Читать книгу Pirate's Daughter, Rebel Wife - June Francis - Страница 9

‘You must ride into Machico, Joe, and bring Juanita here,’ said Harry, turning away from Bridget’s bedside. Two days had passed and he had hardly had a sensible word out of her. ‘The fever is getting worse. She needs a draught that is stronger than the one you mixed for her.

Joe gazed down at Bridget’s scarlet cheeks and twitching face. ‘She does look bad and she’s been muttering in her delirium.’

Harry shot a glance at him. ‘I know. She mentioned a Lady Elizabeth and pirates and then the rest was just a gabbled stream of nonsense. I want you back here with the widow before midday. I need to visit the cane fields and see how the harvest is progressing.’

Joe nodded and left the bedchamber.

Harry resumed his seat next to the bedside and tried to contain his worry. He must persuade Juanita to stay here at the house; only then would he feel some freedom from anxiety about the sick woman he suspected was Bridget McDonald. He could not afford to change his plans and needed to be on hand to supervise the loading of the sugar cane into the carts that would carry the cargo to his ship.

He gazed down at the shivering, restless figure; as he did so, she flung off the bedcovers and, muttering to someone to get away from her in Portuguese, attempted to get out of bed. Starting to his feet, he caught hold of her and could feel the heat emanating from her body. He lifted her back on to the bed and it was then that he noticed what looked like red pinpricks on her skin. His heart sank. Perhaps her fever was not the result of her soaking, but from that disease she had mentioned?

He considered the consequences if that was true and swore beneath his breath. Yet he had no choice but to accept that if whatever had caused the rash was infectious then it was too late for him to protect himself from its effects. He could only hope and pray that it was just a heat rash.

He left the bedchamber and returned shortly after with a cloth and a bowl of cold water. He soaked the cloth in water before wringing it out and wiping her face with it, bathing her eyes especially. Then he folded the cloth into a wet compress and placed it on her forehead. Carefully, he repeated this action and carried on doing so until she appeared less restless. When he touched her skin, although it still felt hot, it was not burning. Was the fever breaking? Or was she cooler due to his ministrations with the wet cloth? Perhaps it was both.

Suddenly her eyes opened and she stared up into his face. Her hand shot out and her fingers fastened on his wrist. ‘What have you done to me?’ she croaked. ‘Where is my father and Captain Black Harry?’

He stiffened. ‘What is your father’s name?’

‘Callum McDonald. Have you seen him here?’

‘No.’

Her eyes showed dismay.

Harry’s heart began to thud with heavy strokes. So his instincts had been right and she was Bridget McDonald, but it seemed she was expecting to find her father and him together. So was he right in thinking that Callum had never arrived in Scotland? It would do no good him asking her that question now. He prised her fingers from his wrist and said, ‘You have a fever, mistress. I have sent Joe to fetch a healer.’ He wrung out the cloth and placed it on her forehead once again.

‘I need help to find him. I cannot waste time lying here,’ she said fretfully. ‘I must find my father. Perhaps someone else has seen him.’

She made to push down the bedcovers, but Harry prevented her from doing so by placing his hands over hers. ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere right now,’ he said firmly. ‘Be patient. I will fetch you a drink.’

‘Where are my clothes?’ demanded Bridget. ‘I must find my father.’

He bit back the words that were crowding to be released and went downstairs. He went to the kitchen and made her a drink of wine and water and poured himself a measure of liquor. He decided he needed some fresh air and carried the drink and the flask outside. He sat on the terrace, moodily gazing out over the ocean glistening in the sunlight. He had survived hunger and thirst, battles and storms since last he had seen Bridget. He had been prepared to confront all these adversaries for himself, wanting adventure, as well as discovering new ways to increase his wealth, but he had refused her passage on his ship, determined that not only would she not have to face such dangers, but that her burgeoning beauty would not distract himself or the crew from the business in hand. Now she had come back into his life, bringing uncertainty and trouble.

Why was she searching for Callum here on Madeira? Who was this Lady Elizabeth she had spoken of in her delirium? On whose ship had she originally set sail before being captured and sold to a slaver?

