Siren's Song Page 9

  His jaw tightened in a grim line, and just for a moment, a smile lingered on his lips as he gauged the distance of the two French ships approaching from different directions.

  "They believe they have us, Cornelius, but they have just signed their own death warrant! Look sharp," he warned as the two ships bore down on them with cannons firing.

  With a quick maneuver leeward, the Tempest's bow arched and it seemed as if the ship was propelled upward, between wind and water. Men tumbled across the deck and machinery slid abaft as Judah fought to compensate for the perilous movement. With superhuman strength, he managed to maintain his grip on the wheel and bring the vessel under his control.

  When the Tempest cleared the path of the enemy ships, the deafening sound of cannon fire continued. A cloud of sulfur smoke was so thick that it was impossible for Judah to see what was happening behind him.

  He turned the Tempest against the wind and grabbed up his glass to see if his plan had worked.

  Slowly, the smoke cleared and his face was grim, but he nodded in satisfaction.

  "I never saw the likes, Captain!" Cornelius said, grinning widely and shaking his head in amazement. "I thought we were goners the way the French had us trapped between them. Damned if you didn't slip out of their reach and their wayward shots hit each other. This day will be spoken of long after we are all gone."

  A yell of triumph went up from the crew as they saw the extensive damage to the enemy ships. One was listing badly from a gaping hole at her waterline. The other vessel had sustained extensive damage and was on fire. They were both sinking.

  Judah watched as small crafts were launched and the French sailors clamored over the sides of their ships, fighting for a place in the longboats.

  "Do we fire on them, Captain, or do we take prisoners?" Cornelius inquired.

  "Let no man fire, and leave them to their own devices. The enemy has lost, and we shall not add to their woes."

  "We'll take no prize from them," the first mate observed as the burning ship went under.

  Judah glanced about his own ship. Wounded men lay bleeding on the decks, some who were pinned beneath broken masts were dead. "Get us underway, Cornelius. Take us to safe harbor so we may lick our own wounds."

  Dominique was bone-weary, but she saw that there were wounded who needed tending. Wordlessly, she knelt beside Dr. Graham and assisted him while he tied a tourniquet around Tom Beeton's injured arm.

  "Doctor, you see what the little miss did?" Tom said, grinning despite his pain.

  Ethan glanced at Dominique, whose face was black and her clothing shredded. "Did you join in the fight?"

  "That she did, Doctor." Tom answered for her. "Miss Dominique was so fearless, that no man could have done better," he said with pride.

  Ethan motioned for two men to take Tom below to the infirmary. There was no time to dwell on the battle— the wounded needed immediate attention. As he moved from man to man, doing what he could, Dominique stayed at his side, lending her aid. She wrapped shattered limbs, cleansed gaping wounds, and held the hands of dying men.

  It was hours later before she could escape to her cabin. Then she was so weary, she fell asleep at once.

  After Judah surveyed the damage to his ship and made certain she was seaworthy, he went to the infirmary and walked among the wounded, pausing at each man to give him a word of encouragement. Although they had taken no prize, each man considered today a decided victory.

  Judah stopped to converse with Tom Beeton, who wore his arm in a sling. "How goes it with you, Tom?"

  "I'm doing right fine, Cap'n, sir. We had ourselves a hell of a battle this day."

  "I understand from the doctor that you took a hard one in your arm and had some deep splinters, but that no bones were shattered."

  "That be so, sir. But it would have been worse if not for the little lady."

  "1 have been told that Miss Charbonneau helped during the battle." Judah smiled at the man's changed attitude toward having Dominique on board ship. "Everyone seems to be singing her praises."

  "She's mighty fine, Cap'n. Miss Dominique was a ministering angel, helping Dr. Graham with the wounded. Most women would have been squeamish when it came to wounds and blood, but not her."

  "Well, Tom, she seems to have found a champion in you, hasn't she?"

