Crack!
A plume of smoke rose from the barrel of Nathaniel’s pistol, and he coughed at the acrid cloud that blew back in his face.
Mr. Hendrick shrieked, patted his chest for wounds, then allowed his gaze to follow the direction in which Nathaniel’s pistol was pointed. “You fired into the air.” His incredulous tone was edged with relief.
Nathaniel shrugged and tossed the vile weapon to the sand. “You’re not worth having a man’s death on my conscience.”
Grunts and curses flooded over him. Captain Poole belched and shook his head, glaring at Nathaniel.
But Nathaniel cared not. No one had been killed, especially not him. Thank You, Lord. The pirates were not so pleased. They cursed and spat onto the sand, then shot glances at Nathaniel as if he had deprived them of their only entertainment for a month.
“Aw, what kind o’ duel be that? No one be dead!”
“I say we make ’em do it over,” another pirate with a silver ring in one ear and one eye sewn shut shouted toward Nathaniel.
“Be gone with ye!” Captain Poole waved the crowd aside as he marched into the center. “Nothing more to see here.” His men dispersed and ambled away, calling in bets and exchanging coins with clanks and chinks as they went, one of them grumbling, “Perish and plague me, I knew he wouldn’t kill ’im.”
Major Paine took a wide swath around the pirate captain, casting him a dubious look, and stood beside his still-trembling friend.
Gavin gave Nathaniel a disapproving glance. “Sink me, man. Why didn’t you kill him?” He scratched his whiskers. “He would not have hesitated to kill you if he’d possessed a better aim.”
“There is no need to take the man’s life.” Nathaniel released a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.
Gavin stared at Nathaniel as if he had just walked on water. “Of course there is. Especially when the man is a blubbering, pompous toad.”
Captain Poole chuckled. “A truer word as e’er were spoke.”
“The pistol was faulty,” Mr. Hendrick whined.
Nathaniel’s gaze locked upon Hope, a few yards behind him. Elise stood at her side, clutching her skirts. Even from a distance, he could see the relief and joy beaming from Hope’s expression.
Gavin thrust his face toward Mr. Hendrick. “Instead of complaining, sir, you should thank Mr. Mason for his charity. I daresay you would not have received such grace from me.”
“Nor from me,” Captain Poole added with a grunt. He picked up Mr. Hendrick’s pistol from the sand and studied it for a moment. “Ye were beat fair, Hendrick. And as I sees it, ye owe this man yer life.”
Mr. Hendrick winced, but the firm line of his jaw and the hard glint to his eyes spoke of his obstinate dissent.
Dismissing him with a wave, Captain Poole took a turn about Nathaniel, examining his back and chest. “Split me sides, but I saw the man’s aim. ’Twas dead on. At six paces an’ even wit’ the unsure accuracy of these metallic beasts, he should o’ clipped ye at least.” Turning, he glared at the major. “Ye there. Give me some powder and shot.”
“What is your intent, Captain?” The major’s eyes flitted across the group, and he took a step back.
“None of yer business, ye half-masted cockerel. Now give them to me, or I’ll put a shot betwixt yer ears.”
The major’s sunburned face blanched. He fished in his pocket, pulled out the powder container and a ball, and hurried over to hand them to the pirate.
After loading and priming the pistol, Captain Poole took a few steps away from the group, cast a glance over his shoulder toward where Hope, Elise, and Abigail stood, then cocked and aimed the weapon at a palm tree a few feet down shore. “See them coconuts?” Without awaiting a response, he closed one eye and pulled the trigger. A resounding crack whipped through the air, and a coconut thudded to the sand. He eyed the weapon, batting away the smoke. “Nothing wrong with this pistol, Hendrick.” He stuffed it into his breeches. “Either you are a horrible shot and a worse liar, or this man should have a hole in him.”
“’Twas God’s doing.” Abigail’s voice shot over them. Captain Poole spun on his heels, his face lighting up as he watched the lady approach.
Abigail reached Nathaniel’s side, then shifted her eyes to Captain Poole. Nathaniel tensed, praying she knew what she was doing. Behind her, Hope and Elise inched their way toward the group.
