Jennifer Wilde Read online

  "Oh?"

  "He's frightfully good-looking, too, I hear. Very tall and lean and hair the color of copper, eyes like blue ice. He's a cold, merciless killer who'd as soon run you through as look at you, but he has a definite weakness when it comes to beautiful women."

  "Where did you hear all these things?"

  "You hear a lot about Red Nick on the waterfront, luv. Here, take some of this beef and hide it. Is there a pocket on your skirt? No? Hide it in your bodice then—here, I'll wrap it up in a bit of my petticoat. A few hours from now you'll be glad we have these extra provisions."

  Em tore off part of a petticoat ruffle, wrapped the beef in it and handed it to me, I thrust it between my breasts. Dobbs came stalking back to retrieve the bag he had dropped, but not before Em had scooped out several more handfuls of parched corn. She smiled sweetly and looked at him with admiring, angelic eyes. He scowled, handed her a canteen of water, and moved on to distribute food to some of the other women, cuffing Nadine viciously when she asked for more.

  "That one's not going to last a breakfast spell," Em remarked, indicating Nadine. "She has the brains of a peacock. I may not have much book learning—my schooling stopped when I was ten—but I learned how to take care of myself in tricky situations. A girl has to."

  "I know, Em. I've been in a few tricky situations myself."

  "I suspected as much, luv. You may look like a duchess, may speak with a high-toned accent, but you've had your share of rough times, too. I sensed that immediately, I could see it in your eyes. I don't know how you happened to end up in a mess like this—I don't pry, luv, I mind my own business—but I have a feelin' a man was involved,"

  "You're right, Em," I said quietly.

  Em reached over and took my hand, squeezing it encouragingly. "Don't you worry, luv," she told me. "We're in for some more rough times, I don't deny it—it's going to be scary—but you and me, luv, we're going to stick together and we're going to survive."

  I nodded, giving her hand a return squeeze. This feisty little street sparrow in her ragged pink dress reminded me a great deal of Angie, the girl who had come to America on the convict ship with me. Angie had been feisty, too, with a face like an angel's and a vocabulary that would have made a stevedore blush. I had learned a great deal from her, and those lessons had stood me in good stead during the years that followed. Em had already displayed her ability to make the best of things, and having her at my side was going to make all this much easier to endure.

  "The first thing we've got to do, luv, is make sure we end up on the island instead of in one of them houses. I don't see it as bein' a huge problem," she added.

  "Neither do I," I told her.

  "Now you're talkin', luv! If we don't get eaten up by alligators, we're in business."

  "On your feet, sluts!"

  The pirate in charge cracked his whip. He was a blond giant with a patch over one eye and a filthy blue bandana tied around his head. He wore an olive-green frock coat with silver buttons, the once-elegant garment frayed now, torn on one side. His name was Quince, and he wielded the whip with vicious authority, a sadistic smile on his lips as he lashed one of the women across the shoulders.

  "That one," Em said, shuddering. "He makes my blood run cold. You want to watch out for him, luv."

  "I fully intend to."

  "Hurry it up!" Quince yelled. "Get movin'!"

  Dobbs and Ginty collected the canteens and lined us up again. A chubby, brown-eyed brunette in a blue dress saw a snake slithering toward her through the grass. She screamed and stumbled over a log, falling heavily on her stomach. Quince kicked her savagely and, seizing her by the hair, yanked her to her feet. The girl was in a state of shock, trembling uncontrollably. Quince slapped her across the face and shoved her into line, and we started through the thick grove of cypress trees, moving slowly of necessity, frequently tripping over the tangled roots.

  The eerie, gray Spanish moss dangled down, brushing our cheeks, and swarms of insects filled the air, mosquitoes lighting on us with a soft, feathery touch that quickly turned into a painful sting. The cypress trees thinned out, and we moved alongside a stagnant green lake, greenish-gray logs resting in the muddy bank, frequently stirring to slide into the water. Em gripped my hand tightly, eyeing the alligators with considerable alarm. Turning away from the lake, we moved through another dense forest of trees, vines hanging down in treacherous loops, the ground damp and spongy. The mosquitoes were still with us, but one soon learned to ignore them, just as one learned to ignore the horrible, fetid smells.

