Devil of the High Seas, page 9
“Right,” Gavin muttered to himself. He squared his shoulders and spoke to the crew. “My name is Gavin Castleton. The owner of this ship has hired me to sail you to the West Indies. This is Ronald Phelps, my, er . . . first mate. When I am otherwise engaged, you’ll take your orders from him.” On a pirate ship, a quartermaster was second in command beneath the master or captain, but he had to remind himself that on a merchant ship, Ronnie would be his first mate.
One of the older sailors in his early fifties politely stepped forward. “Cap’n?”
“Yes? Your name and position?” Gavin asked.
“Tom Greenwell, Cap’n. Boatswain,” the sailor replied.
“What is it, Mr. Greenwell?” Gavin asked.
“We . . . that is, me and the others . . . we saw that you brought a lassie on the ship.”
“Yes, what of her?” Gavin arched a brow.
“Well . . .” Greenwood exchanged glances with the other sailors again.
“Er . . .” The man’s face reddened. “Is she with you? It’s just that, well, ’tis bad luck to have a woman on board.”
Gavin was surprised at the rather personal question, but Ronnie leapt in before he could answer.
“Aye, she is with the cap’n. She’s his wife, an’ she’ll be treated with respect.”
A few murmurs went up at this. Gavin inwardly groaned. This was not what he needed.
“Aye, his wife,” Ronnie barked. “Any man who so much as looks at her funny will be thrown over the side.”
Gavin barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes and smacking the back of Ronnie’s head. The muttering about bad luck abruptly ceased, and the men straightened to attention once more.
“Besides, there’s another woman on board. Mrs. O’Malley,” Ronnie reminded the crew.
“Aye, but she’s a cook,” Greenwell added. “Cooks are always good luck, woman or no.”
Ronnie looked like he was ready to argue on the matter of bad luck, but Gavin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Mr. Phelps,” he said, then spoke to the rest of the crew again. “Yes, my wife will journey with us to the West Indies. I expect you to be on your best behavior, as she is a gentleborn lady. I shall make it worth your while with extra rum rations once a week, and when we reach port, you shall have some time ashore to enjoy yourselves. Now, I assume we have a gunner and hopefully a surgeon on board?”
Two other men stepped forward beside Greenwell.
Greenwell nodded at the other two men. “This is Mr. Mefford, our gunner, and that is Dr. Gladstone.”
“Right, you know your positions on this ship?” Gavin asked. Both men answered with a confident nod.
Good, Dominic had hired an able-bodied crew. One less thing to worry about. They had successfully gotten away from England last night with no trouble, but time would tell how tricky the crossing to the West Indies would be.
“I invite the three of you to dine with me and my wife this evening in my cabin at eight o’clock.” He knew that on normal ships, those not captained by pirates, the occasional dinner with one’s captain was expected for the higher-ranking crew.
Once everyone was back to work, Ronnie trailed after Gavin, who had stopped near the helm. A young man named Brandon gripped the wooden spindles of the wheel with confidence. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two, but he was a strong looking sort of fellow.
“Morning, Cap’n,” the young man said cheerfully. He nodded rather than saluting him, that way he could keep hold of the wheel.
“Did Mr. Phelps give you our heading?”
“Aye, that he did.”
“Excellent.” Gavin then faced the rest of the decks, watching the men at work. There was a peace to sailing in good weather, when men could be on the decks, scaling the rigging and taking care of rope and other things. It was soothing work that he’d always enjoyed. The sails were full of wind and the skies were clear. He let out a breath, and the tension in his shoulders eased.
“Cap’n, what’s our plan?” Ronnie whispered as they moved away from the helm. Gavin went over to the railing to lean against it. Ronnie joined him, his legs braced apart and his hands clasped behind his back in a posture to rival any admiral.
“Our plan?” Gavin replied.
“Aye, you have a ship and a wench . . . er, wife,” Ronnie quickly corrected. “What’s our plan? I thought we were to go after the Siren?”
