In a Pirate's Debt Page 8

  Lucas’ jaw hardened as he looked at her. She was the most spoiled, ungrateful woman he had ever had the bad luck to know. “Travay, tie yourself down on the bunk until the storm’s over. Don’t even think of venturing back out on deck. Do you hear me?” The ship climbed another wave and started down the trough. Lucas grabbed a chair tumbling toward him. He pushed it against the wall and stabilized it behind the heavy chest. He did the same to other loose items knocking about the cabin.

  Travay, holding on to the edge of the bunk, marveled that he never seemed to lose his footing. Then she remembered Sydney. The boy had died in her arms. A wail escaped her lips.

  “Are you all right?” Lucas swung toward her, holding on to anything that wasn’t moving in the rolling ship.

  “Sydney.” Her lips trembled.

  Lucas touched her shoulder. “Thank you for what you did for the boy, Travay.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. She pushed his hand aside and screamed at him. “Go away. What was a young boy like Sydney doing on this pirate ship? I hate this ship. And I hate you!”

  She saw him recoil and wished she could take back her last words. But she couldn’t. Instead, she swiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her gown. “Just get me to my aunt in Charles Town.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the plan.” Lucas ground the words out between his teeth and made his way back to the door. He jerked it open and slammed it behind him.

  CHAPTER 9

  Travay sat on the porch of Merle Allston’s townhouse in Charles Town the morning after her arrival. She wore a light green shawl Mama Penn insisted she wear against the early morning spring air flowing in from the Atlantic. The African woman had chosen to come with Travay to her aunt’s home, and Aunt Merle welcomed the household help.

  The heady scent of narcissus at the edge of the walk filled Travay with well-being. Life seemed filled with promise now that she was safe in Charles Town. But life had taught her, if nothing else, that promises couldn’t always be counted on. What appeared at first a shining opportunity might end in bitter disappointment.

  She drew a calming breath, squared her shoulders, and glanced over the edge of the walled flower garden. Between the palmettos, she glimpsed the ocean beyond and the sky joining with it in a blue haze. Immediately, Lucas invaded her thoughts. Again, she saw him recoil when she’d told him she hated him. Fie! How could she hate the man who filled her dreams? Where was he? Would he stay docked in Charles Town long or head back out to sea and his infamous buccaneering? When the thought of his handsome, chiseled face brought back the memory of a kiss, she shook her head and clenched her eyes shut.

  “Are you having a pain of some sort, Travay?”

  Travay’s eyes popped open. Her aunt stood at the corner of the porch, looking at her with concern. Travay had not noticed Merle walk up from the side of the house after her inspection of the roses just beginning to form buds. She cast about for something to say. “No, no. I’m fine. I was just wondering, thinking that the pink satin will probably be fine for the Drake soiree.” Her aunt had given her several hand-me-down gowns since Travay had nothing except what Lucas had given her on the ship.

  Merle climbed the steps and sat in the wicker chair beside Travay. “I have an idea for a new gown for you, dear, and I’m going to find the money to get it. I think I have just enough in the savings from my little sachet business.”

  Travay had been surprised to find her aunt had a small business she’d developed from her love of gardening. Roses, zinnias, lavender, mint, and other blossoms Travay could not name grew in every square inch of the garden surrounding the house. After harvest, they hung in bunches to dry in the carriage shed, which Merle used as her workshop. An elderly African servant helped with the gardening. His wife embroidered the small sacks for the dried petals and worked as housekeeper. The two lived over the carriage house and always smelled of lavender and mint, which Travay loved. “Oh, Aunt, I don’t want you to have to go to extra expense for me. Truly, I am just so glad to live here with you. That’s enough. We can just add some lace or ruffles to the dress, and it should be fine.”

  “No, your birthday will be soon after, and I had already planned to do something special for you. After all, you’ll be eighteen and the perfect marriageable age. So don’t worry about the cost. I am sure Esther, my seamstress, will treat me right. She’s sewed for me many years.”

