Time After Time (206 page)

Her face lost all color and her body stiffened, but only for a moment. In a blink of an eye, she pushed Jemmy behind her then reached into the top of her boot and withdrew a wicked looking knife. The honed edge glinted in the sun.

Amazed, his heart hammering in his chest, Tristan drew his pistol without stopping his run across the sand, took aim, and pulled the trigger at the same time Cara flung the knife toward the animal.

The shot echoed within the small, protected cove, the sound bouncing off rock wall. Mrs. Beasley’s scream accompanied the panicked shouts of Dr. Trevelyan and Graham. Blood spurted where the bullet pierced the boar’s head and the pig squealed as the knife struck him between the eyes and buried itself halfway up to the hilt. The pig died instantly, yet the momentum of its breakneck speed kept the animal sliding in the sand before coming to rest a mere foot in front of Caralyn.

A wave of relief washed through Tristan with such force, his limbs weakened and his muscles had the consistency of water, but still he made it to where Caralyn and Jemmy stood. He dropped to his knees in front of them and gathered them both close to his heart. “Are you all right? You don’t know what I thought when I saw that boar coming straight for you.”

He pulled away and inspected them both. Even though the swine had died before it even came close to them, Tristan still had to check, still had to reassure himself. He ran his hands down Jemmy’s arms, which proved to be next to impossible. The boy squirmed with excitement, his face animated, his hands moving as fast has his mouth.

“Did you see it, Papa? Did you see what Miss Cara did with the knife? Did you?”

“Yes, I saw.” Torn between awe and relief, Tristan raised his eyes and met Caralyn’s. Hers were wide and brilliant blue—no guile, no fear, but no pleasure or pride, either.

“We’re all right,” she insisted and tilted her head when she spoke. She didn’t blink, didn’t turn away. “Truly. Just a little startled.”

Though Caralyn insisted, Tristan heard the slight tremor in her voice. Indeed, the quaver echoed in the quaking of her body—or perhaps it was his body which quivered. “Stitch should take a look at you both. Just to make sure.”

“It’s not necessary, Tristan.” She laid warm fingers on his arm and the tingle of her touch surged all the way to his rapidly beating heart. “The pig never came that close. We’re fine.” She lowered her voice. “Please, let’s just drop the subject. Neither Jemmy nor I are hurt. How could we be?”

He should listen to her and drop the subject, he knew, and yet, he couldn’t. Tristan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, but the simple action did nothing to ease his tension or the fear still raging through him. Caralyn didn’t understand how the thought of losing either one of them made his heart hurt. He glanced at his son, those big blue eyes wide and shiny, and realized Jemmy didn’t seem at all upset over the near miss with the swine. Indeed, the lad’s fascination over Caralyn’s knife throwing abilities surpassed any fear he might have harbored.

Before he could utter another word, Stitch and Mrs. Beasley joined them at the water’s edge, as did Graham, Socrates, and the rest of the small group. The good doctor did a very cursory examination while Mrs. Beasley expressed an opinion or two, which for once, coincided with his own. With no cuts or scrapes or bruises, both Caralyn and Jemmy were pronounced perfect.

As they walked back to the makeshift camp, Tristan placed Caralyn’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “Perhaps you should take Jemmy and Mrs. Beasley back to the
Adventurer
. It isn’t safe for you here. There may be more feral pigs.”

She stopped and removed her hand from his arm. Tristan stopped as well and watched the physical change come over her with something akin to awe. The way she straightened her spine, threw her shoulders back and raised her chin struck a chord deep within him. He saw determination in the ramrod stiffness of her back, fortitude in her relentless stare, and persistence in the solid line of her mouth.

“No, Captain, I will not go back to the ship. I’ve waited a lifetime to search for this treasure. Neither you nor a wild boar will stop me.”

“You realize, as captain, I can order you to return. Indeed, I can have you locked in your cabin for the entire journey. For your own good.”

The blueness of Caralyn’s eyes darkened until they became the color of a storm-tossed sea. Unshed tears shimmered in their depths. Her chin and lower lip quivered as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t be that cruel.”

No, he wouldn’t be that cruel. He couldn’t, not when she stood before him, unafraid and defiant and fighting back the threatening tears. The tricorn hat, tilted at a jaunty angle, and her attitude reminded him of Jemmy.

