Chapter Nineteen
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CHAPTER 19 |
Jack stood beside Lieutenant
Maynard at the ship’s helm. Having just slipped through Ocracoke Inlet, working
their way through before the tide turned against them, he faced Pamlico Sound
in search of the Adventure!
“Is this where you thought he’d
be, Porter?” Maynard asked.
Jack’s gaze searched the
horizon. “It is his usual lair. But he could be anywhere from up the Neuse
River to Bath Town or any of several places in the sound.”
Maynard shifted his gaze toward
the mainland. “Well, let us hope that he has not gotten wind of us and already
sailed away.”
He nodded, his eyes never
leaving the water as Maynard stepped toward his quarters.
They were close, he knew it,
could sense it, could almost smell the bastard. And he could almost hear Claire’s
voice. He wanted desperately to hear it, for her to tell him she was all right,
where she was. But he couldn’t. Her voice wouldn’t come.
It had been two weeks, an
eternity it seemed, and now that the time was at hand, he grew suddenly
fearful. How would he find her? Would she be alive? Unharmed? Or again drugged
to the death? Would Teach have mutilated her body beyond recognition? Or would
he have simply had his way with her?
Dear Lord, he prayed, searching the sky above him. Let her live. Let her live for me. Don’t
take her away from me again. Not in this way. If she has to leave me, to go
back to her time, let her leave in that way. Let her be safe.
Please don’t have her return to me, this Hannah, this Claire, only to
have her ripped from my grasp again at this pirate’s hands. I know she’s not
really Hannah, but she is my Claire, my Hannah Claire, a gift, and I love her.
I will make her my wife, dear Lord, if you could only see to it that
she is alive and unharmed. I want her to be my wife, Lord. If she will have me.
Please.
He lowered his head and
breathed deeply. He’d not let himself feel the pain, the anguish. Until now, it
was simply the battle of getting to the pirate’s lair, and now that they had
arrived, his heart tripped within his chest, panicking as to the state of
health he would find Hannah Claire in. If indeed he found her at all.
He brought a tightly bound fist
to his eye and rubbed away a tear.
No, I’ll not let myself feel the emotion quite yet. Not until I know
where my Hannah Claire is. Only then will I allow myself to feel.
Snapping his head up, he looked
over the sound.
Dusk fell fast, and their sloop
and the one trailing behind needed to feel their way through the shallow waters
with care. Despite Jack’s skill as a pilot, each craft had to repeatedly be
pulled and poled off the sandbars and shoals by the long boat. Twilight
deepened as they furthered their course into the channel.
Then finally, as Jack glanced
up through the night mist, he saw them. Two vessels sat not far ahead of them
in the shoal waters, peeking out through the mist. One of them, Jack was
certain, was the Adventure!
“It is the bloody bastard’s
ship,” he murmured. Spellbound, he watched the Jolly Roger furl and unfurl on
the dusk’s breeze. He turned to find Maynard. Stepping closer to the captain’s
quarters, he paused once more to glance at the ship.
Maynard’s voice slipped low to
him through the open cabin window. It took a minute for the words to register, and
then like a sharp dagger point, they embedded in his heart.
“We go in at all cost.”
“But the woman …?” another
voice broke in.
There was a pause, and then
Maynard continued. “I want the head of Blackbeard. We go in at all cost.”
It was then Jack Porter knew he
had to take matters into his own hands.
****
“‘Tis only two sloops and
neither carry a cannon!”
Blackbeard’s deep belly laugh
rumbled over the deck and crew. “Did they think they could fight us with their
rapiers? We’ve eight cannon to their none! They may outnumber us in men, but a
couple of broadsides with me cannons and we’ll even the score!”
“Are there preparations to be
made this night?” his first mate asked of him.
“Preparations? To do battle
with two meager, unarmed sloops? Bah! We’ll broadside them once or twice and
slip by them on the morning tide.” He paced several feet back and forth across
the deck. “Bring on the rum and the ale, and we’ll drink to the health of the
King’s men tonight!”
