Crimson Rapture (25 page)

"Aye!"
two of the men from the
Defiant
declared simultaneously.

A
different kind of silence then fell over the crowd as each man waited to see
Justin's response to the unexpected offer from the unexpected source. The
events leading to the animosity between the two men were commonly known and
then, too, it was a British military officer offering this hope. The
opportunity for deception and treachery were plain, and no one knew how to take
such an offer. They all looked to Justin for their cue.

By
this point Christina was thoroughly confused. She had no idea what a keel haul
was; she was certain she didn't want to know. She vaguely understood that
Justin and his men could not leave by British military ship—because obviously
they were considered criminals—but the idea had never before occurred to her.
But Carrington's suggestion made sense to her, for he could surely send word of
the island's location to one of Justin's other captains. So why the tension and
hesitation?

"I
shall take your offer at face value," Justin first replied. "Should
that scenario unfold, you should see a Captain Eli Steward in England or a
Mister Richardson in Boston." Justin paused with a wry smile and his men
remained silent, each knowing there would be more; each knowing their captain.
Justin would not leave himself or his men open to deception.

For
Justin had yet to be bested by anyone or anything; the victories and successes
of his ventures spoke for themselves. Except for that one time his ship was
undermanned and stuck on a sand bar and then met with no less than three
British men-of-war— the situation that had resulted in his capture—Justin had
never let his men down.

Nor
did he let his men down now.

"You
made the offer, Carrington, and I shall hold you to it—should a British
military ship actually venture to this island. And so I should warn you; if you
alert the military to our presence here, you will cause a bloodbath such has
not transpired on earth or in hell. And I will personally see that you are one
of the first to go down. Make no mistake, as small as my group is here, our
reputation speaks for itself. We are perfectly capable of defending
ourselves."

A
chorus of unanimous "Ayes" rose from his men but Justin silenced
them. "However," he continued, "it occurs to me that your offer
gives chance for different kind of deception. You might simply decide not to
tell anyone about our presence, leaving us marooned here. So, if we are not
rescued within six months of your departure, when I get off this island— and
believe me, I will get off this island—I will track you down and if you are not
already dead, you will certainly wish you had been."

The
men responded with low murmurs of approval but Christina looked away in horror,
frightened again by this—the other Justin. She had no doubt he could, would,
cause a bloodbath or track a man down only to leave him wishing for a quicker
mercy that never came. Crimes he had probably already committed. This was the
man with whom she had fallen in love. How was it possible?

"I
understand your threats," Carrington coolly replied after a considerable
pause. "I assure you that I have no intention of deceiving you or your
men, for—" he turned now to Cajun, "I owe you my life, perhaps even a
good deal more." He more than anyone was aware of how much he had changed.
This was all he said, and then with surprising dignity, he rose and left the
campfire.

Hanna
and Elsie began gathering the shells, placing them in a large fishing net to
take to the pond for washing, quietly talking over the evening's events between
themselves. Christina made no move to join them and instead watched as Justin,
Jacob, and some others strolled down the beach for a private discussion, one surely
involving plans. She then turned to Cajun.

She
found Cajun staring at her, perhaps through her, and for a moment she thought
his look of concern was owing to the fact that he had read her distress.

It
was not. Cajun was still remembering his dream, the unspoken part. He saw
Justin standing on the island's highest peak to look down to the water where
Christina stood on the deck of a British military ship. Cajun's remarkable
capacity to empathize allowed him even in his dreams to feel all the pain and anguish
and anger written on Justin's face as he watched her

"Cajun,
why are you looking at me so?"

Cajun
at first made no reply but she had a horrible feeling he was looking at her
unkindly. She started to question him but before a word was uttered, the man
John drew attention to the campfire.

"Lads,
the night calls for a celebration," he loudly suggested. "One with
toasts. First to our 'imminent' rescue and secondly," he smiled, "to
this night, the night of our lady's choice." He stopped the men's response
by holding up his hand. "Sammy here and I wouldn't want you to have to
toast such a fine night with babe's milk so we brought out the very last—
honest to God—tankard of ale."

It
was becoming the common joke. It seemed almost every night someone would manifest
what they swore was the very last—honest to God—tankard of ale. No one actually
knew now many of the twenty or so tankards had been stashed away, but it was
beginning to seem like the island had a never-ending supply.

While
the men laughed heartily, raising their cups in toast to what the night might
bring, Christina, knowing it was no longer a place for a woman, left to be
alone.

Carolyn
Knolls had listened to much of the night's discussion. She made her own plans
based on her own need for retribution. Should that nigger's prediction come
true—unlikely but just in case—she would leave and once she saw the shores of
England, she'd not hesitate to make it known and to the highest military
official just who was stranded on the island. This, even if she did manage to
suddenly find favor with Justin Phillips. After all, should she have him,
Justin would merely be an interesting diversion, hardly more than a pastime and
certainly nothing more. And to turn him in would even the score for all her
trouble and humiliation.

Trouble
she saw coming to the door.

She
carefully placed the dagger underneath the makeshift moss mattress and close to
the edge for easy retrieval. These things could be tricky, she knew. She shook
her hair loose from the knot and brushed the attractive locks smooth with
Christina Marks's stolen brush, a brush the poor chit had imagined lost in the
sand. She had enjoyed watching the girl vainly comb the sands for over an hour,
indicative, she thought with self-disgust, of how little it took to amuse
herself these days. Hoping her skimpy dress and unbound hair were enough to
deceive the wretched monsters of her intentions, she went to answer the door.

