The Valentine Legacy (40 page)

“Oh, yes I do. You see, Blackbeard's great-grandmother—Valentine—wasn't just anybody. She was one of the colonists on Roanoke Island. She recorded everything in her diary, and I've read that diary.”

“A colonist of Roanoke Island spawned Blackbeard's ancestors? My God, that's amazing. Her name was Valentine? Strange name for a girl born in England.”

“I know what happened to her, what happened to the colonists. You would like to know—I can see it in your eyes.”

He laughed again. “Oh, Jessie, you're such a smart girl. Of course I'd like to know. But listen to me. Once I'm rich, then I doubt I'll give a good damn about any more of that nonsense, and that's what it is, nonsense. It's a way for poor men who are very smart to justify themselves to the world,
to justify themselves to themselves, really, to convince themselves that it gives them some sort of worth. It's pathetic, really, but soon I won't be one of those men. I'll be rich.” He sighed deeply, sat back against the gnarled trunk of a live-oak tree, and clasped his hands over his waist.

Jessie said, “The colonists were starving, and there was rampant disease. They weren't going to survive.”

She saw the fascination in his eyes as they narrowed on her face. She didn't say anything more.

He said, “In the packet just beside you is some food. I'm hungry. You must be as well. Soon James will wonder where you are. Soon he will go to the village to ask about you. Then he will know you're gone. Make me some food, Jessie.”

“All right,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of a dull knife.

“Don't even consider trying to stab me. I'll punch you in your round little belly, and we'll see what happens to you and that get of yours.”

She couldn't bring herself to eat anything, even the cold slices of pinfish, fried and well spiced, placed between slices of dark oat bread. She'd prayed he'd be willing to compromise with her if she told him about Roanoke Island. She'd certainly whetted his interest. She'd just have to think of something else. She was surprised when he said some time later, “I know what happened to the colonists. Most educated men do. It was duly noted by many that there's a group of Indians who live in the far west of Virginia. They're known to have blue eyes and fair skin.”

“You're dead wrong,” she said.

“Well, yes, I suppose I am, particularly if this Valentine truly was Blackbeard's great-grandmother as she does appear to have been. He came from England. Well, it's a puzzle then.”

He looked hungry now, and she knew it wasn't for food.
She just shook her head. She would tell him no more. Compton Fielding said finally, “Very well. We will amuse ourselves. I will ask you questions about the colonists and you will answer.”

“No, I won't, not unless you promise me you'll not hurt James or my babe.”

He raised his hand, making a fist in her face, his smile never faltering.

S
HE JERKED AWAY
, rolling onto her side, her arms over her belly. He didn't hit her. He laughed.

“I'll find out soon enough all about Valentine and the lost colonists,” he said. “Sit up, Jessie. I just wanted to make sure you believe I'm serious about all this. I'm pleased that you do. Also, you seem to care about the babe in your belly. I fancy that will make you all the more cooperative.”

“What are you going to do now?” she asked as she righted herself, leaning back against the scruffy tree trunk, her arms over her chest. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was certain he must hear it.

“I already told you. We'll—” He broke off as a shout came from not twenty feet away.

“Miss Jessie! Where are you? Miss Jessie!”

“You make a sound, and I'll kill whoever that is.”

She believed him. It was Gypsom. She held herself very still. But it wasn't to be.

Gypsom stumbled into the small clearing. He came to a dead halt, staring at Jessie, at Mr. Fielding, who was holding a very ugly pistol, pointed at him.

Gypsom said helplessly, “Miss Jessie, I saw ye walkin' with this man and ye must have dropped yer bonnet.”

“Did you drop your bonnet on purpose, Jessie?”

“No,” she said, and prayed she sounded as though she meant it. “It's all right, Gypsom.”

“Actually it's not all right at all, Gypsom,” Mr. Fielding said very pleasantly. “Miss Jessie came with me to this charming little den of mine. Why don't you sit down? You're one of James's stable lads. You're fine with horses, he told me. Yes, sit right there, Gypsom. Well, we're gaining quite a fistful of folk, aren't we? What do you think, Jessie? Should I kill him or send him back to James to get all this started right and proper?”

“Send him to James. Don't hurt him.”

“I was going to write a note but perhaps it's better to send you, Gypsom. However, you know where she is. What will I do about that?”

“Why do you need to hide me at all? Just take me with you to the place where the treasure is. Gypsom can bring James. Then you can take what part of the treasure you want and leave us alone.”

“You make it sound so very simple, my dear girl. Is it that simple? I wonder. Very well. Gypsom, listen carefully to me, for your mistress's life depends on your fine execution of my words.”

Five minutes later Gypsom ducked beneath the live-oak branches and was lost from view.

