Bound by the Buccaneer (13 page)

“You know the man I take it?”

Gaston nodded vigorously. “A bad seed by all accounts.”

“Humphrey has been raiding the ships of my privateers, slaughtering entire ships full of passengers, merchant ships… The man is a menace, and I will not have him wreaking havoc in my territory. Do you understand me?”

Gaston did, though he found it amusing the governor thought he could control what went on hundreds of miles out to sea from his perch here on land. The privateers that worked for Whitehurst raided ships, gave him a percentage, and in return the governor left them alone. But Gaston knew that if he or the other men stepped out of line, Whitehurst would come after them. He may have been an old man, but he commanded the long arm of the British Navy, and had the ear of some of the most cut-throat pirates in the region. If one found himself on the wrong side of Governor Whitehurst he would likely find his neck in a noose or worse.

Eager to move things along and get back to Frederica, Gaston said, “I understand precisely. How may I be of assistance in this manner?”

The governor clasped his hands in his lap and said with a smile that was more genteel than bloodthirsty, “I’d like you to bring him to me.”

Gaston leaned forward as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Bring him to you?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“But your grace, you do realize what you are asking is quite an onerous task. If we attack him he’s liable to be killed. Humphrey won’t go down without a fight.” He paused for a moment, considering. “I could bring you his head,” he countered.

Whitehurst shook his white curls vehemently. “No! The head won’t do. I want you to capture him and bring him back here to stand trial. He must be made an example of—a big trial, a public hanging, all of it. That will make for a much better deterrent than his head on a spike to display. We have those by the dozen.”

Gaston sighed heavily. Carrying out the governor’s request would not be easy, but he had to concede the man’s point. “Bring him in alive?”

“Yes. I know it is a daunting task, but one I believe you and your men are up to. Is it true that you are sailing with Captains Appling, Pugwash, and Chatham these days?”

“Word travels fast.” How could the man possibly know that? Whitehurst’s spies must be further reaching than he’d thought.

“Appling’s a fine captain, Chatham’s young, and Pugwash is a trifle uncivilized for my taste, though I admit his record does speak for itself,” he said, begrudgingly.

“They are a fine lot, as are their men,” Gaston agreed.

The governor pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. “Then you should have no trouble carrying out this task,” he said smugly.

No trouble
, Gaston grumbled to himself. “What sort of bounty have you placed upon his head, and have you tasked anyone else with the job?”

“No, only you. I believe you to be the best man for the job, and I’d like you to carry it out quickly and without fanfare. Leave justice to me once he arrives on my shores.”

“And the bounty?” Gaston asked again.

“One thousand pieces of eight, a quarter of that if you only bring in his head. I want him alive, Galette. Understand?”

Gaston nodded. “I do. Alive.”

Whitehurst shifted in his chair. “I realize you have a history with the man, and you’d like to kill him, but you must not allow yourself the folly of poor forethought. If you lose your head and murder him for vengeance, the rest of your crew will suffer a great financial loss—at your expense. You are popular with your men, but do not overestimate the value of that popularity over gold.”

The old man was right of course. It
would
be difficult not to kill Humphrey when given the chance. Humphrey had tried to kill him and he’d taken advantage of Frederica in ways that turned his stomach. But if the governor intended to execute him, and Gaston would receive a financial reward for ridding the world of the bastard, all the better.

“I myself value gold above all else,” Gaston said with a slick smile, though even as the words left his mouth he knew they were false. His feelings for Frederica seemed to have eclipsed even his love of money. How and when did this occur? He was not certain, but he’d give every coin, every bauble he had if he could ensure her survival.

The not-knowing threatened to drive him mad. Was she even alive at this moment? Could she have died? There was a part of him that was sure he would feel it if she died. If she left this earth he would feel it in his bones. But that went against reason and he chided himself for entertaining such superstitious, magical thoughts.

“Galette! Are you listening?” Whitehurst snapped.

“Huh? Oh yes, I apologize. I seem to be coming down with a headache,” he lied.

