Tessa awoke in the tiny cabin, having hardly slept. The unfamiliar
noises of the ship were bad enough, but it was the foul stench of the
mate's cabin that kept her from sleeping soundly. She arose in an
irascible mood, her rage simmering below the boiling point, and
marched out onto the deck, to a day just beginning and the sun peeking
over the calm ocean. The beauty of the day held no appeal for her as
she searched for Captain Stoner. She spied the captain on the upper
deck with the helmsman and strode up to him, tired and seething with
anger.
"I will not spend another night in that filth!" she spat. "I would
rather sleep on the open deck. You will have someone clean that cabin,
Capitan."
The captain started, taken aback by the sudden fury unleashed against
him, then smiled placatingly. "Of course, señorita. My apologies for
your discomfort. I will see to it immediately." Stoner turned on his
first mate, and rasped in his hoarse whisper. "Blake, get that cabin
in order or I'll have you keel-hauled." Turning back to Tessa, he said
sweetly, "Is there any other way I can be of service to you, Señorita
Alvarado? Some breakfast perhaps?"
His conciliatory manner surprised her, but then she reminded herself
that he was born a gentleman, and bred to respect women of her class.
And he expected her to act the part she was playing, a petulant and
spoiled Spanish aristocrat. She hated herself for it, but so far, it
was getting her fair treatment and hopefully, more.
"Actually, Capitan, I need some clothing. If I am to remain on this
ship for more than a few days, I cannot be expected to wear this
everyday," she gestured to her riding costume, a printed culotte skirt
and white blouse, soiled from the rough handling she suffered being
carried by the sailors. "A change of clothes, por favor." She smiled
into his eyes and he seemed to be lost for a second, then recovered.
"I have some things you might be able to use, señorita. We're of a
size, though I'm a lot heavier. Still, you could make do with some of
my shirts. They're clean and mended. I will have them sent to your
cabin—after it is cleaned, that is." He bowed graciously.
"You are most accommodating." For a pirate, she added to herself, then
smiled brightly at him. "One other thing. I am used to open spaces and
feel quite confined on this ship. Do you object to my walking around
the decks to take some exercise?"
"I have no objection. Go where you please." With a last warm look,
Tessa descended to the lower deck, heading toward the galley. The
captain followed her with his eyes, then sighed, laughing wryly at
himself. *There's no fool like an old fool,* he chided himself. *But
then I'm not so old,* he thought, appreciatively watching her lithe
form disappear below decks.
**********
Chapter Eight
Marta sat with her head in her hands, staring at the black lace mask.
*Madre mio, it never rains but it pours,* she thought desolately.
*Tessa is gone and the Queen of Swords is needed. If she does not
appear, Montoya will know it she is Tessa. I must do something but
what? Protect her identity, but how?* She stood, and paced the hidden
room, trying to plan but her mind was crowded by images of the ship,
Mary Rose II, sailing out of the small harbour, and her captain
standing on the deck, commanding the sailors as they hastened to
unfurl the sails and hoist the anchor. As the sails filled, the ship
seemed to take flight. She was a three-masted schooner, built for
speed, with two gunports on each side and another on the stern.
On shore, Marta had watched the beautiful vessel slide out of sight
around a point of land, heading for the open sea. How she longed to be
on that ship, but Mary Rose wanted her here to pretend some normalcy
while the lady buccaneer skimmed the ocean, searching for the pirates.
Marta considered the problem that now faced her. Ignacio had told her
that one of the few peasant free-holders was in danger of losing his
land. The man had been ill and could not pay his taxes. The Queen
would be expected to act, but she was far out on the ocean, and could
do nothing. *Or could she?*
**********
All that day and the next, Tessa strolled around the decks, getting
her sea legs finally. She stopped occasionally to watch a sailor
performing some task, or study some part of the ship. Soon, the
sailors took no notice of her as she ambled through the ship,
seemingly without any particular aim in mind.
Finally, leaning on the taffrail, she stared off the stern,
introspectively watching the ship's wake. She couldn't remember a time
when she had been without Marta for so long, and she missed her. Tessa
wondered how Marta was coping with her disappearance. *Has she given
me up for lost,* she wondered. *It's been three days but it seems much
longer. And what about the Queen of Swords? Has she been needed? What
will happen when she does not appear? Will Montoya put my
disappearance together with hers and know the truth?*
Forcing her thoughts back to the problem at hand, Tessa reviewed what
she had learned about the ship. It was a mid-sized vessel, about
ninety feet, very sleek and fast, carrying three masts of
square-rigged sails. The ship had five cannon, and the rest of the
weapons were kept in a locker for which only the captain had keys. She
had counted the number of sailors and other men on board,
thirty-eight, most of whom were young and fit. Tessa noted the sailors
all had knives but no other weapons.
