Enchantress (9 page)

Brittany knew that Achmed was merely trying to make conversation to take her mind off her fears. “Why are the men so devoted to him?” she asked, but did not really wish to know.

“I was told that he cares about them, and that if asked, he could tell you the names of each of their wives and children. Hard-bitten sailors of every rank would follow him into hell
if he asked it of them. On the other hand, with the ladies, I was assured he has an irresistible charm.”

Brittany remembered seeing Captain Stoddard when he had been with Simijin. Of course, he had been too far away for her to make out any detail of his face, but he had seemed handsome. “I hope he is as good as his men believe, Achmed, for it will take a miracle if the American captain is to win against the Turkish Navy.”

“Stranger events have happened,” the big man said cheerfully. “I find this all very exciting.”

She shivered. “Tell me more about this American captain.”

“I know nothing more of him. But I could tell you a tale I was once told about another sea captain.”

Knowing Achmed as she did, Brittany realized he was again trying to keep her mind off what was happening above deck. “Tell me,” she urged.

“This captain in my story was French, and this event I am about to relate to you took place during a battle with the English. The captain had his right arm shot off, then his left arm, then one of his legs. He had himself put in a tub of bran to slow the bleeding, and he continued to give orders until he died from loss of blood. Is that not marvelous?”

Brittany leaned her head back, feeling sick inside. “Do not tell me anymore. I do not want to hear about blood and dying.”

Achmed felt sorrow in his heart that he had upset her when he had merely wanted to make her feel better. She knew the seriousness of the battle that raged around her; she also understood that none of them might live past the night.

The eunuch vowed that if it came to going down in this ship, or being taken by the sultan’s men, he intended that Brittany would go down with the ship. The English Rose would not want her daughter turned over to the sultan.

Like a phantom ship, the
Victorious
rose up out of the darkness, came up on the lee side of her enemy, and fired all port
cannonade before disappearing in a cloud of gunsmoke. The enemies’ masts came crashing down onto her deck, and she was listing badly, and fatally crippled.

Thorn then turned into the wind to take on the man-of-war. Again he came out of the darkness to unexpectedly surprise the enemy who was anchored near the cliffs.

With a quickness of mind, Thorn ordered his gunman to fire at the enemy ship’s unprotected stern, which splintered with such a force that it sent debris flying into the air. Thorn then had his cannoneer blast the ship with a heavy, concentrated fire.

As darkness fell, the wind intensified and still the
Victorious
was not out of danger. Across her stern, Thorn faced two enemy ships, and the night battle was lit by flames of the burning man-of-war.

The cannonading from the fort went on all night, but with the benefit of the storm, and the enemies’ inability to see their target, they never came close to the
Victorious.

Brittany clamped her hands over her ears as flashes of light and the thunder of guns jarred the ship. She wondered if it would not have been far better to have faced the sultan than to die here in hostile darkness.

The storm played out during the night, and the daylight revealed the tragic sight of the battle that had taken place through the hours of darkness.

Of the four enemy ships, one was burning with her rigging crumpled and plunging into the rough seas, two had sunk, and the last was crippled, though still intact, and she drifted away, unable to control her direction.

Well out of reach of the stronghold’s guns, the
Victorious
was battered but triumphant! She sailed away with every sail hoisted to the yard and the cheer of her crew filling the morning air.

The calm blue waters of the Mediterranean stretched before the
Victorious
in a wide, seemingly unending, shimmering expanse. Thorn, looking tired and haggard after the long battle, turned the wheel over to his third in command. Even though his muscles ached and his body cried out for sleep, there was something to do before he could rest.

His blue eyes were burning with anger as he called out to Cappy: “Have the watch keep a keen eye out for Turkish vessels. I doubt that they will pursue us this far, but one can never be certain what they might do.” His expression was grim. “Find our passenger, Cappy, and bring him to my cabin at once. And have the hold thoroughly searched. I suspect you will find a woman hiding there.”

Thorn turned away, moving into his cabin. His bed looked inviting, but it would be in the late afternoon before he could sleep. Dropping down at his desk, he stared at a map of the Mediterranean without really seeing it. His mind was on the battle they had just come through, and the audacity of the Sultan of Turkey to attack an American vessel without just cause.

Hell, if the sultan had contacted him, he would have immediately turned the woman over to him. The affair of two men fighting over some woman would have been of no interest to him, except that he had been used by the Grand Vizier. The last thing he wanted was complication in his life. But like it or not, he was now at odds with the Turkish government.

He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers.
After the battle last night, the
Victorious
would never be allowed to sail in Turkish waters again. But what did it matter to him, since this would probably be his last voyage?

A heavy rap sounded on the door, and Thorn admitted Cappy and the big eunuch to his cabin.

Achmed smiled, flashing a mouthful of white teeth, and his voice boomed out with enthusiasm. “The battle was magnificent, Captain Stoddard. I am glad I was here to witness your glorious triumph.”

Thorn stared at the man in silence for a long moment. Achmed wore a heavy headdress and brown cossack trousers, brown boots, and blue collar buttoned to the chin. Thorn wondered with distaste what would ever induce a man such as this one to give up his manhood to look after another man’s harem.