“We are,” he promised his friend. “Beauchamp must pay for what he’s done.” The faces of his loyal crew who’d died fighting in the mutiny hovered at the edge of his mind, haunting him. He had vowed he would avenge them, and that was a promise he would keep.
“Then why risk bringing a lassie aboard, Cap’n? She’ll only be in the way.”
“We will stop at my island first and leave her there. She’ll be safe enough. Then we will go to Sugar Cove and recruit men for the recapturing of the Siren.” He nodded at the crew around them. “These men did not sign on to be pirates, and I do not want to put them in danger, or risk another mutiny.”
“We need cutthroats,” Ronnie said sagely.
“Aye,” Gavin agreed. “Now I’d better go and feed my wife.” He emphasized the word to Ronnie with a mock scowl. “I must explain to her that we are to play the role of husband and wife before the crew.”
“Sorry about that, Cap’n. I thought it best they didn’t think you were the wenching sort. Might give ’em ideas.”
Gavin chuckled at the words “wenching sort.” He had never been the type to go wenching when in port. He had sampled the favors of a few women in his time, it was true, but he had never run to the brothels like most. He’d found he preferred the capable company of women like Brianna Holland. She had been both a pirate and a captain of her own ship. He had enjoyed the camaraderie of sharing a bed with someone who understood life at sea and knew her way around a ship. But alas, she had slipped from his grasp and married a naval officer.
He wished Brianna and her new husband well, but he was alone again. Perhaps that was what had sparked his mad scheme to take Josephine from his brother? He had suffered too many losses—his ship, his loyal crew—and now he needed something that he could claim for himself, even if it was only for a short while.
Gavin left Ronnie in charge and went down a few decks to the galley, where Mrs. O’Malley, the cook, was bustling about. She was a spry woman with dark hair streaked with hints of gray. Her strong hands gripped a rolling pin as she set about making bread. That surprised him. Most cooks couldn’t handle any sort of bread while on board. She also had fresh lemons in a box, and it looked as though she’d been squeezing them into a glass bottle for juice. A chicken, freshly roasted, rested on a metal plate, the aroma making his stomach grumble. When the cook realized she was under observation, she set the rolling pin aside.
“You must be the master?” she said, sweeping a critical eye over him.
He couldn’t resist flashing her a charming grin. “I am.” A happy cook meant better food. “The name is Gavin Castleton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Well, aren’t you a charmer,” she chuckled. “I’m Olive O’Malley, then.” She retrieved one of the lemons from the box, cut it, and gave him a slice.
“Is there a Mr. O’Malley?” Gavin teased before he savored the taste of the tart lemon. Some sailors believed that lemons helped keep scurvy at bay. He was glad to see the cook had the good sense to juice the fruit, since he was one of those who believed lemons helped a man’s health while at sea.
“Oh, be away with you!” The woman waved a rag at him. “I’ll have you know he’s the ship’s carpenter.”
“He’s a lucky man,” Gavin said and then leaned over the chicken on the plate to inhale the scent, his stomach growling. “May I take this divine looking chicken for myself?”
“And share with your lady friend, I hope?” she asked, arching a brow in challenge.
“Aye, Josephine, my wife,” he said, still silently cursing his quartermaster for the charade, even if it had been the wisest course of action.
“Yes, take it and share it with her. And take this.” She gave him a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “I haven’t had the chance to put them in your cabin yet, but I was told that you would want them there.”
Gavin glanced at the bottle, noting it was a fine wine. He grinned. It was yet more evidence that Dominic had planned to captain the maiden voyage of this ship and take Roberta with him.
More’s the pity for Dom to miss this, Gavin thought with a smug grin. He and Josephine would reap the benefits of Dominic’s careful planning instead.
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Malley.” He winked at her and collected the tray she prepared and headed toward the captain’s cabin. As he returned to his cabin, thinking of Josephine waiting there for him, he had a sudden idea.
