A Pirate's Heart (St. John Series) (3 page)

A scream from inside the mission broke the trance that held Kristina in place. “The sisters!” she frantically panted as she turned and crept through the woods to the far corner of the mission, opposite from the direction she had just came. Pressing her back against the mission’s wall, she approached the corner and could make out an arm lying on the ground. She cautiously approached and peered around the corner.

Kristina could not contain the screams that came from her throat as she viewed the scene before her. All the sisters were slain, their habits ripped from their bodies. Her eyes came to rest on the tiny body of Victoria lying next to Sister Abigail. No! She was just a little girl.

Kristina didn’t feel the butt of the pistol as it struck the side of her head, causing blackness to swim before her eyes.

“Careful, you ass!” shouted a voice at the man who had hit Kristina. “I don’t want her damaged!”

The short, fat pirate looked at his cohort. “Aw, Capt’n. I didn’t hit her that hard. Besides, that little bitch tried ta kill me.”

“I don’t care, Jimmie!” seethed the captain. “She’ll be worth a fortune at Tortuga. Miss Annie said she’d pay real good for any pretty, exotic girls, and I believe this little spitfire will bring us a fortune!”

Jimmie looked down at the beautiful Spanish lady he had knocked unconscious. Her soft, long raven locks hid the small trickle of blood coming from her wound. Her full red lips were slightly parted and her long black eyelashes were resting on high delicate cheekbones. The dingy gray dress she was wearing did not take away from her figure. Her breasts weren’t large, but the wool dress was pulled tight over them and Jimmie could make out the outline of her nipples. A firm bronze calf could be seen peeping from the bottom of the too short dress. She was exquisite. The most stunning woman Jimmie had ever seen.

Jimmie became aroused just looking at her. He rolled her limp body onto her back and fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. He just wanted a small taste of what this striking beauty could offer.

Before he could loosen the first button of his trousers, a fist connected with his jaw, knocking him to the ground. “I said she is
not
to be touched and I mean it, Jimmie. If she’s a virgin, I could get double the price for her.”

“Aw, Capt’n, I just wanted a small taste, ya know, before I have to pay for her.”

The captain’s second punch connected with Jimmie’s nose, breaking it. Blood poured from his oversized nostrils. “That ought ta remind you ta follow orders from now on.”

“You broke my nose!” Jimmie shouted as he grabbed his face.

“And if I have to remind you again, it will be the last words you ever hear. Savvy? Now, take her to the dinghy.”

Jimmie pulled a dirty, sweat-soaked rag from his shirt pocket and wiped the blood from his face. He ripped a small piece from the rag and shoved it up his left nare. A stabbing pain shot through his face as he bent down, causing him to wince. He picked up Kristina’s tiny body and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and proceeded to follow the captain towards the awaiting dinghy.

Chapter Two

Kristina awoke with a thud as she was tossed onto her side into the small dinghy and found that her hands had been bound in front of her. Scurrying to a sitting position she fought the pain that shot though the right side of her head. She gently shook her head to ward off the dizziness that came over her. The cool wetness of water on her now bare feet brought her to the realization that her sandals had fallen off. She felt a sudden pang of sadness, as if the sandals were a symbol of all she had lost.

She frantically looked around in an attempt to gather her bearings. The realization of what had transpired began to sink in. There had been rumors of pirates raiding the small fishing villages looking for women to sell to the taverns and brothels throughout the Caribbean. Surely this was not why the pirates had come to the area near Matanzas? The small fishing village consisted mainly of men. The few women who lived in the village were either old or the nuns. There were a few prostitutes that Kristina knew about and knew personally. She had frequently visited them with her mother when they were sick or with the nuns when they were trying to help them reform. Kristina had learned a
lot
from those women, nothing of which her family or the nuns were aware, though. She would sometimes sneak down to the village in the late afternoon and talk with them. Most were quite social. She learned what transpired between a man and a woman, as well as some unsavory words from those women. Because she lived so close to the coast, they were quite adamant about her learning to protect herself by intimidation.

The short, fat pirate plopped down in the small boat, causing it to rock violently and brought Kristina’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. A smug expression crossed her face when she saw his blackened eyes and the material protruding down from his left nare. Kristina wasn’t sure how the disgusting little man had received his broken nose, but she was glad he was in pain. He grunted as a tall, thin man pushed the boat forward roughly. She attempted to turn to see who was behind her, but the fat man’s pudgy fingers tightly gripped her arms, causing her to cry out in pain.