Several visits to the galley had netted her some valuable stores of
food which Tessa had coaxed from the cook who was only too glad to
oblige her. She smiled, thinking of his round, flushed face as he
practically thrust handfuls of biscuits and dried fruit into her
hands. "Ye needs more meat on yer bones," the cook had said in very
bad Spanish, making her laugh. And while his attention was focussed on
getting her more food, she had filched a knife from a drawer and
dropped it into her boot. These items were hidden in the mate's cabin,
now neat and orderly, the smell of soap and pine tar replacing the
noxious odours she had put up with two nights before.
From her vantage point on the upper deck, Tessa turned and studied the
ship's boat hanging from davits off to the side of the rail. A rope at
each end held it up and she realized it would take two people to lower
the boat into the water. She experienced a momentary doubt about her
plan as she watched the boat swinging with the motion of the ship.
She didn't know where they were and though she had been observing all
the changes in direction, had no idea where they were going. The ship
had started out heading north, then slightly west and now due west,
straight out into open sea and away from land. She was puzzled. Should
they not be staying near Santa Helena to get the ransom money they
were expecting. Why were they sailing in the opposite direction?
*Unless...* She tried to stop banish that thought but it surfaced
anyway. Unless they never planned to pick up the ransom but only get
rid of her. *But why,* she pondered. *Who wants me out of the way?
Montoya makes no secret of wanting my land, but would he risk
kidnapping and murder to get it? What about Don Hidalgo? So many times
he has offered to buy my hacienda and I have refused him. Is this a
way to force my hand?* Tessa considered the benign countenance of the
don, always smiling and affable. *Behind that congenial facade, I have
seen a hard, calculating mind. He hides behind a mask and I am
becoming an expert on masks.*
Tessa smiled grimly as she brushed these pessimistic thoughts aside,
and concentrated on her plan. If all went well, she should be far away
from these villains by morning.
**********
Chapter Nine
Pietro pensively watched the woman walking toward him, the dispirited
set of her shoulders wrenching his heart. *She looks so sad,* he
thought with a deep sigh. *I could make her happy, if only she would
let me. Her mistress is gone, and she has no one now.* He felt a small
leap of hope. *Perhaps she will finally turn to me, as a friend at
first, and then....* He left the thought unfinished as he realized she
had noticed him, standing near the market square.
"Hola, Marta," he greeted with a heartiness he did not feel. She
looked up with a faint smile that disappeared quickly. Pietro gave her
a warm, compassionate look. He was unsure how to speak to her—as one
who has had a death in the family, or someone to whom one gives hope
and reassurance. Emboldened by her welcoming glance, he closed the
distance between them and said, "Has there been any news of your
mistress?" Mutely, she shook her head. Pietro continued, "I hope you
know you can come to me for anything, any help. I am always at your
service."
"Thank you, Pietro. There is nothing you can do. We must just wait and
hope for the best." Seeming to shake herself out of her despondent
mood, Marta added, "I have not seen you for a while. What have you
been doing?"
Her sudden interest in him thrilled him to the core. He beamed at her.
"I am in line for a promotion, beauty," he boasted. "The colonel has
noticed my devotion to duty and I shall be a sergeant soon. How about
that?"
"What have you done to deserve such an honour, Pietro, catch the Queen
of Swords?"
Pietro laughed heartily. "Nothing so exciting. I have made two gold
deliveries without the Queen intercepting them and stealing the gold.
My plan has worked to perfection, beauty, and I have caught Montoya's
eye. My rise in the ranks is assured." He pulled himself up
straighter. "And with a higher rank comes more money. I could afford a
wife..." He stopped, realizing he was going too fast. Marta looked
away quickly and started to move toward the market. Hastily, he said,
"Marta, I am very sorry for your loss. It breaks my heart to see you
so unhappy."
Marta's eyes snapped angrily and she said sharply, "It has only been
three days, and everyone has given her up for lost! Well, I have not!"
More gently, she said, "I know you mean well, Pietro. Forgive my
outburst. Tell me more about your promotion. About your excellent plan
for the gold shipments."
*********
Chapter Ten
The sea was calm and the moon flitted in and out of the streaming
clouds. It cast a faint light over the deck, aided dimly by the
lantern hanging on the ship's prow. A stealthy figure slipped onto the
main deck, moving swiftly toward the lifeboat. Stopping to ascertain
if she was seen, Tessa made her way silently to the side of the small
boat. Lifting the canvas which covered it, she slid several packages
inside, the cache of food she had pilfered from the galley, pausing to
listen for anyone coming near. She had planned to be away during the
midnight watch with only a small crew on duty.
