To Catch a Pirate Page 11

  “’Course he does. ’Twas his idea, after all. Helped me build it, he did.” He leered through the space between the bars. “But I’m thinking he didn’t tell you that.”

  Annalisa stood on the deck, staring out into the blackness of the night. Nothing was visible except the ocean and a star-filled sky. No phantom silhouettes. No ship on the horizon.

  The Phantom Mist and its new captain had disappeared like smoke in a breeze. She could picture Sterling standing at the helm with the wind billowing the sails of his ship, billowing the sleeves of his shirt.

  “I’m a pirate, Anna. I’ll always be a pirate.”

  She hadn’t believed the words when Sterling had spoken them. Hadn’t wanted them to be true.

  She’d thought Crimson Kelly was ruthless. But Sterling was more ruthless, more underhanded, more treacherous. She couldn’t think of enough words to describe her vile dislike of him. He stole from those he knew. Worse, he’d stolen knowing what the cost would be to her.

  “Do you want me to have the men make sail?” Nathaniel said quietly from behind her.

  “Which direction?” she asked listlessly.

  “You know him, Anna. Where would he head?”

  “Where he won’t be found.”

  “If it eases whatever you’re feeling, I think this was his plan all along. You’d commented how easily we’d captured him. And that weasel fellow —”

  “Ferret,” she said softly.

  “He’s gone as well.”

  She nodded, sighed, swiped at an irritating tear. She was trying to hold them back, but they were slowly escaping, rolling down her cheek one by one.

  “Surely Crimson Kelly can help us find them,” Nathaniel said.

  She heard the encouragement in his voice. Was grateful for his optimism.

  “We’ll make plans on the morrow,” she said.

  “Very good. And when we find him, leave him to me. He’ll tell me where the treasure is hidden.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then we’ll take the ship apart. Plank by plank.”

  She slowly shook her head. “The first thing he’ll do is rid himself of the treasure.”

  “Even now, then, he could be on the other side of the island burying it.”

  “He’ll get far away from us as quickly as possible.”

  “Devil take him.”

  “I suspect he shall when the time comes.”

  Nathaniel cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my letter of marque. I’d planned to use it only if we were ever boarded and in danger of being arrested.”

  “I forged one only because I didn’t think you or a crew would follow me without one. I feel as though I’m no better than a pirate, lying to my crew, doing whatever is necessary to gain what I want.”

  “You’re nothing like a pirate.”

  They could debate this matter all night. She wasn’t in the mood. She needed time alone, and she knew the only way to acquire it was to give Nathaniel something of importance to occupy him. “I’ve changed my mind. Go ahead and have the men unfurl the mainsail. I’m ready to put some distance between us and this wretched island.”

  “That’s the daring girl I know, Anna. When we find Sterling, he’ll rue the day he ever crossed paths with us.”

  Leaving her side, he began shouting orders. The men jumped to obey. It wasn’t long before she heard the wind slapping at the sails, felt the breeze rushing past as they headed out into deeper waters.

  She would find James Sterling. No matter how long it took. No matter how much it cost her personally. And this time, she’d show him no mercy.

  He’d done more than steal the treasure. He’d stolen her heart.

  * * *

  The treasure was exactly where James had known it would be. Behind a false wall. A hollowed-out space, hidden behind shelves where Crimson kept his precious books. For all his blustering and crudity, his embracing of the pirate life, he loved reading. Once Crimson told James that he considered his books more valuable than the treasure they hid, but he needed the treasure to purchase the books.

  James had never understood that philosophy.

  Gold, silver, jewels … they offered a man security. They provided everything a man could ever want. If his mother had possessed no more than a handful, she’d have never been forced to give him up. She’d have had the means to feed him, to provide for him. He’d have lived a very different life.

  Would it have been a life he’d have embraced? Would he have known where the stars in the sky fell to earth? Would he have known laughter so lyrical that the memory of it made him smile?

  If he’d never been on the sea, he’d have never met Anna.

