Mystery in the Moonlight (9 page)

But Caitlin knew that climbing a mast wouldn’t be as easy as climbing a tree—not that she’d climbed any trees in more than a dozen years—even if that scoundrel of a captain would let her out of this room. Speculatively she glanced at the windowed doors that seemed to lead to a tiny, private deck at the rear of the cabin. Were they open? When the time came, would she be able to get out there and perhaps climb up on top of this cabin and get to one of the masts?

Caitlin decided to check it out.

Getting out of the bunk and crossing the few yards to the set of doors was another problem. She couldn’t stand easily, because the vessel was leaning to one side. And moving across the floor was tricky, even bracing herself on a slant with her knees locked, as she was doing, because she felt slightly disoriented. Shaking her head to clear it, Caitlin forced herself to go on, feeling a surge of triumph when she reached the double doors and they opened easily.

Still clinging to the handles, she breathed in a great gulp of sea air.

“Going somewhere?” a husky voice asked.

Startled, Caitlin let go. The doors flew inward as she whipped around to face Bryce, who was leaning against the opposite wall, arms across his chest. How had he entered without her hearing? And how long had he been watching her?

“I—I needed fresh air,” she said, realizing that it was the truth. The sea breeze seemed to have cleared her head and sharpened her faculties. “It was stuffy in here.”

“But with the wind picking up and the ship moving at eight knots, you’ll be cold in no time.” He crossed to the doors and closed them, then cracked open a window. “That should do the job if it really was fresh air you wanted. But if you were thinking of jumping ship, I’d suggest you forget it. You’d never make it to land.”

Disturbed by his nearness, Caitlin snapped, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t think of offering myself as dinner to your nasty sharks.”

Bryce’s expression lightened as he leaned toward her, steadying himself by flattening a hand against the cabin’s wall behind her. “They’re not
my
sharks. And they’re not particularly nasty. Just hungry, like all animals.”

Caitlin felt suffocated by his nearness, ashamed that she was still attracted to the scoundrel. And what did he think he was doing, anyway? she wondered, indignant that Bryce obviously was turning his charms on her. She pushed by him, trying to ignore the dizziness that swept through her at the slightest contact with him.

“Exactly what are your plans for me?”

“Until your lover ransoms you, or until you decide to cooperate, I plan on putting you to work.” Caitlin was sure that her horrified expression fueled Bryce’s hearty laughter. “Surely you have no objections to some honest work.”

“Work?” Caitlin asked, deciding to leave the “honest” part for later. “I don’t know anything about boats.”

“Ship. We took you off a boat, but this is a ship.”

“Whatever.”

“Everyone hauls his or her own weight, one way or another. There are quite a few things you can learn to do on a ship with minimal training.”

She ignored his amused tone and sat back down on the bunk to stop the dizziness she was still feeling. Did the man affect her that strongly?

Focusing on Bryce with difficulty, Caitlin said, “You’re holding me captive and you think you’re going to convince me to work for you? You’d better think again.”

“You’ll work when you’re hungry. And don’t worry,” Bryce told her, his voice low as he began unbuttoning his black shirt. “I’ll be happy to teach you whatever you need to know.”

Caitlin watched his long fingers quickly strip him of the garment, revealing curly chest hair. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready for bed,” he replied so casually, she could only raise her gaze and stare at him. “My watch starts in two and a half hours. I don’t have much time.”

“Time?” she croaked. “For what?”

“Why, sleep, of course, unless you’re anxious to begin your new duties immediately,” he said, pulling off a boot. “That’s what I like. An enthusiastic hand.”

She’d like to give him a hand! Caitlin thought, making a fist. And he wouldn’t like how or where she’d put it, either. “And just where do you propose to sleep?”

Bryce dropped his pants, and Caitlin popped up out of the bunk when he said, “Right next to you. There’s only one bunk, as I’m sure you’ve discerned. But, being a gentleman, I’m willing to share.”

“If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t believe in taking anything to the extreme.”

“Well, I do!”

