Quintspinner (35 page)

Captain Crowell tried not to stare at the disheveled appearance of the strange captives as they emerged from the lower deck. Had it not been for his own order to dress the women in sailor’s clothing, he would not have guessed their sex. Blinking and frowning with uncertainty in the brightening light of the early morning, the three of them stood by Dr. Willoughby, their faces dirty and blood-streaked. Their tunics and breeches had darkened to a deep wet crimson. Blood dripped slowly from the ragged hems of their garments, the droplets landing with loud, rhythmical splats upon the deck.

Three of them! Where is the doctor’s wife? And his child?

“Found these tendin’ to the wounded, on the deck below, Captain,” a pirate announced as he stepped forward from behind them. A stained scarf covered this man’s head and large golden hoops swung from his earlobes. He wore a bandoleer, stretched across his bare chest, its makeshift pockets laden with small satchels of shot and short daggers. His breeches were torn in several places and held loosely around his waist by a strand of fraying rope. A tattoo of indiscernible design splashed across his shoulders and rose up one side of his neck, ending just under his chin.

As Captain Crowell scanned the pirate crew he thought that the man’s garb could have been a standard issue for the crew of the
Bloodhorn.
All of them seemed to be dressed in a bizarre fashion–most wore head scarves or feathered hats, and several had adorned themselves with bright poufs of cloth wrapped around their torsos and hips. All were heavily armed; knives, canisters of musket shot, and pistols were either attached to a chest band or tucked into the waist band of their trousers.

“Well,” Carlos smiled his maniacal grin again, “let’s have a look at them. Take their clothes off, starting with these ones. The sight of so much blood on them disgusts me.” At this, the pirates doubled over with gales of laughter, and whether it was in gleeful anticipation of stripping their prisoners naked, or in true appreciation of their captain’s attempt of a humorous understatement, Captain Crowell was not sure.

Dear God in heaven!
He silently prayed,
Spare the women this humiliation! Please!

“Carlos!”

A voice rang out, cutting through the laughter.

“Hold off!” Carlos held up one hand and peered into their group, trying to place the source of the voice. “Who calls my name?”

“We found one more in this cabin. This one’s high and mighty, too! Real educated like!”

In the cabin? It has to be Elizabeth Willoughby!
Captain Crowell closed his eyes for a moment and thought,
she must have disobeyed the order I gave the family to disguise and conceal themselves, and made her way back to her room. The woman had practically hibernated in the room for the entire voyage and now–

His thoughts were interrupted by Carlos’s voice. The giddy tone in his voice had suddenly been replaced by an impatient snarl.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting! I have a body count to get on with after all!”

Captain Crowell held his breath, awaited Elizabeth’s entrance, and began to pray again for merciful and quick deaths for the survivors, although he knew that it was much more likely that prolonged and horrific torture awaited them all. He shuddered, anticipating the endless ravages about to be endured. Death’s release for them from the hands of the pirates would be welcomed.

“Get the hell out there or our captain’ll skin ya’ alive!” the unseen pirates yelled at their newest prisoner. Emerging from the cabin’s shadows, Edward Graham stepped forward and strode directly towards Carlos Crisanto.

Captain Crowell exhaled softly, finally aware that he had been holding his breath.
Not Mrs. Willoughby! Edward Graham. The man has courage, I’ll grant him that ….

“Carlos, you old swabby sea dog!”

Instant recognition spread over Carlos’s face. “Eduardo!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

“May I be the first to congratulate you on a job well done?” Edward glanced around while greeting the pirate with a welcoming hug and hearty back slap. “Even if it was bit messier than I was led to believe your technique would be!”

The prisoners and pirate crew alike stood gaping at the two men. The depth of Edward’s treachery was beyond comprehension for Tess. She stared at him, a pyre of burning hatred towards him igniting and building inside her, as she listened to their conversation.

“Is she everything you thought she’d be?” Edward was asking.

“That I cannot say, Eduardo, until her cargo proves to be all that you have promised me,” Carlos responded, clapping Edward on the back.

“I trust that you will be more than satisfied. I personally itemized and witnessed the packing as well as the loading of it all in London, and you, my friend, and all of your crew,” he added, looking around at the fierce men surrounding them, “you will all soon be very rich men!” Looking directly at Carlos, he continued, “You
do
have a certain item for me?”

Carlos’s eyebrows knitted together and he shook his head, causing the beads and shells in his braids to clack against one another.

“I do not understand that you would want something so badly that you are willing to exchange all of this for only one thing, but … yes, I do have it.” He reached deep into the side pocket of his trousers and withdrew a small leather pouch, handing it to Edward.

“To you, Eduardo, from Evangelina,” Carlos solemnly offered.

Edward’s eyes gleamed as he fumbled with the knotted drawstring at the mouth of the pouch. When he managed to untie it, he carefully withdrew its contents. It was a small brass box, no bigger than the brass bird that Tess had first retrieved the emerald spinner from. The entire box had been dipped in wax and a seal imprint had been applied to each of its six tiny sides. Clutching the small box to his chest with both hands, Edward sank to his knees.