He downed the drink in one gulp and refilled the cup. He stayed there for a while longer, thinking about the fragments of information he’d gleaned from Bridget so far. Then he went indoors, cut bread and spread it with honey and placed food and drink on a tray and carried it upstairs, hoping that she had recovered her composure and would be able to eat something.

As he reached the upstairs passage he heard a crash coming from the bedchamber and made haste. He was stunned by the sight that met his eyes. The small table had been knocked over and Bridget was writhing on the bed and babbling words he could not make out. He seized one of her hands and clasped it between his own. ‘Hush, woman, there is no need for such a commotion,’ he said gently. ‘You are safe.’

She stared at him, but he sensed she was not seeing him because she was still muttering to herself. He wondered if she had fallen asleep and was having a bad dream. She was defying someone, saying that she would not marry their son. Suddenly she went limp.

Harry took her in his arms and brought her against his chest and spoke soothingly, recalling words in Swedish that the grandmother of his friend Alex, the Baron Dalsland, had used to comfort him when he’d suffered from his recurring nightmares. He was ashamed by the memory because he had been a youth on the verge of early manhood at the time. He should not have given in to such weakness after he had survived three years on board a pirate ship. He’d finally escaped by sneaking off and concealing himself from his shipmates behind a pile of barrels in the Swedish port of Visby. It was Alex who had found him and taken Harry to his grandparents’ home. They had provided him with a roof over his head and fed him until his lean body filled out and grew strong. That first summer he and Alex had become like brothers and they were soon fluent in each other’s language. Alex’s grandfather, the old Baron, had a merchandising business and owned several ships. Harry had asked if he could work for him and the old man had put him under the tutelage of one of his finest captains. When the old Baron had died he had left Harry the Thor’s Hammer.

Harry stroked Bridget’s dark red hair, remembering how he had grieved for the old man. Suddenly he realised that the room had fallen silent. His patient had fallen asleep again. He waited several moments before placing her down on the bed and pulling up the covers over her. He decided to stay with her until she woke or Juanita arrived in case she should have any more bad dreams.

Bridget opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the man asleep in the chair by her bedside. His bearded chin was cupped in one hand and his elbow rested on a cushion on the arm of the chair. His thick dark lashes would have been the envy of many a woman, she thought, wondering how long he had been sitting there. He shifted suddenly and Bridget started nervously and, clearing her throat, asked, ‘Captain, are you awake? ‘

He yawned, revealing excellent teeth, and then his eyes opened and met her gaze. For an instant she felt as if drawn into the depths of those dark blue orbs and her heartbeat quickened. ‘I did not mean to go to sleep, but I’ve been keeping long hours lately,’ he said drily.

‘You mean because of me, Captain? I am grateful to you for your care.’ Her voice was husky and Harry found it extremely attractive, almost as seductive as her physical beauty. ‘I wish to leave as soon as possible. I need to find my father. My information is that he and Captain Black Harry were on this island.’

Harry wondered from whom she had had this information. ‘But you are ill. You cannot possibly leave,’ he said firmly.

‘I am feeling much better,’ she insisted.

He wondered if he should tell her that her face was covered in spots, but at that moment there came the sound of voices below. He asked her to excuse him and left the bedchamber.

Bridget gazed after him, wondering if it was the healer who had arrived. She was aware that the shirt she was wearing smelled of her perspiration due to her fever. Despite this she knew it to be a fine shirt of excellent quality, so her rescuer was a man of some wealth. At that moment she heard the sound of footsteps coming upstairs and along the passageway towards her. She decided to pretend to have fallen asleep again, thinking she might discover more about the man who had given her shelter that way.

‘I have seen this rash before,’ said Juanita in Portuguese, glancing over her shoulder at Harry. ‘It is a complaint suffered mainly by children and can sometimes kill, but the fever has broken and I have no doubt this woman will recover.’

‘How soon will she be fit to leave?’ asked Harry, taking coins from a pouch at his belt.

Juanita’s eyes fixed on the money. ‘Where would you have her go?’

‘She is seeking her father, a Callum McDonald, and she has heard that he has been seen on this island. As far as I am aware he has never set foot on Madeira, but I could be mistaken. I ask that you would keep your ears and eyes open in Machico. I will have a search made of Funchal, just in case he could have anchored there at any time this past year.’

