Читать книгу Within A Captain's Treasure - Lisa A. Olech - Страница 11

Light from above deck lit the dim hallway. The noise of the day’s activity beckoned Alice to the ladder. It was an odd sensation, stepping onto the deck of the Scarlet Night that first morning. Quinn assured her she was safe, but still instincts had her on edge. She had no weapon. The only things protecting her were the stories told by Jaxon Steele and those witnessing the battle aboard the Delmar.

This crew was as fierce as they came. According to Captain Steele, many a ship had simply to see the red sails of the Scarlet Night to throw up their hands in surrender.

Stepping into the brilliant light, she dipped her hat to shade her eyes. Around her, crewmen performed their duties. Their actions brisk and orderly. They were rough and gruff in appearance, but much less sinister-looking than those upon the Delmar. A few wore the remnants of military uniforms like Quinn. Were they former naval seamen, as well, or had they stolen them from men they’d captured?

Alice weathered several curious looks as she made her way across the crowded deck. One man stopped winding a thick length of rope to tug at the front of his head cloth in greeting. She wasn’t sure how to respond other than to say, “Good morn.”

She scanned the decks for Captain Quinn but didn’t see him. Could he still be below?

“Mistress?”

Alice spun back to find three men. The man who’d addressed her held his hat in his hands. Two others stood slightly behind. One grinned at her like a schoolboy—but with fewer teeth.

“Mistress Tupper. I be damned if it ain’t a grand day te meet ya.”

“And you as well.” She held out her hand.

He stared at her hand with a frown for a scant second before realization lit his face. “Oh, beggin’ yer pardon. Done fergot me manners, I did.” He pumped her hand and looked back over his shoulder. “Not like we be used to manners, eh boys?” They chuckled and shifted their feet. “Guess now we have a fine lady aboard we need to be learnin.’” He continued to pump her hand, squeezing tighter.

Finally released from his grip, she rubbed at her crushed fingers. “What did you say your name was?”

He laughed again. “I ain’t said. I be Finch, Miss. ’N these two be White an’ Summer. Wanted to meet ya, is all. We know what ye did fer Captain Steele. White’s workin’ on a song ’bout ya.” Finch hitched a nod in the direction of the grinning man. White’s face flamed as red as the sails.

“Mister Finch, Mister White, Mister Summer, it’s nice to meet you.” She nodded to each. “I don’t need a song, but I thank you.”

Finch burst out laughing and shoved against his companions. “Did ye hear lads? Misters we be now.”

Alice smiled at the trio. White stopped laughing and simply gaped at her. “We can drop all the formality then. Call me Alice.”

“Or Tupper?” Finch suggested. Summer agreed.

“Tupper.” She tested it on her tongue. She’d never had a nickname. Tupper. “I like it.”

Finch puffed like a china goose. “Then Tupper it be.”

A grizzly man shoved his way through the little welcoming group. “White, quit yer slobberin’. The rest of ye, git back te work.” He gave Alice a sharp side glance and sneered at the men. “Women aboard,” he grumbled. “Gonna be servin’ tea next?”

“Close yer hole, Jessup,” Finch snapped.

“She be ’ere less than a day and White be drooling on ’imself. Think he ne’er seen a pair o’ tits. Told ye she’d be nothing but trouble.” Jessup shoved White aside and moved on. White spun with his hand on the hilt of his knife. Finch grabbed at his arm.

“Let ’im pass. Ye ken the rules.” Finch spit in Jessup’s direction. “Best keep yer distance, Tupper. Be rotten clear te his backbone, that one.”

“I’ll remember.” She followed Jessup’s retreat, narrowing her gaze as he glared at her over his shoulder. “I should find Captain Quinn. I’m to report to him.”

“’Course, Miss…I mean, ’course Tupper. Capt’n, be forward on the Fo’c’sle checkin’ on those sick darks.”

“The slaves from the Delmar?”

“Aye. Some be in a bad way.”

Alice made her way from one end of the ship to another. Men stopped and watched her walk by, some glared as Jessup had. Most ignored her as they went about their work of securing sails and repairing the minor damage done by the Delmar. A tiny tread of fear tugged through her. Quinn had been right. She had to remember where she was. Their decision aside, she was still among a rugged band of pirates and needed to watch her back.

Climbing the ladder to the Fo’c’sle deck, Alice encountered the smell of unwashed bodies, sickness, and death. She put the back of her hand beneath her nose. This was the smell she couldn’t identify within Rasher’s cabin. It was the smell of suffering.

They’d turned the upper deck into something of an infirmary. Sailcloth stretched overhead to keep the heat of the sun off the wounded men. The bustle of activity hummed around her. Men came and went with practiced efficiency. Lugging this and toting that. At its hub was Quinn. His height and bright hair made him stand out on the sail-shaded deck.