They stood not more than a foot apart, their eyes only on each other. The rest of the world could have disappeared. Tristan knew stubbornness, tenaciousness, and perseverance when he saw them and looking at her, right now, right this moment, he saw all those qualities. They were instilled as deeply in her as they were in himself.

He tilted his head slightly and silently admitted she’d won this battle. Caralyn accepted her win with grace.

Socrates came up along side them, dragging the dead boar, the muscles in his arms bulging. Sweat glistened on his brow. “He’s a big one, Captain.”

“Indeed, Mr. Callahan. Tonight, we feast.” Tristan grabbed both Caralyn and Jemmy by the hand and continued on to the small boats beside the fire-pit, right behind Socrates and their future dinner. “Mr. Jacoby, go back to the ship and bring the rest of the men. Ask for volunteers to stay with the
Adventurer
, but let them know they’ll not miss out on the fresh meat. Mac, please start a fire. Graham, Stitch, and I will finish putting up the tents. Socrates, I assume you’ll take care of preparing the meat until Hash arrives?”

Once the men rushed to follow his orders, he turned toward Caralyn. “I could use a bit of brandy. How about you?” He pulled the flask from the boat, untwisted the top, and handed it to her. Caralyn tipped the silver bottle, but only took a small sip, as if her nerves didn’t need steadying. She handed the flask back to him then started to walk away. “Where are you going? You should stay close to the boats, close to us.”

Caralyn said nothing although she did turn toward him, her smile as infectious as ever. She slipped her hand into Jemmy’s, as if daring Tristan to physically stop her. At the last moment, she changed direction and sat beside Mrs. Beasley on a blanket on the soft sand.

“She is the most stubborn, most inflexible—”

“Recognize yourself, do you?” Graham asked as he pulled another tent from the boat.

Tristan twisted to stare at his friend, saw the grin spreading Graham’s lips, then finally smiled himself. “I’m not at all stubborn.”

Graham cocked an eyebrow, smile still firmly in place, but only mumbled, “Of course. You don’t have a stubborn bone in your body. Right, Mr. Callahan?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Alcott. Not the captain. Ain’t no stubbornness here,” Socrates agreed.

“What are you talking about?” Stitch asked as he grabbed the sack Hash had so thoughtfully prepared.

Voice on the edge of laughter, Graham replied, “We were just commenting on the fact the captain doesn’t have a stubborn bone in his body.”

Stitch’s eyebrows shot upward and dimples appeared in his cheek as he grinned. “Indeed. I quite agree. Not one persistent, mulish, tenacious bone. For some, perseverance is an excellent trait. For others, that same quality just causes trouble.” The doctor’s gaze drifted toward the blanket.

Tristan ignored Stitch’s comments as well as Graham’s hearty chuckles. He glanced in Caralyn’s direction, not only to assure himself of her safety, but to catch another glimpse of her infectious smile. She and Jemmy were deep in conversation, the boy’s face set in a serious expression, his eyes only on her.

“I’ve never seen anyone handle a knife like that.” He didn’t even realize he’d said the words out loud or that they were filled with awe until Socrates grunted. Tristan faced him and finished his thought. “Who taught her?”

Socrates grinned as he pulled said knife out of the boar’s skull. “I did, many summers ago. We practiced day in and day out until she could hit the bullseye ten times out of ten. Very persistent, our Cara was. Still is from what I can see.” He wiped the blood from the blade through the thick hair on the carcass then flicked his thumb over the sharp edge. His grin still in place, he muttered, “You have my sympathy, Captain.”

Chapter 9

“What do you mean, we lost them?” Captain Entwhistle’s face turned a peculiar shade of mottled red as he raised his cold glare toward Porkchop. “Explain,” he bellowed.

Porkchop swallowed hard though his mouth had gone dry. He stood in front of the captain’s desk on legs that seemed like blocks of wood instead of flesh and bone, his stomach twisted in knots, bile burning the back of his throat. The crewman opened his mouth several times, but not a word would come forth. Sunlight seeped in through the windows of the captain’s cabin to warm the room but did nothing to dispel the icy fear that made Porkchop shiver.