  Travay lowered her head. She had not dreamed, when she arrived from Jamaica, that her widowed aunt would have any worries about money. After moving from Charles Town to the islands upon her remarriage, Travay’s mother had little contact with Merle, who had been married to Travay’s uncle on her father’s side. But Travay had kept up a writing relationship with her interesting aunt who was also her only living relative.

  Merle relaxed in her chair. “My husband had the same addiction as many other colonial planters—gambling. He may have lost the plantation, but I am not penniless—not yet, my dear. And a new dress you shall have.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t, Aunt Merle.” Travay sighed. Her aunt always seemed happy and at peace, but had she given Travay the full picture of her financial situation?

  “Had your father lived, or had your widowed mother not married Karston Reed, your coming out this year as a prosperous planter’s daughter would have shown this colony a thing a two. And, I might add, we would have had all the eligible gentlemen at the door, trying to win your hand.” Merle smiled and gave Travay’s arm an energetic pat. “You’re so pretty, you can still have a herd begging for your favor. Why shouldn’t we just go ahead and introduce you with a beautiful gown? The right marriage could secure your future.” Then she added confidently, “And I assure you, Charles Town has not forgotten the Allston name.”

  Her aunt stood. “But enough of this serious talk. We have to get ready for your first Charles Town ball.”

  That night, Travay laid her head on her pillow, finally excited about the coming soiree. They had spent the day looking at fabrics and patterns that now danced through her mind. She heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of carriages on the cobblestone street below her window. She had not heard such sounds from her Jamaica plantation window the past four years. Instead, she’d gone to sleep listening to the humming of crickets and the trade winds rustling the curtains—sleepy sounds she’d grown used to. She yawned and surrendered to slumber.

  She was on Arundel, and Roger Poole stood in front of her, reaching for the horse’s reins. She had to get away! With a terrible sob, she whacked her whip on the filly’s trembling rump. But then she saw the cliff. Arundel’s front legs came up, and her tossing head knocked Travay in the forehead. They leaped out into sheer nothingness. Travay screamed.

  “Travay! Travay, wake up!”

  Her aunt stood over the bed. Mama Penn flew through the door, huffing and puffing as if she’d run up the entire staircase.

  Tears gathered in Travay’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks as she looked at them both. “I am so sorry. I was having a bad dream.”

  Mama Penn leaned over the bed and looked into her face. “I sez you was. Was it that cliff again?”

  Travay nodded.

  “What cliff?” Merle looked at Mama Penn, then Travay.

  “It was just a bad dream. Please, both of you go back and get your rest. I am so sorry I awakened you.” Travay sighed. She had not told her aunt all the details of how she’d left Jamaica. She hated to even think about it, much less talk about it.

  Mama Penn fluffed Travay’s pillow and then lumbered out the door. Finally, her aunt also tiptoed away.

  Lucas sat in his small merchant’s office on the second floor of a building at the end of the Charles Town dock. A wooden block on the edge of his table repeated the sign on the closed door: Sutherland Mercantile Company. One of Lucas’ favorite people sat across the desk, Reverend Ethan Wentworth. Lucas had come to know the Presbyterian minister and his wife, Hannah, on his last trip from London. They had requested passage in such a
desperate way that he found he couldn’t refuse them. Ethan had once sailed the sea himself, as a privateer. On that long sea voyage, Lucas had come to embrace the Wentworths as true friends. Lucas also came to know their God as his Lord and Savior.

  “Lucas, you haven’t told me everything about this last voyage, have you?” The minister’s gray eyes carried no accusation. In his late twenties, Ethan was a few years older than Lucas. With his strong physique, he looked more like the seaman he once was than a minister who spent long hours at his texts. This was what had first caught Lucas’ attention when they met. He also differed from the English clergy Lucas had known in his youth in several other ways. For one, Wentworth believed in a God who had the power to change things, including pirates.

  Lucas leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head and threw his booted foot up on the end of the desk. “How is it you can read me like a book, Ethan?”

  Wentworth chuckled. “Some would call that a gift from God, my man. Suffice it to say that I discern a new light in those remarkable eyes, and I suspect it might have something to do with the opposite sex. Are we talking about the young woman you sent to us, Seema, by any chance?”

