My Seaswept Heart (11 page)

“What made ye decide to join our crew,
Andy?”

The question was so unexpected Anne couldn’t
think of an answer. She hemmed. She hawed. She caught his eye as he
stared at her in the looking glass.

“There must have been a reason, for a lad
your age to go on account. Since we didn’t pull you off another
vessel, I just wondered what it was.”

“Adventure,” Anne blurted out and saw the
captain nod. He was shaving his cheek and twisted his mouth to the
side.

“Adventure, eh. Well, there’s plenty of that
to be sure.” His upper lip was next, and Jamie said nothing more
until that was free of soap and whiskers. “But then there be times
when a pirate ship isn’t the safest place.” He paused and turned,
half of his face still covered in bubbles, to face Anne. “Like this
afternoon.”

Anne swallowed. “I’m not afraid of a
bully.”

The pirate grinned, then resumed his shaving.
“Well said, but perhaps a bit foolhardy. There are bullies it’s
wise to fear. And to stay clear of.”

As Joe had told her. Anne shrugged her
shoulders inside the too-large coat. “I do my best.”

“I’m sure ye do, lad. But if your best ever
isn’t enough, I want ye to let me know.” Satisfied with the
reflection staring back at him, Jamie walked to the tub, bent over
and rinsed away the remaining soap. He reached for the towel around
his waist to dry his face but before he could unfasten it something
was thrust into his hand. He looked down at one of his shirts
offered by Andy. With a shrug he wiped at his cheeks and chin.

When he glanced up Anne couldn’t help
staring. Without his layer of whiskers the pirate was, well,
handsome... almost beautiful. She’d known there was a certain
appeal about him. But this! His cheekbones were strong, his nose
straight, and the mouth... Unbidden by the fringe of whiskers, it
was wide and sensual.

“Are ye understanding what I’m saying to ye,
lad?”

“What? Ah... er... aye. Stay away from
Stymie,” Anne finally managed to blunder out. He had a cleft in his
chin that she forced herself to ignore as she averted her eyes.

“Be ye all right, lad?” Jamie tossed the damp
shirt over his shoulder and approached the boy, stopping only when
he cringed away, turning his head and looking as if he wanted to
meld with the bulwark.

Jamie lifted his hand to touch the filthy
knit cap covering his head, thinking better of it when he heard the
whimper. “I’ll not hurt ye, lad.” Jamie waited for him to glance up
and when he didn’t, retraced his steps. It was obvious the poor boy
was terrified. And after Stymie’s advances this day, he probably
had a right to be.

Jamie took a deep breath wishing he could rid
his ship of Stymie and his cohorts... knowing he couldn’t. “Be off
with ye then,” he said as he started looking for a clean pair of
breeches. “But keep your guard up.”

Not giving him a chance to rescind his order,
Anne scurried out the door. She rushed forward along the passageway
without paying attention to where she was, hurrying past the ladder
leading above deck. Something skittered in front of her. She
recognized the rodent’s squeak, but it was too dark to see much. On
either side of her were shelves jammed with rope. Though the air
was dank and chilled, sweat rolled down her back and between her
breasts.

The sloop rolled and Anne’s stomach did the
same, sending her lurching forward. It had been days since she was
bothered by the seasickness and she hoped she’d felt the last of
it. But apparently the pressure of being so close to Captain
MacQuaid did more than give her trembling hands.

Anne stayed below for as long as she thought
she could. It was dark, and she had no way to know the time. And
though she had hunger pangs, food wasn’t something she wished for
now with her stomach acting up. Especially not the kind of swill
served up on the
Lost Cause
.

Crunched up beside a coil of damp rope, her
chin resting on her raised knees, Anne imagined what it would be
like if she took over the galley. A little organization would go a
long way toward making the finished product more appetizing.

From there her mind wandered to the captain’s
quarters. Such a mess she’d never seen. If he simply spent a few
minutes... perhaps it would take more than a
few
minutes...
cleaning and putting away his things, there would be much less
clutter. He could run the ship more efficiently.

Tucking her chin she rubbed an itch on her
nose with her woolen-covered knee. When she lifted her head again a
smile curved her lips. What was she doing trying to plan ways for a
pirate to manage his ship better? Well if it helped him catch
d’Porteau she supposed it would be all right.

