Captive Secrets (21 page)

A long time later, exhausted at last, she returned to her cabin to shed her costume. When she walked back on deck she was Fury van der Rhys.

 

“I watched you. You
were
the Siren,” Juli said excitedly. “I want to hear what it was like walking about the ship. And what did those damnable birds give you?”

“Juli, it was the most wonderful experience!” Fury exclaimed. “I felt as if I were bewitched for a time, and then when Gaspar brought the garter, I was me again. Oh, I can't explain it! I was slicing at Senor Domingo and making him beg me—I was going to spare his life the way my mother spared my father's. I never felt like that before. It was make-believe, a pretend game. And now it's over,” she concluded sadly.

“Hardly,” Juli muttered. “I think it's just beginning. If we're lucky, your clothes will dry before we reach the house. Tomorrow is another day, Miss Fury.”

Fury nodded. “Yes, another day.”

She was on her way up the stairs to retire when Juli came running up to say that Father Sebastian had just arrived and was waiting to speak with her on the veranda. Fury hurried out to him.

“Father, what is it?” she cried anxiously. “What's happened?”

“I'm not sure, but I thought you would want to know. The talk in town is that Mynheer Dykstra hired Señor Domingo to find the Sea Siren. The señor sailed with the tide on one of the Dutch East India's ships. Yesterday, a brigantine belonging to the Dutch East India Company limped into port. Her captain said she was attacked by the Sea Siren. She was shot broadside and all the Dutch East India's cargo plundered. It's just like before. The town is . . . they're saying all manner of things. The merchants are putting a price on her head and the Dutch East India Company is adding its own. Every able-bodied ship is going to sea to hunt her down—dead or alive, they say.”

“Did anyone actually see the . . . the impostor?”

“The entire crew of the plundered ship, and that makes Señor Domingo's story true. We never should have doubted him,” the old priest said sourly.

Fury considered his words, brows furrowed in a pensive frown. “Father, don't you find it just a little bit strange that Senor Domingo is the one hired by the Dutch East India Company to find the Sea Siren?”

“Not in the least. He's young and strong, and he actually had words with the woman. He was the logical choice. Mynheer Dykstra is too old to be hunting down the likes of this woman. It makes sense.”

“Not to me, it doesn't,” Fury snapped. “Perhaps they're in this together.
That's
logical.”

“Furana!” cried the priest, shocked. “Mynheer Dykstra is your father's old friend. He would never do anything so base. You should apologize for such a wicked thought. Although—” he hesitated.

“What?” Fury demanded.

“Both men were seen coming out of—”

“Where?” Fury prodded when he seemed disinclined to continue.

“Clarice's . . . establishment. At midmorning. Today.”

“Oh . . .” The information was a blow to Fury's pride. She knew her face was scarlet as she led the way into the library, where she rang Juli for refreshments.

“You'll stay the night, Father. I insist.”

“Yes, thank you, child. I don't think I'm up to the trip back this evening.”

Over coffee, Fury and Father Sebastian discussed other, inconsequential matters, but Fury's mind was whirling with thoughts of Luis Domingo in Clarice's establishment. True, her own father had gone to Clarice many, many times—or so her mother had said. But the idea of Luis Domingo in the arms of an experienced whore made her body hot all over.

“Have you ever seen the women who work for Clarice?” she asked at last, unable to stand it a moment longer.

“My, yes—and it would be hard to tell they weren't town ladies,” the priest said piously. “Quite elegant they are when they shop. Only the finest. Very young and pretty.”

“How pretty?” Fury asked, wanting to bite off her tongue for voicing the question.

Father Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his eyes far away. “Very beautiful, I believe. The prettiest one is Naula. Clarice considers her a prize among all the girls.” He turned away then, embarrassed at the turn their conversation had taken. “Why are we talking about this, child?”

Fury tossed her head defensively. “You brought up the subject, Father. I have no interest in brothels or the people who frequent them. Señor Domingo's personal affairs are of no interest to me whatever,” she added, eyes flashing.

