The Jezebel's Daughter (23 page)

“Of course. Here, lie down.” He helped me stretch out on the cot and get comfortable before he slid down behind me, pressing his chest to my back and putting his arm around me protectively. “Alright?”

“Very.”  I snuggled into him and was silent for a moment or two as I watched the flames jump and dance in the small hearth across from the cot. “How did you manage to persuade Hamilton to keep your secret about the Jacobite gold?” I asked.

I felt his chest expand as he heaved a great sigh. “Do you really want to talk about this right now? We can discuss ship's business when we're on the ship. Until then, let's just leave Captain MacIsaac and Mistress Jones to their own devices. I wish only to be Sebastian and Loreley tonight.”

I nodded and let the question go unanswered. He was right; we had this rare time together and could talk about anything. “I hated Graves,” he said some time later. “Hated him for what he did to you. Hated him for keeping you a prisoner. Hated him for hurting you. I heard you screaming that night.” He pulled me closer and I covered his hand with mine. “The night he... In Dupris's rooms. I wanted to kill him. I stood at the door, pistol in my hand, and listened to you screaming.”

I turned towards him, facing him now, meeting his eyes. “Why didn't you stop him?” I asked.

“I was afraid he would kill you. He was an animal. You knew that. There was no way I could know what he would do to you if I interrupted him.” His expression was beseeching as he silently pleaded with me to forgive him for not interfering.

I kissed him softly, cradled his cheek in the palm of my hand. There was nothing to forgive. He had, after all, killed Graves, freeing me and giving me back control over my own life. He pulled me even closer against his body, molding me to his chest and belly. His hands moved to my lower back, pressing me to him, stroking over the swell of my hips and bottom. Lowering his mouth to mine, he kissed me firmly and the hunger that had been present in our earlier embraces returned, a smoldering fire that built slowly but never engulfed us.

“I have wanted you since I first saw you, walking down the steps to Dupris's rooms,” he said, his lips still against mine. “You were so delicate, like a songbird, yet there was a fire inside you that couldn't be quenched.” He reached up and traced his fingers along my jawbone.
“No matter the abuse that Graves visited upon you, no matter the horror of watching Tansy murdered in front of you, no matter the awful knowledge that you have taken men's lives, that fire still burns inside you. You are the strongest woman I have ever known.” He kissed me again and suddenly the layers of clothing between us were too much. I wanted to feel his skin pressed against my own. I wanted to taste his flesh, feel the angles and planes of his body, hear the noises coming from his throat as he sought pleasure in my embrace.

I gripped his shoulders and pulled him roughly against me, my kisses demanding and hungry now. My hands moved over his body, touching and stroking, cupping his bottom and pulling his hips against me. I could feel his desire, swollen and insistent against my belly, and wanted nothing more than to fling my legs astride him and ride him as I'd seen Katie atop Graves. I reached down between our bodies but he caught my hand and broke the kiss.

“You're still hurt,” he said, gripping my wrist gently. “This can wait until you're fully healed. There is nothing to stop us now. It will happen, but only when it won't hurt you.” He kissed my forehead and helped me to turn over onto my opposite side. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I said with a nod. He tucked me against his body, holding me protectively and nuzzling my ear through my hair.

“Good. Sleep now. I leave in the morning and I want you to give me a kiss that I can carry with me across the sea.” He gripped my hand and I raised it to my mouth to press a kiss against his palm. He made a happy noise and moments later, I could feel the steady, even rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He left the next morning, a sad smile on his lips and his hand still curled around my kiss.

* * *

I spent nearly every moment of the next month with Vivienne and her family, healing and getting stronger. Soon I was back to full strength and health, and had been adopted into the
manbo
's fold. She and I had had many discussions about vodou and Christianity, and she had helped me reconcile the two faiths. I came to see that it was as Ben had said—Bondye and the Christian God were different faces of the same being. The
lwa
and the saints, too, were one and the same. With this realization came a certain amount of peace and harmony, and I felt more at ease than I ever had before.

I also became familiar with Vivienne's family and the people in her
hounfo,
whom she protected and cared for. They were, as Ben had mentioned, escaped slaves, hiding from their former owners and the French government in the forests of Saint-Domingue. Life was difficult for them. Not only were they under constant threat of discovery and a subsequent brutal execution, but they survived on food foraged from the forest around them, a few skinny pigs and chickens they'd managed to steal from near-by plantations, and scant crops planted with stolen seeds.

I wanted to do something to help them, to repay their kindness to me. I felt a certain bond with them, and not just because they had saved my life. Graves had kept me a prisoner, a slave, in the brothel in Nassau. I knew a little of what they had endured on the plantations of Saint-Domingue, though of course my suffering was only a tiny sliver of theirs.

One evening, as I was helping Vivienne prepare the evening meal, I broached the subject with her. “Are you and your family happy here?” I asked, my eyes on the bread I was kneading.