Juanita stared at him from under grey, bristling brows. ‘You do that, Captain, but if her father is not here, what will you do with her then? She is young and no doubt beautiful when she does not have this rash, but she is also a foreigner. Surely you will not desert her?’

‘I have a cargo of sugar cane to get to Lisbon. She needs a woman to keep her company. If I were to leave her here in Madeira, will you stay with her? I will pay you,’ Harry offered.

Juanita shook her head and said firmly, ‘No, I wish to leave Madeira. I am getting old and I would return to my family home in Portugal. I still have kin there and would spend my last days with them.’

Harry frowned. ‘I understand, but would ask another favour of you. Have you heard aught of a slave–trader ship foundering anywhere off this coast or it may have anchored in Machico?’

‘I have heard nothing, but I will make enquiries for you.’

He thanked her and changed the subject. ‘Is there aught you can prescribe for her rash?’

The old woman fished in a capacious cloth bag and produced a phial. ‘You may give her three drops of this liquid if the rash itches her unbearably and keeps her awake.’

Harry took the phial and handed a coin over to Juanita. ‘When do you plan to leave for Portugal?’

‘When the signs are auspicious.’ She chuckled and patted his arm. ‘If you have need of me again, send Joseph to fetch me.’

‘I will bear in mind what you say.’ Harry glanced towards the bed as a thought occurred to him, but he remained silent and went downstairs. He called Joe to keep a watch over their patient and headed for the fields, knowing that he could not afford to change his plans to leave the island once the sugar–cane harvest was gathered in.

Bridget inspected the rash on her arms and frowned, turning over in her mind the conversation she’d overheard between the captain and Juanita. Unfortunately, she had not been able to understand every word spoken, but she felt certain that he had asked Juanita to make enquiries about her father and for that she was grateful. Hopefully he would also have a search made for the slave trader and his vessel. What if the slave trader was still alive and came looking for her? After all he had bought her. A chill ran down her spine. What was she to do if the captain were to sail for Lisbon, leaving her behind here on Madeira at the mercy of any unscrupulous person?

There was a knock on the door. ‘May I come in?’ asked Joe.

Bridget sighed. ‘Aye, please do.’

The lad entered the bedchamber, carrying a tray.

‘D’yer know that at one time me and the captain thought you might die, but here you are looking a whole load better despite your rash. The captain reckons it could be caused by the fever making you all hot.’ He beamed at her.

Bridget forced a smile, guessing why the captain had not been completely honest with Joe. She was also remembering that it was the lad who had put poppy juice in her drink the first day she was here. ‘I am much better so I do not need any potions, Joe,’ she said hastily.

‘All right. But the captain said you’re to eat this bread and cheese and then I’m to bring you a custard apple.’

‘Tell me about your captain?’ she asked.

Joe grinned. ‘He’s a hard man to please, but he’s fair. His ship is anchored in Machico harbour and he’s here to load and transport the bulk of Senhor Jorge’s sugar–cane harvest to a buyer in Lisbon. It’s the senhor who owns this house, but he’s gone off with a fleet of warships, led by the explorer Vasco da Gama. They’re going around the tip of Africa, hoping to find a swifter passage to the Indies. The captain intended going as well, but we were caught up in a battle with the natives at one of the Portuguese trading stations on the African coast.’

‘What happened?’ she asked, unable to conceal her curiosity.

Joe’s eyes took on a faraway expression and he did not immediately answer, then he said solemnly, ‘I don’t think the captain would like me to give you the gruesome details, but I can tell you that there were more of them than us. There were spears and arrows flying through the air with us managing to dodge most of them. Then it was hand–to–hand fighting. Unfortunately whilst the captain was fighting three of them at once and winning, a spear came out of nowhere and he got wounded in the thigh. The captain drew out that spear and stuck it in one of the enemy. He has a stubborn streak does the captain. Even so that didn’t stop him, but then something even nastier happened and we had no choice but to get him out of there.’

‘It sounds as if he was lucky to survive,’ said Bridget, admiring the captain’s bravery.

