My Seaswept Heart Page 4

  There was a dock, made of wood and sturdy, stretching out into the water perhaps a hundred rods. Beyond that were several warehouses smaller, but equal in structure to any he’d seen near the wharf on New Providence.

  Beyond these buildings were more, a small village of them, all nearly the same in size and shape.

  “That’s the town,” Anne said as she watched him squint into the sun, his hand thrown up to shade his eyes. “It was larger but your friend d’Porteau burned more than half the homes.”

  His gaze jerked about to meet hers. “He’s not a friend.”

  “Well, he might as well be.” Crossing her arms Anne twisted back to look toward the fast-approaching island, her chin set at a defiant angle.

  “Now, girl, we decided to let your uncle do the persuading since you couldn’t.” Israel’s remark had both Anne and the captain staring at him.

  “There will be no persuading,” Jamie assured him. “I’ll be setting sail back to New Providence before the sun climbs much higher and if you’re very lucky I won’t be hanging the both of ye up by your toes.” Jamie folded his arms in a parody of his female captor’s stance and set his jaw. Neither of them, not Israel, nor Mistress Anne Cornwall knew who they were dealing with.

  By the time the small sloop was tied to the dock a group of several men were rushing toward the beach. Anne recognized her uncle, following close on the heels of Mort Tatum, who must have been the island’s lookout for the morning. And Matthew Baxter. Matthew and Mort were carrying two of the few muskets they’d been able to hide from d’Porteau. Climbing out of the boat Anne hurried to meet them.

  “My goodness, child!” Richard Cornwall grabbed his niece’s shoulders. “Are you all right?” His eyes searched hers. “We didn’t know what had become of you.”

  “Yes, Uncle. I’m fine. Truly I am. I didn’t mean to cause you any alarm.”

  Richard’s hand touched the top of her head. “But you see you have worried me. You should have known that a reasonable uncle would.”

  “’Twas mostly me doin’, Your Lordship.” Israel stepped forward and Jamie took the opportunity to latch onto the pistol... his pistol, swinging casually from the old pirate’s hand. To Jamie’s amazement, Israel just let it go without a struggle. “I talked her into goin’ over to New Providence and lookin’ up some p—some fellow seaman I knowed.”

  Richard’s eyes moved from scanning Anne’s face to rest briefly on Israel, then opened wide as they settled on Jamie. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Anne had regained his attention.

  “It’s not true what Israel says. I take full responsibility for what occurred. You see—”

  “Perhaps it would be an excellent idea if you explained, then.” Richard spoke to Anne but he watched the tall, broad-shouldered stranger, as did the other members of the council. They’d been in the middle of a planning meeting when Mort ran in yelling about a sloop entering Libertia’s natural harbor.

  “Well...” Anne straightened her shoulders. “I thought... that is—”

  “A wee bit of privacy might make this easier.” Jamie stepped forward, not surprised when several of the men behind Anne’s uncle cringed back. He seemed to have that effect on people and truthfully he usually considered it helpful. As he did now.

  Anne’s uncle seemed to spring to life, dragging his fingers back through his thinning hair. “Of course, of course,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come right this way!” Taking his niece’s arm he led the way up the beach, apparently expecting the others to fall in behind.

  Israel motioned for Jamie to proceed, and he quickly returned the favor, not wishing the wily old bastard access to his back. The others who followed, forming a tiny procession didn’t concern him much, even if one of them made a point of rubbing his hand over the stock of a dilapidated musket.

  When they reached the front of a small but neat cottage, Richard Cornwall paused, ushering Anne, and the two seafarers inside and motioning for the others to return to their chores.

  “I don’t think you should be in there without me,” Mort Tatum announced, spreading his legs. “I never did trust that Israel fellow, and his friend doesn’t seem any better.”

  “Now, Mort, I’m sure he’s perfectly respectable.”

  “Did you see the size of him? And his garb? Forswear, Richard, the man has all the markings of a pirate.”

