Chapter Five
The red gold of the setting sun was hidden by the heavy, gray clouds which hung over the wharves. Long shadows were forming into a haze, obscuring the topmost sails of the tall ships which lined the waterfront. Here and there, the yellow gold of a lantern dotted the buildings and illuminated the oily windows of the merchants’ shops crowding the docks.
Jacobus and the Rana’s crew stood at the rail watching Sirena and Caleb climb from the carriage which had brought them from the academy. Sirena’s green eyes were flashing angrily and the delicate line of her jaw was grim and determined. Even from this distance, Jacobus could see something was wrong.
Caleb was taking long strides to match her furious pace. Caleb. The boy was now a man, forged in his father’s likeness. The beauty of height was there as was the magnificent breadth of shoulders. There was no doubt he was Regan’s son. Except that the boy’s hair was dark where Regan’s was the color of winter wheat; the seed hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Frau Holtz hurried to the rail for a glimpse of Caleb. She, too, saw immediately that Sirena was behaving strangely. The old woman brought her hand to her mouth and shivered inwardly. Sirena was walking as though she were a puppet and invisible strings were attached to her limbs.
Sirena moved up the gangplank keeping her gaze straight ahead, neither looking right nor left. Jacobus eyed her warily and with a slight motion of his hand warned the others to remain quiet. He knew that burning look, and it struck a chord of warning within him.
“Hoist anchor,” Sirena said tersely. “We sail for Spain.” With a nod to Caleb, she moved jerkily toward her quarters and a change of garments.
Caleb, his expression forbidding and unreadable, nodded slightly to the crew and held out his hand to Franco, the second mate.
“You’ve grown, boy,” Franco said quietly. “School must have agreed with you.”
“It’s good to have you aboard again, Caleb,” Jan welcomed him softly.
“The last time these old eyes saw you, you were a mere child. And now you’re a strapping young man. We missed you,” Jacobus grinned. “It’s good to have another pair of reliable hands aboard. Welcome back.”
Frau Holtz gathered him to her bosom in a motherly embrace and was momentarily startled that it was her head resting against Caleb’s chest and not the other way around. Standing on tiptoe she whispered, “I must talk with you. Now!” she added urgently.
The crew busied themselves readying the Rana for departure, having taken on stores as soon as they had made port earlier that day. Soon the frigate’s tightly strung sails billowed and thumped as they caught the early-evening breeze.
Frau Holtz led Caleb to her cabin. “What is it? What happened back at the school—and don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?” Her voice took on the harsh note it always did when she knew something was troubling her Mevrouw.
Caleb debated for a moment before speaking. His gut churned as he tried to find the right words to answer the housekeeper. “Sirena ... Sirena, for the first time in her life has ... No, Frau Holtz. It’s not my place to discuss it with anyone. Sirena will have to tell you.”
The elderly woman looked at Caleb and grimaced. “I see they taught you many things at your fancy academy. I admire your loyalty to the Mevrouw; but, perhaps, if you were to tell me what it is that’s troubling her, the crew and I could help.”
“Frau Holtz, at this moment there is no one on this earth who can help Sirena. You must believe me when I tell you this. For now, she must work it through in her own mind. Nobody, not even you and least of all me, can help her.”
“And you learned all this from books?” the housekeeper asked snidely, indignant to be excluded from Sirena’s troubles.
Caleb grinned. “No, Frau Holtz. Not books. You must remember Sirena was my teacher for a long time. I learned many things from her, things that I ... Never mind. It’s not important for you to know what I learned from Sirena or my books.”
“You may have been taught many things, but the lesson you have learned best is your father’s arrogance! Be careful, young man. that you’re wise enough to handle this haughtiness. You may look like a man and you may act like a man, but are you a man in here where it counts?” she challenged, jabbing her finger repeatedly into his chest.
Caleb laughed. “Make no mistake, Frau Holtz. Boyhood is far behind me. And,” he said coolly, “I am my own man. I make my own decisions and I lead my own life.”
“Brave words,” the Frau noted petulantly, taken aback. Caleb’s smile was so like Regan’s. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you are now a master in the art of self-defense and can handle a weapon as well as the Mevrouw and the Mynheer.”
“But of course,” Caleb teased, assuming an air of self-importance to irritate her. “I have earned several medals at the academy for fencing. I am considered an expert!” he exclaimed confidently.
