Bound by the Buccaneer (3 page)

Hmm
. In the distance someone was walking toward her. It was unusual for her to run into another person on her morning promenade. Get most pirates within throwing distance of a town with a tavern and some women and they’d stay up all night and sleep most of the day. Unless there was work to be done, which was not the case today. The crew’s work was on hold and their break would continue until Gaston’s meeting today.

As the figure drew closer she could tell by his size and the color of his skin that it was Hatch. She’d never seen a more imposing man. She waved to him, and he waved back. When he came into earshot she called, “Greetings, my friend. What are you doing this hazy morning?”

He smiled in greeting, his white teeth a stark contrast against his black skin. Frederica remembered the first time she had seen Hatch. He’d scared her to death as he appeared when she and Gaston had been marooned on a beautiful island. They had only just finished making love when a skirmish broke out around them. The giant had jumped out from behind some bushes and she hadn’t known if he were friend or foe. His black skin shone in the sunlight and he had planted a hatchet directly into his opponent’s skull, hurling it from over thirty feet away.

Later, Gaston explained that Hatch was one of his crew members and Frederica learned she had no cause to be frightened of the enormous man who had such proficiency with a hatchet. But she would never forget her initial terror at watching him in battle. Over time she had grown fond of Hatch, and though she knew he’d never harm her, she was always mindful of what a fierce warrior he was.

“I make necklaces,” he said showing her several loops of shells he’d strung around his neck.

“Oh, those are beautiful!” she said.

He lifted one of the necklaces over his head and draped it around Frederica’s neck. She felt her eyes round as she held out the tiny shells to get a better view. “Oh Hatch, how lovely. How did you make it?”

He dipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of small shells, the majority of them oval-shaped, round and smooth on one side, but when you flipped them over the brown and white striped shells had a horizontal opening that looked like two lips with a purple slash down the middle.

“What kind of shells are these?” Frederica asked.

“Pretty ones?” he said with a shrug.

She laughed. “I love them. But how did you make a necklace from them?”

He pulled a roll of fishing line from his other pocket. “Sit. I will show you.” He motioned to a sand dune and they went and sat down on it.

Hatch showed her how to take a sharp needle, which had been pinned to his pants leg, and pierce the shell. Then he showed her how to thread the shell onto the fishing line.

Frederica tried, but could not get the piercing at first. She broke the first shell she attempted to spear and made a face.

Hatch laughed. “You can do it. Must practice, missy.”

With a sigh Frederica picked up another one and tried again. “How did you learn to do this?” she asked.

“My sister. She was always making a chain of this or that. Daisies, buttons, whatever she found.”

“I never knew you had a sister, Hatch. Where is she now?”

In a fluid gesture he pointed at the sky.

“She is no longer with us? You mean she’s dead?” Frederica asked, not bothering to hide the concern in her voice.

Hatch nodded slowly and continued to work with his shells.

Frederica laid the shell and needle on the sand next to her and looked at him, “What happened to her?”

He waved her question away. “Missy don’t need to concern herself with that.”

She realized Hatch knew a lot about her, but she knew next to nothing about him, and she pressed on. “Tell me.”

He rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “You are not going to leave this alone?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I’m not.”

With a sigh, he began. “My sister and I were born on a sugar plantation.”

“In Jamaica?”

“Yes.”

“I think Gaston mentioned that.”

He nodded. “Our mother was a slave. She’d been captured somewhere in Africa and sent to Jamaica to work on a plantation. My father, he was an Arawak Indian, a tribe native to Jamaica. My mother fell in love with him when he came to barter with her owner.

I do not think that my sister and I had same father. Her skin was lighter, but my mother never talked about it. When we were coming up I worked in the fields, and my sister, Hattie, she worked in the house. She was good with the white folks and they liked her.”

Frederica nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“A Spaniard and his wife owned the plantation until I was almost grown. Then the English conquered the island and all hell busted out. The Englishman who took over the plantation was an evil man. Our Spanish owner had always treated us well, but the new master was a bad man. He liked to abuse the slaves. We were used to much better care and this led to an uprising. I escaped, but my sister was killed.”

