Zoe Read online

  She didn’t mind the idea of Sheridan suffering with joint pains and fevers. She just wanted him to last long enough to keep the men on board away from her.

  “Use the leaves of the cabbage to cover the wound but cover them with the hot towel,” Douglas said. “How long has he had the fever? ”

  Zoé shook her head. “He’s suffering from it now. I think this is the beginning.”

  “Aye, well then. He’ll suffer for the next couple of days. Keep some water on hand. I’ll bring you his meals and some limes for him to suck on.”

  “Merci, monsieur.”

  Douglas smiled. “Zoé, is it? ”

  “Oui.”

  “You have a friend in me. Remember that.”

  Zoé smiled and had to blink to hold back a sudden rush of tears. “I will.”

  Douglas handed her the bowl and cabbage, and she turned to go. Just before climbing back up the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the cook whistling and cutting potatoes. God was so very mysterious, she thought. She felt that her father was looking down on her. He was protecting her, too.

  She took care to be silent as she went up the stairs and was relieved to find the corridor empty. Turning back to Sheridan’s quarters, she felt some of her sadness dissipate. She couldn’t think of her losses now; she needed to be smart and think of survival.

  EF La Roque boarded the Veuve Noire with Jean-Claude on his heels. The boy had asked to go with him. Discerning how much the boy loved Zoé and wanted to help her, La Roque had agreed.

  Ferdinand was at the helm. He was a free African rumored to indulge in piracy off the coast. When La Roque told him whom they were chasing, Ferdinand’s eyes glistened with murderous joy. He hated Delaflote for his own personal reasons, and would enjoy battling him on behalf of the lovely Zoé. He’d seen Bouchard on the docks, conducting business, and had heard that he was a kind and fair businessman. Furthermore, he’d heard the story of Bouchard’s doomed love affair with the beautiful African Capucine. That such a story should end with the daughter’s enslavement enraged the pirate’s unorthodox sense of gallantry.

  When they found Delaflote’s ship, they would have to take it by force. Ferdinand’s men looked to be ready for any battle.

  La Roque looked at the full moon and saw Zoé’s face in it. “Hold on my love. I’m coming.”

  EF Feeling a cramp in her back, Zoé rolled over and opened her eyes. As she felt the ship sway, she listened to Sheridan’s moans. She’d made herself a crude pallet on the floor at the foot of his bunk after tending to him.

  Sheridan was in so much pain and sweating so badly she feared he wouldn’t make it through the night. After he finally became so weakened from his ailment that he passed out, she changed into her nightgown and barricaded their door before giving into her own exhaustion. In the middle of the night, she awoke, terrified to see the doorknob being turned. The key in the lock and the chair propped under doorknob kept the door firmly in place, but that attempted break-in was enough to keep her sleeping with one eye open for the remainder of the night. While lying on the floor, she thought she heard women screaming, the sound drifting up to her. She prayed that she was wrong.

  Sheridan’s moans and groans grew louder. Sitting up, she saw that him shaking through his fever. He was pale and his lips looked purple. The shivering from head to toe was a sign that his fever might soon break. She got up, peeled more cabbage leaves free and repacked the infected area.

  “Here,” she whispered, “chew on this.” He shook his head from side to side, refusing the cabbage leaf and moaning. She saw his teeth chatter and knew he was feeling the worst of it. She grabbed his face, held it and forced the torn leaf between his lips.

  “If you don’t chew on it, it will get worse, and you can’t die on me. We have weeks left on this horrific boat.”

  He gagged and she shoved the lime into his mouth. Dazed he opened his eyes and looked at her. She felt a sense of irony that she would be helping someone whose only purpose was to make her his slave.

  “Look at you. I should show you no mercy for all the things you’ve done to me.”

  She reached for the bowl of water on the counter, dipped the rag in it and wrung it out. Then she went back to him, pulled back the sheets and looked at his bruises. She’d seen worse on some of her father’s helpers who had returned sick from voyages. She’d assisted Madame when an epidemic struck Narbonne.

