Changing Tides Page 3

  “You should have let him whip me,” Elijah told him softly, his head resting tiredly against the post.

  “Fifty times?” Brett said, sounding incredulous. “He would have killed you, Elijah.”

  “Why not just let him go?” Devon asked. “You are the master.”

  “I can’t,” Brett said with a pained grimace. “My uncle would never let this stand. If Elijah was not punished in some way, my uncle would kill him when he hears what happened. This way, he will be furious with me for being too lenient, but he will let it be.” Brett patted the slave’s back gently. “Courage, my friend. I will come to see you in a few hours. Come, sir, let us go back inside.”

  “That is the real reason why you don’t leave, isn’t it?” Devon asked as they made their way back to the house. “The slaves.”

  Brett smiled dismally. “During the course of the last year, I rediscovered my love for this land and its people, yes. I’m the one thing standing between them and both Thompson and my uncle. If I left… I believe many of them would die. And I can’t let that happen.”

  They sat back at the table, but their need for food was gone. Devon suddenly found himself wishing he could stay, wishing he could somehow help Brett, make things better for him. He had no doubt Rupert Campbell was going to be furious when he realized he’d had an uninvited guest and that his nephew had been challenging his foreman every step of the way.

  WHEN IN the middle of the night there was a knock on his door, Devon had yet to go to sleep. He jumped out of the chair in a flash and opened the door. Brett appeared at the entrance to the room, two black men, both armed to the teeth, accompanying him.

  “Brett, what’s wrong?” Devon asked, frowning at the armed men.

  “I just got word my uncle is on his way back to the plantation.” Brett’s green eyes locked with Devon’s. “I’m afraid it is time for you to leave. Come with me.”

  “What about you?” Devon asked as they rushed through the corridors.

  “I’ll be fine,” Brett said, although Devon would swear there was a note of hesitation in his voice.

  They went into the drawing room. Its walls were covered with a wide variety of modern weapons. Brett rummaged through one of the desk drawers and grabbed a set of keys.

  “There is a horse waiting outside,” Brett said a little breathlessly. “He is fast, resilient. He will be able to take you far from here. Certainly far from my uncle’s clutches. Take any weapons you want.” Brett moved closer to Devon. “I would only ask one thing of you.”

  Devon swallowed, touched by the intensity of Brett’s gaze. “What?”

  “Take Elijah with you?” Brett asked softly, handing him the keys to the shackles.

  Devon reached for the keys, then held Brett’s hand captive, making no effort to release him. “Come with us. Your uncle will turn on you when he finds out what happened.”

  Brett smiled sadly. “Perhaps. But I can handle him. You know why I can’t leave.”

  Devon clenched his jaw. There was little he could do besides trying to drag Brett with him. He grabbed a couple of pistols. “These should do the trick.”

  Brett nodded, expression grim. “Then you better leave. Come.”

  “Thank you,” Devon said.

  “What for?”

  “For… everything,” Devon said, repeating the words he had once said.

  Brett smiled. “You are most welcome.”

  They ran out of the house, and Devon freed Elijah while Brett waited by two magnificent black horses. Elijah mounted the second horse while Devon took the reins of the other animal.

  “You sure I can’t change your mind?” Devon asked Brett. “About coming with us?”

  Brett shook his head. “I would love to. But I can’t.”

  Devon nodded, and then acting on impulse, he hugged Brett tightly to him. “You are one hell of an amazing man, Brett Campbell,” he whispered around the lump in his throat.

  “So are you, Captain Hall,” Brett said, his own arms going around Devon. “You better go.”

  Devon hesitated, wanting to say more, do more. “Brett, I—”

  “Go!” Brett snapped, sounding almost angry.

  Without another word, Devon jumped on his horse and together with Elijah took off at a gallop, his mount whinnying in protest at the sudden departure. Devon looked back one final time, watching as Brett and the plantation drew farther way until they vanished under the thick cloud of dust lifted by the horses’ hooves.

  IT WAS nearly dawn when Brett retired to his bedroom. Instead of lying down, he began to pace the room in a state of agitation.

