Till Dawn Tames the Night (28 page)

"I cannot believe I almost invited you to my cabin for tea! I cannot believe it!" With that outburst, she abruptly turned away and stared past the driver toward the mansion on the hill.

"Oh, will you give that up?" Isaac retorted, annoyance heavy in his voice.

"I will not! It was the most stupid thing I've ever done in a life full of stupid things! I'll never
ever
forgive myself for it! I, Mrs. Stefan Lindstrom of St. George's and London, almost invited a
pirate
into my cabin for tea!"

"To begin with," he answered nastily, "I'm not a pirate, and I'm getting jolly tired of explaining that. While you may not believe it, I'm a sea captain, I have always been a sea captain, and I intend to stay a sea captain!" When he had calmed himself, he said, "And another thing. I have never seen a woman so lacking in sense as
yourself
. Why, my own Rachel was half your age when she died, and she possessed more sense. People chastise themselves for what they
have
done, or what they
should
have done. But not for what they
might have done\"
With that off his chest, he hunched down into the seat and stared at the flattened calash of the carriage until they arrived.

The governor's mansion was a huge stuccoed palace to rival Marco Polo's description of
Xanadu
.
Chinoiserie
was everywhere, from the red faux bamboo chairs to the black lacquered
Weisweiler
commodes. In the porte-cochere fantastic birds were painted flying across the wallpaper while such exotica as Chinese export porcelain and English pastiches were displayed on fretwork pedestals. The predominant colors were scarlet and purple; the enormous pier mirrors reflected them incessantly, and also the astonishing narcissism of their owner.

Governor
Ignatio
Roberto Aquila Lopez stood in the entrance to the drawing room, his hand fondling the hilt of an ancient Toledo sword. When he saw his visitors, he gave his black mustache a little swipe and nodded in greeting. A battalion of slaves in canary yellow livery soon appeared and Flossie and Isaac were shown into the drawing room. Refreshments were served while a young turbaned boy fanned them with palm leaves.

The governor was the first to speak. His blunt manner was only surpassed by his obvious insanity.

"You know, of course, Captain, that my fondest wish is to run Vashon through with my sword until he bleeds to death at my feet. Now"—the Spaniard sat down and looked as if he were just about to win at faro—"what can I do to make that possible?"

Flossie choked on her tea, obviously unaware before now of the Spaniard's mental affliction.

"Well . . ." Isaac rubbed his eyes and feigned a casual assessment. He didn't seem surprised at all by the governor's irrational words. "I'm not sure,
Ignatio
. Vashon owns my ship. If something were to happen to him, I wouldn't have—"

Ignatio
waved his hand. "Ships—ships—I can give you ships. Is that all?"

Isaac sipped his rum and grew thoughtful. "A ship would be nice, I suppose."

"Would you like a woman? There are three here on the island I like. I'll let you have one. And they're nice big women, you understand, Captain?" The Spaniard cupped his hands in a crude gesture.

"I beg your pardon!" At once Flossie stood up. She glared at the Spaniard,
then
turned her furious gaze on Isaac.

"What kind of man are you to sell your friends in this manner?" she exclaimed. "I don't understand any of this. For what he's done to me, I've no great regard for Vashon, but before I'd see him run through for his crimes, I'd have him receive a trial.
At the very least!"

"Who is this woman?"
Ignatio
stood up. "Is she your wife?"

"Good God, no!"
Isaac burst out.

Angrily Flossie faced
Ignatio
. He was so short she could look him straight in the eye. "You are a vile little toad of a man, sir, to say the things you have in my company."

"Captain."
Ignatio
turned back to Isaac. "I ask you again, who is this woman? I shall have her executed for speaking to me in this manner."

Concern flashed across Isaac's face. Disbelief registered on Flossie's. Isaac stood slowly as if he weren't sure how to contain the damage. "Governor, she's not aware of what she's saying—"

"Oh, yes, indeed, I am very much aware of what I'm saying," she insisted. Continuing her harangue as if she thought she'd simply misunderstood the governor, she said, "In fact, I'm so much aware of what I'm saying that I declare you both to be a couple of curs without the good breeding to watch your tongues in my presence. I demand to be taken back to the ship. If I'm to be kidnapped and held captive, you cannot expect me to endure this wretched company, too."

"I'll have that woman's head in my hands this very evening!" Infuriated,
Ignatio
shook his fist at Flossie. Her jaw slackened in shock. It was suddenly clear that she'd understood the little madman all along. And now she'd only provoked him further. Her hand moved to her neck in an unconscious protective gesture.

Isaac moved between them, anxiety etched in his face. "Governor, I shall have an apology for you. If you will allow me a word with Mrs. Lindstrom, I'll show her the error of her ways."

Ignatio
fumed; his little black mustache, which hid so well the syphilitic sores around his lip, twitched. He didn't appear as if he wanted to go along, but finally, he nodded his head.

Smiling at the governor, Isaac pulled Flossie aside and exploded in fierce whispers. "Do you know what you've done, woman? Do you want to die? Is that it? Have you no sense whatsoever?"

Flossie shot the governor a disbelieving look. "That vile little man is out of his mind. I demand to be taken back to the ship." She opened a glittering black fan that was secured to her wrist and furiously fanned
herself
.

"Of course he is! I
know
that! And he has the power to do whatever he wishes. This is his island, remember? I swear I won't rescue you from the chopping block if your mouth puts you there!"

Flossie eyed Isaac distastefully. "Are there
no
gentlemen on this island?"

"Gentlemen?
Gentlemen?"
Isaac whispered, his voice rising in hysteria. "How can there be gentlemen when those flapping lips of yours are a constant source of irritation? I'm telling you once, shut them, or I'll shut them for you!"

