The Pirate's Jewel (5 page)

“Hmm. Must have been hard for you to see her. She looks
like Bellamy, don’t you think?”

Nolan was trying not to think of how she looked at all. It
was better when he remembered her as a child, when his adolescent admiration
had sparked nothing more than images of long, stolen glances and heated moments
holding hands. Now she was a woman who might or might not be experienced. If
her flirtatious handling of the British officer didn’t convince him, the way she’d
challenged Nolan while looking directly into his eyes made him think so.
Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to diminish his attraction. After five years of
marriage-minded society virgins, a woman who knew what a man was about had become
fresh and enticing all over again. “She favors her mother.”

Wayland rubbed his chin. “The eyes. Surely you saw him in
the eyes. That’s an unusual shade of green.”

“Bellamy was a monster. All I saw in his eyes were greed
and death.”

Wayland made the sign of the cross, an act that seemed
superstitious rather than pious. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, lad.” He raised
his hands in surrender. “Though I ain’t harboring no ill will against you.
Can’t be two cocks in the ring without trouble.”

Nolan rubbed his forehead. The pungent flavor of the past
was as strong as the day he’d left Nassau. Hiding out for years hadn’t softened
it at all. “If you want to join me, you have to follow my rules. No more talk
of Bellamy or piracy. Those days are gone. I’m going to be a privateer, and my
loyalty is to the colonies.”

“I’ll join you. But I won’t lie to you. My loyalty lies with
finding the treasure—and I want my share. I’ll follow your orders ’cause you’re
the captain, but I’ll leave the moralizing to you, Nolan.”

Nolan wasn’t sure if he had won or lost the confrontation.
He really had no choice. He couldn’t leave Wayland in Charles Town now that the
man knew about Jewel. Besides, Wayland was the finest carpenter he had ever
known. In battle, his young recruit would be useless. Wayland had experience
and knowledge. And, on board the
Integrity
, Nolan could keep him under
his thumb. It was always better to keep your enemies close.

He downed the rest of his ale and stood. “I expect you
aboard the
Integrity
at dawn. Do you want to come with me now, or will I
see you in the morning?”

Wayland winked. “You’ll see me in the morning. I have a
few goodbyes to say, if you know what I mean.”

Nolan put on his gloves. “I’ll talk to Jewel again and try
to get the map from her before we leave. I’ll approach her differently this
time.” Not that he knew what his approach would be, but he had to have the map.
He no longer had the luxury of waiting Jewel out. For the second time in their
acquaintance, her life was at stake and only Nolan could protect her.

Wayland tilted his head, studying him. “Got a soft spot
for Bellamy’s chit, do you?”

Nolan wished. A soft spot would be a lot easier to handle.
“I have to get the map, don’t I?” He grabbed his coat and punched his arm into
the sleeve, acutely aware of Wayland’s scrutiny.

“Aye. And I bet you know just how to get the map, don’t
you, Nolan? You always had a way with the ladies.” The pirate downed his ale
and signaled the barmaid for another.

“Things have changed.”

Wayland grinned. “But you haven’t.”

Nolan turned and walked away. Let Wayland think what he
wanted. Maybe he would get so drunk he’d forget about their little visit.

Not bloody likely.

Nolan secured the skiff and hauled himself up the rope ladder
dangling near the water. “Mr. Tyrell,” he shouted as he cleared the railing.
“Raise anchor. We’re setting sail within the half hour. There’s a press gang on
shore.”

They had no choice but to leave without the map. He had
not set a single foot upon Queen Street’s cobblestoned surface before he’d
turned back at the sight of three marines dragging a man toward the wharf. No doubt
that was what the British visit to the Quail and Queen had been about yesterday.
They’d been searching for deserters, as well as men to take the place of any missing
crew members who weren’t located. It was not an uncommon occurrence.

Unfortunately, Nolan’s anchorage wasn’t remote enough to
spare him from being included in such a search. He couldn’t chance being
discovered with a vessel outfitted for war instead of trade. Until he had a
letter of marque, his vessel could cause him to be charged with treason or
piracy.

Nolan tugged on the lines that lifted the skiff out of the
water. He didn’t turn to locate his eager lieutenant. Parker Tyrell had a knack
of gravitating to him.

