The Sea Hawk (9 page)

With a smile, Julia curtseyed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Joaquin. I am Julia." Seeing the expression on his face, she said, "
Je m'appelle Julia.
"

"My English she no so good," Joaquin said. Reaching into the pocket of his baggy breeches, he pulled out a napkin and handed it to Julia. "
Faucon
say you eat."

Taking the small bundle, Julia uncovered a generous chunk of dark bread, a small wedge of cheese, and an apple cut into slices. Suddenly she was hungry and popped an apple slice into her mouth. Motioning with her head, she draped her arm around Joaquin's shoulder and the two left the bow of the ship, speaking a mixture of French and English. As they walked and laughed, Julia noticed the tall figure standing on the wheel deck, hands clasped behind her back, wind ruffling her short dark hair and white shirt.

"
Faucon
say we go home," Joaquin said.

"Where is home, Joaquin?" Julia asked, returning her attention to the boy.

"Martinique. Seven or eight days by good wind."

Nodding, Julia continued eating.

Simone had been watching Julia since she stepped on deck and wandered to the ship's bow. The English woman seemed to be lost, but Simone was pleased when she engaged easily in conversation with Joaquin. It would do him well to improve his English skills. The boy was fluent in French and Spanish already and Simone knew he was quite inquisitive and bright. He was only five when he and Esperanza boarded
Le Faucon
, but already knew as much about the ship as some of her crew. It did her heart good to see him laugh at whatever Julia was saying. The English woman seemed at ease with the boy and Simone couldn't help but notice how her smile changed her face and demeanor.

It would be good to see Martinique again, Simone thought. It had been nearly a year since
Le Faucon
had returned. She missed her horses and she knew her crew missed their families. If she were smart she would put into Martinique and remain there. She was tired of her life as a privateer and the British blockade of the American ports made shipping more unpredictable. She didn't need an excuse to attack British vessels, but she was finding less and less satisfaction with it as the years passed.

THAT EVENING JULIA once again declined an invitation to dine in the captain's cabin. Kitty's budding friendship with Simone's brother, Anton, occupied the redhead's evenings. Even after such a short period of time, she was obviously smitten with the young man. Like his sister, he was dark and handsome, but Kitty claimed he had a much softer side as well. A knock at the cabin door brought Julia back from a lazy nap. When she opened the door she found a tray in the passageway and gratefully ate everything on it. The sun was falling below the horizon when Julia made her way back on deck. This was her favorite part of the day. Even on Tybee Island she often sat on the dunes and simply watched the sun slowly disappear. She didn't think anything was quite as beautiful as the lingering rays of the sun shimmering across the top of the ocean. There were times she half expected to look into the water and see

the sun blinking up at her through the waves.

"
Mademoiselle
Julia!" Joaquin called.

Looking around, Julia spotted the boy standing on the wheel deck, waving to her. She smiled and returned the wave.

"Come! We play!" he called out.

Julia made her way across the deck and to the stairs leading onto the wheel deck. She saw Simone sitting at the rear of the deck, the dulcimer lying across her lap, and paused. Joaquin ran to Julia and offered her his hand. She smiled as she took it and allowed him to escort her to the bench encircling the deck. Simone looked up at their approach and then returned to tuning her instrument. As Julia sat, Simone asked, without looking at her, "Do you play an instrument,
Mademoiselle
Blanchard?"

"The piano," Julia said. "A little guitar."

Picking up an instrument, Simone handed it to Julia. "The mandolin is similar, but with a somewhat higher pitch." Picking up a second mandolin, Simone handed it to Joaquin. "Joaquin can assist you, if you have an interest."

Joaquin patiently showed Julia a few fingerings on the instrument. Simone noticed the Englishwoman didn't seem offended taking instruction from a child. She laughed easily at herself as she tried, but didn't quite make the right chords. Even with the elementary five or six notes Julia more or less conquered, Simone and Joaquin were able to come up with a few equally simple songs.

"Is that a mountain dulcimer?" Julia asked, indicating the instrument across Simone's thighs.

"Yes. You know of it?" Simone asked.

"I've...uh...seen others similar to it."

Touching the instrument tenderly, Simone said, "I met once an old man on one of my voyages who taught me to play. He made this one for me as a surprise the next time I returned."

