Pirate Child

By Heide Katros

Annemarie Ratcliff's life changes abruptly when a drunken sailor spins a tale about serving under a female pirate by the name of Anne Bonny. An English colonel believes his story and soon gathers information that implicates Annemarie's father as an accomplice to help the Anne Bonny escape from prison. The colonel charges her father with treason and threatens to hang him unless Annemarie agrees to be his mistress. But Fate sets sea captain Trevor Mowbray on a collision course with Annemarie and her father when he sails into the port of Norfolk, Virginia. He risks his life to help Annemarie escape, but a tropical storm destroys his frigate with all aboard presumed dead. However, Annemarie appears in Charlestown two days later, playing the grieving widow and sets tongues wagging when she buys a frigate and sails it herself. But will her life ever be complete without Trevor?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heide Katros
• Release date: Aug 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501426612

Book preview

Prologue

New Providence, November 17, 1720

The rusty cell door clanged shut behind Anne Bonny with a finality that cut to her soul. This dank, dark little room that reeked of death and despair would be her home to the end. She bit back a sob. She was a prisoner, a felon, convicted of piracy, and only by the grace of her unborn child had she not been taken straight to the gallows and hanged.

Anne sank to her knees in the filthy matting of straw, oblivious to the stink of urine and mold, the scuttle of rats and vermin. She buried her face in her hands and allowed bitter, scalding tears to course down her cheeks.

God, what have I done? she whispered into the gloom.

For the past two years she had defied laws and society, laughed in the face of danger, and fought side by side with John Rackham. Her fists clenched, as she thought back to their capture. The cad had been drunk and the rest of his men had been in no better shape. Damn their souls. Had they kept their usual vigil, Governor Lawes’ men would have never overpowered them.

Remorse replaced anger, and she crawled on hands and knees into the farthest corner, wrapped her arms around her slender shoulders and curled into a small ball. She did not find solace. Instead, memories started to crowd in on her.

Dreamscape, her family’s lush plantation at the outskirts of Charlestown, was modest in comparison to other plantations, but it had been home. Her heart squeezed as she recalled the amenities she had taken for granted. Her life had seemed ordinary in contrast to the adventures of daring men—pirates—she’d read about. She hungered to experience some of those wild, exciting escapades.

Then one night, she packed up and stole away from the plantation. For the past two years she’d sailed across the Caribbean thumbing her nose at everything she had been taught to respect. What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock and start over again.

Alas, it would never be. As soon as her babe was born, she would hang. She touched her neck, as if the noose were already tightening around it. Oh, god, what would happen to her child, once she was gone? She had to give the child a chance at life, even though she had lost her own.

She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her blouse. She felt bone tired. It had been a long, arduous day, the midday sun brutal. Chained to the end of a long row of pirates, she’d been dragged amid jeers to the town’s center. There, she and the others languished in the heat without shade or water until they were called before the judge. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the pitiless stares from the tribunal that condemned her to death. To save their lives, she and Mary pled their bellies or neither would be breathing anymore this night.

Spurred on by the need to share her worry, she stumbled to the cell door and pressed her face against the rusty bars. Mary, can you hear me? Her voice, hardly more than a whisper, vibrated with fear.

Yes, me darlin’, I can hear you and it is good to hear a friendly voice amid this horrid darkness.

I’ve been thinking. What will happen to our babes once they are born?

A strident laugh wafted across the fetid air. I’m not sure about the bairns, but I know that as soon as they squall their first breath, it will be with certainty our last.

Anne bit her lip to keep her anguish at bay. I know that, Mary, but what will they do with our children?

Can’t let that bother you, sweeting. Most likely they won’t survive long and that’ll be good, because no one will want to raise the likes of our get. They’ll say they have tainted blood.

Another cackle followed the first derisive laugh. It echoed like a death knell in Anne’s ears. Her heart heavy, she crawled into the farthest corner of her dismal cell, closed her eyes and willed sleep to take over.

