Blacksouls Page 8

  Coyle ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Perhaps to the fort.”

  She could hear the distinct clang of iron and the sound of a struggle, accompanied by the frenzied cheers of the throng. “We must go there.”

  “They won’t let us in, Anne. We’ll have to wait to see what’s to be done. Uncle Alastair will know what to do.”

  Wrenching free of Coyle’s grip, Anne dove through the mob, ducking between people as they followed the soldiers and the crew of the Deliverance. Along the way, several men reached for her, taking the opportunity to grope at her arms and chest, but Anne brought out her pistol. Anger and desperation lent her strength. Using the butt of the handle as a cudgel, she left more than a few of them in her wake, clutching their hands and howling in pain.

  But she was too late. By the time she reached the end of the crowded docks, the wagon had disappeared down one of the side streets.

  Shaking her head, she tried to breathe, but it felt like iron bands squeezed her chest. The crew of the Deliverance weren’t the ones who had unlawfully attacked a ship. Somehow, they’d managed to survive the assault, so why were Teach and his men being treated like criminals? What cruel twist of fate would bring Teach to Nassau, only to have him taken from her once more?

  The crowds slowly dispersed, going back to their normal routines on the busy waterfront. Anne stood motionless, unsure what to do next. Her mouth was dry and a headache started to coil behind her eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about Teach. He’d looked tired, but his face had lit up at the sight of her. She closed her eyes against the memory of the soldier hitting him in the stomach. She’d never seen Teach brought low by anyone, and the frustration and rage she’d felt was immediate.

  “Let’s go back to the Fox, Anne,” Cara said, putting her arm around Anne’s shoulders. Coyle nodded in agreement.

  They turned, but movement farther down the docks caught Anne’s attention. Glancing up, her pulse thudded darkly at the sight of slaves shuffling forward—men, women, and children—their ankles and wrists in chains as they disembarked from a ship. They were practically naked. Filthy rags hung from their limbs, barely covering them.

  Even from a distance, the sores and open wounds covering their skin were visible, with clouds of flies swarming the air around them. Like walking ghosts, they moved forward, their once proud spirits beaten into submission. There were no crowds to gawk at the sight. No gasps of shock or outrage at their treatment.

  “We have to do something” Anne said, her voice low and tremulous. Bile rose in her throat.

  Coyle hesitated, the color leaving his cheeks. “Let’s get back to the Fox, Anne.”

  One of the older slaves stumbled, his injured leg giving out beneath him. A man stepped forward, his pale skin mottled with pock scars and his clothing stained red. He wielded a braided leather whip and raised his arm to strike. Bright spots danced in front of Anne’s eyes and a roar in her ears drowned out the noise of the busy wharf as she squeezed the trigger of the unloaded pistol in her hand. The loud click of the hammer sounded like a clap of thunder. Heads turned in her direction, including the man with the cow skin.

  “What are you doing?” Coyle ground out. “Nobody knows that thing isn’t loaded. Do you want to get yourself arrested or killed?”

  Anne didn’t respond. She hadn’t realized her hands were on the trigger. Her gaze locked on the slaver. If it had been loaded, that man wouldn’t be staring at her with disgust and loathing. Instead, he would be flat on his back, bleeding out.

  “We should go,” Cara said, her voice subdued.

  Anne opened the leather pouch at her side, but Coyle’s hand closed over hers. “If you load it and shoot, they will hang you.”

  “If I don’t do something, who will?” Anne asked, gesturing to the people surrounding them.

  Coyle shook his head, a pained look in his eyes. “You won’t be able to help anyone if you’re dead. Especially not Teach.”

  Anne glared at Coyle, aware her anger wasn’t directed at him. He released her hand slowly, as if he still didn’t trust her not to act. She wasn’t sure herself.