“That’s illegal. How can they do that?” the man’s voice
said behind him.

With the help of the block and tackle, the skiff reached
the ship’s railing in a few yanks. Parker helped Nolan haul the small boat over
the side.

“They’re doing it. I don’t imagine it’s too hard to find a
Tory magistrate to back their press warrants.”

“It’s war, then. The press is only legal during war.”

Nolan hoped he had learned to hide his emotions better
than Parker. They were not but a handful of years apart in age, but he felt
ancient in his former pupil’s presence.

“I don’t know if it’s war, but I want to get the hell out
of here before I find out from a British press gang. Take a deep breath,
Lieutenant. We have a long road ahead of us.”

Parker pushed back the heavy strand of blond hair that had
come loose from his perfect queue and straightened his already straight coat.
What the man lacked in experience, he made up in enthusiasm. His painfully neat
appearance and boyishly pretty face always reassured Nolan. No one would ever
mistake him for a pirate.

“Aye, Captain. I’ll ready the ship to sail.” Parker had to
sidestep Wayland to go about his duties. Wayland held his ground while Parker
deviated from his path. The telling moment confirmed Nolan’s fears. Wayland fit
with the
Integrity
's crew as well as Blackbeard’s ghost would fit at one
of Nolan’s father’s Sunday services, severed head in hand.

“I know fifty men with more experience than that whelp,”
the pirate said, strolling toward Nolan with his hands in his pockets. He had
not taken any of Nolan’s suggestions to tie back his long stringy hair, remove
his earring or wear an eye patch. Even though a black patch conjured up visions
of pirates, it was better than the alternative. A hollow eye socket was better
than the alternative.

“I imagine all the men you know are either British deserters,
pirates or both. Parker’s not as young as he looks. He’s also honest.”

Nolan strode to the navigator’s station, hoping Wayland
wouldn’t follow. Without a master sailor, Nolan had to do the navigation
himself—another skill obtained from Bellamy. His old mentor had created a
wonderful captain in Nolan, but an awful man. Nolan had spent the last five
years of his life correcting the damage.

When he reached the small cabin used for navigation situated
on the main deck, Wayland squeezed in behind him. Nolan unfurled a large map,
smoothing out the wrinkles with the palm of his hand. He picked up a set of
dividers, marking the fastest route back to Boston.

“You haven’t lost your touch, Nolan. A born sailor you
are. That lieutenant of yours isn’t much younger than you, but he doesn’t have
near what you have. And honesty won’t keep us from getting killed, lad.”

Nolan concentrated on his calculations, ignoring the pirate.
The discipline gained in his theological studies these past years had enhanced
his navigational skills rather than leaving them rusty. And his stint as
schoolmaster had given him much-needed patience, something he’d require to deal
with Wayland now without losing his temper. Nolan’s father had been
disappointed when Nolan returned from the university with his ministerial degree
in hand yet not eager to follow in his footsteps and be ordained, but
establishing a school for those of the merchant class who desired higher education
for their sons and couldn’t afford a private tutor mollified him somewhat. He’d
even stopped commenting on Nolan’s occasional visits to the harbor to gaze
longingly at the ships.

“You’re welcome to leave if you don’t approve of my crew,”
he said to Wayland in his calm yet stern schoolmaster voice.

“No, lad, I wouldn’t leave you. It’s plain to me you need
more help than I expected.” The old pirate slapped Nolan on the back, hard. His
gaunt frame belied his strength. “So, did you get the map?”

Nolan straightened. “No. The British were swarming the
docks, picking up anyone they could find to impress. I thought it best we
leave—for now.” Besides, this would give Jewel time to realize he wouldn’t be
swayed into taking her with him. Though he hated to leave her at the mercy of
the life she’d been handed, and though he feared his defense of her had only
encouraged the British officer to be more aggressive the next time he saw her,
she seemed to be able to handle herself well enough. Nolan was the one who’d
almost ignited the situation by not maintaining a cool head. She’d sent him packing
without the thing he’d come for.

Wayland rubbed his gray, stubbled chin. “Maybe I should
talk to the chit.”

The pencil in Nolan’s hand snapped. “Stay away from her.”

Wayland held up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know it
was like that between you two. I just planned to talk to her, not purchase her
services.”

