Sailor's Freedom Read online

  Chapter 4

  By noon of his third day at sea, he was rounding Parottee Point and entering the Black River Bay, where he planned to spend the next several days. Before him lay a scattering of islets with sandy beaches and, on the larger ones at least, small stands of trees. Knowing there was a settlement further west, at the mouth of the Black River itself, and wishing for the time being to preserve his solitude, he considered making camp on one of them. To be sure, there was no fresh water available, but that was a minor point; as a small stream was visible on Spain itself, directly across the narrow strait, and his casks contained sufficient supply for many days without need of replenishment. Furthermore, the trees on the islet would provide both shade and firewood. Accordingly he chose the largest of the tiny islands and put in, anchoring the Gull in the shallows and wading ashore to inspect his new domain.

  The afternoon was spent gathering firewood, setting up a sailcloth awning for protection against rain showers (less common in July than at any other time of the year, but inevitable nonetheless), and conveying provisions ashore. Late in the day he returned briefly to the Gull, and from her fished for the first time for his supper, returning to the beach to clean and cook his catch just as darkness fell.

  He sat long beside the fire that evening, watching the glowing heart of it, and listening to the sound of the waves shushing at the wet sand and the rustle of the trees in the night breeze. His only movements were to sip occasionally from his cup of brandy, or to toss more wood on the fire and tilt his head to watch the resultant sparks fly upward. If any had been there to see, they would have said there were thoughts moving in his eyes, or rather the shadows of thoughts, for nothing so precise as words were at play now. He was suspended in time, at peace.

  * * *

  The prick of a cutlass at his throat brought him awake with a start. He gazed up in astonishment. “You,” he gasped, “what are you doing here?”

  The point didn’t budge, but Alexander grinned. “Now of all the daft questions in the world, mate, that takes the prize.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man,” Thomas batted the weapon aside irritably, “I meant, how did you know where to find me?”

  The pirate sheathed his cutlass and extended a hand, “Spies and informants, of course.” Thomas grasped it and made to rise, but Alexander, rather than helping him up, allowed himself to collapse and they landed on the sand with a thud. “Everything the Admiral of the Spain squadron does is of interest to me.”

  “Oaf! Let me up!”

  Alexander’s eyes glinted in the light of the setting moon. “And waste a golden opportunity, love? Give us a kiss, then.”

  “Get OFF!” roared Thomas, shoving mightily and scrambling to his feet.

  Laughing, Alexander stood and faced him. “You’re cross when wakened, James. Must remember that. Now,” he closed the distance between them, “how can I make it up to you, ay?”

  “Cruise, you idiot,” he began, but stopped on a sharply indrawn breath as Alexander’s fingers grasped his hips and pulled him close.

  “There, is that better?” And he rocked his pelvis slightly, chuckling wickedly at Thomas’s answering groan.

  “Damn you, Alexander Cruise.” Thomas took the grinning face between his hands. “You are a madman.”

  “And you wouldn’t have me any other way, mate.”

  Thomas’s answering smile was rueful. “For my sins, no doubt,” and kissed him.

  Alexander hummed approval, welcoming him with lips and tongue and teeth, stinging sweet. As their mouths slowly parted he asked, “And what sins are those, James?”

  “You,” Thomas whispered against his throat, biting softly on the word, “and this.”

  “Ah now,” Alexander chuckled, his voice hitching a bit as a tongue teased his ear, “there’s where you’re wrong, love. The only true sin is wasting your opportunities. Now, let’s have another kiss, ay?”

  “Alexander…”

  “Hush, love.”

  * * *

  Thomas opened his eyes to daylight and gazed hazily skyward, momentarily at a loss. He was lying on a beach, he could hear the waves. Where was he and why….. Alexander. As memory of the night rushed back into his mind he gasped and surged to his feet, looking around wildly. Surely he hadn’t gone already? No, there were his boots and his coat and effects, as he called them, in a heap on the far side of the dead fire, right where he had shed them, before…and here Thomas’s thoughts skittered in confusion. Whatever had possessed him to kiss Alexander in that shameless fashion? There was no one but himself to blame for what had followed. He blushed, grateful Alexander was not there to see and comment, with his ever-ready wit and sharp tongue.

  But where had he got to? It was then that Thomas noticed movement aboard the Gull and heard faint sounds of activity emanating from below decks. Alarm was his first reaction – what if Alexander meant to maroon him here? He was crazy enough to do anything. But a second glance assured him that no such preparations were underway. And with that reassurance, predictably, came annoyance. What was the rogue doing aboard his boat without permission? Had he no sense of propriety? Wading out as quickly as he could, he reached up and grasped the stern rail just as Alexander came on deck carrying a bottle of wine – his wine! – and the last of the bread.

  “Ah, morning love,” said Cruise, no whit abashed at being caught red-handed. “Just getting us something to eat.”

  Thomas surveyed him with as much dignity as he could muster, standing chest deep in the sea and looking up. “Permission to come aboard?” he reminded the pirate, sarcastically.

  “Granted,” said Alexander absently, entirely missing the point, “Fish for breakfast sounds good, don’t you think? Shall we fish first or swim first?”

