There is nothing worse for a pirate than dying on dry land. Except, maybe, swinging two feet above it.
When their captain is imprisoned, facing the gallows, the men and women of the Lady Lesya's crew will try everything to break him out--even if it...
Alexandra wrapped herself in Cap's sheets and stormed out of the cabin. Jade went after the Lady Lesya's second in command, grabbing a gaping Flow by the ear. Before she closed the door behind them, the ship's surgeon turned toward Savy. "Wait here, we'll be back soon."
The door shut for a heartbeat before Jade poked her head back around it. "Don't touch anything!" Then, she vanished for good.
Savy sighed. She had been the ship's "honored guest"-as Etienne had said-for three months, but she still hadn't found her place among the crew. Even Jade still treated her as a stranger. By now, Savy knew better than try to play the feeble, defenseless maid. It had helped her more than once on the Mother of Louisiana, maybe saved her life. But she had spent enough time in the company of the "brotherhood" to have met at least a dozen freebooters of the fair sex-not counting the ones dressed as men who could have fooled her-and on the Lady itself, most of the men were used to getting their orders or treatments from women. Strong, fierce women.
However, an honored guest was neither a First Mate nor a Surgeon. Savy's dress-fresh and unsullied-felt heavy and uncomfortable. She wasn't even a pirate, didn't dress like one. She was out of place. And yet, she had nowhere else to go. Her past life as an abused, upper-class bride had ended with unexpected and brutal relief, and the mere idea of going back to Louisiana to deal with her husband's family made her sick. She started to tremble.
No! She couldn't let herself go. She hugged herself, breathing slowly, trying to calm down. She wasn't feeble! And she was safe. From Robert anyway... Etienne and his crew made sure of that.
Thinking of Etienne, what would he say knowing she was alone and idle in his cabin? On several occasions, he had invited her to share his dinner and talk until late into the night, but she never dared to pry. However, without him-or anyone else-here with her... Taking her time, Savy inspected the place with a respectful curiosity.
The cabin was, as expected, the biggest on the ship. Yet, she still had to inch her way between tightly packed furniture. Except for the messy sheetless alcove-bed, the captain's quarters were kept neat and tidy. Savy couldn't help but smile, remembering the same military order in her father's office.
She let her fingers run on the back of a sturdy but finely crafted chair, tucked under the long ebony table with five others. Rolled out on the waxed, noble wood, a candlestick holding each corner, a map depicted a rugged coastline and the little bay of Puerto Seguro. Spidery handwritten notes, indecipherable to Savy, dotted the vellum.
Above, cramped together on narrow shelves and sorted by size, volumes of Shakespeare stood alongside Cervantes's Don Quixote or Molière's plays. Savy couldn't resist opening Etienne's copy of La Fontaine's fable, worn, bent, and frequently thumbed through. She put the book back where it belonged and stared at the row of the captain's logs for a while, but decide against sticking her nose further.
Dominating the room from under the stern windows, the massive desk displayed only a few objects: a golden sextant and a compass, a quill and an ink pot, a candelabra with three fresh candles, a pipe and a tobacco pouch. All were lined up on the edge of the desk, leaving a vast empty space for the blotter. And, resting on the middle of it, tidily folded, a woman's handkerchief.
Savy held her breath, suddenly hit by Her presence, almost palpable. She was everywhere: the scent in the air, a shawl on the easy chair, a brooch on a shelf, a portrait on the wall. Savy drew closer to the painting, staring up at the woman haunting the cabin. She appeared grave, eyes looking away, frail under her golden locks, but regal in her blue dress. Lesya was... had been beautiful. Savy turned her gaze away, heart aching for Etienne, and went to the window to await Alexandra's return.
She stood there, looking at the buzzing harbor through the dirty stained glass, unable to focus. Her mind raced, filled with recent memories, questions and fears. With Alexandra knocked out, Savy had thought all was over, the seven men's crude laughter clear enough about their intentions. On her throat, the blade, cold as death. On her cheek, the breath of her captor, burning like a furnace. She had closed her eyes and locked her jaw, ready to die if need be, but never to let herself make a sound, nor shed a tear.
A crate fell from the wharf soon to disappear into the dark waters of the harbor. Curses, insults, and blasphemy, not meant for any lady's ears, rang out. But Savy hardly notice. She was remembering the wind blowing up, one of the men screaming like a child, the blade trembling on her skin, the drop of blood running almost delicately along her collarbone. She had opened her eyes only to witness chaos unleashed: one of the men sitting against the wall, crying, trying to gather his spilt bowels; another standing on the tip of his toes, howling, pulled upward by the eyeballs, way out of their sockets; her captor's head twisting, slowly but steadily, his spine making snaps and cracks that would haunt her forever.
Savy caught hold of Etienne's armchair, shivering yet feverish, eyes shut tight. Last night, unable to look away, stomach clenched in a tight knot, she had wished to faint, wished for an oblivion that never came. When someone grabbed her arm, pulling her away, she had screamed at last, torn between the fear of dying and the hope of rescue, only to find no one was there. She had called in vain, dragged down the stairs by an invisible force, unable to stop her feet, leaving Alexandra behind, an unconscious woman lying among dying men.
Pushed and pulled through the streets against her will, tears running down her cheeks without a sound, Savy had only regained control of her own body on the ship, just before dawn. Locked into her cabin, trembling, she had tried to pace, going in circles in the small, cramped space, feeling dizzy at first, wanting to vomit then. She had sat down on the floor, knees up against her chest, face buried in her hands as she fought the terrifying images dancing in her mind. Especially the one involving the eyes of the poor-
No! He was not a poor man! Alexandra was right about that. He and his friends had planned to kill them. Or worse. But to die like that...
Yet, Savy was alive. Alexandra was alive.
All was well that ended well.
Right?
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