The Jezebel's Daughter (28 page)

XXXV

Nassau, New Providence Island

October, 1718

From the bay, not much about Nassau seemed to have changed. The presence of so many ships flying British colors was the only indication that something was different. I had requested that Levasseur anchor off the north-eastern shore of the island, just out of easy sight of the fort and the village at its feet. Ben would row us the rest of the way. I didn't want it known that I had arrived on board a pirate ship. It didn't fit with my cover story.

During the week it had taken to sail from Ambergris to New Providence, Ben and I had come up with and ultimately scrapped four plans before finally settling on the truth... or at least a version of the truth. I would go to see Governor Rogers and present myself as Sebastian's pregnant wife and beg for his release, hoping to prey upon Rogers's goodwill towards a family man. If that didn't work, I would attempt to bribe him with some, maybe all, of the twenty-nine thousand pounds sterling I had in my purse. If neither of those things worked, I'd attempt to take him by force, hoping his guards wouldn't shoot a pregnant woman.

The sight of a gibbet was the other thing visibly different about Nassau. Two bodies hung from it, their faces blackened, their tongues protruding horribly. I looked away almost immediately, but not quickly enough that I didn't see Sebastian's face hanging there, superimposed over one of the dead men's. If Ben and I were unsuccessful, that was Sebastian's fate. I placed my hands over my belly, as if to shield our child from the view.

Once we were ashore, I went immediately to the governor's house, a large, newly-built mansion atop the hill next to the fort. I burst into the governor's offices, despite the soldiers standing at attention on either side of the door, despite a fussy little man whom I assumed was Rogers's secretary telling me that I couldn't enter the room.

I was confronted with my first view of His Excellency Woodes Rogers, Esquire, Governor, Captain-General and Vice-Admiral of the Bahama Islands as I came to a halt at the edge of the fine carpet underneath the man's mahogany desk. The desk appeared to be new as well, and I wondered briefly if it was constructed of wood taken from Ambergris. I could feel Ben at my back and his steady, quiet presence gave me confidence.

Rogers stood and I took a careful measure of him. He was an unassuming-looking man, dressed in a red coat lined with gold braid and a good linen shirt. His head was covered with a neat, powdered white wig—something I had not seen in three years and it struck me as funny. I swallowed down the giggles that threatened when I saw the horrible scar on the man's right cheek, the result of a musketball he had taken during his round-the-world journey. He didn't appear to be a hard man; there was a comfortable paunch around his middle and his eyes were kind.

He, too, looked me over, his eyes lingering for a moment at my belly before moving to Ben and then to the fussy little secretary who had followed us in, scolding and clucking at our heels like an enraged chicken. “Dermott?” Rogers said. “Who are these people?”

Dermott moved to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the governor as he said, “I don't know, sir. She just burst in here. Shall I have her removed?”

I stepped out from behind the secretary and placed my hand over the swell of my stomach. “Please, sir,” I said beseechingly to Rogers. “I wish to speak to you about a man you are holding in your gaol under false charges.”

The governor's brows rose and he nodded curtly to the secretary. “She may stay, Dermott,” he said before moving out from behind the desk to gently take my hand and lead me to a couch, where he helped me sit. “Your man, Mistress...?” He nodded towards Ben, who had remained standing in the same spot by the doors.

“MacIsaac,” I provided and saw Rogers react to the name. Sebastian hadn't given him an alias. “I'd like for him to stay with me. If that's alright with you, sir?”

“Certainly, Mistress MacIsaac,” he said. “Bring us some tea and then you may leave us, Dermott. Close the door after you.”

Dermott gave me a scathing look and left the office, closing the door carefully behind him. He returned a few moments later, carrying a full tea service on a silver tray. He poured two cups after setting the tray down on a low table in front of me, handed a cup to the governor and I, then left again. The silence that followed the secretary's retreat was punctuated by the ticking of a brass mantel clock that sat on a sideboard near the governor's desk, the sound of waves breaking on the beach outside an open window, and the delicate tinkling of teaspoons in cups as the governor and I fixed our tea—milk without sugar for him, milk and sugar for me.

