Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (24 page)

"Ye think the cap'n and me was born yesterday?" the bos'n demanded with a
contemptuous
snort. "On the cap'n's orders, I've already sent out a huntin' party. We'll be dinin' on roast pig and pigeon tonight or I'm not the
Madrigal's
bos'n for long. And since ye've got time on yer hands, mate, ye might as well get busy, or ye just might find yerself eatin' pickled mushrooms and sour biscuit."

Valentine Whitelaw watched as his men rowed the boat back to the ship, where they would unload it of its cargo, and then return to shore with the necessary supplies for their stay on the island. At first light tomorrow they would begin to salvage what they could from the wreck.

That night a large bonfire
illumined
the sands of the bay. The crew of the
Madrigal
dined like kings on roast pig and pigeon pie flavored with onions and potatoes, and fresh fruit. Plenty of ale from the ship's stores washed it all down. A chorus of loud belches following the evening's meal was satisfaction enough for the cook. A sailor brought out a hornpipe and began a lively tune. Several of the men partnered each other and started to dance a jig around the fire, while others were content to sit and watch, their voices raised in song and laughter that drifted through the balmy, smoke-filled night air.

The
Madrigal's
captain sat slightly apart. His mood varied from moment to moment as his thoughts lingered on what had happened on this island where Basil had lived out the last days of his life. Once before, he'd had to accept Basil's death, but it was harder this time. Valentine ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief at how cruel fate was. How many times during the last few years had the
Madrigal
sailed these very waters and how close he had been to recuing Basil if only he had known, Valentine remembered. If Joshua Randall had
returned
home to England sooner, how different the future would have been. Valentine glanced down at the sleeping child curled up on a blanket next to him. He touched her smooth brow. She was so innocent. What would happen to her when they returned to England? And the others, what was to become of them? Was the boy also Basil's son? It seemed likely that he was. And Geoffrey's daughter, Lily, she had no family to return to in England. Valentine stared into the darkness, thinking of those back home who would be wondering what he had found on this island.

He felt the warm trades against his face as the winds rustled through the palms. He could smell the sea and hear the waves lapping gently against the shore. The stars were bright in the black sky above. Sweet water bubbled from a spring and fish and fowl were abundant. Realizing they would spend the rest of their lives on this island, Basil and
Magdalena
would have accepted their fate and eventually found happiness. As grief for what had been lost passed, would it have been so very hard to find happiness here?

Valentine pulled the blanket over Dulcie's small shoulders. She had cried when no one had answered her calls. Later, she had sat quietly by the fire and eaten her meal, but her eyes had never strayed from the concealing darkness of the forest, where they both knew Lily and Tristram must be watching from the safety of their hiding place. Valentine stared in distaste at the length of rope he had tied around his wrist before securing the other end to Dulcie's waist. He couldn't let her loose; D
u
lcie was his only hope of catching the other children.

And he
would
not leave this island without them safely aboard the
Madrigal
, he vowed as his gaze raked the forest and he heard again the jaguar's cry. The first time it had sounded, it had brought an
u
neasy silence to the camp. The men who had been dancing and
laughing
had
suddenly
stilled. Almost breathlessly, they had waited to hear that inhuman scream come again. When it came, it was accompanied by t
he agonized death cries of the ju
ngle cat's prey.

Valentine stared down at the peacefully sleeping child. He had not believed her story of a
tigre
prowling the jungle, thinking it no more than a tale of childish
imagination
. But Dulcie had not lied. And with good reason, she should be afraid of the jaguar. Valentine thought of the other two out there in the dark with the big cat and he cursed beneath his breath in frustration, knowing he could do nothin until dawn.

"I think he sees us, Lily," Tristram whispered, closing his eyes even though he and Lily were well hidden in the darkness and the denseness of the tall grasses they had crawled through until stopping just short of the beach.

"He can't see us," Lily reassured him, although she had to admit that the man who had called himself Valentine Whitelaw and claimed to be Basil's brother had seemed to be looking directly at them. "Don't move, Tristram," she added, feeling him shaking beside her. "This one just might be able to see in the dark."

"Do you really believe he's Basil's brother, Lily?"

Lily bit her trembling lip, uncertain what to do. If only Basil were here to advise her, she thought, quickly wiping away a tear as she glared at the shadowy figures on the beach.

"If he is, Lily, we should go to him like he says," Tristram decided, thinking the man knew an awful lot about them.

"He could have learned all of that from Dulcie. You know she can't keep a secret. He looks like a rogue who could charm the devil himself," Lily predicted, quoting one of Basil's favorite phrases.

"He's English, Lily," Tristram reminded her.

"Have you forgotten the way his men raided our hut? What do you think they'd do if they knew about our cave? I only hope Dulcie doesn't say anything about it to him. He must never know about our treasure. Basil warned us not to say anything. It is our secret, Tristram. They're no different from pirates. And don't forget, he kidnapped Dulcie. I bet he suspects there is more treasure, and he's holding Dulcie for ransom. All pirates are greedy. That is why I think our plan will work."

"I don't think he's hurt her. I even heard her giggling, Lily. Do you think she likes being with them?"

"Dulcie is too young to know what she likes. We have to decide that for her. I know what is best, Tristram," Lily said slowly, not certain herself what she was feeling. "That is why I think we are doing the right thing." She tried to work as quickly as she could without making too much noise, but it was hard to see what was doing in the dark. "I've been thinking, Tristram, that once we get Dulcie back we should hide until they leave. I really do not think it would be a very god idea to be rescued. Even if he is Basil's brother."