‘You can say that again,’ said Joe, his face alight with enjoyment. ‘It was the same when we sailed the northern seas and we did battle with pirates. We often ended up in hand–to–hand combat. The captain only ever used the cannon as a last resort. He’s always aware that there might be innocent captives aboard who could suffer along with the sinners.’

‘That’s very perceptive of your captain,’ said Bridget.

Joe grinned. ‘I’m not sure what that means, but he’s the best captain to work for that I know. Now I’ll have to be going or he’ll be wondering what I’m up to.’

Bridget would have liked to have heard more of the captain’s exploits, but did not wish to keep the youth from his work. ‘I would like some warm water, Joe, and if you could fetch my clothes I’d be very grateful,’ she said persuasively.

‘Certainly, the captain had me wash and dry them.’

She said softly, ‘You are kind.’

He flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘My pleasure, mistress,’ he mumbled, and hurried from the bedchamber.

Bridget ate the bread and cheese and drained the cup of wine and water, marvelling that the captain and Joe had survived such adventures. She wondered why, if the captain was English, was he staying here and plying his trade between this island and Lisbon instead of returning home? If her father and Captain Black Harry were not to be found on Madeira it was possible that they might not be because more than a year had passed since his ship had been seen here—then she must try to persuade him to take her to Lisbon. It was possible that she might find news of her father in that bustling city. She wished Joe would hurry and bring her clothes.

However, it was the captain who knocked at the door before announcing his presence and coming into the bedchamber when she bid him enter. He was carrying a basin and had a drying cloth over his arm.

‘Where are my clothes?’ she blurted out. ‘I want to get dressed and out of this bed.’

‘I am glad to hear you say that, mistress, but are you certain you are well enough to do so? I am having a search made for your father, but if he cannot be found, I am at a loss what to do with you once you are recovered. I will be leaving Madeira soon.’ He placed the basin on the table and the drying cloth on the bed.

‘When will you be leaving?’ she asked, sitting up straight. ‘Joe told me that you are here for the sugarcane harvest. If you are to find my father, surely it would be of help to you to have the name of the ship he sailed on? It is called Thor’s Hammer and was last seen anchored in the harbour at Funchal.’

Harry shot her a glance. ‘So it was only Thor’s Hammer that your informant saw?’

‘Aye!’ Her brow knit, thinking it sounded as if he thought there should be another ship. ‘It belongs to a mariner known as Captain Black Harry. He and my father set out almost two years ago in search of a northwest passage to the Indies in the wake of the voyage made by John Cabot. I was expecting my father to return last year, but he never did so.’

Harry frowned. ‘Who told you that the ship could be found here?’

‘A mariner in London.’

Harry drew up a chair and sat down. ‘It does not necessary follow that your father was on that ship.’

She gripped a handful of the bedclothes convulsively. ‘Are you saying that he could have been on the Odin’s Maiden instead? That’s the name of Captain Black Harry’s other ship.’

He hesitated. ‘It is possible. You must accept, Mistress McDonald, that ocean voyages hold great risk for mariners and explorers.’

She had paled. ‘I am not a fool. But Cabot returned, so why shouldn’t my father?’

‘Why not, indeed?’ said Harry, knowing that Cabot had not returned from his second voyage. He went over to the window and gazed out. ‘But I have to be honest with you and tell you in the light of what you have told me that I do not believe your father to be on this island. I, too, have journeyed to the New World and your father went missing the same time as Odin’s Maiden. This was fifteen, sixteen months or more ago.’

Bridget stared at the captain’s broad back in bewilderment. ‘What are you saying? That you knew my father? If that is so, why did you not tell me earlier?’

‘You have been ill and out of your mind and I didn’t immediately know your identity and that you were searching for Callum.’

‘Were you on either ship?’

‘Aye, I was a shipmate of your father’s at one time and that is how I became acquainted with him.’

‘Then you will know Captain Black Harry, too?’

Harry wondered how long it would be before it occurred to her that he and Black Harry could be one and the same. He was not looking forward to that moment and was determined to delay it as long as possible. He would wager a gold coin that she would blame him for Callum going missing!

He turned and faced her. ‘Your father and the captain quarrelled. The captain was keen to sail further south along the coast of the New World, but your father was not.’

‘Why not?’ Her eyes were intent on his face.