“God, you say?” Captain Poole cocked his head and studied Abigail with interest.
“You have proven, Captain, that the pistol is not faulty,” she began, her tone a paragon of confident tranquility. “We have Mr. Hendrick’s testimony that he is an expert marksman, and why would he lie under these circumstances? And we have Mr. Mason here without a mark on him. What other explanation would you give?”
Captain Poole circled Abigail, fingering the stubble on his chin. A sly grin slithered over his lips. Abigail stood tall, her chestnut hair dancing idly down her back in the breeze. She brushed a few strands from her forehead with the back of her hand and commanded his gaze.
“A wise conclusion, miss,” Captain Poole said. “I’ve forgotten yer name.”
“Sheldon. Abigail Sheldon.”
“Ah, Miss Sheldon. I should like to discuss this further with ye, if ye don’t mind.” He proffered his arm as though he would escort her to a ball.
Abigail froze; her jaw quivered. Nathaniel took her arm and eased her away from the pirate.
“Have ye two wives now, Mr. Mason?” Captain Poole snapped. He dropped his arm to his side. “I wish only to speak with the lady. Ye shall be rid of me soon enough. We set sail on the morrow and shall be no more of your concern.”
Gavin moved to stand beside Hope in a protective gesture that grated over Nathaniel. Ignoring it, he fixed his gaze upon the captain, both pleased and alarmed at the man’s declaration to leave. “So soon?”
“Ye’ll miss me, eh?” Captain Poole eyes sparkled with mischief. “Seems ye’ve picked this island clean of fruit. And we’ve loaded up all the water we need. There be naught left for us here.”
“Will you take us to Kingstown, then?” Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest and risked pricking the capricious pirate’s ire. He had no choice. He had no idea when another ship would arrive.
The captain inhaled a deep breath as if he were trying to calm his temper, then nodded toward his ship. “Does that look like a passenger ship to ye, Mr. Mason?” He ground the words out through his teeth, but then he gazed at his ship, and his face softened with pride. “Nay, that be the Enchantress—named for me last wife. And with that beauty, me and me crew have taken three merchantmen, two East Indiamen, one Spanish argosy, a Dutch fluyt, and a German barque.” He seemed to grow taller with the mention of each conquest, then leaned toward Nathaniel and raised one brow. “Now if ye and yer friend here and those two”—he motioned toward Hanson and Kreggs—“wish to join me crew, then we have somethin’ to discuss.”
“I can’t speak for these others, but I am no pirate, Captain Poole,” Nathaniel said without hesitation.
“Too good for the trade, eh?”
“Mr. Mason is a godly man, Captain.” Abigail raised her chin a notch. “Pirating would go against everything he believes in.”
“Saints’ blood.” Captain Poole waved his hands through the air, the lace at his cuffs fluttering in the breeze. “This island’s crawlin’ with godly people. Where have I landed, Christ’s Church, London?”
Gavin chuckled and then coughed into his hand beneath Abigail’s stern glance.
“What of ye, sir?” Captain Poole directed his gaze at Gavin. “Be there pirate blood in ye?”
“I have yet to discover that, Captain.” Gavin winked. “But one never knows.”
“I thought so. I can see the fire of the brethren in yer eyes.” The captain clapped him on the back, the compliment molding over Gavin like the perfect fit of a garment.
“And ye two.” The captain swung about and faced Kreggs and Hanson. Fear skittered across Hanson’s face, but Kreggs shifted his stance and furrowed his brow. “We stick with Mr. Mason. He’s not led us astray thus far.”
Captain Poole turned a curious eye to Nathaniel. “Your men revere you. Such loyalty be hard to come by.” He studied Nathaniel as if searching for the reason, then shrugged. “Well, so be it. Ye can all stay on this bloomin’ island for all I care.”
“We are both able seamen.” Nathaniel gestured toward Gavin. “We will work your ship to pay for our passage as long as you don’t engage in any pillaging along the way.”
