Revenge of the Fox
Chapter 22
Gwen stayed in her cabin as long as she could stand to, trying to avoid Reynard. Finally hunger drove her out. Rather than dine in the Captain's cabin, she slipped down to the galley and charmed the cook into giving her some bread and hard cheese. Taking these provisions with her, she found a spot near the bow where she could eat in relative privacy. If she knew Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia, they were working on a way to escape from wherever Reynard had left them. Hopefully, they'd already done so. Many people, men especially, underestimated those three. Yes, Anna's courage and skill at sailing and at arms was well known, but men still tended to belittle her efforts. More fool them! Elizabeth was extremely clever. Her quick wit rivaled Jack's, Gwen thought, and her courage was the equal of anyone Gwen had ever met. Antonia was even more of a surprise to most people. She looked like nothing more than a beautifully frivolous lady, unused to dealing with anything more taxing than ordering the carriage to pay a call on a neighbor. There was more to Tonia than that, Gwen knew. Was she up to this situation? Hopefully, Gwen thought, both she and Antonia would live long enough to find out.
--
The Black Pearl dropped anchor in the harbor at Nassau. They were a bit further out than necessary, but Jack wanted to be sure that any ship that left the harbor had to pass them in order to reach the open sea. Scanning the ships lying at anchor closer to the shore he saw a couple that might be the Vixen, but since he'd never seen her with his own eyes, it was difficult to be sure. He'd need to ask questions in town.
--
Ralf huddled in a corner of the seedy tavern. He wasn't sure what to do now. He'd taken the opportunity to leave the Vixen secretly, slipping overboard when no one was looking and swimming to shore. Obviously he hadn't been able to slip ashore completely unnoticed – it had after all been broad daylight in a busy port – but he was hoping that no one on the Vixen realized he was gone. If he was fortunate, he hadn't been missed until the ship was back out to sea. He supposed he should try and find another ship to sign onto. A lot of the ships in harbor were pirate ships, but some of them must be merchants. After all, some merchants must come to buy the pirate booty. He'd check some of them out. He'd had enough of pirates. The coins in his purse would last for a few days anyway.
As he sat there, sipping his ale, a group of men came in and sat at a table not far away from him. He listened idly to their conversation, which appeared to consist of giving one of them grief over a girl he'd tried to bed. The man in question wasn't taking the abuse from his friend very well and was getting surlier and surlier. The story was amusing. Apparently the man, Captain Arnault, they called him, had been found shackled to a bed in a brothel room, gagged with his own sash. Ralf snickered quietly into his ale. Sounds like some woman hadn't appreciated the man's charms!
"I could handle the woman," Arnault snarled in his own defense. "But how was I to know the other one would sneak up behind me and knock me on the head? Who would expect that?"
"Aye," agreed one of Arnault's companions. "Madame Carlotta was livid. Apparently she'd just bought those three girls this morning, and the first thing they do is knock you over the head and take off. Took another girl with them as well – Madame Carlotta found one of her other customers trussed up like a chicken in the next room, and that girl gone as well."
Three girls bought that morning? Ralf listened intently. Could it have been the three girls they'd kidnapped from Port Royal?
"Well, if I ever see Annamaria Simone again, I'll show her what she missed this time," vowed Arnault.
"You may have the opportunity," said one of the men, looking out the grimy window that overlooked the harbor. "For it looks like the Black Pearl just came into port."
Ralf started violently, and tried to cover up the motion by lifting his tankard and taking another drink. The Black Pearl! They were the same women! He was vaguely aware of Arnault hastily vacating the tavern, muttering something about seeing to his ship. The other men were laughing. Ralf thought hard. What should he do? Is this a tale he should bring to Captain Jack Sparrow? What would happen to him if he did? Then he thought of the kindness shown to him by Mrs. Sparrow. How could he not?
--
Annamaria snarled another curse in Spanish. "Do you curse in French too?" asked Antonia acidly. In answer Annamaria spat out another explicative, this time in French. "That's better," said Tonia complacently. "That time I couldn't understand it."
