Bound by the Buccaneer (11 page)

She looked up at the sky. “None.”

“Exactly. Frederica you are a rare woman. Rarely in my travels have I found a distraction as lovely as yourself. For a moment you made me forget my heartache.” He sighed. “But only for a moment. Being with a woman brings the ache to the surface, tears at me. I usually forego dalliances with women. It’s easier that way.”

She frowned. “Then why did you ask Gaston to share me with you?”

“See what I mean? Never afraid to ask the difficult question are you?” he asked. “Pugwash had it in his head that Gaston was under your spell. When we asked Gaston about it, he blustered and insisted that you were his slave, under his command. We couldn’t resist calling his bluff and seeing how far he would take his protestations. I have known Gaston for a long time. We used to serve together aboard the
Brimstone
.”

“He never told me that!”

“Probably didn’t think it was important. I’ve never seen Gaston care for a woman before… or anything for that matter. The Gaston with whom I’m acquainted lives life like he has nothing to lose. He was always a risk-taker who gave little thought to consequences. A man like that makes a great pirate, but not such great a lover.”

Frederica shifted uncomfortably on the sand.

Miles continued, “Like Pugwash, I had heard rumors about the way he doted on you. We had to see for ourselves what was the truth. It didn’t make sense, Gaston is so damned independent. To him, freedom is everything. After losing his wife and what happened in the colonies,” his voice trailed off. “Well, I’ve never known him to have ties.”

“You mean losing his wife and child during the birth?” she asked.

Miles gave her an odd look and nodded.

“What about Hatch? He has a deep connection with him,” Frederica protested.

“I have only recently met the man, so I don’t know their history. I only know Gaston has an independent streak that’s as wide as a barn.”

Frederica giggled and nodded her assent.

“I thought he had given everything he had to the sea with no loyalty to anyone but himself, which is not a bad way for a pirate to be.”

Miles’ description of Gaston rang true, but it made her feel slightly queasy.

“Do you love him?” Miles asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“How did he manage things after you returned from our tryst?”

“He’s been in a foul mood lately. I hardly see him and when I do he’s grumpy.” She tossed a ball of sand back into the gracefully approaching waves as they crashed near her feet.

“Moody, you say? Since you returned from servicing his mates?”

She nodded, understanding beginning to bloom in her mind. “Do you think he’s jealous?” Yes, she should have thought of this before. Unfortunately, her experience with men was quite limited.

“Of course he’s jealous. You are his woman, are you not?”

“Yes, but he commanded me to do that. I only did it for him. For us.”

Miles pursed his lips and shook his head. “Irrelevant. The heart is not influenced by reason. If it were I wouldn’t still be pursuing my long-lost Josephine. My brain,” he pointed at his head, “knows it’s an improbable quest, but my heart will not listen,” he said touching his hand to his chest.

With a sigh, Miles said, “We probably shouldn’t have put Gaston through the torture of such an encounter.” He chuckled. “But we’re pirates, more interested in our own pleasures than in some sort of brethren code. Once off the ship it’s whoring and gambling for most.”

“Was Gaston like that? When you knew him before?”

He considered this. “I can’t swear that he never had a whore, but Gaston was always more interested in treasure than women. He fancied a drink in a tavern same as any man, but I can’t remember him being one for whores. He was a bit of a lone wolf, always seemed like he was running from something. Loss, I suppose.”

“I merely wondered. When we met he rescued me from the Humphrey’s ship, and we were washed up on an island, I fell in love with him. He took some convincing, but I finally got him to agree to allow me to sail with him.”

“You are an unusual woman, Frederica. Most gals would be pestering him to settle down and raise babies by now. But you’re content to sail the seas as his mistress?”

“Content? I’m thrilled. I don’t want to be tied down by apron strings and bawling babies. No thank you. I want adventure, to see the world, find treasure.” She gestured at the vast ocean in front of them. “Out there. The world has so much to offer, and I want it all!”

Miles reached over and fingered one of her shell-bedecked locks. “You are a special girl Frederica. I am pleased to have known you.” He winked at her. “But you can tell Gaston that I pose no threat to him. I can see that you love him, as I love my Josephine.”

