The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth, and she longed to jump into the dark rippling waters.To end all this madness here and now.
But she had more to think about than herself now.She would never leave her son.
???
Though Charlestown boasted a small Royal Naval Base, protected by Fort Charles, recently it had become a haunt for pirates and nefarious seamen, particularly when the sun set.No doubt the need for privateers forced British officers to not only look the other way but to allow their fellow combatants their nightly debauchery.Hence, ’twas no surprise to find bands of savage buccaneers roaming the streets, deep in their cups, seeking a fight—anyfight.Good thing Cadan had a reputation as an expert swordsman and heartless avenger, one he’d spent years fostering for such a time as this.For he had no time for foolish braggarts and useless pompous challenges.
He glanced over his shoulder at Lady Fox and Omphile, protected on both sides by two of his largest men.The lady glanced about with more curiosity than fear.Odd.Durwin and Smity walked behind them and two more of his pirates took up the rear.Pell strolled beside Cadan, hand clenching the hilt of his blade.Perhaps he should not have brought Smity, wanted for desertion as it was, but the man had insisted, and he promised to keep his head down.It also helped that he was a good fighter, should Cadan run into trouble.Besides, Cadan had a special mission for the bosun, a small test of his loyalty.
“Not the best place to bring a lady, Captain,” Pell said.
“A necessary evil,” Cadan replied, casting a stern eye on a group of pirates stumbling down the street to their left.
Music from a bagpipe chimed from within the walls of a tavern, along with off-key singing, shouting, and swearing.Men, arms around doxies, spilled from the door like vomit into the night.A pistol shot cracked the air.
Halting, Cadan listened for another, but the sounds of revelry returned.
Lanterns flickered atop poles, spreading spheres of gold over the cobblestones as wind brought the scent of the sea, roast pig, and men’s sweat to Cadan’s nose.
A band of pirates crossed the street in front of them.Halting, their leader narrowed his gaze upon Cadan.“Shiver me soul, if it ain’t the bilge-sucking cap’n o’ theResolute.What brings ye ’ere, Hayes?”He snorted as his hand fingered the hilt of his cutlass.
Cadan huffed a sigh.“Naught to concern you, Deadeyes.Move along.”The aged pirate was big of head and paunch and of less than mediocre intelligence.A roaring, quarrelsome, hard-drinking, hard-gaming scoundrel, and Cadan had not the time to deal with him.
The men with Deadeyes stared at the ladies, licking their lips.
“So’s ye remember me, eh?”Oddly, pride permeated the man’s drunken tone.
Cadan smiled.Who could forget a man who’d stolen—or attempted to steal—a pouch of coins from him?“I remember slicing off two of your fingers.”
The man winced.His men chuckled.The empty look in his eyes grew darker, if that were possible.His remaining fingers grew tight on his cutlass.“How’s about a rematch?”He gestured toward Lady Fox standing behind Cadan.“Fer the lady?”
“Come on, Karn,” the man standing behind him slurred and tried to tug him away.“Leave ’im be.”
Laughter and the sound of female voices lured the rest of Deadeye’s companions to head toward a punch house across the way.
“I suggest you take your friend’s advice or lose the rest of your fingers.”
Deadeyes spat to the side, then belched.“Another time, Cap’n.Another time.”
Cadan smiled.“I shall await the moment with great anticipation.”
Turning, old Deadeyes stumbled away, flinging curses in his wake.
“Making friends, I see,” Pell remarked as Cadan continued forward.
“More like keeping the animals at bay.”Hastening his footsteps, Cadan drew a deep breath as they left the main part of town behind, giving way to shops and warehouses and avenues leading to homes and farms.Now, to find the church.It shouldn’t be hard.There weren’t many places of worship on this spit of an island, and this one was said to be along the main thoroughfare.
The babe squealed behind them, and he glanced once again at the ladies.Omphile handed Matthew to his mother, and after drawing him close, she gave Cadan a scathing look.
Was he the monster he saw reflected in her eyes?Perhaps.For what kind of man used a baby to get what he wanted?Bitterness filled his mouth, despite his attempt to swallow it.Yet what other choice did he have?Allard was no mewling poltroon to be easily defeated.Nay, trickery was the only way.And Cadanmusthave his revenge.For Elyna.And for the torturous years he spent as a slave on Barbados.Pain held memories too, as he shifted his back against the stripes he’d received.
The sounds of music and drunken laughter faded, replaced by night birds and thewhishof wind through leaves.There.He peered through the darkness at a stone structure perched near the road.A steeple rose into the black sky like a beacon of hope.A good sign?
Halting, he spun about.“Smity.You know what to do.”The bosun uttered an “Aye” and sped off into the night.
“Pell,” Cadan continued, “with me.Durwin, bring the ladies.The rest of you stay out here.If you see anyone, alert me.”
“Aye, Cap’ns” shot into the night as Cadan headed for the church.
