Kit Black (4 page)

When I slipped through Roger's window, he was waiting for me with a grim face. I just knew that my mother had died. I didn't think I could cry over Madeline, my mother. I had believed that her death would come as a relief. She had suffered too long. But I did cry. I cried until my ribs ached, and all I could manage were dry gasps that hurt my throat. There seemed to be no more tears. She was so still and so thin, so unlike the laughing dark eyed woman of her youth.

There was something in her hand. I had to pry her fingers apart to get it. It was a medallion on a leather string. I looked at it carefully. It depicted a moon with a man's face. A grinning face. I don't know where it had come from. I showed it to Roger, and he told me it had been my father's. I covered my mother's face with the blanket and walked back to Roger's rooms with him. I was thinking about Armand, wondering if that blade had cut his eye. If I was honest with myself, part of my sadness was over the prospect of never seeing him again. I wondered if I would carry that picture I had of him forever in my mind's eye. Of his handsome face lowering to kiss me.

“We haven't got the funds for a burial. I'll take a rowboat out and put her into the sea,” Roger spoke as in a dream. “She said it would be alright, though she never liked the sea much herself. She doesn't deserve to be in the pauper's field.”

“Aye. That'll do, Roger.”

“What happened, lass? Where are your shoes?”

“I left them behind.” I sat down and looked at my feet. There were cuts on them, the bottoms black with soil.

“You got your gold pieces, didn't you?” Roger squinted at me, lighting his pipe.

I bit my lip. I had never been able to lie to Roger. Not in my entire life. The few times I did, he made me go out back to the bush and choose my own switch so he could whip me with it. I told him the truth always now. With a voice raspy from crying, I told him of what was offered and what I did in retaliation for it.

“There's many a fine lady who'd take a gent up on an offer like that,” he said. “You could be wearing those wide straw hats and silk dresses. You'd have enough shoes for an army.”

“I have no intention of taking him up on it.”

“Aye. Well, he won't be so pretty to look at with one eye gone.”

I cringed at that.

“He might send the authorities after you.”

“I don't think he knows where I live. I didn't tell him. There are lots of whore houses in Ajaccio.”

“Not many that house six foot blond boys named Kit, I'd imagine.”

I sighed. “I don't care. I hope I missed his damn eye, but he'll have a scar to remember me by. Did I hear that
The Black Moon
docked yesterday?”

“Aye. It did. What are you getting at, girl?”

“I'm planning to join her.”

“With Harris Gareth as captain? The man's a bastard if there ever was one. You'll not be safe, girl. That is a daft idea. I thought you'd done with that long ago.”

“I'll be fine, Roger. I've a week to get my boots and my sword. If I have to steal them, I will.”

“I'll be joinin' the crew of
The Black Moon
too, then. I'll not be lettin' you suffer that fate alone.”

“You're too old, Roger,” I called after him angrily as he walked away. “And I don't need a nursemaid.”

***

I was scrubbing pots for the cook three days later, when Roger came into the kitchen.

“There's someone to see you.”

I stared at him. “Who'd want to see me?”

“Your Frenchman. He has something of yours he wants to give to you.”

My heart was pounding furiously. “If it's the shoes I forgot and my bodice, tell him to throw them away.”

“He's insistent about seein' you, Kit. He's talking about revealing secrets, if you take my meaning.”

My face flamed. The bastard. The skunk. “Where is he?”

“I left him waiting in the lane. Oh,” Roger grinned. “You just missed the eye.” He went off chuckling heartily. Men.

I took a deep, shaky breath before I got up the nerve to walk to the back door. He was standing with his wide back to me. I let my eyes trail down his fine form, from the top of his head to his gloriously shiny boots.

“You wanted to see me?”

He whirled and smiled at me, seeming amused by my appearance. I wished I were wearing my hat so that I could tug it low over my eyes. I tried not to let it get to me. I was happy to see him in one piece. The only flaw was a cut to his eyebrow. It appeared to be split in two, and had been neatly stitched. There would be little scarring to show for the hardship.