  He stood at Crimson’s desk, looking at the ivory chest. It was smaller than he remembered. Two feet wide, perhaps a foot and a half in depth. Easily hidden. Easily found.

  He skimmed his fingers over the top of the chest. Engraved in copper was the royal coat of arms. This chest had been entrusted to the care of Anna’s father. It was the chest she’d searched for. And inside was the treasure she’d sacrificed for.

  While he’d known only a few true ladies in his life, he’d known many women, but not one of them had Anna’s determination, drive, and willingness to do what was needed to achieve her goal. She’d almost succeeded.

  Her failure had come in trusting him.

  He shrugged off the guilt that pricked his conscience. She was the one who’d given her word that she’d grant his freedom. He’d never given his word that he wouldn’t attempt to escape. He was a pirate. She’d simply forgotten that he wasn’t honorable.

  Although he couldn’t deny that he’d done all in his power to make her forget. He’d charmed her, with deliberation, knowing that she would fall for him.

  What he hadn’t expected was to fall for her.

  Devil take her! He didn’t like the way he felt whenever he thought of her. Ashamed, as though he’d done something wrong. He’d done only what any self-respecting pirate would do. He’d sought out the treasure, and he’d taken it.

  He’d done it without any loss of life. She should be grateful for that. It was a kindness. The treasure was simply his reward.

  He loosened the latch on the chest. Crimson had long ago broken the lock and looked inside. Slowly, James lifted the lid and peered at the contents.

  A slow smile spread across his face. He dipped his hands as though slipping them into the water of the cove to capture a starfish. He lifted his hands, his palms filled with gold coins. They slipped through his fingers, clinking as they fell and hit the coins that remained inside.

  He grabbed the bottle of rum waiting for him on the corner of the desk. He brought the half-empty bottle to his lips and gulped some more. It dulled the ache in his chest, an ache he didn’t understand. It was as though someone had pierced it with a sword.

  He dropped into the chair and drank until the bottle was empty. Then he tossed it against the far wall. It hit hard and shattered. That was jolly stupid. Now if he tried to go to bed, he’d cut his feet.

  He’d go out to the deck and look at the stars — but they’d remind him of Anna. He wanted no reminders.

  Leaning forward, he sifted his fingers through the coins again.

  So many coins, so much wealth.

  At long last he had it all: the ship, the treasure, a crew to follow him.

  Twisting the ring on his little finger, he wondered why he felt as though he’d gained nothing.

  The wind filled the sails and the ship sliced through the water. Annalisa felt the excitement thrumming through her veins. She was once again the predator instead of the prey.

  That morning she had ordered the crew to dump overboard any refuse, anything that they could do without. A lighter ship could move more swiftly, and right now speed was of the essence.

  At dawn, she’d stood on the quarterdeck, looking through her spyglass, when she caught sight of a ship on the distant horizon. It had to be the Phantom Mist. She had little doubt tha
t Sterling had sailed through the night.

  He’d know that Annalisa would soon learn of his betrayal. And if he’d learned nothing else about her, he’d have learned that she’d be diligent in her pursuit of him. She wouldn’t let him escape easily.

  And this time, she wouldn’t succumb to his charms. She’d deliver the pirate to New Providence for justice. He’d spend the journey in the hold. Shackled. Locked in a cell. With two guards standing watch at all times. He’d survive on bread and water. If he survived at all.

  Mayhaps she’d even let Nathaniel have the satisfaction of starting Sterling’s day with a taste of the cat. Perhaps she’d wield the lash herself. She was a woman scorned, and she didn’t much care for it.

  Several times since they’d departed she’d looked back at the island, but a fog had come up and all she saw was mist. It was for the best. She didn’t want to remember what she considered paradise.

  “Sterling won’t surrender easily,” Nathaniel said speculatively beside her.

  “It might not even be him,” she said, surprised to discover that the possibility gave her a sense of relief. For all the harsh thoughts she harbored toward him, a part of her didn’t want to exact revenge.