“A headache, eh? It wouldn’t be that lovely brunette I hear you’ve brought aboard the
Ocean’s Knave,
would it? Where is she anyway? I thought you’d be bringing her with you,” Whitehurst raised a questioning brow.

Gaston wondered why everyone seemed so blooming interested in Frederica, and his skin began to itch. “She’s suffered an injury,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Whitehurst said. “My daughter was looking forward to meeting her. A female pirate is an oddity, but they say your girl is as lovely as an English rose.”

“They are correct, governor.”

“Very well then, you and Chatham will dine with Henrietta and me this evening.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, governor, but I fear I must be on my way.” Gaston was eager to wrap up this business as rapidly as possible and get back to his ship.

“Nonsense, you may depart tomorrow. We need to discuss this Humphrey character further over dinner. I may be able to get you some leads on him.”

“If it pleases your grace,” Gaston said with a brittle half-smile, and he tapped the floor impatiently with his foot.

Chapter Seventeen

Frederica awoke to a brain crushing scream. It took significant effort to open her eyes, but she forced her lids apart and was immediately sorry for it. The light coming in through the cracks between the planks felt like a spear to the brain, and she shut them again.

Not wanting to aggravate her pounding head she lay quietly still and began to gather her bearings. Where was she? It felt as though she were lying in a hammock. She identified the smells around her as blood and turpentine. Could she be in an infirmary?

Then the memory of the battle came rushing back to her. The last thing she remembered was something hitting her in the head. This sent a wave of panic through her. The last time she’d been hit in the head and fainted she had awoken a prisoner of the evil Captain Humphrey.

She struggled to get out of the hammock. She must find out, she must know where she was. One of her feet got hung up in the ropes, and she almost fell out of the rudimentary bed, but she pulled it out just before she tipped herself over.

Staggering on rubbery legs she squinted against the stray rays of sunlight that infiltrated the dark, dank space. Sick, bandaged men littered the room, many of them unconscious, and a few cried out in pain. The
Ocean’s Knave
had a similar sick bay, but she could tell she was not aboard her own ship, and that realization sent a jolt of terror coursing down her spine.

She stumbled past most of the men toward a door at the end of the room and practically fell into the arms of a man carrying a lantern and an armload of rags and cloth bandages. He dropped them to steady Frederica. “Ho, miss!” he said.

Too frightened to be concerned with her manners, Frederica wailed, “Where am I? Who are you?”

The man wrapped an arm around her and helped her to a bench in the corner. “Have a seat,” he said.

Having used up her strength walking just a few steps she sank down onto the hard, wooden bench.

“You are aboard the
Independence
. I am the physician who has been caring for you. The name is Jones.” He reached out and shook her hand. “Capt’n Appling has made you our honored guest, and I’m under strict order to see that you receive the best possible care.”

“Captain Appling?” she asked, trying to shake the fuzz from her brain.

“Yes. He will be most pleased that you are awake. I will inform him as soon as I examine you. He will be quite pleased with the news,” Jones said with a kind smile.

She bobbed her head and a sharp pain stabbed over her right eye. “Ouch.” Lifting her hand to the location of the throbbing, she discovered a knot the size of a goose egg. A large bandage covered her head where her forehead met her hairline.

“You suffered quite a blow. To be honest I wasn’t certain you would wake up,” Jones said as he held the lantern up to inspect her eyes. He checked her pulse then walked her back to her original hammock. “You have suffered a serious blow to the head. My best medical advice is to rest. I’ll bring you some water, and you should eat. Slowly at first, then work up to a larger meal. You will need nourishment to gain your strength.”

“Alright, but where are we going? Where is this ship going? Where is my crew?” she asked, becoming agitated.

He patted her hand and said, “I will fetch Captain Appling for you, miss. He can answer all your questions.”

Frederica lay in her hammock trying to process the information. She was aboard the
Independence
… Why? And where was Gaston? Dread gripped her as she contemplated the possibilities. A chill ran through her and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly and rocked back and forth in the aerial bunk.

