Crimson Rapture (6 page)

"It's
a rather long story," he shrugged, thinking of his very influential
father, Lord Winston Phillips. England would always protect its aristocracy,
even at the expense of some principles. While his father could not openly
support his bastard rebel son, the old man had certainly operated behind the
scenes before, during, and after the trial to make certain his son was both
spared a hangman's noose and never saw prison. Not that his father's help had
really mattered, for Cajun, Jacob, and the rest of his men would have managed
even without help. "Suffice to say, the
Defiant
's
course had
been made known and my ships have been paralleling her. They would have been
here far earlier, except for the dead weather."

Christina
had no idea why this information frightened her far more than it relieved her.
"Captain Forester," she thought out loud, "is not going to let
you go without a fight."

Justin
merely laughed at this. "The
Defiant
stands not a chance against
one of my ships, yet alone two. Captain Forester seems a fair and smart man and
I'm sure he'll surrender without a fight. But, Christina, I want you to
know—"

She
suddenly gasped as two strong hands lifted her bodily upright.

"Miss
Marks! What in God's name are you doing talking to Mister Phillips!" Captain
Forester never gave her a chance to answer. "You should be ashamed, Miss
Marks, ashamed—a young lady of your position and background. Well! I've had
just about enough out of you! You're to remain in your quarters."

Justin's
dog Beau, a huge Saint Bernard known for his ability to outsmart people and an
occasional heroic deed, lifted his body onto the deck rail of the
Athena.
The
ship glided effortlessly over eight-foot crests. Sails flapped madly, greedily
fed by a strong wind. A gray dawn broke over the open sea and yet a mysterious
strip of black settled between the gray sky and the darker sea. For Beau,
though, it was the smell; the scent of sea and air were wrong and he barked,
growled, and then whimpered, concerned.

Jacob
Robbins had just been called on deck, having given the order he was to be
awakened as soon as the
Defiant
came into view. Standing alongside
Cajun, Jacob looked for the
Defiant
off windward on the far horizon, and
once he spotted her, he enthusiastically began a discussion of its easy
capture.

The
two men, Justin's longtime friends, presented an arresting picture. Nearly as
tall as Justin, Jacob had a long and thin, not unhandsome face. A scar slashed
across his cheek and many more appeared on his muscled arms and chest, evidence
of too many fights. Golden colored skin set off light blue eyes, but he had
silver hair and brows. Not gray but rather that pure metallic color of precious
metal, a color at direct odds with his youthful face. His father had been a
wealthy Italian shipping merchant, his mother of the fiery Irish ancestry, and
the only thing he loved more than fighting and ladies was the sea.

Cajun
stood in direct contrast to his friend. He possessed a strange, almost mystical
air and no one could ever guess his origins from appearance. One might say
Oriental from his fine almond-shaped and dark liquid eyes, Indian from the
smooth caramel color of his skin, Negro from his unusual height, large white
grin, and deep bellowing laughter, and Arab from his famous surprise attacks
and the ever-present saber on his side. And always he stood with his legs
apart, his arms folded across the huge expanse of his bare chest, seeming as
though he was separated from his surroundings, but a passive observer in this
world. It was a misleading impression, one that was often a fatal mistake of
his enemies.

"Captain!"
a man shouted from the lookout, stopping Jacob mid-sentence. "To
starboard!"

Jacob
and Cajun, along with the rest of the crew, quickly assembled on the starboard.
For several moments Jacob simply refused to believe the phenomenon taking shape
there, a phenomenon that Cajun prophesied in one of his dreams. Two days ago,
Cajun had dreamed of seeing a huge dragon devouring the ships and neither Jacob
nor he had known what to make of it.

Like
many others, Cajun though had never witnessed the sight and he had no idea what
to make of the small stripe of darkness on the gray horizon.

"A
storm?" someone finally questioned, breaking the ominous silence.

"If
it only was just a storm," Jacob muttered under his breath.