“I thought we were discussing Mynheer Dykstra and the Spaniard,” the priest said fretfully. “Am I . . . did I forget something?”

“No, of course not. You're just tired. I'll ring for Juli and have her show you to your room. Good night, Father.”

“Sleep well, child.”

 

A few minutes before midnight Fury rapped softly on Juli's bedroom door. “These brothers of yours,” she asked when Juli beckoned her inside, “all seven of them, where are they?”

“In town. Why, Miss Fury? Has something happened to Father Sebastian?”

“No, no, nothing like that. If your brothers can crew my ship, I can sail on the morning tide. We need to send someone into town and arrange with them to meet me at the ship.”

“Who? Are you sure you want the servants to know . . . Oh, I see, you want me to go into town. You are like your mother,” Juli grumbled as she began to dress. The housekeeper's eyes widened when she took a good look at Fury and realized she was dressed and planning to make her way through the jungle in the darkness. “Miss Fury! You can't possibly—”

“The moon is bright, and I'll take Gaspar and Pilar with me. The stable boys think me daft as it is. A moonlight ride won't surprise them at all, and I'll try to be quiet. You'll have to send someone to care for the horse, though.

“Promise your brothers they'll be well paid,” she whispered as Juli slipped out the door.

Later, on her way to the stable, Fury wondered where she was going to get the money to pay Juli's brothers. Perhaps Mynheer Dykstra would advance her some money without asking too many questions.

Fury saddled the mare and led her into the courtyard. Then she clapped her hands lightly and was rewarded with a
swoosh
of dark air. Somewhere in the darkness the hawks were waiting for her.

Fury didn't like the darkness. She never had. On the ride to the cove she tried to pray but soon gave it up in favor of an easier task—imagining the face of the whore Naula described by Father Sebastian. Beautiful, he'd said. Well, there was no one more beautiful than her mother. If the faceless Naula were half as pretty, she was indeed worth looking at. Had the famous Clarice assigned Naula to Luis Domingo? Probably, Fury decided. He was the type of man who would command only the best, the most experienced women. Lord, she hated her thoughts. Luis Domingo meant nothing to her, and if she sailed the
Rana
out to sea in search of him, she'd be endangering her life.

Fury's throat constricted as she thought of all the others who would be looking for the Sea Siren—Luis Domingo would not be alone. What chance would she have against a gaggle of cutthroats eager to claim the price on her head? And it was
her
head. Nowhere in this world was there a woman who could even come close to impersonating her mother . . . except for herself.

Fury followed the jungle slope down, finally reaching the tiny beach that cupped the cliff-framed cove, and approached the ship. It took only minutes to pasture the horse and swim out to the
Rana.

Soaking wet, she made her way to the wheelhouse and the maps and charts she would need to steer down the river and out to sea. She prayed that twenty long years had shifted the rocks that gave the River of Death its name. If not, she would need every ounce of skill to somehow skirt the killing rocks at the ocean's edge.

Fury's touch was reverent as she unrolled first one map and then another until she found what she wanted. If she was unlucky enough to be seen, she would sail around the west tip of Java. “Anyone in pursuit will think the sea swallowed me whole,” she muttered. This map of the eastern isles was going to be a blessing.

Her slender fingers trailed across the old maps her mother had sailed by. There was no reason to believe she couldn't manage the trip. Still, she didn't feel at all as confident as she had the previous day when she'd come aboard. Of course, then she'd had the costume and the weapons. They made the difference. Dressed as she was now, she was a lady, a visitor on board ship. It was a feeling she didn't like at all.

Below in her cabin she stripped off her wet clothing and slipped into the costume she'd worn the day before. As if by magic, the same feeling returned. Before she allowed herself to think about her transformation, she was on deck, cutlass in one hand, rapier in the other.

Confident now, she strutted up and down the teakwood deck, getting the feel of the black boots, the diamond garter winking in the lantern light. Suddenly she stopped, eyes wide with the realization that she was different here aboard the
Rana.
Her hand measured the weight of the rapier, and she knew in that second she could wound, maim, or kill if she had to. Furana van der Rhys might flush, blush, and simper in the presence of Luis Domingo, but not this seafaring hellcat.

