Captive Secrets (30 page)

Overhead, the branches of the lush breadfruit tree rustled. Fury peered upward into Gaspar's glittering gaze. “I don't know what to do,” she whispered. Her eye sought the sun as she tried to calculate how long it would take her to ride horseback into town. If she went by way of the cove, she might make the harbor at high tide.

Juli watched her mistress from the kitchen window. “It's better than nothing,” she mumbled as she dropped the pieces of chicken into the boiling water. If Fury's God was on her side, she'd arrive in town with minutes to spare.

Fury gave no mind to her appearance as she spurred Starlight through the trampled jungle path. Within minutes her hair was free of its pins, streaming behind her in damp tendrils. Overhead, the hawks kept pace with her, working the air as they flew directly in her path. The horse's galloping hooves beat to the rhythm of her heart's refrain: Why am I doing this, why? Why?
Why?

Because I damn well want to! She answered at last. I don't care if he thinks me wanton. He stirred something in me, something I've never felt before.

Juli was right, she could do whatever she pleased until the moment she walked through the gates of the convent. And this damn well pleased her. Telling Luis her thoughts concerning the impostor—even apologizing to him for her mother—was just an excuse. She wanted to see him again. She needed to say good-bye.

An hour later she was within walking distance of the cove. From there she led Starlight on foot to save her strength for the hard ride along the sandy beach and then back through the jungle to the harbor.

The sound of voices coming from the beach carried to her ears. She noticed then that the hawks had worked their way down and were perched on Starlight's saddle, their dark eyes sparkling in the sun. Fury brought the horse up short and strained to hear what was being said down below. Juli's brothers must have brought her ship back to the cove, she decided. Thank God, the
Rana
was safe—safe, providing Luis Domingo kept his word. She was about to call out when she heard loud cursing in what sounded like Portuguese. Instantly she tethered the horse, then set out, crouching low as she scrambled down the familiar terrain.

The blazing sun was beginning to make her light-headed. The jungle sounds were quiet now, evidence that someone was walking about. Would they recognize the signs of an alien presence? When there was no break in the conversation, Fury sighed in relief, then cautioned herself to move stealthily.

Panting with her efforts to remain unnoticed, she peered below for her first glimpse of the
Rana
—and sucked in her breath at the sight before her eyes. The black ship loomed ahead like a specter, but it wasn't
her
black ship. How . . . ?

Was this the ship Luis Domingo had seen? Or had he sighted the
Rana
herself? It had been scant hours since her frigate had sailed down the river. Suddenly she grew angry. Why should she be so surprised to see the impostor's ship here? she asked herself caustically. If Luis Domingo had figured out her hiding place, certainly the Sea Siren's impersonator could have done the same. After all, it was the perfect—if not the only—sanctuary in the vicinity. So much for thinking herself clever at covering her tracks.

Fury squinted to observe the ship more closely. Armed. A good-size crew if the number of men on deck was any indication. Where was the captain? Below decks, obviously. Should she stay in hiding to observe movement, or . . . . She cast a critical eye at the sun. If she wanted to see Luis, she would have to leave now. But if she wanted to discover the identity of the impostor, she would have to remain.

Moments later Fury had reached a decision. She wasn't meant to see Luis again—circumstances dictated but one course of action. She wasn't leaving here until she saw the infamous poseur with her own eyes.

Settling herself behind the dense jungle growth, Fury waited, the sun beating down on her with a vengeance. Her mouth was parched, her wet clothes drying on her back. She brushed at hundreds of insects determined to suck her blood. She was itching from head to toe. If only she could slip into the cool cove water. But no, she had to think, to plan. . . . If the impostor had sailed up the River of Death, she was as apt as the real Sea Siren. And would be equally adept at sailing with the tide, unless ... unless . . .
The mouth of the river had to be blocked.

One clenched fist pounded the soft, loamy ground, releasing black specks and bits of greenery. A loud squawk of outrage from a jungle bird permeated the air. Immediately the men below quieted. Fury held her breath.

The voice she was waiting to hear was husky, alluring. Sultry. Fury parted the thick emerald leaves. “A jungle parrot,” the woman sneered. “The same kind of jungle bird that gave me this!” She brandished her left arm for all to see.

Fury clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. No wonder Luis and the others had mistaken her for the Sea Siren. She wore an identical outfit, had the same long, streaming, dark hair, and had a scar on her arm that obviously passed for her mother's. With one crucial exception: the impostor's scar was on her left arm, whereas her mother's and her own were on the right.

But she was beautiful, Fury admitted. Achingly, gloriously beautiful. With the sun glittering down on the deck of the black ship, she looked like a golden goddess. Fury could see the men leering at her, but with one murderous glance she sent them back to their game of cards. Fury inched her way backward, grasping at vines and leaves to prevent herself from sliding forward.

Juli was waiting for her at the stable when she returned. In a choked voice she told the housekeeper what she'd just seen. “Did Father Sebastian leave?” she asked.

“Hours ago. Why?”

“I wanted to tell him to alert the Dutch East India Company. The mouth of the river has to be blocked. There's no other way for the impostor to get her ship out. None of them would last a day in the jungle on foot. I have to bathe and go into town. This will finally clear my mother's name. I can hardly believe it.”

“You realize you missed Señor Domingo's departure, don't you?” Juli demanded as they walked back into the house.

“What would you have me do, Juli? I did my best. I thought it more advantageous to find out what I could about that miserable woman. She's in the
Rana's
cove, don't you understand? I must warn the governors about her.”