Ben stood silent, a steady presence that hinted at violence should he not like the governor's treatment of me. Rogers cleared his throat and sat down in a green brocade chair across from me, cradling his tea cup and saucer in his lap. “I assume you are here about Captain Sebastian MacIsaac,” he said, his eyes steady on my face. “You are his wife? And you are carrying his child?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” I answered, calling on rusty manners instilled in me by my grandmother. “I have come to beg for his life.”

“Ah,” he said and took a sip of the tea. I mirrored him, savoring the taste of the first proper tea I'd had in months. It was perfectly brewed, bitter without being too harsh, and with just a hint of sweetness from the sugar. “That is impossible, Mistress MacIsaac. He has confessed to piracy and will be tried in two days' time. Should he be found guilty—and he almost assuredly will be—he will be hung.”

His words hit me like a fist to the gut. Something in my face alarmed Ben and his hand went to the knife he kept on his belt. I raised my hand, staying him, and shook my head. “Surely there must be some way to save him? For our child?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and blinking back the tears that rapidly filled my eyes.

Rogers fished in his sleeve and produced a snowy white handkerchief and handed it to me. I took it with a reflexive smile of gratitude and dabbed at my eyes. “I'm afraid there is nothing to be done,” he said once I'd put myself somewhat back together. “You see, I am in an awful predicament here, Mistress MacIsaac. I am new to this island and have the unenviable task of bringing its population to heel.” He sipped his tea and set the cup down on the table between us. “Your husband had some nine months to accept the pardon His Majesty was generous enough to issue to the pirates of this island and he did not take it. Indeed, despite being clapped in irons, the man still refuses to take the pardon, and has even confessed to his crimes.” He shrugged. “I cannot in good conscience allow a confessed pirate to go free, no matter how fetching his wife might be, no matter that the birth of his child is imminent.” He fixed me with a level look. “You understand.”

I took a deep breath and nodded to Ben, who produced my bulging purse and set it down on the table, half-way between the governor and I. “I understand that it takes quite a bit of money to begin a new colony,” I said, “which is essentially what you are doing here. You have to attract the right kind of people—farmers and merchants—in order to squeeze out the... less savory elements. And to do that, you must have money.” I nodded to the purse. “There is more than twenty-nine thousand pounds sterling in that bag, Your Excellency. Let Sebastian go and it is yours.” I knew I should have been more circumspect with my bribery offer but I didn't have the energy to play games.

Rogers's brows joined with his wig briefly and he stared at the purse on the table like a starving man staring at a joint roast. I could practically hear him thinking of all the good he could do with that amount of money. He took a deep breath and looked up at me. “Tell me where the new haven is,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What?” I frowned, confused and thrown off by his demand.

“The new haven,” he said again. “I know MacIsaac is responsible for it. Tell me where it is and I will let him go. You can take your money and escape, perhaps to America or France.”

I stared at him and then raised my eyes to Ben. He was stone-faced, though he shrugged a tiny bit. He would support me no matter what decision I made. I turned back to the governor and then lowered my eyes to my purse. As much as I wanted to give up the location of Ambergris Caye—because, after all, what had the men there ever done for me?—Sebastian wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't trade his life for his dreams of a new, safe haven.

I drew a deep breath and looked up at the governor again. He read my answer in my eyes and nodded curtly. “Well, then, I assume we are finished here?” He stood and I reluctantly joined him.

“May I see him?” I asked suddenly. “Please?”

“Your man stays on the shore and two of my soldiers go with you.”

“That's acceptable.” I picked my purse up from the table and handed it to Ben, who secured it to his belt once more, right next to his pistol and cutlass. I followed the governor to the doors. He opened them and we stepped through. Ben and I went to the front door of the mansion and I gripped Ben's sleeve.

“I made the right decision, didn't I?” I asked him, desperate for his reassurance. “Not to give up the haven?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice steady. I could read his surety in his eyes. “Sebastian not be wanting you to give that up just to save him. He be proud of you. I be proud of you.”