  The fever and sweats were to be expected, but the bruising looked as if it was already on the mend. She looked over to the glass of cloudy liquid that Douglas made and realized that it must be responsible for Sheridan’s speedy recovery.

  He spit out the cabbage and turned his head. Zoé began to wipe down his face, neck, and chest, careful to soothe his bruises. He moaned and tried to twist away, but she kept carefully cleaning him and cooling his fever. Finally, she rose, grabbed the discarded cabbage and dropped it in the pail, then walked over to the table to retrieve the water for him to drink.

  There was a knock on the door. She froze, staring at the door in fear. She didn’t want the captain to know that Sheridan was sick; it would draw unwanted attention to them.

  “Lass, are you all right? ”

  With a sigh of relief she realized it was Douglas. She put her tankard down, then fixed her robe.

  “I brought some breakfast for you,” he said.

  “One moment!” she called out.

  She tied her robe, removed the chair she had propped against the door, and let him in. Smiling warmly, he brought in a tray laden with food. She watched him put the tray down and closed the door. He went over to Sheridan and looked at his bruising.

  “He seems to feel relief already,” she said.

  Douglas glanced back at her. He was dressed in the same sweat-stained white shirt and soiled apron, his belly round and pushing it outward. “He should be coming out of it by tonight. Make sure he drinks all of this: it’s my own remedy,” he said pointing a fat finger at the potion on the tray.

  Zoé nodded, somewhat relieved. She needed Sheridan up and making appearances on the ship. She thought of how someone had turned the doorknob the night before and shivered. “Have you told the captain? ”

  Douglas chuckled “No, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  He went over to the tray of food set a plate for her at the table. “I have some fruit and bread for you. I also brought some aloe for you to put on the abrasions. It should give him some relief.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  Douglas looked up from his arrangement of the food, with a worried expression. “So this bloke is taking you to America, eh? ” He jerked his head toward Sheridan, who was asleep but still shaking.

  Zoé’s looked at Sheridan with unconcealed contempt. “My papa died and my stepmother sold me to him.”

  “I am so sorry,” Douglas said.

  Zoé gave him a grateful smile. “Merci.”

  “Look, we have some slave women on board,” Douglas said. “They’re housed in the belly of the ship. Captain Delaflote does a lot of trafficking, but those poor dears belong to the men of this ship. The things those girls are forced to endure turns me stomach.”

  Zoé’s eyes widened. She was horrified. Those screams she’d heard in the middle of the night… they had been real.

  “I’m telling you this,” Douglas said, “because I want you to stay in this cabin. I’ll come and check on you and bring you food, but until he is up and about, you shouldn’t leave, Lass. Don’t even come looking for me. The latrine for this wing is right outside your door. Be careful using it. The door does not lock.”

  She remembered the evil in the men’s eyes as they watched her board the ship. She had no intention of wandering about on her own.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll do as you say.”

  “Good. I’ll be back this afternoon.” Wiping his hands on his apron, he headed for the door.

  “Merci, monsieur.”

  Douglas was grim. “Don’t thank me, yet, me
Lass.” He glanced back at Sheridan. “I have a feeling that he’s no different from the trolls on this ship. I have a daughter your age. I am disgusted by the things I’ve seen and I’ll do my best to help you.”

  “You’re very wise.”

  “And you are very special. No matter where he takes you or makes you do, try to hold on to that.”

  Zoé nodded, thanking him again. As soon as he left, she put the chair back in place. Then she went to the bread and broke off a piece. She hadn’t had dinner last night and was starving. Sheridan writhed in pain. She hoped his suffering was great. She would never forget that his games and cruelty led to her father’s discovery that she had betrayed herself. Her thoughts slowly drifted to La Roque. She looked up at the porthole window and saw the sky outside. What was La Roque doing? Anger and disappointment swelled inside her and she had to blink back sudden tears. She would cry no longer over him. He wasn’t worthy of her tears.

