cried out his name in her sleep.
Another cramp struck her belly.She leaned back against the iron bars, holding her breath to stop from screaming.The pain passed, and she gasped for air.The stench of human waste, rotten food, mold, and decay saturated her lungs.She’d sailed on tall ships her entire life, but one never grew accustomed to the putrid stink of the hold.
The thunder of sails snapped above.They must have emerged from the harbor onto the open sea.
The ship lurched, stronger this time.Gabrielle held onto the iron bars to keep from falling.
Bilge water trickled over the floor.Hefting her swollen wet feet atop the bench, she lowered her head and began to sob.She thought to pray once more, but why?God had long since abandoned her.
???
Captain Cadan Hayes grabbed a decanter of rum from his desk in his cabin and raised it to his lips.Taking a big gulp, he braced his feet against the heaving deck, lowered the bottle, and spun to face his quartermaster, Joseph Pell.
“I see your mission was successful, Captain.”Pell cocked his head, one brow raised.
Cadan grinned.“Would you expect any less?”
Snorting, Pell glanced out the stern windows onto the dark seas, sprinkled with light from a half-moon.
Taking another sip of rum, Cadan set the bottle down on his desk.“I’d offer you some but…”
“’Cause I used to be a preacher?You know I forsook that calling years ago.”
Cadan studied the man who had become a good friend over the past few years.With his stained linen shirt, colorful waistcoat, tan breeches tucked into jackboots, and cutlass at his side, no one would suspect he’d once been a man of God sent to convert the heathens on Antigua.All save for the wooden cross hanging around his neck.“Then join me in a drink, my friend.”Cadan picked up the bottle again, but this time poured some into a glass.
Pell held up his hand.“I prefer to keep my wits, Captain.”He slanted his lips.“As you should as well.”