  It had been easy to convince Thompson that Brett had been overpowered by Hall and Elijah and forced to surrender the weapons to his attackers. Thompson and his men might be good at carrying out orders, but they all seemed to lack brains. Making his uncle believe the lie, however, was another thing altogether.

  That would be the worst part. His uncle should be arriving any minute. And Brett would have to play the part of his life or face the consequences.

  He shook his head ruefully; he had to be insane. He had harbored a known pirate, worse, one his uncle hated with a passion that bordered on madness. Then to make things worse, he had given him and Elijah, one of his uncle’s most treasured slaves, weapons and horses, and had even helped them escape. Insanity indeed.

  So why had he done it? His heart knew the answer. He had felt drawn to Devon Hall from the moment he had laid eyes on him. Maybe it had been Hall’s vulnerability that had gotten under Brett’s skin, the way Devon had trusted Brett to take care of him. No one had ever needed him that way before; it had been a heady feeling. Whatever the cause, Brett had been lost when he had found those dark blue eyes open and staring curiously at him.

  And as the days flew by, he’d kept feeling closer to Devon, letting his guard down for the first time in years, allowing a perfect stranger to see the real Brett, to see the man inside. He sighed sadly, wondering if Hall had felt that same inexplicable connection between them.

  He shook himself out of his reverie. It didn’t matter now. It was too late to have such foolish thoughts. Had she been there, his mother would have berated him for allowing someone to break through the mask he wore. It was a dangerous thing to do. It gave power to the other person, power over him, over his emotions. He would have to remember that if he ever saw Devon Hall again.

  He threw himself on the bed fully clothed, convinced he would never be able to rest, but exhaustion took over and soon he drifted off to sleep. He awoke a little after noon, as the sun was streaming in through the windows that had remained open. He summoned a servant and asked after the governor’s whereabouts but was told his uncle was resting after his strenuous journey.

  Brett washed and dressed for the new day, deciding to go down for something to eat. At the very moment he finished his meal, his uncle entered the living room. He was frowning, his cold brown eyes gleaming dangerously.

  “Brett,” he drawled. “Thompson told me what occurred last night. What is this about a guest?”

  “Welcome home, Uncle. I found the gentleman unconscious over a week ago and brought him to the plantation.”

  “Very charitable, Nephew. And who was he?”

  Something in his uncle’s voice made Brett swallow hard. “I did not want to be too intrusive. I know he was a traveler, injured by bandits on the road to Port Royal. He was a salesman, said his name was John Singer.”

  “Is that so? That is interesting. You see, a patrol spotted this John Singer not far from here. The soldiers managed to get very close before they let those men escape. And Sergeant Hutchison swears the blond man riding one of my horses was Devon Hall, the Phantom himself. And by Thompson’s description, he was your poor, wounded guest.”

  Brett gasped in fake surprise. “Uncle, I didn’t know. You had mentioned that miscreant’s name before, but he didn’t look anything like his wanted posters. I had no way of knowing who he was.”

  “True, true. And Elijah
? Why didn’t you punish him?”

  “I believed the slave’s actions were Mr. Thompson’s fault, not his own. There was no call for the fifty lashes.”

  His uncle shook his head, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I wish I could believe you, Brett. I really do. Thompson!” he called.

  “Governor?” Thompson walked in almost immediately, and Brett knew he had been standing just outside.

  “Take my nephew to the post. I will give him the fifty lashes he would not allow you to give the slave.”

  “Uncle, no!” Brett pleaded brokenly.

  “I’m sorry, Brett, but it is time you learned your lesson. I will not be disobeyed or defied. This was the last time. Take him!”

  Brett fought against Thompson’s hold, but the man was bigger and stronger, and it was useless. He was chained to the post, his shirt torn from his back. As the leather slashed cruelly into his flesh, he closed his eyes, biting his lip to stop from crying out. He allowed his mind to wander, thinking back to the beautiful blue eyes of the pirate he had lost his heart to. And while pain invaded his whole being, a sense of relief filled his heart. Devon was far away and safe from his uncle’s clutches. And that was worth all the suffering in the world.

