Chapter 19
Annabelle awoke with a groan. Her shoulder and hip throbbed, and all her joints ached. Sleeping on the ground was not something she hoped to do again. She sat up, holding the blanket close against the morning chill. It was not raining, but the air was thick with mist, and everything felt damp.
Shadbolt sat with his back against the rock where Hawke had been the night before. “Good morning, Belle.” He was cutting a mango into slices with a dagger.
“Good morning.” She raised up her arms, stretching, and groaned again, wincing.
Shadbolt chuckled. “You will feel better once you eat and move your body.” He wiped the dagger on a cloth, then set the mango slices on a large leaf and handed it to her. “Captain wishes to leave soon. It will be a long trek to the other side of the island.”
She thanked him. Then she paused. “Shadbolt, do I snore?”
“No,” he said, and then he stood and returned to his duties of supervising the crew.
I knew it.
It seemed that Annabelle was the last to wake. The other crewmembers were already active. Some eating, and others gathering their gear, ready to break camp.
Annabelle finished her breakfast, and then she finger--combed her curls, shaking them as she did to expel any insects. She tied the scarf around her hair and put on Court’s hat.
Her boots had been turned upside down, which she thought strange, but she had been very tired the night before. Perhaps that was how she’d left them.
Once she felt presentable, she returned the blanket to Murray and joined the crew at the edge of the jungle. Li Chen bid her a good morning as she came to stand beside him.
From this height, the mist looked eerie, spread over the green mountains like a veil. Canyons and ravines cut deep cracks in the rocks, and she wondered how the land could look both beautiful and foreboding.
Hawke stood before the crew. “Visibility is limited inside the jungle; it is easy to become disoriented. Make certain you can see another crewmember at all times.” He looked down at the terrain they would have to cross.
“Move cautiously and quietly. If Blackham has not found the cave, there will be parties throughout the island searching for it.”
“And the jungle has its own dangers,” Shadbolt added.
“What happens if we reach the other side of the island and Blackham isn’t here?” a crewmember asked.
“They are here,” Li Chen said. He pointed across the island. “Or at least someone is.”
Annabelle looked in the direction he indicated. At first she perceived nothing, but then she saw a thin column of dark smoke rising beyond the farthest mountain. It was nearly invisible in the mist.
Hawke stared at the smoke for a moment, and then turned back to the crew. He put a hand on his sword. “Mr. Stanley and Mr. Shadbolt will lead the way.” He nodded to the two men. “Remain vigilant.”
The crew followed behind the quartermaster and his compass, stepping one by one into the trees.
Grieg walked into the jungle, and Annabelle moved to follow, but Hawke caught her arm.
His jaw was tight, and his brows were drawn. “Stay with me, Lady Annabelle. No matter what happens.”
He held her gaze, waiting until she nodded her understanding before releasing.
Annabelle stepped into the jungle, and a pungent smell struck her immediately. A combination of soil, various flowers, damp wood, and decaying plants made the air thick. The aroma reminded her of a gardener’s greenhouse, where the smell of so many different plants overwhelmed the small space.
Within only a few yards, Annabelle understood how a person could become disoriented.
She could see Grieg, but the other crewmembers who had entered before him appeared to have been swallowed by the jungle.
The trilling of insects was loud, and the foliage muffled voices and footsteps.
Only the occasional dapple of sunlight made it through the canopy.
There was no path. And the way was not flat. Vines draped from trees, and the vegetation all around was so dense that at times she had to push it aside with both arms to move through.
“It is rather like swimming,” she said, fighting her way through a particularly tangled growth. She frowned at the scratches on her hands.
“If one were swimming with thorns and insects,” Hawke answered.
He had remained so close behind Annabelle that a few times when she bent a branch to pass, it snapped back and struck him.
“Hold on a moment,” Hawke said. “Am I to understand that you know how to swim, my lady?”
“Not well,” she said. “Court taught me off the coast of Rio when I was small. But I have not had occasion to swim for years.”
“You are full of surprises,” Hawke said.
“And what of you?” she asked. “Do you swim?”
“Like a fish,” he said in his ridiculously arrogant voice. “Though I prefer the waters of the Mediterranean. Much warmer.”
“I should like to visit there someday,” Lady Annabelle said. Though would she ever have the opportunity? Would she ever travel by sea again after this voyage?
Grieg stopped and looked back. “The route looks a bit dodgy up here,” he called.