Abruptly Flossie closed the fan. She gave Isaac her most vicious stare yet.
"My husband,
the dear saint that he was, would never have spoken to me like that. You are a villain, sir, plain and simple. You bring me to this madman's lair,
then
you insult me with your rude talk. As for those 'flapping lips,' just let me say that they will go on 'flapping' until you set Aurora and me free."

"We'll see about that. You'll be quiet if I have to make you be quiet!"

"And how do you propose to do that? You can kidnap me, you can imprison me, you can torture me, but as Louis Seize so quickly found out, you cannot keep the people silent!"

"Oh, but I have a way to keep you silent!"

"And what way is that, sir?" she asked sarcastically, not a bit intimidated.

"The way men have been keeping women silent for centuries, that's how!"

"Well then, do it! This should be quite a lesson!"

"I'll give you a lesson, all right!" Isaac moved to Flossie. Her chin jutted out, just daring him to strike her, but instead he did something altogether different. She was so surprised she couldn't even defend herself when he took her in his arms. In confusion she stared up at him, wide-eyed, until he kissed her so soundly he nearly gave her a heart attack.

When they finally parted, Flossie stood frozen to the ground, unable to even blink. Isaac looked a bit sheepish, as if, perhaps, he thought he might have gone too far, but then he mumbled testily, "Ah, at last, blessed silence," and went to seat himself once more on the governor's red satin sofa.

The governor clapped and pounded the captain on the back as if he'd been a toreador at a victorious bullfight. Flossie just stared at Isaac as if he, too, had gone out of his mind. She didn't even flinch when one of the liveried slaves entered the room and announced dinner.

In absolute silence they arrived at a banqueting room as palatial as the one in Brighton. No cost had been spared; El Greco's ascetic
Church of San Tome
hung on the wall while ironically the windows, the floor, the table, were draped in a gaudy cerise-colored satin.
Ignatio
had already been seated at the head of the twenty-five-foot table, and he gave Flossie a belligerent glare. Isaac looked ill.

"May we continue, Captain,
without interruption?"
Ignatio
glanced murderously at Flossie, but she was too busy staring dumbfounded at Isaac.

"Yes, yes." Isaac hastily sat.

"I want Vashon. What is his price?"

"First we must have our water."

"You'll* get your water. When can I have Vashon?"

Isaac was just about to evade him again when one of the governor's guards burst into the room. The man was sweating and he wore several lengths of lacerated rope around his wrists. Agitated, he spoke in rapid Spanish, gesturing to his head where he'd obviously been hit. Over and over again, he repeated,
"El
Draque
! El
Draque
!"

Ignatio
jumped to his feet. He exchanged words with the guard,
then
rushed out of the room. When he was gone, Isaac left his seat and pulled Flossie out of hers.

"Where are we going?" she cried out, trying to pull her hand from his.

"Back to the ship.
Immediately!"
Isaac rushed her out the door.

"But why?
What has happened?"

Isaac turned grim. "Didn't you hear the man say,
'El
Draque
'!
That can only mean one thing. They've found Vashon!"

Aurora didn't remember the road back to New Providence as being so dark. Of course, when she'd been on the road before, she'd done her best to pretend being in a faint, but her few glances then at the scenery had left her with not nearly so ominous a feeling as the one she had now.

She studied Vashon as she rode with him on his horse. He was furious. Gone were the gentle arms that had held her. Instead his grip was like bands of leather, tightening and tightening around her, until she wondered when they would stop her breath. His chest was a slab of granite against her back and his thighs slammed ruthlessly against her derriere as they rode. She had no idea what he would do once they returned to the
Seabravery,
and she dreaded even speculating about it. He didn't say another word. He didn't have to.

Though she had sworn to fight him, she had no choice but to go back with him. He had won another battle, but she vowed the war would continue, this time in town where she swore she would find a way to escape before he could drag her up the
Seabravery'%
gangplank.

"And what little schemes are simmering in that head now?" He bent his head and nipped the fleshy lobe of her ear. It should have been a playful gesture, but in his anger, his teeth almost hurt her. Chastised, she stiffened, denying the tingle that traitorously slid down her spine.

"How do you plan to get back to the ship undetected?" Her manner and voice were as cool as she could make them. She looked ahead and in the distance saw a line of glittering red fires, burning cane. Neville and his revolutionaries had been busy that night. She recalled reading once about the slave revolts in the Caribbean. She was certain if the governor wasn't careful, Grand
Talimen
would have a revolt to parallel Haiti's, and he would find his head on a stake being paraded around New Providence.

All at once Vashon pulled up his horse. He sat absolutely still and looked straight ahead. Lights flickered down the road from town. Before, she'd thought nothing of them, believing them to be the candlelight from the houses, but now she could see they were moving in a long, thin stream like ants.

"What is it?" she whispered, her fear blooming like nightshade.

"Torches.
It could be they're looking for the slaves who started the cane fires, but . . ."He backed the horse a few steps. "I don't want to take the chance." Abruptly he dismounted and took her from her perch on the pommel. He then slapped the horse's flanks and sent the animal, tail high, galloping down the road in the opposite direction.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, watching him as if he were out of his mind.

"Come," was all he said before he grabbed her hand and ran for the cover of the canebrake.

It seemed they ran for miles. The cane sliced at her gown and whipped at her flesh. Vashon never let up. He headed for town with the sure instinct of a bloodhound, guided only by the blue light of the moon.

When they got to the edge of town, they moved in the shadows. Every bit of ground was hard-won; there were guards everywhere, their satin livery shining in the iridescent moonlight like the sleek coats of rats. They could only be looking for Vashon. From their whispers, even the governor was out looking for him tonight.