“I'm sorry about your mother,” he said.

“Thank you. Is that why you came here?” It was hard not to remember the feel of him as I stood there. The velvet touch of his lips on mine, his soft fragrant hair against my face. Damned if I didn't want him again. My body was a great betrayer. If I were ever to get anywhere, get away from this beautiful looking man who held my heart prisoner, I would have to be one hell of a lot stronger than I was feeling.

“No, Kita. I've brought you something. And I will not take no for an answer.” He held out a muslin wrapped parcel to me. “Open it.”

I shook my head, trying not to meet the earnest gleam in his lovely jade eyes. I would most definitely not look at his mouth. That would be my undoing. “I told you I didn't—”

“Open it. I insist.”

I unwrapped the bundle, my heart in my throat. Inside was a pair of shiny new boots. They smelled of leather and bootblack. They were new, custom made, the stitching fine, the leather supple. I knew they had cost him more than the two pieces of gold I had thrown back at him.

“I can't take them.”

“Yes, you can.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “How did you know my size?” I longed to try them on, to walk in them, to wear something that would actually make my feet feel good for a change, rather than pinched and chaffing. I had never had a pair of new shoes before. And to think he'd gone to the trouble to do it. It overwhelmed me. After I'd been so obnoxious.

But then, his proposition had been odious and insulting, hadn't it?

“There's no sense telling me to take them back. I had them custom made. I took your slippers in with me and had these made larger. Try them.”

“I'll try them, but I won't keep them.”

I sat on one of the empty crates. I was ashamed of my crude stockings, dirty and full of holes. The boots were perfect. They slipped up over my ankles and calves with the littlest of tugs. There was room for my toes, and the heels didn't slip. I stood in them and looked at him, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. And I was finding it terribly hard not to cry, because, no one, absolutely no one but Roger had ever been so very kind and generous to me.

“You want me to change my mind about the offer you made me to live in Paris, don't you?”

“I want you to be comfortable, Kita. I don't see you being the type who changes her mind once it's made up.”

“I won't, you know.”

He seemed concerned. “You can't be serious about
The Black Moon
. I know it's docked somewhere near here. There are stories about this Gareth captain. He was once in the English Navy. They drummed him out for cruelty.”

“He's a privateer. And he's not said to be a slave smuggler.” I was going to kill Roger for telling him.

“He's said to be a brute. He's a pirate.”

I shrugged. “I can look after myself. If any man tries anything with me, he dies.”

He touched his injured brow. “I believe that. But you're too pretty, they'll know.”

I blushed. “I can do it.”

“I'll be worrying about you.”

“You have no cause to worry about me. You'll have a wife to worry over soon.”

“Yes, that's true. I wanted to ask you something else. Do you think there's any possibility that you may have conceived that night? I didn't take the precautions I'd meant to.”

I blushed. “No. I'm sure.”

“Kita,
Mon amour
, it can happen the first time. I want you to know that I'll—”

“I'm sure,” I interrupted him. “My monthly flow is on me now.” I didn't want him calling me his love. I didn't want that. Not ever.

He seemed relieved. Perhaps he was. I was not certain, it was hard to read his gaze. I suspected he was practiced at hiding his feelings, as are most military men.

“I have something else to give you.”

“I don't want anything else.”

“Ah, but you have to take it. It's of little use to me now.”

He removed his scabbard and the fine sword within, and handed it to me.

“No! I will not take your sword! Never.”

“I can't use it now.” He gave me a rueful smile. “You know what the legend says, don't you? We, Navy men, are very superstitious.”

I glared at him. “What legend?”

“If a man…” He grinned and looked at my bound breasts. “If a man has taken your sword and used it against you and draws blood, it will never be trusted again. I cannot use it. I'd risk death in battle.”

“That's not true.”

“It is. I would never lie to you.”

“That's silly.”

