Captured

  An hour later, all the men of the island, along with many of its women and children, too, were gathered by the Marie. In the moonlight the torches flickering in hands and others planted in the sand added just enough illumination for them all to see.

  Dominic looked out at the concerned faces of those assembled and was reminded of how they’d all come to be on the island in the first place. “Four years ago, the men of the Marie and I, aided by Esteban and his crew, laid siege to Martinique because my brother, Eduard, decided to take charge of people he did not own. He has struck again.”

  “Oh no,” he heard a woman cry.

  “This time he and our old enemy Vanweldt have taken my Clare.”

  Everyone listening looked stunned.

  “And I want her back!”

  Shouts of revenge filled the air. He waited for that to fade, then told them the story of the abduction. “It is imperative that we get the Marie refitted as quickly as possible so we can bring Clare home. Are you with me!”

  The roar of assent shook the beach. Although many of the men were former slaves, more of them were pirates. They were battle-tested and would follow their captain to the gates of hell should he ask, and they were ready.

  At sunrise they began in earnest. The crew moved over the ship like ants, repairing rigging, outfitting the masts, and using the animals to aid in hauling everything on board from guns and cannons to food and shot. Muskets were cleaned, pistols, too. Down the beach a ways, Richmond was overseeing the making of grenades. He showed his helpers, who included Ben, Sarah, and Dot, just how much gunpowder to place inside the small hollowed-out iron balls, while some of the women cut cotton rags into strips to make the fuses.

  When the Marie was docked after the last voyage, it had taken a day and a half to unload the forty old and inoperable cannons that rode beneath her hold as ship’s ballast. Now they had to be put back again. Ballast gave her balance and weight, and even though the journey to Martinique would be less than a day’s span, the ship still needed ballast to sail proud and upright the way she was supposed to.

  As Dominic and Gaspar oversaw the replacement of the ballast, Dominic was getting more and more impatient. He knew he was being hard on everyone with his yelling and finding fault but he couldn’t help it. Every minute they were confined to the dock was another minute Clare spent being held by his brother. He had no idea what Eduard might do to her, but any man who’d planned to enslave three hundred already free people was not someone Dominic wanted Clare to be held by. It had occurred to him that her abduction might be a trap to lure him back to Martinique and it was working, but he hoped Eduard, Sylvie, and Vanweldt were prepared to give their lives to keep Clare with them, because he was ready to give his to set her free.

  Gaspar said, “The crew is going to be too angry to sail anywhere when the time comes if you don’t stop telling everyone how to do their job.”

  “I know. I’m just anxious.”

  “As you should be, but the men know what they’re doing, and doing it as fast as they humanly can.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m worried about Clare, too. Who knew that day you stole her from the frigate that she would steal your heart?”

  “I told you at the time, I thought I was in love.”

  Gaspar laughed. “True. You did.”

  Esteban walked over to where they stood on the deck. He was ready to sail as well, and like everyone else had pitched in with the loading. “I say we cut Eduard into tiny little bleeding pieces and toss him into the sea.”

  “He may be too rank for the sharks,” Dominic said. “But I like the idea.” He’d spent the morning fantasizing myriad ways he could pay Eduard back for his sins; all unsuitable for the eyes or ears of children. “And I’m open to suggestions.”

  They were bantering, but they couldn’t gloss over the seriousness of the situation. In truth, there was no guarantee Clare was still on Martinique. Eduard could have set sail for France or places unknown as soon as Vanweldt made delivery, which was why they were outfitting the Marie as if they were truly going to sea.

  Esteban asked, “Why is Eduard even on Martinique? Didn’t the copy of the will Gabe gave you specifically cut him out?”

  Dominic had told them about the will previously. “Yes, it did. Maybe he doesn’t know. I’ve no idea if the London solicitors have informed him or not. Would be nice if I get to tell him, though, don’t you think?”

  “I think it would be just. Be an awful way to learn that not only are you not your father’s son but someone else’s bastard.”

  Gaspar said sarcastically, “I know I’d want to learn that I’m a bastard from the man I’ve been sneering at as my father’s bastard the bulk of my life.”

  They chuckled.

  Dominic countered. “I want to see Nancine’s face when I tell him. Being turned out penniless couldn’t happen to a more saintly woman.”

  “Aye.”

  Clare was in a bedroom of the main house. It was hot, and the open windows looked out over the water and captives in the field working under the late morning sun. There were hundreds of them spanning all ages and genders. She assumed the three men on horseback were overseers. They were very free with the lash, bringing it down on the backs of those deemed slacking, but the punishments appeared to be indiscriminate, as if they were being whipped simply because the overseers had the authority to do so.

  She turned away from the window and focused on her own fate. Her stomach no longer felt the queasiness brought on by the awful draught Sylvie had forced her to drink, and her head and vision were now totally clear. When Yves left her inside at whatever time it had been, she’d slept, then got up and bathed in the stand-up tub someone had filled and placed in the room. There were clothes, too; a simple blouse, a lightweight skirt, and rough cotton stockings.

  Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a key scratching at the lock on the door. She tensed and waited. When it opened, a young African girl entered bearing a tray. She looked so surprised to see Clare she almost dropped it. Recovering, she set it down on top of the bed, then withdrew silently. The key sounded again, indicating she’d locked Clare in.

  The breakfast fare was bread, fruit, and tea. The bread was moldy, the fruit overripe and bruised, but Clare ate what she could of it and washed it down with the tepid tea. She wondered how close Dominic was to arriving. In spite of Eduard’s claim, Clare knew in her heart that he and his men were on their way. Thinking back on the happenings in Charleston, she knew that as a Christian-raised woman she should feel something in the face of Violet’s untimely demise, but there was nothing. Pity perhaps that Violet had let her life be ruled by her inner personal pain, but nothing more. The woman had sold her on the street as if she were a bag of rice.

  Clare placed her hand on her stomach and wondered if she was really carrying Dominic’s child. If she was, she hoped it hadn’t been affected by the draught or the anxiety. Taking her mind off that so as not to cause herself more distress, she waited to see what would happen next.

  She didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later the door was opened again and this time it was Eduard LeVeq.

  “Good morning, chérie. Did you rest well?”

  “I did.”

  He seemed mildly surprised by her easy manner, but Clare had no intention of letting him see her fear; she refused to give him that satisfaction. She also had no plans to trust him.

  “Would you care for some fresh air, perhaps?”

  “I would, thank you.”

  He gestured her out and she led him from the room.

  The house was large and well furnished. The wealth of unshuttered windows let in the sea breeze. “This is a lovely house.”

  “My father built it. It was the only thing my bastard brother didn’t burn when he raided the place four years ago and stole my slaves.”

  And Clare knew why. This was the home of Antoine and Marie. Dominic had been born here and had grown to an adolescent within its walls. She was certa
in that had he known Eduard would be taking up residence, he probably would have torched it as well.

  “Come, let’s see if Mother is ready.”

  Clare froze inside. This would be the woman that poisoned Dominic’s mother. She drew in a steadying breath and followed him.

  They stepped out onto a sheltered, ground-level verandah. Nancine LeVeq had just finished her morning meal. Clare wondered if her bread had been moldy and her fruit old and bruised.

  “Mother, this is Clare.”

  She was dressed in a dated but fashionable gown. There was fraying around the collar and on the hems of the half sleeves, and the lace insets were yellowed and worn. The face might have been beautiful in her youth but the aging skin was dry and papery, as if the island’s heat had drawn all the moisture from it. However, the dark eyes were sharp and focused. “Why is she in the house?”

  “She’s a guest.”

  “Africans are servants, Eduard. Not guests.”

  She could have easily been the resurrection of Violet.

  “This one is a guest, for now.”

  Nancine evaluated Clare critically. “Why?”

  “She’s Dominic’s mistress. I have need for her.”

  “And you have her in my home? Are you planning to debase yourself the way Antoine did with his African whore?”

  “No, Mother. Are you ready for the morning ride?”

  “Am I riding with that?” she asked, pointing at Clare.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll decline.”

  He bowed. “As you wish.”

  “I wish to go riding,” she countered coolly, “but not with that. You can take me out later, alone.” She gave Clare a look shot through with displeasure and went back inside the house.

  Tight-lipped, he said to Clare, “The carriage is this way.”

  To her surprise Yves was their driver. As she settled into the seat, she said, “I assumed Yves would have left with Vanweldt and Sylvie.”

  “You know Yves?”

  “Not personally, no. I saw him with Vanweldt, the afternoon Dominic sank the Amsterdam.”

  “Yet another sin my brother must pay for. Part of the treasure on that ship was supposed to come to me. As for Yves, he has driven for me before. He and his master have visited numerous times in the past few years. Paul’s new lady is uncomfortable around him, but I’m assuming they all will leave together when the time comes.”

  Another surprise. “He and Sylvie are still here?”

  “I asked him to transport some troublesome slaves to the market in Antigua. They return this evening and sail for Africa in a few days. I need more slaves. They keep dying.”

  Clare turned away so he would not see her satisfaction with that news. Vanweldt hadn’t had the good sense to sail to the other side of the world in advance of Dominic’s wrath; now it would be three birds with one stone. Four, if Dominic chose to count the evil Nancine.

  With Yves driving they toured his holdings. The island didn’t appear to be as mountainous as Liberté, but that could have been because of how developed the land was on Martinique. Everywhere she looked there were Africans in cane fields and overseers on horseback, along with processing buildings and hutlike slave quarters. The LeVeq land was spread across the entire eastern side of the island. She noticed no defenses, however; no cannons, no stone walls that would impede an assault by raiders or storms bringing high seas, but maybe Eduard didn’t feel he needed any, or maybe they were just well hidden. Either way, she doubted it would matter to Dominic.

  At one of the fields they were flagged down by one of the overseers.

  Eduard had Yves stop the carriage.

  The man rode over, and she was surprised to see that he was a mulatto.

  “Yes, Griggs?”

  “Two of the Africans died during the night.”

  Eduard sighed angrily. “That’s six this month and we haven’t even gotten into the heat of summer. Give them more water and ten minutes away from the heat every two hours or so.”

  “All right.”