  Lucas jerked his boot back to the floor and sat up. “Hell’s bells! No! I can’t believe you even had such a thought. I sent that vixen to you to straighten up if there’s any hope of it.”

  “There’s always hope, as long as there’s life, Lucas.” The minister cocked his chin. “Just like there was hope for you before you saw the light.” Again, Ethan’s eyes held no reproach for Lucas’ outburst of pirate vernacular. “If not Seema, then who? There is a woman somewhere who has sparked your interest. Am I right?”

  Lucas stood and looked out the dirt-smudged window at the harbor below. Numerous ships bobbed alongside each other. Sloops, two-masted and square topsail schooners, ketches, brigantines like his Blue Heron, and a medley of lesser vessels bumped against the long dock. He didn’t speak for several seconds.

  “So you’ve got it that bad?”

  “No, a thousand times no.” Lucas came and sat back down. Would the minister understand if he told him about Travay? Yet, to speak of her would be like opening an old wound, one that reached back to his childhood. Three weeks in Charles Town had hardly dulled the edges of his pain.

  “Why is it I get the idea that the thousandth and one time will be yes?”

  The man was uncanny. Lucas had often thought it since he met him. Ethan seemed to have some kind of supernatural power, maybe from God, to get Lucas to unload his heavy heart.

  “Yes, there was another young woman who took passage on my ship from Jamaica.” He told the story of his rescue of Travay and his coming to recognize her as his old childhood playmate. And her pure hatred of pirates.

  “Well, your pirate days are over, are they not, my friend? Wasn’t this last voyage the adventure to end all such adventures?” Ethan’s piercing look struck Lucas’ heart.

  “I thought so until that Spanish captain told me about my father’s death and that my mother might still be alive.”

  “I am sorry if that is true about your father, Lucas. But he could have been lying about both your parents to get you off his back.”

  Lucas slammed his fist on the desk and then looked an apology toward the minister, who had jumped in his chair. His voice softened. “Yes, I’ve thought of that, Ethan. A lot. But I think he was telling me the truth. I can remember my mother saying that Father had a weak heart. Even as a boy, I knew she worried about him. And as far as the captain taking mother to be a governess, she was a born teacher and wonderful with children. Almost anyone could see that. And she was a real lady, from the nobility herself. In fact, she still has a brother in England I’ve never told you about, Lord Graylyn Cooper. I’ve never met him, but she often talked of him.”

  “I’m sorry I never met your mother, Lucas. And I can see how those qualities might have indeed caused the Spanish to spare her. But what is your plan? How can you possibly hope to find her, much less rescue her?” The minister lowered his voice. “If she still lives.”

  “That’s what I must find out.” Lucas leaned toward Ethan and looked him straight in the eye. “Tell me, wouldn’t you try to do the same if it were your mother?”

  “Yes, yes, I suppose so. I will pray for your wisdom and safety.” Then a very serious look crossed the minister’s face as he stood to leave. “I would hate to see you hanged at low tide as a pirate, Lucas, even if you do have a letter of marque right now. England’s alliances and enemies can change overnight.” He paused and breathed deeply. “And it would break Hannah’s heart and mine. Did you know there’s to be a hanging next week?”

  Lucas flinched and then smiled a brittle smile. “Just keep praying, Ethan. I put a lot of stock in your prayers and Hannah’s. How is she, by the way?”

  The thick atmosphere lightened.

  “She is doing well in this longed-for spring weather and new life bursting out everywhere we look. And having Seema here to help after the baby arrives is really an answer to prayer. Thank you for sending her to us. Hannah has taken her under her wing. I believe one day you’ll see a real change in that young woman.”

  “That’s good news, Ethan. If anyone can effect a real change in Seema, it will be your wife.” Lucas chuckled. Seema would be a handful, even for the kindhearted, hardworking, and wise Hannah.