“Hold still, you little bitch,” he snapped as his fingers dug into her flesh.

As the dinghy began to move out into the surf, Kristina realized this would be her only chance for escape. She shoved the overweight sailor backward, stood and attempted to jump from the side. A thin, snake-like arm wrapped around her waist and roughly tossed her back into the boat, causing her to stumble and hit her left ear. Tears of pain formed in her eyes.

“Hold on to her!” she heard the thin man say to the short one.

“Start rowing, Tucker!” the tall man shouted at someone towards the back of the dinghy. “I would like to get back onto
The Revenge
before the tide comes in. This water is rough enough from the storm without the help from the returning tide.”

Kristina glared at the tall, thin man who she assumed was the captain. She could see the stringy strands of his greasy brown hair slithering like serpents out from underneath the hat he was wearing. A shiver ran down her spine as his evil green eyes gazed at her. His eyes reminded her of something you imagine as a child peering at you from under your bed . . . monstrous. He rubbed his hand down the left side of his face causing the large scar to blanch. Kristina studied the mark and noticed the scar ran from above his left eyebrow to his chin. The scarring to his left cheek drew notice away from the deep-pitted areas on both cheeks.

Kristina heard a deep voice respond, “Aye, Capt’n” from behind her. She watched in horror as the small village she had lived her entire life in grew farther and farther away. Fear began to set in.

The boat quickly reached
The Revenge
. Kristina was forced at gunpoint to climb the old, rope ladder to reach the deck. Once on the deck, the captain pushed her towards another short bald man with saggy jowls. “Take her to the brig and make sure
no one
touches her.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” the short bald man answered in a thick French accent.

Kristina was shoved down a set of rickety steps. With each footstep, the stairs creaked and wobbled violently. Kristina held her breath as she descended, hoping the staircase would hold. At the small landing, she took a relieved breath. The pungent smell of sweat, stale liquor and smoke overpowered her senses. She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths through her mouth in order to control the overwhelming sensation of nausea rising in her stomach. She was marched down another set of steps into the hull of the ship. Another foul stench—a combination of vomit, urine, feces, and mold—hit her full force as she was shoved into the dank dark cell.

She jumped at the slamming of the cell door. She glared at the stubby little man before her, but dared not say a word. They didn’t realize that she understood English and she planned on keeping that little secret to herself. She hoped that her playing ignorant would give her an advantage and possibly help her escape.

“Enjoy your company,
Chėre
,” he said as he locked the cell door and left.

A noise came from behind Kristina. The uneasy feeling in her stomach increased. She had no way to defend herself since that pungent little man had left her hands tied. She attempted to brace herself for whatever or whoever was behind her. Kristina turned around and spied a figure in the dark corner of the cell. With the poor lighting in the hull, she hadn’t noticed that the cell was already occupied. Kristina took a defensive stance at her vantage point by the door. She wasn’t about to investigate the shadowy figure in the corner.

The figure slowly stood. There was only enough light to allow Kristina to see that whoever was with her in the cell was tall, very tall. The figure moved towards her. Kristina began to make out the dark-skinned female moving in her direction. The tall woman stopped several feet away from Kristina. She spoke not a word but pointed towards Kristina’s bonds.

Kristina watched the woman suspiciously at first. The tall woman was wearing a thin brown dress that resembled a sack and was cinched tightly at the waist with a twill string. The garment was entirely too short for the woman’s tall frame. The tattered hem of the dress rested just above the woman’s knees. Her hair was very short, almost masculine in style. Kristina looked into the eyes of the tall captive and realized she meant her no harm. She held her bound hands out to the black lady. The lady bent down and untied the knot holding the bonds with her teeth. Kristina nodded her head in appreciation. The other lady said nothing, walked back to her corner and sat back down.

Kristina followed the lady to the back of the cell and sat in the opposite corner facing the woman. As she sat in the corner, the sounds of the hull began to fill her ears. A faint cough, a sporadic rustle of an unknown object, even an occasional sob could be heard emerging from the darkness. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. As she continued to scan the hull, she could make out several figures. She blinked several times and looked again. There was more than one cell in the smelly hole. She was not able to count how many, but she could see they all held prisoners and they were all women! The realization that she was on a slave ship with the sole intention of selling them into prostitution stuck her with such force she thought the breath had been knocked out of her.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Kristina quietly mumbled to herself.