  “Have you disposed of the bodies?”

  “We have.”

  “Good. I’ll ride out and see you later this afternoon.”

  Clare could see Griggs fighting to keep his attention on Eduard but wanting to get a good look at her. “Very good, sir.”

  The man then slid his gaze over Clare. She smoothly turned her face away.

  Eduard asked, “Is there anything else?”

  “Uh, no sir.”

  “Then get back to work.”

  The overseer rode off, and Yves got the carriage moving again.

  “May I ask where you bury your slaves?” Clare said. “Is there a cemetery?”

  He laughed. “No. We toss the bodies into the sea. The sharks enjoy the meat.”

  Clare’s eyes closed and her heart ached in response to such indignity.

  “The sharks have come to rely on the meat so much, they circle the island regularly. They serve as a deterrent to any slaves foolish enough to try and escape by swimming.”

  So he did have a defense of sorts.

  He looked her way. “I’m taking great joy in knowing my brother is frantic in mind and spirit wondering where you are. I’ll be forever in Vanweldt’s debt for presenting you to me.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I’m going to sell you, of course, and if there is a child, it, too. Dominic will be enraged but there’s nothing he’ll be able to do once I put you on the block. I hate him, you know. He and his whore of a mother stole my father’s affection from Mother and me. My father left us and never returned. That Dominic will never see his child will also make up for that.”

  “The last person with designs on this child died beneath the heavy hooves of a team of horses. What will be your fate, Eduard?”

  He slapped her with the back of his hand so forcefully she cried out involuntarily in pain. “How dare you mock me! You are in no position to be anything but respectful and obedient. Any more sass and I’ll take a whip to you, child or no child.” He grabbed her by the jaw and seethed, “Do you understand me!”

  The mask of the slave remained firmly in place.

  “Do you!”

  “Yes.”

  He tossed her away. “Yves. Drive us back.”

  The giant turned his head around for a moment and looked at Clare just long enough for their gazes to connect, then drove them back the way they’d come.

  Dominic felt as if he might burst into a hundred angry pieces if they didn’t get under way soon. Because of the unrelenting way he’d been driving the men and himself, not only were they going to be too angry to sail, they were going to be too physically exhausted, but they knew why he was so on edge; they were in a hurry to rescue Clare, too, so, so far they hadn’t let his sour mood deter them from their tasks.

  It was two hours past midday. The ballast had been loaded in record time and he felt as if fate was finally smiling on him at last. The gunners were placing the last of the cannons into their slots while Richmond and the powder monkeys, who now included an apprentice named Ben Sullivan, distributed grapeshot, cannonballs, and grenades at each of the stations.

  Gaspar came up out of the hold. “Everything’s secure down below.”

  “Good. Thank you. I believe we’re almost ready.”

  “Yes we are. Do you wish to talk strategy now?”

  He nodded. “Tell everyone to meet me in my cabin as soon as possible.”

  Once everyone was gathered around the large map he’d unrolled on top of his desk, he used his finger to trace the course. “We’ll head east and then northeast past Cuba and Haiti. East again and south past Antigua and Montserrat.”

  “So we’ll come in on the eastern side of the island just like before,” Esteban noted.

  “Yes. The lands are on that side, and my cousin Gabe said the French are using the western side as a connection for ships ferrying guns and supplies to the colonies. Last thing we want is a battle with the French Navy b
efore we can get to Clare. The western ports are always filled with slavers, too, as we all well know.”

  “When are we raising anchor? Day or night?” Gaspar asked.

  “That I don’t know. I’m open for suggestions because were it just me, I’d sail as soon as everything was in place and to hell with the time of day.”

  “Then I vote we do that,” Esteban said.

  Dominic looked to his childhood friend. “Your vote?”

  “Now.”

  “James?”

  “Yesterday.”

  He took in Washington Julian, Tait, and Richmond. They all voted to leave as soon as the Marie was ready.

  A pleased Dominic nodded his thanks. “I’ll go tell the crew.”

  Ninety minutes later to the sounds of battle drums and cheers from the people on shore, the Marie slipped out of the harbor and headed east.

  Clare was confined to her room for the rest of the day but she didn’t mind. Her face was beginning to swell from the blows she’d received first from Vanweldt, and now Eduard, and there was nothing she could do about it or the dull ache that accompanied it. She passed the time by recalling the memories she’d stored up during her days on the island: the feast, the drums, doing errands with Anna, the sunsets, and all the times and the ways she and Dominic had made love. Those memories alone could have sustained her for months or more. The remembered feel of his kiss and his hands; the earth-shattering feel of the little death, and the way he held her when they finally sought sleep evoked a bittersweet smile, because she was not in his arms. Her thoughts then moved to her children. She wondered if they were safe with Dominic, or still with their owners. She hoped it was the former because she had no idea what might be awaiting her should she have to return to Savannah to try and free them again.

  The heat of the day had finally waned and her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since that morning. She supposed not feeding her was Eduard’s way of flaunting his hold over her, but she knew it would only be temporary because Dominic was on his way to take her home.

  An hour later, Eduard entered. “Excuse my neglect. I had business to oversee. Would you care for dinner?”