As days slipped into weeks, and weeks slipped into months they never got to see each other. Their only tenuous contact consisted of their nightly talks, when the guards were far away going about their own business. Neither ever voiced it aloud, but both hoped for a miracle.

One night Anne awoke to screams of agony. She raced to her cell door, her heart pounding in fear. Mary, Mary, what’s wrong?

First, there was no answer, only another anguished howl of pain, and then a reedy voice rasped, The babe is coming. Oh, god help me, there is so much blood.

Angst-ridden, Anne rattled the rusty cell door. Guards! Guards! Mary needs a doctor!

It seemed like hours before help arrived. Seething with anger, Anne watched as two burly guards and a man in a black frock coat, carrying a leather bag, hurried past. A doctor. A sliver of hope chased through her.

She strained to hear what went on down the long, dark corridor that reeked of urine and death. Sinking to her knees, she prayed that Mary would be spared more pain. In the midst of her prayer she stopped. What the hell was she doing? Mary would not live long once her child was born. With a hysterical giggle she abandoned her prayer and resumed her vigil by the cell door. Suddenly she realized that the screams had stopped.

Moments later, the two guards walked past her cell door, half dragging a blood-soaked, blanket-wrapped form between them. Anne’s eyes widened with shock. Mary? It was barely a whisper. She struggled to reach through the bars, wishing for one last contact with her dearest friend. But the guards passed by without paying her any heed. Tears streaming down her face, she screamed her friend’s name, and it echoed off the dank walls like an eerie farewell.

CHAPTER ONE

Norfolk, Virginia, October 1738

We need to go, daughter. It’s a blustery day and your mother would not want you to catch your death of cold.

Annemarie nodded numbly and allowed her father to lead her away from the gaping grave. She pulled her shawl tighter around her slender shoulder, eager to be away from the curious eyes of the assembled mourners. Tears clouded her vision and the ache in her heart made breathing difficult.

Dr. Radcliff, may I beg a moment of your time, sir? A villager, holding his hat in both hands, shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, worry etched on his work-worn face.

Michael Radcliff didn’t hesitate. The welfare of his patients always came before his own. He gently patted Annemarie’s arm. You walk on ahead, child. This shouldn’t take long.

Father and daughter exchanged looks of understanding before he turned back to the man and she hurried along the moss covered path of the cemetery. She wanted to be home, needed to vent her grief in private. It had been a grueling day. She had not been prepared for the wrenching pain that shot through her, when her mother’s casket was lowered into the ground.  Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

She would have bumped into him, if he hadn’t grasped her elbow. Raising tear-filled eyes, she looked straight into a pair of unusual pewter ones. Those eyes seemed almost opaque and sent a frisson of unease skittering along her spine. Only then did she notice that he wore the uniform of his Majesty King George II.

The soldier cut her a formal bow. Miss Radcliff, may I tender my sincere condolences over the loss of your beloved mother? I know how painful this must be for you. He reached for her hand, but Annemarie snatched it out of his grasp.

I don’t think we have been properly introduced, sir. It was a lame excuse, she knew, but he threatened something deep inside her and she wanted nothing more than to be on her way.

The soldier flushed a deep, unbecoming red. No, my dear Miss Radcliff, you are quite right. We have not been properly introduced. And since there is no one to do the honors, may I present myself? Colonel Robert Dinwidde, at your service, Miss Radcliff.

He offered her a hangdog smile. My dearest lady, I merely want to express my condolences over the loss of your dear departed mother.

Sir, I thank you kindly for your words of condolence. Please understand my need for privacy. She inclined her head. I bid you good day. Without giving him a chance to say anything more, she picked up her skirts and hurried after her father, who had wandered ahead deep in conversation with the man who’d stopped him.

She didn’t break stride until she came to the street corner that led to the livery stables. Something compelled her to look over her shoulder. Her gaze clashed with Colonel Dinwidde’s, who still stood where she had left him, an unreadable expression on his face.