  From inside the small parlor the three occupants could hear all that was said outside perfectly well. Anne slanted a look toward Captain MacQuaid, surprised to see him grin at Mort’s words. Her own lips thinned and she hustled the others toward chairs, turning in time to meet her uncle when he stepped into the front room. He shut the door behind him, holding up his hand when Anne tried to begin her explanation.

  “I think since we waited this long a few more minutes will not hurt.” He crossed to the table, lifting a bottle of deep red liquid. “Gentlemen, would you care for some refreshment? Our guest might be surprised to learn that we made the wine ourselves from grapes grown right here on Libertia.” He handed a glass to Jamie, who took it with a small bow.

  “Uncle Richard, this is Captain James MacQuaid,” Anne stepped forward. If everyone intended to be polite—and the pirate did seem to be making an effort despite his insistence on the sloop to the contrary—she might as well introduce them. “And this is my uncle, the founder and inspiration behind Libertia, Richard Cornwall.”

  “Now, Anne, as usual you give me too much credit. Everyone is equally important on our island.” He handed wine to Israel. “It is the creed by which we live.”

  Anne said nothing but watched the pirate captain as did everyone else in the room as he tasted the wine. She wondered if he thought at all of the wine she’d given him in New Providence. Fortunately, he seemed not to recollect that as he sipped the fragrant liquid. With a nod he acknowledged the flavor and Richard let out a breath.

  “We’re proud of our little wine, sir.”

  “As you should be.” Jamie took another drink, then set the glass on the small table beside his chair. Though the furnishings in the room were few, they were well made and clean. He leaned forward. “I imagine you wonder why I’ve come here.”

  “Actually we receive quite a few visitors who are interested in our colony.” Richard settled into a chair. “Granted, Anne does not often sail out recruiting them, but I suppose there is always a first time.” Leaning back, Richard took a deep breath, steepling his fingers. “What aspect of Libertia interests you, Captain MacQuaid?”

  “Well, I—”

  “No, let me guess. You are a sea captain, I assume?”

  “Aye.” More or less, Jamie added silently.

  “Then unless you plan to settle here...” Richard paused long enough for Jamie to shake his head. “I thought not. You don’t appear the settling type.” Richard’s smile softened his words. “Then I imagine it is trade with the island that has brought you here.”

  “Actually—”

  “We have quite a bit to offer, Captain. Besides this fine wine, we grow sugarcane and are trying our hand at indigo. Granted, we are still small, however I have every hope that our colony will grow as more and more people hear of our grand experiment.”

  “And as long as d’Porteau leaves us in peace,” Anne interjected.

  “Now, Anne, don’t go worrying the good captain here with talk of that one. He is not worth thinking of.”

  “Uncle Richard, he and his men killed several of our citizens, they burned our houses and fields. They took Arthur.”

  Richard slowly shook his head. His forehead creased and the excitement left his eyes. He looked first at Anne, then Jamie. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I do believe my niece is correct.” But he looked strangely like a man agreeing because he thought he should.

  Was Anne Cornwall fantasizing about d’Porteau’s attack? Jamie didn’t think so. She was too passionate about her cause. But then why didn’t her uncle share her feelings. He appeared more excited by his wine, than the fac
t that a pirate had ravished his island. And what was more amazing was that his niece didn’t pursue the subject. She merely guided the conversation back toward the philosophy of the island, a subject her uncle could clearly discuss at length.

  He spoke of John Locke and his Law of Nature, and how the government of Libertia was modeled after the philosopher’s doctrines. “We are a democracy here on Libertia,” he said proudly. “Every man has a vote in what occurs. Whether we plant sugar, or...” His face regained the puzzled expression of moments before. But quickly, almost before anyone noticed the pause, Anne said, “Indigo.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s it, indigo.”

  On and on he went, yet Jamie found he admired the old man despite his zeal and long-windedness. Finally, Anne interrupted with a suggestion that her uncle needed to rest.

  “Yes, yes,” he agreed. “Unfortunately the body grows weaker as age claims it,” he said to Jamie. “But a short rest and I’ll be as good as new. You are staying with us awhile, aren’t you?”