With a sigh Anne settled her head onto the
rope. The next thing she knew she heard sounds coming as if from
far away. It was like a dream but when she opened her eyes, she
could still hear them. By the feel of her neck when she tried to
straighten it she’d been asleep for some time. She was stiff and
chilled to the bone, glad for once that she wore a heavy jacket and
woolen cap.

Anne blinked, looking around and trying to
remember where she was and why. And how she could get back up on
deck. She’d been so upset after she left the captain’s cabin that
she hadn’t really watched where she was going. And now it was black
as pitch around her.

But she could still hear the voices, a mere
mumbling off behind her so she carefully slid off the grated shelf
where she sat. Her shoes sloshed in some bilge water and she
cringed as it seeped through the leather and oozed around her toes.
Oh, she would be so glad to be off this floating torture
chamber.

Using her hands to guide her she moved along
the gangway toward the voices. They were getting louder and she was
tempted to call out, but something kept her from it. She wasn’t
sure what. Anne finally decided it was the darkness making her feel
so spooky. After all, she intended to show herself when she reached
whoever was talking.

At least she thought she would. But when Anne
crept around a corner, piled high with barrels and saw the men
sitting around the single candle she changed her mind. Holding her
breath she sidled back into the shadows and pressed against the
bulwark.

She could hear them more plainly now, though
they were mumbling and obviously trying to keep their voices down.
She didn’t know all their names, only Stymie’s, but she’d seen most
of them on the ship and she knew instinctively to steer clear of
them. Her glance at the cluster was so brief she didn’t know
exactly how many men there were but she guessed there to be nearly
a dozen. And right now they seemed to be arguing about
something.

“I say we do it now.”

“Aye, now it is,” Anne heard several more
agree. It sounded as if the majority would win, in true Locke
tradition, whatever they were discussing until she heard the voice
of the dissenter.

Stymie.

“And how are we to get the weapons?” The
question sounded logical enough. It was the tone that made the skin
on Anne’s neck seem to crawl.

“From the guardhouse,” one answered
logically, to be joined by a chorus of support.

“Aye, we’ll break down the blasted door and
help ourselves.”

“And how many of us will get ourselves killed
in the process?” The chilling voice of reason pierced the rowdy
cheers. “I’ve no desire to go up against the cap’n, and get me head
blown off.”

“Yea, we noticed.”

This was followed by enough snickers that
Anne knew the pirates were remembering Stymie’s reaction this
morning. Anne was close to smiling herself when a loud bang made
her gasp. Flattening herself against the boards, she waited,
deathly still, half expecting to be discovered, only to realize the
noise had nothing to do with her. Stymie apparently took exception
to being the butt of mirth and slammed something down.

Whatever it was it effectively quieted the
group. The silence seemed to permeate the hold, making the pounding
in her chest sound deafening. Just when she thought she would burst
if she didn’t take a breath, Stymie spoke.

“Any man here who thinks he can take on the
cap’n will die like the fool he is.” He sniffed and Anne could
imagine him lifting his burly shoulders. “But there be more than
one way to be rid of ’em.”

Anne wrapped her arms about her waist.

“But when? How?”

Anne leaned her ear closer to the crack
between the barrels.

“Leave the when and how ta me. But know
’twill be soon.” There was the grating sound of wood against wood,
and Anne shrunk back as small as she could. “Now get along, the lot
’a ye, ’fore Cap’n MacQuaid comes lookin’ ta tuck ye into yer beds
with a lullaby.”

This brought a chorus of chortles, amid the
shuffling of feet and cracking of bones too long settled on damp
wood.

The light slowly faded and Anne silently slid
her back down the bulwark until she hit the decking. She’d heard
enough to know that Captain MacQuaid and her mission were in grave
danger.

The question was, what should she do about
it? Surely the captain knew Stymie didn’t like him. The expression
on the man’s face this morning was clear enough for even an idiot
to read. And she didn’t think Jamie MacQuaid was an idiot.

Then why did he keep Stymie and the others
among his crew?

Of course he didn’t know about their plot of
mutiny. Only she was privy to that information.

