Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (61 page)

As he steamed forward once again, Nibs’ eye caught a scrap of parchment crammed beneath his door. He squatted to pry it loose, unfolding and reading it even before he straightened to stand. It was from Tom, who had borrowed a pencil and paper from Jill for just this purpose.

Mate,

The cabins on this craft are clearer than my head. See you from aloft. Then I’ll be below, too.

Nibs wadded the parchment and threw it out the window. Then, regretting his delay, he pulled open his door, thrust his hands in his pockets and assumed the privileges of LeCorbeau’s golden boy. Soon he’d be at the wheel, with the fancy Frenchman breathing down his neck. For now, he’d roam the ship with impunity, and keep an eye open for her secrets. Nibs figured if he worked it right, his opportunities would evaporate. Fast.

§ § §

Begrudging the interruption, Smee hustled Mr. Noodler from his quarters, shoving the paint pot into Noodler’s backward hands and sending the sailor on his way to perform his task. In spite of her bo’sun’s ugly mood, the
Roger
had to be kept pretty. Mr. Noodler had reported for duty, as ordered, just as Smee approached the surgeon’s door. For the first time ever, Smee cursed his crew’s reliability.

The Hanovers’ quarters were still off-limits to ship’s company. Once Noodler had clattered below decks, Smee checked that the gun deck was clear of witnesses. He thought he heard someone speaking nearby, but he waited a moment and, seeing no one, emerged from his doorway. He turned his steps toward the starboard cabin.

The restless spirit seemed quiet now. Smee reached to open the surgeon’s door. Then another kind of sound broke the silence, and Smee paused. Compelled as he felt to investigate the haunting, duty called, in the form of the ship’s bell. It pealed into the air, permeating every deck of the ship.

Smee couldn’t refuse to answer it. In any case, his shipmates poured from the galley now, and the opportunity to enter the doctor’s cabin on the sly was over. Smee felt the familiar need to tap his store of patience. However the mystery prickled, it would have to wait.

The galley disgorged the surgeon and the girl as well, and from all over the ship the company surged topside. Smee charged up the stairs, feeling for his weapon. When he reached the deck, he heard Jukes shouting from the crow’s nest. As Mullins muscled the wheel to starboard, Jukes’ tattooed arm pointed toward the bow. A ship had been sighted. A prize.

All the ship’s company marked it, then turned toward the captain to collect their orders. He balanced on a cannon, grasping the foremast shrouds. His face glowed with exhilaration. Jill leaned over the rail ahead of him, examining the ship through the spyglass. Then she, too, turned to hear the captain’s words.

“All hands! She’s a slow mover, weighted down with swag! No escort in sight. We’ll catch the wind and run her down. Fetch your weapons, mates, and man the cannons!”

The men were ready. Eager shouts followed in the wake of their captain’s words. They spun to obey, but halted as he broke into the clamor.

“Avast! I have one piece of business to set in order first.” Jumping from the cannon, Cecco smiled his gypsy smile. The medallions on his headdress flashed, his knife gleamed at his waist as he strode through the crowd. It parted to let him pass. Like the other men, Doctor Hanover had stopped and turned to look back.

When the captain neared his surgeon, he said, “I have a promise to keep.”

He shot out his arm and caught Hanover by the back of the collar. He yanked the gray coat from the surgeon’s shoulders and twisted, so that from the elbows down, the man’s arms were caught and tethered. Hanover cried out. The men gasped. Cecco shoved the struggling doctor flat to the deck, chest down. As Hanover hit the boards, the breath burst from his lungs. Cecco dropped down to kneel, one knee on the small of his prisoner’s back, pinning him. Hanover’s face filled with horror.

Cecco seized the knife from his belt. He secured the doctor’s coat under his knee and, grasping the top of Hanover’s waistcoat, he slit it. Then he clenched the knife between his teeth while his fists finished the job. The sound of rending velvet ripped the air.

The men exclaimed, staring, and Yulunga spread his arms to force the crowd back. His big black fist captured Liza’s wrist, but he simply kept it, and as she stood frozen he paid the girl no more mind. Jill drew closer to her champion, toying with her necklaces. The wind on her emerald skirts swirled against her legs. The sailors formed a circle around their captain and his victim, watching with wide open eyes.

“I warned you, Doctor. Any association between you and Red-Handed Jill ends in your disfigurement.”