“I shall just leave it in the trash heap, then. It was a gift from my grandfather.”

“You can't.”

“I will.”

I looked at the sword, glistening like gold in the sun. It was a fine weapon, beautiful. There were letters carved into the hilt. AED. “What do they stand for?”

“Armand Etienne Dupuis.”

I sighed. “I'll take it, then. I'm sorry I took your luck. One day I'll return it to you and you can give it to your son.”

“Maybe I'll have a daughter.”

“Maybe she'll need a sword.” I could feel my throat thickening. “If you'll accept something from me, I'll take it and I'll look after it just as you would have.”

He nodded.

I pulled the medallion from out of my shirt and over my head, and laid it in his warm palm. “This was my father's. Now it is yours, Armand Etienne Dupuis.”

He smiled. “I'll wear it with pride, Kita. One day I'll return it to you.”

I nodded. My chin was trembling. I was going to cry. How I hated this. I didn't want to part with him, but he was not mine to keep. He would never be mine, not the way that I wanted him. I would never share him.

I took the sword, and wearing the boots which felt as light as clouds on my feet, I walked away from him. I didn't trust my voice to utter a goodbye.

“Kita?”

My God. Could he not leave me the hell alone? I felt two hot tears slip down my cheeks. I turned and looked over my shoulder. For once, my boots didn't stab my heels and toes and cause me pain. I stared into his sad eyes and hurled my self into his waiting arms. He lifted me up so that I was on my toes, hugging me hard against him. I could feel his heart pounding wildly against mine. I buried my nose in the warmth of his neck, my cheek abraded by the braid around his collar.

“Thank you,” I managed. “Truly, you are most kind.”

“My thoughts are hardly kind at the moment,” he said huskily. I could feel his hard hands pressing into my back.

I pulled away before he could kiss me. My God, I wanted him to kiss me. I craved it. His taste, his texture. He hadn't shaved so closely as the night we'd been together, and his beard prickled my skin.

“If anyone sees us, they'll think you're something else. I'm supposed to be a male.”

He laughed.

“I've got to go in now. I wish you well.”

“And I you. I wish things could have been different, Kita.”

I just nodded.

“God be with you, Kita,” he said softly.

“And with you, Armand Etienne Dupuis.”
And with you, my love.

Chapter 2

In a little less than three weeks, I had set sail on
The Black Moon
. Roger had joined with me, to my great anger, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Captain Gareth was glad to take him. There were few men who were stupid enough to join his crew.

As members of Gareth's crew, we sailed for the flag of England. And in doing that, I became, for all intents and purposes, the enemy of the man I loved, who sailed for the crown of France. Privateers appointed a Captain, one named by the sponsor, the country of origin. Pirates elected their captains, but he was easily ousted by another vote if he proved unfit for the job at hand. Privateers looted and killed in the name of the country that armed them, their actions condoned by that very same country. Pirates brought mayhem and destruction at will, flipping a coin to select which ship they would attack next.

I could see little difference between the two, really, but in my eyes the life of a pirate was better in many ways. And I rather wished for Captain Gareth to go down in history as a privateer, because he gave pirates a bad name. I hated him on sight. He was one of those small, puffed up little men, who ruled with brutality and no brains or heart. I suppose it made up for what he lacked in size. I'm sure his manly parts were no larger than my baby finger.

Many of the men on board the ship had once been in the Royal Navy, and had joined in order to make more than the usual ten pounds a year. Gareth did not make them much happier than the Navy had. The rum was scarce, the rations, too. Most of the men had left to escape the punishments inflicted by the British Naval officers, but Gareth's were worse.

I had not been flogged, yet. It seemed that Gareth had been in a good mood of late. I had done all I could to avoid making myself known to anyone as a troublemaker. I kept my head down and slouched a lot. I spoke only when spoken to. I found being on the ship the closest thing I could imagine to being in a jail, except in jail one wasn't tossed overboard in a storm as had happened to three of the crew the week before. We never saw them again. Jail was likely safer.

