My Seaswept Heart (12 page)

That was the thought in her head when Joe
plopped down beside her. Anne jerked onto her knees facing him.
“Well, what did he say?”

“Before or after he striped me back with his
whip?”

Anne’s lips thinned. “You look none the worse
for wear to me. And come to think of it I don’t believe Captain
MacQuaid even has a whip.”

“Maybe he don’t, but he sure threatened to
use one on me when I first went poundin’ on his door.”

“Simply a reaction to being awakened, I’m
sure.” Anne sidled closer. “You did tell him, didn’t you?”

“Aye. But I think it were a waste ’a me
time.” Joe gave Anne a none too gentle shove and sprawled out on
the deck. “He didn’t seem ta set much store by it.”

“What? You mean he didn’t believe you?”

Joe shrugged off the hand on his arm. “Oh, he
didn’t doubt me none. Just acted as if it weren’t no big deal. Said
there’s always malcon... malcon...”

“Malcontents,” Anne supplied without
thinking.

“Aye, that’s what he said. There’s always
them on a ship who wants ta take over, but it weren’t nothin’ to
worry ’bout.” With that he turned over, showing Anne his back and
growling, “Go ta sleep and leave me be,” when Anne tried to roust
him.

Frustrated, Anne slumped back against the
coiled rope. What was she to do now? She hadn’t eavesdropped on a
group of grumblers who planned to do nothing about their
grievances. They were serious, especially Stymie, about a mutiny.
They planned to get rid of Captain MacQuaid. And even if Anne
didn’t need him to find d’Porteau and Arthur, she couldn’t imagine
being on board the sloop with Stymie in charge. It was bad enough
just trying to stay out of his way.

Perhaps she’d simply go to the captain
herself and convince him the threat was real. Except how many times
could she be around him and hope that he didn’t recognize her?
She’d been lucky so far. Deciding there was nothing more to be done
tonight, Anne settled down on her blanket and fell asleep.

The next morning dawned as bright as the
Caribbean sun and early for Anne who slept but a few hours. She
stretched, noticing that she was alone in the little alcove of
space and went in search of Joe. She found him aft, leaning against
the windlass, crunching on a biscuit.

“Thought ye was gonna sleep the day away,” he
said, barely glancing her way, but reaching in his pocket and
offering her a biscuit.

Anne took it and with an inward shrug jammed
it into her jaw and broke off a bite. She already learned these
delicacies were not easily broken by front teeth. “I was tired,”
she said around her food. With a yawn she slid down beside the boy.
“What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ watch.”

Anne followed his gaze. First in view came
Stymie sitting on his haunches with three other men. They were
playing a game, each tossing a knife into a circle and seeing who
came closer to hitting a piece of sailing. So far none had
succeeded.

Beyond them, on the quarterdeck, stood the
captain. He was leaning against the rail, looking out to sea, his
back toward Anne and Joe... and Stymie.

“I figure, if the cap’n won’t watch out for
hisself, then I’ll have to do it.”

Anne turned toward the boy, her eyes wide.
“Then you’re not mad about last night?”

“Nay.” Joe grinned. “I just ain’t me best
when someone wakes me.”

Anne smiled back, then her expression
sobered. “I better talk to Captain MacQuaid. Perhaps he’ll listen
to me.”

“Doubt it.” Joe took another bite of his
breakfast. “But go ahead and try if’n ye like. I’m tellin’ ye he
just ain’t scared of Stymie.”

By the end of the day Anne was thinking Joe’s
assessment was correct. The two kept their watch over the captain
every time they weren’t called upon to do anything... and on this
boat that was nearly all the time. Captain MacQuaid went about his
duties and a considerable amount of rest time, with seemingly not a
care in the world.

Stymie appeared equally at ease.

No hint of a mutiny.

“Ye think ye could ’ave been wrong?”

“No. I know what I heard?”

Still she wondered as the sky darkened on
another day at sea. A day with no sign of d’Porteau, a stomach that
never really felt calm, and watching the captain and his adversary
do nothing. Wondered not if she heard correctly, but what she was
thinking when she stowed aboard in the first place. Why she even
asked Captain MacQuaid for his assistance.