Frederica’s heart clenched and sorrow welled up inside her. “Oh that’s terrible,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Hatch nodded. “She was such a bright light, brought joy everywhere she went. A part of me died back there with her.”

Frederica’s throat tightened. “What did you do after that?”

“I kept running. In the mountains, inland, I found a better life with the Tainos Indian people. They welcomed me because of my Indian heritage and because they hated slavery. But after a couple of years life became too tame and I heard the call of the sea. I’d only heard of it, I’d never seen the ocean, but the tales of pirates and the fortunes they could amass in a short amount of time lured me to Port Royale, where I met Capt’n Galette.”

Wanting to cheer him up, Frederica laid a hand on his forearm. “That has been good fortune for us all.” She smiled warmly and went back to stringing shells. Anything to keep her mind off a sea full of pirates out for hers and Gaston’s blood.

Chapter Four

Gaston had planned the parlay in a sleepy little village at the mouth of Oyster Cay. It was a small port not far from Nassau. The town was not much to speak of, which made it perfect for Gaston’s summit with the three other ship’s captains. The small population of Oyster Cay made it less likely for word to leak out about his planned alliance than if they were to have met in Nassau. In addition, he didn’t relish the idea of bumping into some of the pirates he and his men had previously crossed.

It was nearing noon, and the plan was for Hatch to accompany Gaston to the meet, which was to be held in a back room in the local inn. Gaston had pre-arranged a luncheon for their guests.

Gaston dressed in his finest navy and gold brocade jacket, which he accentuated with his usual hat with the purple plume. Borrowing Frederica’s small mirror, he approved the final picture and bent to kiss her.

“Can I go into town for some shopping?” she asked and he thought for the millionth time how glad he was they were pirates. They both shared a taste for expensive things they never would have been able to afford had he been a regular sailor or laborer.

“We shall see, my dear. Let me first return with a report from our meeting. Then we will determine how we will proceed.”

“Dinner, then? In town?” She pouted. He could see from her reaction that she wanted to accompany him to the meeting, but he knew her presence would only serve as a distraction.

Weary, he sighed. “I fear it is too early in the game for me to make any promises. Now I must be off.” He touched her affectionately on the chin and bid her farewell.

* * *

The meeting took place in a back room of the Lucky Sloop, an establishment that boasted both an inn and a tavern. Gaston had hoped he and Hatch would be the first to arrive, but to his consternation when he was shown into the room designated for the meet, the others were already there.

“Ah, Gaston Galette,” said Miles Appling, a blond man who appeared to be the leader of the group, proffering his hand and clapping Gaston on the shoulder. “It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” Gaston agreed embracing his old friend, and captain of the
Independence
. Appling was of a similar age as Gaston, well-dressed, and was similarly educated. He and Gaston had served under a crusty Captain Mosely when they had both been young sailors. Seeing him now, it galled Gaston to admit that his friend was also quite handsome. His cornflower blue eyes and wheat-colored hair, a sporting girl’s dream, weren’t often seen in these parts. Accustomed to being the most attractive man in any room, Gaston eyed Appling’s conservative wardrobe and consoled himself by noting that Appling’s style was plebian to say the least. He sniffed and turned his attention to the others.

“This is Edward Chatham, captain of the
Volusia
,” Appling indicated the tall, lanky dark-haired man.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard many tales of your adventures,” Chatham practically fell over himself rushing to shake Gaston’s hand. The lad must have been in his mid-twenties, a decade younger than Appling and Gaston. While he seemed green, Gaston reminded himself that he would have behaved similarly at the man’s age. There were positives to Chatham’s youth—namely enthusiasm and energy. With the right men around to guide him, he would suit their purpose, so long as he wasn’t a fool.

“Likewise,” Gaston said, peeling his hand away from Chatham’s unceasing grip.

Gaston turned his attention to the last fellow, a short, thick man who’d clearly spent the majority of his life at sea. His face was craggy and deeply lined by years of exposure to the elements, and he blew smoke rings with every puff he took from his pipe.