  "That she has. It's kinda like she's brought us luck, Cap'n. If anyone ever tries to cause her harm, he'll have to deal with Tom Beeton first."

  Judah saw no reason to remind Tom that he was the one who had cried the loudest that having a woman on board would bring disaster to them all. Next, he thought, Tom would be bragging that he was the one who brought Dominique onto the ship in the first place.

  "If that be so, Tom, then we owe the battle to Miss Charbonneau."

  Tom rose up on his elbow. "No, Cap'n, the battle belongs to you, and by all that's holy, I never saw anything like it. I do recall a legend about a captain, can't call his name to mind, but he was one of those heroes from the Revolutionary War—don't know if he was a real person or just some tale. He was said to have done the same maneuver you did today and with the same results. Never heard of anyone else pulling such a stunt, and never expect I will again."

  Judah looked reflective. "The man you speak of did in fact exist. He was known only as the Raven, and he was a friend of my father's."

  The hour was late as Judah went below to see about Dominique. Her door was ajar, so he entered the cabin to find her asleep. He stood over her for a long moment, studying her features. Her face was blackened, and her clothing was torn and bloodstained. He tried to imagine her as she must have looked today, manning a cannon and tending the wounded.

  He though of his dead wife. Mary would have fainted at the first sounds of battle, let alone the sight of blood. Over the years, he had learned to measure every woman by Mary's character—but not this woman. She was different from anyone he had ever known.

  Even beneath her blackened face, he could see the smooth even features. Her form was slender and her hands dainty. What would make a woman with her kind of courage turn to prostitution? he wondered, resenting the fact that she had been handled by countless men.

  He reached down and picked up a blanket and pulled it over her.

  Dominique only sighed, but she did not awaken.

  There were many things he did not understand about her, but he would never believe, after her heroic deeds today, that she had fled to his ship in need of protection.

  There was another reason she was there, and he intended to find out what it was.

  12

  Dominique was jarred awake by the rumbling sound of cannon fire. In a panic, she jumped off the bed and raced upward to the deck. It took her a moment to realize that they were not under attack.

  Instead, Captain Gallant was conducting a solemn ceremony in honor of the men who had died in battle. She pressed her way forward and was surprised when the crewmembers stepped aside respectfully to allow her to pass.

  Moving to stand beside Dr. Graham, Dominique looked up at the quarterdeck, where all eyes were trained on the captain.

  "Rest in peace, noble warriors," he said with feeling, "until the sea shall give up her dead."

  Dominique glanced about her, noticing the look of respect on the faces of the men. They might be hardhearted pirates, but they did appear to honor the man who commanded them all.

  The ceremony seemed to be over, but everyone still stood at attention, waiting until Captain Gallant dismissed them.

  Dominique looked up at the doctor in remorse. "I must have slept through most of the ceremony. I am sorry for that."

  Ethan gazed down at her and smiled slightly when he saw that her face was still black from the cannon smoke. "You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Charbonneau. I would say you deserved your rest. Have you any notion what a heroine you have become to this crew?"

  "I have?" she asked in surprise.

  "I can assure you I was told a dozen different versions of how you single-
handedly saved the ship."

  "While I was helping you, I heard nothing but talk of the daring of your Captain Gallant. I would say the day belonged to him."

  Ethan nodded. "In truth, Judah is known as a brilliant strategist with a quick mind. Even so, I am as amazed as everyone else at how he outsmarted two ships that outgunned and outmanned us. Some men are born with abilities far beyond us other mortals—he is one of those men."

  "You like him," Dominique observed.

  "Indeed I do. And if that's a crime, I plead guilty."

  Her eyes widened with sudden wonder. "I did not realize that we had been attacked by two enemy ships."

  "The way I understand it, you were a bit busy helping load the cannons."

  There was misery in her eyes. "I never thought I would help take a human life."

