Another made the sign of the cross. "Holy Mother of G.o.d."

"Capt'n." Sam lifted his eyes.

High above in the tree tops, ten or so men hung from the branches by their ankles. Large wounds gaped from their chests. Some had their throats slit. A ghastly sight. Eyes wide, mouths slackened, the bodies reached down to the living.

A shot fired in the distance.

"Valeryn." Just as Drake turned toward the sound coming from the sea something buzzed past his head. A spear. It impaled Hotchkins' arm to a tree. The tar cried out in agony.

"We're under attack!" Drake drew his flintlock.

Pikes whirred past at frightening speeds. A spear hit its mark and one of his men collapsed. The men fired their muskets into the jungle at the invisible attackers.

"Sam!" Drake thrust his finger to Hotchkins and the colossal giant ripped the blade from both his injured man and the tree trunk.

A flash of flesh darted between trees, then to another and another. Drake antic.i.p.ated the next move and fired his pistol, felling his enemy.

"Indians! Fall back! Fall back!"

Large fronds slapped at Drake's face as he fled. Palmetto palms poked and scratched against his trouser legs. Spears flew past, embedding into the ground and ripping through foliage. He and his men burst through the copse and took cover among the longboats and driftwood logs.

Natives poured from the jungle. Dozens of them. They cried out in fierce yaps and howls. Black hair pulled tight on the crowns of their heads exaggerated their wild, crazed expressions. Red-and-black war paint decorated the bronzed skin of their arms, legs, faces and backs. Some of the heathens carried muskets. Others brandished knives. Items traded or plundered from shipwrecks along the coast.

Spear after spear rained down around Drake and his men. Musket b.a.l.l.s splintered the timber of their meek defenses. His crew bravely fired, reloaded and fired again. But their fate looked bleak. There were just too d.a.m.n many of them. Their only recourse was to dive into the surf, swim for the ship and hope they wouldn't be picked off. Unfortunately, some of his men didn't know how to swim. He wouldn't leave them behind. The idea of every man for himself was out of the question. To the death he would stand for his loyal crew. He owed them that.

"Keep firing, men!"

Smoke from rifle fire thickened and the winds were slow to blow them away. Through the haze, the natives crouched low and advanced. We're outnumbered. Bones is what we are. Ammunition ran low and he primed his rifle one last time. They were ill-prepared for the sheer number of their enemy. Nothing left but hand-to-hand combat. A mighty fine way to die. But not before he took a few of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds with him.

A loud boom resonated over the fighting. A moment later, the sand before them exploded, sending bodies through the air. Another boom and another cannon ball cratered the beach. The natives scattered, retreating back into the jungle.

Puffs of smoke drifted from the Rissa's gun ports.

"Well, lay me bleeding," Drake said. He didn't expect Willie and Henri to run out a gun. Neither were gunners. He wasn't sure they had ever fired the shipboard guns before this day. An involuntary shiver slithered down his spine at the sheer luck of not being blown to pieces by his own men.

Pops of gunfire erupted again. Valeryn and his men gathered on the larboard beam of the stranded vessel. They were taking aim at the salvager as it steered away into open waters.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Drake clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Get the wounded back into the boats. Make smart with it. We've got to get back to the Rissa."

He didn't have a good feeling about this.

Reaching his ship, a fire under his a.r.s.e couldn't have made Drake scale up the ladder faster.

"You boys fired not a moment too soon, Willie," he said, jumping over the railing.

Valeryn paced the deck. Willie rubbed at his wrists; a rope lay at his feet.

"Those heathens were about to skin us alive," Drake admitted. "You must've had a devil of a time clearing the lashings from the guns."

"We had help." Willie fiddled for his tobacco pouch. Drake suspected it was more out of keeping his hands busy than the need of the dried leaves. "Miss McCoy got a lot of strength for such a tiny la.s.s. 'Twas her idea to fire the guns."

"Was it?" The songbird continued to surprise him. Pride warmed his heart, cracking and chipping the iciness in which it had been encased for what seemed a lifetime. Many moons had pa.s.sed since he felt pride for another person. 'Twas a red-letter day watching one of his best mates become a father. Now, because Gilly, his sweet Gilly, induced the rare emotion, the sentiment meant all the more to him.

He smiled. "Where is her ladyship?"

"She's gone. Henri, too." Willie had a pinch of tobacco poised to go into his lip. He exhaled and put the pinch back into the pouch. "They took 'em."

"What?" Drake looked to Valeryn, his gut clenching. "Who took them? That salvager?"

Valeryn wiped his palm down his face. The frustration and anguish in the austere lines of his frown said it all.

"That was the Alligator, wasn't it?" Anger built in him like the crescendo of battle music. "That blackguard, Lynch, took her?"