When Annabelle and Hawke reached him, they saw the way ahead was blocked by a cluster of large, wide roots extending from the tree trunks. Vines hung from the branches above. With the ravine sloping steeply on either side, there was no alternative. They would have to climb through.
Grieg scratched the beard along his jaw. “Belle, do you . . . ?”
“I don’t believe it should pose a problem.
” Annabelle stepped up on to the first root.
She wouldn’t be the one slowing the party down.
And she certainly didn’t need help. She reached ahead, grabbing the next root, grimacing at the spongy feel of the moss.
Leaning forward, she lay her belly down on the root and then swung her legs around, easing herself down on the other side.
She ducked under the next root, crawling over the tangles on the ground.
“Belle, be careful,” Grieg called behind her.
Rustling sounded in the underbrush around her as the little animals of the jungle moved about. Rodents, she supposed. Annabelle didn’t mind knowing they were there. As long as she didn’t actually see them. Or worse, touch them.
She climbed onto the next root, standing and pressing her hand against a tree trunk to keep her balance.
The roots ahead had grown over a large rock.
Annabelle scooted forward along the root until she was near enough to reach the rock with a small jump.
She caught a branch above and held it to steady herself, then leaped.
But instead of landing, her feet slipped.
Annabelle gasped, holding tightly to the high branch. The toes of one foot were on the rock, while the toes of the other remained on the root. She could get no purchase on either; she could move neither forward nor back, and if she let go, she would fall.
Hawke stepped past her, hopping easily up onto the rock. He studied her predicament. “I am in awe, my lady. How did you manage this?” He tipped his head, looking completely dumbfounded.
“Hang on, Belle.” Grieg was coming up behind her.
“Don’t just stand there,” she shouted at the two of them. “Help me!”
“What was that you told me in Tortuga, Lady Annabelle?” Hawke said, giving a lazy smile. “That a woman did not always need a man to rush in and rescue her? Should I assume this to be the case now, or—”
“Hawke! This is not the time to tease.” She glared at him, her shoulders aching.
“I did not wish to assume,” he replied, eyes dancing.
Grieg chuckled.
Annabelle did not see any humor in the situation whatsoever. “I cannot hold on. You must—” She gasped as her hands slipped from the smooth moss.
Hawke caught her. One arm was tight around her waist, and he held onto the overhead branch she’d just released. How had he moved so quickly?
Annabelle grabbed on to his shoulders. His face was only inches from hers, and feeling him so close, being held by him, turned her insides warm and soft. “You would not truly have let me fall just to prove your point, would you?” she asked, her voice surprisingly breathless.
His eyes that had been bright with humor only a moment before were now earnest and intense. “Never. I will never let you come to harm.”
Annabelle drew in a shaky breath, her face going hot. She couldn’t pull her eyes from his. Hearing his words, being held by him, she felt safe. She trusted him.
Hawke’s gaze softened, and his eyes dropped to her lips.
Would he kiss her? A quiver moved through her middle. They were so close; he would only have to move a very little bit.
From behind, Grieg cleared his throat.
Annabelle blinked. She mumbled her thanks as Hawke helped her to stand on the rock.
He held onto her until she was stable, and then he took the lead.
It was much easier to follow him, and Annabelle was glad to simply continue in silence as she examined the questions that fought for space in her mind. Was she in love with Hawke? How could she know for certain? If Grieg hadn’t interrupted, might Hawke have kissed her? Did she want him to?
Annabelle tripped. She grabbed onto a vine, catching herself.
“All right there, Belle?” Grieg asked.
“Just a stumble.”
Hawke looked back, brows raised.
She nodded, signaling all was well.
Hawke vaulted over a thick root, landing lightly on the other side.
Annabelle blushed as she watched him. She followed much more clumsily, coming down awkwardly.
He stood near, one arm out, ready to catch her.
She was tempted to trip again so he would. A part of her longed to relive that moment. In his arms, looking into his eyes, she’d been entirely captured, and for just an instant, nothing else existed. Was that love? Or was she simply overheated?
Behind her, Grieg grunted as he hefted himself over. “Surely it must be time for luncheon,” he said.
“Or at least a respite,” Annabelle said.
Hawke stepped over the last of the roots and paused. “Do you hear that?”
A rushing sound came from ahead.
