Chapter 5
Chapter Five
If the abstract rights of man will bear discussion and explanation, those of women, by a parity of reasoning, will not shrink from the same test: though a different opinion prevails in this country.
— MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT, ENGLISH FEMINIST WRITER, A VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN
Gideon Horn paced the decks of the Satyr in a fury, trying to blot out the sounds of weeping coming from the hold as he ordered his men to remove the grappling hooks that kept the Chastity moored to the Satyr.
Confound those women! Didn’t they know they were lucky to escape the Chastity? He’d been to New South Wales. It was a lawless colony filled with murderers and thieves and no place for a woman, even a convict.
As the Satyr edged away from the Chastity, Barnaby approached him, an ironic smile on his lips. “I’d say that went smoothly.”
“Keep your blasted English humor to yourself. I’m not in the mood for it.”
“The noise the women are making below decks is unsettling the men.”
“They’ve heard women cry before,” Gideon retorted. He had to admit, however, that the wailing coming from the hold was markedly worse than the sound of a woman crying over the loss of her jewels.
He shouted an order to the bosun, then turned back to Barnaby. “Tell the crew to stop up their ears if they have to. We’ve got some hard sailing ahead if we’re to be out of sight before the Chastity returns to Santiago and sends a ship after us.”
Barnaby nodded, but didn’t leave his captain’s side. “The trouble is, these aren’t just any women. They’re prospective wives, and the men don’t like it that they’re so upset. It’s not what they expected.”
“It’s not what I expected either, believe me. It’s that blasted Lady Sara. They were quiet until I threw her in the hold with them. I should’ve known she’d stir them up. She’s a troublemaker if I ever saw one.”
“Aye.” Taking out a cheroot, Barnaby lit it and drew deeply on it. “Perhaps you should have left her behind. All her threats were pointless. Even if she could have convinced her brother to go in search of a few convict women, he couldn’t have found us. Our island is uncharted and—”
“I didn’t want to take the chance. If we’re to do what we plan, we must have peace. We can’t always be looking over our shoulders for some confounded earl.”
“Bringing her along didn’t prevent that. If anything, it’s made the situation worse. Do you think this earl will let his sister simply disappear without looking for her? Not bloody likely.”
Gideon stared back at the quickly receding Chastity.
The fact that Barnaby was right didn’t make the man’s words easier to stomach.
“The woman would be more of a threat back in England inciting her brother. Without her around to goad him, he might not bother. If you had a sister like that, would you want her back?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps.” Barnaby let out a puff of smoke, his expression thoughtful. “Are you sure you didn’t have … um … other reasons for bringing her with us?”
With a scowl, Gideon stalked to the quarterdeck. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Barnaby followed him. “She’s an earl’s sister, and you have been known to do things simply to tweak the noses of the nobility, captain.”
Gideon remained silent as he climbed up to the quarterdeck and took the helm from the bosun. He couldn’t honestly say what his reasons had been for bringing Miss Willis—Lady Sara—aboard. Except that when she’d thrown her brother’s title at him, he’d seen red.
The British nobility always made him see red. Those mincing fops were a bane on the civilized world. If not for people like the Earl of Blackmore and his sister, there’d be less oppression and heartache, less cruel separation of lovers.
He cursed as the old pain hit him anew. No matter how many times he’d made fools of those blasted dukes, marquesses, and viscounts, no matter how often he’d taken their property and scoffed at their warships, it hadn’t driven out the pain or changed the British system that had destroyed his father and had convinced his mother to do the unthinkable.
His mother. He fingered his jeweled belt buckle. It had once been a brooch, but he’d had it made into a buckle as a reminder of his mother’s treachery. Maybe Barnaby was right. Maybe he had brought Lady Sara aboard to torment her for being nobility.
“If you didn’t keep her because of who she is,” Barnaby added as if he’d read Gideon’s thoughts, “then perhaps it was because of what she is. I’m sure you noticed she’s a very pretty young woman.”
“She’s one of them,” he spat. “It outweighs everything else.”
When Barnaby laughed, Gideon tightened his fingers on the wheel.
Yes, he’d noticed Lady Sara’s pleasing figure and winsome face.
He’d seen only a bit of her hair, a lock or two peeping out from beneath that prudish cap, but it had been a rich, dark red.