They were likely to be at sea for forty days or longer, and he didn’t want to rush his seduction. He could easily have what he wanted. Josephine was wild and responsive to his kisses, but why rush the experience? He always enjoyed a challenge. So perhaps he would wait and slowly build Josephine’s desires until she was begging for him to claim her. Their joining would be all the sweeter for the hunger having built up between them. Yes, that would give him something to amuse himself on this crossing. How long could a pirate go without taking that which he wanted?
With a grin, he unlocked the captain’s cabin and stepped inside.
“I have food, my lady,” he said as his gaze swept the room. The very empty room.
What the devil? He walked deeper into the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Josephine wasn’t there. Her silvery-blue dress lay on the bed, but she was no longer in it.
“Josie?”
He felt the caress of wind behind him, and he whirled around in time to see the cabin door slam shut and hear the lock click into place. Josephine had ducked past him, and he’d only glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye. Had that even been Josephine? He slammed the tray down on the table and stalked back toward the closed door.
“Let me out, now!”
“Rather a silly feeling to be locked in, isn’t it?” Josephine shouted through the door, obviously trying to stifle a laugh.
“Open it now,” Gavin growled.
“Or what, Captain?” she asked sweetly. “I think you should take some time to think about how to properly treat your guests, and I shall take a tour of the ship while you do so.”
He rattled the door latch furiously, knowing it would not open.
“Josie!” he bellowed, but her steps faded away. He kicked the door with a growl, but the wood was sturdy. He let out another shout, but no one came to his aid.
When he got his hands on her, he was going to redden her backside. With a snarl, he stalked over to the table and flung himself into a chair and began to pick at the roasted chicken, planning a thousand wicked ways he was going to punish his “guest” once he got free.
CHAPTER 7
Immensely pleased with herself, Josephine removed the spare ribbon she kept on her wrist and bound her hair back at the nape of her neck. She walked away from the cabin, humming a jaunty tune, ignoring Gavin’s cursing and pounding on the door.
She wondered why Dominic had a door on his ship that only locked from the outside. Then again, knowing Roberta and her temperament, if the ship was under attack, Dominic would quite literally have to lock his wife in their cabin to keep her safe. Josephine smirked at the thought that she had been the one to benefit from that unusually placed latch. Men were silly creatures, always locking women away and thinking it was the right thing to do.
She followed the aroma of food down the nearest gangway and stumbled into the galley almost by accident. A slender woman was tending a fire in what Josephine recognized was an iron galley stove. All around the woman were heating surfaces with pans and kettles surrounded by iron pipe railings. The stove and its equipment dwarfed the woman, but she worked her galley in a way that Josephine imagined a six-man crew would at their battle stations. She whirled about, checking pots full of boiling pork and beef, if the smells drifting beneath Josephine’s nose were to be trusted. Then the woman removed bread from the oven and replaced it with small sliced potatoes that smelled richly of butter and garlic.
“What will you be wanting, lad?” the cook began before she glanced up and gasped. “Ho there, you’re no lad!” the woman exclaimed.
“Yes, it is my one great failing to have the misfortune to be born female,” Josephine said with a dramatic sigh as she took in the deep scents of the food, her stomach grumbling.
The cook recovered herself and dried her hands on a clean rag. “That’s not what I meant. I was told the captain brought his wife aboard, but I was not told we had other ladies as well.” She studied Josephine’s clothing with a curious sweep of her eyes before she focused on her cooking again.
Gavin had told the crew she was his wife? Josephine blinked and tried to think quickly.
“Er . . . Yes, well. I am, in fact, the captain’s wife,” she admitted, deciding to play along. She could demand answers from Gavin later. It was only a matter of time before someone heard him fussing about in the locked cabin and set him free. Until then, she was not going to waste her chance at freedom before he locked her up again.
“You are the captain’s wife?” The cook stared at her, once more taking in the masculine clothing Josephine wore.
“Yes, my dress was . . . It was my wedding gown, and I didn’t wish to ruin it by wearing it while I explored the ship.”
