Busbee, Shirlee Page 5

  The Captain, who didn't understand the queer whim that had possessed him, had carelessly dumped her on the deck of his ship and promptly forgot her. Nicole spent several weeks living in unspeakable misery and fear in the cramped hold of the ship before he noticed her again. In the meantime she slaved such long hard hours that at night she tumbled into her hammock, slung between the decks along with the other crew members', almost completely exhausted. Every filthy job came her way, from the emptying of the slop jars in the officers' quarters to the hard sweaty work of scraping the hull of the ship. Being the lowliest member of the crew, as well as the youngest and newest, she was at the beck and call of every member of the ship, and it seemed to her in those first frightening weeks that she spent more time running errands between decks than anything else. Astonishingly she managed to endure it all. The thought of having escaped from the Markhams lifted her flagging spirits and the cool, clean salt-sweet breezes that blew over the ocean soothed her inner qualms about the rash step she had taken. And there were other compensations too, for she loved being ordered into the riggings, and like an agile monkey, she would swiftly clamber up into the sails, unafraid of the danger and nearly intoxicated by the dizzying height. And there was the power of the sea to drug one, the many moods, from placid gentleness to the exhilaration of the thunder and crash of a storm. And excitement-oh, yes, excitement . . .

  Never, she thought dreamily, would she ever forget her first sea battle . . . That day when a Spanish merchantman had been sighted and La Belle Garce had swooped down on its prey like a hawk. When the first warning shots were fired, she had felt a quiver of youthful terror, but then the blood of other sea fighters flowed in her veins and eagerly, her topaz-brown eyes sparkling with adventure, she joined the fray, willing and almost impatient to do her share. When the Captain had noticed her slight figure dashing about the smoke-filled decks, he had harshly ordered her to one of the cabins and out of danger. Fiercely she had demanded that she be returned to the deck, but he would not allow it.

  Moved perhaps by the obvious youth of the boy, Saber then designated Nicole as his personal servant. There were sneers and sly remarks about Captain Saber's "pretty boy," but Nicole, too aware of the danger, for once wisely held her tongue and pretended not to hear... or understand their meaning.

  Once she became the Captain's servant, much of the danger of discovery was alleviated for he, with the same amount of indifferent concern he would bestow upon a forward puppy, had ordered her to sleep in a corner of his cabin. And so indignantly she had strung her hammock in the corner farthest away from the now-not-so-worshipped Captain Saber and with little enthusiasm saw to the task of keeping his cabin, as well as his gear, in excellent condition.

  Her disappointment in her new status was obvious, and the darkling looks she cast his way, as she busied herself doing his commands, seemed to afford him a certain amount of wicked amusement. And often he chided his erstwhile cabin boy for lack of gratitude: "You know, young Nick, I could name a half dozen boys below decks at this very moment who would be delighted to be in your shoes—and do a better job to boot!"

  Nicole's unruly tongue moved her to speak unwisely, as well as disrespectfully, and she received a sharp box on the ears that left her head ringing for an hour. But the Captain's point was well taken and she resigned herself to the monotonous task of caring for his personal effects. Muttering under her breath that she would have been better off as a parlormaid, Nicole gritted her teeth and set to work. But relief from this trying set of affairs was in sight, although, again, it wasn't precisely what she would have wished for. When he discovered by accident that his ungrateful cabin boy could also read and write, a circumstance that made him take a more appraising look at the boy, he promptly put him to use in compiling legible lists of the plunder they captured. Eventually the disgruntled Nicole found herself not only his personal servant but his secretary as well.

  In her calmer moments she realized that had she been left with the rough crew of La Belle Garce, it was doubtful her sex would have remained a secret for long, certainly not for five years! But as the Captain's property and secretary she was removed from close association with the men. As for the Captain, himself, as long as she obeyed promptly, he never wasted a second glance on her. But she sometimes wondered if he suspected her secret, and turning over on her side she faced her companion and asked abruptly, "Allen, do you think Captain Saber knows that I'm a girl?"

