Page 121 of The Sea Witch
“Ben.” Her gaze held his. “If you’re hurt... if something happens to you...” She cleared her throat, and glanced away. “I don’t want to have to drag your corpse back to the jolly boat.”
At her gruff words, he gave her a reassuring nod. “When you row back to theSea Witch, I’ll be right there beside you, alive. That’s my vow.”
She exhaled and offered him a wry smile. “I should know better. The man who chased me onto my ship, climbed the mainmast of my ship while in irons, scaled a waterfall, and killed an unkillable Redthorn—a man like that, well, he won’t go down easily.”
He glanced over his shoulder and tipped his head toward the approaching dock.
“We’ve a contingent waiting to greet us,” he noted. “Three people, armed with pistols and blades.”
“Lambert’s majordomo, Janssens. The other two are part of the group who keep order on the estate.Order’s a relative term.”
Turning back to his task of manning the oars, Ben rowed the jolly boat to the dock. Dozens of other jolly boats and cutters were tied to the dock, final proof of how many other people were at the enclave. He tossed a line to one of the guards, who tied them to a cleat with quick practiced movements.
“Captain Tanner,” said a man with ruddy cheeks and a long full wig. His accent marked him as from the Lowlands of Europe. “An unexpected surprise.”
“Surprises are always unexpected, Mr. Janssens.” Alys stood and planted her hands on her hips. “That’s what makes them surprising.”
“Arriving with a guest.” Janssens eyed Ben. “We have not had the pleasure of meeting you, er...”
“Prowse.” Ben climbed onto the pier and helped Alys up. “Bloody Ben Prowse.”
He tried to imbue perfect ease and confidence in his voice, making certain to look at Janssens as if he expected to be given his due.
“The Terror of Madagascar,” Alys added. She looked at Ben with pride, and patted her hand on his chest. “Bloody Ben and I have been sharing a berth for months now.”
“Well...” The majordomo looked uncertain. “If you are willing to vouch for him, Captain Tanner...”
“I wouldn’t have him in my berth if I didn’t trust him,” she snapped. “And I wouldn’t bring him here if I feared betrayal.”
“As you please, Captain Tanner,” Janssens replied with the smooth cadence of one well used to pirates and their quick tempers. He waved toward a path that wended through a grove of copperwood trees. “I believe you know the way.”
Alys tossed him a doubloon before sauntering down the pier, toward the house. As Ben strode past the majordomo and the two scowling guards, he gave them all a jaunty salute, before hurrying to catch up with Alys’s long easy strides. Even here, simply walking away from the pier, she imbued her gait with self-assurance. Regardless of any uncertainty she struggled with in her heart, the confident pirate captain was a role she inhabited well.
“That went well,” Ben said as they continued on the path.
“The first obstacle.” Her gaze was fixed ahead. “More await.”
They emerged from the copperwood trees onto a broad... Lawn was too lofty a term for it. Once it might have been a neatly tended and trimmed terrace. Now, it was overgrown with all manner of plants, both native and imported, including fever grass, sea marigold, and paradise plum shrubs. They formed a sprawling expanse leading to an enormous manor house. The structure itself was built in the colonial style, with tall columns supporting a portico at the front, two stories boasting lofty windows protected by shutters, and a sharply pitched roof. Like the lawn, the house itself had likely seen more well-tended days, as vines grew wildly up the sides, and large patches of paint had stripped away from the exterior walls like peeling skin. Several shutters hung askew, and a few of the windows were broken.
People lolled on the front veranda, and draped themselves on the steps leading to the front door. Most of them appeared unconscious—or dead. Bottles were strewn around them. One of the loungers stirred and sat up. He shouted something unintelligible as he pointed at Alys and Ben.
“We caught Lambert throwing one of his bashes. This one’s a real ripper, too. Look lively, Bloody Ben,” she said under her breath and winked at him.
Taking in a deep breath, he took Alys’s hand in his.
He kept his pace deliberately loose and long-limbed as he swaggered toward the manor. As they approached, music lurched out of the open front door, a cacophony of fiddles, drums, and woodwinds.
Bleary-eyed revelers watched as he and Alys climbed the steps. The pirate who had pointed at them had used up his remaining sobriety and now observed Ben through half-slitted eyes as he lay, spread-eagle, on the stairs.
A middle-aged man in a gold brocade coat came out of the manor. A woman hung on each of his arms. One of them petted the fringe of light brown hair that ringed his head.He possessed the mealy features that came from aristocratic breeding. His nose was red with broken capillaries, but his eyes were sharp as he took in Alys and Ben coming toward him. He walked as though, at one point in his life, he’d had a dancing master.
“Tanner,” he said neutrally.
“Lambert,” she answered. “We’re in need of your famed hospitality. We came at the right time, too. Even your legendary parties can’t compare to this one.”
“Word about what happened to Fontaine has been spreading across the Caribbean.” Lambert’s words were smooth and cultured, clearly the product of a public school education back in England. “A fate that might await every pirate. If our time on this Earth is short, then by God, we’ll end our days in a blaze of revelry.”
“And what a revelry it is,” Alys agreed.
