CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS BOUND to happen, of course. The Dragon wasn’t as big as a Spanish galleon or ship of the line with dozens of nooks and spaces to hide. It was a schooner. There was no telling what had prompted Captain Gamponetti to inspect the lower decks and walk past the cabin where Eva and the twins hid.
Perhaps it was a sixth sense.
To their credit, they did manage to remain hidden for two and a half days.
The morning of departure, Sister Beatrice had returned with a trunk containing extra clothes, as well as a stash of dried fruit and biscuits, and gifted the captain with a cask of the abbey’s finest rum to show her gratitude, hoping it would keep him too busy to notice the goings on below.
The twins’ tempers shortened and although Eva did her best to diffuse any arguments, the children became bored and testy. It started with a quick yank on a braid by Julian and ended with his sister’s enraged shriek. Soon after, an unexpected knock rapped the door.
Jacqueline’s eyes widened and she clamped her hand over her mouth, too little too late. Julian fisted his hands in the hair at the top of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Now you’ve done it, Jacquie.”
“Me?” she hissed. “You started it!”
“Shh!” Eva glanced around frantically, hopelessly. There was no place all three could hide in the small space. Sister Beatrice had abandoned them to get some air, so the three of them would have to face whoever knocked alone.
She examined their options, evaluated their reasoning and tried to put together a solid argument, but they had only one option, their reasoning weak, and her thoughts kept colliding leaving her with a jumbled mess of useless words, so no argument was forthcoming.
Time to accept the consequences.
She checked her veil, more from habit than anything, took a deep breath and unlatched the door. All muscle, sinew and bone, Drago Gamponetti blocked the doorway with his bulk. A dim lantern illuminated the passageway behind him outlining him in a flickering fire. With his dark hair loose about his shoulders and his face in shadow, Hades himself could be standing there. Her gaze immediately locked on his face, which went through a series of expressions, starting with surprise and ending with rage.
Stormcloud eyes flashed; inky brows slanted down, face all straight lines and fury. “What in the hell are you doing here?” He ground out the words with an intensity capable of chewing stone.
There were so many things she could say, but only one answer to his question, and it had to do with Jacqueline and she wasn’t about to deliver the girl front and center for a whipping. Eva knew little about captaining a boat, but she did know the consequences for a member of a crew who defied their captain’s orders. They’s get at least three lashes for the affront. Perhaps a more general approach toward answering the question was in order.
“Well?” He glared, crossing his arms. He wore black boots, breeches, and a shirt, the ties open, revealing an interesting V-shaped section of his deeply tanned chest.
“Sailing to New Orleans,” she said in a thin voice, eyes still on his exposed skin and the light sprinkling of hair. It could be soft. Or coarse. Only a few inches away, she caught the scent of sea spray, leather something sharp and musky as well. Augh! The man was distracting.
“You damn well are not!” He pushed the door wide and ducked inside causing her to flinch and jump back. Her reaction seemed to startle him and he gave her a wary once-over before he turned his attention to the children.
Jacqueline and Julian huddled together in the corner, watching. Probably hoping the nun might be able to provide some sort of divine intervention on their behalf. Unfortunately for them, she didn’t possess that kind of influence.
She tensed and resolved to bear a stronger countenance to the man. He couldn’t intimidate or scare her any more than he had already. In fact, he was going to learn she was more than a meek little woman in a nun’s robe and tunic who couldn’t prevent him from kissing her. She ground her teeth and mashed her lips together. Now he had her thinking about the kiss again after she worked so hard to wall off that stupid memory.
She had responsibilities of her own, to her order and to the church, a chain whose last link inevitably ended at God’s feet. She was here for a good reason. A very good reason.
She forced a more stern tone. “Capitaine Gamponetti—”
“It’s not her fault, captain.” Julian walked forward. He swallowed as if a shoe was wedged in his throat. “It’s...it’s mine. I wanted to come with you and she came after me. I wouldn’t return to the abbey and Jacqueline wouldn’t leave me.”
Eva felt her eyes widen. What was he thinking? She clutched the side of her tunic. Had he thought she was going to expose his sister to him? She groaned. All he’d done was stir the captain’s anger.
Captain Gamponetti’s face darkened as he spun to face the boy. “I told you to protect your sister,” he snarled. “I entrusted her safekeeping to you. I thought you were ready to be a man and embrace your obligations, but obviously, you’re a still a little milksop.” His gray eyes turned thunderous. He reached out and grabbed the boy’s collar then hitched him up against the wall. Julian let out a choked squawk, his fingers automatically clutched Gampo’s forearms.