Anne lay on the deck watching the stars
appear, waiting for Joe to return. He’d gone below to use the head,
still apparently not suspicious that Anne never went at the same
time. At least that much of pretending to be a boy wasn’t
difficult. Actually none of it had been too bad; she probably
wouldn’t even worry about fooling Jamie MacQuaid if he hadn’t known
her as a woman.

Desired her as a woman.

Anne sat up, disgusted with herself for
thinking of that. So he’d kissed her. Knowing him, he probably went
after anything in petticoats. She tried to suppress a giggle as she
folded her hands beneath her head. What would the captain think
when he discovered she’d been on board all along? She’d tell him
after this was all over. When they captured d’Porteau and found
Arthur, then she’d yank off her cap and wipe the dirt off her face.
A smile curved her lips. She couldn’t wait to see his
expression.

Anne realized she fell asleep thinking about
the captain when she awoke, her body humming. “Oh my heavens.” She
sat up, wiping trembling hands across her brow. She’d been
dreaming, but it seemed so real. The captain was lying beside her
doing things to her with his hands and mouth and she hadn’t been
able to resist... hadn’t wanted to resist.

Anne tried to push those thoughts from her
mind. She found the pirate captain repulsive. She did. Anne leaned
back against the rope... and realized Joe wasn’t there. Unless he
came and went while she slept, he’d been at the head way too
long.

Anne pushed to her feet, stretching and
taking a look around. All seemed calm enough. The
Lost Cause
lolled about on a peaceful sea, what wind there was, filling her
sails and taking her skimming into the night.

There seemed to be even fewer pirates on
watch tonight. Deciding if she could fool the pirate in the light
she could certainly do as much to the blackamoor in the dark, Anne
climbed the ladder to the quarterdeck where he stood at the wheel.
He didn’t seem to recognize her, but he hadn’t seen Joe either.

Nor had any of the other men on watch.
Gathering her nerve, and deciding when she found him, she’d tell
him what she thought of the scare he gave her, Anne climbed through
the hatch.

The few lanterns swaying overhead on the
berth deck gave off little light. But enough for Anne to know that
Joe wasn’t among the men lucky enough to have space for a hammock
on the crowded boat.

From there she went down the port aft
gangway. She knew better than to try the captain’s door. And
wandering beyond only led her to the dark, dank hole where she’d
heard Stymie and his friends. She didn’t want to go in there again
but something drew her. Something she couldn’t explain.

She could hear the rats scurrying about, and
the bilge water dripping. Sweat broke out across her upper lip as
she moved further along the cable tiers. When she stopped and
looked around, unable to see anything in the darkness, Anne called
herself a fool for coming in here. Nothing was to be gained by
roaming around in the bowels of the ship. Joe was probably on deck
asleep by now and she was—

The sound was little more than a whimper, at
first too near the call of vermin for her to notice. But it kept
up, a low keening that tore at her heart.

“Joe?” Her first call was tentative. “Joe, is
that you?”

Anne climbed onto a grated shelf, moving
toward the whimper. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness
and she could make out shapes, but it didn’t keep her from banging
her knee into a timber.

“Joe. Answer me.” The sound was louder now
and she pulled herself onto another coil of rope in time to hear
him call out in pain.

“Oh dear Lord, Joe!”

“He’s a spawn of the devil.”

Jamie rolled his eyes heavenward, then lifted
his hand, palm out when Deacon leveled his stare toward him. “I’m
not disputing your words, Deacon. Really I’m not.” Pushing his
chair. back on two legs, Jamie rested his own booted feet, crossed,
on his desk, knocking a log book onto the deck in the process. He
merely shrugged. “Unfortunately he appears to be our devil for the
moment.”

“Does that mean you will do nothing about
this plot?” This from Keena who sat on the bunk in Jamie’s
cabin.

Stretching back, Jamie grimaced. “Are we not
giving Stymie too much credit? A plot seems a wee bit more than he
can handle.”