“’Tis no use,” came the voice of her cellmate. “No one ken eva’ escape dis’ hell.”

“How do you know this?” Kristina questioned.

“Because I haf tried and failed mony times,” the woman told her. The tall thin Jamaican woman looked at Kristina. “Ma name is Montie.”

“Kristina,” she replied.

“Well, Krestena, welcome ta hell.”

“
Gracias
, but do not welcome me. You welcome someone who plans on staying for I do not.”

“Der’s no gettin’ owt,” insisted Montie. “Ond even if ya do, der’s no where ta go. We’re at sea, womon.”

“Maybe so, but they have to make port sometime. So there’s
always
hope for escape.”

“Our next stop is Tortuga. Dey is goin’ ta sell us! Da ya not understand dat, Krestena,” Montie snapped angrily at Kristina in an attempt to stress the hopelessness of their situation.

“Well, if you have already accepted your fate, so be it. I for one do
not
plan on being sold,” Kristina said as she raised her chin proudly.

“If ya plan on escapin’, leave me owt of ya plans. I haf na desire ta die at da hands of des pirates. I’ll take me chances of escapin’ once I’s sold.”

“Well, that’s your path. I have no desire to be forced into prostitution, and I
know
I can escape. I will either escape or die trying!” Kristina exclaimed proudly as she turned away from Montie.

Chapter Three

The trip to Tortuga seemed to last an eternity. Montie had been wrong for Tortuga was not their next stop. The ship made two more stops and kidnapped three more women. During their voyage, the prisoners were not allowed on deck. The conditions were deplorable! They were given only rotten scraps to eat and stagnant water to drink. They had to relieve themselves on the floor where they slept.

Kristina was shaking violent. She wasn’t sure if she was cold or if it was her nerves that made her do so. The warm ocean water made the walls of the hull sweat. The condensation from the wood dampened her wool dress. In the dark belly of the ship, her dress did not or would not dry. Her hands shook fiercely. At night, she would pull the collar of her dress into her mouth to silence the chattering of her teeth in attempt to sleep. Her back and knees ached from sleeping in a sitting position because she refused to lay down in the filth that accumulated on the floor. She was miserable and began to wallow in self-pity.

The sound of footsteps on the rickety steps brought dread to Kristina. She knew it meant only hardship for the other captives. The other women were frequently taken to the forecastle for the crew’s entertainment. They all resented Kristina because the pirates did not touch her. The other women would spit and throw their feces in her direction. None of their objects ever reached the corner where Kristina sat, but their words of discontent and hatred would echo throughout the hull. Death threats and horrid names were tossed her way frequently by the other women, their anger evident by their tone.

Jimmie reached the bottom of the steps and sneered at the women. “Looks like today’s your lucky day,
ladies
. We’ve reached Tortuga.” He walked over to Kristina’s cell, his evil eyes ogling her. “And when Miss Annie buys you, I’ll be sure to be the first in line for ya.”

Kristina glared heatedly at the stubby little man, her unspoken words of hatred apparent in her brown eyes. She refused to speak to anyone and hadn’t after her first conversation with Montie. The excitement Kristina was feeling was easy to hide though. She hated her current situation, hated her new “roommates”, and hated pirates. If she never saw a pirate again it would be too soon! Because of pirates, her parents were murdered and she was now on a slave ship. She wished, multiple times a day, that all pirates would die a slow, miserably painful death. The only good pirate was a dead pirate and nothing could make her change her opinion.

Several other men came down the steps just then, ropes and chains in hand. Each woman had their hands bound in front of them and then each one was tied to the single long rope before they were marched up the steps. It had been over a week since Kristina had seen the sunlight. When she approached the opening to the deck, her eyes involuntary closed from the brightness of the sun. She lifted her face to the sun’s warmth, absorbing its rays. She was shoved forward by Montie, but kept walking with her eyes closed, allowing them to adjust, enjoying the heat warming her flesh.

It took several minutes before Kristina could fully open her eyes. She surveyed the situation at hand. Immediate escape was impossible. Even with the sun warming her body, she was still shivering, plus the lack of nourishment left her weak. But there was a positive side; her hands were bound with rope and not chains. That little bit of hope made her inwardly smile.