“Now, my dear Jessie, why don't you take me to where the treasure is?”

 

“Compton Fielding? The bookstore owner? The scholarly man who plays the violin and speaks French as well as I do? That Compton Fielding?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. James. He decided to send me back to you, not to kill me. I was very glad about that.”

“So,” James said slowly, thankful for the moment that he and Gypsom were alone, as Gypsom had requested, “you and I are to take our poles and go to the marsh. He'll have Jessie there. We get the treasure out and he takes what he wants. Then he'll leave us alone.”

“Aye, Mr. James. He said to tell you how much you owed him, what with him saving Miz Jessie's life two times. Mr. James?”

“Yes?”

“I think he likes you, but I don't trust him. There's something not quite right in his brain.” Gypsom tapped the side of his head and rolled his eyes.

“Jessie was all right? You're certain?”

She'd been messed up something awful but Gypsom knew the master didn't need any more fretting so he said quickly, “She's jest fine, Mr. James. Jest fine.”

“We'll leave now, Gypsom. Not a word to anyone.”

Before he left the house, James slipped a small gun in his boot. Nothing else to do. Oddly enough, no one seemed to be around so he got out without questions. He didn't like keeping them in the dark, didn't like it one little bit, but he didn't see he had a choice. He wasn't about to take any chances with Jessie's life. And the babe's. James had known fear before, goodly doses of it, but nothing like this. If Compton Fielding wanted, James would give him all Blackbeard's bloody treasure. Who the hell cared? Only Jessie mattered to him. She had the spirit and the fearlessness of the best of his thoroughbreds, and that worried him even more. What if she tried to escape from Compton Fielding? He could even picture her attacking him. It made his blood run frigid in his veins.

That, he thought as he strode down the rutted path beside Gypsom, carrying one of the long poles, was a kicker. He frankly couldn't imagine life without her now. Life took odd twists and turns. He didn't mind that. What he hated was when life was out of his control, as it was now.

 

“Hello, James. I see Gypsom brought you. I've been watching you walk here. Fortunately there's a small rise just over there—at least until the next storm flattens it—and I would
have seen if you'd brought any of the others with you. You didn't. You just might have saved your and Jessie's lives.”

James said, his eyes on Jessie, “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, James.”

“Good. Now, Compton, you can have all of Blackbeard's treasure. I don't care. It's that simple. Understand, though, there might not be anything here. A lot can happen in two hundred years. It's possible that if the treasure was truly attached to the ballast stones, it broke off and sank. It's possible someone already found the treasure. It's possible it was never here in the first place.”

“We will find out shortly. You and Gypsom stick those poles of yours down into the muck. Be careful, James. I
will
kill her. I don't have anything to lose. Remember that.”

“I intend only to see if there's a treasure,” James said. “If there is, take what you want and leave us alone.”

“I've always believed you to be a reasonable man. You're young, but you think things through. Jessie, here, is your opposite. Find that treasure for me, James, or I won't be happy.”

James took the long pole with the scoop on the end of it and eased it down into the dark, stinking muck. He quickly found the first ballast stone. “The stones are here,” he said. He felt around the first stone, then eased the scoop down to the next stone and the next after that. There were so many of them, piled haphazardly. It was difficult to know if he touched every one of them. He was beginning to despair, for he knew that Compton Fielding was becoming impatient, believing James was somehow trying to fool him. “Just a moment,” he called out. “I believe perhaps I've found something. Yes, it's a chain and it's wrapped around a ballast stone.” Just as they'd all thought it would have to be. He'd prayed the chain would be stout, the links as strong as the devil, given the vicious tides, the storms that blew
over the island and rearranged the landscape in a matter of hours.

“James? You've got it?”

“Yes,” James said, so relieved he wanted to yell. “Come over here on this side, Gypsom. It's time for our two scoops to work together. If we find a metal chest at the end of this chain, it will be heavy. I hope the poles will be strong enough to bring it up.”

The poles went deeper. It was getting close. James was beginning to wonder if that villain Blackbeard had just fastened chains to the ballast stones as a grand jest when his spade hit metal. Blackbeard's treasure trunk. “I've got it!”

It was slow, tedious work. They had to fit their scoops beneath the metal chest and slowly bring it up, and pray the poles were strong enough not to break in half under the weight of the chest and the filthy muck in the marsh. They couldn't take the risk of trying to pull the chain free of the ballast stone. If they lost their grip, the treasure could sink to the bottom of the world. Slowly, slowly, they worked it up. It was heavier than a horse that had once fallen on James during a four-mile heat. He'd been lucky, only three ribs cracked. If he failed at this, he wouldn't be as lucky. He'd be dead. Jessie and his babe would be dead. He didn't doubt that for a minute.