  We had been moving along for perhaps three hours when Quince yelled for us to halt. The forest had given out, and we were on the edge of another body of water, neither lake nor river but a sprawling green mass dotted with small islands covered with more trees. The pirates dragged three large, flat wooden boats out from under the shrubbery and ordered us to climb into them, Quince cracking his whip in the air, lashing it across the shoulders of any woman he felt moved too slowly.

  "I'm not going to like this part," Em confided. "Never have trusted boats, luv, and these look mighty leaky."

  "Step lively!" Quince roared.

  Em and I climbed into one of the boats, sitting down on the wooden planks in the center. The skinny blonde named Nadine climbed in after us, as did the plump brunette in blue and two more women, one a terrified Negro girl who couldn't have been over fourteen, the other a lass with pale brown hair and sky-blue eyes that looked curiously empty. She was still in a state of shock. Dobbs clambered into the front of the boat, wielding a long, narrow pole. A pirate named Tremayne stood up in the rear, pushing us off with a similar pole.

  "Careful there, luv," Em told him, "you don't want to tip us over. These waters are full of alligators."

  Tremayne merely scowled at her. He was considerably younger than the other men, surely not more than twenty-five, a tall, muscular lad with dark brown eyes and sun-streaked brown hair. He wore high black boots, clinging gray cord breeches, and a blue and gray striped jersey that accentuated his powerful shoulders. A dark blue scarf was tied around his neck. He stood with legs wide apart, perfectly steady as the boat swayed in the water. Dobbs stood in front, using his pole with skill.

  "How deep is this water?" Em asked.

  "Not more 'n six feet," Tremayne growled. "Relax, wench, you're not gonna get wet."

  "If I fall in, will you rescue me? I don't swim, you see."

  Tremayne pretended to ignore her, but I could see him stealing looks at her as he and Dobbs poled us past one of the islands. The boat rocked alarmingly in the stagnant, greenish-brown water, the prow cutting through layers of scum. Nadine brushed pale blonde locks from her cheeks and rearranged her sky-blue brocade skirt, revealing the elegant lace underskirts beneath. Although the clothes were filthy now and deplorably tattered, I could see that they had come from Paris. The girl had a sharp, thin face and light green eyes, her pink mouth full and pouting. She spoke with a French accent.

  "Where are they taking us?" she exclaimed.

  "Far, far away," Em informed her. "Don't get so riled up, Nadine. You might tip us over."

  "But I don't belong here! My father is an aristocrat. He'll pay a fortune to get me back! I'm not like the rest of you! I'm not a whore!"

  "No?" Em said. "You could have fooled me. If you're so bloody high and mighty, what were you doing on the waterfront?"

  "I was visiting a friend. He—he happened to be staying in one of those dreadful inns down there. I begged him to find better lodgings. I told him I couldn't keep going down there."

  "I'll wager Daddy didn't know about your little visits, luv. If there's anything I can't stand, it's a bloody hypocrite. At least I'm an honest whore, luv. I'll bet you didn't even charge."

  Nadine gave her a sullen look and glanced around apprehensively, gnawing her lower lip. The plump brunette was still trembling. I took her hand, gently squeezing it. The girl's hands were rough and red. I guessed that she had been a scullery maid, a sturdy, uneduc
ated girl who clearly came from peasant stock. Her name, I knew, was Bessie, and I was almost certain she had been a virgin when she was abducted. I held her hand and smoothed hair from her temple. After a while her trembling ceased, but her large brown eyes continued to stare straight ahead seeing nothing but remembered horror.

  Dobbs and Tremayne poled us past another of the islands and then guided the boat through a narrow opening among the trees and down a finger of water not more than twenty feet wide, muddy banks close on either side, tree limbs forming a moss-draped canopy overhead. The light was dim here, only a few pale rays of sunlight able to sift through the limbs. Strange birds cried out, and the moss floated in the air like thick smoke. We continued down the watery tunnel for at least an hour before turning down another, one boat ahead of us, the other following close behind.

