Passage to St. Kitts
Chapter 14
The pain was agonizing, but Antonia forced her eyes open. She lay on a straw covered floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw iron bars. Memory returned, and with it the realization that she was in the cell opposite Norrington, in the hold of the Aldonza. She recalled being dragged back down to the brig and flung into this cell. Senor Tomas, not satisfied with this punishment, and removed his belt and used it to beat her. She could not remember him stopping, so she must have fainted. Moving as carefully as possible, so as to not jar her back more than necessary, she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned, exhausted, against the bars.
"Antonia?" came a low, anxious voice. Raising her eyes, she saw Norrington standing up against the bars of his cell.
"How long was I unconscious?" she asked.
"A good hour," he replied. "Are you all right?" The past hour was one of the worst he could ever remember having passed. He'd been ushered back into his cell and locked in, unable to do more than watch as Tomas had beaten Antonia into unconsciousness.
"How bad is it?" she asked turning slightly so that he could see her back.
It was bad enough. The fabric of her dress was tattered and bloodstained. Where he could see her skin, it was covered with welts. "You'll hurt for several days, my dear," he said. "There should be no lasting damage or scarring, however. A belt is kinder than a cat-o-nine-tails"
Antonia smiled wearily. "What did they do to you?"
"Nothing yet," he said. "The Captain said he believed me when I told him I'd not dishonored you."
She gave a mirthless little laugh. "Senora Lucia did not, however."
"No," he agreed. "She did not."
"Well," she said, " I don't think I need worry about marrying Rodrigo Valera."
"What will become of you?" he asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "My father will no doubt see this as proof that I am no better than my mother. He will consider himself justified in turning me out of the house, I suppose."
"Do you have friends or relatives you can go to?"
"Not in Portobello. Or in Santo Domingo for that matter. It's possible they will abandon me there on the docks. It depends on whether or not Captain Natalez thinks my father would pay for my return passage."
"Would he?"
"For a disgraced daughter? No. Especially as he knows I am not really his daughter."
"Antonia," he said pacing around his small cell. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I should never have allowed you to.."
"James, it was not your fault. It was mine. Do not blame yourself."
"I can't stand the thought of you being abandoned in a strange town with nowhere to go."
"It may not come to that. It was my foolishness that caused this mess. Senor Valera may very well insist on your being hanged. If anyone should be sorry, it is I."
--
Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the Black Pearl slipped out of harbor and back into the open sea. Getting rid of the twenty-four British soldiers was worth every delay that stopping at St. Thomas caused. He'd had a hard time ridding himself of Gillette, who tried to insist that he come along on the search for the Aldonza, but Jack had managed it. He'd made a half- hearted attempt to leave the Turners on St. Thomas as well, but abandoned the effort when he saw it wouldn't work. Now where in bloody blazes would he look for the Aldonza? The Defender had been traveling south toward Barbados when they'd come across her. The Spaniard had been heading north at the time. Coming from Panama, perhaps? Would she have been heading for Cuba or Hispaniola? If she intended to dock in Havana, Jack knew he couldn't catch her. However if she was headed for Santo Domingo there was a possibility that he could. Checking one of his two compasses (the one that pointed north), he adjusted course to head for Santo Domingo.
--
Annamaria lay on her bunk, resting before her next watch. Her mind, however, refused to cooperate. It whirled and spun in several directions. What was she going to do about Joseph? Should she do anything? All she needed to do was avoid being alone with him until the dropped the Turners back off in Port Royal. Of course, that could take as long as a couple of months, depending on how long it took to find the blasted Spaniard they were searching for. She could explain to him that she had no intention of becoming involved with him, thank you very much. She didn't think he'd press it; he'd been very gentlemanly thus far. She shifted irritably on the bunk. Yes, he'd been very gentlemanly. Too gentlemanly. She wasn't used to it, it was disconcerting. Most of the men she'd encountered since becoming a pirate were crude and direct. Even the ones interested in more than just a quick tumble weren't interested in subtle seduction. They knew what they wanted, and they wanted to get right to it. Turning them down was easy. And if they didn't take 'no' for an answer, a sword point in the throat, or lower, took care of it.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she took out her small mirror and looked into it. Joseph had made her feel.. feminine. When was the last time she'd felt that? When was the last time she'd looked into a mirror and been pleased by the reflection? When she was thirteen? Back before she'd known the cost of being pretty? She'd paid a high cost for her looks, that was certain. As she stared at the reflection of her face a novel thought occurred to her. Could it be, that she'd already paid in full? That there was no more cost to bear? She would have to consider that.
