CHAPTER XIV
Billy rolled over, vaguely aware of a throbbing in his head that refocused his mind from the dull ache in his leg. He tried to open his eyes, but the fatigue that flooded his body was overwhelming. He drifted back off to sleep, his mind soothing the uneasiness that threatened to bubble to the surface.
She's only been gone a few minutes.
Little did he know that nearly six hours had already passed.
xxx
Meg could hear voices rising and falling around her. She dimly sensed herself being carried up the stairs by a strong male presence. But it was all wrong.
This man did not have Billy's easy, long-legged stride. He moved with measured, precise steps, carrying her as if she were a fragile porcelain doll that must be protected at all costs. She had always felt safe with Billy, but he had somehow been able to make her feel secure and cherished, not imprisoned. The arms that held her now were unyielding.
The next hour felt like a dream. She recognized the soft voice of Naomi, one of the house slaves, urging her into the warm bath. Naomi scrubbed her body pink with a soft sponge, erasing any trace of the salty tang of the sea from her skin. Next, she washed Meg's long, dark hair, massaging her scalp gently while singing a lilting song under her breath. Meg, her brain dulled by fatigue and misery, tried to decipher the meaning of the words. Gradually, she realized they were not English, but some sort of African dialect.
Ten minutes later, she sat at an elegant dressing table, comfortably seated on a high-backed carved chair with a pink silk cushion. Looking into the mirror, she saw a pair of vacant, listless eyes staring back at her. Her skin was pale, devoid of its usual flush of health. Naomi glanced into the mirror for an instant, then averted her eyes. She began to sing again, her voice soft and sweet.
Meg watched as Naomi began to brush her hair with a silver brush, the handle glinting in the morning sun. "That song," she finally murmured. "What does it mean?"
The slave hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "It is a song that the women of my tribe sing when we are troubled. It is a song to remind us how strong we are." She placed a hand on Meg's shoulder. "Miss, no matter what you suffered at the hands of those men, you cannot let it break your spirit." Her voice caught for an instant, and she resumed brushing Meg's hair. "I am sorry," she murmured, her eyes anxiously darting to Meg's. "I speak when I should not presume to do so."
Meg fell silent, her thoughts preoccupied with Flint's instructions. Having finished, Naomi handed her a cup of a sweet smelling liquid.
"Here, miss. Mr. Nelson says you should drink this. It will help you sleep. You need rest." She curtsied, then left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Meg obediently drank from the cup, then slipped under the cool white sheets of the four poster bed. Minutes later, she drifted off to sleep, unaware that she was being watched.
xxxx
The sea was rough, the storm unrelenting. Billy kept Meg secure against his body as he swam towards shore. Flashes of lightning streaked across the heavens, illuminating Meg's face as she lay on her back, staring up at the sky. Her face was white, her eyes full of terror. But she had stopped struggling, and that was a good thing.
"We're almost there!" Billy had to shout to be heard over the wind. "See, there's the shoreline of New Providence straight ahead. Once we get past the outer reef, we'll be safe." Then, from out of nowhere, a huge wave hit them with incredible force. Meg shot out of his grasp, propelled into the dark ocean depths right before his eyes. He took in a lungful of air and dove. The usually clear blue water was murky, silt churning up from the ocean floor to make visibility almost zero. Suddenly he saw her, lying against a large rock that materialized in front of him. He kicked, trying to reach her, but found that he had somehow become entangled in a length of fishing net. He thrashed about, struggling to get free as he saw Meg's beautiful grey eyes dimming, the life draining out of her body...
His head hit the wall, and he sat bolt upright, his heart thudding in his chest. His pulse roared in his ears as his eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for Meg.
"Where is she?" he rasped, the hoarseness of his voice taking him by surprise.
"Somehow I knew that would be the first question you asked." Silver leaned against the small table, eyeing him with curiosity.
Billy swung his legs over the bed, his brain slowly recognizing the mellow, golden light of the setting sun. "Wait a minute. It's sunset? What the fuck is going on here?!" He stood up, and felt his head spin. Something was not right.
Silver cocked his head, giving his crewmate a knowing grin. "It appears as if someone was making rather merry last night."
Billy snatched the pewter flask that lay on the floor next to him, shaking the last drops onto his palm. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a white residue floating amongst the golden drops of whisky.
