Within a Captain's Treasure (17 page)

When she woke this morning, Bump was no longer at her side. Her body was sore and stiff from sleeping against a pile of ropes. And Gavin…she hadn’t seen him since she left his cabin. He had to have heard the call. He’d be eager to get her under way. She’d wait until the last minute to say her good-byes to him. Maybe by then she would have found the right words to say.

The thin strip of land grew. Alice twisted at her ring and ran the gambit of emotions. Anticipation, fear, hope, sadness. Why did it seem like her journey to this new land, new life began three lifetimes ago? This is what she wanted. Her destination. This is why she left Weatherington. She’d set off with determination and a sense of adventure. When had her fortitude disappeared?

She fingered the tiny pearl nestled in her ring. Her tether to Annalise. What words of advice would she offer Alice?

“Tupper?”

Behind her stood her three men-at-arms. Finch, Summer, and White. All three stood grinning at her.

“Gentlemen.”

They snorted and jostled each other until Finch gave the others a shove and they sobered. Finch took off his hat and gave her a serious nod. “Tupper, we got te talkin’. Them an’ me. As yer official landin’ crew an’ all, we be thinkin’ ye can’t go ashore lookin’ like some castaway.”

White shoved him, hard. Finch stumbled to recover. “Not that ye don’t look fine. Ain’t what we be sayin’.” He worried the brim of his hat. “What I mean, is ye should leave dressed like a lady.”

White pushed a parcel at her. “Made ye this.” He studied the toes of his dirty feet.

“Made? What is it?”

“It be a skirt.”

Alice unfolded it and held it up. The simple garment was made in panels of rugged fabric stained a dark tan. Down the back were three stripes of stiff red cloth running from waist to hem. The
Scarlet’s
sails. “You made me a skirt? I don’t know what to say.”

“Ain’t the latest fashion, but beats the hell out of borrowed britches.” Finch jerked his head. “Summer come up wit the idea. Used tea to get the brown color. White’s a mender and scrounged the scrap. An me, I be the right height.”

Alice held the garment to her waist. “I can’t believe you did this.” She shot a look at Finch. “Wait. You’re the right height?”

Summer snorted. White rubbed his nose to cover his grin. Finch shoved them again. “Needed to ken how long to cut the stripes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a look at her. “We be the same size to the floor, you an’ me. White measured each bit off me.”

Alice bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image of Finch as a dressmaker’s model. “I’m touched. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Yer mighty welcome, Tupper. Been a fine thing havin’ ye aboard. Come, lads, we’ve work ta do loadin’ the skiff.”

“How long before we reach port?”

“Oh, we ain’t heading ta port. Too risky. We be anchoring down shore. Capt’n put us three and Simons in charge of haulin’ ye to the beach. Me and Simons is to see ye as close te town as we dare.”

Gavin had set everything in motion. “How long before we leave?”

“Couple, three hours, at most. Got a hell of a head wind comin’ off an’ wit the one mast broke we be movin’ some slow. Be happy when we turn back and the breeze be at our arse.”

“That gives me plenty of time to change.” Alice clutched the skirt to her chest. “Thank you again for my gift.”

As the three moved away, Alice shook her head and laughed at the image of three of the fiercest fighting, blood thirstiest pirates brewing tea and stitching a lady’s skirt with Finch as their model.

Heading toward the gangway, she crossed paths with Neo. His face was swollen. One eye nearly closed. A bandage on his arm stood out against his dark skin. “Neo.”

“You be gone soon.”

Alice gave a slow nod. “That’s what I hear.”

He took her hand and placed something in her palm. “Take this.” It was an ivory-colored curve capped in gold hung on a rough chain. “Tao give to me. I give to you. His name means lion. This is a lion tooth. Te bring ye strength and courage.”

“I can’t—”

“I give, you take.”

“Neo,” she ran her thumb over the beautiful piece, “I owe you my life.” She laid a hand on his bandage and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t have fought him much longer. You—”

Dark, bottomless eyes held hers. “Jessup fell.”

Alice nodded her understanding. The subject was closed. What had transpired wasn’t for her to know. It was done. “You are one of the finest men I’ve ever met. I know you weren’t among those who approved of my being aboard, yet you fought for me. Risked your life. I saw how you ministered to those men. Honored them. I’ll never forget.”

He curled his large calloused hand around hers, closing it over the tooth. “Fair winds to ye, Tupper.”

