Page 89 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
“Captain Taylor is demanding his fee, sir. He’s taken the pirate back aboard until you deliver it.”
Nathaniel eyed his father’s pinched face. My God, he doesn’t have it. His mind whirled. If the messenger relayed that to Taylor, there was no telling what would become of Hawk.
Nathaniel spoke to the messenger. “Please tell Captain Taylor he will be paid in full tomorrow morning. In the wake of the storm’s devastation, the governor is occupied assisting his citizens.”
With a dubious glance at Walter, the boy nodded and scurried away.
A vein pulsed in Walter’s temple. “I do not require your assistance. I am the governor, and my word is law. When I demand the prisoner be handed over, Taylor will do as instructed, or regret it.”
You’ll revoke his letter of marque too? Without a single redcoat to help enforce your rule? Nathaniel bit his tongue. Let Walter entertain his delusions for the moment.
Walter spoke almost to himself. “Yes, let Taylor keep him tonight, and tomorrow at noon, Captain Hawk shall swing. It will be a historic day for Primrose Isle. We have withstood the hurricane, and we will see the fearsome pirate who has terrorized these seas brought to justice. They said it couldn’t be done, that he was some kind of sorcerer. Now the New World will see he is only flesh and blood. Thanks to me.”
Nathaniel’s feet itched to run to the harbor, but he had to be patient. There was only one thing to do, and he would have to wait for the cover of darkness.
“Nathaniel?”
“Hmm?” He tried to smile.
Susanna’s brow creased, and she swiped at a stray curl, her skin flushed. “You’re staring. What’s the matter?”
I’m memorizing your dear face because I shall never see it again. “Nothing.”
Grace fussed in her arms, but Susanna waved off Cecily. Elizabeth smiled wanly and said to Nathaniel, “Your sister’s such a dedicated mother. I hope it comes as naturally to me.” She worried a pleat on her full skirt between her fingers, the tight bodice of her yellow dress thrusting up her bosoms. Traces of dirt clung stubbornly to the dress’s hem, although she’d tried to clean her slippers. She had to be unbearably hot.
“Mmm,” he answered. He belatedly added, “I’m sure you’ll make a fine mother,” and Elizabeth beamed. Guilt simmered in his gut.
Even in the shade of the house, which had lost most of the tiles from the roof and several windows, the afternoon heat blistered. Still, they dutifully sat at a round table. Bart had brought it out from one of the drawing rooms, since the previous garden set had been snapped into kindling.
The governor’s house was inland and on a rise, a view of the sea from the ruined garden stretching out in the distance to the east, away from the commotion of the harbor. From this vantage point, there was only twisted, tangled foliage, a sea of green giving way to blue.
They drank tea and ate day-old biscuits, pretending the island didn’t lie in waste around them, that felled trees with gnarled roots didn’t litter the property. That the remaining inhabitants of Primrose Isle weren’t fleeing, too many buildings blown asunder, the failing colony now clearly irrecoverable.
From a distance, the strident voices of Mr. Davenport and Walter reached them, the words too faint to make out. Elizabeth swallowed thickly and stirred another cube of sugar into her tea with rapid clanks of her spoon. Susanna gave her a sympathetic smile, then raised her eyebrows at Nathaniel.
Yet he couldn’t muster any soothing words. Not when they were still pretending that Elizabeth and Nathaniel would marry. The truth seethed on his tongue, eager to fly into the still air amid the cicadas’ droning chorus.
I’m a sodomite, and the pirate king fucked me every way you could imagine—and some you likely can’t even fathom. I’m going to rescue him and cleave to him if he’ll have me. I want to live out my days at his side, because even if they are severely numbered, it will be truly living.
“Is it ever this hot in England?” Elizabeth asked, her voice trembling as another echo of their fathers’ fury reached what was left of the garden, even the grass beneath their feet churned to bits.
Susanna and Nathaniel looked to each other, and Susanna leaned over to give Elizabeth’s hand a kind squeeze. “No. Summers are very pleasant there.”
“We left when I was so young that I can’t recall. I should like to visit one day. Although most of all I’d like to go home to Jamaica.”
Nathaniel said, “I think you soon shall.” I hope you do, with all my heart.
Walter’s voice rang out. “If there will be no gallows built in time, then we’ll hang him from a God-damned tree!”
Susanna’s mouth tightened, her sympathetic gaze too much to bear. Nathaniel imagined Hawk aboard the brig for the hundredth time, so close and still out of reach until nightfall. Was he injured? Fed? Had the privateers treated him fairly?