In truth, he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t been the one keeping watch, hadn’t been the one to lose sight of the
Adventurer’s
white sails on the horizon. He
had
been the one to have the ill fortune of drawing the low card from the deck to decide which one of them would have the dreadful task of telling the captain the news. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Well?” The captain pushed out of his chair and rose to his full height. The chair toppled backward to crash into a small cabinet filled with porcelain and glass curios. Tinkling glass plinked to the floor, sounding like a broken music box. Entwhistle didn’t seem to notice. His icy stare never left Porkchop’s face. A muscle throbbed in the captain’s cheek as he leaned forward on his desk, the heat from his hands fogging the satiny finish of the desktop.

The fury in the captain’s eye, the tension in his body, made Porkchop back up a step, then two. He squeezed his buttock muscles tight, afraid the knot in his stomach would unravel and he’d soil himself right then and there.

“Speak, you bloody imbecile.”

Porkchop jumped. He hated to snitch on any of his crewmates despite how they treated him, but faced with Captain Entwhistle’s barely suppressed rage, he couldn’t help himself. “It were Petey,” he confessed in a rush. “Petey was watchin’, but he were jokin’ an’ carryin’ on like he al’ays does.”

Hands balled into fists, the redness of his face deepening, Captain Entwhistle said not a word as grabbed the cat o’ nine tails from the hook on the wall and slammed the door as he left the cabin.

Porkchop breathed a sigh of relief. He still stood. Still breathed. The captain hadn’t killed him. He didn’t want to witness what the captain would do to Petey, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. On tiptoe, he crept toward the door and cracked it open as the first lash of the cat o’ nine tails laid open the flesh on Petey’s back. The scream that followed made Porkchop wince and close his eyes.

With each crack of the whip, each subsequent scream, the crewman jumped—ten times in all before silence reigned once again. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Captain Entwhistle grab the spyglass from his mate’s hand. He held the device to his eye and scanned the horizon. As he lowered it, he drew in a deep breath. Mouth set in a grim line, he ordered, “Set a course for Jamaica.” He stepped closer to Petey. “Trey has friends on the island. You’d better pray he’ll visit them like he always does.”

While the crew of the
Explorer
rushed to change course, Porkchop left the safety of the captain’s cabin and rushed to help Petey. He untied the man’s hands from the main spar and gently laid him on the deck on his stomach.

“Don’ touch me, ye bloody whelp.” Petey managed to utter between clenched teeth. “Ye tol’ ’im it were me, din’t ye?” Blood spilled from the many gashes, and the shredded remains of Petey’s shirt, stained crimson, lay in tatters against the man’s back.

“Serves ye right, ye idjit. I got me enough scars on me back to be takin’ another whippin’ for ye. Now, jes’ hold still and I’ll fix ye right up.” He expelled his breath, thankful it hadn’t been him who’d received the lashes, thankful the captain had stopped at ten and not killed Petey. “We’ll be in Jamaica ’fore too long. Ye’ll be right as rain by then.”

• • •

From her spot on the blanket, Caralyn watched the men set up camp, her attention focused on Tristan. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal tanned, muscular forearms. Heat, humidity, and exertion caused perspiration to bead on his forehead and his thin shirt to stick to his back, which emphasized every rippling muscle as he worked. Truthfully, the sight did strange things to her insides, and a shiver worked its way from her head to her toes and back.

Before she knew it, three old canvas tents surrounded the fire pit, now cleaned of debris, all without her help. A coffee pot burbled on the grate over the crackling fire Mac had prepared. The last thing the men did was move several big logs to surround the fire-pit before they trudged toward the grouping of tumbled rocks at the bottom of the waterfall they’d passed on their way into the cove. The rocks formed several serene pools away from the force of the thundering water.

“May I join you?” Tristan stood at the edge of the blanket, blocking the rays of the sun. She hadn’t seen him come back as her attention had wandered to Jemmy and his fascination with a turtle. Caralyn shielded her eyes as she glanced up at him and her breath hitched in her chest.

Sunlight silhouetted his long, lean frame and reflected off the water droplets in his hair to create a halo of sorts. He looked like a Greek god standing before her. Again, a shiver raced from her head to her toes and back while a thousand butterflies danced in her stomach.

Tristan didn’t wait for her answer as he lowered himself to the blanket spread out on the sand. The rest of their small group, all freshly washed and sporting the same shimmering droplets, quickly joined him.