Looking
like a gathering from the Tower of Babel, the men remained in an uneasy silence
as they watched and waited. Dawn spread slowly against the barren gray desert
of ocean. Wings of light reached from one corner to the next, but the darkness,
still but a sliver of black on the most distant horizon, remained untouched by
sunlight. An impenetrable black void.

"Well,
w'at in God's name is it?"

"That
mate," Jacob explained, "is the opening to hell."

* * * * *

After
weeks of nothing but an empty blue sky and windless sea, a storm was heading
their way. All passengers were confined to quarters until further notice, and
each passenger had been given ropes to tie themselves to the bunks. While these
measures had frightened all the other passengers, Christina's fear grew from a
far graver concern.

Despite
the captain's warning of danger, there existed a collective calm in her small
quarters and the five young women pretended nothing was wrong. Christina sat on
Hanna's bunk finding a strange comfort as Hanna took a brush to her loosened
hair. Hanna stroked methodically, almost absentmindedly, while she chatted with
Elsie, Marianna, and Katie. On the bunk above, Elsie swung stick-thin legs to
and fro, rocking with the ship's growing movement, while amusing them with
stories of her mistress's ludicrous pretensions, speculating out loud on how
Lady Knowles might be faring in the face of danger.

Hanna
and Elsie, so brave and unconcerned, Christina thought. They might have all
been sitting safely by a warm fire in a cozy parlor back home. How she admired
their daring and recklessness.

Like
her mother before her, Hanna May Haley had been in service to the Everetts as
long as anyone could remember. Elsie had arrived at the house later and the two
women, so alike in temperament, had become fast friends.

Christina
often marveled at how strikingly similar they were in character while
completely opposite in appearance, and once she had tried to render Hanna and
Elsie in her sketchbook. Hanna had a tall voluptuous figure, bordering
attractively on plumpness. Tight red curls framed her round, pleasing face and
her cheeks were always flushed; her bright eyes always danced with laughter.
Elsie was her opposite. She was small and thin with an abundance of dark brown
hair haloing a pixy-cute face, a face that revealed all the mischief in her
heart.

Christina
had been dissatisfied with her sketch and had given up. Elsie and Hanna had
come out looking somewhat humorous. Somehow her emotions and feelings always
prevented her from rendering the stark realism she sought.

No
one ever told her this was the gift of an artist.

Marianna
and Katie, while laughing softly at Elsie's fun, had a bit more trouble
dismissing the increasing motion of the ship. The two women sat closely
together, Marianna's arm resting protectively over her friend's shoulder to
brace against the rocking. Katie's small white hands wrapped tightly around
Marianna's arm. She had tried to be sick but none of them had eaten more than
bread rolls and Christina worried as the young lady's pallor blanched whiter
still.

Marianna
and Katie were both in their late twenties, as close as sisters, and for most
of the voyage had kept to themselves. "Katie's all I have in this
world," Marianna once said to Christina. The two women had been orphans,
raised together in a poor house and eventually had become "house
mums" there. While they tried to speak of the poor house with humor,
Christina—sensitive to the meaning hidden in the words—knew the humor covered
despair and loneliness of two children trapped in an unkind world. Together,
they had both opted for marriage by posting in Australia rather than face
certain spinsterhood in England. Spinsterhood not the result of their
appearance or manner, for indeed both women were fairly attractive and
pleasant, and each owned a Christian education. But their lives presented
precious few opportunities to meet eligible men.

Katie
might even be considered pretty. She was small, with baby-fine chestnut hair
and pleasing features, although many scars from a bout with childhood pox
marked her skin. Marianna was unnaturally tall for a woman, but her somewhat
ungainly features were softened by a warm smile and pretty blue eyes.

Christina
could not fathom what Marianna's and Katie's lives would be like. The idea of
entering into the sacred union with men one didn't know scared her. The two men
were supposedly good Christians and, like Christina's uncle, they each owned
small farms not far apart, so at least Marianna and Katie would have the
comfort of each other. Christina often wondered, though, what if their husbands
were unpleasant or even cruel? What would happen without the protection of
family, or indeed even congregation?

