The Noble Pirates (26 page)

These were the things that plagued me in my solitude, waiting for Howel to return to me and rescue me from my thoughts.

In between his visits to the town to sell his goods, Howel retreated to our room in the governor’s home and into bed – with me. I was usually going crazy with cabin fever by the time he got back, and my mood fluctuated between thrilled to see him, jealous at his freedom, and anxious for the future. I would often jump him like a horny teenager the moment he walked in the door, then become sullen and combative afterward, resentful that he would have to leave me again in the morning. There was no question about it: the women of the eighteenth century got a raw deal.

One night several weeks into our stay in São Nicolau, Howel arrived at my door drunk and disheveled late at night, leaning heavily against Walter Kennedy and smelling distinctly of perfume. He and his “officers” Walter and Thomas had taken to calling themselves “The House of Lords,” and after selling their goods in the town would carouse with their crew, drinking, and from what I heard from those catty Portuguese women, visiting the brothels. The moment Walter left, Howel tried to take me into his arms. I dodged him, a hand firmly against his chest.

“Don’t,” I said icily, “even consider it.”

Howel’s eyebrows shot up. “Eh? What’s the matter, lass?” he hiccuped, swaying on his feet.

“You smell like a two-bit whore, that’s what’s the matter,” I replied, the fury building within me. “God, Howel, I hate sounding like a shrew, but I’ve been closed up all day in this room, trying to avoid Fabia and her boring friends, and I think I may go crazy!”

“I’m sorry for it, Sabrina,” Howel slurred, trying to pull me to him by my waist. I once again stopped him.

“You never answered why you smell like a two-bit whore,” I said through my teeth. “I don’t want to catch any venereal diseases, thank you very much!” I hadn’t missed the way every woman in the place, genteel or otherwise, looked at him, the dashing English captain who had an air of danger – of piracy – about him. They were utterly titillated by him, and he did nothing to discourage them, smiling and bowing graciously at each as though she were the Queen herself, and the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Howel’s eyes widened innocently. “‘Pon my soul, ‘twasn’t me, Sabrina. ‘Twas Walter and Thomas. I simply accompanied them. I’ve no interest in that, not when I’ve got this – ” he stroked my face with his finger – “waiting for me here.” He smiled at me, that Howel smile, his eyes crinkling adorably, and I felt my defenses wilt as the desire to nuzzle his neck overcame me. Son of a
bitch
. He was so good at this game, so good at getting people to do what he wanted… Before I knew it, he had me in the bed and was pinning me down, dragging his lips along my throat, my collarbone, his rough palms on my breasts, my hips.

I was completely, utterly his, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

As I lay curled up against him later that night, his arm around me, I said softly, “I would stay like this forever, if I could.”

He rubbed his face in my hair. “I thought you grew weary of this place, of the life of a gentlewoman.” He chuckled. “We’ve made a wanderer of you, lass.”

“I do grow weary of it,” I replied. “But I would stand it, if it meant keeping you from a life of piracy, from a certain fate.”

“We can’t stay here, even if I wished to,” Howel said. “Agostinho’s generosity will start to wane, and his suspicions will be roused if the good Captain Reed does not set sail once his goods have all been sold.” His hand stroked my hip mindlessly. “The men love it here. ‘Tis an island of pleasure. The drink runs freely, the women are more than willing, and the place itself is lovely. They’ll be hard-pressed to leave it.”

“Let’s go back to the Caribbean,” I said hopefully.

“Sabrina, there ain’t nothing for me there, you know that,” Howel said with a sigh. “Nothing but the hangman’s noose.”

I pushed myself up on an elbow. “Then somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from Prince Island, for God’s sake.”

Howel looked at me without seeing me, and I could tell he was thinking about his death, his mortality. Strange, the look he got on his face when thinking about it – more pensive and curious than fearful, sort of like he hadn’t fully come to grips with it yet. He knew, better than anyone, that he could die at any point, since his life was already full of risk as it was. To put a date on it, well… It was different than dealing with terminal illness, because he had never been more alive, more vibrant in his life. And, of course, there was always the chance that the book was wrong, that he could escape the fate I had made him believe waited for him.

“Howel,” I said, interrupting both our thoughts. “If I knew how to get back to 2011… Would you come with me?”

Howel shifted his body to face me. “How now? Are you saying you know how to get back?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t.” I hesitated, wondering how best to explain it to him. “A witch doctor in Nassau told me a pirate, a black pirate, got here the same way I did and knew the way back. She said he would come to me.”

Howel processed this information. “Is this witch doctor to be trusted?”

“She knew who I was, where I was from,” I replied. “The first time I went to her, she knew why I was there before I told her.”

Howel pursed his lips thoughtfully. “A black pirate? Who’d come to you, eh?” Then he looked at me and smiled wistfully. “You’ll be leaving me, then?”

“No,” I said fiercely. “I was asking… I want you to come back with me.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Go back with you? You ain’t serious, are you, lass?”

“I am,” I said. “Think about it. You would be safe. You would be with me.”

He blinked, shook his head. “Two thousand eleven is very different than now, ain’t it? I’d be like a blind man there, like a man who be daft in the head, no?”

“Well, for a little while, I guess,” I said. “It would be an adjustment. But the same way I can adjust to being here, you can adjust to being there. Life is much easier, much more luxurious.”

Howel got a funny look on his face. “And your husband? What would you tell him? That you brought your pirate lover back with you from the past?” He laughed. “So then I’d be both daft and unable to touch you? Nay, thankee. I’ll stay here and take me chances.”

I tightened my jaw. “Then what? You’ll let me leave you?”