  With a shaky breath, Anne turned, noticing for the first time the shiny black carriage stopped nearby, the lacquered sides gleaming in the sunlight. She froze when she saw the familiar face of Lord Pelham watching her with hooded eyes. Anne stared back at him without blinking, without moving, knowing that despite his expensive clothes and carriage, she stood face-to-face with a viper poised to strike.

  CHAPTER 11

  Teach

  Teach paced his cell in circles, like a wild animal in a cage. He rubbed the marks on his wrists where the irons had been, while the hammer of his own pulse caused his veins to hurt. His clothes had dried long ago, but his skin was itchy and tight from the saltwater. With each step, he deepened the path and scattered the straw strewn across the floor. Although the fort was fairly new, the ramparts already reeked of urine and fetid oil. Teach hadn’t touched the bread or water the jailer had left for him, completely absorbed in thought.

  Anne was alive. She was alive.

  Teach hadn’t even realized he’d taken a step in her direction until he’d felt the punishing blow of the musket. Grimacing, he tested the bruised skin on his stomach.

  Footsteps echoed down the stone hallway. Teach stopped his pacing and gripped the bars, rattling them, his knuckles white. Six soldiers appeared, armed with bayonets on the ends of their muskets.

  “Governor Webb would like to speak with you.”

  “I would be happy to speak with your governor, as soon as I know where the rest of my men are.” Teach didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice level, while his blood teemed with fury.

  Upon reaching shore, Peter had slipped away like a serpent in the grass, clearly wasting no time in reporting the mutiny on board the Deliverance. Some men had managed to blend into the crowd on the wharf, but once the soldiers had surrounded them, they’d been led to the wagon and taken to the fort. Teach’s hands tightened on the bars. He should have killed Peter when he had the chance.

  “Your men have been questioned individually. The governor now wishes to hear your report.”

  “What about the wounded?” Teach had promised they would receive something for the pain, and he didn’t want to go back on his word.

  “They’re receiving medical attention.”

  Teach didn’t believe him. “Where are they?”

  “Governor Webb will answer your questions. Now move back.”

  Slowly, Teach retreated. He watched in grim silence as one of the soldiers struggled with the cell door. When they’d locked him up, Teach had targeted the latch with a powerful blow from the heel of his boot. The soldiers had responded by threatening to shoot him if he didn’t behave.

  Wary, the lead soldier motioned for Teach to step forward. Once again, the irons closed on Teach’s ankles and wrists. He jerked his arms away, but felt the tip of a bayonet in the small of his back. “It makes no difference to me whether you live or die. If you hope to help your men, I suggest you do as the governor says.”

  Teach followed the soldiers back the way he had come a few hours prior. He wondered where Anne was now and how she fared. If only he could see her, hold her, kiss her. Assure himself that she was indeed real and not a figment of his imagination.

  Teach was led down a long, dark corridor and staircase illuminated by torches. They wound their way through the interior of the battlements, stopping in front of a large wooden door. One of the soldiers raised his hand and knocked. Someone called for them to enter.

  With irons clanging, Teach shuffled into the office. A large desk anchored the room, with sunlight and heat pouring through a small embrasure on the west wall. There was a map opened on the desk, its edges curling in the miserable humidity and heat. An ornate clock ticked the seconds, keeping time with Teach’s heartbeat, but otherwise the room was bare. There wasn’t even an extra chair for guests.

  No doubt the governor preferred his visit
ors to stand, while he lounged. Not that Teach minded. He didn’t want to spend another minute in this place. He wanted to get to Anne.

  Four of the soldiers escorted him in, while the other two remained outside the door. Teach would have laughed at the situation if he hadn’t been so frustrated. He was larger in stature, but they were armed and he was in chains.

  “Here he is, Governor Webb.”

  If it hadn’t been for the elaborate white wig perched on the governor’s head, Teach would have a hard time believing that the man seated at the desk was the most powerful man on the island. In fact, the governor looked quite ill. His skin had an unhealthy pallor and his shoulders barely seemed capable of holding up the sleeves of his embroidered long coat. The dark circles ringing his brown eyes told of sleepless nights.