“Take them to the bath house and get them cleaned and deloused,” the captain ordered as he looked at a member of the crew Kristina hadn’t seen before.

The man was of average height. He didn’t have the same appearance as the other pirates. He was clean-shaven and his clothing appeared neat and well tailored. But when he smiled, his appearance changed abruptly. The teeth he had that weren’t blackened were either broken or missing. She watched as he attempted to lick his lips with the tip of his cut off tongue.

“Don’t ya worry, Missies,” the captain spoke. “Billie’s a eunuch and he won’t be causin’ ya any real harm. I need ya’ll lookin’ pretty as a picture when I take ya ta Miss Annie and the others.”

* * * *

Max gave a long lazy stretch as he settled in the lumpy bed he was sharing with the brunette. A sly smile formed on her lips as she snuggled closer to him. She placed her fingers on his smooth, sun-kissed chest and traced the muscular lines of his physique.

“Ya feelin’ up fer round two?” she purred as her hand traveled lower past his navel.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it above her head as he rolled over. He looked down at the busty wench, attempting to remember her name. “Ah, my dear,” he said as her name still eluded him. “We’ll have to wait until some other time. I need to meet the captain and have dallied too long in your bed as it is.”

The plump brunette prostitute thrust her thin lower lip out in a half pout. “Do you have to leave?”

Max stood up and walked to the chair beside the window. He did not reply to her question. Picking up his black trousers, he pulled them on his long muscular legs. She watched as the black pin-poked, tribal armband tattoo stretched taut over his right bicep. He turned his back to her and grabbed his crisp black linen shirt. She watched as the muscles rippled across his broad back as he pulled the garment on. Her eyes traveled to the long scar that extended from the middle right to the lower left portion of his back. There was a faint black “X” mark on the lower tip of the scar that sat just below the waistband of his pants. She propped up on her elbow and continued admiring her current customer. He was a magnificent looking specimen, even if he did scare the hell out of most people, herself included. His appearance was intimidating. He was very tall and muscular. Beverly didn’t think there was a muscle in this man’s body that was small. His hair was black as midnight and trimmed short, this time anyway. He turned to look at her, his sinfully black eyes revealing none of his thoughts. His strong square jaw line had the shadowy look of a beard making its appearance.

He continued dressing. Beverly watched as he finished lacing the front of his shirt. He sat on the red velvet chair where his clothing had been laying and pulled on his black leather boots. Standing, he pulled on his brown coat and began adjusting the weapons that he wore on the wide brown leather belt—his pistol, his cutlass, another pistol. He placed a knife in the sheath on his boot.

“What no cannon?” she asked coyly.

He gave her a half smile, causing the dimple on the left side of his cheek to appear. “No, that’s in my other coat,” he replied. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a couple of gold coins towards her.

She caught both coins with the hand that had been holding the dull orange quilt up to her breasts. The quilt dropped to her waist allowing Max a full view of her overly large breasts. “Are ya sure you don’t want to stay?” she purred as she ran the cold gold coin’s edge over one of her exposed nipples making it stand erect.

“Yes. You satisfied my current needs, whore, and I have more pressing issues than lining your pockets even further.” With that being said, he walked out her door and shut it.

Beverly lay back down on her bed and pulled the quilt up over her body. She didn’t mind the insult. He was a magnificent lover. He was one of the few men who made her get excited and explode with ecstasy. She snuggled deeper down into her old lumpy bed. She needed to nap now. She had been up most of the night and had started to bed this morning when Max appeared at her door. He had kept her occupied most of the morning and she had to work again tonight. She sighed remembering the pleasure she received from his body as she drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Max crossed the busy street to the docks at Tortuga. He watched as merchants and pirates alike, bargained with the magistrate about docking fees. As he was walking down the dock, a short, stubby fat man bumped into him.

“Watch where ya goin’, ya as—” the disgusting man began.

“What did you say, boy?” Max interrupted, the irritation apparent in his deep voice.

“I said . . . ,” the man’s words trailed off as he turned to insult the man who attempted to intimidate him. The man’s eyes grew wide with terror as he realized who he had smarted-off to. “I . . . I . . . I said beggin’ yer pardon,” he nervously answered.