“He might prefer to hear it from you,” she hedged.

“Now that,” he said standing and helping her to her feet, “I doubt very much.”

Chapter Fourteen

Gaston met with the three other captains in his alliance aboard the
Ocean’s Knave
the day they were to sail. He had to convince them to sail all four ships under a red flag. Pugwash had no problem with the idea, but Appling and Chatham disagreed, thinking it might be too aggressive a stance to take. The flag might be interpreted as the widely feared Jolie Rouge which was flown by only the most violent of pirates. The Jolie Rouge was a message to other ships that the pirates aboard would offer no quarter, and those who opposed them would be shown no mercy.

Gaston’s position was that it did no harm to frighten other ships. With three fully manned sloops and the
Independence,
which was a naval cutter that Appling had outfitted for pirating, they would clearly outnumber and outgun most any other ship they came across. If the crew members on the ships they encountered were alarmed enough, they were more likely to cooperate with a pirate ship bearing the red flag. It would be foolish for them to fire on such a large force, and Gaston expected to encounter more white flags of surrender than canon fire.

“The flags are plain crimson, no skull or crossbones. If you need an out, you can explain that we fly the red flags in deference to your leader’s experience sailing with the French Navy. Their flags are red.”

“But none of us ever sailed with the French Navy,” Chatham argued, scratching his head dubiously.

Gaston threw up his hands. “But I am French and no one will know that!”

Chatham nodded, but Appling shook his head again as if he were uncertain how he had gotten himself into this arrangement in the first place. Ultimately Chatham and Appling went along with Gaston and Pugwash. It was decided, they would each fly a scarlet flag devoid of any decoration. If in the future they wanted to add a design they would be allowed.

Just before the noon hour they set sail for Port Royale, with the
Ocean’s Knave
in the lead. The
Independence
and the
Volusia
flanked either side, which left the
Greed of Hades
to bring up the rear. The four crews together boasted two hundred-fifty men and forty-six guns, a formidable force on the seas by any standards.

They hoisted anchor and Gaston stayed on deck supervising. “Let run the canvas!” he hollered to his crew. The wind whipped against his face, and the ship creaked and groaned under his feet. This was his favorite part of a voyage—the beginning. At the start of a trip he was always optimistic, giddy with excitement about the impending adventure. His spirits soared as he anticipated whatever lay before him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he looked up to see Frederica approaching him, that scrawny cat Old Bones following along behind her. The cat’s presence annoyed him, and he took a deep breath. “Greetings, how kind of you to join us, you and that wretched beast,” he said, darkly.

“What do you mean? Where else would I be?” She squinted in the bright sunlight.

“I thought you might have chosen to sail aboard the
Independence
,” he said with a petulance that he immediately regretted.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, a shadow crossing her face. The cat wound his way around their feet, first hers then his, then he disappeared under Frederica’s skirts.

“I saw you earlier with Captain Appling, perhaps you would prefer his company,” Gaston snipped. Even as the words left his mouth he wished he could bite them back. But something inside him had snapped when he’d seen Frederica and Appling playing on the beach earlier. Who did Appling think he was? And what was wrong with Frederica that she didn’t see the man’s less than honorable intentions toward her? At that moment he’d like to drown them both.

“Gaston, he was helping me with my parrying, showing me some new tricks with the cutlass. I should think you would want me to improve my skills, help me better prepare for the battles we shall face.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I do not approve of Captain Appling taking on the role of your instructor. That is a position to be filled by none other than myself!”

Her shoulders drooped. “So you
are
jealous. That’s what all this is about.” Old Bones appeared from underneath her skirt and meowed.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he simply glared at her, and then the cat.

“Miles loves Josephine. He has no feelings for me, none of them do. And I have no feelings for them. If you recall, the only reason I serviced those men was because you commanded me to,” she said with a scowl. “I did it to prove my loyalty to you, and you repay me by questioning that very loyalty?”

Gaston searched for the words to explain himself, but came up short. “It-it’s a complicated situation,” he stammered, stomping his foot on the deck.