As she caught up to her father, he turned, his expression puzzled. You didn’t have to hurry on my account, daughter. I thought I would give you two young people a few moments alone. It was quite proper in full view of everyone.

Annemarie blew a wayward strand of hair from her forehead and fixed her father with a questioning look of her own. Is there a particular reason why you might be trying to fob me off on that pompous rooster? He struts like barnyard fowl and acts as if I should be grateful that he even considers to be seen in my company. And spare me from calling the man young. He has to be well into his thirties.

Exhaling on a long-suffering sigh, her father agreed. You might have a point about his age, and I am not trying to fob you off. What possible objections can you have to the man’s overtures at friendship?

Is that what you call it? Overtures to friendship? Well, Papa, I’ll have you know that by pretending grief over the loss of my mother, he ogled my cleavage.

Grasping her hand, he glanced over his shoulder, to make sure no one was within range. Child, by all that is holy you must be careful what you say and how loudly. I don’t even want to think about what would happen, if someone who meant us ill overheard us. I am sure Colonel Dinwidde is an honorable man. You could do worse in a husband.

Taking her father’s caution to heart, she hissed, Husband? God help me, I’d rather become an old maid than have him eyeing me like a tasty morsel every day for the rest of my life.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head in vexation. Oh, dear, your mother allowed you far too much freedom. God rest her soul. I begged her to raise you according to convention, but unfortunately she had other ideas.

They’d arrived at the livery stables, where a handsome black carriage and a pair of matched geldings were waiting for them. As her father helped her into the carriage, he gently squeezed her hand. We will speak more on it, once we get home.

Annemarie merely nodded. She settled against the velvet squabs as he closed the door and released a sigh. Moments later she felt the slight dip of the carriage as he sat down on the driver’s seat, and they were on their way.

Sans Souci plantation was only a couple of miles out of town. Annemarie loved the wide open space and the solitude. She took an active interest in the tobacco her father grew there in order to supplement his meager income as the town’s sole physician.

As soon as the carriage drove into the barn adjacent to the house, Annemarie opened the door and jumped unassisted to the ground.

Her father shook his head. Ah, and there is another habit you will have to relinquish, if you ever intend to find a suitable husband. Stop acting like a hoyden, child.

Annemarie whirled around and stomped her foot. The mutinous glitter in her eyes left no doubts to her inner turmoil. What is all that talk about finding a husband of a sudden? I have no intention of becoming little more than an indentured slave to some overbearing man. I want more from life. I expect to be treated in the manner you treated mama. You respected her opinion. I want nothing less.

To hide the sudden tears that threatened to well over, she turned away and headed for the house, stripping her gloves off in quick jerky movements as she went.

They’d entered his study before they spoke again. In an attempt to smooth her ruffled feathers, he poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to her, indulging her in the same way as he had accused her mother of doing.

Here, this will warm your insides. He took a swallow and briefly closed his eyes. I know you loved your mother deeply. You and she were so close. It will take time to come to grips with your loss – I loved her, too, and will miss her sorely.

His eyes misted over as he flipped his coat tails and settled in the nearest wing chair. Gesturing with the glass in his hand, his breath hitched as he exhaled. We both knew that this day would come sooner rather than later. I am deeply sorry that I could do nothing more for her.

Annemarie took a gulp of her brandy and hurried over to her father’s chair to perch on the armrest. Kissing his brow, she whispered, I know how much you loved her, and she loved you back without reservation. You did everything you could, but no one can hold consumption at bay forever.

He leaned his head back and expelled a troubled sigh. I was afraid the laudanum would not keep her free of pain much longer. The dosages got larger and larger, but I could not bear to see her suffer, so I allowed her as much as she desired. Some may fault me for it, but it was a last kindness, since there was no chance of recovery. He pinched the bridge of his nose with well-manicured, long fingers and fell silent.