Captain Poole’s wicked, menacing laugh bristled the hair on Nathaniel’s arms. Instantly, his face turned to stone. “I don’t bargain with the likes of you.” He spat. But when he glanced at Abigail, the tight lines on his face softened. “I tell ye what. Allow me a moment with Miss Sheldon, and I’ll think on yer offer.”
“No.” Hope stepped forward. “Leave her be.” Abigail sent an appreciative glance toward her friend, and Hope gripped her hand.
“All I wish is to speak with her, an’ I’ll do it with or without yer permission or that o’ yer husband’s. Only if ye do give me yer blessin’, it may soften me mood when I consider yer offer.”
Over the pirate’s shoulder, Nathaniel saw Abigail nod her consent, though fear sparked in her wide eyes.
“Very well, Captain,” Nathaniel reluctantly agreed.
“There be some sense to ye.” Captain Poole proffered his arm again, and this time, Abigail released Hope and slipped her hand through it.
Nathaniel could do naught but clench his fists and say a prayer as he watched the two saunter away.
Abigail drew a breath, trying to quell the quaver in her voice and the tremble in her legs. “If you mean to assault me, Captain, I must warn you, I will put up a fight.”
“Promise?” Captain Poole gave a mischievous chuckle but then patted her hand, still hooked in the crook of his arm. “Ye’ve naught to fear from me.” She caught his gaze from the corner of her eyes—as dark and brooding as any she’d seen. “At least for the time being.” His lips curved slightly as he continued to lead her along the shore.
“What would you like to speak to me about, Captain?” His salacious dalliance unnerved her. She wouldn’t have agreed to this time alone with him, not even to stifle his temper and soften him to the idea of taking them to Kingstown, save for the fitful yearning she’d seen in his eyes. A questioning, a hopeless pleading that nipped at her heart.
A breeze picked up, bringing with it the scent of the sea and a whiff of rum and sweat from the man walking beside her. His boots crunched over the sand as he swerved away from the waves that crept toward them in arcs of restless foam.
After casting a glance over his shoulder, the captain led her to a boulder beneath a shady palm and gestured for her to sit. Abigail spotted Nathaniel standing on shore and was thankful for his careful watch. Not that there would be much he could do to stop this pirate from taking whatever he wanted, especially with his savage crew so close at hand.
The rising sun shot its blazing rays upon the island, and Abigail ran a hand over her moist neck, thankful for the shade and wondering how the pirate tolerated his velvet coat and breeches. Though seemingly undaunted by the heat, his expression bore evidence of a battle raging within his thoughts.
A breeze quivered the fronds of the palm above her until they sounded like the laughter of angels, reminding her that she was never alone. Silently, she thanked the Lord for the good outcome of the duel and for their safety thus far, and prayed for the right words to appease this volatile man beside her.
Captain Poole doffed his plumed hat and tossed it to the sand. His black hair fluttered in the wind over the golden ring in his ear, and she swallowed at the intense look in his dark, flashing eyes. Tall and broad shouldered, he would be a handsome man if not for the lines of cruelty that often marred his face.
Lowering her gaze beneath his perusal, she waited for him to begin.
He shifted his boots. “Yer a missionary.”
Abigail nodded.
“Ye speak of God as if ye know Him.” His tone was not accusatory, nor caustic, but carried a curiosity that both shocked and delighted Abigail.
“He can be known, Captain. He longs to be known.”
He scratched his chin and stared out at the sea. Abigail eyed the pistols stuffed in his baldric and breeches, the cutlass that hung at his side, and she knew this man had killed many men in his life. Never before had she been in the presence of such evil, yet at this moment, she felt no fear.
“I’m wonderin’ if ye would enlighten me with what ye know of Him,” he said without looking at her.
Abigail blinked. “You want to know about God?”
He cast a glance over his shoulder at Nathaniel, then thrust his face into hers. “Aye, as ye heard me say.”
A spark of unease shot through Abigail, but she stiffened her jaw. “What do you wish to know?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his coat flapping in the breeze behind him, and dug his boots in the sand as if preparing himself for a long discourse. “Start at the beginning.”