Avoiding looking at Bryce—she was sure he was about to strip the skimpy briefs from his hips!—Caitlin grabbed a blanket and pillow, off his bunk before he could protest. Looking around the small cabin, she decided she could make do with a large old trunk that was pushed up against one wall.

Once on it, however, she realized her mistake. Not only was it uncomfortable with lumps and bumps sticking into her, but it was narrow too. With every pitch of the ship she chanced rolling off it. Caitlin was about to choose another spot for the night—the floor, if necessary—when Bryce changed her mind for her.

He said sleepily, “If you’re sensible, you’ll sleep right here next to me on this soft, comfortable, clean bunk.” He yawned widely. “But I presume you’re not into being sensible?” When she didn’t answer, Bryce yawned again and turned on his side. “Have a good night’s sleep, then.”

“Don’t worry, I will, Captain!” Caitlin declared, trying in vain to find a comfortable position.

Closing her eyes, she convinced herself to relax, only to catch herself from falling off the trunk with the next roll of the ship. Eyes open as she tried to maneuver herself into a more stable position, Caitlin glared at the bunk, wishing all kinds of disasters on its occupant.

Chapter Five

“Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, give us a pack of wild women and we’ll all have fun…”

Eyes opening slowly at the muffled but intrusive sound of the raspy baritone, Caitlin tried to focus on her strange surroundings. The serenade continued.

“The sharks all dance while I play my drum…”

Who was singing? And where on earth was she? The platform bunk on which she lay fitted neatly against one wood-paneled side of a compact room whose walls curved gently inward near the ceiling. A large table and several chairs stood opposite the bed. Above the table a row of narrow ship’s windows admitted light from the sunny day outside.

Ship? Suddenly she remembered. She was being held prisoner…on a pirate ship!

The details of the preceding night flooded back to her, and Caitlin felt her heart begin to pound. After Bryce had secured her in his cabin, he’d slept for a while, then left for his watch. Hoping it was safe to do so, Caitlin had moved from her uncomfortable position on the trunk into the pirate captain’s bed. But when was he coming back? It was full daylight now. Trying to extricate herself from tangled blankets, Caitlin moved jerkily, her elbow colliding with a warm, furry lump.

“Meow!” the lump complained vociferously, leaping away into the shadows.

At the same time the cabin’s outer door flew open to reveal a startling apparition. An old man stood there, his sparse white hair seeming to stand on end, his muscular arms covered with garish tattoos, and his grizzled beard intricately braided with tiny, sparkling beads. He stared at Caitlin as if
she
were the strange-looking one.

“Hey, and what’re you doing in here?” he asked with the same gruff tone he’d been using for his singing. “Have you gone and tangled with Calico Jack, then? I warn you, he’s a tough mate to cross, almost as bad as Blackbeard.”

“Meow!”

The loud yowl made Caitlin jump. Huddling in the blankets, she turned from the tattooed stranger to confront slanted green eyes glowing near the foot of the bed—green eyes that certainly didn’t belong to Bryce Winslow. Caitlin and the large calico cat stared at each other.

“Heh-heh. Like old Jack’s fancy hat?” the white-haired man asked. “He always wears one with two ears. Likes bright-colored jackets with tails too.”

Jackets? Hat? On an animal? Was this elderly guy crazy? When Caitlin moved her feet, the cat gave one last complaint, then jumped to the floor and scurried away.

“That’s it, go and get them rats, Jack. Round ’em up and I’ll boil ’em in a pan. Or maybe you’d rather have them fried. Just tell me after you catch them. Everybody has to do their job on this ship. Which reminds me,” the old man said, drawing himself up proudly. “I’m Low Tide Lars, the
Sea Devil’s
sailmaker and cook. You’re to come down to the galley with me. We’ve got fish to clean and beans to cook, maybe some serious rhyming and singing to do. Let’s see…whales, snails, bails, trails, sails…” Chanting and smiling, Lars did a little shuffling dance. “Get up, young lady, get up! There’s no time to waste laying about all day. The captain says you’re to work for your living.”

“Am I going to be allowed to live, then?” Intending to sound sarcastic, Caitlin was shocked when her voice came out in a pitiful whisper. Coughing, she tried to clear her throat.