I had thought I'd be a swashbuckler. All I had signed on for was hard labor. But I loved the sea, I loved the smell of the air, and the blue of the sky. I was born for the sea. Sometimes, while lying in my hammock with my face stinging from sunburn, and my hands oozing from raw cuts and blisters, I remembered that I could have had a wide straw hat, a dress with real lace, and looking forward to nights in a high bed beneath Armand Dupuis.

There was someone I liked as my friend aboard. His name was Terry Norwell. He was quiet, almost mouse-like, an orphan from London a few years younger than myself. He had dreams of being a navigator. Instead, his job was to help Roger, who had signed on as the ship's cook. Some said he had run a way to avoid the workhouse. Roger was Captain Gareth's cook, who was the only one eating decently. He would come to deck burping, the remains of his dinner in his beard and down the front of himself. For the rest of us it was hardtack and cabbage soup made from salt pork. I think I lost a stone in weight the first week. I almost didn't have to bind my breasts anymore.

Terry used to look at me strangely in the beginning, so I asked him why he peered at me like a mouse.

He grinned. “I can't see well. I once had some spectacles, and they helped a lot.”

“What happened to them?”

“I did something the master didn't like, and he crushed them under his foot. I have part of one of the lenses left.” He showed it to me looped on a string around his neck.

“Bastard.” So many bastards in the world to abuse the poor. So few men like Roger. And Armand.

“Has the captain ever touched you?” I asked him one day.

He seemed perturbed, “He likes lads, he does. But not me. Thinks I'm too ugly.”

“Thank God.” I said with a pat on his shoulder.

“Heard him talk about you, though, Kit. He says you're pretty for a lad. He said he liked you hair and your eyes.”

I felt my meager ration of food rise up and choke me.

“Watch out for yourself.”

“Aye.” I decided I was going to cut off my hair first chance I got.

“If I ever get the chance, I'm going to jump this ship and join Jean Laffite. He's said to be a good man, Kit. A fair man.”

“Jean Laffite? A Frenchman?” The word Frenchman brought Armand to my mind. I spent nights dreaming of him. Sometimes I thought I would moan his name aloud and wake Terry and the other men. I thought about him a lot. Once, I dreamed that we looted a French vessel. I shook with fear when I saw that he was on it. I saw myself strike him down with his own sword and kill him. He lay face up on the deck, staring at me with those smoky jade eyes. I woke in a sweat.

But Gareth was such a lousy captain, and the ship so rife with wormholes, we couldn't catch a French ship if it pinched our butt. The ship was nothing more than a rat infested, dank smelling dungeon. We would sail to Jamaica empty handed.

Meanwhile, Terry went on about Laffite. Every day he would give me some new bit of gossip. “Laffite's a privateer. He calls himself an American, for what that's worth, and sails out of a place called Barataria Bay, south of New Orleans. He was arrested by a certain governor and failed to show up at the trial. The governor set a bounty for him in return. Laffite offered to double that price for the capture of the governor.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“Aye. Has a fleet of twenty ships now, Kit. None of his men starve, and they all get a good share in any loot taken.”

I smiled at him. “Maybe things will improve. Maybe some day we will share the loot, a fine island, and a hundred ships.”

But things got far worse before they did improve.

***

I spent a week below decks coating the insides of the leaking ship with oakum, a mixture of tar, sulfur, and tallow to repair the damage done by the teredo worms. It was slow going work, and the fumes made me sick. The concoction stained my face and my hands black. I couldn't strip to the waist like the others did to apply it. I had to wear my clothes to protect my identity. I was glad I couldn't look in a mirror to see the reflection of the girl Armand had once referred to as beautiful. At night in my hammock, I would touch the frazzled ends of my hair and cry.

Things changed somewhere near the middle of the return leg. I was exhausted, as were many of the crew. We had lost three men to fever and had to throw the bodies overboard. It was a bad day, but it was to end even worse.