  “The odds are it is.”

  “It could be another ship.”

  “You say that as though you’re hoping it is.”

  She glanced over at Nathaniel. “So many of our crewmen are still recovering from last night’s adventure. I’m not certain they’re up to another confrontation so soon.”

  “It’s personal now, Anna. They’re up to it. Besides, we took them with hardly any skirmishes.”

  She heard the bitterness in his voice. Not that she blamed him. Sterling had duped them all and sprung the last trap.

  “I don’t want him killed,” she said.

  “We may have no choice in the matter.”

  “Nathaniel —”

  “I’ll not risk my life or that of my crew to keep him alive.” He sighed deeply. “Neither will I kill him if it’s not necessary. But he’s fallen for two of our traps now. I don’t know if I can set a third.”

  “Mayhaps we can parley, convince him to return the ivory chest.”

  He scoffed. “If he was going to give it to you, he’d have given it to you before he set sail.”

  She couldn’t deny the truth of his words. Sterling had known the treasure was aboard the ship, and he’d not said a word to her. She suspected he wanted the treasure more than the ship.

  “The ship’s turnin’, Cap’n!” her lookout called from above.

  Annalisa lifted the spyglass to her eye. “It appears to be turning this way.”

  “He must think meeting us head-on will give him a tactical advantage.”

  She peered harder through the spyglass. “It’s not the Phantom Mist. The figurehead is wrong.” She watched as the ship’s colors were raised. Beside her, Nathaniel grunted.

  “Black flag,” he muttered. “Not Crimson’s red. And what is that symbol? A pirate and a … what is it?”

  “Death,” Annalisa said bleakly. Her stomach dropped to her toes as she lowered her spyglass. “It’s Black Bart Roberts.”

  “We can try to outsail him,” Nathaniel said, his voice scratchy as though his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

  She watched the speed with which Royal Fortune moved over the sea. “I think we’d do better to prepare for battle.”

  “It’s said he has captured four hundred ships.”

  “Then let’s do what we can do ensure it’s not four hundred and one.”

  “If we surrender, he might show mercy.”

  “Sterling told me the man is the most fiercesome pirate on the seas. Mercy is not in his character.”

  “Sterling also told you that Crimson Kelly buried his treasure.”

  “He had no reason to lie about this pirate,” she told him. “And we’re wasting precious time talking.”

  “You’re quite right. If we capture him, he will make quite the prize to deliver to Governor Rogers.”

  “Roberts you need not take care not to kill,” she said.

  He nodded, before turning around and shouting, “All hands! Prepare for battle!”

  There was a scurrying about the ship the likes of which she’d never seen. The powder monkeys and several of the crew hurried down to the gun deck. They only had fourteen cannons, but they would have to do. They had swivel guns up top.

  “They won’t want to destroy the ship,” Nathaniel said. “If they fire volleys, it’ll just be to unsettle us. They’ll do all they can to board us. We must be prepared for close combat.”

  He pulled Annalisa near. She could see the concern, worry, and fear in his eyes.

  “You would be safer in the hold,” he said quietly.

  She quickly shook her head. “My place is here with the men.”

  “Anna, it’s different to parry against a man who has no plans to kill you. It’s very different indeed to run a man through.”

  “I will not hide,” she insisted.

  “Then at least do what you can to hide the fact that you’re a woman, or fighting you will be the last thing they consider.”

  She nodded brusquely and darted across the deck. She raced up the steps to the quarterdeck, down the short hallway, and into her cabin. Quickly, she changed into breeches and a loosely flowing shirt. She slid her braid down the back of her shirt. By the time anyone noticed it, maybe the fighting would be over.

  She angled a belt across her chest and slipped in two pistols, ready to be fired. Around her waist, she tightened another belt that held her cutlass in its scabbard, and a knife.

  She took a deep breath and tried to remember everything James had taught her. She could do this. She could fight to the death if she had to.