Frau Holtz could feel the iron-gray hairs at the back of her neck stand out with her agitation. These van der Rhys men were all alike, loving the sport of needling her to distraction! Although she knew he had purposely exasperated her, she believed his statement about the medals implicitly. Could Sirena’s pupil and Regan’s son be anything less than an expert with the rapier?
“May we talk later, Frau Holtz? I could never climb the rigging in these foppish garments.” He smiled as he looked upward to the crow’s nest and the old housekeeper was again struck by his handsomeness. The virile ruggedness of Regan’s features was clearly evident, but Caleb had also inherited dark eyes and hair from his Javanese mother. Along with her exotic coloring, he had received a certain gentleness in the soft tilt near the corners of his eyes and a sensuousness in the pout of his lower lip. Regan’s handsomeness and Tita’s loveliness had spawned in Caleb a refined elegance which, while totally masculine, was still no less than beautiful. Tall and broad-shouldered with the flat stomach and lean haunches of youth; a noble head held proudly by the strong column of his neck and dark hair with warm, golden glints that was thick with a tendency to unruliness. A high, intelligent brow accentuating sensitive eyes. Frau Holtz suffered a twinge of sympathy for the women who would throw themselves at Caleb’s feet. And if he followed in Regan’s footsteps, which Frau Holtz was certain would be the case, it would take the most remarkable of girls to snare that wild heart. As remarkable and magnificent as the Mevrouw, the Frau smiled to herself, and then beware young Caleb. for your fate will be sealed by a pair of honeyed lips and smooth limbs.
“Frau Holtz,” Caleb’s voice broke her thoughts, “I’m so glad you agreed to accompany Sirena.” His tone was soft and intimate. On a sudden impulse, he leaned down to kiss her warmly on the cheek before going below to change clothes.
“Young whelp,” the Frau muttered to herself, gently touching the spot where Caleb’s lips had touched her. He has no right to return looking like he does, she grumbled inwardly in the way of the aged when the young are grown, leaving them without a child to nurture and guide. The world wasn’t ready for two van der Rhys men.
At loose ends, Frau Holtz sought out toothless Jacobus and complained bitterly of her inactivity and fears that something was wrong with the Mevrouw.
“Aye. I, too, saw the odd expression in the Capitana’s eyes. Agh! It does no good to worry and speculate. All in good time. She’s not so proud that she won’t ask for help if she needs it. She knows we’re here and she has only to ask. Amazing how the boy has grown, eh? He’s a fine figure of a man Resembles his father.”
“In more ways than you know,” Frau Holtz commented. “I wish I knew why we were going to Spain. I’ve been accustomed to an orderly life, not this seafaring way I’m being forced to cope with. I feel like a water gypsy without a home. I’m too old for this.”
“We’re all growing old. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I wanted solid ground beneath my feet, but my bones are beginning to ache and my eyesight’s not what it used to be. I’ve been giving serious thought to becoming a landlubber. If you’ve a mind to, we could set up housekeeping on some small island,” Jacobus said wickedly.
“That will be the day!” Frau Holtz responded haughtily. “What would a fine woman like myself want with a toothless old man?” To add emphasis to her words, she let loose with a high-flying blow in the direction of Jacobus’ ear.
“Who knows?” Jacobus smiled, dodging her cuff. “If you change your mind, let me know so I can prepare myself for the wedding.”
“Get your addled mind on sailing this ship,” the housekeeper said tartly as her face flushed a rosy hue. “I’ve no mind to end my life in these waters.”
“I’m not a sailor, I’m the cook!”
“Then go and see to your galley,” she answered over her shoulder as she flounced off in the direction of her cabin. Her first marriage proposal—and it had to come from a toothless old man who admitted his eyesight was failing. She sniffed to herself as she looked at her graying hair in her mirror, smoothing the coronet of braids she wore atop her head. A slow smile crept onto her lips. At least she could go to her grave knowing she had received one proposal.
Alone in her cabin, Sirena refused to allow her mind to dwell on the heart-stopping information she had received this afternoon. She concentrated on the tasks at hand and, for the moment, that consisted of freeing herself from the lengthy row of fabric-covered buttons running down her gown.
Sirena had taken special care with her toilet earlier that day in her eagerness to appear unchanged to Caleb’s eyes when she went to see him at the school. After a much-needed bath to cleanse her skin of the spindrift, she had taken extra pains with her dress. Frau Holtz had spent hours with a heavy flatiron, pressing the folds from a deep-gold afternoon gown with intricate ruching around the neck and sleeves. Petticoat after petticoat met with the Frau’s sizzling iron and the steam rose from her table and heated her cheeks into a fiery red. While Sirena had dressed her luxurious, ebony hair into a modish style atop her head, leaving a long hank to curl winsomely over her shoulder, the Frau had fussed with the frothy wisp of veiling which decorated the feminine version of the wide-brimmed Cavalier’s hat Sirena had chosen to wear.