“May I present Captain Pugwash, captain of the
Greed of Hades
?” Appling asked, though it really wasn’t a question.

“Aye.” Gaston surveyed the last man. Much rougher than the other two men, Pugwash had the air of a salty sea captain who had brought himself up in the ranks with guts and toughness. Though he stood a good two feet shorter than Gaston, he had a compact, muscular build usually indicative of a powerful fighter. He’d bet even money Pugwash could wax the floor with all of them. This was the kind of pirate Gaston wanted, no
needed
on his side.

Gaston shook the man’s hand. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Pugwash.”

Nearly cutting off Gaston’s circulation with his grip, Pugwash squinted and made a grimace. “What ‘appened to your eye there Galette?” He pointed at Gaston’s eye patch.

“Splinter,” Gaston said.

“Aye, them’s the devil, ain’t they? Had one in me shoulder once.” Pugwash shook his head.

Things were going well so far. Commiserating over battle wounds was a good sign.

In the center of the room, Appling gestured to a table set with four chairs. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

The three captains all looked up in alarm at the sound of the door closing and the sight of Hatch standing with his back to it, as though guarding against their exit.

“I say, Galette, the meeting was supposed to be the four of us. Who, pray tell, is that?” Appling asked, irritation seeping from his voice.

“There are three of you and only one of me. Surely you don’t mind if my man Hatch stays. Shall we say it levels the playing field a bit?” Gaston waved the concern away with his hand and flashed his most charming don’t-mind-us smile.

“You’re sure he’s trustworthy?” Chatham asked, staring at the huge, black-skinned man cautiously.

Gaston waved a hand in the air. “Perfectly. Hatch is harmless.” Staring pointedly at Chatham, he continued, “Surely you don’t begrudge me the opportunity to guard my own safety.” He shrugged. “And yours.”

Chatham’s brow furrowed and he bowed his head formally. “Certainly Captain Galette. I would have it no other way.”

Gaston sat back in his chair and took a sip from the ale before them. The other men tipped their mugs, and Appling proposed a toast that they come to an agreement that would benefit all parties.

There were “ayes” all around and they settled into their discussion.

Gaston had vetted these men extensively prior to setting up the meeting. Since they’d agreed to come, he hoped they would be agreeable and considered this meeting a venue for ironing out the details of their alliance.

Chatham lacked the experience the other captains had, but he had a strong relationship with Governor Whitehurst in Port Royale and he carried letters of mark from the English government for certain logging jobs which could come in handy if they ever ran into legal trouble. Pugwash had a large ship and strong leadership qualities, not to mention an experienced crew. Appling was a former military captain for the British Navy, and Chatham had served under him. Appling’s reputation for shrewd battle tactics preceded him, and the fact that Chatham had risen so high for his age indicated he was a talented seaman himself.

Gaston knew that although Pugwash and himself might appear to be polar opposites, they shared more common ground than one might think. They’d seen the horrors of battles at sea, and they both knew how to steer not only their vessels, but also the hearts and minds of their men. A firm respect between the two began to form as they drank their ale and worked through the details of their agreement.

The other three captains wanted treasure, and Gaston Galette had a reputation in the Caribbean for being able to nose out the best hauls from those deep, dark waters. Tales of the booty he’d captured spread far and wide. By the time the stories got back to him they were often wildly exaggerated, but Gaston never corrected the inaccuracies. It would harm his vanity too much to do so.

After several hours, the four ratified an agreement. They would sail together and split whatever was plundered four ways. Gaston marveled at how people often thought pirates were greedy, yet when it came to divvying up treasure, no one was more scrupulous than a band of pirates.

The plan was for them to set sail in approximately one week’s time for the Windward Passage. Gaston had received information from a trusted source that a cache of jewels and doubloons had been stolen from a Spanish warship and was now buried on a small island south of Tortuga, and he already felt lighter at the thought of having a larger fleet accompanying the
Ocean’s Knave
.