“No!” Bobbing, the doctor tried to lift himself from the boards. “No, Captain! You are mistaken—”

“I am mistaken in trusting you.”

“But—”

Cecco stuck his blade in the collar of Hanover’s shirt, and the rest of the surgeon’s words were lost in the shriek of its tearing. Hanover strained to lift his body, but his arms remained imprisoned in his sleeves. The dueling scar was exaggerated, a red gash on his face. The muscles of his upper body bulged as he writhed, his back bared beneath Captain Cecco. The chill sea air wafted over his skin. The gypsy still knelt, straddling Hanover. He leaned forward.

“You claim I am mistaken. Yet my mistress now owns a piece of gold which I did not give to her.” Cecco held up his hand and splayed it, exhibiting the wedding band upon his finger. Murmurs arose as the men began to comprehend the surgeon’s transgression.

“Jill, my lovely storyteller. Can you tell your shipmates the tale of how this ring wormed its way beneath our pillow?”

The crewmen listened, eyes goggling, all silent now. Only the breeze could be heard, snapping among the sails as the ship hurtled forward, hunting down her prey.

Mr. Smee stepped forward to lodge himself by the lady’s side. He didn’t touch her. She stood pale but proud as she answered her captain in her firm, clear voice.

“No, Sir. I can’t tell how it got there. I swear to you.” As Cecco turned to the men, her eyes left her captain’s face to flicker a look toward the surgeon where he lay thrashing against the boards. As their eyes made contact, Hanover stilled, glowering, and she shook her head, just enough.

Even in his extremity, the doomed man understood. He now perceived the full meaning of the message she penned to him last night.
Believe that I do not betray you
. Hanover realized the truth. He had erred in leaving the ring. He’d meant it to symbolize the consummation of his passion, but it served also to condemn. His vanity, not his lady, had betrayed him.

Cecco’s cold voice held no mercy. “Mr. Yulunga. Show the men.”

At these words, Hanover’s brow creased in perplexity. Liza’s head shot up, and she stared at her captor. Still restraining her, Yulunga produced the evidence and raised it. “Here, Sir. Broken strands of rope, found caught between your aft windows. And here…a vial of medicine.”

Amid the exclamations of his men, Cecco nodded. “While I was away last night, you climbed a rope to my lady’s window. You arranged for her to drink your sleeping potion. I am certain that every man aboard can guess what
else
you did to her, when you found her, lying all alone and helpless…in my bed.” His knee bored into the surgeon’s back. “Now, once again, I will pay out your earnings, Doctor Hanover.” Gripping his knife, he raised up his hand, and, without hesitation, lowered it to the flesh of Hanover’s back.

Smee abandoned caution. His brawny arms encircled the lady’s waist. But she didn’t require his support. Her eyes, hard as sapphires, never looked away from the surgeon. To the letter, she had honored her accord with Captain Cecco. Now, Cecco honored his word to her. To the letter.

And when her captain finished his carving, four bright characters spelled out her name. In pretty red ink.

Chapter 25

Findings and Takings

D
ragged between Smee and Yulunga, the surgeon stumbled down the steps. His back ran warm with blood, the tatters of his shirt drooped on his arms. Trying to stem the groans, he clenched his teeth and closed his throat. He didn’t consider where they were taking him until Smee’s voice raised the question, and then Hanover’s mind succumbed to the panic he had so far fended off.

“No need to be using the shackles today.”

“That is sure. He’ll keep to his bunk.”

Hanover twisted within their grasps, feeling the fresh flow of blood as he struggled. Tightening his grip, Smee spoke sharply to Yulunga. “No, mate. We’re not to enter his quarters. Let’s be stowing him in his work room, and he can fend for himself.”

Grateful for this stroke of luck, Hanover subsided as the men hauled him toward the spare cabin. His secret was safe— for the moment.

“With a prize about, I’ll not be finding time to stitch him up.” Smee kicked the door open, and neither he nor Yulunga felt a need to be gentle as they dumped Hanover on the bunk. “Not that I’m inclined to lift a finger, mind.”

Yulunga snorted. “Who’s to doctor the doctor?” But his black eyes found her, just outside the door.