“What do you know about Bellamy’s daughter?” Nolan braced
himself for the worst. He’d not wanted to think the British officer had reason
to proposition her so openly. Thinking she was available to all of Charles Town
startled Nolan with a surge of violence.

“Calm down, boy. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t know
nothing but what you told me. I haven’t been in Charles Town near a fortnight
myself.”

“Then don’t spread malicious gossip that will cause the
girl harm. She’s not safe with the map as it is.”

Wayland laughed. “My lips are as tight as a dead man’s grip.
Always have been, so don’t go accusing me of causing the girl trouble. I’m not
the one who—”

Nolan slammed his finger in the drawer as he stowed his
instruments. “Damn!”

Wayland crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against
the curved planks of the cabin. “I can see you’re upset about not getting the
map. Sounds like Bellamy’s girl’s a little tougher than you expected. Instead
of treating her like a pampered miss, we should send someone with a little
backbone. I met this fella in an alley off Bay Street—”

“If you breathe a word about her to anyone, I promise I’ll
gut you.” Nolan took a step around the desk to shake Wayland in the event the
man thought it an idle threat. Wayland’s knowing smirk stopped him. Nolan
unballed the fist he hadn’t realized he’d readied and calmly returned to the
task of rolling up his map. How easily he’d reverted to his old ways made his
hands shake. “I don’t want her hurt. A soon as I get the map from her—and I
will, once she realizes her options are limited—I’m going to move her to Boston
so she can start a new life.” He hadn’t intended to bring Jewel to his mother
and her entourage of Presbyterian matrons, but the idea seemed the only way to
guarantee her safety.

He turned to leave, but Wayland blocked the door. He had a
grin on his face Nolan didn’t like.

“I think that’s real gentlemanly of you, the way you’re taking
such care with the chit. But I warn you, I think she might have some of her
sire in her. It might take more than a little coin to get the map.”

Pushing past Wayland would be effortless, but Nolan wasn’t
about to start physically bullying his crew. He didn’t have to. His authority
came from respect, honor, and a common goal. Yet those things had no meaning for
John Wayland. Maybe that was why Nolan had the strong desire to wipe the smirk
off the pirate’s face with something he did understand—violence.

Yet the man was right. Jewel wanted more than money. Not
unlike other women her age, she aimed to boost herself from her circumstances.
Of course, in Jewel’s case, an honorable proposition wasn’t likely, even if she
did claim to have a suitor. She’d apparently shunned the idea of marriage for
another romantic delusion regarding buried treasures and pirates. Though Nolan
could understand the misconception easily enough—he’d been snared in the same
way when he’d first found his grandfather’s map—he’d not let Jewel be devastated
by her own illusions. And the surest way to accomplish that was to take the map
from her once and for all. Not that she’d thank him for it.

He jerked his head up, reminding himself a second time
that he didn’t want her gratitude. Wayland propped himself against the closed
portal, apparently enraptured with the sight of his turmoil. Unable to tolerate
the mangled pirate’s knowing smirk, Nolan shoved past him to escape the small
cabin and his own thoughts. He took a deep breath when he reached the main deck.
The sound of sails rippling in the wind invigorated him. A breeze lifted his
hair and cooled the back of his neck. He tamped down his temper, but the effect
was short-lived.

Wayland dogged his heels. “Hey, lad, if you show the girl
what you’re made of, you’ll get her where you want her. Young girls like a firm
hand.” He winked, as if Nolan didn’t immediately get a clear picture of his meaning.

“Mr. Wayland, you will address me as Captain Kenton. If
you want me to show you what I’m made of, I’ll be glad to keelhaul you once
we’re at sea. Right now we’re all rather busy.” Nolan gritted his teeth. “See
to your duties.”

“Aye, Captain—but I suspect you’re going to have your
hands full once we set sail.”

Nolan didn’t stop Wayland when the man strolled to the bow
and found a comfortable position to sun himself instead of helping haul up
sails. Though many of his crew were inexperienced seamen, a trait Nolan had
overlooked, he would rather perform the physical labor himself than tolerate
the pirate’s presence. Teaching his eager crew all they needed to know would be
easier than finding experienced seamen who’d never given in to the lure of
smuggling or piracy at least once or twice. Not that it wasn’t possible, just
not probable.