Chapter 19

19

AUGUST 13, 1727 FLORIDA COAST

I had a lot of time to think about Lewis and our visit to Como Park as I stayed in Marcus's cabin the next week. My energy had returned, though my joints were still stiff and painful first thing in the morning. As I moved around the cabin, stretching and cleaning, the pain began to ease. Dr. Hartville visited me daily and reassured me that my body would heal with time if I continued to rest when needed. I had already made so much progress, it was easy to believe him.

My days were pleasant as I sat near the windows and watched the dolphins play in the lagoon and birds flutter about the barrier island. This was what my heart longed for—the simplicity of life. No radio broadcasts, no pressure to sing and perform, and no unrealistic expectations. The only secret I had to keep here was my gender, and in the cabin, with no one watching, I didn't even have to worry about that. I could be myself completely.

The captain had ordered three of his smallest crew members to work on recovery efforts. These men were bringing up handfuls of coins on each dive, and none of them had suffered from diving sickness like I had.

As I sat in Marcus's cabin, the sun had already set, but the lamp offered enough light for me to see the book in my lap.

It was Marcus's Bible. I had pulled it off the shelf today, curious about his family. After reading through the names and the dates, I began to thumb through the thin pages and found myself lost in the book of John. I had always loved the way John saw his relationship with Jesus, as the one whom Jesus loved. Perhaps it was because I had not felt that same love, had instead felt that I could not draw close to God because of this burden I carried from birth. I longed to see myself as John saw himself.

Lyrics from "Amazing Grace" filled my mind and heart, and I began to hum the song. Here, in the quiet, simple cabin, the words were the same, but the meaning had more impact. I wasn't singing for a crowd of a thousand. I was singing for an Audience of One.

A noise at the door brought my head up. My heart sped when Marcus entered. His arms were laden with plates of food, and when he saw me, he smiled.

"I've missed the sound of your song," he said. "'Tis good to hear it again."

As always, my cheeks warmed under his praise.

"How do you fare today, lass?" he asked.

I rose and set the Bible aside to help him with the food. "I'm feeling much stronger."

And even more so now that he was home.

The thought caught me off guard. And I wondered when I had started to think of this small cabin on the Ocean Curse as home. Did the peace I felt here have something to do with it feeling like home, or was it Marcus, and him alone, that made me feel as if I belonged in this unlikely place?

He continued to examine me as he set the food on the table. "Your color is better today, and your eyes look clear and bonnie again."

My pulse sped at his compliment, and not for the first time, I wished I could wear a pretty dress to highlight my curves and style my hair to look more attractive. But even without all my feminine accoutrements, he still thought I was pretty.

We sat across from one another at the table, but Marcus's gaze fell on the Bible.

"I hope you don't mind," I said.

"Nay." He left the table and retrieved the Bible. "I don't mind at all."

When he sat down again, he ran his hand over the worn binding and said, "Do you believe in God, Caroline?"

I had shared a lot about my other life with him, but I had not told him much about my father or his profession. Perhaps I hadn't wanted him to expect me to be perfect. "My father in 1927 is a well-known minister. He preaches to people all over the world through the radio. I grew up reading the Bible, attending Sunday school, and sitting through hours of his sermons."

Marcus's brown eyes were probing as he said, "Just because you attend church and read the Bible doesn't mean you believe."

I sighed as I pushed my boiled beef around the plate with my fork. "My relationship with God is complicated."

"I can understand that."

"What about you?" I asked him. "Do you believe?"

"Aye, with all my heart. But my relationship with God is complicated, too."

"Mayhap 'tis complicated for most people."

"It didn't seem that way for my mam."

"I suppose it doesn't seem that way for my parents, either. If my grandmother hadn't cursed my mother and me, mayhap my relationship with God would be easier."

"But what if it wasn't a curse? What if God chose for you to be born with two lives?"

He had suggested that one other time. I'd wrestled with that idea, but I couldn't imagine how or why.

"Here." He opened the Bible to the book of John, not far from where I'd been reading, and found chapter nine. "When Jesus came upon the man born blind from birth, His disciples asked if the man was blind because of his sin, or because of his parents' sin. But Jesus said it was neither. That he had been born blind so that God could manifest His power and goodness through the man."