An instinctive quake skimmed through Eva’s body, both dreadful and familiar freezing her bones. A man enraged beyond his ability to control his actions brought pain and destruction, left broken things in his wake.
A brace of lean muscle and power, the man was ruthless and commanding. The straight planes of his face severe, and firm as stone, eyes flinty gray and furious. Gone was the concerned man she met at the abbey. Here stood Captain Gampo, the pirate.
Some women, brave women of grace and strength, could calmly soften a man’s temper with a word or a touch. But for her, such a furor whipped her heart to a racing beat and her voice to shreds, as if a fistful of twigs had been shoved down her throat; she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t talk.
The boy didn’t deserve punishment for her failings. She faltered in her responsibility, not Julian. She shouldn’t have let the twins out of her sight. She should have—
“Stop!” Jacqueline’s voice pierced the air at a pitch that could have shattered glass.
The captain jerked his head around, eyes round and white rimmed. When the girl placed her thin hand on his wrist, the dark charcoal rings around his silver irises softened, even though his jaw stayed hard.
Jacqueline would be one of those strong women of grace someday.
“Please, Captain Gampo, stop.” Her eyes darted to her brother, who gave her a small shake of his head, an unspoken plea to be quiet. But the mighty little Jacqueline wouldn’t be hushed. “It’s truly my fault.I decided to run away from the abbey and steal aboard.” She hung her head. “Julian wouldn’t let me go alone, and Sister Eva came looking for me. I wanted to go with you, so I could warn my family.” Raising her chin to meet his stormy glare, she added the affront, “I worried you wouldn’t get to them in time.”
His lips flattened and he allowed the boy’s feet slide to the floor before facing Jacqueline. She stood perfectly still, the tiniest tremble in her lower lip the only sign of emotion except for the slight widening of her eyes. He leaned down until his face was even with hers. Gray eyes flashed a steely promise before he spoke, and his voice lowered further to a livid, offended growl. “I don’t know what’s worse, you defying a direct order, or questioning my ability to see a sworn duty done.”
Jacqueline’s face paled, her mouth opened, then closed. Gampo’s nostrils flared at her silence. “You put yourselves, and my men, in a greater danger, because now I have to turn around and take you back, which will vastly reduce the time and distance between us and the British.” He poked his finger at the girl. “And the time to move your family to safety.” His voice shifted from that fire-lined growl to something even more terrifying, although she couldn’t describe it. A tone of impending doom resonated from the deep baritone in the captain’s voice. He studied Eva through slashed brows. “And the time to warn Father Dubourg. This was incredibly foolish of you all.”
Well, when he put it that way, it did sound stupid and irresponsible.
Julian swallowed. “Sir—”
Gampo’s fist still gripped the collar of Julian’s shirt and jacket. His free hand whipped up faster than Eva could wince; a single index finger sliced the boy’s sentence into silence. He swiveled his head back to Julian. “While assuming responsibility for your sister’s transgressions is admirable, your previous admission brands you a liar,” he said, voice chillingly soft. “I have no regard for liars.” He released the boy, moved to the doorway and gestured with his hand for the three of them to precede him.
“Out.”
The twins wilted; they shuffled as if heading for the gallows. She could almost see the thick cloud of dread following them.
“Where are we going?” Eva asked before stepping after the children. She couldn’t keep the fear from her voice. It trembled. “What are you going to do?”
Campo closed his eyes briefly before he expelled a breath. “I’m not holding you responsible, Sister Eva. I know very well how these two heathens can get under your skin and worm their way into your mind. Still, you’d do well to remember I am the master of this ship. If I can’t maintain discipline, the men won’t respect my authority.” He grasped her arm and ushered her from the room, fingers biting into her elbow.
She wanted to jerk her elbow from his grasp, his hand was way too warm. “You haven’t answered my question, Capitaine Gampo,” she said. At her address, he stopped. His brows slammed down and he pinned her with a heated stare. A muscle rippled in his cheek. She shot a pointed look at his hand. “You’re hurting me.”
He let go as if burned. “You’ll soon see for yourself.”
The twins’ countenance disturbed her, sinking like a rock in her stomach. What was about to happen next, surely wouldn’t be to her liking.
Keeping her head bowed and a hand on the hem of her veil near her jaw to keep the wind from blowing it up and exposing her face, she trailed the twins.
Crewmen paused in their tasks and stared. She studied them in return. The men made a crew of every size, shape, and color. Some dark and bearded, others light and hairless. Asian, African, Indian, Persian, and European blood flowed through the veins of this crew. Some wore no shirts. Averting her eyes would be expected of a nun, and should have come quite naturally, but she couldn’t stop herself from using the opportunity to study their scars and ponder the origin.