It was only a matter of minutes before Miles burst through the door.

“Frederica! Jones told me you were awake, but I dared not believe it.”

He lifted her into his arms for a big hug. She winced, and he set her back down.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said suddenly looking worried, as if he might have broken her.

She laughed weakly. “It’s alright. My head just hurts.”

“I’ll wager it does. You suffered quite a blow. We weren’t sure you’d wake up.”

“That’s what Jones said.” She reached for his hand. “Miles, where are we going? Where is Gaston? Is he…?”

“Ah! Gaston’s fine. He went ahead to Port Royale. Left you with me because mine was the only ship with a physician. He wanted you to have the best chance at recovery.”

“I see,” she said, relief filling her. “Thank you for tending to me. He went to meet with the governor?”

Miles nodded. “Then we’re to meet him afterward. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

“What about everyone else? Who did we lose?” she looked around the sickroom at the men, most of them she did not know.

Miles filled her in on the casualties and losses as well as the plans for distributing the gold. He began telling her about where they would meet Gaston, but she had trouble focusing on his words. Feeling drowsier and drowsier, she finally rested her head against his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Eighteen

The
Ocean’s Knave
eased into the harbor, and Gaston could see the
Independence
in the distance anchored a thousand yards from shore. His heart was in his throat when he asked the ship’s master to bring them up to board at the bow.

Frederica was on that ship, though he had no idea in what condition he would find her. His nerves rankled him as if they were on the outside of his skin, and his stomach felt like it had fallen through a trap door. Petrified and at a rare loss for words, he motioned for Hatch to direct the men to throw over the ropes and tie the two vessels together.

“Ahoy!” Hatch hollered at the crew of the
Independence
. A few men answered. “The woman patient you have on board. What is her condition?” Hatch called.

The men looked confused, and Hatch asked, “Is she alive?”

One of the men began to nod his head.

Relief flushed through Gaston and he almost dropped to his knees to praise heaven for answering his prayers. But before he could fully digest the news, he saw her.

Moving gingerly and with Appling’s help, his beloved Frederica walked toward the ship’s railing.

His heart was so full that he thought he would burst. “Frederica!” Gaston called, his voice conveying every ounce of passion inside him.

She tilted her head toward his voice and their eyes met. A look of pure rapture crossed her face, and she broke out into the prettiest smile he had ever witnessed.

She waved wildly. “Gaston!”

Gaston climbed into a rowboat, which the men let down into the water, and then Hatch navigated them to the other ship where Miles was gently helping Frederica down the ladder.

Hatch stood and told Frederica, “Jump, missy. Hatch will catch you.”

The drop was only a few feet, but she bit her lip nervously. After a minute she let go and fell into the giant’s arms. He deposited her into the boat next to Gaston who held her tightly and crooned into her hair, “Frederica. My darling Frederica. You must never frighten me like that again.”

She laughed softly. “I won’t. I’m sorry you were worried.” She laced her fingers around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Suddenly all was right in his world, and Gaston couldn’t imagine anything more important than keeping her safe. Except possibly making her his on a permanent basis.

He lifted her chin so he could gaze into her amazing blue eyes. He had been all over the world and had never met anyone else with such arresting eyes. They dazzled him in their transparency, making him feel as though he could see straight into her soul. He wanted to stare into those eyes every day for the rest of his life.

“Frederica, I have something to ask of you.”

She studied him curiously. “Yes, what is it?”

Though it was awkward to maneuver in the small boat he lifted her from his lap and set her on the seat. He then knelt on one knee and took her hands in his.

“Gaston what are you doing?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he muttered then continued, “Frederica Beauchamp, my dearest girl, I have grown accustomed to your delightful presence and in light of your recent injury it has come to my attention that I should not like to be deprived of it. Without you the moon simply doesn’t shine quite as bright. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known and the perfect partner for me—in piracy as well as in life.”