"Then you should treasure it. You play beautifully." Julia smiled.

Simone seemed embarrassed and cleared her throat. Julia changed the subject. "Joaquin tells me we are going to Martinique."

"Yes. My crew and I are tired and it will do us good to return home, if only for a few days," Simone said.

"How is it that you managed to become a pirate?" Julia asked casually as she plucked at the strings of the mandolin.

"No!" Joaquin said, standing and glaring at Julia. "
Faucon
is not pirate! You insult her!"

Looking startled, Julia saw the anger on the boy's face, "Joaquin, I didn't..."

He turned away from Julia and bowed curtly to Simone.
"S'il vous plait, puis-je m'en aller?"

"
Certainement,
" Simone answered quietly as she drew him into a hug and whispered to him softly.

"I meant no offense to him...or you. I am so sorry," Julia said as she watched the boy stalk away.

"No matter. He is but a child and easily offended," Simone said, putting the instruments away. "I have watched you with Joaquin. You are good with him. He will soon forget the perceived insult. He is correct, however. Only the British consider me a pirate. The Columbians have issued letters of marque for my ships."

"Which makes you a privateer," Julia said calmly. "A legal pirate."

"You test your luck,
Madamoiselle
Blanchard." Simone smiled. "Which makes you either very brave or very stupid."

"I've been told that many times."
But mostly in the future.

"Although you have turned down my previous invitations, I would be honored if you joined me for dinner tomorrow evening," Simone offered.

"I doubt that would be a good idea, Captain, but I appreciate the invitation," Julia said, shivering slightly at the memory of a menacing voice in her ear.

"I could command your presence and have you brought to my cabin."

"But you won't."

"How do you know that?"

"It is not who you are."

With a smile, Simone said, "You do not know me at all, my dear." Julia Blanchard intrigued her. She was obviously well-educated, but afraid of something.

"If you will excuse me, Captain, I should find Joaquin and offer him my apologies," Julia said as she stood.

JULIA SPENT THE following week tutoring Joaquin to improve his English skills and she thought he was making remarkable progress. He was extremely intelligent and more than a little inquisitive. In return, he showed her parts of the ship and patiently explained the function of each. Julia, despite her profession, never found the opportunity to do much sailing and then only on small weekend craft. She preferred the feel of powerful motors beneath her feet to skim over the surface of the water. She understood the two or three sails on small sailboats, but the number and size of the sails on
Le Faucon de Mer
amazed her. To watch the crew work the sails so smoothly was awe-inspiring, like a ballet in the air above her.

Julia grew up outgoing and friendly, too friendly according to her father. As a child she would walk up to total strangers and hug them as if they were long lost relatives. In particular, her father took great joy in telling anyone interested of the time he took Julia with him to purchase a used car. Julia was no more than five, but immediately threw her small arms around the legs of the used car salesman who approached them. Her mother was never amused and worried constantly that Julia would be easy prey for anyone with less than honest intentions. Her tendency to wander away from her mother when they went shopping nearly drove the woman to use a collar and leash to keep tabs on her inquisitive and adventurous daughter.

Now, strolling the deck of a ship such as
Le Faucon de Mer
, Julia felt safe. There was nowhere to go and she might as well learn as much about the workings of the old ship as she could, just in case she ever had the chance to tell anyone about this adventure. The top deck carried ten eight-pound cannons, but Joaquin explained that the biggest cannons were two decks below and offered to show them to her, an offer she couldn't possibly refuse.

The cannon deck was amazingly well-kept with no debris lying around to obstruct them as they walked through it. Several men worked at repairing one or two of the cannons or their carriages and nodded at Joaquin as he led Julia through the area. Busily taking in everything around her, hoping she would remember it all, Julia glanced behind her and tripped on a heavy rope attached to one of the cannons. Before she hit the deck, a strong hand caught her, preventing the fall. Looking up, she saw the face of a smiling man who might have been in his mid-twenties. His face was roughened by the weather, but his smile was friendly.

"
Merci
," Julia said as she straightened herself. "Sometimes I am quite clumsy."

"The rope should not have been left in the walkway," he answered with a slight shrug.