A giant African stood at the helm, hand on the wheel. He wore a sleeveless shirt and a loincloth. Two leather straps crossed his chest; one held a pistol, the other a wickedly curved sword. His dark eyes flicked from Gampo to her then back to the captain, his expression unreadable.
Another sailor, with a long beard darkly tanned skin and dressed in eastern clothing, leered at her, licked his lips, before spitting on the boards an inch from her toes. Anxiety kicked up the acid enough to coat her tongue. His message was clear. Neither her church nor her religion had any authority over him. Capitaine Gampo had told her about the different beliefs and cultures his men brought to the ship when he explained why they believed women were bad luck. She gave herself a mental note to keep well out of that man’s way.
Sister Beatrice stood talking with a middle-aged couple near the rail. At Eva’s appearance, surprise flashed across the woman’s face. She made the sign of the cross before she shuffled to Eva’s side. The captain ignored her.
He turned and bellowed. “All hands to the sheets! Prepare to come about.” Sailors leaped into action, hauling lines and adjusting spars, according to his continued instructions. The African turned the wheel and the schooner canted to make a slow turn.
He paused by the center mast. “Mister Harvey, a word,” he said, voice curt.
The wiry, grizzled man perched on a barrel glanced up. The rope he’d been repairing slithered to the floor. He hopped off and limped over.
A rush of panic fluttered across Eva’s chest. They were turning around! She pressed forward, past the children until she was closer. “We can’t go back now!” She had to get home!
Gampo impaled her with a steely glare and she clamped her mouth shut and bit her lip, realizing her error too late. She just questioned the commander’s orders.
“We can go back, and we will.” He spun on his heel. “Mister Harvey!” Gampo’s voice roared across the deck.
“Aye, sir!” The old man took in the gloomy expressions of the twins and the serious set of his captain’s jaw, hooked his fingers in his belt and waited.
Gampo’s jaw tightened. “Bring one of the longboat paddles to the mizzen mast.”
“Aye, sir,” Harvey muttered to his toes, then left to do his bidding.
“Manuel!” Gampo thundered once again.
“Aye, sir!” The big man looped a rope around a belaying pin and strode over.
“Strap the boy’s hands.” He jerked his chin toward Julian.
Manuel started to step forward, then hesitated to glance back, his brows pinched in confusion. “The boy? You mean Julian?”
Gampo lifted an eyebrow and nodded once.
This confirmed Eva’s suspicions. She focused on the captain, willing him to turn her way, imploring him with her eyes and her heart to change the course of his intent, but he stood proud and stoic and stared past them to the horizon. If it wasn’t for the muscle balled in his jaw, he would have appeared to be oblivious to what went on around him.
A short time later, Julian faced a grating, wrists bound high enough to put him on his tiptoes. Jacqueline stood next to Gampo; she trembled, but to the girl’s credit she made no sound.
“Harvey, step up.” Gampo crossed his arms and glared at the twins.
Harvey thumped the oar handle on the deck .”Right here, sir.”
Thick brows shuttered the captain’s eyes, and his tone was deceptively soft. “What’s worse, defying orders or lying to your captain?”
The old salt scratched his bristly neck. “Can’t rightly say, sir. Both seem ter be equally...offensive.” Harvey’s last word almost lifted above the breeze.
Gampo nodded. “Agreed. Equal paddles for both, then. Three for each.”
Three for each? Was he going to paddle Jacqueline with a ten-foot oar? One swing would snap her in half!
Harvey looked from Jacqueline to her brother, strapped to the breastwork. “Sir?” He paled slightly.
“The boy has taken responsibility for the petticoat’s actions, so he’ll also take her punishment.” He flicked his hand toward Julian.
A small sob escaped from Jacqueline’s pale lips
Harvey coughed. “Aw, well captain, sir, me hands don’t grip so well these days--“
Gampo arched a sardonic brow. “You’d have me select another? Perhaps Raul? A stronger chap with a fiercer grip and broader shoulders? And a more forceful swing?”
The seaman shifted his gaze to the African still standing near the helm.
Eva finally released a breath. He had a heart after all.
Harvey quickly shook his head, apparently realizing his captain’s intentions. “No, sir! I’ll do it, sir.” He hopped up to the grate. “Ain’t no greenie gonna take me place,” he stated loudly as he picked up the paddle, and straightened. He tucked his head down and muttered something under his breath, but Eva couldn’t make out the words; it could have been another complaint, but unquestionably something he didn’t want to be overheard or he’d have said it louder.