Gareth had been drinking rum all day and was drunk by nightfall. He was angry with Terry, because he had made some sort of charting error. He had taken over for the ship's boatswain and navigator who had succumbed to the putrid sore throat. Terrified, Terry crouched on deck as a red faced, slobbering Gareth berated him. I thought he'd be lashed for sure, but his fate was to be something far worse. It was a heinous punishment. One of the men was to stuff Terry's mouth full of rags and oakum, the caulking compound. The disgusting substance would be set aflame. Few survived the burns. Others just choked to death.

I stared at Roger. “You can't let that happen.”

“How do we stop it? He has it in for the lad,” Roger hissed. He took my arm and squeezed it hard. “Leave off, Kit. If you interfere, you'll get the same.”

I tore out of his grasp, glared at him, and went over anyway. My legs were trembling, but I cared little then. Death did not seem such a bad thing at all. “This animal brutality is against the Articles.”

“The lamb speaks,” Gareth laughed drunkenly. “And he knows the articles.”

“Aye,” I said, sticking my chin out. “You've gone too far, Captain.”

“I have, have I, pretty laddie?”

“Aye.”

“And you'll be willing to take his place, then.”

Roger cried out my name, but I looked at Terry and at the tears flowing down his small face.

“Aye, I'll take his place.”

Gareth laughed. “Good. I'll take ye below to my cabin, then. We'll discuss this. We'll discuss the Articles of Piracy.”

He pushed me hard and I fell to my knees. Then he kicked me in the rear and sent me sprawling across the deck. Some of the men laughed heartily at his antics, but for the most part, they stared after us in grim silence.

His quarters reeked of urine. There were papers and unwashed articles of clothing everywhere. One of his pistols lay on a pile of maps.

“So, laddie, you think yourself a brave man, then?”

“No. I'm not much of a man.”

He laughed. “Aye. We'll see.” He came up behind me and fondled my buttocks.

“Very nice…rather soft for a lad. I like that.”

He groaned and reached between my legs, looking for something more, looking to undo my britches. The shock was what did him in. The fact that there was no penis on me to fondle. That's when I killed him.

***

Being the captain of a pirate ship is not the same as being the captain of a ship in the Royal Navy. Even the most successful pirate Captains had to endure a host of things from stealing food and drink from his own stock to his men bringing whores aboard ship. A Captain only assumed absolute power in battle or in a crisis like a storm at sea, and was allowed two shares of the booty and nothing else.

So I found myself a pirate captain once I commandeered
The Black Moon
. I was now the enemy of the English for having killed Gareth, and the enemy of all others because
The Black Moon
was now a pirate ship. A few of the men objected to a lady Captain. They were asked politely to leave at the next port, and I hired on some new crew. Terry was appointed quartermaster. We purchased spectacles at the next large port. He no longer had to squint through the broken shard around his neck. Roger became my boatswain, in charge of all maintenance and naval stores. I learned as I went along.

I think I made a fairly nice picture after I cleaned myself up. Sometimes I would catch the men gaping at me as I strolled the decks in my uniform of tight black breeches, long linen shirt, and vest. My boots from Armand were polished to a high shine. I had kept them safe in the bottom of my sea chest. His sword, long hidden in my bunk, was now strapped to my side. I still had the nightmares of meeting him and having to use it on him. Those were interspersed with dreams of him that were of such an erotic nature I'd wake up crying out and drenched with sweat. My hair had grown back to shoulder length and I kept it tied back with a black ribbon. I had a bath every week, even though the men would laugh at me. They shook their heads at the lengths I went to clean up Gareth's mess, but I was not about to risk putrid fevers again.

We set sail for the Barataria Bay where I would meet the great Jean Laffite and change the course of my life once again. I had just turned twenty-two and found myself living the dream I had held for so long. I was Kit Black, and I was a buccaneer. And yet, I was still in love with a man I'd thought I'd likely never see again.