Max’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Jimmie. The man disgusted him. He considered himself a man, a good fighter, when everyone knew he was just a bully and a coward using the influence that his current captain gave him to take advantage of unsuspecting sailors. He had attempted to try it once, and only once, with Max, but when he approached, he ran away in fear. Max had a presence about him that said he was not to be trifled with, would not be bullied or intimidated. His every essence oozed of danger.

“I a-a-a-a-accidently bumped into you trying to get these girls in line,” the man stuttered in an attempt to keep himself from Max’s fury, as he pointed towards a line of a dozen or so women, tied together, being lead down the dock.

Max didn’t even look in the direction the fat man pointed. He leaned down to face Jimmie. “If you
ever
touch me again, even by accident, I will take great pleasure in gutting you. Understand?”

“Y-y-y-yes sir,” replied the cowardly man. “Won’t happen again, you have my word . . . it was just an accident. Some of the girls were—”

Max turned away dismissing the man before he could finish his explanation.

Jimmie let out a slow, relieved sigh as he turned to follow the train of bound women. If he had known
The Abyss
had been docked close to
The Revenge
he would have been more observant. He did not want to take a chance of upsetting
The Abyss’s
crew. Her captain was not a tolerant man of those who sold slaves, especially those who were forced into prostitution. Jimmie turned and watched as Max boarded
The Abyss
.

“Thank God he’s gone,” he said to himself as he caught up with Billie.

* * * *

Max knocked once on the captain’s door and entered without being given permission. He proceeded to walk to the tall thin cabinet and pull out a bottle of rum. He turned and faced the captain who was engrossed in paperwork. Max took a seat in the dark leather chair across the table from the captain, slouched languidly, and put his booted feet in the chair opposite of him, crossing them at the ankles.

Alex looked up from his papers. “Do you mind? I just had those refinished,” he said as he gestured at Max’s feet resting in the chair.

The corner of Max’s mouth turned upward slightly. “Yeah, actually I do mind. This is a more comfortable way to sit when discussing whatever you have in mind.”

Alex just looked at his friend and shook his head. “I ought to have you whipped with the cat for such blatant disrespect of me.”

“I’d like to see you try, old friend,” Max replied as he placed the bottle of rum to his lips and took a long drink.

Max looked towards his friend and took in his appearance. Alex usually kept his blond-hair tied back with a thin brown leather strap, but today just the sides were loosely braided and pulled towards the back being held with a small tie. Max raised a questioning dark brow at his friend.

“What?” Alex questioned.

“You going for the Viking look?” he asked as he pointed to his friend’s hair.

“No,” Alex replied exasperatedly. “And you should talk. What happened to you? Last I saw you this morning your hair was longer than mine.”

Max looked at his friend nonchalantly and shrugged his shoulders. “Decided it was time for a new look.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Lord help us! The world must be coming to an end! Thought you said you’d never have short hair again after you left the navy.”

Max just shrugged his shoulders again. “I got tired of it wrapping around my head. Besides, it grows fast. It will be long before you know it.” Max plopped his feet on the floor, rose up from his slouched position and leaned towards his friend. “Now what was so important that you had to disturb me from the company of Betty—Bertha—Anna—whatever her name?”

“I thought her name was Angus—Lorene—Mary,” Alex countered.

Max shot Alex a look that said, “Get on with it before I punch you in the mouth.”

“Touchy this morning, aren’t you?”

“Alex,” Max warned.

“Alright, alright,” Alex replied as he held up his hands in a surrender pose. “As you know, one of my father’s ships was raided last week.”

“Yeah . . . 
and
?”

“Well, this particular vessel had a present I had purchased my mother for her birthday. That present happened to be one of the articles stolen from the ship. I have discovered that the group that conducted the raid is residing about a day’s ride inland from here.”

“Okay?” Max questioned suspiciously. It was not unusual for them to track down individuals who stole from Emerald Shipping, Alex’s father’s business. In fact it had become a hobby of theirs. Pirates frequented these waters and took great delight in boarding merchant vessels and taking their cargo. So in order to better protect his inheritance, as well as his father’s lavish lifestyle, Alex had taken to pirating himself. He occasionally had to “plunder” his own father’s ships, just to keep the scent off who he really was . . . Nicholas Sinclair, the Governor’s son.