  She heard a loud bang in the hallway. Dear Lord! Were they here already?

  With her sword drawn, she crossed the cabin and swung open the door, only to find her way barred by stacked crates.

  “Sorry, Anna!” Nathaniel called out. “It’s for your own protection.”

  “Nathaniel, let me out!”

  “When we’re —”

  A loud boom sounded! The ship shook. Annalisa hit the floor. She pounded her fist against the floor. She was trapped.

  Another boom echoed. She heard wood splintering.

  “No, no, no!”

  She scrambled to her feet. She shoved on the crates. They budged not an inch. They were so heavy. Why hadn’t the men tossed them overboard?

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The ship shuddered. She could hear men yelling and screaming. She could hear swords clashing. The pirates were here!

  If she couldn’t move the blasted crates, she could dismantle them. She pried the cutlass between the slats and worked a slat free. Then another. She could see what was in the crate now. Straw and …

  Bottles of rum.

  She cursed the men for holding on to their precious liquor. She dare not toss the bottles out, lest she break them and then have to deal with the glass. But she did begin working quickly to empty the crate, to lighten it.

  When she had its contents scattered on the floor, she began to shove the crate to the side, inch by agonizing inch. When she’d created a wide enough crevice, she hurried to the table, grabbed a chair, and dragged it to the door. She climbed onto the chair, then onto the crate, and wiggled through the narrow opening. She dropped through to the other side and raced toward the door.

  A man barged through. He swung low. She met his cutlass high, crouched, and jabbed her knife into him. Clutching his now bloodstained side, he crumpled to the floor. She darted past and out onto the quarterdeck, into the misty morning. The fog that had been surrounding the island had caught up to them. Madness and mayhem abounded.

  From out of nowhere, another man seemed to appear. She deflected each parry and thrust, forcing him back, until she was able to shove him off the quarterdeck with a push of her foot. He landed hard on the main deck.

  She hurried d
own the steps, avoiding blows, crouching, shifting from side to side, remembering everything Sterling had taught her about fighting aboard a ship. Rounding the corner, she nearly rammed into a tall, slender man dressed as though he should be in a drawing room, not aboard a ship.

  “What have we here?” he asked.

  Annalisa didn’t have time for small talk. With her cutlass, she swung at him. His sword met hers and he laughed.

  “Fiesty wench.”

  So much for Nathaniel’s thought that breeches would disguise her gender — although she realized now his true purpose had been to get her off the deck.

  Backing up, she struck again. The pirate did little more than smile as steel met steel. Then he began to swing hard and fast. Annalisa ducked and parried, but she feared she was no match for the ruthlessness of this man.

  Each time she moved out of his way, he followed, quickly, with faster and faster swings of his cutlass. She knew he was trying to corner her, and she knew she’d be doomed if he succeeded, but there seemed to be nowhere else for her to go except backward.

  Then her hips hit the railing. His sword struck hers with such force that her hand went numb. Her cutlass clattered on the deck.

  “Surrender,” he ordered.

  She angled up her chin. “Never. I’ll never surrender to a pirate.”

  “A pity.” His expression turned hard; all teasing was over. He swung with such force, she knew the blow would be a killer —

  Clash!

  Suddenly, a cutlass was before her eyes, preventing the other from striking her. Nathaniel!

  She shifted her gaze to the side.

  “You seem to be in a spot of bother here,” Sterling said.

  “James.”

  “You’ve never called me that before,” he said with a grunt as he shoved the attacker’s sword away.

  “James Sterling,” the pirate said slowly as though he were savoring fine wine. “I’d heard you were dead.”

  “You heard wrong, Roberts.”

  Annalisa felt her knees grow weak. She’d been fighting the notorious Black Bart Roberts? And lived to tell about it!

  Not yet, she realized as Roberts swung his cutlass at Sterling. The vibrating clang echoed over the ship. Annalisa ducked down, retrieved her sword, and came up swinging.