  A peculiar calm possessed me. I no longer heard the explosion and saw the puff of smoke and the violent orange streak, no longer saw the man I loved staggering backward, falling off the pier into the water, and I no longer felt the anguish that made life itself unendurable. That was locked up tightly inside of me, and there it would remain for the rest of my life, an integral part of me. One day, perhaps, I would allow myself to remember and feel the anguish again. One day, perhaps, I might even allow myself to cry, but that luxury would have to wait. Now there was room for nothing but this steely resolution to survive and take my revenge on Roger Hawke.

  The horror I had experienced since that night had had no effect whatsoever. I had endured Will Hart's brutal embraces without a murmur, without a struggle. I had deliberately removed myself from the stark reality, had been cool and passive even as he thrust inside me repeatedly, exhausting himself in a frenzy of lust only to begin anew a short while later. I had told myself it was happening to someone else, and I seemed to observe things from a great distance, aloof and untouched, removed. That feeling of calm detachment had remained when he turned me over to the pirates, haggling with Quince over the price and finally accepting far less than he had anticipated.

  All the while the resolution had grown inside me, and I could' feel strength building steadily. I had survived horror before, and I would survive this, too. I had already found a strong ally in Em, My first objective, as was hers, was to avoid being shipped to South America with the rest of the women. Life on the island would be rugged indeed, but it would be better than its alternative, and escape would be a much greater possibility, particularly if we succeeded in making our captors believe we were resigned to our fates and intent only on making the best of things. I had no doubt Em would be able to fascinate the man she selected as her protector, but would I be able to fascinate the notorious Red Nick? I certainly hadn't fetched the price Hart had been expecting, and none of these men had shown the least interest in me, preferring the plump Bessie, the thin and haughty Nadine. Em said my beauty was too refined to appeal to this particular group of men. Would it appeal to Red Nick? If it didn't, I was in a great deal of trouble,

  "Don't even consider it," Em said.

  "Consider what?"

  "Failure, luv. You've been sittin' there so silent, thinking, and I saw doubt in your eyes just now. You think he might not fancy you. There's not a chance of that, luv. The minute he sees you he's going to be hooked good and proper."

  "What are you two talking about?" Nadine asked sharply.

  "Nothing that concerns you, luv."

  "You're planning, something, I can tell. You think you're so smart, both of you. You think you're going to escape. You haven't a prayer, but when that Red Nick person finds out who I am he'll turn me loose immediately. Daddy will reward him handsomely."

  "Dream on, luv. You'll soon be spreading those skinny legs of yours for a flock of foreign-speakin' gents who couldn't care less who your daddy is. If they have any sense, they'll put a sack over your head first."

  "You bitch!"

  Em ignored the insult. Nadine sulked petulantly, her mouth pursed most unattractively, her light green eyes full of hostility. The men poled the boats out of the watery tunnel and across a sea of wavy gray-brown grass, the water not more than two of three feet deep here. Directly ahead of us, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, a strip of solid land stretched as far as the eye could see. It was heavily wooded, tall palm trees towering over the others. We reached it a short while later, and Dobbs and Tremayne leaped out, dragging the boat out of the water and ordering us to get out. Soon we were trudging through the trees. The horrible fetid smell was gone now, and the air was laced with a salty tang. The ground beneath our feet was solid, no longer damp and spongy. The swamps were behind us, the coast somewhere up ahead.

  We took another short break. Dobbs and Ginty passed canteens around, allowing us only a brief swallow each. I took the opportunity to give Bessie one of the pieces of dried beef I had hidden. She accepted it silently, eyes staring blankly. Although I had tried to do it surreptitiously, Nadine saw me give the food to the girl and rushed over to report it to Quince, hoping to ingratiate herself. She received a fierce slap across the mouth for her efforts, and I waited for Quince to come over with his whip. He didn't even turn around to glance in our direction, clearly he had other things on his mind.

  "That was a close one," Em said, standing beside me. "Nadine is a real prize, isn't she? If there's one thing I hate more than a hypocrite, it's a bloody squealer. She's going to get hers, all right, it's inevitable."

  "You're gonna get yours, too," Tremayne told her.