Quinn was the very image of a captain in his navy wool justacorps with the wide cuffs and brass buttons. Against his white shirt, a black leather stock tied snug at this throat and a wide sash of red circled his waist. His baldric of cognac-colored leather held two pistols and his cutlass. He wore a second knife strapped to one thigh. Under the sail cover, he’d removed his distinctive hat and carried it under one arm. His hair pulled back, his skin golden from the sun. Captain Quinn cut a fine figure of a man.

He was deep in conversation with another man. Standing side by side, the contrast between the two was distinctive. Both tall and broad through the shoulders, but compared to Quinn, the other man appeared rough. More coarse. Black seemed his color of choice. Dark hair hung loose to his shoulders. A long scar split one cheek and disappeared into the scruff of his beard.

The young boy who’d come to Quinn’s quarters earlier was tucked tight to the captain’s side, his intent brown eyes taking in everything within his wide gaze. Quinn took a step, and then the boy took a step, as if he were his tiny shadow. While Quinn had yet to notice her, the child had. Alice smiled at him, but he ducked behind the captain only to steal a look at her again. What was he doing on a pirate ship? He looked far too young to be part of such a dangerous life.

Another young man approached Quinn. He was a gangly youth, all arms and legs waiting to grow into the tall man he was sure to become. There was something familiar in his comely face. Alice had seen it before. When he reached out and tapped the child on his shoulder, the boy nearly leapt out of his skin. Large eyes shot to him, and back at her. His reaction was somehow odd. The young seaman ushered the child toward the aft of the ship.

“Mistress Tupper, so nice of you to join us.” Captain Quinn’s condescending tone interrupted her musings. His gaze made a slow appraisal of her. She had a sudden urge to cover herself. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Regaining her composure, she removed her hat and stepped closer.

Quinn dismissed the other man with orders to set full sail after introducing him to Alice as his quartermaster, Thomas Bellamy.

“Follow me.” Quinn wasted no time with cordial pleasantries. “You’re to help with the worst of the Delmar slaves.”

She did her best to keep in step with his wide strides as he led her farther beneath the tented shade. The coolness under its cover was the only good she could find there. Men lay on low cots, sick and dying. Festering wounds and emaciated bodies. It was worse than she ever could have imagined.

The large dark man, Neo, stood when they approached. He wiped his hands. “Gonna lose two more ’fore the day be done.”

“Stay with them. Do your best. I believe they were lost days ago. Make their final hours as comfortable as you can.” Quinn slapped a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Neo, this is Alice Tupper. She’s to work with you.”

Alice started to extend her hand in greeting, but the look on Neo’s face stopped her. “Aye, aye,” he grumbled as if he’d been given orders to braid the tails of the bilge rats. The side glance he gave her told her he was one of the tolerant—not by choice, by duty. “Come.”

She followed Neo through the makeshift infirmary. He pointed to the back corner. “Worst here.” Three men were laid out in close quarters. A fourth sat close to one. Alice could tell which two would not live to see the night.

“Bring them more water.” Neo pointed to a barrel.

Alice reeled. The smell was beyond anything she had ever experienced. She fought to keep from retching. Moving to the barrel, she clung to its rim to steady herself before finding the wooden dipper. The water tainted by the wood of the barrel was the color of weak tea. She crossed to the furthest man. Eyes no longer capable of sight stared past her as she lifted his head and tried to get the poor man to drink. Water ran down the side of his face soaking the cot beneath. She doubted any of the liquid managed to enter his mouth let alone slip down his throat.

Scanning the area, she spotted a small stock of dressing for wounds. She snatched one, tore the end of the clean strip, and returned to the man. Alice dipped the rag into the water and patiently squeezed water drop by drop between his dried, chapped lips. Silent in her concentration, she repeated the task more than a dozen times.

Alice began to hum softly to the dying man. Words filtered in, and she sang a favorite lullaby she had sung to dear wee James, Captain Steele and Annalise’s infant son. She’d traveled hundreds of miles from that sweet-smelling nursery. A world away from the small bundle of love and joy she’d held in her arms and rocked to sleep. As she remembered the babe so far away, her eyes filled.

The tender song slipped from her lips in words this man could surely not understand, but Alice hoped they somehow soothed him. Swiping away the useless tears, she scolded herself for breaking her rule. She’d looked back.

Alice finished her song and was satisfied she had gotten at least a few spoonfuls of water down the man’s throat. Soaking the bit of cloth again, she then wiped his face with a gentle hand and left him to rest.

She was startled to find Neo standing behind her, staring down at her. His gaze wasn’t frightening, or questioning. He looked at her as if he had stumbled upon some mystical creature he’d never encountered before.