Pulling the knife from her boot, she sawed at the rope holding one
side of the boat. When it was halfway through, she did the same to the
other end. *So far, so good,* she thought, moistening her mouth which
was dry with fear. Every noise jarred her nerves and Tessa kept
casting quick looks around in case anyone saw her. *Just a few more
cuts, and it will be in the water, and me with it.* Turning back to
the first rope, she lifted the knife and sliced down. The boat jerked
noisily and she held her breath. Swiftly, she cut the other rope, and
with a loud wrench, the ropes unravelled and the boat dropped into the
sea with a huge splash. *That sound would wake the dead,* she thought
in alarm. Heart in her throat, Tessa leapt over the rail and began to
clamber down a rope ladder toward the boat which was already drifting
away. She would have to swim after it.
"Don't move!" a voice shouted from just above her. A grim-faced sailor
scowled down at her, as she hung from the rope ladder, preparing to
jump into the sea. "I have orders to shoot if you try to escape, and
bejeeses, I will. Climb back up here, and be quick about it!" He spoke
in English, but his tone and gestures conveyed his meaning all too
well.
Tessa hesitated. How good a shot was he? The distance was only a
matter of ten feet, and she realized he couldn't miss from there. And
her lifeboat had floated a good distance away—it would be a long swim
to catch it. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she began to scale
back up the ladder. By the time she was climbing over the rail, a
large group of men had gathered, including Mr. Blake, the first mate.
"Well, look what you fished out of the sea, Mr. Billings. Good work."
Blake hauled Tessa off the rail, roughly manhandling her onto the
deck. "Our ransom just about got away. I don't take kindly to someone
trying to do me out of my share." He raised his hand to slap her, but
Tessa blocked his move and returned a punch to his stomach that
doubled him over, his breath expelled in a loud grunt. He recovered
and stood up, glaring wildly at her. "Hold her!" Tessa struggled but
two sailors grabbed her arms and pinioned them painfully behind her.
"I'll show you how a woman should treat a man. It's a lesson that you
need to learn, señorita."
Blake moved his face toward her and she could smell his fetid breath
only inches away as he tried to place his mouth on hers. She turned
her head away but he gripped her jaw painfully, forcing her to face
him. Reaching for the top of her blouse with his dirt-encrusted hand,
he slid it inside, touching her breast with his rough fingers. His
fevered eyes watched her with cruel amusement as she struggled in the
grip of the other sailors. With all her strength she tried to avoid
him, recoiling from the touch of his lips and hand. He suddenly jerked
up and backed away. Relieved, she looked into the cold malevolent eyes
of the captain who was holding a pistol to Blake's head.
"What the devil is going on here? Let her go!" The hoarse whisper
sounded chilling and deadly. In a body, the men stepped back and she
staggered a little from the sudden release. "Mr. Blake, explain
yourself!"
"She were tryin' to excape, Cap'n, and Mr. Billings caught `er. I were
just going to lock `er up in the cabin when you arrived, sir," Blake
said in English. "She cut the boat loose, and it's drifted away." He
gestured at the ravelled ropes hanging free where the lifeboat used to
be.
Captain Stoner turned his sharp gaze upon Tessa. "You were trying to
escape? In our boat?" In spite of his anger, Tessa saw a small gleam
in his eyes, something like amusement, or perhaps admiration. "Well,
your plan failed, señorita. Go back to your cabin." As Tessa moved
past the men, she heard Stoner say to the first mate, "As for you,
Blake, if you ever touch that woman again, I'll kill you." Though she
didn't understand his English words, the message in that harsh whisper
was clear enough. She took a small comfort in its threat.
Back in her cabin, a sudden reaction set in and Tessa began to tremble
as she tried to suppress the urge to tear the room apart, so great was
her frustration. Tears of rage coursed down her cheeks as she realized
her only chance of escape was gone. She was firmly in their hands now.
Pulling the knife from her boot, Tessa began the series of sword
drills taught her by Señor Torres. In spite of her exhaustion, she
needed some release for the anger boiling inside. As she exerted
herself, a fine sheen of sweat covered her, but she went on, though
her breathing was forced and ragged with weariness.
A muffled footstep near the door made her pause; she clenched the
knife more firmly as she turned to the sound.
"Señorita Alvarado." The unmistakable whisper of the captain came to
her faintly, and she tensed, waiting for him to open the door.
"Señorita," he said again, more forcefully.
"Go away!" she rasped, her voice strained with fatigue.
She heard him say, "I am sorry" then his footsteps died away, and she
relaxed slightly. Sorry for what, she wondered in fury. *Sorry your
men handled me so roughly, or sorry I didn't escape?* She held her
anger closely like a shield, and vowed to herself, *you'll be sorry
all right, sorry you ever met me!* With a tight smile, Tessa conceived
a bold new plan, recalling where the weapons locker was, and how she
would get into it. Yes, he would be sorry, she thought as she slashed
viciously through the air with an imaginary sword.