I stared at Marcus, frowning. "What does that mean?"

"Mayhap you were born this way so God can work through your life, Caroline. Not because your mother or grandmother sinned, but because God has a plan for you." He shook his head. "I chose to sin against my mother, and I choose to continue to live as a pirate. I know 'tis not what God wants, but I don't know how to stop. That's what complicates my relationship with Him. But you didn't choose to sin against God. Even if your mother and grandmother did, that is not your guilt or shame to bear. Boldly walk before God and believe He hears you and sees you. Look for His blessings and don't let the sins of your ancestors stop you from taking hold of God's goodness."

I stared at him, surprised at his passion and fervor. "You could be a preacher."

He slowly closed the Bible, but he let his hand rest upon it. "Aye, mayhap if I'd made different decisions, God would want me."

I laid my hand over his, wanting to minister to his heart and soul like he'd just done to mine. "God didn't send Jesus for the healthy, Marcus. He sent Him for the sinner. He sent Him for all of us. There is not a preacher alive who can stand blameless before God. We can't change the past, but we can change the future. No matter how long you're gone, you can always return home."

He had not lifted his gaze from our hands, but when he did, there was so much pain and heartache.

"I wish it was that easy." He turned his hand to clasp mine, running his thumb gently over my skin. Under the formidable exterior of Marcus Zale's pirate life, there was a tender, complex man.

Silver threads of pleasure tingled up my spine and wrapped around my heart. I couldn't hide my feelings from him, no matter how hard I tried.

"Caroline..." He said my name with such longing, hope flickered to life within my chest. For just a moment, he opened the door to his soul, and I could see the internal battle he was facing before he shuttered it again, gently pulling his hand away. "I don't want to hurt you the way I have everyone else I've ever cared for."

"You won't hurt me," I said, though I knew it wasn't true. Every time he robbed another ship, it would hurt me.

"The other day, when I watched you get lowered in that diving bell, I felt powerless to protect you, and it was the worst feeling in the world. And then, when you became sick, it felt like my heart was pulled from my chest. You don't belong here, lass, and the longer you stay, the more powerless I become." The emotions upon his face became so intense, he stood and walked to the window, where I couldn't see them. "I can't protect you like I want, and I can't watch you suffer, as I have the past two weeks. It would kill me."

"Then come away with me," I pleaded, leaving the table to join him. I stood just behind him—so close, yet it felt as if the ocean stood between us.

"I wish it was that simple," he said quietly. "My life is bound to Captain Zale's. I hold too many of his secrets for him to let me leave without a fight."

I slipped my hand into his, taking a step closer, and lifted my other hand to wrap around his arm, leaning into him.

He curled his fingers around mine and then turned, his eyes searching mine, before he lifted his free hand to my cheek.

My heart felt as if it stopped beating. Was this how my mother felt when she fell in love with Sam Delaney? Throwing all caution to the wind for the man she loved? Because in this moment, I was willing to sacrifice almost everything for the man who stood before me.

Marcus lowered his forehead to mine, and I closed my eyes, loving the feel of him being so close yet hating the things that were pulling us apart.

"I can't let you throw your life away." His words were so strained, I knew it took strength for him to speak them. "Every night I go to sleep, I wonder if tomorrow will be the day I die. 'Tis a miracle that I've lived this long. I can't bear to wonder if the same fate awaits you or what might happen if I died and you were left here without me. I want you to be happy and safe—I want you to have the life you desire."

He was the first person who had ever uttered those words to me. Grandfather wanted me to have the life that would benefit him. My mother and father in 1927 wanted me to have the life they deemed right for me. And Annie Barker didn't seem to care.

Marcus wanted me to have the life that I desired, yet I couldn't imagine what kind of life that would be without him.

He slowly pulled away, resolve in his face. "When you were unconscious, and I didn't know if you'd live, I thought a lot about your grandfather and your nanny. I imagined how hard it would be for them to learn that you had been taken captive on a pirate ship and then perished. I'm sure they're sick with worry and would like to know where you are. And I realized you were right. I need to find my mam and tell her I'm sorry. Just like your grandfather, she shouldn't live the rest of her life wondering about me."