"You drugged me!" He lunged for Silver, who attempted to sidestep him. However, he had misjudged the length of the boatswain's arms. Billy knocked him off balance, and they both crashed to the floor. In an instant, Billy had his hands around Silver's throat.
The cook gasped, "You are quite mistaken. I can assure you, I-"
"Flint may buy your bullshit, but I don't for a second!" Billy snapped. "One last chance-tell me where she is, or you will regret the day your sorry ass ever stepped aboard this ship!"
"The Captain-he-" Silver struggled to breathe, and Billy loosened his grip slightly. "He told me she pleaded for safe passage back to Nassau, and he granted her request. I don't-know any more. I swear."
Billy released him, and strode to the door. Opening it, he turned and looked back at Silver. "I'll deal with Flint first, then I'll be coming for you." Slamming the door behind him, he set off for the Captain's quarters, brushing past the crew on deck without a word. The men, seeing the look of fury on his face, focused their attention to the task at hand, avoiding eye contact with the boatswain.
Billy shoved the door of Flint's cabin open without ceremony, then kicked it closed. He stood breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his side. "Where is she?"
Flint, sitting at his desk, met his gaze levelly. "Where she should have remained from the beginning-out of harm's way, and with her life as she knew it on New Providence."
"Do not even-"
Gates stepped out of the shadows, and placed a warning hand on Billy's chest.
The Captain stood up, leaning over the desk. "It's all about you, isn't it? You are so blinded by lust that you have not a thought for the welfare of the woman you supposedly care for."
Billy's eyes blazed. "Says the man who held a dagger to her neck just twelve-no wait, I've been drugged by your minion Silver, so I suppose it's been more like twenty four hours ago. Is there something here I'm missing? Since when did you become the champion of the innocent?"
"Easy now, son," murmured Gates.
"I have news for you, Billy," Flint snarled, coming around the desk to face the tall young man. "We don't live in a fucking Utopia. Life is not black and white...it's a hell of a lot of shades of gray. And the sooner you learn that, the better." Reaching inside his black leather coat, he pulled out a folded letter, the simple wax seal still intact.
"Read this. Then see if you still disagree with my decision to honor Meg's wishes."
Dear Billy,
I hope you will forgive me for taking leave of you in such a cowardly manner. Over the past few days, I have come to realize that my presence here only serves to put you in danger. You told me I was not a diversion, but I am afraid that is exactly what I am. I shudder to think of what might have happened had you and I been alone when Lieutenant Chalmers and his men came upon us. I know you would have sacrificed your life for me if necessary, and I cannot-will not-allow you to do that.
The only way I see out of this impossible situation is for me to return to Nassau-to resume my previous life. I will pray for your safety and well being every day of my life, but I beg you-please do not attempt to contact me. Nothing good can come of our meeting again.
With God's blessing and mine,
Meg
Billy reread the letter, more slowly this time. He then tossed it onto Flint's desk, his jaw tensing. He shook his head, his eyes fierce. "This is a lie." He turned to Gates. "You don't believe this, do you?"
"Billy, I saw her write it with my own eyes," the elder man said softly. "No one compelled her to do so. Not me, not the Captain. I know it's hard for you to accept, but perhaps it's better this way."
"Better for who? For him?" Billy gestured at Flint, his voice trembling with anger. "So he can continue to manipulate us?"
"Enough, Billy," said Flint curtly.
"That's exactly how I feel," snarled Billy, his mouth twisting into a savage, triumphant grin. "For you have your own secrets, Captain. And I just so happen to be privy to one that would turn this entire crew again you in an instant." Pulling out a letter, he held it up just long enough for Flint to recognize Miranda's elegant hand, then returned it to his jacket.
The Captain met his gaze coolly. "Are you really so paranoid that you would concoct some sort of outlandish story in order to discredit me?"
Billy stepped closer, lowering his voice to an undertone. "It's not outlandish, and it's not a story. And you damn well know it."
Gates stepped in between the two of them, pushing them apart. "I think it best you both take a moment to cool down, aye?"
The quartermaster's fingers wrapped around the boatswain's forearm with an iron grip, and he steered him towards the door. "Let's take a walk, Billy," he murmured.
"This isn't over!" shouted Billy, glowering at the captain as Gates dragged him out the door.
"Oh, yes it is," Flint murmured, walking back over to his desk and spreading out a map of New Providence. "Because Margaret Davies is going to be the means by which we destroy Tobias Nelson."
The plot thickens-thank you for continuing to follow and review!