"No, sir," Willie said. "Not by way ya thinkin'. Some fella Miss McCoy called Mather stole off with 'er."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" How had Drake been so foolish to underestimate an alliance between Lynch and Mather? Abel, the little p.r.i.c.k, must've seen the confrontation Drake had with the conch captain before they sailed to New Providence and brought him into an accord with Mather. Now the meeting at the Bristol Inn made sense.

Drake should have hocked and heaved Abel to the sharks when he had the chance.

What could Mather offer Lynch to have the salvager chance getting into a clash with the Rissa? Drake's ship outgunned the Alligator. His ship would be severely damaged, if Drake was feeling generous not to destroy her. It would take Lynch months to get back to salvaging and turtling.

"This Mather fella and a few men boarded Rissa whilst we were loadin' the guns," Willie said. "Didn't even see them 'til they had a flintlock to her temple. I couldn't do a thing, not without risking her life. They tied me ta the mast and kicked Henri in his b.u.m leg." He looked away, having been incapable to fight off their a.s.sailants tormenting him. "Quick as they came, they left. Henri, the foolish tar, took to the ropes after them. He boarded alright, that's a true word. But Alligator dogs swarmed 'em." Willie slowly shook his head. "Don't know what they'll do to 'em," he said in a muted voice.

Drake's mind reeled. Mather had Gilly. If they were promised to be wed, Drake should not interfere. To do so invited a challenge against Mather and an unspoken promise for Gilly's hand in marriage. Taking Mather up on his threat and spilling his blood would be a genuine pleasure. But Drake's intentions with Gilly were completely unclear, even to him. He wanted her, there was no denying that fact. He wanted her like no other, if only for a while. He needed more time with her, to hear her glorious singing, to laugh at her silly dances, to explore her. Not just her body, but her mind, her soul.

She didn't want him. He had violated her in the most unforgiving, immoral way. There was no going back. She hated him. He deserved nothing less. All the years he stepped in to protect a woman from evil slime who would rape, torture and butcher her had been obliterated by his pa.s.sion-laced lack of self-control with Gilly.

He had no time for self-loathing. Henri was on that ship and Drake wouldn't let him down. If he was still alive, Drake would see to it Henri set foot on the Rissa again. Besides, not only was the manikin a loyal friend, he was a d.a.m.ned good cook.

"Get the men on board and the longboats secured," Drake commanded. "Set a southwesterly course. We've got a ship to catch."

Chapter Thirteen.

"Don't hurt him!" Gilly struggled against the hold Turk had on her arm. The more she wrestled, the tighter his grip. He dug in, hurting her. She reached around, grabbing his nose and giving it a hard twist.

"Yeow!" Turk let go and cupped his snout.

Gilly rushed into the melee surrounding Henri. The Lilliputian hollered and cursed. He swung wild punches with his k.n.o.bby fists. Gilly shoved and elbowed her way through, pinching flesh and tugging earlobes, until she reached him. She knelt beside Henri, giving the bunch of them a sharp glare.

Poor Henri. He looked a terrible disheveled mess. His beard bows hung askew and one had gone missing.

"Are you all right?"

"Nay, la.s.s. Busted me crippled leg up when I hit the deck."

"'Twas very brave of you." She smiled. Though he now was in dreadful trouble.

Laughter, cruel and menacing, reached her ears. The crowd of rapscallions parted for Mather.

"Give me leave to say, I've never seen a dwarf fly."

"I'm not a dwarf!" Henri shook his balled fist.

"It was a jolly good show." Mather ignored Henri's tirade. "You've got about as much sense boarding this ship as you do height."

Henri growled like a rabid hound. Gilly put her arm around him to keep him calm.

"Now that you are here, what shall I do with you?" He steepled his fingers under his chin. "Hmm," he mocked. "What possibilities."

Turk piped in. "Don't dwarfs juggle and dance funny? Make 'im dance funny."

"No, no," Mather corrected. "You're thinking of a jester with the ridiculous hat. Though with those ribbons, he might pa.s.s for one."

"Ya b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." Henri spat. "I'll see your gizzard cut out and fry it up fer supper!"

"Amusing." Mather's humor faded. "Shackle him in the cage below until I decide his fate." Two ruffians snapped Henri up. He fought against them until a third man trained his pistol on him.

"As for you, my dear, we've a matter to discuss," Mather said. "The fine Captain Lynch has offered the use of his quarters."

Captain Lynch swaggered to stand beside Mather. He bowed his head. "'Tis wonderful ta see you again, Miss McCoy."

Gilly stood, squaring her shoulders and facing the lecherous blackguard. "I find it disappointing that you are in league with this man, Captain Lynch." She raised a pert brow. "Did you know he is a murderer?"

Mather laughed, throwing up his hands in a You got me. I'm guilty gesture.

"We all have our aberrations, la.s.sie," Lynch said. "His transgressions are no concern o' mine."