  “You will suit yourself, of course,” Thomas huffed, climbing aboard, “but don’t expect me to join you in either activity.” And he ducked into the cabin, looking around suspiciously for more signs of depredation. He turned about in the tiny space only to find himself nose-to-nose with an amused and unrepentant Cruise.

  “Sextant, compass, charts, brandy,” Alexander said, pointing past him to various lockers as he named their contents. “Shall I continue?” he asked blandly, raising his eyebrows at his silently fuming companion. “You’re well found in biscuit, dried meat and fruit, but the wine is a bit of a worry, now that there’s the two of us drinking it. Hate to have you reduced to drinking my rum, love. It don’t agree with you, if you recall.”

  There was a charged silence as Thomas scowled at him, breathing heavily through his nose. Alexander’s eyebrows rose another fraction and he tilted his head to one side in polite inquiry. The moments stretched out. All at once the utter absurdity of the situation struck Thomas and he burst out laughing.

  “Out, out, you Bedlamite,” he gasped, shooing Cruise before him up into the sunshine. “Much more of this and I shall be as mad as you.”

  “Sea-bathing is a sure cure for madness, you know,” Alexander remarked helpfully, stripping off his shirt and reaching to do the same to Thomas, who, still chuckling, swatted at him.

  “I can manage for myself, thank you,” he said, suiting action to word.

  “Well do so, then,” replied Alexander, speedily removing his breeches, “and be quick about it. I feel another attack coming on.” And, stepping up onto the rail, he dove into the water.

  Chapter 5

  Some little time later, they sat fishing off the bow of the Gull. Alexander divided the bread and handed half to Thomas. “No point in waiting, ay? May as well start breakfast now.” And he opened the wine, ignoring the displeasure evident in Thomas’s slight frown. “You are a presumptuous devil, Alexander Cruise, to play host on my boat.” “Captain Alexander Cruise, if you please, sir,” was the demure reply.

  Thomas maintained his composure with an effort. He looked around with a very creditable assumption of hauteur and raised his brows. “Well, I don’t see your ship, Captain.”

  “Nor will you, mate – eve
n I know that would be a bad idea. Sent the Siren on an errand to keep her out of your way; the crew were restless and wanted to be doing. I’ve a small sloop of me own anchored on the other side of the island. Oh, not a pretty, gentleman’s boat like this, to be sure,” with a faintly mocking glance at the fresh varnish and gleaming brass, “but she suits me.”

  Thomas wondered with a certain discomfort what sort of “errand” the Swift Siren was on, but deferred his questions for the time being.

  They fished in silence for awhile, munching their bread and passing the wine back and forth companionably. It occurred to Thomas that this was the first meal he and Alexander had ever shared. The very ordinariness of their present circumstances stood in startling contrast to their previous encounters; it suddenly made what was between them a daylight matter, to be dealt with on the everyday terms of real life. Before this, Alexander had always appeared long after dark and left long before dawn, leaving him to wake next day and wonder if the night had been merely a dream of heated pleasure… and of shame. For the second time that morning his mind shied like a nervous horse, and again he felt himself flushing. He glanced up to find Alexander watching him with a small smile that, for once, held no trace of mockery and he looked away in confusion. Just then Alexander’s line twitched as a fish nibbled at the bait.

  “Hi! Mind what you’re about, Cruise,” he snapped, taking refuge in irritation, “that’s our breakfast about to escape!”

  “Not on my watch,” laughed Alexander, setting the hook with casual ease and hauling his catch alongside, where he deftly flipped it aboard and dispatched it. “That should about do it, ay? Let’s go ashore and cook this beauty.”

  * * *

  Alexander said he wanted to fetch his boat around to the cove by Thomas’s camp, adding wryly that he didn’t feel comfortable, mooring her for so long out of his sight “what with pirates about and all”. The island at its widest point measuring a mere half mile, they decided to walk the distance. Accordingly, they set off at mid-morning through the trees, whose shade by that time was very welcome. As they went, they continued a discussion begun over breakfast.

  “Alexander, don’t be a fool! I did not mean to imply that I was displeased with your plan to raid only Spanish settlements. If you have, as you say, confined yourself to such targets, and the Siren is not threatening any English holdings, then so much the better. The Navy need not pursue you for such activity which, under the present political circumstances, can be called almost patriotic.”

  “Patriotic!” cried Alexander, with a crack of scornful laughter, “It’s you who’s the fool. This is purely practical, James. The chances of treasure are much greater among the Spaniards. If the English towns were half as full of gold, why then, I would raid them just as cheerfully.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s all very well. I don’t doubt you delight in making this as difficult as possible. But never mind that now. I want to know what were you about, stopping and boarding – actually boarding– the Relentless last month? What did you hope to gain by it?”

  Alexander chuckled. “That was well done of me, wasn’t it? Not a single life lost and naught but the most minor injuries.” Catching Thomas’s furious eye, he shrugged.. “Captain Gillette’s first command. It was irresistible, believe me. No harm done, after all.”

  “Pull his nose at your peril, Alexander,” Thomas warned, “he hates you. And he is a clever man. He is compelled by ambition as well as by personal antipathy and that is a dangerous combination. He will stop at nothing to see you dead.”