  Ethan put a comforting arm about her and steered her around a broken timber. "Do not blame yourself. It was the French ships that destroyed each other. Our captain merely maneuvered out of their path so they could take the cannon shots that were meant for us."

  Dominique swallowed hard. "Were there . . . Were many lives lost on those ships?"

  "Not near as many as there would have been, Miss Charbonneau, had not the captain allowed them to take to their longboats. I wonder if they would have been so generous if the circumstances had been reversed?"

  Dominique was troubled by yet another side of the complex Captain Gallant. Why couldn't he be the coldblooded pirate she had been led to believe he was? "Doctor, why do you think he allowed them to escape?"

  Ethan's voice softened with kindness as he inspected her face and hands. "You will have to ask Judah that yourself. But for now, you should return to your cabin. I'll have bathing water brought to you."

  Her hand went to her face, and for the first time she thought of her own appearance. "I must look a fright." She hurried away from him, feeling the heat of her humiliation in the very depths of her soul.

  She did not see the adoring way the crew looked at her as she passed, and neither did she see their captain, whose eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight.

  Dominique had bathed and was now clothed in clean trousers and shirt. When she heard the hesitant tap on her cabin door, she had just finished brushing her hair and laid the brush aside. She opened the door, startled to find Tom Beeton, with an uncertain grin on his face.

  "Miss Dominique, the first mate gave me permission to speak with you."

  "How is your wound, Tom?"

  "It's less than a scratch, Ma'am. I've had much worse."

  She had not expected the man who had been punished because of her to show such kindness. "I am glad. I was concerned about you."

  He cast his eyes downward and stared at his scuffed shoes. "Ma'am, I made you this necklace and I wondered ... if it... if you'd like it."

  He extended his prize to her: a necklace made of polished shells and threaded on a leather string. She could only imagine how painstaking it must have been for him to complete the task with his injured arm.

  She smiled, and lifted it over her head. "I have never had a finer gift, Tom. I shall treasure it always."

  His eyes were shining and he took two steps backward. "Ma'am, if you ever need anything, me and the men—especially me—will. .. Well you know."

  "Thank you, Tom. I shall remember that."

  "Night, Ma'am." ,

  "Good night, Tom."

  Dominique smiled as she closed the door, wishing she could win Captain Gallant over as easily as she had Tom Beeton.

  The sun was like a magnificent ball of fire against the backdrop of an azure-blue sky. Gentle waves lazily kissed the sandy, white beaches. The Tempest was anchored off a hidden inlet where she was undergoing repairs.

  Several crewmen were carrying buckets of pitch they had found in a nearby lake to caulk the ship, while others were cutting timber to replace the masts that had been shattered.

  Dominique sat on the deck beside Tom, who had attached himself to her as her protector. Hennings, the sailmaster, sat upon his bench, observing their work with a watchful eye. All three were wearing special thimbles to force the needles through the tough canvas sails.

  After a while at the tedious task, Dominique became bored and stood up to move about the ship. She leaned against the railing as her eyes traced the path of a colorful blue bird until it dipped down to the tropical forest and was lost from view.

  Then her eyes were drawn to the man who stood atop a hill, apart from the others, yet aware of everything that went on around him. He was stripped to his waist, and she could see the rippling muscles, his bronze skin glistening with sweat, and again she was reminded of his godlike pose. Could any woman reach his heart? He said not, but he had been married, and surely he had loved his wife.

  Now, she could feel the intensity of his gaze upon her, and she could not breathe. Even from this distance, she was affected by his commanding poise, the strength of him. She felt something else, his displeasure, and it was aimed at her.

  Suddenly the cart that had been built to transport logs broke loose and careened down the steep incline, scattering men before it, and the logs went flying in every direction.

  Judah ran down the hill to help right the cart and reload the logs. Tom and the sailmaster abandoned their task and rushed down the gangplank to lend their help as well.