There was a long pause, when both were lost in thought. Finally, he said, I’m sorry if I offend you. But you see, I consider it my duty to see you are taken care of, married to a man who cares for you and gives you a passel of children. He smiled, when he saw the alarm heighten the color in her lovely face.

Annemarie jumped to her feet. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I learned to fend for myself. Thanks to you and mother I can read and cipher. I can wield a rapier as well as a man and I can outride most of them.

Her father gulped the rest of his brandy and shook his head again. Unfortunately, what you say is all too true. He chuckled to take the sting out of his next words. You will scare your suitors away, if they discover that you are so independent.

In that case, good riddance, Papa. I want a man who will accept me for myself. A man, who allows me to stand on my own two feet, but will lend me his support, should I need it.

He cast her a wry smile and rubbed a tired hand across his jaw. Oh, what have we done? I knew some of your mother’s wild streak would rub off on you. She was a rebel, and you are so much like her.

Annemarie pounced on his remark like a cat on a mouse. You have never said much of how you and mother met or how you came to settle in Norfolk. Resting her head upon his, she cajoled, Please tell me a little about mother’s past. We never spoke much of it as long as she was ill, and before that I never asked, because I thought I had all the time in the world.

A smile stole across his face as he allowed memories to crowd in. Your mother and I came to Norfolk, because we heard that it was one of the fastest growing colonies. It appealed to me to grow tobacco and live near a port. We felt we had the best of both worlds. I love the feel of the earth between my fingers. Your mother loved the sea. I am sure I told you more than once that she grew up near the city of Charlestown.

Annemarie had retreated to a chair and raptly listened to his discourse. Do we have any relatives in Charlestown, father?

He shrugged. I really don’t know, child.

But didn’t you tell me once that you met in New Providence? Just where is that?

I think I’ll need another brandy. Not all memories are pleasant, but you deserve to know.

He poured a generous amount into his glass before he ambled back from the sideboard and took his seat again. "To answer your question, New Providence is located in the Caribbean Sea. Your mother and I met during the height of the pirate reign in that region. Men like Blackbeard and Calico Jack roamed the seas and no one was safe.

I sailed aboard an English frigate loaded with goods for the colonies, when we were boarded by James Mason’s band. They only allowed me to live, because I was a doctor and they happened to be in need of one. In exchange they freed me in New Providence, left me to fend for myself.

Annemarie’s eyes widened with alarm. So what was mother doing in a place fraught with pirates? Didn’t you tell me that she was well-born and that her father owned a plantation?

He took a hefty gulp of brandy and refused to meet her gaze. Let me tell the story as it unfolded. You see, once the pirates stranded me on that godforsaken island, my freedom didn’t come without a price. While I was looking for a ship to take me out of there, I took ill. I was more dead than alive, when your mother found me. She tended to me and saved my life.

Annemarie tilted her head as she mulled his explanation over. Was it then that you started to court her?

He fidgeted, uncomfortable with her question. No, it was almost two years later before I saw your mother again. I had never forgotten her or her kindness. She was a beautiful, spirited little thing, who had captured my heart right from the beginning. I just didn’t know it. He grinned, clearly abashed. When I found her again, she’d fallen on hard times. I only intended to pay her back for her kindness. But fate has a hand in everything. I guess it was then that I realized that I loved her, and you are the living proof of that.

He rose abruptly and set his empty glass on the sideboard. Enough chitchat. I have work to do. Will you please ask Mistress Goodingham to prepare supper early tonight? I find I have worked up an appetite after all.

Annemarie rose, disappointed that he was not in the mood to talk more. However, she had high hopes that he would tell her more as time and grief passed. She regretted that she had never asked her mother about the past.

Mistress Goodingham eyed Annemarie with sympathy, when the girl relayed her father’s wishes. Reaching for a pot, she sighed, It’s been a long day, Missy. But it’s been a day long coming. A shame your mother was such a recluse, not having any female friends to ease her last days, but she did have your papa and he was so devoted to her.