  “Thank you. You and the others may wait outside.”

  Without another word, the four soldiers stepped out of the office, closing the door behind them. Teach watched them go, before turning back to the governor, only to find a pistol pointed at his chest.

  Teach’s stomach tightened and his shoulders stiffened. He’d been threatened before, but never by someone intended to keep the peace. Did the governor intend to dispense with the formality of a trial and simply shoot him outright?

  No. I have to get to Anne. Teach’s palms grew slick with sweat as he attempted to keep his expression neutral.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Edward Teach.”

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  “Tell me about the attack on your ship, Edward.” Despite his haggard appearance, the man still spoke with authority and he gave Teach an appraising look.

  Sweat rolled down Teach’s face and neck and the clock continued to count the seconds.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Teach blinked, unable to wipe at his eyes. “As we neared the islands, two ships lay in wait for us. We believed them to be either Spanish or Dutch.”

  “What led you to such a decision? In my experience, few pirates raise an ensign from where they’re berthed.”

  “They flew no flag. But we thought only the Spaniards or the Dutch would be bold enough to attack an English ship this close to port. In the end, it didn’t really matter who the ships belonged to. The attack was thwarted.”

  The governor lowered the pistol and tapped his fingers on the desktop, a lazy arpeggio. He measured his next words with the trembling rhythm, out of sync with the clock. “Who was captaining your ship at the time?”

  “Captain Murrell.” Teach answered with no hesitation. It was true, though it hadn’t stayed true for long.

  “And where is your captain now?”

  Where Peter should be. “At the bottom of the sea.”

  Governor Webb’s eyes narrowed at Teach’s dispassionate response. “Is it true what this Peter says? Did you lead a mutiny while on board the Deliverance?”

  “No.”

  “Another man supported his claim. Are you saying that because you know that mutiny is a capital offense?” Governor Webb’s voice was skeptical, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  All too aware that lives hung in the balance, Teach met the governor’s gaze unflinchingly. “No. I’m saying it because I did not lead a mutiny. Captain Murrell was unable to maintain control of the ship. Before the battle commenced, he relinquished his control to me.”

  “That’s not what Peter said transpired.”

  Tick. Tock.

  A vein began to pound at Teach’s right temple. Stay calm. He has no proof. “Peter wished to be made captain himself. I’m not surprised by his claim.”

  Governor Webb remained silent for a moment. Taking a white kerchief, he wiped his forehead and upper lip. It was stifling in the office. Teach could not understand why anyone would choose to spend much time in here.

  “I’ve spoken with the passengers,” Webb said. “They said Murrell was excessively cruel.”

  Teach knew firsthand how true that statement was. “Yes, sir.”

  “They also said you and the captain were constantly at odds.”

  It was no surprise that the passengers had noticed the tension on board the ship. Teach didn’t try to deny it. “His style of leadership did little to instill loyalty amongst the men.”

  “Your men are very loyal to you, Edward.”

  The way the governor said his name was patronizing. It reminded Teach of when his father spoke to him, and Teach felt his body temperature rise with each passing minute, his impatience escalating. “And I to them.” It was clear the other members of Teach’s crew had stuck to their story. Once Peter left the ship and Teach had realized the young man would make trouble, John had gone to each member of the crew to make sure their stories corroborated.

  “I sent out two ships of my own to try to intercept, but they must have missed you.”

  Interesting. Teach had seen no sails.

  Tick. Tock.

  “Despite the attack, I’m glad to see you arrived unharmed.”

  Teach made a scornful sound, his eyes narrowing. “I would hardly say we arrived unharmed. Seventeen of my men were injured. Seven died of their injuries before we made port.”

  Webb’s brow knotted. “And what about your cargo? Was it damaged?”

  “My cargo will be delivered as planned.”

  The governor stared at him in silence. Teach waited, the pounding in his temple increasing with each second. The moment lengthened uncomfortably, until Webb finally spoke. “You must be a remarkable captain to maintain command of such an exceptional ship.”