"What?" Tristram demanded, forgetting to speak softly.

"Sssshhh!" Lily warned him, giving him a pinch for good measure.

"Ouch! Why did you do that, Lily?"

"Sssshhh!
Listen
. Do you want to go to England?"

"Of course I do. Basil always said we would return there one day."

"Basil and Mother are here, Tristram. They will not be in England. It was different when they were alive. We would all go to England and live together at Whiteswood," Lily told him, oblivious to what Basil's wife, Elspeth, and their son might think about such an arrangement. "Everything has changed now, Tristram. You and Dulcie were born here. I can't even remember Highcross Court. What is there for us in England?" Lily demanded, frightened more than she had ever been of the unknown; and England was the unknown.

"I never thought of that, Lily," Tristram said, worried now.

" 'Tis a cold country. You'd have to wear shoes all of the time. And hose."

Tristram's mouth dropped open in dismay at such a thing.

"They might even try to take Dulcie away from us, Tristram," she added.
"He's
already separated
u
s."

"No! Dulcie? Why?"

"Because Dulcie is Basil's daughter. If he's really a Whitelaw, then he and Dulcie are of the same blood. We aren't, Tristram. What does he care for us? He'll try to take Dulcie away when we get to England. She'll have to live with the rest of the Whitelaws."

"Can't we live there too?"

"No. We will have to live at Highcross Court. 'Tis yours now, Tristram. You are master of Highcross. I think we've a cousin in England. But I don't think Mother and Father liked him very much. That doesn't matter, though, because I could take care of us if we had to return to England. Highcross is ours. We could live there. Live off the land like we do here. At least when there isn't snow on the ground," she added in an innocent-sounding voice.

"I don't want to go to England."

Lily smiled, patting Tristram on the shoulder. "I'm glad you feel that way, Tristram."

"And he can't make me go, either," Tristram said truculently,, then added hesitantly, "What are we going to do if he doesn't agree to our terms, Lily?"

Her work completed, Lily squatted down and stared at the beach, where the glow from the fire was flickering
across
the sands. "First, we'll go back to the cave. We'll stay there until just before dawn. Then we'll come back."

Tristram sniffed appreciatively of the aroma of smoked pork drifting through the night air. "That
sure
smells good. I'm hungry, Lily."

"We can get some fruit on our way to the cave."

Tristram sighed, wishing this Valentine Whitelaw had caught him instead of Dulcie; then
he'd
be sitting by the fire
eating
roast pig.

"Are you certain we're doing the right thing, Lily? Don't you think Basil would wish us to say hello to his brother?" Tristram questioned as he began to crawl after Lily and away
from
the beach. "Maybe we could call to him from the trees. At least we could talk to him."

"Basil wanted us to be safe. But he always intended for us to be together. I don't think we would if we left the island, Tris."

They were about halfway to the first row of pines when a ferocious cry sounded nearby. Lily and Tristram paused, realizing that Choco was prowling closer than before. The strange noises from the beach had drawn his curiosity. He must be somewhere in the tall grasses. The scream sounded again, but even closer this time. Tristram froze, his heart pounding.

Choco was too close. Lily could feel his eyes watching them as they moved slowly through the high grass. Lily tried not to be frightened, but they were downwind of Choco, and the night air was full of strange odors, he might not recognize their scent. They had always stayed inside the hut at night, when Choco stalked his prey. She knew he wouldn't hurt them, but what if he attacked them before he realized who they were?

"Come on, Tristram," Lily whispered hoarsely, determined to reach the trees. "Hurry." She grabbed hold of his hand and forced Tristram to move faster with little regard now for stealth.

There was a blinding flash of light, before the deafening roar sounded around him. Lily threw herself to the ground, Tristram falling on top of her. Lily could smell a different kind of smoke in the air. It brought back vivid memories of another time when she had been at her father's side and smoke had burned her eyes. That had been the last time she had ever seen him.

"You damned fool!"

"I think I got him!"

"You don't even know what you fired at. You could have hit anything in the dark. Those children could have been out there," Valentine said, glancing down at the sleeping child he held in his arms.

"It was the cat, Whitelaw!" O'Hara exclaimed excitedly. "You heard him yourself. I saw something moving out there. 'Tis mine! I'm going to have it hanging for all to see in the hall of my house in Dublin. A jaguar! If I don't sell the skin for a fortune, I might even line my cloak with it," O'Hara boasted.

"If you shoot that pistol one more time, I'll have your hide displayed for all London to see," Valentine warned, cursing the darkness that kept him from seeing if O'Hara had managed to hit anything. If he hadn't, then he'd certainly frightened away anything that might have been hiding in the grasses.

"Stick 'is 'ead on London gate," one of the crew murmured, hoping the Irishman would be fool enough to fire again, for he'd like to see the captain knock the wind out of his bloated sails.

"You're jealous. All of you!" O'Hara charged, glancing around at the unfriendly faces. "You're mad because I reacted faster than any of you. I wonder if you'd be feelin' the same if the cat had taken a bite out of one of you hearties while you were in the grasses mindin' your own
business.
Well, just wait 'til mornin'. Then you'll be seein' that Liam O'Hara didn't miss the mark," he promised angrily before stomping back to the fire, not overly eager to explore the tall grasses where a wounded animal might be lying in wait until morning
-
-when hopefully, if the creature still lived, he would certainly be dead.

" 'Ope 'e didn't just wing it. Then it'll be comin' back lookin' fer the Irishman's blood."