  "God in heaven, I should hope not! Your life wouldn't be worth last year's scuttlebutt, if he did," Allen answered with unnecessary promptness.

  Looking at his dark, open face, the brown, curly hair moving slightly in the soft breeze, Nicole questioned again his reasons for joining Captain Saber's crew.

  Allen Ballard was an enigma to Nicole. He had joined La Belle Garce after deserting the British Navy less than a year ago, and she often puzzled over his reasons for doing so. She knew little about him, but from the neatness of his clothes and his beautiful manners, it was obvious he came from a much better background than the majority of the crew. His air of assurance as well as his manners and dress, indicated that he must have been an officer, so it wasn't surprising that Saber had chosen him as second-in-command for this last journey. Nicole had been drawn to Allen instantly. He reminded her of Giles, with his quiet, thoughtful manner, and one of those odd shipboard bonds had sprung up between them.

  Because they spent most of their free time in port together, it hadn't taken Allen very long to discover that Nicole was not the slender boy she appeared.

  It had been on an occasion much like today, when he had stumbled across her lying naked on the warm sands of a secluded little cove. At first he couldn't believe his eyes. Nicole had instantly pleaded with him not to betray her. He hadn't liked it, and liked it even less when she confessed, reluctantly, the whole story. Vainly he had argued with her to let him arrange for her return to England, to the bosom of her family, and stonily Nicole had stared back at him. She resisted every plea he put forth, but she had noticed it was queer that he never put forth the one argument against which she had no defense —that the Captain would have to be told! She had often wondered why but chose not to dwell on it.

  Sometimes, though, she suspected Allen was more than he appeared. He was inordinately interested in all that went on in the Captain's quarters, especially his official papers and lists of ships and cargoes taken. Nicole had thought Allen was merely unduly involved in the profit that would be made until recently when she had caught him searching through Saber's private papers. She had read murder in his eyes in that instant before he recognized her, and then an odd expression had flitted across his face—Regret? Embarrassment? Resignation?

  It was an awkward confrontation and Allen had quickly bound her to secrecy by the simple promise that if she did not betray him, he would continue to hold his tongue about her!

  Surprisingly it had brought them closer together, for Nicole had come a long way from the almost worshipful manner in which she had first viewed Captain Saber. But she didn't want to think about anything today. She wanted to enjoy these moments of freedom and impatiently she wriggled under the scratchy feel of her rough cotton shirt.

  Normally Nicole would have shed her clothes the moment she reached the beach. But Allen was rather peculiar about things like that, so she was wearing an abbreviated version of her usual clothes, the shirt tied under her high bosom and the cotton pants cut off near the tops of her slender thighs. She had another pair of long black pants to wear back to the ship, for no one seeing the delicately curved long legs would have any doubt about her sex.

  Rising gracefully to her feet, she regarded the prone Allen. He was wearing much the same costume, except his strong muscled back was bare to the heat of the sun and there was a long seaman's knife strapped about his hard waist. No shirt for Allen, she thought resentfully. Then her mood shifted quickly, as always, and she asked, "Shall we dive from the rock?"

  Though Allen liked it, this particular cove w
as not really one of Nicole's favorites for it possessed a brooding air that made her uneasy. Perhaps it was because of the black volcanic rock that rose so steeply on either side, reaching out like sinister arms, and because the lagoon was deeper than most, the water was a dark, rather menacing blue instead of the clear azure of the coves Nicole preferred. But it did possess a high outcropping of rock at the end of one of the arms that made an excellent point from which to dive into the cool blue depths.

  His blue eyes lazy, Allen murmured sleepily, "You go ahead, Nick. I'll be there eventually."

  And so Nicole slowly climbed the rocks alone. Reaching the top, for a long minute she stared out at the open sea, then down into the crystal blueness of the lagoon. Here the waters were almost fifty feet deep, and the fact that there were no hidden rocks made it ideal for diving. She glanced over her shoulder, and seeing that Allen was at last beginning to climb to the top, she gave him a cheerful wave and then, a graceful figure of hair flamed by the sun and long golden legs, she dived into the water. Down she plunged and then her legs moving in a scissorlike fashion, she propelled herself to the surface. The water was a silken delight after the warmth of the sun, and for several minutes she swam in lazy circles, waiting for Allen to appear at the top of the rock.

