“These are soldiers from the garrison at Cap-Ha?tien,” he announced to the crew members. “Their commander—Captain Alessandro—” he said, lifting his eyebrows and grimacing hideously to emphasize the name, “says that they will assist us in launching the Artemis.” This announcement was greeted with faint cheers from some of the men, and looks of bewilderment from others.
“But how did Mr. Fraser—” began Royce, a rather slow-witted seaman, his heavy brows drawn together in a puzzled frown. Fergus allowed no time for questions, but plunged into the midst of the crew, putting an arm about Royce’s shoulders and dragging him toward the scaffolding, talking loudly to drown out any untoward remarks.
“Yes, is it not a most fortunate accident?” he said loudly. I could see that he was twisting Royce’s ear with his sound hand. “Most fortunate indeed! Captain Alessandro says that a habitant on his way from his plantation saw the ship aground, and reported it to the garrison. With so much help, we will have the Artemis aswim in no time at all.” He let go of Royce and clapped his hand sharply against his thigh.
“Come, come, let us set to work at once! Manzetti—up you go! MacLeod, MacGregor, seize your hammers! Maitland—” He spotted Maitland, standing on the sand gawking at Jamie. Fergus whirled and clapped the cabin boy on the back hard enough to make him stagger.
“Maitland, mon enfant! Give us a song to speed our efforts!” Looking rather dazed, Maitland began a tentative rendition of “The Nut-Brown Maid.” A few of the seamen began to climb back onto the scaffolding, glancing suspiciously over their shoulders.
“Sing!” Fergus bellowed, glaring up at them. Murphy, who appeared to be finding something extremely funny, mopped his sweating red face and obligingly joined in the song, his wheezing bass reinforcing Maitland’s pure tenor.
Fergus stalked up and down beside the hull, exhorting, directing, urging—and making such a spectacle of himself that few telltale glances went in Jamie’s direction. The uncertain tap of hammers started up again.
Meanwhile, Jamie was giving careful directions to his soldiers. I saw more than one Frenchman glance at the Artemis as he talked, with a look of dimly concealed greed that suggested that a selfless desire to help their fellow beings was perhaps not the motive uppermost in the soldiers’ minds, no matter what Fergus had announced.
Still, the soldiers went to work willingly enough, stripping off their leather jerkins and laying aside most of their arms. Three of the soldiers, I noticed, did not join the work party, but remained on guard, fully armed, eyes sharp on the sailors’ every move. Jamie alone remained aloof, watching everything.
“Should we come out?” Marsali murmured in my ear. “It seems safe, now.”
“No,” I said. My eyes were fixed on Jamie. He stood in the shade of a tall palmetto, at ease, but erect. Behind the unfamiliar beard, his expression was unreadable, but I caught the faint movement at his side, as the two stiff fingers flickered once against his thigh.
“No,” I said again. “It isn’t over yet.”
* * *
The work went on through the afternoon. The stack of wooden rollers mounted, cut ends scenting the air with the tang of fresh sap. Fergus’s voice was hoarse, and his shirt clung wetly to his lean torso. The horses, hobbled, wandered slowly under the edge of the forest, browsing. The sailors had given up singing now, and had settled to work, with no more than an occasional glance toward the palmetto where Captain Alessandro stood in the shade, arms folded.
The sentry near the trees paced slowly up and down, musket carried at the ready, a wistful eye on the cool green shadows. He passed close enough on one circuit for me to see the dark, greasy curls dangling down his neck, and the pockmarks on his plump cheeks. He creaked and jingled as he walked. The rowel was missing from one of his spurs. He looked hot, and fairly cross.
It was a long wait, and the inquisitiveness of the forest midges made it longer still. After what seemed forever, though, I saw Jamie give a nod to one of the guards, and come from the beach toward the trees. I signed to Marsali to wait, and ducking under branches, ignoring the thick brush, I dodged madly toward the place where he had disappeared.
I popped breathlessly out from behind a bush, just as he was doing up the laces of his flies. His head jerked up at the sound, his eyes widened, and he let out a yell that would have summoned Arabella the sheep back from the dead, let alone the waiting sentry.
I dodged back into hiding, as crashing boots and shouts of inquiry headed in our direction.
“C’est bien!” Jamie shouted. He sounded a trifle shaken. “Ce n’est qu’un serpent!”
The sentry spoke an odd dialect of French, but appeared to be asking rather nervously whether the serpent was dangerous.
“Non, c’est innocent,” Jamie answered. He waved at the sentry, whose inquiring head I could just see, peering reluctantly over the bush. The sentry, who seemed unenthusiastic about snakes, however innocent, disappeared promptly back to his duty.
Without hesitation, Jamie plunged into the bush.
“Claire!” He crushed me tight against his chest. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, hard.
“Damn you!” he said, in a piercing whisper. “I thought ye were dead for sure! How dare ye do something harebrained like jump off a ship in the middle of the night! Have ye no sense at all?”
“Let go!” I hissed. The shaking had made me bite my lip. “Let go, I say! What do you mean, how dare I do something harebrained? You idiot, what possessed you to follow me?”
His face was darkened by the sun; now a deep red began to darken it further, washing up from the edges of his new beard.
“What possessed me?” he repeated. “You’re my wife, for the Lord’s sake! Of course I would follow ye; why did ye not wait for me? Christ, if I had time, I’d—” The mention of time evidently reminded him that we hadn’t much, and with a noticeable effort, he choked back any further remarks, which was just as well, because I had a number of things to say in that vein myself. I swallowed them, with some difficulty.
“What in bloody hell are you doing here?” I asked instead.
The deep flush subsided slightly, succeeded by the merest hint of a smile amid the unfamiliar foliage.
“I’m the captain,” he said. “Did ye not notice?”
“Yes, I noticed! Captain Alessandro, my foot! What do you mean to do?”
Instead of answering, he gave me a final, gentle shake and divided a glare between me and Marsali, who had poked an inquiring head out.
“Stay here, the both of ye, and dinna stir a foot or I swear I’ll beat ye senseless.”
Without pausing for a response, he whirled and strode back through the trees, toward the beach.
Marsali and I exchanged stares, which were interrupted a second later, when Jamie, breathless, hurtled back into the small clearing. He grabbed me by both arms, and kissed me briefly but thoroughly.
“I forgot. I love you,” he said, giving me another shake for emphasis. “And I’m glad you’re no dead. Dinna do that again!” Letting go, he crashed back into the brush and disappeared.
I felt breathless, myself, and more than a little rattled, but undeniably happy.