"It will be when he comes to put a bullet through you."

The captain smiled kindly. "Duly noted, Miss McCoy."

"Enough prattle." Mather extended a hand to guide Gilly inside the ship's interior.

She declined. She'd rather pet a vicious viper than touch the wretch.

Mather tipped his chin to Turk. The lout yanked her arm and hauled her forward.

"Might I compliment ya on yer attire, la.s.sie," Lynch said. "Never has a girl looked so lovely in trousers."

Gilly felt the Irishman's eyes upon her bottom. a.r.s.ehole.

"And the blue sash flatters ya waist. Your purse tied into the sash adds a soft womanly touch."

"Compliments will not erase your involvement to this injustice, Captain Lynch."

"Injustice?" Mather snorted. "Let us speak plain of injustice."

Turk jostled Gilly to sit at one end of a banquet table in the captain's cabin. Mather sat adjacent to her. Lynch poured himself a drink and took the seat at the other end of the table. He stared at her, appreciation sparkling in his gaze. She squirmed under his scrutiny. Shackle her up in the bilge and throw away the key, but don't leave her alone with Lynch.

"Mew not, Gillian," Mather continued. "And let me tell you a tale. Indeed, 'tis a very sad story of a gamester." He pulled a pair of dice from his jacket and laid them down. "We'll give the gamester a name, Hyde. Hyde was very good at rolling bones and playing cards. He was even better at cheating. An investor had been watching Hyde and knew that the gambler, charming as he was, could lure unwary persons into a game. Hyde had a real gift. The investor struck a bargain with Hyde. He'd lend Hyde large sums so Hyde would have pockets deep enough to play against goldfinches. His winnings were extraordinary and Hyde's cut was more than generous.

"But then Hyde got greedy and thought to diddle the investor. I don't like to be cheated and when I went to claim my latest prize, Hyde refused to cooperate. Hyde had been pilfering off the top of the winnings. He had help, of course. I wouldn't let him play with my money without having one of my men with him at all times." Mather scooped up the dice, rolling them between his fingers. "I hated to kill Pippin for his involvement. He was a goodly servant."

Mather rolled the dice across the table. "Three." He chuckled at the bad throw. "I'm terrible at hazard. Just terrible. I'm always throwing out." He barely paused. "'Twas unfortunate what happened next, wasn't it, Gillian?"

Gilly would never be able to purge the sounds of that night from her mind. Standing outside Hyde's door, she heard the angry arguing. And then the shot.

She wished for a spot of her laudanum to dull her memories.

Many things were becoming clear to Gilly. Those fine dresses and costumes Hyde brought her, all those fancy dinners they ate, the pricey hotel he stayed in. He had told her his luck at the tables had helped pay for the luxuries. But it was her performances that allowed them to indulge in the wealth. His wins didn't last long with his spendthrift ways. Hyde had managed the money she made at the Peregrine Inn. He arranged it all and now she wondered where the money had gone.

"Before Hyde met with his untimely end and in a cowardly plea to spare his life, he mentioned you. You had my money-and more. This I believe."

She didn't understand. Hyde had not given her money. It hardly ever pa.s.sed through her hands.

"I entrusted much coin to him. Naturally, I kept an eye on the one constant in his life. I came to see you perform many times. Between watching you from afar and feigning interest in Hyde's personal affairs whilst drinking to his latest trick, I knew I had leverage against him making off with the pool."

He rolled the dice again. "Seven," he smirked.

"Good throw, boss," Turk said.

"Pray tell." Gilly leaned forward, challenging Mather with her question. "If you were worried Hyde would make off with the winnings, why didn't you oversee him yourself?"

Mather had a charming smile, she couldn't deny it. It was easy to see how men and women alike might let their apprehensions melt away in his friendly a.s.suaging warmth. She would not forget his amity was poison.

"My connections to games at private engagements are often at the recommendations of the lady of the house. I am obligated, in a manner of speaking, to be in her company while the host plays."

"Much like the cuckolded husband, you lost control of your possession while preoccupied dipping into the stakes." Gilly treaded in dangerous territory. She simply didn't care a fig. "Wouldn't you say that was a greenhorn mistake?"

The muscles along his jaw line twitched and his tongue flicked out. The convulsions rattled her control. His angry glare bored into her. "Unlike your Hyde, I still breathe, Miss McCoy."

Anger hardened in her gut, but she would say no more. There were no words to say that would help her now. Bide your time, Gilly. You must bide your time if you want to escape with your life.

Mather took several deep breaths. "He wanted me to give him a chance to get my earnings from you. Honestly, I don't know why I would do such a thing. I suppose he didn't want harm to come to you.

"Hyde fought well, yes, dear girl, he did. But my message was quick and sure."

"Bang!" Turk hollered.

Gilly jumped in her seat and Turk laughed.