Grabbing the decanter, he started to pour a glass when a slight whimper met his ears, followed in seconds by a roaring wail.
Scads!Setting down the rum, Cadan strode to the chest and picked up Matthew.This was why he never wanted children of his own.They were nuisances, demanding, selfish, and time-consuming.You couldn’t reason with them or even threaten them, for they were silly and nonsensical.You couldn’t even lock them in the hold or send them out on their own, for they couldn’t fend for themselves.Besides, they smelled bad.He sniffed and shrank back from the foul odor.
He should call for Moses, but ’twas late.Besides, Cadan could do it, a decision he quickly regretted, for he’d never seen or smelled such a putrid discharge from man or beast.Good thing he hadn’t eaten much for dinner, or he’d surely have tossed it by now.
To make matters worse, the babe kicked the entire time, flinging his mess over the deck and onto Cadan’s coverlet in little splats of yuk.
Finally, he had the child wiped clean and with a new nappy Moses had made from old, discarded clothes.Yet Matthew was not impressed.Though his wail had lessoned, he continued to fuss and moan just like Cadan’s pirates had the last time he’d seen them.
He jostled the babe up and down, up and down, but to no avail.Paced back and forth across his cabin.Nothing worked.Food.Babies were hungry all the time, right?He moved to his desk and saw that Moses had left some crushed coconut meat soaked in milk.Wonderful man.Soaking the edge of the rolled cloth in the liquid, he dribbled it into Matthew’s mouth and the babe ceased his whimpering and gobbled it up.This was going to take a while, for the cloth could not hold much liquid.
Dragging a chair over to the desk, Cadan sat and continued to feed the boy until finally he seemed satisfied.“You are a big eater for one so little.”He ran a thumb over the babe’s cheek, amazed at the softness.
Matthew smiled.At least Cadan thought it was a smile.Ever so slight.Yet his blue eyes stared up at Cadan with the most innocent, dependent look.Did the child know the precarious situation he was in?On a pirate ship and hunted by a vicious man, albeit his father?Nay.All Cadan saw in those eyes were wonder and…trust.
Trust him?He didn’t deserve that, especially not from this child.
Cadan rubbed his eyes.He needed a drink and then sleep, but the babe had wrapped his tiny hand around Cadan’s finger in a death grip.The Kraken didn’t have so strong a grasp!
No matter.Rising, he laid him gently back in the chest.
When a scream blared that would wake the urchins at the bottom of the sea.
Growling, Cadan raked back his hair and picked up the lad once again, then sat down on his bed, cuddling him close.“Very well, you little tyrant.”
???
When Pell’s light rap on Cadan’s door received no response, he gently opened it and froze at the sight that met his eyes.A stream of morning sunlight swayed over the captain, fully dressed, sound asleep on his bed with the babe snuggled tight against his chest.Little Matthew, however, was wide awake, cooing and gurgling and grabbing Cadan’s chin with his chubby little hands.
Entering, Pell closed the door ever so softly and simply stood, admiring the scene.Emotions clogged his throat.Not only at the shock of seeing the fierce Captain Hayes cuddling a babe, but at the memories that tore his heart wide open.How often had he slept beside his own son, Michael, when he was a baby?How often had he nestled him close, fed him, comforted him, until they both had fallen asleep?Even as the child grew, they’d all slept together as a family—his wife, Miranda, himself, and Michael.Visions flooded his mind of Michael’s first steps, his first bite of solid food, first tooth, and first word,Nay.
Pell smiled even as tears burned in his eyes.His son had grown into a curious, happy young boy, full of life and love, a miraculous gift from God, or so Pell had thought.
The ship tilted, and Pell caught his balance as a tear escaped his eye.He swiped it away.Michael had not deserved his fate—drowned in the sea.Though it had been deemed an accident, both Pell and his wife knew foul play was afoot.Michael had been well trained to stay away from the shore, and even then, he’d been taught to swim.Something the lieutenant governor of Antigua had no way of knowing.
Pell ground his fists together, his heart thumping so loudly, he could hear it above the groan of the ship’s timbers.He should have heeded the man’s warning to leave the island, to stop his proselytizing.
But he’d trusted in God to protect them.His wife died of fever shortly afterward, but he knew she’d really died from sorrow.
The babe continued to play with Cadan’s scratchy chin as if it were a new toy.
Pell squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed away the tears.
A vision appeared.As real as if it were right in front of him.
His wife Miranda stood in a field of flowers, her dark hair blowing in the breeze.Their son, Michael was beside her, holding her hand.He was older, at least nine now.Behind them, a city of gold glimmered on a hill.They both smiled his way—smiles of complete joy and peace.Miranda nodded as she used to do when she was telling him something important.
“We are well, my love.Don’t give up.”Her whisper floated on the wind.
Pell could hardly believe his eyes.His breath heightened, and he reached out toward his family, desperate to touch them, hold them, stay with them!
But they disappeared.
He snapped his eyes open and searched the cabin.Only a dream.Or was it?He was fully awake.A vision, then?But it had seemed so real.
Trust me.
Pell fell to his knees, sobbing.Trust You?You took everything from me!