Claire stood near the rear of
the ship listening to Blackbeard boast of his and his crew’s advantages over
the King’s sloops sitting behind them. For half the night, she sat there and
watched, fearful of leaving should they disappear with the confines of
darkness. She knew Jack was with them.
Knew it. Could feel it. Hated
it.
With every beat of her heart,
her convictions grew stronger. At the same time, she was joyous, thinking of
him rescuing her, and terror-stricken at the thought he might be killed in the
process. But she could do nothing about that now. Now she could only wait. Blackbeard
had left her alone, free to walk on the ship’s deck without repercussion the
past day, and Rick, preoccupied with the unraveling events, had disappeared
hours earlier. Not that she cared. She imagined he was using the last few hours
to wheedle information out of the pirate concerning his treasure. Suddenly, she
was a forgotten entity.
But there were other matters at
hand—matters of utmost concern to her. She knew tomorrow would be the last day
Captain Edward Teach would terrorize the Atlantic Coast, and she hoped it would
be the day she would be reunited with Jack.
Alive.
The sounds of the lively party
in Blackbeard’s cabin finally subsided, and Claire, content in her quiet spot
on the rear deck, watched the night’s ensuing activities. Although Blackbeard
had ordered no preparations, several of the crew had taken it upon themselves
to do so. She watched as they soaked blankets to smother fires on board. They
stacked guns, powder, balls and scrap shot against the sides of the ship, heavy
cutlasses near the gunwales. Several times during the night, small boats moved
ashore to gather sand to spread on the deck to soak up the blood that would be
lost come morning, and to help the pirates keep their footing on the
blood-slicked decks.
If she had any sense, she would
swim to shore. But then what? How would she find Jack? The ship was sitting a
ways from the island. Although she could swim, she didn’t trust her swimming
skills that much. She could tread water, and she’d probably be able to keep her
head above water until she reached the shore.
If she reached the shore.
She stood up and peered over
the edge into the dark recesses below. No.
I’ll take my chances above deck. Jack is coming.
That notion had never failed
her.
So she prayed. For the first
time in a very long time, she prayed to a higher power as she searched the
starlit night above her, wondering if Jack was peering into the endless night
as she was. She prayed for a quick battle and a merciful end to this madness. She
prayed for Jack—for him to elude Blackbeard’s cutlass and Rick’s vindictiveness,
and to see her safely off this ship and into his arms.
And she prayed for God to give
her the strength to know what to do once she was off the ship and back in Jack’s arms again. For she
held the sinking notion deep inside her that she would have to make choices
quickly.
“Grant me the wisdom to make the
right decisions,” she whispered to the stars.
****
The ship quieted in the early
morning. Just scant hours before sunrise, Jack slipped over the side of the war
sloop and into a small skiff he’d lowered moments before, pistol shoved in the
waistband of his breeches and a dagger slipped in his boot. He clutched a thin
rapier, borrowed from Maynard’s stash, in his hand. In his heart he carried the
fear of never seeing Hannah Claire alive again.
That fear drove him.
In the night’s pitch he
silently rowed to the pirate ship’s side. Much as he had done months earlier,
he anchored the boat and shimmied up the rope, finding himself on deck. All was
quiet, save a few snorts, snores, and moans from the crew below. The loudest
appeared to come from the captain’s quarters. Jack allowed himself to breathe,
ever so slightly.
He took one step forward. The
night air seemed almost too quiet, too serene. A sliver of crescent moon barely
lit the ship’s deck in the night. Tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled
and stood on end. At once, the black around him was eerily silent. Something
was a bit off-kilter.
A gasp went up in the night. Swirling
to his rear, his gaze caught sight of the scene behind him. Hannah Claire stood
several feet away. Her chemise torn. Her face dirty. And her eyes wide at the
sight of him.
A pirate held her captive, a
dagger poised at her throat. Claire whimpered, “Jack. Go. It’s a trap.”