Suddenly, Gypsom slipped. The chest slid off James's scoop and fell down into the muck again. James cursed, then quickly turned. “Don't do anything, Compton. We'll just get it again. Wait, Gypsom, I feel something. Yes, the chain is wrapped at least three times around another of the stones. It's a good thing we've got more length of chain or else we'd never clear the surface of the muck.”

“I know you didn't slip, James. It was Gypsom here. You afraid, boy?” Compton Fielding very carefully aimed the pistol and fired. Gypsom leaped backward as the bullet exploded the slimy ground at his feet and fell flailing into the
marsh. He yelled as the black, filthy water closed over his head.

“Damn you, Compton!” James grabbed the man's arm and jerked him out of the marsh as quickly as possible. “I need him, you bloody fool!”

Gypsom stood there, his shoulders bowed, trembling from head to foot, covered with slime. “There's a hundert snakes in there, Mr. James,” Gypsom was whispering, so afraid that he could scarce speak. “Snakes. I felt one of 'em slithering around my arm. Oh Gawd.”

“That should teach you to be a bit more careful, Gypsom. Get back to work now before I become more impatient with you. Next time I just might force James to leave you in there.”

“If you kill either of us,” James said calmly, so enraged he wanted to close his fingers around Fielding's neck and choke the life out of him, “then who will pull up your bloody treasure?”

“I'll just tie Jessie up and be the second man. I'd just as soon not, but I don't want any more mistakes. Get to it now. I want what's due me.”

All during their labor, he heard Compton speaking quietly to Jessie, terrifying her, telling her that her precious husband best not lose his treasure or he'd have a wife without a head. Yes, he'd blow her head off. It made James frantic. He looked over at Gypsom. He'd never seen such intense concentration on his face in all the years he'd known him. He smelled dreadful, black filth covering him, hardening into a mask as it dried on his face. But he was a fighter. The good Lord knew that before James had bought him and set him free, he'd learned to be a survivor. He wanted nothing to happen to Gypsom.

They couldn't lose the damned chest now. James had the three loops of chain free of the ballast stones. At last.

James said very quietly, “Does the chest have handles, Gypsom? Can you feel any?”

“I don't know, Mr. James. I'm afeared to search out a handle, I jest might drop my end of the chest. I can't do that, Mr. James. He'll send me back into that pit.”

“That's what Blackbeard called it,” Fielding said. “‘Deep in a pit,' that's what he wrote. It is a clue of sorts, but worthless out of this context. Now, James, how close to the surface is the chest?” He pulled Jessie forward as he spoke, bringing her to the very edge of the marsh now. The ground was soggy, the stench of rotted vegetation, of the gases in the marsh itself, were nearly overpowering. She was too scared to gag.

“We managed to unwind three loops of chain twisted around the ballast stone. It should give enough length to bring the chest to the top, but I can't be certain. Be patient. For God's sake, don't let Jessie fall in.”

“No, I shan't lose her, James, don't worry. I'm surprised that you haven't demanded to know everything. I applaud your restraint. As I said before, you think. You know what's important at any given moment. Later, James, if all goes as I wish it to, you will know all you wish.”

The chest broke the surface. There was a huge sucking sound as James and Gypsom managed to drag it over to the edge of the marsh onto the ground. James just stared at it for a long moment. He supposed he really hadn't believed it existed. “Thank God,” he said at last. “We've got it.”

“Excellent,” Fielding said, so excited he could scarcely breathe now. Like James, he just stared for a long moment at that old metal chest, sludge and filth coating it. The lock was still intact. “My treasure. At last, all I've worked for.”

“You didn't work a minute for this,” Jessie said. “You don't deserve this.” James wished he could stuff a sock in her mouth.

“It doesn't matter,” he said quickly. “It's yours, Compton. Nearly yours if we can get it open.”

James managed to grasp a filthy, rusted handle on the side of the chest and pull it along the slick, soggy grass. It was a good-sized chest.

“Oh no,” Compton yelled, waving his gun wildly. “Damnation, just look. There're holes in it. It's metal. How can there be bloody holes in its sides?”

He jerked Jessie to her knees beside him as he fumbled with the locked clasp on the front of the chest. He couldn't manage it. He leaned back and fired into the lock, splintering it, sending its pieces flying into the marsh, making not a sound as they landed and sank.

He was chortling now, shoving back the metal lid. “My God, it's filthy, but there are jewels and so many coins—thank God they didn't fall out of those damned holes. Jewels don't rust or rot. Yes, there are jewels.” He dropped his pistol and plunged his hands and arms into the chest.