--
"Sails ahead to starboard!" came the call from the watchman. Gibbs was at the helm and trained the telescope at the ship approaching them. "She looks like a Spaniard," he said. "You!" he ordered a seaman. "Go ask the Captain to step up here."
Jack was up on the quarterdeck in moments, peering through the telescope. "She's Spanish all right. Can't tell yet if she's the Aldonza." He turned toward the main deck. "Ready the guns! Even if she's not the Aldonza, we'll take her anyway." He left Gibbs at the helm and descended to the main deck, shouting out orders to the men.
--
Captain Natalez saw the ship with black sails approaching on his port side. Unlike Jack, he knew exactly who he was looking at. Very few ships had black sails and the shape of the one ahead of him proclaimed her name clearly enough. "It's the Black Pearl," he spat. "Turn to port and put up all remaining canvas!" he roared. "Run out the guns!"
Tomas Valera approached tentatively. "A pirate ship? Should we not run?"
"We can't outrun the Pearl," snarled Natalez. "We'll have to fight."
--
The first that Antonia and Norrington knew of the approaching battle was the crash of cannon fire. "Dear lord," breathed Antonia. "We're fighting someone."
Norrington nodded. "That sounded like a single shot that didn't hit anything. Probably a preliminary shot across the bow. It's probably a pirate, or possibly an English, Dutch or French privateer." He looked at Antonia. "Without being able to see it, I have no way of knowing which ship is stronger, but if the pirate is signaling the Aldonza to stop, then the pirate at least believes that he is."
"What will happen to us if the pirate is stronger?" asked Antonia, her face becoming pale.
Norrington didn't answer. The possibilities could be bleak. He himself might be better off captured by pirates or foreign privateers. They would likely ransom him back to Port Royal. It would be embarrassing, and possibly career damaging to have to be ransomed, but he would not likely be harmed. Antonia was another question. Two days in the brig had taken their toll on her; she was as dirty and disheveled as any wench found on the docks of any port city might be. Her tattered dress and the half healed welts on her back would not convince any pirate that she was worth ransoming. Her youth and beauty would probably save her life, but she would undoubtedly be used in the basest of ways. Their best hope would be if the approaching ship were an English privateer. He might have some influence in that case and would be able to protect her. Closing his eyes, James Norrington prayed.
Chapter 14
The pain was agonizing, but Antonia forced her eyes open. She lay on a straw covered floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw iron bars. Memory returned, and with it the realization that she was in the cell opposite Norrington, in the hold of the Aldonza. She recalled being dragged back down to the brig and flung into this cell. Senor Tomas, not satisfied with this punishment, and removed his belt and used it to beat her. She could not remember him stopping, so she must have fainted. Moving as carefully as possible, so as to not jar her back more than necessary, she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned, exhausted, against the bars.
"Antonia?" came a low, anxious voice. Raising her eyes, she saw Norrington standing up against the bars of his cell.
"How long was I unconscious?" she asked.
"A good hour," he replied. "Are you all right?" The past hour was one of the worst he could ever remember having passed. He'd been ushered back into his cell and locked in, unable to do more than watch as Tomas had beaten Antonia into unconsciousness.
"How bad is it?" she asked turning slightly so that he could see her back.
It was bad enough. The fabric of her dress was tattered and bloodstained. Where he could see her skin, it was covered with welts. "You'll hurt for several days, my dear," he said. "There should be no lasting damage or scarring, however. A belt is kinder than a cat-o-nine-tails"
Antonia smiled wearily. "What did they do to you?"
"Nothing yet," he said. "The Captain said he believed me when I told him I'd not dishonored you."
She gave a mirthless little laugh. "Senora Lucia did not, however."
"No," he agreed. "She did not."
"Well," she said, " I don't think I need worry about marrying Rodrigo Valera."
"What will become of you?" he asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "My father will no doubt see this as proof that I am no better than my mother. He will consider himself justified in turning me out of the house, I suppose."
"Do you have friends or relatives you can go to?"
"Not in Portobello. Or in Santo Domingo for that matter. It's possible they will abandon me there on the docks. It depends on whether or not Captain Natalez thinks my father would pay for my return passage."
"Would he?"
"For a disgraced daughter? No. Especially as he knows I am not really his daughter."
"Antonia," he said pacing around his small cell. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I should never have allowed you to.."
"James, it was not your fault. It was mine. Do not blame yourself."
"I can't stand the thought of you being abandoned in a strange town with nowhere to go."
"It may not come to that. It was my foolishness that caused this mess. Senor Valera may very well insist on your being hanged. If anyone should be sorry, it is I."