Alice followed his strong back as he walked away before she continued to her room. Entering the small space, she remembered the last time she was there. Gavin, passionate, joking, kissing her until her knees went weak. She still hadn’t seen him. Would he see her off? Say good-bye?

Pouring cool water from the pitcher, Alice then began washing the grime from her face and neck. Unbraiding her hair, she finger-combed through the tangles. She stripped out of her breeches and stepped into her skirt. It was heavy and the seams scratched at her skin. The waist was too large, but the length—the length was perfect. Alice grinned again thinking of Finch.

With the tails of her blouse untucked, and the large buckled belt secured across her hips, she was ready to meet her new life. The heavy lion’s tooth hung about her neck well below her breasts. She tucked it into the fullness of her shirt.

Neo said it would bring her strength and courage. Alice prayed he was right. She was in need of a healthy dose of both.

Alice left the tiny sliver of a room she’d called her own for the last time and nearly tripped over the boy seated outside her door.

“Bump, there you are. I was worried I wouldn’t see you before I left.”

The child jumped up and ran a hand down the new skirt she wore and smiled. Alice crouched down and put her hand on his shoulder, returning his smile. Ruffling his hair, she put her hat upon his head. He didn’t understand and tried to give it back, but she placed it on his once more, shook her head, and pointed from the hat to him. “It’s yours now.”

Bump beamed from beneath the wide feathered brim before running off with his prize. As he scampered away, she prayed God would watch over him.

Back topside, the men stopped their chores to notice her walk past. Alice shot back over her shoulder. “You’d think you’d never seen a lady in a fine skirt before.” Many said their good-byes and wished her well.

She found Robbins and returned his breeches. “I thank you for the use of your trousers.”

“Least I can brag ’bout all the fine women been in me pants.” He smirked and blushed to the roots of his hair.

“One day you’ll don a fine pair and I hope you’ll remember me.” Alice patted his arm.

“I ain’t likely to forget ye, Tupper.” Robbins nodded.

“And you’ll keep an eye on Bump for me?”

He bobbed his head, again. “Aye, I will. Ye ken count on me. Always.”

They were closer to shore now. The order to drop anchor would come anytime. Alice moved away from the bow. Watching the land grow larger and large in her sight was setting off nerves and emotions she was struggling to sort.

“Would ye look at you?” MacTavish stood with his hands on his hips appraising her. “I’d have ye in a fine tartan pinned o’er ye shoulder, but I imagine that’ll do.”

Alice smiled at the burly Scotsman. “Only Scots wear tartan.”

“Aye, but on rare occasions, we’re allowed te bestow an honorary Scotsman badge of honor.”

“You’d make me an honorary Scot?” She raised her eyebrow. Tough and grizzled like an old bear, MacTavish had a tender side to him few saw and even less dared to acknowledge.

“I might.” He jerked his head back toward the magazine. “Follow me, lassie.”

“If you pull a kilt out of a bag—”

“Nay, just come wit me.” Stopping inside the armory he closed the door. “I ain’t a man te get sentimental. But ye’ve been a fine thing te happened on this here tub. Ye work hard and yer brave. And ye put up wit te likes of me.” He tugged at the braid in his beard. “Might bloody well miss ya.”

Alice was tempted to tug at his beard as well, but knew better. “I might bloody well miss you, too.”

“I want ye te have somethin’. Ya know, te remember yer favorite Scotsman. Have I ne’re told ya where I be from, lass?”

“I don’t think you have.”

“I be from a bonny part of the highlands. A tiny village called
Sròn an t-Sìtheinn
means nose of the fairies. Our tartans be a fine red color fer a reason, ya see. There be these rocks there that burn a bloody brilliant red fire.”

“The red smoke.” She clapped her hands together.

“Shhhh.” He opened the door and peered out. “Keep yer voice down, lass. None be knowing ’cept me—now you.”

Alice lowered her voice. “Why are you telling me?”

He planted his meaty fists on his hips. “Ye been askin’ near every damn day.”

“I never thought you’d actually do it,” she countered.

“Must be havin’ a weak moment.” The corner of Alice’s mouth curled into a smirk. MacTavish frowned at her. “What be that look fer?”

“Malcolm MacTavish, beneath your brawny, burly, grouchy exterior”—Alice put on her best Scottish accent—“ye be nothin’ but an ole’ softy.”