  EF La Roque came topside to feel the warm morning sun on his face. His thin white blouse flapped and rippled from the persistent wind. His coat was in his tiny cabin, tossed on the cot he’d slept on. As he walked up the deck, the same wind whipped his hair around his head and carried the strong salty smell of the sea to his nostrils. The ship rose and fell with the waves, making him struggle to keep balance as he observed the hustle of Ferdinand’s men.

  The Africans who manned the boat were an interesting lot. Their skin was as dark as coal and almost all of them wore long twisted unruly locks down their backs, as though they were in some fraternal club that required them.

  Walking over to the ship’s stern, La Roque spotted Ferdinand at the helm, looking north. Ferdinand wore only a pair of red tights with an orange tie around his waist. The same kind of orange bandana was tied around his head to keep his hair from his face. His skin glistened with beads of sweat that bubbled along his muscled chest and biceps.

  “ Bonne matin,” said La Roque.

  “Ye decided to join us, eh? ”

  La Roque frowned at the implied criticism. “Look ta de sun, it’s around nine,” continued the captain. La Roque glanced up at the sun. It was high in the sky,

  but he couldn’t believe he’d slept that long. He sensed Ferdinand’s glare. The man’s eyes were as dark as his skin, and his teeth as white as snow. When he spoke, the one gold tooth in his mouth sparkled as the sun caught it. “Dis for your Zoé, correct? ”

  La Roque nodded. “And to deliver some overdue justice to a friend of mine.” “Aye then, act like it’s of major importance. Because when ye find the Aventine, you will have to be at the ready. We have thirteen men on dis ship, including ye and your young companion dere.”

  He pointed at Jean-Claude, who was helping one of the ship’s hands hoist another sail so they could catch more wind and pick up speed.

  “Delaflote has more than twenty,” Ferdinand continued. “His ship is equipped with six-foot-long cannons that reach over 700 metres. D’ye understand? ”

  La Roque expressed no fear. “I know what we’re facing and I don’t care. My only mission is her. Saving her.”

  Ferdinand burst into hearty laughter. “I see you, so French, dressed in yer fancy clothes and think to meself, ‘Ah, yes, this one, he thinks the fight with Delaflote’s men will be according to the rules of gentlemen.’ I tell you now, if you think dis, then you’re wrong. I, meself, was once held captive on the Aventine. I will not say what I suffered. I will say that I wasn’t alone. Me youngest brother died on that voyage and his ghost sails at me side.”

  For a moment, Ferdinand fell silent. La Roque waited. He’d wondered at the captain’s readiness to go after Delaflote, a readiness that was unwavering and immediate even before they’d discussed money.

  “I remember it all as ’twere yesterday,” said Ferdinand. La Roque’s eyes followed the pirate’s stare into the vast dark waters. “Dat devil ship reached the shores of Jamaica first. Dey brought on others there, men like me, who had been dragooned, and divided us up for the voyage to America. Delaflote was lucky. His ship had already set sail by the time the slaves in Jamaica revolted and killed their captors. Many of the slaves took ships and sailed into the Atlantic, lost and desperate to find dere way home.”

  La Roque listened, silently, as Ferdinand told how he and his band of friends took their ship and headed with the winds. They arrived in France, where they found welcome. They soon adapted to the foreign land, learning its language and customs. He had seen Jacques Delaflote several times and wanted to exact his revenge, but the pirate was always surrounded by his henchmen and unreachable. Ferdinand said he bided his time and built his crew for this voyage and battle at sea. What he planned to do to Jacques Delaflote in avenging his brother would fall under a pirate’s code, he said. He’d just had no idea he would be doing it so soon.

  EF Zoé, now dressed, sat at the table composing a letter to Marianne. She didn’t know if she would be able to mail it, but she missed Marianne so desperately that writing helped her close the distance between them.

  “Zoé…” croaked Sheridan. Looking up, she saw that he was awake. She went to his bedside and touched his forehead. His fever had broken, but his linens and pillow were soaked.

  “How do you feel? ”

  “Thirsty.”