Her face was a mask of anger now. “Yes, it is, but it is one you have created. I have done nothing but obey you, and you have no one to blame but yourself.” With that she scooped up Old Bones, turned on her heel and strode toward the captain’s quarters.

Her words stung as sure as if she’d slapped him. He took a swig from a bottle of rum, welcoming the burning trail of liquid warmth as it traveled down his throat and into his belly. And he despaired as he realized, with a heavy heart, that she was right.

* * *

The next day Gaston awoke on the ship’s deck with a pounding headache. He’d stayed topside and drank with Tagbor and some of the others until he’d passed out on deck. After his argument with Frederica, he’d wanted to steer clear of her.

One of the deck hands brought him some hardtack, and he chewed on it, hoping it would settle his stomach. The drink helped him forget his problems for a few hours, but it wasn’t a satisfactory solution. When he awoke, his troubles had not magically disappeared. He remained on deck for the rest of the day overseeing the crew and trying not to think about his jealousy of Frederica and Appling and the rest. Keeping himself occupied was preferable to sulking all day.

They sailed north without incident until late afternoon when two ships appeared on the horizon. As they drew closer Gaston realized they’d had the good fortune to happen upon a Spanish Galleon and her escort. The escort meant the main ship would be carrying precious cargo. The Spanish were always transporting valuable goods and sometimes gold from its territories to the west through the Spanish Main on their way to Europe. Aboard the
Volusia
,
Chatham still maintained his letters of mark as a privateer from the English governor, documents essentially hiring Captain Chatham and his men to rob the Spanish for England. The practice of privateering allowed for the English to profit from the pirating that was already so prevalent and rob their enemies of their precious treasury at the same time.

Gaston raised the call and the
Ocean’s Knave
prepared to attack. The Galleon was large, with an estimated seventy guns and approximately two hundred men. Its escort was only slightly smaller. The size of the ships, the heavy gunnery, and the weight of the probable gold aboard meant the Spanish ships had almost no chance of outrunning Gaston’s fleet.

But as they sailed closer, it was evident the Spanish had no intention of surrendering.

“If they intend to put up a fight, let’s show them a fight,” Gaston said. “Fire a warning shot!” He called to his gunners.

Two canons fired across the bow of the Galleon. In response they heard shouting in Spanish and the gun doors of the big ship opened slowly. Moments later they began firing.

“Full on ahead!” Gaston shouted. He wanted to get the
Ocean’s Knave
out of firing range and allow the smaller, quicker
Volusia
to come in for a shot. The
Independence
and the
Greed of Hades
had their sights set on the smaller escort ship.

But before the
Ocean’s Knave
could begin maneuvering out of range, a booming explosion walloped the crew with incoming canon fire. Shards of wood flew through the air. Glass from a window shattered, some of the riggings were damaged and one of the canvases torn to bits. The smell of gunpowder assaulted his nose, and the deafening blast seemed to go on for ten minutes as the crew scurried around trying to take cover. Some men ducked low on the deck while others ran below to escape the many projectiles hurtling past.

Gaston signaled a different plan to the
Volusia
and ordered his gunners to return the volley. “Fire at the riggings!” he yelled, hoping to dismantle the Spanish ship’s masts and make it impossible for her to escape.

The guns went off with a loud roar. They hit their mark, and several parts of the Spanish ship’s mast came tumbling down amidst a thick, black cloud. As the smoke cleared Gaston was relieved the
Volusia
was running alongside the Galleon, its crew preparing to board.

Removing his hat, Gaston wiped his brow. A section of his ship was on fire, and the heat was brutal. He rushed to the other end and raised his spyglass.

Good show! Pugwash and his men had already boarded the escort and were taking prisoners. Occasionally a man fell or jumped, it was hard to discern, overboard. Gaston shook his head. He’d never understood why those who were beaten could not accept defeat. When
he
found himself on the other side of a boarding pike, he always resorted to verbal negotiating. He couldn’t imagine falling on his own sword as he’d seen so many do. Sides could be changed so easily as many of the Spanish would realize when they signed on to sail with Gaston and his men. Why end it all over one battle? Life was nothing if not a battle, and there would always be another one around the corner.