  But Alexander just laughed and shook his head. “I’m not worried. Better men than he have tried to lay me by the heels, ay mate?” This with a sly, sidelong glance that mocked without malice, and Thomas was silenced.

  After a brief pause, Alexander said, “Although, to be sure, we’ve never crossed swords, you and I, have we James?” He stopped and turned to face the other man, his face alight with laughter.

  They had come to a clearing in the trees a few dozen yards wide that looked as if it were the scar of a long-ago fire; the ground was smooth and flat and free of underbrush.

  “Do you ever wonder,” he went on, “which of us is the better man?” And he drew his cutlass and tapped Thomas lightly on the breastbone with the tip. “Care to find out?”

  “What, here and now?” cried Thomas.

  “No time like the present, love. What have you got to lose?” replied Alexander, chuckling. “Try a pass with me – all in fun, of course.”

  By way of answer, Thomas threw his hat to the ground, shrugged out of his coat, and bent, grinning, to pull off his boots. “Challenge accepted, Captain Cruise.” He drew his sword.

  “That’s the spirit!” Alexander stuck his cutlass upright in the ground and likewise stripped down to shirt and breeches. “En garde, then. Have at you!” And snatching up his sword, he attacked with great vigour.

  Thomas met the attack and countered with one of his own, which made Alexander laugh as he blocked it. They settled down to serious fencing, each probing the other’s defenses, testing for weaknesses. Thomas had the advantage of reach and a somewhat longer sword, but Alexander’s speed and rather wild style balanced the scale – leaving them almost perfectly matched. The bout went on for some time, neither man willing to be the one to call a halt, and before long they were breathing hard and sweating in the windless heat of the clearing. Thomas was beginning to wonder how long he could continue when it ended as suddenly as it began. Alexander trod on a stone hidden in the grass and faltered for the merest instant, Thomas’s sword in that second drawing a long scratch down his forearm.

  Alexander threw up his hand in the classic gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit and they dropped their points, chests heaving. Thomas quickly sheathed his sword and reached for Alexander’s arm. The cut was shallow and not serious and, although it bled freely, it soon stopped. Thomas was unnerved at how close run a thing it had been. An instant either way and his point might have found Alexander’s heart, instead of merely scratching his arm. But Alexander laughed it off.

  “I’ve taken worse hurt from a Tortuga whore, mate,” rolling up his other sleeve to show the jagged pucker of an old scar running down the inside of his arm, “although I may have deserved it at the time.”

  Resuming their boots, but electing to carry their coats, they completed the short distance remaining to the far shore of the island in silence. They emerged from the trees on the shore of a small cove, where they found Alexander’s sloop riding at anchor, safe and sound. She was a somewhat nondescript lady ‘of a certain age’ but, as Thomas observed as they brought her round to the camp, essentially sound. With her, Alexander might slip unnoticed into any port on the Mediterranean, which didn’t bear thinking of. He said as much, wryly, to Alexander, who merely grinned.

  “What do you call her?” Thomas asked.

  “That’s a question with many answers,” Alexander replied, “it depends on who’s asking. She’s been the Scarlett and the Giselle, but for you, let’s call her the Elizabeth.” And he laughed at Thomas’s scowl.

  * * *

  They moored her alongside the Gull and took another short swim before going ashore to lounge lazily in the shade, high up the beach, dozing and talking for most of the afternoon. Thomas lay stretched out on his back, hands behind his head. Alexander had chosen to use him as a pillow, lying back with his head on Thomas’s chest.

  Alexander sipped now and again from a small flask of rum. He offered some to Thomas, who refused with a shudder of distaste, which made Alexander chuckle. “I see you’ve not forgotten the last time I plied you with rum, love.”

  Thomas forbore to answer, preserving a dignified mien – no small feat for a man in his position.

  “What a job I had getting you into that tavern, James,” Alexander reminisced. “Had to take a whole town hostage with my fearsome horde of bloodthirsty buccaneers. I hope you noticed what neat work we made of it – and all a mock show. We had them terrified and managed it with
out killing a soul. Not that I didn’t have a bit of struggle with the crew to keep them to the letter of my instructions. But in the end it paid off, for you walked right into my net.” He paused for another swig.

  “And the look on your face, love, when I handed you that noggin of rum. I treasure the memory.” He glanced round and crowed with delight, sitting up to get a better view of the outrage on the other’s face. “That’s it! The very look. Rather like my maiden aunt when the town constable went mad and danced naked in the square of a Sunday.”

  “Cruise, you are ridiculous.” Thomas’s tone was frosty.

  “Not half so ridiculous as you that day, mate,” was Alexander’s gleeful rejoinder. “For - once we got enough rum in you - we taught you to sing the pirate song.”

  “You are making that up!” Thomas snapped, “I would never have sung in such circumstances and especially not that disgraceful song!”

  “Ah, but you did, James me lad,” said Alexander with satisfaction, flopping back down on his chest and wriggling to get comfortable, “and in a fine, clear tenor, too. It was a treat to listen to you.”

  Thomas refused to reply and conversation languished. They dozed.