  Richard Drummond would be pleased by the fact that even here, the Deliverance was viewed with respect and admiration. Teach didn’t know how much more he could take. If he didn’t see Anne soon, he would go mad.

  “What’s your history? Have you captained other ships?”

  Biting back a curse, Teach barely managed to keep his voice level. “Yes, I have. It was under similar circumstances, when the captain of another merchant ship on which I sailed died from his injuries during an attack off the coast of Jamaica.”

  “You seem to have a knack for coming out of encounters unscathed.”

  Teach shrugged, unsure how to respond.

  Governor Webb steepled his fingers, clearly enjoying Teach’s discomfiture. Webb watched him as though he was an insect under glass. “I would like you to captain a ship for me.”

  Not sure he heard the governor correctly, Teach cocked his head slightly, a flush of adrenaline coursing through his body. “I’m sorry, you want me to captain a ship?” Under different circumstances, Teach might have leapt at the chance. But not now. Now he simply wanted this interrogation to end.

  “Yes.”

  “Why me?”

  “Why not you? Do you have other pressing matters?” Webb’s voice was mocking.

  Yes. Now his most pressing thoughts were of Anne. But he couldn’t tell Webb that. “Perhaps we could discuss this later. I would like to go and see to my men.”

  “Of course. That’s what a good captain should do. By all means, go and see to your men. But then you will report back here first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “And the charge of mutiny brought against me?”

  “Dismissed.”

  “Thank you, sir—”

  “For now.”

  Any relief Teach might have felt at the governor’s words faded. “What do you mean, for now?”

  “It means that unless you do as I ask, you and the rest of your crew will be charged and hanged for mutiny.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Anne

  Anne spun the pocket watch that had once belonged to her mother on its gold chain, watching the way it reflected the light from the kitchen window. Beth had gone upstairs to Alastair’s office, leaving Anne alone with only heavy thoughts as company.

  She couldn’t shake the image of seeing Teach led away in irons. Her insides were tied, like the cordage on a sail.

  Twisting the chain into a tight ball, she released the tension
and watched it spiral to the last link. The action didn’t soothe her; it reminded her too much of her own predicament. She was spinning, spinning, but anchored to a fixed point. Nothing she did seemed to break her free of the dizzying loop of her helplessness. She had done nothing to help Teach, and she failed to help the slaves.

  But what could she do? She was a young girl with no money in a strange land. Her mind circled back to that point again and again but couldn’t take hold of a single plan of action.

  Once she had money, she could stop relying on others for aid. Alastair had gone immediately to seek an audience with the governor to talk about Teach and his arrest. Anne wished she could have accompanied him, but Alastair had insisted he go alone. Cara and Coyle had gone to the market, to see if they could learn any news.

  And, unable to sit idle, Anne had cleaned the kitchen for four straight hours. With nothing left to do, she spun her watch and paced across the small space.

  The sound of carriage wheels broke into her thoughts. Rushing out to meet it, she stopped, her stomach plummeting at the sight of a stranger. It wasn’t Alastair returning with news after all. Nor was it Lord Pelham’s.

  Anne eyed the driver, his dark skin glistening, his shirt plastered to his back with sweat. He immediately removed his hat and used it to fan his face.

  Curious who it could be, Anne moved forward until she stood beside the door. The linen partition covering the window lifted.

  The woman’s face inside was older, and marred with deep wrinkles around the mouth. But it was as pale as the underbelly of a fish, as was her hand where it held the curtain aside. Her modest blue satin dress had puffed sleeves that reached to her elbows.

  “You’re not Beth,” she snapped, her green eyes narrowing.

  Anne stood up straight, unprepared for the venom in the woman’s voice. “No, ma’am. I’m not.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Inside, ma’am. Shall I get her for you?”

  “Of course, you fool. I’m not here to bandy words with some ill-begotten monster.”