Just in case one of the conspirators had
stayed to make certain no one overheard their plans, Anne made
herself count slowly to one hundred. She peeked out around the
kegs, thankful no one was there, then cautiously made her way out
of the hold. Once in the passageway she blinked her eyes against
the glare of the stubby candle smoking in its iron holder. After
glancing around she rushed toward the hatch.

~ ~ ~

“Aw, Momma, let me sleep a bit more,” Joe
mumbled, then jerked awake, the whites of his eyes wide in the
moonglow. “Stymie?”

“No, it’s Andy.” Anne whispered. She reached
out and touched the boy’s arm, sorry she hadn’t taken more care
with waking him. He trembled beneath her fingers.

When he moved over she squeezed into the
space they shared between the extra cordage and some torn
sails.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Didn’t,” he lied before scrunching back down
and resting his check on folded hands. “Just startled me, s’all.”
His lids closed.

“Joe, wait. Don’t go back to sleep. I have to
talk to you.”

One eye opened. “Where ye been? Looked for ye
at supper!”

“That’s not important.” Anne pushed up and
looked about nervously. Several pirates were on deck, the
mid-watch, but they didn’t seem to be paying her any mind. But she
wasn’t taking any chances. Anne lowered her voice. “I need for you
to do something for me.”

“What?”

Joe obviously wasn’t as sensitive to the need
for secrecy. Anne pressed her finger to his lips. “I want you to
tell the captain something.”

Joe wriggled down onto his blanket. “Ask me
in the mornin’.”

“No.” Anne shook his skinny arm. “You have to
do it now.”

Joe’s eyes popped open again. “Ye mean ye
want me to go below and wake ’em up? Wake up Cap’n MacQuaid?”

“Exactly.”

“He’d have me hide, for sure.”

“No, no, he won’t. Listen...” Since the boy
showed no signs of sitting up, Anne lay down beside him. “There’s a
plot afoot to take over the ship.” She had to clamp her hand over
Joe’s mouth when he whooped his surprise. “Will you be quiet?”

Rising on her elbows, Anne checked to see if
the outburst sparked anyone’s attention. The sailor closest to them
appeared to have drifted off to sleep. Anne could only hope
d’Porteau’s vessel didn’t break the horizon during his watch.

Joe was wide awake now, sitting and full of
questions. But at least he kept his voice low. “Who told ye? What
is they gonna do? ’Tis Stymie, isn’t it?”

Now it was Anne’s turn to open her eyes in
surprise. “What makes you think that?”

Joe’s shrug didn’t seem careless. “He’s a bad
’un.”

Anne could only nod in agreement. “And you’re
right. He’s one of them. Actually, I believe he’s their
leader.”

“Who else?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know. Perhaps, I’d
recognize their voices...” Anne bit her lower lip. “But I can’t be
sure. Anyway.” She brushed aside that problem with a sweep of her
hand. “I think the captain should know.”

“Well, why don’t ye tell him?”

Why didn’t she indeed? Anne had a perfectly
logical reason, but she didn’t think she could share it with Joe.
She didn’t know how he’d take an admission that she was really a
female, and needed to keep her distance from Captain MacQuaid lest
he recognize her.

“I just can’t, is all.” Anne sucked in her
breath. “You’ve known him longer than I. He’s more likely to
believe you.”

Joe seemed to find that explanation
acceptable for he bent forward. “So tell me,” was all he said.

“When do ye think they’ll try it?” Joe asked
when Anne finished running through most of the details. She didn’t
tell him that she ran from the captain’s cabin to hide in the
afterhold.

“I told you I don’t know.” Anne paused. “They
don’t know. But it could be anytime. And I think the captain should
be made aware of this.”

Joe rubbed his jaw. In the moonlight he
looked older than his ten years. “I better go tell ’em.”

Though her muscles cried for rest Anne
couldn’t settle down after Joe scurried off in the darkness. She
wriggled this way and that, trying to get comfortable, even though
she was too nervous to sleep.

Would the captain believe Joe? Would he know
what to do? Anne sighed and stretched out her legs. Wearing
breeches gave her welcome freedom of movement, but she’d sacrifice
it all for a bath and a night on a down-filled mattress.