Neo wasn’t her only audience. Gavin stood beyond the sailed shelter in the blaze of the sun watching her. Was he waiting for her to balk at the chore? See if she was too squeamish to witness such suffering? Perhaps he didn’t trust her amongst his men. He considered her a curse upon his ship, after all.

She muttered to herself. Men were an odd lot, and seafaring men where the oddest of them all. After returning to the barrel, she brought water to the next man. He was in better condition and took the drink with little help. Moving on to the third man, Alice cringed and grimaced as the man writhed in pain before her. Neo stood over him. Another sat close.

Alice lifted wide eyes to Neo. “What can I do?” Neo shook his head. The man was suffering. She had to do something. “What causes him such agony?”

Neo lifted the corner of the sheet covering the man. The sight of his leg beneath was horrendous. Alice had to look away. The shackles holding this man prisoner aboard the Delmar had lifted the flesh from his bone, and the infection that now raged was sure to kill him.

Rushing into the sun where the air was less fetid, she took great gulps of air to fight the urge to be sick.

“You’ve lost all the color in your face. Sit down before you fall.” Quinn took her elbow.

Alice straightened and looked back at the tormented man. “He…We need a surgeon. Do you have one aboard? Even I can see he can’t survive with his leg like that.”

“The surgeon has seen him.” Gavin’s mouth formed a thin line.

Panic started to well in her. “What is he waiting for? He has to remove that leg.”

“He agrees with you, but,” Quinn looked back at the man twisting in pain and shook his head, “they’ll not allow it.”

“They?” She couldn’t be understanding. Why wouldn’t they allow the doctor to do what needed to be done?

Quinn sighed and held her gaze. “He and his man.”

Disbelief flooded her. “He’ll die.” She lowered her voice.

Quinn held her arm and spoke with quiet concern. “Neo has translated. The man’s name is Kgosi. He is a chief, a prince of their tribe. The man with him calls himself Tau. When the surgeon prepared to remove his ruined leg, they stopped him. He cannot be less than a whole man to his people. He’s also refused laudanum, as it would tamper with his mind. He couldn’t return to them otherwise.”

“Without the surgery, he’ll not be returning to them at all,” she hissed.

“They are a proud people with fierce rules. Tau has wounds of his own, but refuses to leave the side of his chief.”

Alice stared back at the two men. “This is insanity. The man is going to die.” She turned a pleading eye back to Quinn. “Don’t they realize how serious it is?”

“They do.” He held her gaze.

“We can’t just sit and wait until the infection claims him. There must be something we can do.” Alice couldn’t believe how calm he was. She indicated the guns tucked into his baldric. “You. You can force them. At pistol point.”

He shook his head. “We fought to give these men their freedom. That includes a freedom in their deaths as well.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How can you be so callous?”

“It’s not my choice to let the man suffer,” he snapped. “He is still of his mind, and this is how he wants to die. I’m respecting the man’s last wish.” Quinn released his hold on her. “Do what you can and hope his suffering is short.”

Alice watched him walk away. Was he asking her to resign herself to this? She wouldn’t give up. She’d get Neo to translate. Damn stubborn men. What was wrong with them? Taking a dipper of water and another bit of cloth, she knelt next to Kgosi. His breathing was rapid as he fought through the pain.

Raising dark eyes, he drank some, lifted a hand toward her, but dropped it and turned to Tau. The two exchanged a few words before Tau reached out a long arm and placed his wide hand upon her breast. Alice jumped to her feet in surprise.

Taking a step back, she collided with Neo. “Believed he is seein’ visions. Makin’ sure ye’re a real woman.”

“Real enough.” She pushed the stray hair away from her face and tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Neo, you speak their language. Tell them—”

“Told them.” He stared her down.

Alice threw up a hand. “He’ll—”

“Knows.” Neo crossed his arms over his wide chest. Legs splayed he resembled a mountain.

Frustration made Alice groan. “I don’t understand.”

Neo pointed to the water barrel. “Not yer duty te understand.”

The situation was impossible. All the water in the sea wouldn’t keep this man alive. She might as well scream into the wind for the good her words would do. Her jaw tightened as she brought another dipper of water to Kgosi and helped him drink. Even through his pain, he nodded his thanks.

Kgosi captured her with the deep gaze of his dark eyes. For the briefest of moments he was still. Stepped beyond the pain. As if he’d found a tiny mote of tranquility. And in that single beating of her heart, Alice saw wisdom and pride and a profound knowing in those eyes. He knew there was no hope for him, but he would do whatever was necessary. Suffer whatever pain he needed for his people and his proud culture.

Alice nodded. He was silently asking her to understand, beseeching her to be strong for him. Nothing else. She nodded again, and smiled past the tears he would not want her to shed.

He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. Taking it, she patted the back and placed it gently upon his fevered chest with a silent vow she’d stay close and help in any way they allowed.