Now her rakish chapeau was carelessly thrown on her bunk; its crisp veiling had wilted in the dank, moisture-laden air and its curling feather looked as tired as she felt. When she had changed into her abbreviated costume and tied her blouse tightly beneath her voluptuous bosom, she reached for her high-heeled black kid boots and pulled them on over her slim, well-shaped calves up to her long, supple thighs. She would not think about what Caleb had told her. She would concentrate on her ship and her crew. Once the Rana’s wheel was in her hands, her world would be right side up. She clenched and unclenched her hands as she paced the narrow confines of the cabin, her heels beating out a tattoo of emotions.
How much could one person be expected to bear in this lifetime? How in God’s name had she allowed this to happen to her? Was it her fault? Was Regan to blame? Don’t think about it, she warned herself, as she continued to pace distractedly. Did it matter whose fault it was? All that counted was that Regan no longer loved her and had divorced her.
Her shoulders shuddered convulsively and tears gathered in her eyes. Didn’t Regan realize how much she loved him? So many times he had told her of his love for her. How could he cast her aside like a stale cigar and leave her to smolder to ashes.
The quivering shoulders grew still. She relaxed her hands and ceased pacing. Was she or was she not a woman? The taut shoulders relaxed and her hands grew limp. Her emerald eyes sparkled momentarily and then grew misty again. Time. Time was the answer.
Suddenly her shoulders slumped and tears again threatened to well her eyes. Regan would find another to hold in his strong arms. His soft words of love would be whispered in the ear of some other woman.
A sob caught in her throat. How could a love like theirs die? A vision of a faceless female in Regan’s embrace swam before her. “No!” she cried in torment. “No, no, no!” The pain in her breast was sharper than any knife wound. “No!” she screamed and her cry held the anguish of all the women who had gone before her when they had lost their lovers.
It was Caleb who heard her high-pitched wail first, and it was he who grasped Willem’s arm to restrain him from running to the Capitana. “She is in no danger. Leave her. When she comes up on deck you will see she will be in control of herself. She needs this time alone.” Willem glanced at Caleb, a look of wonderment in his eyes.
Jan’s expression questioned Willem as they watched Caleb stalk across the deck. His bronzed skin glowed in the last light of day and his surefooted stance was all too familiar. Mynheer van der Rhys had stood like that on the deck of his burning ship, stripped to the waist, his breeches tattered at the knees, a grim, purposeful expression on his chiseled features.
Away from the cloud-shrouded coast of Holland, the sea’s fresh winds dusted away the low fog and the red glow of the setting sun reflected off the calm, azure sea through the sterncastle’s mullioned windows. Sirena glanced about and then headed for the deck. She relieved Jan at the wheel and shouted her orders. “Look to the sky, there’s a storm blowing in from the west. Full speed away,” she called. “If we’re in luck, we might be able to outrun her by changing course. Caleb,” she yelled harshly, “why are you standing about? Move! Anyone who sails on my ship must do his share of the work!”
Caleb, who had been coiling a length of rope, straightened and stared at Sirena. She was tightly strung and boiling with determination. Still, she had never taken her vengeance out on him and this new, bitter note in her voice when she addressed him pierced his heart. He clenched his teeth and bent to his task. The line secure, he nestled himself in the shrouds, beyond the reach of Sirena’s attention.
From this level, Caleb could observe Sirena as she held her stance at the wheel. She was a magnificent seaman. The sea and the approaching storm would never beat her. There was a time when Caleb would have said that nothing in this world could best Sirena. But that had been before Mikel’s death and this treachery of Regan’s. Sirena had always said that no man would ever get the better of her. Regan divorcing her had proved how wrong she had been and now she would have to come to terms with it. In his heart, Caleb knew that she would never, could never, accept it. Without Regan, Sirena would be an empty shell. And what of Regan without Sirena? Was he whole? Would he find life to his liking without her? For one brief moment Caleb pitied Regan. Then, setting his jaw, he decided he would no longer take sides. They couldn’t keep playing him like a string on a fiddle. Whatever they would do, they would do it without him!
Watching the nearing storm, Sirena picked up the horn near the wheel and shouted orders. “All hands to the deck to secure ship!”