"At least my illness brought about something good." I tried to smile.

"Your people need to know where you are, lass," he continued, his resolve stronger.

I took a step away from him. He didn't let my hand go.

"I can't return to South Carolina. My grandfather will force me to marry—"

"You needn't return home unless you want. But you should post a letter to him, at the very least." He took a deep breath and finally let my hand go. "And then I will take you to Massachusetts and find my mam and see if there is a place there for you."

My heart was too heavy to speak, but I finally asked, "And what will you do?"

He turned back to the window. "The only thing I know."

Marcus would stay the course as a pirate. Not because he wanted to, but because he believed he didn't have a choice.

AUGUST 14, 1727 FLORIDA COAST

I'd had time to think about Marcus's words as I gave piano lessons in 1927 and listened to my father's plans for his tent revival. The truth had settled in my heart, and I knew Marcus was right. I owed my grandfather a letter, at the very least, though I couldn't think of a way to explain why I'd left.

Marcus was gone when I woke up the next morning, but he'd left breakfast on the table for me. I was tired of being idle, so as soon as I finished eating, I decided it was time to return to my duties.

I was still a little stiff and sore as I exited Marcus's cabin that morning.

The sun was bright, and it blinded me as I stood on the poop deck and surveyed the ship. The tall masts, sails, ropes, and cannons had become familiar to me. At least a hundred pirates were going about their work or resting on the main deck under the hot Florida sun. Some were mending clothing, a few were playing cards, and still others were napping.

The nearby island was marshy and uninhabited, offering cover from passing naval vessels that would recognize the Ocean Curse . The birds that inhabited it were making a cacophony of sounds.

After I deposited the dirty dishes in the galley, I went back up to the main deck and Timothy spotted me as he came out of the forecastle. I hadn't spoken to him since the morning of the diving bell incident.

"'Tis good to see you up and about again," he said with a broad smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Still a little sore, but I'm restless lying about the cabin."

A few older pirates were sitting in a group nearby, mending a stained sail, and I noticed their interest in Timothy and me. The grizzliest of them scowled at me while the others spoke in hushed tones.

I moved toward the opposite rail as Timothy followed.

"Are the rumors still persisting about a Jonah on board?" I asked him.

"Aye, but the rumors have shifted a bit."

I frowned. "What are they saying now?"

"They're now certain the Jonah is a woman." He spoke quietly as he bent his head toward mine. "And they think they know who it might be."

My stomach felt queasy again, and I was suddenly weak. Marcus would be near the recovery site, over an hour away. If I was overtaken by a horde of superstitious pirates, it would be too late for him to help me. I was almost too afraid to ask, but I had to know. "Who?"

"Ned."

"Ned?" I spoke louder than I intended, so I lowered my voice and drew closer to Timothy. "The captain's cabin boy?"

"Aye. Just watch him—you'll see it, too. I don't know how I missed it before."

I scanned the deck, looking for a glimpse of Ned, but Timothy shook his head. "He's not here. He always stays close to the captain's cabin and doesn't speak to anyone other than the captain. That's why no one has confronted him yet. If you really look at him, you'll see that he has fine features and small hands."

Fine features? I turned my face away from Timothy, afraid he might look too closely at me and see that I had the delicate hands and face of a woman.

"I've worked alongside Ned," I told him. "I've never suspected he's a woman." Yet as the words left my mouth, I realized the benefit of others turning their attention to Ned—and away from me. "But I'll keep my eyes on him."

"My father warned me about the dangers of having a woman on a ship, so if you suspect 'tis true, you'll need to alert the captain."

I nodded, wanting to change the subject. "How did your father feel about you going to sea? If he was a pirate, was he afraid you might become one, too?"

Timothy shook his head. "He thought I was too smart to become a pirate, but the more time I spend on the Ocean Curse , the more I can see the allure."

"You aren't thinking of staying with them, are you?"