He responded by cupping my face in his hands tenderly. “Perhaps once upon a time I would have told you to go back to your family, but now? Now I am embracing the life of the selfish brigand entirely, and now I say you are mine, and that you should stay with me.” He smiled, but his eyes hardened a bit. “I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, and I want you to spend it with me, self-seeking bastard that I am.”

It was what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear. I twined my arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily, and he responded in kind, his arms tight around me, his mouth pushing against mine.

I would not leave him, not until I was sure he was safe. And even then, there was a good chance I still wouldn’t leave him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was time to go.

  “Me men are getting soft,” Howel said to me, chuckling to himself after a final audience with Governor Agostinho. “I must remind them of what they are, lest they get too used to this easy life.”

The
Buck
set sail, despite its loss of five men, who had fallen in love with the island – as well as its women – and chosen to settle there. With some fifty men crammed into his fast little sloop, Howel set his sights on Maio, also among the Cape Verde Islands. “We ain’t pretending to be gentlemen this time around, Sabrina,” he told me. “Dress in your boy’s clothes and keep to the cabin.”

I raised my chin defiantly. “I will
not
,” I replied. “I will fight alongside you.”

Howel shook his head and rolled his eyes, huffing in frustration. “Dammit, woman! Do you realize – I’d go mad if something happened to you!”

I smiled. “And I’d go mad if something happened to you. Better to be useful than sit in the cabin biting my nails down to the quick.”

“You know nothing will happen to me. I am ‘pistol-proof,’ say me men.” He grinned audaciously. “So long as I stay away from Prince Island.”

I would not be swayed. “Your reasoning is flawed, but never mind. So long as you put yourself at risk, I will be beside you.” I smiled at him and saw that my bravado made him angry. He seemed to debate between yelling at me and kissing me, frustration and desire fighting in his expression.

“You…” He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw. He cradled my head in his hand, tilting it so that I looked up at him. “You stay alive, lass. I must command this ship of brigands or be marooned for a coward, for an impotent leader. If you follow me into battle, I cannot ensure your safety. I need you to keep yourself alive. You hear me?”

I nodded, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. “You too.”

He gazed at me grimly, and after a moment of silence said, “You are about to see a side of me you ain’t never seen, Sabrina. It’ll be ugly, to be sure, lass. Those French ships were a bit o’ luck, and we haven’t had to face serious adversity yet. The villain in me must emerge when the fight begins, and I can only hope you still feel for me then, after you’ve seen it, the way you do now.”

I laughed, a bit nervously. “Of course I will. I love you.”

He nodded, unsmiling. “Remember, then, what you love about me, when you see what I am capable of doing.”

Oh.

Whatever. I was certain he wasn’t capable of anything worse than Edward England had been. Or at least, I hoped not.

Maio proved to be a trove of merchant ships awaiting capture. The first was the English brigantine the
Loyal Merchant
. Howel peered at the lone two-masted ship through his spyglass eagerly. It was square rigged on the foremast and fore-and-aft rigged on the mainmast, like Edward England’s Royal James had been. Howel muttered, “What a fine replacement for the
Buck
! I want her.” He turned and ordered the chase to begin. “Let’s bear down on her, men!”

As the sloop cut speedily through the waves toward the prey, the master gunner called, “Beat to quarters!” and the deck was cleared, the big guns readied for battle. Howel smirked. “She’s showing her heels,” he said. “She doesn’t want to fight, even though she’s got a good twenty-six guns on her.” He shouted to his crew, “We’re standing to the forefoot, you men!”

The merchantman was altering its course, and Howel intended to cut her off. At first, I was jittery with excitement, but when the chase dragged on for over an hour, I found myself growing bored. This was actually taking a long time. We were gaining on the prey, for sure, but at an agonizingly slow pace. Capturing a ship was much more a game of tactic than force, a fact Hollywood had neglected to point out in any of its movies, and Howel’s tactics were brash, arrogant, and reckless. The
Buck
was, strictly speaking, the inferior ship in regards to strength, but it behaved otherwise. Under Howel’s orders, she intercepted the
Loyal Merchant
by sailing across its bow, strategically fired a poorly-aimed chain-shot at the crew, and boldly lay by in the lee, stopping the prey dead in her tracks.

The pirates boarded the merchantman and met with little resistance. Many of the sailors, when given the option, were eager to join Howel’s crew. One exception was the surly first mate, a loud-mouthed man with terrible skin, who was brought aboard the
Buck
and refused to answer Howel’s questions about the
Loyal Merchant
’s capabilities as a sailor. He only spouted insults at Howel, which Howel took in stride, calmly waiting for the mate to pause in his vitriol, and then posing his questions once again.

“My good man,” Howel said, his good humor slipping away quickly, “I would be most grateful if you would answer me questions regarding this fine vessel, and in return I will welcome you aboard to join us, if you be so inclined.”

This provoked another stream of invectives, including some I had never heard before regarding one’s mother and sister… Howel snapped. His crew was angry, hungry for blood, and Walter Kennedy wanted to see the merchantman’s insolent mate punished. Howel said gruffly, “I gave you several chances, fellow. You stretch me patience.” He turned to his crew. “Dunk ‘im from the yardarm.”

This command was received with much glee by the pirates, and Walter wasted no time tying the still-cursing mate up with rope, his arms against his body. I realized with a jolt of horror that I was about to witness Howel’s first torture.

This would not be pleasant.

The end of the rope was tossed over a yardarm, and the man was yanked into the air and suspended, his legs flailing, his oaths lost in the wind. The ship rocked, and the
Loyal Merchant
’s first mate swung. He was dropped from that great height, landing in the sea with a splash, bumping against the bulwark as he fell. The pirates roared their approval, and Howel waited a while, letting the mate get a good lung-full of seawater, before signaling for Walter and the men to heave him up again. The man choked, gasped, as he was hoisted all the way up once again, swinging, spraying water into the air.