The Bride of Blackbeard (13 page)

The hole from the cannonball filled with
water as the battle on the upper deck raged on.

The crew of the
Adventure
had
overtaken the
Memorial
and unwittingly destroyed part of
their booty via the blast. Kegs of rum rolled into the waves as the
deck tipped closer and closer to the surface of the water.

The captain of the
Adventure
charged
the first mate of the
Memorial
and plunged his sword into
the man’s torso with deadly skill and accuracy. He turned,
searching for
his
first mate. He pulled double pistols from
his bandoliers and finished off the only remaining member of the
Memorial
crew in a few seconds time.

“Salvage the cargo!” he bellowed. The crew
scurried like bilge rats at the sound of his voice.

He had given the
Memorial
’s crew the
option of surrender. In that case, he would have plundered the
cargo and marooned them. But the proud fools had chosen to
fight.

~ * ~

In the storm Abernathy sat waiting by the
harbor, watching the
Adventure
, which had docked hours
earlier. He wrung his hands at the thought of concluding this
deplorable assignment. He’d been following said captain for greater
than six months to date, bearing witness to many suspicious
circumstances, such as his ships leaving port and returning with
all manner of cargo. This would be followed shortly by stories from
the locals. Reports about ships that were expected to dock soon,
having been raided by pirates only days before their arrival at the
Banks.

Almost at the end of this assignment, it
couldn’t come fast enough. His heart longed to return to Virginia,
and his life and post there, which undoubtedly led to why he was
going to take this risk tonight.

The sound of the crew dispersing echoed in
the night. The last of the seamen finally departed the vessel down
the plank to the harbor proper. Five minutes later, Hornigold
quickly ascended the plank onto the ship. Being an expert sailor,
he lowered himself swiftly into the hull and wandered through the
dark as he lit a candle.

Rum.

His grandmother’s voice echoed in his head:
‘Devil’s drink.’

Barrels and barrels of rum lined the ship’s
cargo hold. There was a dank, rotting smell underneath it all he
found disquieting. He began to search through the rows of barrels,
not quite sure what he was looking for.

As he took his next step an accompanying
squish and the feel of something soft underfoot caused him to leap
into the air and knock his head on a beam. He whisked the candle
down so fast he feared it would extinguish. A pool of rum leaked
onto the floor. Afloat in it were at least twelve dead rats. The
stench was so great he juggled the candle and almost caught himself
on fire. Gingerly stepping over the rotten mess, he was alerted to
sounds on deck.

Voices overhead. Drunken men. Men descending
into the hold.

“Blast,” he whispered to himself,
extinguishing the light.

“Well, sir, I was wonderin’ when Mr.
Drummond, Mr. Thrumble, and Mr. Thatch are going to be in port? I
have seen all their wives and their middles are all about to whelp
at the same time as far as I can tell!” said a surly, slurring
voice.

“I care not for any of those men, as my only
concern is for the desire of my eyes... Miss Katrina Smythe of
Hawthorne House. I believe she will be mine in matrimony by the end
of the month, if not in flesh before then!”

“Oh ye are a sly dog with the womenfolk—you
are always gone a gal-in.”

Abernathy moved back, crouched behind a
stack of barrels, and held his breath as they passed his row.

~ * ~

Constanza turned
again
attempting to
focus the boys’ attention on the math lesson. It was painfully slow
going this afternoon.

She assessed her students. Ben stared out
the window into the field, probably watching for his father. Will
worked on the problem, but she could see beside him on the desk a
drawing of the new horse they had recently acquired, now in the
barn. Then there was Lucas. The boy’s attitude was that he should
receive the best grades, as his father paid her salary. But she
showed no prejudice and graded him on par with the other boys. They
were all about the same grade of student, and they were all
boys
through and through.

They wanted to ride horses and swing from
the rope in the barn into the hay,
much
more than learn
French or writing. She understood this and tried to keep the
lessons interesting for them, but today even her best efforts
failed.

“All right, boys, I think we will end a
little early today.”