The wind howled in the rigging as she steered the frigate under closely reefed sails. She kept her bow pointed into the wind as much as possible. Gigantic waves spun by the gale into curly, white combers rolled continuously from the west. Spindrift flew in flakes, stinging Sirena’s face as she fought the wheel.
Nature’s fury demanded her full attention. Hands gripping the wheel, all other thoughts fleeing her mind, she stood erect and brazened the onslaught. Lightning flashed, illuminating the horizon. Spectral clouds assumed violent shapes and scudded across the sky. Rain had not yet begun to pelt the decks, but it was out there waiting for her. Sirena knew the rain was her enemy, just as the fizzing sea foam whipped by the winds was, just as Regan was now her enemy. Rain could beat the strength out of a man, wearing and draining his vitality bit by bit, sip by sip, like a vampire draining life’s blood. It could choke off a man’s air by driving in solid sheets, whipping up the nostrils and down the throat. The rain could pound a helmsman from the wheel and the wind could lure a ship onto a certain course of destruction.
Fleetingly, her mind questioned one method of destruction versus another. Regan or the storm? Which was worse? For now, the storm, she answered herself. Fearing the worst, she lashed herself to the wheel with a length of narrow sailcloth.
The rains came and Sirena, blinded by the savage downpour, kept the Rana to its heading by instinct. Her body was battered by the elements and her hair came loose and beat against her face, twisting about her neck like insistent, strangling fingers. When physical strength began to fail, an iron will to survive became her mainstay. She must see Regan again. She must hear from his own lips that he no longer loved her. She must see his face, touch him. “Damn your soul to Hell, Regan van der Rhys!” Sirena screamed. “You’re mine! Mine!” And her howl was matched by the furies of the storm.
The wind buffeted Caleb against the quarterdeck rail and only by taking a fast hold on the rigging was he able to pull himself across the deck to Sirena. “I came to help,” he shouted to be heard above the elements.
“I don’t need your aid,” Sirena shouted, never taking her eyes from the sea swells.
“You’re tiring. Let me take the wheel. This is no time for you to play Conquistadora. Now hand the wheel over to me! I’ll get behind you and loosen your bindings. Get ready!”
“Get back to your post! An error on your part allowing her to lay broadside and broach will be the end of us! We cannot change positions now. Hear me well, Caleb! I captain this ship. When I have need of your assistance, I’ll ask for it!” she shouted above the howling winds. “And,” she added ominously, “don’t interfere in my affairs again!”
Caleb gave her a long, level look and made his way back to his former position. Tons of water suddenly crashed onto the frigate’s decks, threatening to stave in her hatches. The massive onslaught of water crashed upon him just as he grasped the rigging.
Sirena called out, but was too late. She watched the water pick Caleb up and swoop him down the deck. She screamed but knew the sound did not reach the crew. “Please, God, let him be all right,” she prayed. “If it weren’t for you, Regan, I wouldn’t be here battling a storm with your son. If he drowns, it will be on your conscience, not mine!”
It was nearly an hour before Sirena ran the frigate before the wind to the northeast and into calm water. “Caleb . . . Caleb, where are you?”
“Up here, Sirena. Were you worried about me?” came a weak answer from the quarterdeck.
“Of course I was worried. I’m responsible for every man aboard my ship.”
“For a moment I hoped you were concerned for me personally,” Caleb retorted bitterly. Sirena offered no reply as she loosened the bindings which held her to the wheel.
“Now you can take over,” she said to Caleb, “until I get someone up here to take your place.” She watched as he made his way forward, his body drenched, his dark hair falling low on his forehead. How like Regan he looked. She stood a moment and watched as he planted his feet firmly. The hard, sinewy muscles in his arms bunched as he straightened his shoulders, grasping the wheel securely. He was as tall as Regan and almost as muscular. Sirena felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched him, his mouth grim, his dark eyes angry and smoldering.
Caleb noticed her walk away, no words spoken between them. Her shoulders slumped slightly and her arms hung limply at her sides. She stumbled once and rejected Willem’s arm when he extended it. From his position, Caleb watched her bring the back of her hand to her eyes to wipe at her tears. He couldn’t help her. Only Regan could do that and he was far away living a new life.
Frau Holtz clucked and crooned as she assisted Sirena in shedding her sodden clothing. The older woman wrapped a towel around her mistress’ wet hair and made her comfortable on the hard, narrow bunk.