  Neither of us had noticed the muscular young pirate standing nearby, and I paled as I realized he, too, must have seen me give the food to Bessie. He stood in front of us now, hands on hips, but he didn't pay the least attention to me. He had eyes only for fim, and they were filled with appreciation of her raffish charms.

  "Oh?" she said.

  "Tonight," he retorted.

  "You'll have to fight Dobbs and Ginty, luv. Both of them have staked a claim."

  "Neither of 'em are gonna tangle with me, wench. I'm Red Nick's second-in-command."

  "You are?"

  "I'm over all these louts. Quince, he wields the whip, but me, I got the authority. I don't like anything, all I gotta do is say the word to Red Nick. He hasn't been happy with these roundups, the men were losing too many women. He sent me along this time to keep an eye on things, make a special report."

  "Then you must live on the island?"

  "Have my own place right across the courtyard from Red Nick's."

  "How fascinating," Em remarked.

  "You can forget about Dobbs and Ginty, wench. Tonight you're gonna share a blanket with me."

  "I can hardly wait, luv."

  Tremayne strolled away, his broad shoulders rolling under the snug blue and gray striped jersey. A blissful smile played on Em's small pink mouth, and her hazel eyes were positively aglow with delight.

  "There you are," she said, "and he's not bad-looking either, nice features, wicked brown eyes, a magnificent physique. I couldn't be happier about it. After tonight he's not about to let me be shipped to Rio."

  Quince cracked his whip and ordered us to get back in line, and we continued our march. The light was gradually fading, taking on a faint pinkish tint. The smell of salt was stronger now, a distinct tang that was marvelously refreshing. Palm fronds rattled overhead, and we were able to move much faster now that the ground was solid and there were no roots and vines to obstruct us. We marched for perhaps half an hour before the light turned dark orange, streaming through the trees in rapidly fading rays. The light was almost gone when I heard the roar of waves slapping over sand. Darkness had fallen entirely when we stumbled through the last line of trees and onto me broad beach.

  "Thank God that's over," Em said. "No more alligators. Now all we have to worry about is sharks. I hear these waters are alive with 'em. I wonder if they ever sneak up on the beach?"

  "I doubt it, Em."

  "Never can tell. They're awfully sly and crafty."

  Most of the women sank onto the sand in exh
austion. The pirates gathered up driftwood and lighted three fires that soon were blazing in crackling red-orange fury. Water and food were distributed, a paltry amount of the latter. Em and I were grateful for the extra we had been able to hide earlier on, although it didn't go far as we shared it with Bessie and the young Negro girl who huddled beside us. Her name was Corrie, and she had a frail, delicate beauty. The fires had begun to burn down when the pirates selected their partners for the night. Tremayne tapped Em on the shoulder and gave her a curt nod, indicating a spot beneath one of the palm trees. Nadine ran shrieking back toward the trees as Dobbs approached her. He lunged after her, slinging an arm around her throat and dragging her back.

  Bessie, Corrie, and I were unmolested. We shivered miserably under the heavy blankets the pirates had tossed us, for the night was cold, the wind blowing over the water icy and unrelenting. Bessie sobbed in her sleep. Corrie continued to shiver. I finally managed to fall asleep despite the crash of the waves and the lurid sounds of coupling punctuated by screams. A faint golden streak was visible on the horizon when I woke. Em was shaking my shoulders. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Everyone else was asleep, several of the pirates snoring.

  "I found out all about him," she whispered. "He has a woman, her name is Maria, but here's the important part, luv—he's tired of her. She gives herself airs, has gotten much too big for her breeches. That's what Michael says."

  "Michael?"

  "Michael Tremayne, luv. Who did you think I meant? He says Red Nick has his eye out for a replacement. Oh, luv, look! There's the ship! There on the horizon. Can you see it?"

  She pointed. As the golden streak spread, spangling the water with flecks of dancing light, we could see the ship approaching. We watched in silence, and soon we could see the flag waving high on the tallest mast. It was solid black, and as it snapped in the wind we could see the skull and crossbones quite clearly. The ship stopped, riding the waves as anchor was dropped. Boats were lowered. Red Nick had come to pick up his goods.