With that, the pirate pulled
her closer and dug the dagger deeper into her throat. His gaze shot to her eyes
and he saw the pain, the worry. She silently pleaded with him. And he knew she
wanted him to leave, to escape, but he’d be damned if he’d do it without her.
“Shut up, Claire. Nothing will
help him now,” the pirate spat into her hair.
His gaze shifted to the pirate.
“Unhand my wife.”
The pirate laughed. “Wife? You
are delusional, my friend. I’ll not release her. She’s mine, now.”
Anger roiled in his gut. No
scurvy bastard would take his wife from him again.
Behind him, a deep chuckle
resonated. He didn’t have to turn to know who was standing there. His senses
alert and keen, he kept his gaze on Hannah Claire’s face. It gave him the
strength to do what he had to do. He shifted to the pirate’s eyes, memorizing
the quiver in the dark irises. His gaze played over his face. Tiny dots of
perspiration beaded and streamed down from his hairline. Lowering his perusal,
Jack observed the tremble in the hand loosely pressing the dagger into Hannah
Claire’s throat.
This man was no pirate.
Jack would gamble on it.
In a lightning flash, he
flipped the rapier toward the so-called pirate and plucked a slice out of his
cheek. The man squealed and jumped back, grabbing his face and dropping the
dagger. In his attempt to flee, he pushed Hannah Claire toward Jack. She
shrieked. Abruptly, a blood-curdling scream went up behind him, and Jack
quickly turned, inadvertently shoving her aside. Blackbeard lunged, his heavy
cutlass swinging through the air. Jack knew his thin rapier wouldn’t be any
match for the huge man brandishing the heavy sword. Without hesitation, he
dropped it and jerked the pistol from his waist, firing into the man. The
bullet hit him in the left shoulder, stopping him only momentarily, but it was
enough time for Jack to grab Hannah Claire about the waist and rush to the ship’s
side.
As he hoisted her onto the
rail, he felt the slice rip into his thigh. The pirate with the dagger was
lunging. Quickly, he glanced into Hannah Claire’s frightened face and pushed
her over the side of the ship shouting, “Swim!”
He prayed she could swim.
He whirled back, having no idea
where Blackbeard was. The other pirate careened into his side and blocked his
peripheral vision. Jack plummeted to the floor. The pirate slammed into Jack’s
chest, pinning him to the deck, knees bent and his dagger at Jack’s throat. The
pistol sailed out of Jack’s hand and skidded across the sand-covered deck. The
atmosphere around them grew abruptly still.
Again, he peered into the
pirate’s eyes. Cold steel bit into the flesh of his neck and he felt the sting,
but did not acknowledge it. He held the connection between him and the other
man, sensing there was more to his story than met the eye. No words spoken
between them, there was a bond, an understanding, that the two of them should
be natural enemies. It all had to do with Hannah Claire. And this man, this
pirate who had held his wife captive, and now held his own life in his hands,
had a purpose to fulfill.
A deep chuckle went up behind
him.
This man wanted him dead.
Blackbeard wanted him dead and humiliated.
Slowly, not breaking the locked
gaze between them, Jack reached to his boot and slipped his own dagger free. His
thoughts were to sink the dagger deep into the pirate’s belly, hoping to take
him off guard enough so he would not slice his jugular. The howl that went up
behind him at that moment however, caused both the pirate and Jack to jerk, and
the dagger to slice into the man’s thigh.
Blackbeard came at them both in
full force, brandishing the cutlass, blood spurting from his wounded shoulder. “You’ll
not get by me this time, you bloody bastard!”
He hurled the words as both
Jack and the mysterious pirate skittered toward the ship’s rail. Jack knew
Blackbeard would sacrifice the other man to get to him. The cutlass whirled. The
pirate sank to the deck, a look of awe upon his face as he watched the blood
ooze through his fingers while holding his thigh.
Jack wasted no time. He’d leave
Blackbeard to Maynard’s men. Up on the rail he jumped, and without a backward
glance, he dove straight off the ship and into the brackish waters of the
sound.
###
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