The rest of the men had halted their duties and gathered around the mizzen mast. The lines groaned and the wind sang in the sails, yet the quiet was more distinct.
Harvey hefted the long oar back and swung; contact with Julian’s backside broke the silence with a loud crack. The boy threw his head back and gritted his teeth, swallowing a grunt of pain. Eva’s stomach clenched. It was a mighty long paddle.
Gampo stepped forward and for a moment she thought he was going to stop Harvey. Instead, he spoke to Julian. “Don’t you dare cry.”
The brute.
The boy dropped his head and Jacqueline stared, eyes wide. Eva moved closer to Gampo’s shoulder and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “You are a vicious monster.”
He cocked his head toward her voice then shrugged unaffected by her slur. “A tightly run ship requires discipline and obedience from everyone on board.”
“You have made your point,” she hissed. It was easy to understand the structure of the hierarchy, and the reasons behind establishing a stringent set of rules as well as consequences for breaking them. It was the same when dealing with children; if they sensed a weak character or a softening countenance, they’d press their advantage until they became uncontrollable. Rules and routines were necessary and important; both with sailors and children alike.
Jacqueline sniffled and closed her eyes. Gampo glanced down at her, his voice cold and flat. “You’re not a coward, little skirt. Open your eyes and accept your punishment.”
“Do you want respect or fear, capitaine?” Eva moved closer. He was near enough now she caught his musky scent mingled with salt air and sea mist, triggering the memory of the kiss in the kitchen pantry, something that would not help to think about this moment.
He narrowed an eye at her. “Are you saying my men obey me because they fear me?”
What was it that made men thirst for the approval of their peers? Was it this need for respect that ignited their desire to reign over others like kings, whether royal-born or not?
She shrugged. “I’m saying there’s a difference between respect and fear, and a difference as well between discipline and cruelty, capitaine.”
The breeze suddenly lifted Eva’s veil and she snatched at the edge to restrain it.
Then paused.
Maybe her scar would drive understanding a little deeper into his mind. Best to get it over with; she delayed it too long anyway. In all honesty, it was terribly vain of her to hide behind a veil, but it had become as much a part of her as the scar. She released the gossamer fabric and allowed the twist of the wind to fling it away from her face to trail behind her like a comet.
She ignored the astonished faces. At least she tried to.
Shocked expressions and impolite stares were nothing new; she endured them for almost ten years. Children pointing, women talking behind fans, eyes on her until she noticed, then dropping their gaze or turning their backs. What was it about the macabre that lured people in, and made them hunger for another glimpse?
She kept her eyes on the captain, waiting for the moment his attention would be drawn to her face and his eyes would widen in horror and disgust.
She thought back to the boy who’d wanted to marry her. Even a year-long courtship hadn’t been solid enough to keep the ugly scar from interfering.
Still, her heart clenched when he finally gave her his full attention. She stood in front of him and waited while his perusal followed the long, wicked trail from her chin, across the corner of her mouth, up her cheek to the flat tip of her ear before locking on her eyes.
No one had ever been able to mask their reaction, not even when they were forewarned she was maimed. Yet he did. The slight tightening of the corners of his lips was his only response. His gaze swirled with interest, intelligence, and residual anger.
“Cruelty is not interchangeable with discipline, capitaine.” She could barely choke out the words. Why did his reaction matter to her? Why did she care what he thought about her deplorable face?
Why did she hope?
Eva had noted the nicks and scars on his face when they first met. Many of the sailors had multiple scars. Some had lost fingers. The cook had only one leg. Maybe disfigurement was normal to him, and not something from which to recoil.
Either that or he was very, very good at keeping his emotions cloaked behind an impenetrable emotional shield and those thick black lashes.
Still, there had been a flicker of something else in his eyes.
Pity?
No. For once, it wasn’t an expression of pity; she’d seen that enough to recognize it at once. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek and the last rays of the waning sun heated her cheeks as the glowing orange fireball made its inevitable descent toward the horizon. She let her eyelids close for the briefest moment to savor the sensation.
Her horrible, marred, abused face.
For some reason, a lump knotted in her chest, something that hadn’t happened in this situation in years and she struggled to tamp it down before it brought the tears along with it.
Finding her voice she met his storm cloud gaze with her own. “Wise leaders know showing mercy also earns admiration. It can strengthen loyalty as well. I did not take you for a tyrant, Capitaine Gamponetti.”