MacTavish’s face flushed crimson. “Ye be takin’ that back.”

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I will not.”

“If ye were a man—”

“You’d never have told me.”

He laughed and nodded. “Ye got that right. An’ I’d ne’re be givin’ ye this.” From the rugged leather sporran tied about his waist, MacTavish took a small square of his beloved red tartan and a small leather pouch. “I be givin’ ye the secret and a wee bit of me powder. Toss a pinch into a fire and ye’ll have a grand show. And I give ye a bit of me fine wool. Wear it pinned near te ya heart. It’ll bring ye luck.” He pushed both items into her hands.

The gesture touched her bruised heart. “MacTavish—”

“Ye be stoppin’ right there. I’ll be havin’ none of the mush yer fittin’ to spout.”

“Can I say thank you?”

He sniffed. “Ye did, lass. Now be gone wit ya.”

“Just when I think I may like you, you go and show your true colors.” Alice laid a hand on the steel of his arm. “Then I like you even more. I promise to keep the tartan near to my heart and your secret safe.”

He gave a gruff nod and opened the door for her. Outside she looked at the items in her hands stunned at the generous nature of these men. Alice tucked her front shirttail into her belt to create a reticule of sorts and moved toward a certain spot in the bow. Virginia stretched out before her. Land filled the horizon. She was here.

“We’ll be dropping anchor soon.” Behind her, Gavin’s voice wrapped around her. “I can’t accompany you, but will send men to escort you.”

The ache in her heart closed her throat. She could only nod.

Gavin was silent for a long moment. “All that is left is to wish you safe journey, Mistress Tupper.”

Alice straightened her spine. “The same to you, Captain.”

“I see a bit of the
Scarlet Night
will be leaving with you.” He’d moved closer. His voice a low whisper in her ear. “Her sails have never looked lovelier, but I believe I prefer you in breeches.”

Alice closed her eyes. She wanted to scream for him to stop. Turn and slap his face. She wanted him to grab her and kiss all the pain and confusion away, and to tell him how much she loved him. How getting off this ship was going to kill her. Instead, she gripped the railing before her until her knuckles went white.

The order rang out to drop the sails. Shouts throughout the men and the loud release of the ship’s anchor chain rattled like a death knell to her.

“It sounds as if you’ve arrived.” Did his voice seem strained? “I’m leaving you in Simons’s capable hands.”

His warmth left her side. He’d stepped back. “Good-bye, Alice.”

She stood stock-still, not moving, not speaking. Gavin’s boots thudded on the deck as he moved away. She refused to allow the flood of tears threatening to drown her. Momentum shoved her against the rail as the
Scarlet Night
pulled rebelliously against her heavy tether.

If she didn’t move, held her breath and closed her eyes tight, perhaps she could make time stand still. She could stop the sun and the tide and languish in this precise second of in-between. For the space of time it takes a grain of sand to drop in an hourglass, she could freeze this moment and exist within its minute boundaries.

But her lungs still pulled breath; her heart still beat out its perpetual rhythm. Time moved on against her wishes. The crew’s activity behind her and the wind upon her face were gentle reminders she needed to move on. There was a new life and a whole new world awaiting her. It was what she hoped for long ago, and here it was, close enough to touch.

She shelved her past away. Tucked it back into the far corner of her memory. Time did pass, and it would heal the scars it left behind. The bruises would fade. She’d embrace the future with eager, wiser arms. She had all she needed: a talisman for strength, a patch of wool for luck, and a ring full of love. What more did she need.

Him. She needed him.
Alice shook the thought from her mind.

Simons came to stand next to her. “We’ll be heading off soon as the skiff is lowered. Ye’ll want to be in Cape Henry before the last coach leaves. Should be landing at the Whitmore Plantation by sundown.”

“I’m ready.”

“Shouldn’t be long now.”

Simons left to see to last-minute things. Alice allowed herself one final look down the length of the beautiful
Scarlet Night
. She couldn’t help scanning the decks once more for the towering man with the sun-bright hair. He wasn’t there.

Alice took a slow, deep breath. “Good-bye,
Scarlet Night
. Good-bye, Gavin.”

Climbing down the rope ladder to sit in the back of the long skiff, Alice then faced Finch, Simons, White, and Summer who waited to set their oars and row the small ship to shore. Alice had to smile at the looks upon her dressmakers’ faces. They congratulated one another on how well the garment fit her—especially the length.