  Ethan turned at the door. “Actually, I am talking about Seema’s coming to trust the Lord as you have, Lucas. You know man can only be an instrument in God’s hand for that work.” Ethan lingered a moment. “By the way, are you going to the Drakes’ ball? I know you aren’t considered nobility here, but there’s always a shortage of single men, even if they are wage earners like merchants.” He grinned. “If they’re not suspected of being pirates, that is.

  Lucas waved an invitation from his desk. “I guess John Sutherland should make an appearance.”

  Travay stood at the mirror in her bedroom as her aunt and Mama Penn adjusted the satin folds of the lovely new azure gown with its ivory Chantilly lace at the dipped neckline, along the bouffant sleeves, and hem.

  Merle clapped her hands, and a wide smile lit her face. “This color brings out the blue of your eyes, Travay, and the shine in your curls. I knew I was saving the lace for something special.” Then she turned to the black woman. “Mama Penn, would you please bring the box that I laid out this morning on the top of my dresser?”

  “Yes’m.” She left, and her heavy steps echoed down the hall.

  “Aunt Merle, if you’re not going, how can I travel alone to the ball?” Travay’s brows knit as she looked at her aunt in the mirror.

  “Now don’t you worry. Everything is taken care of, even your escort for the ball. Our dear family solicitor, John Hawkins, has agreed to come by for you in his lovely carriage. Said he’d be delighted.”

  Travay turned to stare at her aunt, surprised at this news. She vaguely remembered him coming to their plantation to see her father in earlier years. He seemed old then. “But he’s old enough to be my grandfather, Aunt Merle.”

  “Yes, he is, but he’s known by everyone in Charles Town, and he is the very best one to introduce you. If it hadn’t been for his wisdom and quick action, Travay, I might have ended up on the street when George passed.”

  “I wish you were going, Aunt.”

  Mama Penn returned and handed a small box to Merle.

  “Well, you know I feel pretty young, but all that standing, not to mention dancing, would be a little much.” Merle opened the velvet box. “Here, let me clasp this around that pretty neck.”

  Travay gasped at the glistening pearl and diamond necklace her aunt held up. Surely it was worth a fortune. She bent her head for her aunt to fasten it in place. The pearls glowed against her neck as if they held a life of their own. The interspersed diamonds caught every sparkle of light and winked the colors of the rainbow when she glanced in the mirror.

  “I saved this piece my mother left me, and one day I w
ant you to have it. So why not enjoy it now? Here are the matching earrings.”

  Tears gathered in Travay’s eyes. “Oh, Aunt Merle. You are too good to me.” Travay affixed the tiny pearl earrings.

  Mama Penn stood looking out the window to the street. “Yo gentleman’s carriage is here, chile.”

  “Go and greet Mr. Hawkins, Mama Penn. Take him to the library. Tell him we’ll be there in a cat’s whisker.” Merle bent and patted Travay’s blue ruffled skirt, which surrounded her like a cloud. Soon every ruffle was in place.

  When Travay and Merle entered the library, their visitor looked up and laid down the book he’d been thumbing through. His attention flew from the older woman to Travay behind her. He caught Travay’s eye and smiled.

  Heat spread over Travay’s cheeks at his quick perusal. Her escort was not the solicitor John Hawkins, but a handsome young man in a British military uniform, his blond hair tied neatly back in a queue.

  Merle had stopped in her tracks and stared. “Oh. Are you John’s grandson? I didn’t know he ever married or had a child.” Merle stopped. Pink overspread her face.

  “He never did, and he doesn’t. I’m his nephew—to be exact, his great-nephew.” The man bowed to both Merle and Travay and stepped forward. “Captain James Hawkins, of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, at your service.” Merle lifted her hand to him. He took it and bowed again.

  “Captain Hawkins, you do have John’s coloring. I remember him when he was younger, and you certainly do favor him. May I present my niece, Travay Allston.”

  The captain turned to Travay, and a deep smile lit his tanned face. “How do you do, Miss Allston? I trust you do not regret my uncle’s sending me in his stead?” His cobalt eyes twinkled, set off by his navy blue military dress coat with its gold buttons and white facing.