They continued toward it, and a moment later, the three stepped into a large rocky clearing. A waterfall cascaded from a cliff into a clear pool.
Annabelle squinted in the sunlight. Now that she was out from beneath the canopy of the jungle, the air was fresher, and she took in a deep breath.
The crew who had been ahead were scattered over the rocks. Some were eating, some resting, and some were even splashing water at one another.
“There ye are.” Murray brought their midday meal. “How do ye fare, Belle?”
Annabelle thanked him, assuring him that she was managing quite well. She took her dried beef and hardtack to the edge of the pool, finding a dry rock to sit on.
The sun and the sound of the water was soothing, the cool mist of the waterfall refreshing, and by the time the crew was ready to depart again, Annabelle felt very much restored.
Not entirely certain how near they were to the far side of the island, Hawke determined the best course of action would be to precede upward where they would be better able to perceive their location.
The crew spread out, searching for a route up the cliffside.
Once a suitable path was found, Shadbolt led the way, moving upward along the side of the waterfall. The other crewmembers followed, one after another. In what seemed to be only a few minutes, Shadbolt stood on the top of the cliff.
Grieg started up, and Annabelle tried not to allow her trepidation to show as she readied herself to follow. She balled her hands into fists to stop their trembling.
Hawke put an arm across her shoulder. “It is not as steep as it appears.” He pointed with his chin toward Grieg. “Step where he steps,” he said. “If you become frightened, do not look down. And remember, I will be right behind you.”
Annabelle pulled herself up onto the rocks. Rather than leading straight upward, the route twisted back and forth across the cliff face. It was less of a climb and more of a steep crawl over uneven steps with no railing. Uncomfortable, but not difficult.
Annabelle heeded Hawke’s advice and didn’t look down, although she occasionally caught a glimpse of the height from the side of her eye. She was very aware of him directly behind her, and the thought of the view he was undoubtedly exposed to pushed her onward with haste and no little embarrassment.
At the top of the cliff, Grieg turned and took her arm. Shadbolt took the other, and they pulled her up onto the flat ground.
“Well done, Belle,” Shadbolt said.
She moved aside for Hawke and looked down over the waterfall, drawing in a quick breath. They were much higher than she realized.
Grieg pulled her back and away from the edge. “Best not press your luck today.”
The surface where they stood was a plateau with the cliff behind, a hill rising before them, and a slope downward into the jungle. Rocks and boulders dotted the ground among the tall trees and lush foliage. A stream ran down from the higher hill and over the rocky ground, leading to the waterfall.
“Captain!” Murray spoke in a quiet voice, putting a finger in front of his mouth. “You’re going to want to see this.”
They made their way through the trees, finding the crew crouching among the vegetation. Their position on the hilltop gave a sweeping view of the island. Li Chen handed Hawke the spyglass, pointing.
He looked through, frowning, and then motioned for Annabelle to join him. She knelt beside him, then took out her own spyglass and peered through the lens.
The jungle blocked most of the view, but if she looked precisely at the right angle, she could see people moving along a stretch of white sand.
Annabelle gasped. “It’s them,” she whispered.
Hawke nodded.
Her heartbeat sped up. “Is Court there? Can you see him?”
“I can’t make out any details,” he said. “But if Court is on this island, that is where we will find him.” He turned, motioning for the crew to gather closer. “Mr. Shadbolt, what do you recommend?”
“A scout to assess the terrain and establish the most advantageous approach,” he said. “And, with any luck, to discover if and where Captain Courtney is being held.”
Hawke nodded. “With that information, we can plan a raid.”
“After nightfall,” Shadbolt said.
“A fine plan,” a loud voice said from behind them. “But Captain Blackham won’t abide such a delay.”
The crew bolted to their feet, weapons appearing with a flash of metal, as an unfamiliar man stepped from the jungle. He was enormous, with a long dirty beard, thick eyebrows, and a mouthful of crooked, missing, and gold teeth. The man laughed heartily.
Hawke pressed Annabelle behind him.
Around them, the jungle moved, and a band of men emerged, brandishing swords, knives, axes, and even clubs. Hawke’s crew were entirely surrounded and supremely outnumbered.
At the sight of the weapons, Annabelle’s chest squeezed so tightly that her head swam. She grasped Hawke’s coat and strained to breathe. She couldn’t get enough air.
“Smartly there.” The large man pointed his sword toward them, grinning. “We’ve been expecting ye.”