"Jeannine did though," said Elizabeth, glancing over at the slightly shocked face of the other girl. "Maybe you should try Dutch, Anna."
"If you're done commenting on my language," Annamaria snapped, "you could get back under that fishnet. We're going to come closer to that sloop than I was hoping for."
Immediately the other three girls flipped the net over themselves. Elizabeth peered through it and looked ahead at the sloop approaching them. "It's not a danger, is it?"
Anna hastily restuffed her hair under the purloined hat. "Probably not, but it's best not to take chances."
--
Markson and Hale stood side-by-side looking toward New Providence. They'd lost sight of the Pearl about an hour ago. Probably she'd made Nassau by now. Idly Markson watched the progress of a small fishing boat ahead and to the port side of the Sandpiper. It seemed to be crewed by one person, a slim figure wearing a straw hat and a white shirt. Funny about that figure. Why did it look wrong? Curious, Markson got out his telescope and trained it on the approaching boat. He watched for several minutes trying to work out what about the figure didn't look right. Then a gust of wind flattened the figure's shirt against him. Suddenly Markson gasped. It was a woman! He studied her carefully. The shirt was snowy white and appeared to have lace on the front – that was wrong. What woman who made her living fishing would wear a white lacy shirt out on the ocean? The breeches too, were they satin? Satin? On a fishing boat? Ridiculous! Perplexed he continued to stare. Then another gust of wind lifted the woman's hat and flipped it off, causing her long black hair to tumble around her face and shoulders. Markson started violently and nearly dropped the telescope. "That's Annamaria," he shouted. "That's Annamaria on that boat!"
Hale snatched the telescope out of his hands and trained it on the figure who was now trying to replace her hat and hold the tiller at the same time. "By God, you're right." He turned to shout to the helmsman. "Turn to port! Cut off that boat!"
The four women, who'd been watching the progress of the sloop, saw its the sudden change of direction with sinking hearts. "Why do you think it turned?" Elizabeth asked.
Anna gave up trying to stuff her hair under the hat again and just tossed it into the bottom of the boat. "He must have seen me and realized I'm a woman," she said tensely.
"What are we going to do?" Jeannine asked, horrified.
"I don't know yet," said Anna grimly. "Elizabeth, have that pistol ready."
As they watched, the sloop ran up a white flag. Antonia and Elizabeth exchanged incredulous glances. What could that mean? Did the captain of that sloop merely mean to talk to them? Then they saw the man standing at the bow waving. "Is that Lt. Markson?" Antonia gasped.
"Elizabeth looked sharply. "It is!" She scrambled out from under the net and waved back, followed by Antonia and Jeannine. Whooping and waving, the women watched the sloop approach, then heave to. Annamaria went as close as she dared, then dropped the sail. Within minutes, they were alongside the Sandpiper.
A rope ladder clattered down and Richard Markson's blessedly familiar face looked down at them. "Ladies, well met!" he called. "Come aboard, come aboard." Abandoning their stolen boat without a second look, the four women did so.
Elizabeth was the first one up the ladder and she flung her arms around Markson's neck. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" He hugged her back and kissed her cheek. She'd only just pulled away when Antonia repeated the gesture, hugging him soundly. As she stepped away, Markson looked pointedly at Annamaria, who hesitated, then rolled her eyes and hugged him in turn.
Markson sobered abruptly however, when he realized that the fourth woman was not familiar. "Where's Gwen?" He asked it urgently.
"Still aboard the Vixen," Elizabeth answered. "This is Jeannine St. Cyr. She, ah, joined us in Nassau. Jeannine, this is Lieutenant Richard Markson of the Fort Charles garrison in Port Royal."
"At your service, Miss St. Cyr" said Markson, taking Jeannine's hand and bringing it to his lips.
"How do you do, Lieutenant," said Jeannine faintly, pulling her hand away. Although this man appeared to be well known to her companions, she was still uneasy. Was she a captive again?
Captain Hale came up beside the Lieutenant. "Come down to my cabin, ladies. I believe there's much to be discussed."