Extending her hand, Julia introduced herself. "My name is Julia Blanchard."

Staring at her hand for a moment, the man wiped rough grimy hands down the sides of his pants and glanced at them quickly before accepting her hand. Bobbing his head in unison with the handshake, he said, "Jean-Claude."

"What are you doing to this cannon, Jean-Claude?" Julia asked when he finally released her hand.

"One of the wheels sticks. It is difficult to pull into the gun port. And there is a problem with the breach. It is pretty, but not of much use in a fight unless we roll it over the enemy's toes."

"What type of cannon is it?"

"This one was a gift to the former captain," Jean-Claude said with a chuckle. "Otherwise we would have dumped it in the ocean long ago."

Julia stepped over to the cannon and looked at it closely. "Is it French made?" The historian-scientist in her began to kick in as she ran her hand over the cool smooth surface of the cannon. Her fingers felt a raised section on the opposite side close to the breach and she peered over the cannon. A shiny brass plate slightly smaller than a three-by-five index card was attached to the body of the cannon.
Le Faucon de Mer
was clearly engraved into the brass plate. Looking at Jean-Claude and Joaquin, she managed, "You say it was a gift?"

Joaquin frowned. "The cannon was a gift to Captain Rochat."

"Who is Captain Rochat?" Julia asked, her fingers lingering on the nameplate.

"He was the ship's captain
Faucon
paid to help her and her brother escape from the British," Joaquin explained. His face became solemn as he continued. "He tortured her and forced her to become his paramour instead."

"Old Louis died almost fifteen years ago," Jean-Claude added. "It was then
Faucon
took control of the ship."

"Was he captured?" Julia asked.

"
Faucon
she killed him. She does not discuss it," Joaquin replied quietly. "She keeps the cannon to never forget that time in her life."

Julia glanced down at the brass plate once more.

AFTER SEVERAL HOURS exploring the decks and holds of the ship, Julia was beginning to grow tired. It was that damned sea air added to the warm, musty smell of the lower decks. Joaquin walked with her toward her cabin. When they reached the steps leading to the main deck, she stopped.

"I can find my way from here, Joaquin. Thank you for a wonderful tour of the ship," she said as she stroked his coarse hair.

"
Faucon
asked me to invite you to dinner this evening, Julia. She thought perhaps if I made the invitation you might agree to join us," Joaquin said.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the boy. "Thank you for the invitation, Joaquin, but I think I will take a nap. I will eat later."

Turning to climb the ladder, he stopped and looked back at Julia. "Why is it that you not like
Faucon
? She treats you with great respect."

"I do like the captain, Joaquin. But I have many things on my mind. I miss my family and am anxious to return to my home. Please give the captain my apologies."

Joaquin frowned, but didn't ask further questions as Julia watched him climb up the ladder. She would enjoy nothing more than spending time with Simone Moreau, but knew Esperanza would be there as well. She had no desire for another late night visit.

TWILIGHT WAS FADING away toward darkness as Julia made her way along the dim passageway from her cabin toward the ladder leading to the main deck. After a peaceful nap, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking motion of the ship, she was starving when she awoke. Kitty was nowhere to be found and Julia suspected she was with Anton again. Kitty was a spirited young woman and Julia hoped Anton was up to the task she was certain the young maid had in mind. She was smiling at her thoughts as she walked toward the ladder. A dim square of light shone onto the floor of the passageway. After Joaquin's guided tour she hoped she would be able to locate the galley and find a snack.

As she reached for the railing of the ladder, she was roughly grabbed from behind and pulled into a darkened recess in the passageway. "What the hell..." she began before a calloused hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Another arm encircled her waist. This time she knew she wasn't dealing with Esperanza. She struggled against her attacker and scratched at his hands. Away from the sparse light filtering into the passageway through the opening to the main deck, she was thrust against a wall. The hand didn't move from her mouth as a body pressed tightly against her, holding her in place while the second hand began groping her body and pulling her skirt up. She cringed as a rough hand scraped up her outer thigh. The skirt began bunching near her waist and she felt the arousal of her attacker pressing against her.
This cannot be happening!
She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to breathe normally to gather her thoughts as the man continued to fumble with her clothing.