The housekeeper’s comment shocked Annemarie. Now that she thought about it, she saw how true that was. They rarely had visitors at Sans Souci. Mama and she had been the best of friends and never lacked for companionship.

Tears stole into her eyes. She never realized what a magical time they’d had together. Far from town and prying eyes, they had cavorted like two nymphs. Mother had taught her how to swim, naked no less. She smiled at the thought. And they had fenced with rapiers and played at being pirates.

Annemarie stepped up to the kitchen window and gazed toward the gazebo at the far end of the plantation. The gazebo had been their private playground and they had dubbed it Dreamscape. But once mother had fallen ill, the games had stopped and she had only gone back on rare occasions. Some day soon she would visit again and reminisce. Her heart ached, knowing it could never be the same.

CHAPTER TWO

The frigate Enchantress sailed into Norfolk harbor on a fine autumn morning. Her captain, Trevor Mowbray, stood at the helm feet braced apart, keen eyes focused ahead. A satisfied smile played about his generous mouth as he maneuvered the ship expertly into her berth. His deep voice cut through the still morning air as he gave orders to drop anchor. Locking the helm into position, he assured himself that she was properly secured to the quay and set his men to get her unloaded without delay.

His bo’sun, James Willoughby joined him as he left the bridge. Captain, I think we should send a man aloft to check the clew on the right corner of the main sail, sir. I’ve noticed just as we entered the harbor that it seems to be hanging loose.

Trevor shielded his eyes against the morning sun and slowly scanned the sail in question. Aye, Mr. Willoughby, I think you are right. I’ll go and inspect it right away.

I can send one of the men up to check on it for you, captain.

No, Mr. Willoughby, it’s quite all right. The men have their duties to see to. I don’t often have the opportunity to climb up into the rigging. Just see to it that the Enchantress is unloaded.

Trevor chucked his soft-soled boots and clambered up the ratlines with reckless abandon. A grin of pure pleasure tugged at his mouth, once he reached the stun-sail boom. The height was dizzying, but he reveled in the danger. He breathed deeply of the clean sea air. Then with the ease of an accomplished acrobat, he scampered across the narrow cross mast and checked the clew. It would have to be replaced before they left port.

He was about to whistle to his bo’sun to join him in the rigging, when a lithe figure hurrying across the town square caught his eye. For several long moments he watched with rapt attention. Even from his perch so far above he could tell that the female was young and extremely nimble. A frisson of pure lust shot through him as he considered making her acquaintance.

He chuckled and shook his head. What was he thinking? If he needed female companionship, he would certainly not look for it in a prim colonial miss, and by the look of her dress she was just that. He took his pleasure with the tavern wenches, paid them, and moved on with his life. After all, the sea was his mistress and the Enchantress owned him heart and soul.

Trevor had come to the colonies to make his fortune. As the third son of the Earl of Mowbray, he didn’t have a chance of inheriting even a clod of dirt, much less the title. He did not begrudge his oldest brother Thomas the honor.

He slid down the ratlines to the next tier of booms. The moment his feet hit the deck his bo’sun joined him to give him a report on the progress of the unloading.

The men want to know if they can expect shore leave tonight, captain.

’Tis all right by me. Let them draw straws who will take first watch, but the second watch had better not be too drunk to take its turn.

Aye, aye, captain. The bo’sun saluted and hurried toward the line of sweating men to tell them the good news.

Trevor took his time stepping into his boots. With studied nonchalance he leaned against the railing to scan the crowd below. He hoped to catch another glimpse of the lovely young woman he had sighted from above.

Chiding himself for wasting his time on such an idle pursuit, he was about to turn back to the activity on deck, when he spied the object of his curiosity picking her way along the harbor-side shops and taverns. What was a fine born lady doing in this part of town?—Bloody hell, where did he get the idea she was a lady?—He rubbed a hand thoughtfully across his stubbled chin. Maybe that was all the more reason to make her acquaintance. Besides, from up close she might not be half as comely as from up here.