--
Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the Black Pearl slipped out of harbor and back into the open sea. Getting rid of the twenty-four British soldiers was worth every delay that stopping at St. Thomas caused. He'd had a hard time ridding himself of Gillette, who tried to insist that he come along on the search for the Aldonza, but Jack had managed it. He'd made a half- hearted attempt to leave the Turners on St. Thomas as well, but abandoned the effort when he saw it wouldn't work. Now where in bloody blazes would he look for the Aldonza? The Defender had been traveling south toward Barbados when they'd come across her. The Spaniard had been heading north at the time. Coming from Panama, perhaps? Would she have been heading for Cuba or Hispaniola? If she intended to dock in Havana, Jack knew he couldn't catch her. However if she was headed for Santo Domingo there was a possibility that he could. Checking one of his two compasses (the one that pointed north), he adjusted course to head for Santo Domingo.
--
Annamaria lay on her bunk, resting before her next watch. Her mind, however, refused to cooperate. It whirled and spun in several directions. What was she going to do about Joseph? Should she do anything? All she needed to do was avoid being alone with him until the dropped the Turners back off in Port Royal. Of course, that could take as long as a couple of months, depending on how long it took to find the blasted Spaniard they were searching for. She could explain to him that she had no intention of becoming involved with him, thank you very much. She didn't think he'd press it; he'd been very gentlemanly thus far. She shifted irritably on the bunk. Yes, he'd been very gentlemanly. Too gentlemanly. She wasn't used to it, it was disconcerting. Most of the men she'd encountered since becoming a pirate were crude and direct. Even the ones interested in more than just a quick tumble weren't interested in subtle seduction. They knew what they wanted, and they wanted to get right to it. Turning them down was easy. And if they didn't take 'no' for an answer, a sword point in the throat, or lower, took care of it.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she took out her small mirror and looked into it. Joseph had made her feel.. feminine. When was the last time she'd felt that? When was the last time she'd looked into a mirror and been pleased by the reflection? When she was thirteen? Back before she'd known the cost of being pretty? She'd paid a high cost for her looks, that was certain. As she stared at the reflection of her face a novel thought occurred to her. Could it be, that she'd already paid in full? That there was no more cost to bear? She would have to consider that.
--
"Sails ahead to starboard!" came the call from the watchman. Gibbs was at the helm and trained the telescope at the ship approaching them. "She looks like a Spaniard," he said. "You!" he ordered a seaman. "Go ask the Captain to step up here."
Jack was up on the quarterdeck in moments, peering through the telescope. "She's Spanish all right. Can't tell yet if she's the Aldonza." He turned toward the main deck. "Ready the guns! Even if she's not the Aldonza, we'll take her anyway." He left Gibbs at the helm and descended to the main deck, shouting out orders to the men.
--
Captain Natalez saw the ship with black sails approaching on his port side. Unlike Jack, he knew exactly who he was looking at. Very few ships had black sails and the shape of the one ahead of him proclaimed her name clearly enough. "It's the Black Pearl," he spat. "Turn to port and put up all remaining canvas!" he roared. "Run out the guns!"
Tomas Valera approached tentatively. "A pirate ship? Should we not run?"
"We can't outrun the Pearl," snarled Natalez. "We'll have to fight."
--
The first that Antonia and Norrington knew of the approaching battle was the crash of cannon fire. "Dear lord," breathed Antonia. "We're fighting someone."
Norrington nodded. "That sounded like a single shot that didn't hit anything. Probably a preliminary shot across the bow. It's probably a pirate, or possibly an English, Dutch or French privateer." He looked at Antonia. "Without being able to see it, I have no way of knowing which ship is stronger, but if the pirate is signaling the Aldonza to stop, then the pirate at least believes that he is."
"What will happen to us if the pirate is stronger?" asked Antonia, her face becoming pale.
Norrington didn't answer. The possibilities could be bleak. He himself might be better off captured by pirates or foreign privateers. They would likely ransom him back to Port Royal. It would be embarrassing, and possibly career damaging to have to be ransomed, but he would not likely be harmed. Antonia was another question. Two days in the brig had taken their toll on her; she was as dirty and disheveled as any wench found on the docks of any port city might be. Her tattered dress and the half healed welts on her back would not convince any pirate that she was worth ransoming. Her youth and beauty would probably save her life, but she would undoubtedly be used in the basest of ways. Their best hope would be if the approaching ship were an English privateer. He might have some influence in that case and would be able to protect her. Closing his eyes, James Norrington prayed.