  She had no feeling of impending danger, just sheer enjoyment at the caress of the satin seawater. Allen appeared, and floating on her back, she kicked a high spume of water in his direction, laughing. "Join me—it's like heaven."

  Allen, some fifteen to twenty feet above her, grinned down at her, appreciating the enticing picture she made. Then he stiffened and in a voice harsh with urgency and fear he shouted, "Nick! Below you!"

  Instantly stopping her antics, she let her feet sink down and stared into the water. And there it was, circling, not fifteen feet below her—the long deadly shape that every seaman dreads—shark!

  A chill slithered down her spine and terror made her clumsy as she began with awkward strokes to swim the one hundred yards that separated her from safety. The beach was her only hope, for the steep sides of the lagoon offered no chance of escape from the water. Fervently she sent up a little prayer that the shark was only curious, and as her first spurt of terror abated she swam with her usual strong and swift motions. But the shark was more than just curious. There was something so frightening and threatening in the creature's increasingly narrow circles that Nicole sensed it was only a matter of minutes before the monster struck at her long, flashing legs.

  As if undecided, the shark glided to a position some yards in front of her, effectively, whether by accident or design, cutting off her retreat to the beach. Nicole stopped her race for safety, treading water and swallowing a lump of fear as she watched the shark swim back and forth some twelve feet in front of her.

  She cast an uncertain glance back at Allen. He still stood on the rocky outcropping, his own face as white as hers, his eyes intent on the sleek, menacing creature now swimming not ten feet in front of her.

  His voice encouraging, Allen shouted, "Keep swimming, Nick. For God's sake don't start to panic and flounder around—that will only disturb it. Keep swimming!"

  Swallowing a mouthful of pure fear and grimly telling herself that her life was not going to end in a shark's belly, she followed Allen's advice. But she saw that the shark was once again directly under her, and she watched with glazed eyes as it drifted slowly upward toward her defenseless body, the jaws opening, the rows of teeth like gleaming saw blades. She knew she was indeed going to die—now!

  Dimly she heard the splash of Allen's body as he entered the water, the noise and vibration abruptly startling the shark, for it stopped its deadly attack and darted away as if frightened. Seeing Allen's head breaking the surface of the water, she cried, "What the devil are you doing? Now we're both in danger."

  "I suppose," he yelled grimly, "I was just to stand there and watch you be torn apart. Shut up, Nick, and start swimming."

  The shark, never having gone very far, returned, this time nearer to Allen. He kept a wary eye on the beast before him and firmly gripped the handle of the razor-sharp seaman's blade. "Get going, Nick, goddamnit!" he shouted over his shoulder.

  "But you!" she argued, knowing he was right, but unable to leave him.

  "And what the devil can you do! If you would kindly get the hell out of here, I could do the same! Now is not the time for you to get heroic!"

  She stifled a hysterical giggle and wondered what he would call his actions. Then with a speed that was prompted as much from the fear that any second she would feel those saw-toothed jaws tearing into her body, as the knowledge that Allen would not attempt the shore until she was safe, she hurtled to the beach. Splashing into ankle-deep water, she turned, thankful to see that Allen was still alive and not more than fifty yards from the shore. But from the slow, steady strokes he was taking and from the way he stared into the ocean depths, she knew the shark still followed him. Desperately her eyes scanned the small deserted beach, searching frantically for something, anything that could be used to help Allen, but nothing met her eyes.

  Gingerly, Allen kept swimming, his eyes never leaving for more than a second the gray streamlined shape that followed so silently and unnervingly on his heels. It was not a huge shark, barely ten feet in length, but even a shark half that size was a deadly enemy to a man in the sea. The knife held tightly in his hand gave him some comfort, as did the nearing shoreline, but Allen was familiar with sharks and this one's actions did not deceive him.