“I am told that you want to go to America, Achmed.”

“That is so, Captain Stoddard.”

“I was also told that you insisted on remaining in the hold, rather than above deck.”

“It was not that I insisted, Captain. It was that I preferred to be in the hold rather than sleeping on deck.”

Thorn’s eyes glinted. “And I insist that you wanted to remain where you could keep watch over the woman.”

Achmed met the captain’s eyes, and he knew there was no reason to deny the truth. “Yes, Captain Stoddard, I have deceived you—but it was for a good reason.” He raised his head, looking proud and haughty. “It is my sworn duty to watch over this woman for Lord Simijin.”

At that moment, there was a commotion outside the door, and two of Thorn’s men entered, leading a veiled woman who was twisting and kicking, trying to free herself from their grip. Achmed reached out to her, and when the two men saw the look in his dark eyes, they relinquished her into his care.

Brittany stared through her transparent veil at the man who was captain of the
Victorious.
On seeing him up close, she was struck by his rugged handsomeness. She could not
judge his height since he was seated at his desk, but his blue coat fit snugly across his broad shoulders. His white cravat was untied and disheveled.

She raised her eyes almost reluctantly to his face. He was tanned, and his face was covered with a dark stubble because he had not shaved since the battle. Tired lines fanned out about his deep blue eyes, and she had the strongest urge to take that head and rest it against her shoulder. That feeling did not last long, however, for he stood up to his full six-foot height and his eyes became piercing and accusing.

Brittany shrank back against Achmed, grim and silent, waiting for Captain Stoddard to announce her punishment. His voice was deep and authoritative when he spoke.

“Can I assume that this is the woman who brought all hell down on our head yesterday and last night?” Thorn directed his question to Achmed.

Lord Simijin had told Achmed that Brittany was to be presented as a woman of his harem so her privacy might be respected and so she could hide behind her veils. “This is the woman who is sought after by the Sultan Selim, Honored Captain. Lord Simijin will be most appreciative, and will reward you handsomely, when he learns of your courage in keeping her out of the sultan’s hands.”

Thorn looked with distaste on the woman shrouded in blue veils. He suddenly felt repulsed by her. The thought of a woman allowing herself to be used so harshly by a man was beyond his understanding. It did not speak well of the woman’s character.

Anger made Thorn’s eyes a deeper blue. “I can assure you the battle we fought last night was not to save the Grand Vizier’s woman, Achmed, but rather to save my men and this ship. Your lord has a lot to answer for. He had no right to place this woman on my ship without my permission.”

Achmed blinked his eyes. “But, Captain Stoddard, I have heard that there were no casualties among your crew, and there is only minor damage to your ship, so I do not understand why you are so angry.”

Thorn glared at the big man, while he avoided looking at the shapeless woman who stood silently before him. “My first mate will show you and the woman to your cabins, which I might add, had to be vacated by members of my crew. I have not yet decided what is to be done with you. You will keep this woman away from my crew. Is that understood, Achmed?”

Achmed bowed low, while he backed toward the door, taking Brittany with him. “It will be as you say, Captain Stoddard. We have no desire to socialize with your crew.”

Thorn now glanced at the woman. He could not see her features through the blue veil, but he sensed her uneasiness. “This is the only warning you will have to keep the woman out of my way.”

Brittany was furious with the captain’s high-handed manner. Why did he treat her as if she did not exist? Did he believe her an imbecile with neither understanding nor feelings? She allowed Achmed to lead her out of the cabin, deciding she did not like the captain in the least.

For two days Brittany had occupied a cramped cabin. At home in Simijin’s palace, she had been accustomed to silken bed coverings and rich carpets on the floor, and she was appalled at the roughness of this sparsely furnished cabin.

She was seated in the middle of the small bunk that served as her bed, her anger hanging by a slim thread and barely under control. She had never expected a man to be as stubborn and unfeeling as this Captain Thorn Stoddard. She was not allowed out of the cabin other than for a brief walk on deck at sundown. At all other times, she was forced to endure this small place. She was accustomed to being active, so she was bored with nothing to do. She was young and high-spirited, and did not take well to a life of idleness.

Brittany did not know anything about men, except Simijin—who had always indulged her every whim—and Achmed and the three eunuchs at Simijin’s palace, but they were not like other men, and they had always treated her
with the greatest respect. Now she had met a man who ignored and humiliated her.

Of course, she and Achmed had tricked their way on board the ship, but they had paid for their passage. Surely the captain could treat her with the same respect he would give to any other passenger.

She looked at herself in the hand mirror, still unaccustomed to the stranger that stared back at her. Each day, she had to rub her skin with the dark stain which had been made of black walnut oil. She also had to apply the henna rinse to her hair.

While in the cabin, she refused to wear the veils because they were too restricting and the heat was so oppressive. She glanced at the leather satchel, knowing it held some of her own gowns. She was weary of this deception and wished she could throw off this disguise and be herself. But no, she had promised her mother that she would pretend to be a woman of the harem, and she would keep her promise.