He lifted his shoulder and stared at the lagoon where the shimmering water was reflecting the bright sun. "Merchant ships don't pay well, and they treat their sailors abominably. The abuse I suffered on the Adventurer was hard to endure. Here, I have a vote, and I know I'll share in the treasure that's recovered from the shipwreck."

"The treasure is one thing," I said, feeling anxious to convince him that the pirate's life wasn't for him. "What about when you're called upon to rob and loot another ship? You don't want to be a criminal, do you?"

"It suited my father for a time."

"But the king isn't offering pardons anymore. There's only one way to leave pirating—death." It was the bitter reality Marcus also faced.

"Are you still planning to escape, Carl?" he asked, looking closely at me again.

It was a hard question to answer. If Timothy turned on me, and Marcus tried to help me escape, would Timothy tell someone?

"I don't want to be a pirate," I said, trying to be evasive. "But, if the captain finds the treasure he's looking for, mayhap he'll stop plundering other vessels and let some of his crew go."

"Captain Zale will never stop pirating. 'Tis in his blood, same as Marcus. They'll go down with this ship. Besides, they haven't found the Queen's Dowry, and they're not likely to, if my father's tale is true."

Frowning, I asked, "What tale?"

He moved closer to me, until our shoulders were brushing, and cast a look behind him before saying, quietly, "My father was a privateer for the British during the War of Spanish Succession, but after the war, he worked for different merchantmen while trying to support my mother and three children. He wanted to be in command of his own ship but knew the only way he might do that was to become a pirate. In 1717, he found himself in Savannah, Georgia, without a farthing to his name, tired of the abuses he'd suffered as a merchant sailor. He met two Spaniards who claimed to have been on the 1715 treasure fleet and had survived the hurricane.

"The Spaniards were drinking heavily, so it didn't take much to get them to talk, and they told him they knew the location of the Queen's Dowry. But it's not where most people think. They'd been waiting until the initial search had died down and were planning to go back and get it themselves. My father convinced them to tell him where the treasure was located." Timothy shook his head. "He was desperate and destitute, which makes for a dangerous combination. When he left the tavern that night, he alerted two naval officers about the Spaniards. They were so drunk, they were easily overtaken and pressed into service for His Majesty's Navy."

My eyes widened as I listened intently to Timothy's story.

"My father planned to go after the Queen's Dowry himself, but he needed a ship. So, he started small, overtaking first a fishing vessel, then a small sloop. He found other desperate men who joined his crew, and soon, they had a frigate at their command. They were bold and reckless, but my father hated every minute of it. He hated seeing fear in the eyes of the men he robbed. His conscience was eating him alive, so when he got word that my mother had died in childbirth with their fourth child, he knew we needed him. He turned himself in to Governor Eden in South Carolina and received the King's Pardon before making his way home to Boston."

"He gave up on the Queen's Dowry?" I whispered.

Timothy nodded. "He said no treasure in the world was worth his sons growing up as orphans."

"'Tis an admirable tale, Timothy."

"My father is a good man."

I pressed closer to Timothy, so no one would hear. "Did he ever tell you where the treasure is hiding?"

"Nay. He said that no man should live with the temptation he has. It's been a constant battle to not go after it. But he remarried and has another passel of children and won't leave them or his wife to chase after gold."

"You must be feeling better," a deep, male voice said from behind us.

I spun, my heart racing as Timothy jumped.

Marcus stood on the main deck, his feet planted and his arms crossed.

Something stormy swirled in his gaze—something I'd never seen before. Jealousy?

Timothy was gone by the time I turned back to the railing.

"Should you be up and about?" Marcus asked me, a challenge in his voice.

I was feeling tired again, but I lifted my chin, not willing to let on that I was exhausted. "You're back early."

"I never left. The captain has called off the recovery efforts. We'll meet tonight to discuss our next move."

"Will we head north?"

"Aye." His arms were still crossed, and his gaze followed Timothy before he looked back at me. "But I don't think you'll like where the captain's heading next."

I leaned against the railing, suddenly feeling weaker still. There was only one place I didn't want to go.

"Charleston?"

With his brief nod, my heart fell.