As if by magic, Jacobus appeared at the door with two steaming cups of coffee. “I laced them liberally with rum. The Capitana appears to need it. And,” he said grinning toothlessly, “this is a gift of love.” He handed the Frau the second mug. “The first of many,” he quipped as he backed hastily out of the doorway, reading the woman’s intention of dashing the scalding brew at him.
Comfortable and dry, the hot mug in her hands, Sirena leaned back on the bunk, her long, tawny legs curled beneath her. “I see many questions in your face, Frau Holtz.”
“And I see strange things in your eyes, Mevrouw. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll not ask any questions.”
Sirena sipped at the coffee and spoke carefully. She exerted great effort to keep her countenance blank and her eyes unreadable. This ache was solely hers and she did not need anyone to share the burden. “Regan went to Spain, secured my holdings, and then he set sail for Holland, where he divorced me. I no longer have my inheritance nor my husband. He plans to pension me off, using my money.”
“Mevrouw! What are you talking about?” Frau Holtz asked fearfully.
Suddenly all Sirena’s control dissolved. “Didn’t you hear me? Regan divorced me.”
“Bah! I will never believe that. He loves you like no man has loved a woman. Didn’t he chase you halfway around the world to prove it to you?”
“That was a long time ago. This is the present!”
“Then why are we going to Spain? What are you going to do? It would seem to me that if the Mynheer is in Holland that’s where we should have stayed.”
Sirena took another drink before replying, “At this moment I’m as near destitute as a person can be. I have nothing save this ship and my personal belongings. I must see my family’s solicitor and guardian of the family’s estates.”
“But, Mevrouw, you just told me the Mynheer has confiscated everything.”
Poor Frau Holtz. Sirena had never seen her so staggered with shock. Not even on the night when Mikel was born and she had had to relinquish Sirena’s welfare to the wizened, black African midwife. “True, Frau. Regan has, by law, the right to my inheritance. But I am hoping that Tio Esteban will have kept my mother’s fortunes intact. The law reads that Regan is entitled to the Córdez wealth, I’m hoping the Valdez fortunes from my mother’s side of the family do not come under that requirement. Poor Tio Esteban, I can imagine his shock when Regan presented himself to claim my property.”
“Forgive me, Mevrouw, but are your holdings from the Valdez family as great as those your husband controls?”
“Dear lady, remember Regan is no longer my husband,” Sirena reminded bitterly. “And yes, the Valdez fortune is even greater than that of the Córdez. The reason it has remained intact was my father refused to accept one peseta of my mother’s inheritance. He said he was a young man and capable of making a living and building his own fortunes.”
“What will you do?” the Frau asked, wringing her hands in sympathy. She knew the loss of the estates meant nothing to Sirena. It was the loss of Regan’s love which could deal a lethal blow. “Will we stay in Spain? Have you given any thought to the future?”
“What future, old friend? Everything escapes me save for the fact that Regan has divorced me. I can’t think beyond that point. When I speak with Tio Esteban, then I’ll make my decisions. Have no fear, we won’t make our home aboard ship. I know how you yearn for solid ground beneath your feet.”
“And Caleb? What of the young man? Where will he go, what will he do?”
Frau Holtz watched Sirena’s green eyes cloud. “I’m certain Caleb will see to his own future. He claims to be a man, let him act like one.”
“He’s a magnificent youth. A replica of his father.”
“Yes,” Sirena sighed. “He’s seen the best and worst of his father and the best and worst of me. Let us hope he has learned wisely from his experiences with both of us.”
“He’s gone further than that,” Frau Holtz said with a touch of awe, remembering her conversation with Caleb when he first boarded the Rana. “He’s quite knowledgeable in book learning and he claims he is a master of fencing, having won many medals.”
“Has he now?” Sirena said with interest. “Perhaps we can have a small exhibition for the crew. I’d like to see for myself how much he has learned.”
“I have a feeling, Mevrouw, that you might be surprised at what the young man has learned. He’s more confident than his father at the same age. I knew it was a mistake to send him to school. I told the Mynheer that it was a mistake. Did he listen to me? No. He said Caleb needed to be educated and the boy certainly is that.”
“Frau Holtz, with growth comes knowledge. We must accept the fact that Caleb is no longer a boy but a man. I know how your arms ache to hold a child,” Sirena’s voice became softer, almost a whisper as she thought of little Mikel. “But for Caleb’s sake, accept the fact that he’s now a man,” she repeated, her voice again strong and confident.
“Somehow I could accept it more readily if he didn’t act and look so like the Mynheer,” Frau Holtz said sourly, inadvertently reflecting Sirena’s own feelings.