My question was met with an extended silence and I darted a sidelong look at Vivienne's face. She was staring out into the jungle, though her gaze was years in the past. “My first master, he took me from my Mama's arms when I was only a girl, no more than five or six, and sold me to another
blan
. First the new man turn me out into the fields, tell me to weed the rows. When I was older, he send me to the kitchens, but now I am under his roof and he rape me whenever he want.” She stopped talking and closed her eyes for a moment. I reached over and took her hand and held it tightly. She opened her eyes and looked at me, tears swimming in their black depths. “Yes,” she said in a constricted voice. “I am happy here.” She let go of my hand and went back to grinding corn.

“But you're not safe here. Your people, your family—they're not safe.”

“We are free here. I am not raped whenever my master want. I can keep my children with me. I can honor the
lwa
and Bondye.”

“If you could leave this place and go anywhere in the entire world, where would you go?”

Vivienne blinked in shock at my question. It was clear that no one had ever asked her such a thing. She was quiet for a long moment and only the sound of the stones grinding the corn filled the air between us. “I hear stories that in England, no one can own a slave. All Negroes are free there.” She turned to look at me. “Is that true?”

“I don't know if that's true outside of London, but I do know that my family does not own slaves. I don't know any families who do.”

“Then that is where I would like to go. I would like to go to a place where my family and I can be truly free.”

I smiled and went back to kneading bread. It would take some time to save up again, but someday, I would buy passage to England for Vivienne and her entire family. It was how I would repay them for saving my life.

PART THREE

1718

XXVIII

On board the Jezebel

January, 1718

Ben and Sebastian came for me in mid-September and the first thing I did after leaving Vivienne's compound was stop in the market in Le Cap. Somehow Ben had managed to recover my purse from the thief and I spent some of the money on new clothing, since I was no longer required to hide my sex on board the
Jezebel
. I was fitted for stays and I also ordered some skirts and blouses based on the pattern of men's clothing, hoping they would be comfortable as well as practical for life on board a ship. While I had no problems going back to breeches and weskets, I wanted something a little more feminine. Sebastian found weaponry—a French saber and a pair of matched French sea service pistols—that were perfect for me and when I climbed on board the
Jezebel
for the first time in months, I looked every inch the pirate queen I felt.

The men were wary of me at first, unsure of how to act around me now that I was suddenly no longer Mr. Jones, the shy, bashful master's mate, but instead Miss Jones, the confident, out-going quartermaster. It took a few weeks of awkward conversations and uncomfortable interactions before the crew was able to adjust to my presence. There were still a handful of men who felt I would bring the ship bad luck simply because I was a woman, but once they were reminded that I had been a woman all along and they were alive and wealthy because of me, they soon came around to a grudging acceptance.

As soon as I was settled into my cabin, Sebastian summoned me to his wardroom. I settled into one of the chairs across the desk from his and he closed the door and took his seat. We stared at each other for a moment or two across the desk and I chuckled softly to cover my sudden nervousness. “I can't believe I'm here,” I said. “I mean, I can't believe the men allowed me to come back. I can't believe they made me quartermaster.”

Sebastian smiled a bit and began sorting through things on his desk. “You earned it,” he said. “With your cleverness, your loyalty, and your bravery. It takes a lot to impress them, but you did it.” He held out a stack of books to me. “Now, since we have some time until we reach our next port, here are the quartermaster's log books and the ledgers for the ship's accounts. Take them to your cabin and familiarize yourself with them.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Dinner later?”

“Yes, of course. Five bells, last dog watch? Here?” I nodded and rose from my seat to follow him to the door.

“I'll see you then.” I grazed his cheek with a gentle kiss and took the stack of books to my cabin, across the passage way from Sebastian's. I settled into my bunk and flipped through the top log book. The first entry I saw was dated November of 1715, and mentioned joining the salvage of the Spanish treasure fleet sunk by the same hurricane that had made me an orphan. According to Hamilton's log book, the
Jezebel
and her crew amassed a little more than fifty thousand pounds sterling in the week they spent on the wrecks. I double checked the date and found the accompanying entry in the top ledger. Hamilton's entry listed a pay-out of 665 pounds sterling per share, and made note that the ship's share consisted of an extra 123 pounds sterling. That must be what Sebastian had sent to France. A quick check of the other ledger proved this true.

I sighed unhappily and set aside the ledgers. I was not at all comfortable with the idea that I would be complicit in stealing from a crew who had accepted me with open arms, despite the fact that I was a woman and I had been lying to them for the better part of two years. Sebastian's request that I continue keeping Hamilton's double books had backed me into an uncomfortable corner. If I exposed Sebastian's perfidy, he would most certainly be hung from the yard. Obviously, this was not acceptable, and left me with little else to do but continue with the ruse. I slipped the other ledger—the one that reflected each payment sent to France—beneath the mattress in my bunk and left everything else on the desk before exiting my cabin and going topside.

We stayed at sea for most of the winter, making the rounds of the spy network and acting on the information they had, we took two ships. Sebastian sent nearly two hundred pounds to France and I couldn't sleep for days after. I needed to talk to Sebastian about this arrangement and my discomfort with it.