‘I assume it was because Callum had no taste for such a venture. I deem he realised that we were not going to find the passage to the Indies or make our fortunes, so he decided to return home. The captain, on the other hand, was keen to speak to the Portuguese explorers who had knowledge of the southern ocean and its winds and currents. Your father chose to disobey his orders and, I suspect, stole Odin’s Maiden from the captain to make his own way home.’

‘My father is no thief!’ she said indignantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘He was once a pirate, woman, so how can you say that? When did you leave home? It is possible that you and your father missed each other by a cat’s whisker.’

Bridget was mortified that this man knew something of her father’s past life and said stiffly, ‘I left London last May. I know what you are thinking—why has it taken me so long to get here?’ Her expression was strained.

‘I know why. You have forgotten that you told me that you were sold by a pirate to the slave trader whose ship you escaped from.’

‘That is true. I had forgotten,’ said Bridget, putting a hand to her head. ‘A slave trader who could be on this island and looking for me right now.’ Her voice trembled. ‘He paid good money for me and might not wish to lose out on his investment.’

Harry said, ‘He could also be dead or have already left these waters. As for your father and Odin’s Maiden, a mariner can always think of reasons why a ship should be delayed. A storm can blow a vessel miles off course and if a ship survives the storm, it can still be damaged, making repairs necessary. If the materials are not to hand, then the ship would need to limp into the nearest harbour, perhaps to remain there for weeks on end.’

‘You’re saying that this could have happened to Odin’s Maiden and my father might have arrived home after I left,’ said Bridget eagerly. ‘Although, you cannot know for certain that my father stole the ship,’ she added swiftly.

Harry said, ‘Where else could they have both gone, along with a complete crew of men? No doubt he knew that you would be worried about him and wished to be reunited with you. He told me of his affection for his daughter, Bridget.’

Suddenly Bridget’s eyes were shiny with tears. ‘I can accept that as a possible reason why my father might have taken the ship. It is also possible that he might never have reached Scotland and be at the bottom of the ocean.’ Her voice broke on a sob.

Harry said bracingly, ‘You would give up hope so soon? He could have wintered at New–found–land, an island discovered by Cabot, whose waters are teeming with fish. This would have delayed his setting out for home.’

Bridget fought back another sob and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘I will try to believe that is what happened, but if he was to search for me at my uncle’s house in Scotland, then he would not have found me. He would need to go to London.’

‘Why London?’

‘Because that is where I was taken by my Uncle Ranald, my father’s treacherous brother, after my aunt died. He decided to visit his mistress, Lady Appleby, in the north of England, and because her elder son lived in London and she wished to see him, they forced me to go with them.’

Harry wondered if this was the son she had mentioned earlier in her delirium. ‘Why did they do this?’

‘They believed I knew where my father’s hoard was and would not accept that it had been stolen by an Irish brigand, Patrick O’Malley.’ Her eyes darkened. ‘If only we had not met Captain Black Harry in Ireland, who took my father away to the Indies without me, how different my life would have turned out.’ Bridget scrubbed at her damp eyes. ‘I would that you would leave me now.’

Harry was tempted to say that if she had not met him, then she might have been recaptured by Patrick O’Malley and what would have happened to her then? Instead he left her to her toilette.

Bridget so wished she knew if her father was alive or dead. Callum usually drank far too much when life dealt him a blow and then he could be reckless in the extreme. She had believed her presence had helped rein in some of his excesses and that was another reason why she had wanted to accompany him on Black Harry’s ship. Yet when Callum was sober, he was an excellent seaman and she had learnt much about handling a ship and commanding men by watching him.

She washed her face and hands and then dried them on the cloth. At least she knew more about her father than when she had arrived here. She must cling to the hope that he was still alive. She was also a free woman, so should rejoice in that and keep her spirits up. She still feared the slave trader appearing on the scene despite the captain telling her that she was safe with him. No doubt in the eyes of the Portuguese she belonged to that beast and the law would be on his side if he were to catch her again. The captain, being a foreigner on this island, might come off worse if he were to defend her. She had to get off this island as soon possible and look for her father elsewhere. As for Captain Black Harry, she would ask her host if he knew what had happened to him since his ship had been seen in Madeira last year.