“You’re exploring the ship?” The cook mouthed the words in shock. “Does the your husband know?”
Josephine grinned, unable to help herself. “Why yes. He is still sleeping in our cabin. He’s exhausted.”
At this, the cook giggled. “Oh, I wager he is. That is one handsome man you have, lass. But even the best of them always tire out after lovemaking. My Davy does too. He’ll be snoring away after a good tupping, and I have to get up and cook.” She rolled her eyes.
Josephine, rather than being scandalized by the cook’s frank words, was utterly delighted. She held out a hand to the cook.
“I’m Josephine.”
“Olive O’Malley. My husband is the ship’s carpenter.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. O’Malley.”
“Olive, please, my lady.”
“Then you must call me Josie,” Josephine replied with a grin.
The cook set out a plate on the counter and began putting bits of cooked beef on it. The beef fell apart at the slightest touch of the fork that Olive used to spear it and set it on the plate. The sight of the tender meat made Josephine’s stomach grumble.
“I’m guessing the captain got your skirts up and got right to business and never gave you a chance to eat that chicken I sent with him?”
Blushing, Josephine nodded. She could certainly pretend to have been bedded by Gavin if it helped her win a friend . . . and some delicious cooking.
“I thought as much.” Olive filled the plate with more food and fresh bread before handing Josephine a fork. Josephine dug in, barely remembering to eat like a lady.
“Olive, what can you tell me about the ship? All I know about it is that my brother owns it.”
“Does he, now? Well, it’s a brigantine, and I believe it’s fitted with twelve guns and a crew of eighty or so men.”
“Were those swivel guns mounted to the rails I saw when I first came aboard?”
“Aye, they are,” Olive said. “You know your ships.” The cook looked approving rather than upset. But then again, Josephine guessed that the cook was a rarity too.
“My brother was a sailor for many years. I learned as much as I could from him.” That wasn’t quite a lie. She had been reading about pirates and ships all of her life while Dominic was away and she couldn’t help but learn something about ships. Her mother’s father had been the captain of a Spanish ship, and her father had been to sea quite a bit when he was younger. Seafaring was in her blood on both sides.
“Well, your brother commissioned a fine ship. My husband said we’re lucky to be working aboard her.”
Josephine agreed. The ship was beautiful. The wood was clean and polished, the surfaces freshly painted. It was rather like a fine English country house that had been given sails and set out on the water. She felt quite at home on it.
She and Olive gossiped about the ship’s crew while Josephine ate. When she simply couldn’t eat another bite, she thanked her new friend and resumed her exploration of the Cornish Pixie. When she reached the upper decks and felt the bracing wind race across the deck to fill the sails that billowed out above her, her breath caught in her throat. The sight of fresh white canvas against deep clear blue skies was everything she’d ever dreamed of, and yet somehow even more magical than she could have imagined.
“Nothing like seeing the wind in the sails, eh?” an old sailor near the railing said as he set to work repairing the loose ends of the thick rope that lay around him in messy coils. He appeared to be in his late sixties but was still lean with muscle. His skin was weathered beneath his white beard, and his blue eyes were bright with gentle mischief.
“Yes, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Josephine joined the man by the railing. She nodded at the ropes he was holding. “My name is Josephine. May I help you with that?”
“No, I’ve got it, but you can keep me company. An old man still likes to look at a pretty lass when he has the chance. My name’s Bartholomew.” He winked at her and grinned, which made her laugh.
“Oh all right, I can’t refuse you. What shall we talk about?”
“Well, you can settle an old man’s curiosity,” he said as he continued his work on the ropes.
“Oh? How so?”
“Your husband, the captain.”
It seemed everyone on board had guessed she was the captain’s wife. Josephine waited for the old sailor to ask his question.
“Yes, what about him?” When she’d come aboard last night, there had only been a handful of crew members who had seen her. Gavin had rushed her down belowdecks so hastily she’d barely seen any of them, yet they all knew she was supposedly Gavin’s wife.