Before she’d finished the sentence they were
out the door, probably afraid she would reconsider. Smiling to
herself, she shook her head.

~ * ~

A post rider handed Lucian a package as he
stood on the front pizzer of their cottage. She lifted up her
skirts, showing her boots. Running toward him, he laughed out loud
at her and shook his head. She was happy he found her
unconventional behavior comical, and she believed him when he told
her it was one of the reasons he loved her.

“What is it?” she said breathlessly.

“I don’t know. It is addressed to you, Miss
Smythe.”

“That is Mrs. Blackwell to you, sir.”

She took the package and shook it. “Maybe my
Uncle Ellwood forwarded me one of my books. Oh! I do hope as I miss
them all so much.”

She tore it open and froze.

Lucian, rocking in one of the many chairs
littering the porch, stopped. “What?”

She didn’t reply. She extracted a necklace
from the box and held it up for him to see. A diamond gemstone
dangled at the end of it. As she held it, it swayed back and forth
in the breeze.

Inside, they sat facing one another at the
table. Each one as cross as the other with the content of the
letter, which now lay between them like a line drawn in the
sand.

“Miss Smythe,

“I know you have told me you have married
that farmer, but I refuse to accept this. Here is a token of my
deep and abiding wish for you to consent to be my wife. I told ye
before that I could attend to your financial needs in no uncertain
terms. It is no feat to have more money than a sharecropper, one
step above an indentured servant.

“I beg you to reconsider. If you do not,
please keep the necklace to remind you of me. When I see you wear
it, I will know you are thinking of me when you look at him.

“Yours,

“Edward Teache”

After reading it again, Lucian dropped it on
the table. “Stanzy, darling, you cannot be serious.”

“Do you know how much I could buy for Megan
with this? I will sell it and use the money to help her.”

“No. I do not feel right about it.
Everything about him, including this trinket is…
vile
. No
good will come from it.”

She stared at him for a while. Stanzy didn’t
believe it was jealousy on which he based this decision, but that
he truly believed Teache wicked.

“All right, I will find the address of his
beloved Hammock House and send it back to him.”

~ * ~

Katrina sat waiting on the window seat,
staring out into the darkness. Edward was late, which she was
accepting as the norm for him. The man more than made up for it
with his gifts and exciting places he whisked her off to, removing
her far away from the demands of being a governess.

If she married him, she just
knew
a
life of adventure awaited her...after all, he was forever traveling
and surely he would take her occasionally on his merchant trips, so
she could see the world he spoke to her about. Her image reflected
back to her from the window and she admired her long curls. Her
long-lashed eyes fell to the locket Edward had given her. It shone
and glimmered whenever she was in the sunlight.

Katrina contemplated the idea of giving
herself to him, even though they were not yet wed. She smiled
slightly, thinking of her sister's mortification, but she wanted to
assure Edward's love, and so what if she did become pregnant? Well,
then he would certainly have to stay with her, wouldn’t he? And she
was sure he could afford a governess for the child, and then she
would be free—free from the job she despised, and into a life of
excitement!

Yes. With his next advance, she wouldn’t
protest as she had previously. The act would be her insurance
policy. And deep down, the fact that Edward chose her over Stanzy,
made the match all the more sweet.

The clippety-clop of horses' hooves as the
carriage passed through Hawthorne House gates awoke her from her
reverie as Dear Edward approached. It was true, he wasn’t as young
or as handsome as some of her other suitors, but in him she
imagined security.

~ * ~

The priest made his way into the apartment
with a flourish, followed by two altar boys dragging incense tins
on chains, swinging menacingly about behind them. Muttering
incantations in Latin, he walked toward Megan who trembled
uncontrollably at the sight of him. The tiny girl clung to Bess
with all of her might.

“Please, the smell of that will drive her
wild, and the bell...please do not hit that bell...she cannot stand
loud noises.”