--
Chapter 22
Gwen stayed in her cabin as long as she could stand to, trying to avoid Reynard. Finally hunger drove her out. Rather than dine in the Captain's cabin, she slipped down to the galley and charmed the cook into giving her some bread and hard cheese. Taking these provisions with her, she found a spot near the bow where she could eat in relative privacy. If she knew Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia, they were working on a way to escape from wherever Reynard had left them. Hopefully, they'd already done so. Many people, men especially, underestimated those three. Yes, Anna's courage and skill at sailing and at arms was well known, but men still tended to belittle her efforts. More fool them! Elizabeth was extremely clever. Her quick wit rivaled Jack's, Gwen thought, and her courage was the equal of anyone Gwen had ever met. Antonia was even more of a surprise to most people. She looked like nothing more than a beautifully frivolous lady, unused to dealing with anything more taxing than ordering the carriage to pay a call on a neighbor. There was more to Tonia than that, Gwen knew. Was she up to this situation? Hopefully, Gwen thought, both she and Antonia would live long enough to find out.
--
The Black Pearl dropped anchor in the harbor at Nassau. They were a bit further out than necessary, but Jack wanted to be sure that any ship that left the harbor had to pass them in order to reach the open sea. Scanning the ships lying at anchor closer to the shore he saw a couple that might be the Vixen, but since he'd never seen her with his own eyes, it was difficult to be sure. He'd need to ask questions in town.
--
Ralf huddled in a corner of the seedy tavern. He wasn't sure what to do now. He'd taken the opportunity to leave the Vixen secretly, slipping overboard when no one was looking and swimming to shore. Obviously he hadn't been able to slip ashore completely unnoticed – it had after all been broad daylight in a busy port – but he was hoping that no one on the Vixen realized he was gone. If he was fortunate, he hadn't been missed until the ship was back out to sea. He supposed he should try and find another ship to sign onto. A lot of the ships in harbor were pirate ships, but some of them must be merchants. After all, some merchants must come to buy the pirate booty. He'd check some of them out. He'd had enough of pirates. The coins in his purse would last for a few days anyway.
As he sat there, sipping his ale, a group of men came in and sat at a table not far away from him. He listened idly to their conversation, which appeared to consist of giving one of them grief over a girl he'd tried to bed. The man in question wasn't taking the abuse from his friend very well and was getting surlier and surlier. The story was amusing. Apparently the man, Captain Arnault, they called him, had been found shackled to a bed in a brothel room, gagged with his own sash. Ralf snickered quietly into his ale. Sounds like some woman hadn't appreciated the man's charms!
"I could handle the woman," Arnault snarled in his own defense. "But how was I to know the other one would sneak up behind me and knock me on the head? Who would expect that?"
"Aye," agreed one of Arnault's companions. "Madame Carlotta was livid. Apparently she'd just bought those three girls this morning, and the first thing they do is knock you over the head and take off. Took another girl with them as well – Madame Carlotta found one of her other customers trussed up like a chicken in the next room, and that girl gone as well."
Three girls bought that morning? Ralf listened intently. Could it have been the three girls they'd kidnapped from Port Royal?
"Well, if I ever see Annamaria Simone again, I'll show her what she missed this time," vowed Arnault.
"You may have the opportunity," said one of the men, looking out the grimy window that overlooked the harbor. "For it looks like the Black Pearl just came into port."
Ralf started violently, and tried to cover up the motion by lifting his tankard and taking another drink. The Black Pearl! They were the same women! He was vaguely aware of Arnault hastily vacating the tavern, muttering something about seeing to his ship. The other men were laughing. Ralf thought hard. What should he do? Is this a tale he should bring to Captain Jack Sparrow? What would happen to him if he did? Then he thought of the kindness shown to him by Mrs. Sparrow. How could he not?
--
Annamaria snarled another curse in Spanish. "Do you curse in French too?" asked Antonia acidly. In answer Annamaria spat out another explicative, this time in French. "That's better," said Tonia complacently. "That time I couldn't understand it."