Harvey hoisted the oar. The second swing elicited another painful grunt from Julian and he panted in quick pained gasps. Jacqueline clutched her dress by its collar, tears streamed to her jawbone and dripped on her whitened knuckles.
Without releasing her from his iron stare, he spoke. “Enough, Mr. Harvey. I think I’ve made my point.”
Eva shut her eyes, more to escape his perusal than anything. When she finally had the courage to open them, she glanced up to find him still studying her, his steely eyes now glimmered with...what? Appreciation? Relief? There was energy emanating from him in strong waves, leaving her both invigorated and sapped of strength. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He continued. “On behalf of Sister Eva’s gentle request for mercy, I commute the sentence to the two strokes served.” He and strode toward the helm and barked at his cousin over his shoulder.
“Aye!”
“Take them back to their cabin and lock the door.”
“Aye, sir.”
Jacqueline ran her brother’s side. Her hands shook as she untied Julian’s wrists. Manuel fumbled with the straps. Jacqueline’s eyes still welled with tears. Her brother turned his head and met his sister’s gaze.
“Don’t you cry neither, Jacquie,” he whispered, through thin, pale lips.
Eva secured her veil and moved to help. She tried to shift her body under the young boy’s arm, but Manuel gently nudged her out of the way, hoisted him like a sack of sugar, grasped Jacqueline’s wrist and headed for the hatch. Sister Beatrice waited with hands clasped, her face blank and stoic.
Eva chanced one last grateful glance at the man’s back, before following.
She peeked into the cabin. Jacqueline slid down the wall and hugged her knees; great gasping sobs shuddered through her willowy frame. Julian crawled in a hammock and rolled to his side, facing away from them. He curled into himself and stilled. She left him to his misery. It wouldn’t do for her to embarrass him further by making her presence known.
“Ju...Ju...Julian--“ Jacqueline hiccuped.
“Stop apologizing, Jacquie.” The anguish in his tone tugged Eva’s heart. “You know the captain was right.”
“I...know...but still--“
Julian huffed a shallow breath. “I’m just glad he let me keep my britches on in front of the nuns.”
Why weren’t they angry? She would have certainly been upset. It had taken all her reserve to refrain from sending her fist into Gampo’s austere, slashing mouth earlier. Strange it seemed so hard and unyielding now when it was so pliant and soft when...
No. She would not think about that.
Instead, she turned and secured the door, her mind in a jumble as she went back up on deck, unsure if she wanted another confrontation with Gampo.
Determined to avoid him, Eva made her way to the fore part of the schooner where she hoped she remained out of the way of the crewmen, ropes, and sails. This was only her second voyage on a ship of this size. The speed thrilled her heart, along with the crack of the canvas and the way the sun warmed her face and the wind kissed it.
A cry came from the tops. “Sails ho! Sails ho!”
The captain’s clipped voice boomed from the steerage. “How many?”
“A great number, Capt’n!” A pause. “It’s...the British armada!”
Eva caught her breath and scanned the horizon, but could see nothing.
Captain Gamponetti issued additional commands. “Ready about! Hard a-lee the helm! Luff around!”
The African’s voice barked across the deck, “Helm’s a-lee!”
“Man jib downhaul! Raise and tack sheets!”
The Dragon exploded into movement, every man at some task with frantic focus as the ship began a graceful turn. Her sails shivered as she crossed the wind.
“Ho, Sister Eva!” Canvas flapped and she spun to see Harvey scampering toward her. “Stand here, sister so ye don’ts gits swayed away.”
She shifted to the spot he indicated while the sails swiveled with the vessel as she came about amid shouted orders and replies. When she directed her attention back to the horizon, she barely made out the tiny white specks scattered there. Her stomach tightened.
The captain ordered the men to unfurl all the sheets and soon the Dragon flew over the water and the specks disappeared. He descended the steps and made his way to where she gripped the rail. The air seemed to shift as he neared. It sharpened and nipped at her skin, sparking a heightened awareness of his proximity.
He followed her gaze and spoke without looking at her, his voice gravelly soft. “It appears your request to continue to New Orleans will be granted, after all, sister.”
She fought a smile, pressing her lips together, but the corners still pushed up. “That’s the way God works sometimes, Capitaine Gamponetti.” It was impossible to keep that tiny bit of smug satisfaction from her voice. One peek at the hard glint in his granite eyes and she wished she’d tried a little harder.
The silver rims around his irises widened. Slowly, the anger seeped from his expression, replaced with a resigned annoyance, acknowledging the irony with a light snort and a smirk, pulling a dimple into one cheek.
“So it would seem, Sister Eva. So it would seem.”