~ * ~

At her teacher’s desk, Stanzy examined the
boys’ most recent writings and smiled. Their studies progressed
well, and her chest filled with pride for each one of their
accomplishments. Looking out the window, the sun was low in the
sky. A lump formed in her throat as she realized Lucian hadn’t
returned for her. He was never late.

After a lifetime of hardship, her mind was
suspicious of happiness. As if to say ‘you do not deserve it,’ or
‘it will not last.’

You know you will never be truly happy. You
are cursed. You do not need Edward Teache for that. Everything and
everyone you touch will be doomed.

She forced the thoughts back into her
mind-box, and swallowed the bile rising to the back of her throat.
“You are being ridiculous,” she chastised herself aloud.

Walking to the window to view the main
house, she saw shadows dancing violently in the window. It was
Megan’s room.

“Oh, no. What now? Can’t they just leave the
child alone?” she said to the wind as she sprinted toward the
mansion.

Opening the servant’s door to Megan’s
apartment, she was just in time to see Lucian’s fist connect with
Hopkins’ chin. His thin body fell to the floor with a whump, and
didn’t stir.

The priest's expression was grim as he
stooped and quickly started gathering his belongings.

“I told you she is sick!” Lucian bellowed,
an uncharacteristic savageness in his eyes and voice. His hands
shook as if with palsy, as he strode over to Hopkins who was
rousing on the floor. Hands pumping, he stood glaring down at Ian's
stirring frame.

“I will have you thrown in jail! You
impetuous glorified farm hand!” shrieked Mrs. Hopkins, launching
her tiny frame at Lucian. “I do not know why my ridiculous father
favored you so!”

Ian Hopkins gained his footing, balled his
fist and blindsided Lucian who was holding Mrs. Hopkins at arm’s
length. Lucian toppled backward, feet kicking out and upending a
pot by the fire.

Fists, blood and spit and every cuss ever
uttered filled the air of the child’s apartment.

“Stop it! Both of you! You are upsetting her
even more!” yelled Stanzy from the floor, where she crawled her way
around the fight to cradle the bawling girl in her arms.

“Stop!” an unfamiliar voice called.

Everyone in the room froze as all heads
turned toward the fireplace hearth.

“Stop, please,” said Megan in a voice no
louder than a murmur this time. A tear cut its track down her dirty
cheek.

Stanzy burst into tears, and saw Bess was
hiccupping sobs. Even Sarah's eyes shone with unshed tears. Ian
Hopkins fell to his knees and cradled his head, but Lucian...
Lucian just smiled. Even as the blood trickled from the side of his
mouth, he made no move to wipe it. His face gleamed with the
expression of a proud father.

“There’s my girl. Don't you go away again,”
he whispered.

~ Chapter Eight ~

The baby wouldn’t stop crying. Stanzy lifted
Will from his pram and held his tiny body close to her chest when
she realized the child burned with fever.

“
Oh no, oh no,” she said, performing
a
balancing
act of
holding him on her
shoulder and stoking the fire at the same time.

He wailed in protest at the adjustment in
her arms.

“
Shh! Shh!” she consoled as teardrops
dribbled to her cheeks. Cradling Will again, she pelted down the
hall to her father's room, the familiar smell of stale spirits made
her quiver with anger.

“
Father! Father, please wake up. It’s
Will, he is sick. He is burning up.” She tried to rouse him with
one hand. He didn’t stir.

Her chest heaved and hiccupped out of
control. Laying the baby at the foot of the bed, she shook her
father with both hands. “Daddy! You good for nothing drunkard! The
son you have always wanted is sick and he is going to die just like
Mama if you do not help me!”

Katrina entered the room and attached
herself to Stanzy's leg, her bawling adding to the orchestra of
pain.

“
Daddy, please,” Stanzy said without much
hope now.

Leaving the room, dragging her sister on her
leg behind her, she tried to keep Will as covered as possible. All
three cried in unison as they descended the steps to the
kitchen.

~ * ~

Constanza shakily sat up in bed, drenched in
sweat.

Lucian quickly wrapped his arms around her.
He whispered sleepily, “It was another nightmare. You are safe with
me now.”