Christina
would have been shocked to discover that both Marianna and Katie, along with
everyone else who could weigh their respective circumstances, saw her own
future as far more uncertain and potentially unfortunate.

Hanna
lifted Christina's hair to the side and began braiding a small portion,
creating a fetching chignon, as she joined Elsie's musing. "Oh aye,"
she laughed, "I kin just see me mistress and ole 'enpecked 'Enry
now—" Hanna called the lord by that affectionate title. "No tellin'
w'at ole Lord Henry will do once 'e gets the lady tied to a bunk. No doubt 'tis
the poor man's first opportunity in years." With the exception of
Christina, they all laughed. "I suspect the ole guy is a avin' the time of
is life right about now. Why I kin just 'ear that shrill voice of me lady's:
'Enry, stop it! Stop it I say! I'm warning you... Oh! Oh! Oh..."

Christina
was hardly listening as she turned her cruel fate over and over again in her
head. Justin's men would rescue him today and she would never hear of him
again. If only she had a chance to view his person. Just once! She would draw
him immediately. How she would cherish a picture of him to carry with her
always.

She
often tried to imagine what he looked like. In her mind's eye she created a
picture of a man not very tall, but medium height like her father. He would
possess a slight, perhaps even slender physique, though she could not say why
she thought so. Perhaps because his intellectual facilities were so keen and
sharp. She dismissed the trouble Justin had caused fighting the crew and Mister
Carrington as patently not true. There must be a mistake in the telling.
Justin, kind and gentle and so very compassionate, would not be capable of any
such violence. Nor would he be handsome, though surely she'd find him
attractive with his soft blue eyes, eyes that were at once intelligent and—

A
tremendous explosion jolted the ship sharply on its side, throwing Christina,
Hanna, and Elsie above hard against the wall. Katie screamed and Marianna
hugged her tightly while bracing as though for a blow to the face.

"
'Tis cannon fire!" Elsie cried as she recovered. They all braced
themselves and waited, listening to the shouts, orders and running feet heard
above, sounds that were small and weak against a fierce howling of wind, rain,
and a raging sea.

Captain
Forester watched the sleek sailing ship draw boldly alongside the
Defiant,
while
the
Hero
drew along starboard. The two ships' cannons were manned,
readied, and aimed, seemingly at his very person, as he stood on quarterdeck
giving orders. A lifeboat was being lowered into a menacingly churning sea.

"Bring
the prisoner to deck," he ordered and then to young Ensign Gibson,
"Warn the passengers that we are being boarded by pirates. All cabin doors
should be bolted locked.

"Aye,
aye!"

The
battle had been over before it started. The
Defiant
would lose to one of
the ships, two merely assured the end would be quick. There was nothing to be
done, save enduring the humiliation of the audacious act.

Young
Gibson raced along the dark hall, wet from the rain and nearly shaking with fear.
He called into each cabin to explain pirates were boarding the
Defiant,
that
the captain ordered all doors bolted and shut.

Christina
gasped and stood in mute panic while the other ladies jumped up at once. A
heated debate ensued. Hanna and Elsie wanted to catch a glimpse of the pirates
and refused to bolt the door. Scared witless, Katie and Marianna not only
wanted to bolt the door but also insisted on securing their trunks against it.

Captain
Forester felt an impotent fury as he watched Justin Phillips reunited with his
men on board the
Defiant.
Like his two ships, the young man had a
startlingly bold and commanding presence and seemed unexplainably unaffected by
his long days of confinement. Standing in the rain and conferring with his men,
Justin Phillips ranked easily among the tallest of men and his muscled frame,
clad only in white breeches, a torn canvas vest, and black boots, spoke of
unleashed power. The captain watched as Justin swung into action, first
leveling orders at his own men, then securing a pistol and a dagger to his belt
as he turned and approached.