  Zoé poured him a tankard of water, and then helped him

  sit up to drink it. He coughed as the cool water went down his throat.

  “How long…? ” he moaned

  “It’s around noon, I think, so you’ve been out for some time.”

  “And you cared for me? ”

  She smiled grimly. “I had little choice. We are at sea. I couldn’t have you die on me.”

  She rose and went to the potion that Douglas had made. She felt Sheridan watching. When she brought him the drink, he looked at it suspiciously.

  “What is that? ”

  “Something that will have you on your feet soon.”

  He tried to reach for it, but then flinched in pain at the attempted movement. She sighed and went to his side. She hated nursing him. It made it appear as though she excused his abhorrent treatment of her.

  Sheridan lifted his head and drank the bitter thick liquid, then gagged at the taste. “Dear God, what is it? ”

  “A remedy that will cure you.” She forced the remainder of it to his lips and urged him to swallow. Once he’d finished, she looked down at him, she asked, “Now, are you hungry? ”

  “Yes.”

  She had saved him some bread and fruit. While getting it, she could feel his eyes on her. “Something wrong? ” she asked without turning around.

  “Huh?”

  “You keep staring at me. Is something wrong? ”

  “Why are you helping me? I thought you hated me.”

  “I’m not like you. I don’t hate anyone, not even someone as pathetic and sad as you.”

  He glared at her and lifted up on his elbows, grunting at the residual aches he felt. “That’s the second time you’ve called me pathetic. I won’t have it!”

  She turned to look at him with a mocking nod.

  His nostrils flared. “I think in time we will become quite close.”

  That made her laugh. “Your fever has broken, but you’re still hallucinating.”

  Some of the color drained from his face.

  She grew somber again. “Monsieur Sheridan, why did you take me? ”

  “Because you were for the taking.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘Why?’” he asked.

  “Do you like me? Do you want to know me? Or is it because you were jealous of Comte La Roque and saw that he had something you can’t have? ”

  Sheridan gritted his teeth. “I’m doing you a favor. No one would take you, and your stepmother and sister needed money.”

  “Please, don’t pretend that you care for my family. You did this for some sick kind of revenge. It was your twisted way of getting back at the man you wish you could be.”

  “You hol
d your tongue!”

  He got out of the bed grimacing from the pain, and straightened up. He walked toward her, still feeble, but driven by anger. He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her violently to him. She winced in pain at his grip. Sheridan looked down into the cleavage of her breasts, held by the corset.

  “Maybe I should start teaching you some manners, right now.”

  Zoé turned her head from him, repulsed by the dark circles under his eyes. He pushed her back from the table and she bumped into the chair behind her.

  “You aren’t well,” she said, looking behind her as she backed away.

  “I’m well enough!”

  Reaching the cabin wall, she felt trapped, and closed her eyes out of fear and disgust. She could fight; she could probably take him in his weak condition. Then what? Anger him more and have him tire of his game with her? Have him toss her to those animals for sport?

  Feeling him press up against her, she inhaled sharply and held her breath. She felt him run a hand along her hips and then shove a hand into her corset to claw at her breast. This was the second time since she’d met him that he’d taken liberties she wished he wouldn’t. Sickened, she realized it would not be the last. In this moment, she knew she’d rather die than let him have her. But he saw her defiance rising as she began to struggle against him.

  “Fight me if you want, and I’ll either have every man on this ship take a turn at you, or wait until we dock and have you hanged for your disobedience!”

  “I rather die by the hangman’s noose than give in to you!”

  “There are things worse than death, proud Zoé. Shall I acquaint you with them? ”

  She fought to hold back the tears, biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood. Refusing to beg or acknowledge his advances, she summoned memories of home: the walks in the garden with Marianne and Marguerite, the evenings singing for her father while he read his paper in the parlor and the nights spent sitting in her sister’s room, laughing and whispering about boys. It was just her body, and it didn’t belong to her anymore. He could never touch who she was.

  “Ah, see… it can be nice,” he said in response to her detached compliance. “Just being close to you makes me feel better. Let me show you.”