He grinned, when he watched her slip into the chandler’s shop. Judging by what he had learned from two sisters, she would probably spend considerable time there. Trevor swung into action. Tying his loose sleeved shirt at the throat, he grabbed the woolen coat he’d discarded earlier near the wheel and started down the gangplank, working the buttons as he walked.

Mr. Willoughby, please continue with unloading the Enchantress, while I take a quick trip to the chandler across the street? I am in sore need of a lantern bracket for my quarters and I’ll check on that clew, he called over his shoulder, already halfway down the gangplank.

Trevor’s eyes never left the entrance to the chandler’s shop lest the intriguing chit left without his knowing. He ducked into the shadowy, low-ceilinged shop in time to hear her protest, But Papa, Mistress Goodingham is going to be along shortly. I thought I could meet you here rather than stand in the butcher’s shop and wait for her order to be weighed and wrapped. 

Trevor busied himself with a display of candles that held absolutely no interest for him, but since it was conveniently located near the counter, it gave him an unimpeded view of the lady in question.

She was every bit as lovely as he’d imagined, and she moved with an inherent grace. Even the drab dress she wore didn’t diminish her charm in the least. Dark lustrous curls framed her face in a riot of wild ringlets that were caught in a loose knot at the nape of her slender neck. For a millisecond he pictured himself running his fingers through the luxuriant mass. Totally intrigued, Trevor felt no compunction about listening to their conversation.

Daughter, it is unseemly for a lady to be walking without escort and a ship just having pulled up to the docks less than an hour ago.

Trevor grimaced at the obvious censure, even though he knew such remarks were directed more at his crew than himself. And then she laughed. It was merry, without care, and had a sensuous undertone. His heart constricted at the sound. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the lady had her poor father wrapped around her little finger. Holding back an amused grin, he spied a bin filled with brass brackets and selected one he thought he could use.

Ambling over to the counter where father and daughter stood shoulder to shoulder, he heard the chandler say, Dr. Radcliff, my boy can deliver your purchases, no need to burden yourself with them.

That is very kind of you, Master Riggins. I do have a couple of stops to make before I head back to Sans Souci. Mistress Little asked me to come and take a look at her youngest. She thinks the child has come down with the ague.

He swung abruptly around and promptly collided with a hard body. Embarrassed, he patted the rough sleeve of the man’s coat. I am sorry, my good man, I didn’t realize that there were other patrons in the store. I guess I am a bit distracted to say the least.

Trevor inclined his head and smiled. Don’t fret, Dr. Radcliff, a man of your standing would have a lot on his mind.

Michael’s head snapped up in surprise. You know my name, sir?

Trevor chuckled and cut him a casual bow. Trevor Mowray at your service, sir, and I confess that I overheard Mr. Riggins mention it.

Before he could say anything further, Mr. Riggins stepped out from behind his counter. Beaming, he stretched his hand out in welcome. Oh, Captain Mowbray, you must have just made port. How long will you be in town?

Trevor grasped the man’s hand warmly, but his gaze was not fully fixed on the chandler. With a sidelong glance he continued to assess the lady to his right, though he didn’t miss a beat with his reply. I doubt it’ll be more than a couple of days. I already have a load waiting to take back down the coast. Tobacco is in high demand, though other goods are always welcome, too.

Mr. Riggins’ face broke into a wider smile. It just occurred to me that maybe you could do business together. The heavy whiskers of his handlebar mustache split to reveal a pleased grin. I can vouch for both of you.

Michael shook his head, regret mirrored in his eyes. I do indeed grow tobacco, captain, but alas I have already harvested the crop and sold it.

Trevor inclined his head in acknowledgment. That’s quite all right, sir, I have my steady sources. As I said, I already have a load procured for the trip south.

Annemarie pretended boredom, but she avidly watched from beneath lowered lashes. Her heart did a