“Evangelina!” he shouted up to the sky. “For this, I will forever love you!”

Tess watched, stunned beyond belief. Impossibly, in that single gesture, Edward’s disloyal behavior had sunk to an even lower level and his treachery had just risen to a new height.

Her surprise and outrage was no less than that of her father’s, however.

“You bloody scheming bastard! You barbarian!” Dr. Willoughby roared. His face was purpled with fury and he hurled himself towards Edward who was still kneeling on the deck. A half dozen pairs of hands shot out, clutching him, bringing his lunge to a complete stop in midair. As though crazed by this sudden confinement, he continued to scream, “You traitor! Taking sides with the likes of this–this murdering, son of a whore!”

Tess’s disbelief at Edward’s behavior had now shifted to her father’s. She had never heard him utter a single profanity in front of her before. In spite of their present danger, she felt a small spark of joy. She had never seen her father react so passionately to anything.

Her attention returned to the fierce pirate captain and Edward, and she watched as Edward’s eyes narrowed. His voice was cold and deliberate. “Are you addressing
me,
Sir? A fellow gentleman?”

“You are
not
a gentleman!” Dr. Willoughby roared. “You are worse than a common rogue! You are scum! How dare you disgrace the honor of–”

Tess could not believe her ears.
He’s outraged! He’s defending my honor!
My
honor! He’s–”

“– your King and country!” the doctor spat out.

King and country?
Tess was stunned.
Whose honor? Not mine ….
A slow, suffocating sadness filled her chest and Tess felt utterly spent. As she blinked back her gathering tears, she dared to glance at her grandmother’s face. Her grandmother was staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched tightly shut.

Carlos drew his saber and stepped forward, its point piercing the skin on Dr. Willoughby’s chest. The doctor’s eyes bulged in outrage as much as in fear, and a thin trickle of blood spilled down the front of his shirt.

“I will not let your slurs towards
me
go unanswered, Sir,” Carlos growled ominously. “Do you have anything to say which might redeem yourself?”

“Carlos,” Edward interjected and placed a restraining hand on his friend’s arm, “this man is not a man of war, and in fact, saved my life in London–”

Carlos turned to look at Edward but did not lower his blade. “He has spoken vile accusations, and his insults reach beyond my forgiveness, yet you tell me that you owe your life to this man?”

“I do,” Edward conceded.

Carlos slowly returned his gaze to the doctor.

“What am I to do then?” He stared at the doctor and a small smile began to spread across his mouth, his murderous demeanor melting away before their very eyes.

The man is truly demented!
Tess shuddered at the change in the pirate leader.
It’s as though he’s possessed by more than one personality!
She stood rooted to the spot, terrified that the slightest movement would set him off again.

It was obvious to her that she was not alone in her fear. Not one sailor so much as shuffled his feet. They all seemed mesmerized by the drama unfolding before them. Carlos’s eyes began to sparkle with a maniacal gleam again.

“Yes!” he shouted gleefully. “This situation provides me with the opportunity to show you just how much of a gentleman I am!” He sheathed his saber with great flourish.

“I shall spare your life!” he announced cheerfully, his grin fully blossomed.

“You see? Your mouth might have cost you your life, but I am not the–what was it you accused me of being?–oh yes, a murdering, son of a whore, wasn’t it?” The smile dropped from his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and when they opened, they glittered with a dangerous fury. He drew in a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

“Call me what you will, but my mother made her living the only way she could.” Nodding to the burly man holding one of the doctor’s arm, Carlos directed, “He may live but he’ll utter no further insults. Take his tongue!”

Thrown to the deck, his arms and legs pinned down by the pirates, Dr. Willoughby writhed helplessly and a guttural screech exploded from his mouth as they pried it open. Tess’s scream was lost in the melee as the flash of a dagger’s blade appeared over her father’s face. Above it all, a shrieking wail pierced through the roar of adult voices.

“Hold on!” Carlos commanded. His brow was gathered in confusion. “What
is
that offensive squeal?” The intended tongue mutilation came to a temporary halt as all eyes locked onto a disheveled looking pirate who pushed his way through the crowd with his outstretched arms offering a squirming, squalling package.

“It’s a milksop, Sir! Found him in with the chickens. But it’s not a normal lookin’ sucklin’. Have a gander at this!”

Carlos peered into the blankets without touching the bundle. His nose wrinkled up in disgust and his look of confusion was quickly replaced by one of suspicion.

“A suckling? Where is the mother?” he roared. “There is
a woman
on board! Show yourself!” His head swiveled from side to side, his eyes sweeping over those who stood before him. “I swear I will strip and whip each of you until I find her!” With a sudden bellow, he grabbed the baby, holding him upside down by one scrawny leg. Swiftly he slashed the child’s thigh with a small hand dirk, turning the babe’s cry into a shriek of pain. Tess cried out, her own wail going unheard as just then, with a murderous howl, her mother broke through the wall of bodies and launched herself in a ferocious attack on Carlos. She was wearing her dress, having changed back into it once again, and her hair flowed loose and long behind her. Maternal instinct exploded.