When the light knock fell on her door, Brittany scrambled to pull on her veil. She opened the door to find Achmed beaming at her.

“Did you have a nice afternoon sleep, little mistress?” he inquired, with the same concern as a protective mother. “I fear you will suffer from the heat.”

“Yes, it was too hot to sleep.” She looked wistfully out the porthole. “I wish I could go on deck and walk in the cool breeze. I do not like it here.”

“Oh, no, little mistress, you cannot do that. The captain has forbidden it, and I would not advise that you go against his orders.”

“I do not care if he objects or not. I will not stay in here like a prisoner.” She wrapped her blue veil about her face so nothing but her eyes showed. “I
am
going on deck; you can come or stay, just as you please.”

Achmed smiled at her. “I will come with you, mistress, but do not blame me if the captain throws you in the brig. He is
not at all happy that you are on board his ship. He would welcome the chance to be rid of you.”

“I am…not frightened of that man.” Her voice did not sound convincing, and Achmed smiled.

“Very well, mistress, shall we go topside?”

She hesitated at the door, but when Achmed’s laughter rang out, she straightened her spine and moved purposefully down the companionway. With a show of bravado, she stepped out into the sunshine and moved quickly to the railing, fearing she would lose her nerve. She avoided looking up at the helm, lest the captain was there. She was aware of the curious stares the crew members cast in her direction, but she paid them no heed.

The sight that met Brittany’s eyes left her speechless. The waters of the Mediterranean were so shimmering and motionless that the surface looked like a bottomless mirror. The sky was blue and the air was clean. In the distance, she could see high cliffs, which she pointed out to Achmed.

“What country do you suppose that could be?” she asked eagerly.

“I am uncertain, but I shall ask,” he said, moving away before she could stop him.

Brittany breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Achmed approach not the infamous Captain Stoddard, but his first mate. After conversing with Mr. Hamish for a time, they both walked toward Brittany.

Smiling, Cappy Hamish approached the veiled woman. “Tell your mistress…” Cappy began, “that what she is seeing is the southern coast of Spain. Tonight we shall go through the Strait of Gibraltar, and tomorrow we shall reach the Atlantic Ocean.”

Pretending that Brittany did not speak English, Achmed translated for her, although she understood Mr. Hamish very well.

“Ask Mr. Hamish if we are going to put in anywhere, or if we are going to sail straight for America,” she said in the Turkish language.

While Achmed translated, Cappy nodded. “Tell your mistress that we will be putting in at the Canary Islands for some needed repairs.”

Brittany liked the first mate—he was nothing like his overbearing captain. She judged him to be near Simijin’s age. He was stocky and had soft gray eyes and graying hair. He had a ready smile, and he did not try to make her feel like an inferior, as his captain had.

A loud voice called out in anger, and Brittany moved closer to the railing as Captain Stoddard approached. “Achmed, I thought I told you to keep this woman below deck except at the hour I specified.”

“My mistress is unaccustomed to being shut in such a limited space. She needed air.”

Thorn’s eyes settled on the veiled figure. “Tell your mistress she will do as I command. If she finds her quarters too cramped, she might want to consider going ashore at the Canary Islands and finding another ship to take her to her destination. Perhaps she will fare better with a ship that is headed for England. That was her original destination, was it not?”

Achmed smiled. “That was the first destination. Since then, it was decided that she will go to Philadelphia.”

Thorn looked dumbfounded. “What can either of you know about Philadelphia? Have you ever been there?”

Achmed’s eyes suddenly became secretive. “I have not been there myself, but it is my master’s wish that my mistress be taken there.”

Thorn glanced out to sea. “If you obey me, I may consider taking you as far as Charleston, South Carolina, but you will have to find your own transportation to Philadelphia. Until then, keep this woman where she belongs. I am sure she is accustomed to always getting her own way, but I will not tolerate my orders being disobeyed. Tell her that.”

Brittany stared at Thorn Stoddard through her misty veil. Surely the blue of the sea was reflected in this American’s eyes. She found herself wanting to reach out and touch his
clean-shaven face. Instead, she turned away, moving across the deck. She felt lost and alone. She had never known unkindness, and she found it unsettling.

The heat intensified as the day progressed. Since she was accustomed to bathing each day, Brittany could no longer tolerate washing herself out of the pail of water that was allotted her. She had sent Achmed to the captain to deliver her demands for a tub and enough water for a bath.

Achmed now stood before the captain, his legs widespread, his arms crossed over his chest, mustering as much dignity as he could summon.

“My mistress has asked if it would be possible for her to have a tub bath. She is unaccustomed to this heat, and has always taken a daily bath.”

Thorn glared at the man. “Is there anything else that she would like?” he asked ironically.

“Yes,” Achmed answered, choosing to ignore the captain’s ill humor. “Since we will be stopping at the islands, I wonder if it would be possible to acquire silk bedding for my mistress. Her skin is so delicate that the rough sheets on her bed make her uncomfortable.”

Thorn looked at the man with little understanding of his devotion to such a spoiled and pampered woman. “Tell your mistress she will have to make do with what she has. As for a tub bath, that will be impossible until we take on fresh water.”