She was striding again, the heels of her boots thumping on the deck as she tried to make sense of what she was thinking and feeling. Long ago, when her mother rode the seas, she lived under a dual identity, an identity that served her well. She was able to transform not only her outward appearance, but her personality as well. On land she was as capable as at sea, and she didn't need the scanty costume or the
Rana
to be the Sea Siren. Fury, however, needed both to assume her mother's old identity. “And that doesn't say much for me,” Fury muttered, one hand still clutching the hilt of the rapier.

The peaceful cove was a haven . . . for now. Fury leaned on the railing and stared across the moonlit water. She could still change her mind if she wanted to. She could forget about the impostor riding the seas and Luis Domingo as well. She could even go back to Spain. So many choices. . . .

Suddenly the hawks grew restless from their position on the mizzenmast, and Fury picked up the sound on the water at the same moment. A boat was headed their way.

The boat was small and crowded, the occupants' whispers carrying across the water. Immediately Fury dropped the rope ladder over the side of the ship. All but Juli climbed aboard.

“I'll secure this vessel at the deepest end of the cove,” Juli called up. “Good luck.”

Fury's heart pounded as she greeted Juli's brothers. All were young, agile, and in the darkness she was unable to read their expressions. She called out to Juli, her voice betraying the anxiousness she was feeling. “Juli, how much did you tell them . . . what are their feelings . . . what did their wives . . . Juli, you can't leave me like this and not . . . ”

Juli closed the distance between the
Rana'
s bow and the jolly boat she was in. “They are not afraid, if that's what you want to know, Miss Fury. They are big, hulking men, as you can see, and even if they were afraid, they'd never voice their fears in front of a woman. We have their wives to thank for allowing them to sail with you.
They
understand what it is you are doing. I gave away no secrets, if that is what you are fretting over, although one would have to be very stupid not to know what is going on. The less voiced the better. I will tell you this: they fear those damnable birds.”

“Gaspar and Pilar!” Fury said in a shocked voice. “But they won't harm your brothers. Speaking of harm, Juli, each day that goes by, there are more and more people who know . . . for years this was the best-kept secret in the world, and now all seven of your brothers know, Father Sebastian knows, and it wouldn't surprise me at all if Luis Domingo knows, not to mention the imposter who roams the seas.”

Juli's voice turned thick with displeasure. “My brothers, to a man, will swear allegiance to you. There is no one else who can be trusted. If you are having second thoughts, now is the time to voice them,” she growled.

“No, no, I guess I'm just nervous. It will be light very soon and time to sail.”

“Godspeed,” Juli called over her shoulder. “I'll pray for your safe return.”

Fury turned to face her crew. They were clean and freshly shaved, and had curious, honest eyes. Immediately, Fury regretted her words to Juli. They were there to help her. All were young but none as young as herself. All were married with children, Juli had told her several days earlier. The wages she would pay them would not make them rich but would make their lives more comfortable. None of them seem surprised at her scanty costume, and none were leering at her. She felt safe and realized one source of her anxiety was gone. Now it was time for business.

If her crew of seven felt uneasy, it wasn't noticeable to Fury as the
Rana
skimmed out of the cove beneath her sure, if unpracticed, hands—down the winding river, over the white-capped breakers, and ... into open water. She hadn't expected such a rough sea, and it took all her strength to hold the frigate steady. Above her she could see Gaspar and Pilar, sentinels on the mizzenmast, their jet eyes on the rolling breakers. Over and over she told herself that she was the
Rana'
s master.

Two hours later a wild wind started to blow in from the west, signaling an impending storm. Excitement coursed through Fury as she gripped the wheel. She felt Gaspar and Pilar swoop down to perch on the high-backed chair that was bolted to the floor, their talons digging into the heavy mahogany. Their presence gave Fury renewed strength. If she could bring the
Java Queen
safely into port, she could certainly ride the
Rana
through any rough weather.