We were in Havana when we heard some disturbing rumors about a Royal Navy flotilla making its way to Nassau, consisting of three fifth- or sixth-rate ships, plus a few merchantmen and assorted supply ships. They were carrying a new governor, his support staff, and a pardon from His Majesty George I, for any and all pirates who swore allegiance to the Crown and gave up their violent ways. Two nights before Christmas, Sebastian called a meeting of the
Jezebel
's officers in his quarters. In addition to Sebastian and I, Ben was present, as were Duquesne the boatswain, Ferro the ship's surgeon, Weiss the gunner, and Harris the helmsman.

“Gentlemen,” Sebastian said and gave me an apologetic smile. “And lady,” he amended. I gave him a tiny nod and he continued. “You've no doubt heard the rumors of the imminent arrival in Nassau of a new governor and a flotilla of Royal Navy ships, including at least three warships. We've heard these rumors before. In fact, we've been hearing them since Trott left the New Providence twenty years ago. But this time, there's the added detail of a pardon from the King. That has never before been mentioned and I believe it merits some discussion.”

He paused for a moment and looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the faces of the men present. They were serious, hardened men, brave and loyal, and not prone to panic or flights of fancy. But alongside the determination, I saw hints of fear and worry. And that, more than the rumors of new governors and British warships, scared and worried me. It meant they feared there was more than a kernel of truth in the talk.

“Are we to believe these rumors then?” I asked, breaking the uneasy silence and drawing the men's attention.

“We should hold our judgment until we return to Nassau,” Duquesne said. The men nodded in agreement. “Though perhaps to be on the safe side, we should anchor at Sun Caye and send a jolly-boat to New Providence. It wouldn't do to sail into Nassau harbor and have the ship stolen out from underneath us by this new governor.” The men quickly agreed to Duquesne's proposal and the meeting broke up, leaving Sebastian and I alone in his cabin.

He took my hand and led me to a couch that sat across from a large bookcase. We settled down, side by side, and he drew me against his body and kissed the top of my head. “How are you adjusting?” he asked.

“It's fine. Still a little strange to be addressed as Mistress Jones, but everyone seems to be making peace with it.”

“Good, good,” he said, sounding a little distracted. I straightened and looked up at him, my brows raised in question. He flashed me a quick smile and shook his head, dismissing whatever thoughts he was entertaining. “After we investigate the situation in Nassau, we'll be headed to Cayenne to rendezvous with the
Achille
. And after that, who knows? Have you ever been to Bermuda?”

“Bermuda?” I blinked, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in conversation. “We took on water there after making the crossing from Portsmith, before continuing...” My breath caught and I swallowed with difficulty. “Before the
Resolution
sank,” I finished in a soft voice.

He pulled me against his side again and kissed my forehead. “Where were you headed?”

“Antigua. St. John's. My father was made governor of the colony.”

“Your entire family went?”

“Yes. My mother and father and my two brothers.” I closed my eyes and relaxed against him, safe and removed from the pain and terror of that night. “Father thought they would both have careers in the Navy. He said Mattie—Matthias, the oldest—would be an admiral one day and Gunnar would be a captain.”

“Your mother is Prussian?”

“Bavarian, actually. From Munich. How did you guess?”

“Your names. Matthias, Gunnar, and Loreley. Did she name you for the Rhine maiden?”

I chuckled softly and looked up at him. I cupped his cheek in the palm of my hand and said, “Yes. It seems I was fated from birth to ensnare...”
Fate
. Papa Legba and Ezili Danto's words came back to me. They told me I had a destiny, something that had yet to be fulfilled, and that was why I was alive now.

I moved away from Sebastian and sat up straight, my brow puckered in a thoughtful frown. Could this—whatever this was—between Sebastian and I be my fate? I was to... What? Save him? Kill him, like the siren I was named for?

“What is it? What's wrong?”

I shook my head minutely and turned to face him. “When I was... Well, Ben and Manman Vivienne said it was when I was dead, some of their spirits—the
lwa
—came to me in a vision. One of them wanted to take me, but the other two wouldn't let him. They both said I had a destiny that I had to fulfill before I could die.”

Sebastian stared at me for a moment and then chuckled softly. “And you think your destiny is to kill me? Entrap me with your song and drown me in the sea?” When I didn't immediately deny his words, the smirk slowly disappeared from his face. “Oh, Loreley,” he said softly as he shook his head in disbelief. “There is no such thing as Fate or destiny. We make our own choices. Your mother couldn't possibly have known that we would meet when she named you. I think we're safe from prophecy.”

I nodded but didn't speak. Instead, I returned to his embrace and kept my thoughts to myself. Most likely my mother hadn't known my future when she named me, but perhaps God—or maybe it had been Bondye—had guided her heart to the name. Maybe I would, either willingly or unknowingly, cause Sebastian's death. But maybe I wouldn't. And since my brush with death, I had determined to live as much as possible in the small amount of time I had on Earth. Possibility, maybe, and perhaps did not figure into that plan, so I abandoned my fears and turned my face to accept Sebastian's kiss.