“Oh, the captain never kills women until he makes full use of them.” The old man chuckled. Then, perhaps noting the look of fear that crossed Caitlin’s face, he sobered and said gently, “To tell the truth, the captain’s not much for killing women at all.”

Was this man actually capable of compassion? Caitlin wondered. It was hard to tell; he seemed a little balmy. Feeling braver, she told Lars, “I suppose Captain Winslow prefers to make women wish they were dead.”

“Well, he’s broken a few hearts, if that’s what you mean.”

Not knowing what to say to that remark, Caitlin tried to rise from the bunk. Her body protested the movement, and every joint and muscle seemed to be sore or aching. Smoothing down her torn and rumpled dress, she limped toward the small bathroom, or head, that opened off one side of the cabin.

Lars made no protest at her uncharted stop. He’d turned his back politely while she was getting out of bed. She heard him singing nonsense verses about mermaids and eels as she attempted to tidy herself.

After washing her face and trying to untangle her long hair with a brush she’d found on a shelf, Caitlin felt a little better. Even so, she was appalled by the ragged-looking young woman who gazed back at her from the room’s small mirror. Dark semicircles underscored her huge eyes; numerous fine red scratches decorated much of her exposed skin; and her formerly pristine white sundress hung by one narrow strap from her shoulders. She looked like a half-dead zombie.

It wasn’t that she wanted to fix herself up for her present, company’s sake, Caitlin hastily assured herself. It was simply that she thought she’d feel more positive if she cleaned herself up. And she desperately needed to feel positive.

Although she intended to try to escape when she got the chance, it would be best to let her captors think she was going along with them. She’d try to be agreeable and do the work they required of her. After all, she needed to eat. Throwing back her shoulders courageously, she entered the captain’s room again, to meet Lars’s curious gaze. He blinked and looked away, all the while humming to himself. Though he appeared relatively innocuous, could this old man mean to harm her too?

“Let’s go,” Caitlin told Lars bravely, noticing the multiple gold chains he wore around his weathered neck and the row of tiny charms dangling from his left ear. Had the jewelry been the cook’s share of bounty from pillaged ships?

“All right, little lady. The galley’s this way. You’ll probably want some grub to start with.” The old man chuckled as he led the way with his halting, bowlegged stride, then began to sing, “Rum and cornflakes, gin and beans…”

Hoping that menu wouldn’t comprise her breakfast, Caitlin followed Lars out into sunlight so bright that it made her squint. The outer deck was firm and solid beneath her feet, the ship obviously standing still. When and why had they stopped sailing? Where were they?

Glancing around, not noticing anyone else, she opened her eyes wide when she saw the rise of a hill in the near distance. They were anchored off land! Hope rising, she stopped near the ship’s rail. Should she jump into the sea and swim for it? But then she realized that the island was small, with barren beaches. It was obviously uninhabited.

“Come along now,” Lars admonished kindly. “It’s late. You’ll have to eat fast so we can set about fixing the noonday meal and swabbing the galley floor.” He motioned for her to follow him down the narrow stairway into the ship’s kitchen area. Turning backward, she started to descend when she felt strong hands encircle her waist.

“Well, if it isn’t the soiled little dove. Did you sleep well, Caitlin O’Connor…without Moreau to keep you warm?” Bryce’s deep voice was taunting as he lifted Caitlin the rest of the way to the floor.

“I slept as well as can be expected, surrounded by thieves and murderers,” Caitlin said tightly as she twisted to extricate herself from the man’s hold.

But Bryce only released her waist to swing her around into the curve of his arm. “Feisty, isn’t she, Anselm?” he remarked to his mate standing nearby. “What do you think we should do with her, since she won’t tell me anything about Moreau? Should we have her drawn and quartered? Or do you think it would be better to have her keelhauled?”

“Keelhauling is a lot of work, mon—tying her up and dragging her body under the ship,” said Anselm with a grin. “And it wouldn’t be so good for the
Sea Devil’s
new paint job, either.”