Page 7 of In the Pursuit of Haven
The crashing wind told me a different tale. “Liar,” I whispered.
Jessie’s lips curved up. “Crabb gave his nephew the ruby locket,” he stubbornly pushed through his story, anything to make us forget the danger out there. “And with that clue, the pirate told his nephew, ‘I intend to make you a… a shepherd of this treasure.’ The next time his nephew came for his visit, Crabb planned to tell him how the locket could take him to the treasure, but before that could happen, like a dream, like divine intervention…” Jessie laughed, “like a curse, maybe, that was when the witch was thrown into his life. He was struck by her beauty, her honesty, her absolute purity; blinded… if you believe the nephew’s version of the story.”
I noticed he was playing with my hair again.
Meeting my eyes, he pushed the wet strand behind my ear. “I don’t usually listen to the evil nephew, but he might be right about that… becauseshedid have that pirate wrapped around her fingers. The next time Crabb’s nephew came to visit, it was the witch who recognized the voice behind the slats of the prison door. ‘What is this?’ she asked. ‘Is Andrew Crabb your nephew?’”
I buried my face against Jessie’s chest—in a moment I was the witch. In the next, he was Jonathon Crabb. Squeezing my eyes shut, I disappeared into his story:
“I know his voice,” I told him.
“Ye know my nephew, Goody… girl?” He seemed confused. The gallant pirate leaned back against the prison wall, his shackles ringing together… and oh! Jessie also happened to be wearing a billowing white shirt unbuttoned to the navel showing off a physique that was untouched by his imprisonment. “How be that, my love,” he asked, “when he is new to these parts?”
“I know nothing of that, sir,” I exclaimed, “only that he is close friends with the sheriff, and…” I leaned closer to the virile man, so that his dastardly nephew could not overhear what I said next. “When they took me in, I heard him conspiring with the sheriff about finding certain treasure.”
Crabb’s eyes glittered through the darkness with his anger. I was almost more frightened of it than the violent gale whipping against our prison outside. “Are… are you alright, sir?”
“Yes… only that I believe my nephew to be a sniveling traitor of the worst kind—he turned against his own blood. Aye, he be the one to betray me to the authorities to get at my treasure.”
I hid my gasp behind my hand, even as his nephew’s plaintive voice echoed through the cell, “Uncle, Uncle? Did ye call for me? Ye have something that you’d say to me?”
“No, nothing to ye!” Crabb shouted. “Ye scurvy dog! I would ye never been born! Ye’ll wish for that fate after I’m through with ye! That treasure will never belong to the likes of ye! Now off with ye.”
“Uncle, what do ye say?” But instead of confusion, his nephew’s voice matched the violence of his uncle’s, and its spite scared me. “Was it that witch who changed your mind? Did she poison ye against me?”
“Leave her out of this.” Crabb tugged at his shackles, but of course they would not budge so that he could protect me as his eyes showed that he would do. “Are ye a man or a chicken? Face me or none at all!”
“Oh, I think ye shall have yer wish!”
The door squealed open, showing that his sniveling nephew had the control to open those doors all along. The flames of a torch flickered over his face. With him was Sheriff Corwin, his black hat tipped low over his eyes. Instead of grabbing the pirate, their hands found my wrist as the sheriff began to undo my shackles.
“Unhand her!” Crabb shouted.
“Don’t touch me!” I added my scorching cries to his. “You will not abuse me. I’m the daughter of a most upright citizen of the community—he be a man of God!”
“And he has nothing to say of this!”Corwin growled, prying me loose from the last of my bonds. “He turned against us one too many times, refused to add his testimony against Mary as a witch! He’ll turn to our way of thinking in no time, no doubt, when we lay hands on ye! But by then it shall be too late. We shall prove this day ye are as guilty as they say!”
I screamed, not knowing what torments they’d use to bring about my confessions of guilt.
Crabb’s boots found his nephew’s back and he kicked him into the sheriff. The two toppled over as helpless ragdolls. “Ye won’t have even a coin of that treasure if ye touch her. I promise ye that!”
“Ye’ll die for this!” The sheriff was red in his shame at being bested by a man chained. “Ye will dangle like the rest of these witches!”
“I’ll welcome it if it means the clues to the treasure go down with me. It will serve ye right to go to the grave with nothing, ye unnatural swine!”
“Nay, nay.” Immediately his nephew began to grovel… as if he did care a fig for his relative’s fate. “I would not that ye die, Uncle. Only tell the sheriff where the treasure be and all of this should be over.”
“Bring me to the gallows with the others condemned to die in a fortnight,” Crabb said, “and if you aid my escape there, I’ll tell ye all ye should know!”
His nephew tried to hide his smile at besting his relative. “Aye, of course, we shall. We will do this thing.” He turned to Corwin. “For surely, he will prove his innocence at the gallows.”
“Aye, aye, no doubt,” the sheriff grumbled his assent. His greed stayed his hand, but I did see that he meant to kill Crabb once he had his treasure. My heart lurched at the horror of it all.
“And let this woman go,” Crabb growled. “Curse yer eyes! She is innocent as a lamb.”
Their eyes shifted to me with expressions of greed and defiance. “Do it!” Crabb repeated the order. “Or you won’t see a glitter of gold for the rest of your miserable lives. I won’t talk if she stay a moment longer in this prison.”
They bobbed in acquiescence. “We will bring our treatise to the magistrates first, of course. Only they can pardon her.”