  “Nay.”

  “Yes.”

  Jamie and Anne spoke simultaneously, turning to stare at each other as they did.

  Jamie was the first to look away. “I fear I’ve business elsewhere that must be attended,” he said with a bow toward the older man.

  “Nothing that can’t be postponed till tomorrow, I’m sure,” Anne countered, only to receive the full force of his glare.

  “Uncle Richard.” Anne stood, rushing forward to fall on her knees in front of his chair. If she didn’t do something and do it quickly the captain would leave. She hadn’t missed the pistol stuck in his breeches. There was nothing keeping him from taking the sloop and returning to New Providence. Nothing but his gracious attitude toward her uncle. And Anne wasn’t above using that courtesy against him.

  “We must protect ourselves from d’Porteau. That’s why I brought Captain MacQuaid to the island. He can help us... if he will.”

  “Now just wait a damn minute.” Jamie stopped, shocked by the guilt he felt in speaking his mind in the only way he knew to do it. What was it about Richard Cornwall that made him feel ashamed of his profanity? Lowering his voice, Jamie continued. “I thought I made it clear to you Mistress Cornwall that I am not going to fight your battles for you.”

  “But I thought—”

  “What, that I’d see this island and be struck with an overwhelming desire to throw down my life for it?”

  “Of course not,” Anne insisted, though that was pretty much what she hoped might happen. Oh, not that he’d throw down his life, but that he would want to help. Everyone loved and admired her uncle. Everyone. Even Israel. It was merely one of those facts of life that Anne had learned to accept like the sun rising and the trade winds blowing.

  But Captain MacQuaid wasn’t giving himself a chance to appreciate her uncle’s fine qualities. To understand what he was trying to do here. He was simply standing there glaring down at her, his green eyes blazing.

  “Don’t look at me as if I’ve disappointed ye. It wasn’t my idea to come here, and don’t ye forget it, Annie. If not for the drugged wine I’d be—”

  “It isn’t necessary to tell us where you’d be.” She knew what he’d been doing before the sleeping potion took effect. And so did he.

  “Drugged wine.” Richard’s expression registered bewilderment. “What do you mean by that, Captain MacQuaid?”

  He’d said too much and he wasn’t even drunk. Jamie clamped his mouth shut, wishing he didn’t let his lips move faster than his brain. Sure and he was angry with the wench for drugging his drink and bringing him here, but he could understand desperation. Lord knew he could understand that. Not that he planned to do anything about hers. But he didn’t mean to spill his guts to the old man either. Except now it was too late.

  Jamie shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose you’ll be having to ask your niece that.”

  Anne could feel all eyes shift toward her.

  “Well, Anne, what is the good captain talking about?” Richard asked.

  Good captain indeed! “He’s referring to the means I employed to bring him to Libertia.” She sucked in her breath. “I drugged his wine so he’d fall asleep.”

  “Anne, my goodness. Why ever did you do that? Reason, dear, is the way we deal with reasonable men.”

  “Yes, well, Captain MacQuaid is not a reasonable man.”

  “Annie.” Richard shook his head slowly. “You shouldn’t—”

  “He’s not, Uncle Richard. He’s a pirate.”

  Chapter Three

  The announcement didn’t seem to faze the old gentleman in the least. To be honest, Jamie wasn’t sure he understood what his niece told him. He had the oddest desire to sit Richard Cornwall down and explain the realities of life to him. But of course he didn’t. Richard Cornwall’s problems were of no more concern to him than his niece’s.

  He bid Richard a good rest, but the older man seemed to have forgotten his desire for a nap. And then though Anne protested, he insisted upon showing his guest around the colony.

  To his chagrin Jamie accepted the invitation. But he planned to make it a short tour, and then he was sailing for New Providence.

  “Remember, Cap’n, I’ve got me eye on ye.” Israel sidled up beside him, patting a pistol he’d thrust into the waistband of his pants. Indicating it was more than his eye he’d aim Jamie’s way if he didn’t watch himself.