“I suppose so,” Juli said reluctantly. “At least we no longer have to worry about the two men Mynheer Dykstra's had watching the house. They left at midafternoon. I suppose now that he has no chance of being made governor, Dykstra's lost interest in playing detective and building up his reputation at your expense.”

Fury looked at Juli and grinned. “It's almost too bad, in a way. I was looking forward to using that balcony. . . .”

The town was dark when Fury reined in her horse at the parish house. She was on the ground in an instant, straightening her dress and smoothing back stray tendrils of hair that escaped the knot on top of her head. She strode off briskly toward the harbor, hoping against hope that the
Silver Lady
would still be at the wharf. Her heart sank at the sight of the empty slip.

“Looking for someone, little lady?” asked the harbormaster, coming up behind her. Fury whirled to find a kind looking old man with pure white hair staring at her with concern.

“The
Silver Lady?
Did she sail with the tide?”

“Aye, that she did. It was a busy hour this night. The governors left, as did Mynheer Dykstra. Man up and resigned his post—just like that.”

Fury bit down on her lower lip. “I suspected he might. Are the offices empty?” she asked.

“Aye, and they'll remain closed until the new manager arrives. That's what the sign in the window says,” the harbormaster said jovially.

“A poor way of doing business, if you ask me,” Fury said tartly. “When my father was manager of the company, the doors were never closed.”

The harbormaster shrugged. “It's getting late, little lady. You best be getting indoors before some of these scurvy seamen mistake you for one of ... well, before they think Clarice let you out for a stroll. I'll walk with you if you have a destination in mind,” he offered.

“The parish house,” Fury said, looking about her curiously. Sure enough, she noticed a few seamen here and there, watching her with open interest. The same kind of seamen she'd seen in the cove.

When Fury knocked at the parish house door, Father Sebastian received her with stunned surprise. What young lady traveled about in the darkness doing God only knew what? Furana seemed to make a habit of it.

“What is it, child?” he asked, alarmed. “What's happened?”

Fury babbled then, the way the parrot in the kitchen did the moment his cage cover was removed. “So you see, Father,” she concluded, “I can't alert the burghers. They will block the entrance to the river, and while it will seal the impostor's ship in the cove, it means I will never be able to return the
Rana
to her resting place. I don't think my mother would ever forgive me if I allowed that to happen. Oh, I truly don't know what to do. On the way into town I was convinced blocking the mouth of the river was the only sensible thing to do. Now the thought seems ridiculous. What am I to do?”

“Child, I wish I knew,” the priest said wearily. “It all seems like a bad dream.”

“Father,” Fury said softly, her voice tinged with regret, “Luis—Señor Domingo was gone when I finally arrived at the harbor. Do you . . . were you there when he left?”

The old priest nodded. “I gave his ship and two others my blessing before they set out to sea. I don't believe sufficient stores were loaded on any of them. Mynheer Dykstra sailed his own ship. There was a diamond merchant with him, and a fine dandy he was. The governors, too, set sail, with much fanfare. At the last moment there was a delay when a young seaman left Mynheer Dykstra's ship and asked to sign on the
Silver
Lady. Mynheer Dykstra was most upset when the man refused to sail with him. But Senor Domingo was the first to leave.” Father Sebastian spread his hands wide. “I'm sorry, Furana, I have nothing else to tell you.”

“I'm going around in circles,” Fury muttered. “Why is it so hard for me to make a decision? I feel that the impostor is going to attack Señor Domingo's ship . . . needlessly, Father, because the diamond merchant is now carrying the gems himself, aboard Mynheer Dykstra's ship.” She shook her head in confusion. “Oh, it's all happened too quickly.”

“If Luis Domingo doesn't have the diamonds, he can't very well produce them for the impostor. All he has to do is tell her they're on Mynheer Dykstra's ship.” The priest rubbed his gnarled fingers to ease the pain. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Delay my . . . plead my case with the Mother Superior by way of the archbishop. If I sail after Señor Domingo, there is no guarantee I'll be able to return in time to enter the convent. I don't even know where Juli's brothers have hidden the
Rana.
It could take days for them to return and that much time again to set sail. Señor Domingo will have too much of a head start. A spell of bad weather could delay me even more. Will you intervene, Father?” she pleaded.

“I'll do my best, child,” Father Sebastian promised.

“That's all I ask,” Fury said, relieved. “If things don't work out, if I'm denied entrance to the convent for some reason, then I'll have to take it as a sign from God that I'm not to pursue my vocation.”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable to me.” He wanted to beg her to stay the night, knowing full well no lady ever traveled alone in darkness—on horseback, no less. But this lady, so like her mother, did not follow the rules of propriety. And she was obviously determined to return to the casa.

“Thank you so much for listening to me, Father,” Fury said, walking with him to the front door. “I feel much better now. I'll have Juli or one of the other servants apprise you of whatever I decide to do.”

The night was inky black with a sprinkling of stars overhead. The sultry breeze blowing off the ocean tickled Fury's cheeks and neck. The streets were quiet, the houses dark. For the first time she became aware of the late hour and the long ride looming ahead of her. She'd come to town on a fool's errand, but how was she to know the Dutch East India Companys' manager had sailed on the tide along with Luis Domingo and the governors? Why had they left so soon? she wondered. Her father had told her they sometimes stayed for months at a time. And Dykstra—how strange that he should leave on such short notice. Did he simply plan to abandon his house and his holdings in Batavia? Did he plan to return? Who was to succeed him in the Dutch East India Company's offices? Why had the governors closed the offices?