Like a wraith, Liza had followed. Now she hovered on the threshold, her hands kneading a lump of gray velvet. Men gathered on the gun deck behind her, stripping off their shirts and hauling on the tackle. Voices raised and boxes of shot grated along the floor. A certain savagery animated the girl’s eyes as she beheld her father, and even in her mauve dress with her hair tucked up in its net, Liza appeared not so very out of place among the pirates.

Smee eyed her. “You’ll be needing some things, then.” As he exited, she backed from him. “Come along, and be quick about it.” He headed to his quarters to gather up his mending box. Liza launched a look at Yulunga, who squinted at her.

“You’re to stay below.” His gaze scoured the girl from head to toe, and his smirk, when it formed, was rank with privilege. “We don’t want you damaged— until you’re ready.” He struck one of his earrings with a thumb. Liza saw it bob, but her gaze fastened on the manacle mark encircling his wrist. Yulunga grunted his amusement, then spared a glance for the surgeon.

Prostrate and clutching at the blankets, the man looked daggers at the mate, but he lay on his stomach, unable to summon breath to object. Yulunga ducked under the doorway to tramp to his captain’s side.

Smee met the girl at his door. “You’ll be finding what you’re needing here— needles, twine, a knife. Rags. Rum’s in the galley. Tell Cook I sent you for it.” Thrusting the box in her arms, he turned again to collect his weapons, and then he elbowed his way through the rowdy gunners as they primed and fed the cannons.

Within minutes, the
Roger
was ready to attack. It took Liza a little longer to prepare herself to fix her father.

§ § §

Under the emblem of the Union Jack, the resistance was disorganized. With her rudder shot away and her foremast in splinters, the prize was nearly secure. Cecco raised his boot and shoved his opponent, a merchant officer. The man dropped his sword, staggering away. Striding to starboard, the pirate captain kicked a knife from a smallish white hand, then he hunkered down and hauled the cabin boy from beneath a cannon barrel. Cecco faced the combatants, gripping the boy’s throat with one hand while flourishing his cutlass in the other. The clamor died down as the
Unity
surrendered, only to start up again with the clatter of swords hitting the deck, followed by hearty hurrahs from pirate throats. Over the shouting came a chopping sound. Then, fluttering downward, the colors of the Union Jack were struck.

“Now tell me, my noble young man. Which of these gentlemen is your captain?”

The youth trembled inside his uniform, but tried to hide it. “The cap—” His voice broke and he had to swallow first. “The captain’s abed, Sir, in his quarters.”

“Under the covers? Has he better company than us?” Cecco’s men laughed with him. When the boy seemed unable to reply, the pirate shook him. The golden jewelry jangled.

“He’s ill, Sir.”

Cecco frowned. “Nothing catching, I hope?”

“No, Sir. No quarantine. Pneumonia, says our surgeon.”

“Ah! And is he alone?”

“The surgeon wouldn’t allow him to fight, Sir. He’s tending to him.”

“Good. You will take me to your captain.”

The boy darted a look to his officers. To a man, they nodded at him, the most vigorous affirmative coming from the first mate, in the grip of a huge African wielding a boarding ax. Regret marked their defeated faces. The
Unity
’s officers found themselves in no position to protect the boy. He understood their dilemma. He was the captain’s nephew. As if fortified by the reminder, the boy squared his shoulders and met the pirate’s eyes. “This way, Captain.”

Cecco smiled and released him. “Mr. Yulunga! Secure the prisoners and throw open the holds.” He turned to starboard and raised his hand to his mouth to whistle at the
Roger
, and at his shrill command the crewmen there fell to hoisting block and tackle.

At the base of the
Roger
’s mainmast, a lady waited. Her fair hair blew in the breezes and her emerald skirt clung to her. A flush of excitement adorned her cheeks.

Cecco shouted across the chasm. “Permission to board.”

Jill came forward and Mason handed her a pulley. He opened the gangway and steadied her as she stepped to the edge. Then, smiling, she shoved off to sail over the water with her green skirt rippling behind her.

The vanquished crew of the
Unity
gawked at the apparition. Even the most seasoned of her sailors had never witnessed such a sight. A flesh-and-blood angel soared toward them, almost flying, to be caught up in the swarthy brigand’s embrace. Her laugh played like music as he circled her around, joy strange to hear at the gloomy end of a battle. Yet only as she opened her hand to release the pulley did they fully realize she wasn’t the pirate’s hostage, nor did she seek freedom aboard their vessel.