  Jamie only scowled, deciding not to point out that he had his own gun, then forced his attention back to Anne Cornwall. What did Israel think, that he planned to grab the girl and her uncle and hurl them into the sea? He might be a pirate but he wasn’t an uncivilized scoundrel. Well, perhaps he was a scoundrel, but he prided himself on not harming innocent people. And Richard Cornwall seemed a complete innocent. But his niece sure the hell wasn’t. Mayhap he would toss her to the sharks if given the opportunity.

  Jamie caught Anne’s eye as she explained the workings of the sugar mill. She ignored his glare as she led the way inside a stifling hot building where the thump thump of the water powered roller near drowned out her voice. But Jamie wasn’t interested in how the wheels squeezed the dark brown liquid from the ratoon cane. And he didn’t think Anne really cared about telling him.

  “Everyone who is able takes their turn in the sugar works,” she said as they stepped outside into the blinding sunlight. “It’s part of the philosophy of—”

  “Even you?” Jamie arched his brow in mock disbelief. He had noticed that unlike the sugar plantations in Jamaica and the other islands he visited, this one lacked slave labor. At least the slaves who came from Africa. Bur he assumed the workers were indentured.

  “Oh, yes, yes, Annie takes her turn with the sugarcane. She’s quite adept at judging when the syrup is tempered. Though I feel her greatest gift lies in managing the plantation.”

  “I imagine that would be her forte.”

  Ignoring the jibe and smug expression on the pirate’s face, Anne led the way toward the edge of a clearing. She paused before a mass of charred boards. “This,” she said with a flourish of her hand, “is the warehouse where we store the sugar cones. At least it’s what is left of it after d’Porteau’s visit.”

  Jamie said nothing, just stared at the destruction... senseless destruction.

  “Nasty man that Frenchman,” Richard said with a shake of his head. And then as if he suddenly remembered something pleasant the older man’s countenance brightened. “Have you been a student of John Locke for long, Captain MacQuaid? I find his view on the government fascinating, don’t you?” Richard took Jamie’s arm and lead him back toward the village.

  The helpless expression the pirate threw over his shoulder toward her would have been amusing if the circumstances were different. She was in no mood to come to his aid, though as her uncle rambled on about the merits of Locke’s theories, it was obvious Jamie MacQuaid had no earthly idea how to respond.

  “I think perhaps the captain would enjoy a tour of the fields
,” Anne said as she moved between the two men.

  “Oh, of course, whatever was I thinking? Certainly you wish to explore all of Libertia before deciding to bring your shipload of settlers here.”

  “Settlers...?” Jamie’s eyes cut toward Anne.

  “There is always room on our island for those who wish to join our grand experiment.” Richard’s smile was indulgent. “Go see for yourself the paradise of Libertia, then please join me for tea.” He clasped Jamie’s shoulder. “I shall endeavor to find Arthur. You would get on with my son very well.”

  “Let me find him, Uncle Richard.” Anne stepped forward, clasping the two frail hands in hers. “I think you should rest a bit. You remember what Doctor Phillips said.”

  “Ah yes. The bane of aging. Resting when there is so much to be done.” Despite his words the older man, leaning heavily on his cane, started off toward the row of cabins.

  “I’z still behind ye, Cap’n, so don’t go gettin’ any ideas.”

  Glancing behind him Jamie saw that Israel’s fingers were wrapped around the gun butt. “Do ye think I couldn’t overpower you before that gun cleared your breeches if I had a mind to?”

  “Well, now, you can try it, Cap’n, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Israel, we haven’t time to wrangle. I wish to show the captain the havoc his fellow pirate wreaked on the sugar fields.” Without a backward glance Anne set out on the path that led toward the jungle. It wasn’t until she heard Israel’s voice that she realized the pirate failed to follow. “What is it?”

  Jamie stood arms folded over his bare chest, chin set defiantly. “I have no intention of seeing fields of any kind. Nor do I plan to prolong this charade. If you don’t wish to see this friend of yours broken like a twig, you will find a way for me to return to New Providence, now.”