He wondered what it would look like blowing loose in a fine tail wind or even wet and streaming down her slender back.
Her stubborn back. Confound it all, he couldn’t be thinking of her in those terms, could he?
She was a quick-tongued nuisance, for God’s sake.
Enticing though she might be, she couldn’t tempt him.
He had different requirements for a wife, and she fit none of them.
He wanted a sweet-tempered maid who’d give him peace and comfort during the long nights, not a defiant noblewoman who’d plague him constantly.
“Never mind my reasons for taking her,” he growled at Barnaby. “It’s too late to send her back.” When there was a surge of sound below decks, Gideon scowled. “’Tis a shame, too. Those women won’t stop their caterwauling as long as she’s down there stirring them up.”
“She seems to think if the women make enough noise, you’ll change your mind and return them to the Chastity.”
“Return them to the Chastity, hah! Those women are lucky to be saved from what awaits them in New South Wales, not to mention the journey ahead.”
“Yes, but they don’t know that, do they? And you didn’t tell them much about what we intended.”
Gideon rubbed his stubbled chin. “You’re right. I was in such a hurry to get them aboard without any bloodshed that I didn’t tell them anything except that my men wanted wives.”
He steadied the wheel. Perhaps he ought to set their minds at ease. If he made it clear they weren’t going to be harmed, then they’d be more likely to cooperate. That is, if he could force Lady Sara to stop riling them up. She seemed to have appointed herself their spokeswoman.
Hmm. He smiled. Might as well go directly to the source of the problem. “Barnaby, go bring Lady Sara to my cabin. Then come take the helm. I think it’s time that vexing woman and I had a little discussion.”
Sara stood in the cramped hold, so filled with righteous indignation that she could scarcely contain it. How dared that wretched pirate kidnap them!
“Come now, ladies, you can make more noise than that!” Sara cried above the heads of her charges, who were wailing and carrying on as if their children had been torn from their breasts. “We’ll get them to turn this ship around if we have to scream ourselves hoarse!”
“They might murder us instead!” Queenie shouted above the din.
She’d been the only one to disapprove of Sara’s plan for annoying the pirates, but she’d been outnumbered by the other women, who’d thought it as good a plan as any.
Besides, it had given them something to do instead of lying in the dark waiting to be parceled out to the men like so many provisions.
“If they wanted to murder us, they’d have done so by now!” Sara shouted back. “They said they wanted wives! Let’s show them that we’d make terrible wives, and perhaps they’ll let us go!”
The words were leaving her mouth as the hatch to the hold opened, and one of the pirates came halfway down the narrow stairs. Instantly he grinned, making her wonder if he’d heard her.
She motioned to the women to be quiet as she surveyed their new assailant. His elegant attire made him look remarkably different from his companions. Indeed, in England he might have been considered a dandy with his silk stockings, striped waistcoat, and cravat tied in a Bergami knot.
As the women fell silent, he tipped his head toward Sara. “The captain wants a word with you, Lady Sara, if you’d be so good as to come with me.”
Why, the man was English! Amidst all these barbarian colonials, at least there was one Englishman, one man who might have some moral scruples.
Might. He was still a pirate, after all.
At his words, the women had crowded around her as if to protect her. Though the gesture touched her, it hardly made any difference. They couldn’t even keep themselves safe, much less her.
“It’s all right, ladies.” She forced a reassuring smile to her face. “I shall go speak to the captain if he wishes. Who knows, perhaps he has come to his senses.”
The women’s skeptical looks did nothing to lift her spirits. The last thing she wanted was to enter the private cabin of a self-proclaimed satyr. But she put a brave face on her terror as she set her shoulders and wove her way through the crowd to the stairs.
When she reached the pirate, he stood aside, gesturing to her to ascend the stairs first. It was difficult to keep her skirts close about her as she climbed the steep stairs.
Why she was bothering to be modest, she didn’t know.
The odds were that she wouldn’t be allowed to retain her virtue much longer.
Still, such habits of gentility were too ingrained for her to relinquish them easily.
As soon as they were on deck, the pirate took her arm in a surprisingly gentle grip. But he didn’t bring her at once to the captain’s quarters. He stopped her before she could move away from the forward house.
“I’m Barnaby Kent, the first mate. And I wish to caution you about your behavior in the captain’s presence.”