“The boy heard him. You said so
yourself,”

“’Tis true, I did,” Jamie allowed. “But now
that I think on it, Joe didn’t seem to have some of his facts
straight. He couldn’t tell me where he was, or where Stymie was for
that matter.”

“Didn’t you question the boy?”

“Of course I did... some. Hell, he woke me
up, for God’s sake. Sorry, Deacon,” Jamie added when he saw his
quartermaster’s expression. Cursing was one thing, in Deacon’s
mind. Taking the Lord’s name in vain was something else
entirely.

“Perhaps we should talk to him again.”

“Talk to him all ye wish.” Shifting his
weight, Jamie sent the two front chair legs banging to the floor.
“Don’t misunderstand me. I’d be the first to admit that Stymie
wants to be captain. Hell, he’d kill me for the privilege and be
glad of it. But hatching a plot isn’t for the likes of him.”

“It would take a deposed prince to do that,
eh, Cap’n?”

Jamie let the barb pass. “It would take
someone a wee bit smarter than Stymie.”

“Perhaps.” Keena folded his fingers. “But I
do not believe you give that man enough credit.”

Jamie looked from the blackamoor to Deacon.
“Would ye mind standing still? Your constant pacing is making me
uneasy.” When the black-garbed man stopped in mid-stride to face
him, Jamie’s expression was contrite. “If you both think there be
something to this...” He shrugged. “Perhaps I should speak with the
lad again. Though if Stymie wants the
Lost Cause
so dearly,
I do not know why he doesn’t just challenge me for it.”

“And risk fighting you? Besides, he knows
better than to put anything to a vote. No matter how much the crew
grumbles about chasin’ d’Porteau all over the Caribbean, they won’t
kick you out.”

“Grumbles?” Jamie leaned his elbows on the
cluttered desk. “Hell, they should be singing me praises. Diamonds
and rubies are worth more than we can take from a half-dozen
worm-infested merchantmen.” Glancing up Jamie caught the look that
passed between Keena and Deacon. His eyes narrowed. “What in the
hell is goin’ on here? Tell me what ye be thinking.”

Deacon went and flopped down on the window
seat, his arms crossed, his expression blank, leaving it for Keena
to receive Jamie’s stare. He shrugged his powerful, dark shoulders.
“We wonder how much the woman had to do with your decision to
pursue d’Porteau.”

“The woman?” Jamie knew exactly what woman
they meant.

“In the Shark’s Tooth. She
was
a
comely wench.”

“And God knows you’re susceptible to the
breed.” This from Deacon, who turned back to contemplate the inky
sea after delivering the line.

Jamie twisted back in his chair. “Let me be
sure I’m hearing this right. Ye think I’m chasing down the
Frenchman because I’m lusting after some lass?”

“Now, Cap’n, we didn’t say—”

“Aye, ye did. You think I’d risk the
Lost
Cause
on a roll in the hay.”

“There is no need to—”

Jamie never discovered what Keena was
planning to say for at that moment someone pounded on the door.
Before he could ask who was there, the portal burst open. The lad,
Andy, rushed in, filthy as ever, his face a mask of panic.

“What in the hell—”

“He’s hurt!” Anne tried to catch her breath.
“Hurt badly, I fear.” Without thinking she grabbed the captain’s
arm. “Come on.” Her yank didn’t budge him, but he did stand, though
he didn’t seem inclined to follow.

“Who’s hurt? Lad, you’ll have to be
more—”

“Joe.” Anne swallowed and spoke as calmly as
she could. But she had to leave him to get help and she hated for
him to be alone. “He’s been beat up down in the cable tier.” Before
she could finish the words the captain was out the door, his two
officers on his heels. Anne followed as quickly as she could,
running into Keena’s back when he paused to grab a lantern of its
hook.

“Over here. Bring the light.”

Anne pushed around the blackamoor and Deacon
and climbed to where the captain crouched beside Joe. In the
wavering puddle of light she saw Jamie glance up. Their eyes met,
hers questioning, his unreadable. Then he scooped up Joe and
sloshed through the water toward the entrance.