"Jeannine did though," said Elizabeth, glancing over at the slightly shocked face of the other girl. "Maybe you should try Dutch, Anna."
"If you're done commenting on my language," Annamaria snapped, "you could get back under that fishnet. We're going to come closer to that sloop than I was hoping for."
Immediately the other three girls flipped the net over themselves. Elizabeth peered through it and looked ahead at the sloop approaching them. "It's not a danger, is it?"
Anna hastily restuffed her hair under the purloined hat. "Probably not, but it's best not to take chances."
--
Markson and Hale stood side-by-side looking toward New Providence. They'd lost sight of the Pearl about an hour ago. Probably she'd made Nassau by now. Idly Markson watched the progress of a small fishing boat ahead and to the port side of the Sandpiper. It seemed to be crewed by one person, a slim figure wearing a straw hat and a white shirt. Funny about that figure. Why did it look wrong? Curious, Markson got out his telescope and trained it on the approaching boat. He watched for several minutes trying to work out what about the figure didn't look right. Then a gust of wind flattened the figure's shirt against him. Suddenly Markson gasped. It was a woman! He studied her carefully. The shirt was snowy white and appeared to have lace on the front – that was wrong. What woman who made her living fishing would wear a white lacy shirt out on the ocean? The breeches too, were they satin? Satin? On a fishing boat? Ridiculous! Perplexed he continued to stare. Then another gust of wind lifted the woman's hat and flipped it off, causing her long black hair to tumble around her face and shoulders. Markson started violently and nearly dropped the telescope. "That's Annamaria," he shouted. "That's Annamaria on that boat!"
Hale snatched the telescope out of his hands and trained it on the figure who was now trying to replace her hat and hold the tiller at the same time. "By God, you're right." He turned to shout to the helmsman. "Turn to port! Cut off that boat!"
The four women, who'd been watching the progress of the sloop, saw its the sudden change of direction with sinking hearts. "Why do you think it turned?" Elizabeth asked.
Anna gave up trying to stuff her hair under the hat again and just tossed it into the bottom of the boat. "He must have seen me and realized I'm a woman," she said tensely.
"What are we going to do?" Jeannine asked, horrified.
"I don't know yet," said Anna grimly. "Elizabeth, have that pistol ready."
As they watched, the sloop ran up a white flag. Antonia and Elizabeth exchanged incredulous glances. What could that mean? Did the captain of that sloop merely mean to talk to them? Then they saw the man standing at the bow waving. "Is that Lt. Markson?" Antonia gasped.
"Elizabeth looked sharply. "It is!" She scrambled out from under the net and waved back, followed by Antonia and Jeannine. Whooping and waving, the women watched the sloop approach, then heave to. Annamaria went as close as she dared, then dropped the sail. Within minutes, they were alongside the Sandpiper.
A rope ladder clattered down and Richard Markson's blessedly familiar face looked down at them. "Ladies, well met!" he called. "Come aboard, come aboard." Abandoning their stolen boat without a second look, the four women did so.
Elizabeth was the first one up the ladder and she flung her arms around Markson's neck. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" He hugged her back and kissed her cheek. She'd only just pulled away when Antonia repeated the gesture, hugging him soundly. As she stepped away, Markson looked pointedly at Annamaria, who hesitated, then rolled her eyes and hugged him in turn.
Markson sobered abruptly however, when he realized that the fourth woman was not familiar. "Where's Gwen?" He asked it urgently.
"Still aboard the Vixen," Elizabeth answered. "This is Jeannine St. Cyr. She, ah, joined us in Nassau. Jeannine, this is Lieutenant Richard Markson of the Fort Charles garrison in Port Royal."
"At your service, Miss St. Cyr" said Markson, taking Jeannine's hand and bringing it to his lips.
"How do you do, Lieutenant," said Jeannine faintly, pulling her hand away. Although this man appeared to be well known to her companions, she was still uneasy. Was she a captive again?
Captain Hale came up beside the Lieutenant. "Come down to my cabin, ladies. I believe there's much to be discussed."
--