  It was, just now, swimming parallel to him, not five feet to his left, and once or twice it had suddenly changed directions, swimming directly under his body, the dorsal fin a scant few inches from his powerful kicking legs.

  They were closer to the beach now, and Nicole could see for herself the long destructive shape that seemed to be growing more and more daring in its approach to Allen's brown muscled body. Oh, God, she thought with anguish, save him! He saved me—don't let him die! Please! She took a step forward, intent upon flinging herself into the water, but knowing Allen's bravery could very well be for nothing if she did, she stood frozen, her body chilled to the bone as she saw the shark swim once more under Allen. Then turning in one sinuous motion, the creature began the same deadly rush that only moments before had menaced her.

  Allen sensed the shark's imminent attack, and the razor-honed blade he clenched in his hand seemed a flimsy protection against the saw-sharp teeth and sandpaper-rough hide of his adversary. But he knew a man could win against such a monster, for he had seen it done once, and with a prayer he hoped he could duplicate that feat.

  In a tremendous surge that brought the head and shoulders from the water, the shark came at Allen with a speed that took his breath away, but he held onto his courage as he faced that deadly charge and the distance between them became a matter of inches. Then only a heartbeat away from the ravaging jaws, Allen jerked to one side, the knife held in both hands, the blade aimed toward the tail, and drove it deeply into the underbelly, the force of the shark's momentum causing the blade to gut the beast from gill to tail. Barely risking a glance, Allen saw the shark, mortally wounded, guts and blood spilling from the opened cavity, crazily swimming toward the open sea. Then swimming with an unbearable urgency he reached the shore and stumbled into Nicole's welcoming arms.

  They held each other for a long moment, both shaken to the very deepest recesses of their beings.

  "Oh, my God, Allen! I was so frightened!" Nicole muttered, her face still pale.

  His breath coming in deep, agonizing gulps, Allen grinned. "I, too, was just a little uneasy!"

  Nicole giggled then, a giggle verging on the hysterical, and a moment later they were both laughing on the sand, glad just to be alive. But Nicole was first to recover and soberly she said, "I owe you my life, Allen. How can I ever repay you?"

  For a second the blue eyes roved over her face and the slender body, the alluring curves obvious in the wet clothes, but he merely smiled and said, "Nonsense, young N
ick! But I don't think we'll go swimming in this place anymore, I wouldn't want to go through that again!"

  With a shudder Nicole glanced out at the still waters of the lagoon. "No! Certainly not!"

  Not wishing her to dwell on how close to death they had come, he affectionately ruffled the sea-wet head. "Come now! Forget it and just remember next time don't swim out so far."

  Giving a subdued smile, she nodded in quick agreement. "The shallows it is for me, for a long time."

  They dressed quickly without further conversation, but Nicole knew that she was forever in Allen's debt and that she owed him her very life. It had been an inordinately brave thing that he had done and she would never forget it. Never!

  CHAPTER 5

  La Belle Garce was almost deserted when they boarded her some time later. Now Nicole's hair was combed back tightly in a queue that stretched her features, hardening them and hiding the feminine softness. She wore the cheap cotton loose-fitting pants and shirt, and did indeed look to be a tall, slender youth of fifteen.

  There were a few men dicing near the foredeck, and with ease she recognized Jake's sandy head amongst them. She glanced at him, wondering anew at all the questions he asked. And as if feeling her gaze, he looked up, his ever-present plug of tobacco bulging in one cheek. He was not a prepossessing person and Nicole decided that he deliberately cultivated that unremarkable appearance. No one would remember him five minutes after meeting him. But Jake asked a lot of questions, Nicole thought, as she nodded at him and quickly walked to the Captain's quarters. Jake was new this trip, and she couldn't quite shake the conviction that Jake, like Allen, had something to hide. But then she shrugged her uncertain thoughts away and entered Captain Saber's quarters.

  "Oh, hello, Mr. Higgins," she said cheerfully, seeing the first mate bent over a map on one of the room's long tables.