My eyes filled with tears again and I used Rogers's handkerchief to dash them away. “But there's no other way to free him,” I said miserably. “He's going to die.”

Ben gripped my arms, his fingers digging into them, pulling me out of the spiraling maelstrom of desperation that threatened to swallow me whole at the thought of losing Sebastian. “Think of the baby,” he said. “He be needing his mama. Go say your good-byes to the Captain. I'll wait on the shore for you.” He hugged me tightly then, pressed my Bible into my hands, and left with a kiss on my brow.

* * *

I followed the soldiers assigned to me up to the fort and waited while the door to the gaol was unlocked. The stench of hopelessness, of human filth, of death and decay hit my nose once I was ushered inside and I nearly vomited. I pressed the governor's handkerchief to my nose, breathing through it to cut the stench and followed the soldiers down to the lower levels of the gaol.

We passed by some familiar faces. I spotted Duquesne, Harris, Rossing, and other
Jezebel
crew members, who clung to the bars of their cells and called out to me. I smiled at them, touched their hands briefly, but didn't tarry to speak with them. I wanted only to see Sebastian.

He was in the last cell and stood at the cell door. I gasped when I saw him. His left eye was swollen and bruised, his lip split and crusted over with dried blood and a large black and purple bruise was on his jawline. His clothing was torn and filthy, his hands bloody, his feet bare. “Loreley?” he managed. His voice sounded rough. “What are you doing here?”

I choked out a sob and rounded on the soldiers who were with me. “Open that door!” I demanded, pointing at Sebastian's cell. “Let me tend to him.”

“Can't do that, Mistress. Against orders.”

“Sod your orders! Lock me in with him. Just please, let me touch him.”

The soldiers exchanged a look and one of them finally drew a ring of heavy keys from his belt and unlocked the door. I stepped inside and the door was locked behind me. Sebastian grabbed me and held me as if he wanted to absorb me into himself, as if he could fold the two of us into one person through sheer force of will. I clung to him fiercely, not bothering to hide my tears now.

He held me out at arm's length then, his eyes raking with a physical force over my body, lingering on my belly the longest. “Look at you,” he breathed. “You're showing now.” He put his hands over the swell of the child inside me and looked up into my eyes. “Have you felt him move yet?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. Finally, I took a deep breath and said, “Yes, last month. Soon after you left. Ben tried to feel him, but couldn't.”

“Maybe he'll move for me.” He kept one hand on my belly and took my hand in the other. “What are you doing here?”

“Rackham told me you'd been taken. I had to come, Sebastian,” I said, willing him to understand. “I couldn't stay away. I came to beg for your life.”

“And? What did Rogers say?”

“He wanted me to give up the haven—”

“You didn't? Please tell me you didn't!”

“I didn't,” I assured him. “I tried to bribe him with all the money we have and he wouldn't take it.” I sobbed again and my knees felt weak. He grabbed me and clutched me to his body again. “You're... You're going to—”

“Hush, my love,” he whispered into my ear, his filthy hands stroking my hair, my back, my sides. “It's alright. I've made peace with it. He's letting most of the crew go, so I've saved my men.”

“What about Duquesne? And Harris? Rossing?”

He shook his head. “They're senior crewmen. They go to the gallows with me.”

“Time's up, Mistress,” the solider said. “Let's go.”

“One more moment,” Sebastian said, gripping me tightly. “Just one more moment, for pity's sake.” The soldier nodded and turned his back to us, giving us a modicum of privacy.

Sebastian cupped my face in his hands, his eyes lingering on my face for a long moment before he lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative as though we were kissing for the first time. It quickly grew heated and desperate, and I could taste our tears mixing together on our lips. He broke the kiss and took a shuddering breath before lowering his hands from my face to my belly once more. “Name him Andrew, for my father,” he said, his voice thick with tears. “Or if it's a girl, name her Isla, for my mother.”