  After watching for a while, Dominique decided it would take them hours to reload the cart. She glanced about her, and found she was alone on board the ship. Her heart was beating wildly—there could be no better time to search the captain's quarters.

  But first, she hurried to her own cabin and scooped up the book of Homer. If the captain came back unexpectedly, she could pretend to be returning it.

  She was shaking as she made her way cautiously to the quarterdeck. She forced herself to slow her steps and try to calm her breathing. Before entering the captain's quarters, she paused to see if anyone was watching her, but they were all too busy on shore.

  Cautiously, she opened the door and stood transfixed for a moment. It had never been her habit to pry, and this was much worse. It was spying on a man who had never done her harm.

  At first she stood undecided in the doorway, reluctant to enter the captain's sanctuary, but time was her enemy and she could not cower on the threshold.

  She hurriedly moved to the desk in the corner of the sleeping quarters, wishing she dared light a lantern because it was dark in the cabin. Quickly, she thumbed through a neat stack of papers only to find that they contained nothing more than inventories of loot taken from captured ships. The desk had several pigeonholes that contained maps and charts, but nothing that indicated what the captain's future plans were.

  Neatly, she returned everything, taking care to leave nothing out of place.

  She moved about the cabin, looking for anything that would tell her about the private man, the part he kept hidden from others. All she knew about his personal life was that he had been married to a woman named Mary, who had died. Strange that there were no pictures of his wife in his quarters.

  Dominique glanced down at the book in her hand. Obviously he had cared enough to keep this as a treasured memento of his wife.

  Her eyes fell on a chest in the far corner. She went down on her knees, tugging at the catch, but it was locked. It probably contained the logbook with all the captain's entries. Surely if she could get her hands on that, it would placate Colonel Marceau.

  She considered breaking the lock, but thought better of it. Poor Tom had been flogged, and his offense had not been nearly as serious as searching the captain's private papers.

  In that moment, she heard the sound of heavy boot steps and she trembled. It was the captain—no one else would dare come to his quarters.

  There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  Suddenly Dominique realized what she had to do. She must convince Judah that she had come to wait for him, no matter how distasteful she found the ruse.

  The footsteps were
drawing closer, so she snatched up the book, hurried to his bed, and lay back as if she had been reading.

  The door opened with a flourish, and Judah stood before her, his eyes blazing with suspicion. He was silently accusing as he looked probingly into her eyes.

  "What, may I inquire, are you doing in my cabin?"

  Clutching the book in front of her as if it were a shield, Dominique looked up at him with a forced smile. "I came to return your book and became so engrossed in reading it that I almost fell asleep."

  "I see."

  He walked deliberately toward her, and she flinched when he sat down on the bed beside her. He took the book from her and turned through the pages. "Here, read this part to me—it is my favorite passage."

  She glanced at the printed words on the page he held before her, but they meant no more than scribbling to her. She had forgotten that the book was written in Greek, but her mind was working fast, and she had to distract the captain before he became too suspicious.

  He poked his finger to the page. "Read it," he commanded.

  Dominique tossed her head and wet her lips, allowing her hand to steal up his arm to his shoulder, which was tight and tense beneath her touch. "You have already guessed that I cannot read Greek. I came here to wait for you."

  He grabbed her hand and held it in a tight grip. "Do not provoke me, woman." He was suddenly stone-faced, and she could not tell what he was thinking. "Do I look like a fool?"

  She came up to her knees, bringing her body so close to his that she could feel his heat. "No one would ever accuse you of being a fool, Captain."

  Lifting her eyes to him, she smiled ever so slightly, wearing what she thought was the face of a seductress, but in reality, her features were etched in innocence. "You have found me out, and I am forced to tell the truth."

  "And what is the truth, Miss Charbonneau?"

  "I have come to see if you are a hero, as your men have proclaimed, or a villain, as the French would have it."

  His hot glance burned through her as if he could see what she looked like beneath the mannish attire. "And if I am a villain? You are here at my mercy, are you not?"