Cold
blue eyes greeted the men and she stood perfectly poised in front of them, a
catlike smile on her lips.

"A
very good evening to my lady," John said magnanimously, blatantly pausing
to enjoy the fine looks so seductively revealed. His smile spoke of his
pleasure. "Well now, we've come to hear your choice as you know. To make
it easier on yourself, what is surely 'a lady's sensibilities,' " he
sarcastically emphasized her title, "we've narrowed the selection to the
five of us who built your house for you. Seems only fair after all.
Gentlemen," he said in mockery, motioning behind him.

The
five men she had ever so coyly convinced would gain her favor if they built her
a house stepped forward. She suddenly found herself enjoying this evening's
game, thinking of each of their faces when they found a dead man in the morn.

Carolyn
eyed each one in turn and silently wondered if she might have made a mistake by
selecting John. Big and muscular, not an ounce of fat and obviously capable of
handling any number of wenches, John might prove difficult. Of course each man
looked uncommonly strong and capable; Justin Phillips made no random choice of
his men.

Four
of the men—John included—were not unhandsome. Indeed, she saw that a low kind
of woman might find them tolerably attractive. Though one man had something
wrong with his eyes; they did not seem to work together and this bothered her.
She eliminated him, and then another man for what seemed to be a clubbed foot.
It was a wonder anyone had survived birth with all their wretched defects. She
hardly bothered a glance at the man she considered too unattractive.

Carl
witnessed her silent rebuke and stepped back without a word, feeling quite the
fool. She had said so many things to him about "hard-working men" and
"if she could just have her own place built" and then that warm smile
of hers, promises that she'd favor his visits...

He
knew many names for such a woman.

This
left Carolyn only Samuel and John. Though she liked Samuel's fair looks and
could imagine many a maid finding his freckled face handsome in a boyish kind
of way, he was even larger than John. Thus her original choice was confirmed.

"What's
a lady to do with so many fine prospects," she finally said as though she
was a young girl with her first dance card in hand. "But if I must choose—
and I see that you do insist—I'll waste no more time and I'll get on with this
ah, adventure with you." She pointed at her victim.

John
both hoped for and suspected such a decision, and with a quick good-bye and a
smile, he stepped through her door.

She
smiled sweetly in turn, reminding herself to use all her strength, for flesh
yields uneasily to cold metal. The door was shut.

The
men were disappointed as they joined the others at the campfire, some laughing,
others scowling but all muttering unkind testaments to what was wholeheartedly
agreed upon as a poor choice. A colorful discussion of women sprang to life as
the men finished their cups, one that soon focused on that kind of women. It
was Carl who came closest to understanding the viciousness of the lady's heart,
and he was the first to suggest that it wasn't fair the only unspoken for
female on the island, one who possessed such a blatantly malevolent nature,
should get away with, 'spreadin' 'her thighs for just one of us.'

"The
likes of 'her should 'ave the lot of us and not one less. Might teach the
uppity wench a lesson."

* * * * *

"It's
amazing how we're planning as though Cajun's fantasy was already brought to
life." Justin laughed as he and his men returned back to the caves.
"No questions asked. Even I'm acting on the premise that his dream has
become reality."

"I've
lived through too many of the savage's dreams to doubt anymore," Jacob
replied. He thought of the dragon and monsoon, one and the same in his mind and
he looked out into the clear star-filled night and was thankful again for
drawing breath. "But it makes sense on a rational level too."

"I
know. Cajun's dreams spring from a sharp mind, that's all. Of course a British
military ship will find us. They'll be scouting these seas for the missing
Defiant,
searching each island for survivors of what could only be either a pirate's
capture or a shipwreck. Cajun's far more logic than magic."

"Aye
and in any event, time will tell."

"It
always does."

They
reached the campfire. A warm wind blew across the beach, and the red flames of
the campfire leaped and lashed out a greeting. The primitive light on the men's
faces, their half-naked and muscled frames, taken with the laughter and heated
cursing as each fought for the attention of the whole, all created a scene that
seemed taken from man's past. An ancient and savage past.

Assuming
Christina waited in their cave, Justin was about to turn in when caught the
drift of their conversation. He stepped into the light of the fire with Cajun
and Jacob stepping behind him. "I see our, ah, 'lady' has chosen," he
addressed the group at large. He noted John's absence with surprise, surprise
that she actually picked anyone. "Let me make this clear. So long as she
has picked, she's not to see any harm— much as she deserves otherwise.
Understood?"

For
a moment silence reigned and just as reluctant ayes were called a man's
astonished howl broke into the air. All heads turned toward the small shack
down the way, though Justin and Jacob first thought it must be Diego and they
looked in the opposite direction. Suddenly there was cursing, loud cursing that
could only be John, and then a furious shuffle, a lady's cry, and pounding
against the wall.

"Geezus!
John must be beatin' the lass!" a man exclaimed.

"I
ain't never known John to harm a woman—any woman—"

"Hell
no! He puts them on a pedestal, treats 'em like they were queens—"

The
inane discussion of John's amorous practices came to an abrupt halt as John
burst from the shack, dragging Carolyn in front of him. He held a dagger to her
throat. Naked except for a thin cotton loincloth, she struggled vainly against
John's hold. He quickly brought her screaming to the crowd of men. Carolyn
closed her eyes in stark humiliation and fell silent, though she still thrashed
in a frantic effort to free herself.

"She
tried to kill me," he announced, cruelly tightening his hold to stifle her
squirms. "Thrust a dagger in my backside!"