  Chapter II

  Tortuga Island

  Three months later

  DEVON AND Elijah sat inconspicuously at a table by the back of the tavern, watching the comings and goings of the other customers and sipping leisurely from their ales.

  “Think Jasper will come?” Elijah asked Devon.

  “He was the one who sent word that he wanted to see us. It’s in his own interest,” Devon said.

  “Wonder what he wants with us,” Elijah said.

  “Whatever it is, I will listen. His information about the whereabouts of British cruisers and the governor’s business ventures has been extremely useful. Thanks to him, we have taken a great chunk of the governor’s intended fortune and given it back to whom it really belonged. I would not trust him with my life, but his word is good.”

  “Here he comes,” Elijah warned.

  Jasper O’Neill was a man in his late fifties, wrinkled by a hard life at sea. His frail build belied a fierce temperament, one that had allowed him to survive more than one dire situation. Devon watched Jasper sit at their table, waiting until the old man had his own ale before getting down to the reason for their meeting.

  “Well? Why did you send for us?” Devon asked impatiently.

  Jasper smiled, the effect somewhat ruined by his lack of teeth. “I have in my possession something you might want to have, gentlemen.”

  “And what is that something?” Elijah said, sounding doubtful.

  “A map,” Jasper replied, looking very smug.

  “A map?” Elijah repeated, with a frown.

  “Treasure map. Belonged to Cap’ain McKenzie.”

  “We heard he died last week,” Devon said.

  Jasper nodded. “Aye, he did.”

  “And he left you the map out of the kindness of his own heart?” Devon said sarcastically.

  Jasper chuckled. “Not the kindness of his own heart, no. Mine. See, after he made his fortune, he was forced to hide everything because the British troops were hunting him down somet’ing fierce. He drew the map and hid it, but before he could disappear, he was caught and sent to prison for life.”

  “So, how did you come by his map?” Elijah asked.

  “He managed to escape two years ago, but by then, he was too old and sick to go back for his treasure. I happened to find him wandering the island and took him in. The day he died, he told me where to find the map. A reward for having taken such good care of him, you might say.”

  “So why not keep it for yourself?” Devon asked curiously.

  Jasper shook his head with a grimace. “I’m too old meself, lad. But… there is nothing to say I can’t sell the map and make a few coins to save for my old, old years,” he added with a chuckle.

  “Why us?” Elijah asked, staring at Jasper through narrowed eyes.

  “I like you. Yous good men, and you fight the good fight. Governor Campbell is the devil hisself, he is.”

  “So…,” Devon drawled slowly. “You told only us about the map?”

  Jasper chortled, obviously understanding what Devon was getting at. “Now, I never said that, Cap’ain Hall. A man must make plans, should one of his buyers not meet his demands.”

  “I see. And who else did you tell?” Devon asked with a glare that had Jasper squirming in his seat.

  “Just Cap’ain Blackburn,” Jasper replied.

  Devon hissed angrily. Blackburn was the worse scourge in the Caribbean Sea. While Devon and his new crew attacked only British ships, especially if under Rupert Campbell’s orders, and always let the prisoners go, Blackburn attacked any ship, no matter the nation, and left no survivors to tell the tale. The man was ruthless and with a thirst for blood like Devon had never seen before.

  “I suppose you are going to say you also like him and that he fights the good fight?” Elijah said, his tone sarcastic.

  “No. Like most people, I have never even seen the man, and honestly, I hope it stays that way. Speaking with his second-in-command was bad enough. The things you hear about them….” Jasper shuddered. “But he is the only one besides yourselves who can pay what I ask.”

  “Which is?” Devon asked.

  “Ten gold coins.”

  Elijah whistled. “You are asking a lot.”

  “Bah! That is nothing, laddie! McKenzie sunk hundreds of ships in his golden years, most of them full to the brim with goods. The worth of his treasure is….” Jasper shrugged helplessly. “I can’t even imagine it meself. The map itself is worth much more than the ten coins. It is a bargain. Take it or leave it.”

  “We will take it.” Devon decided.

  Jasper nodded. “Good. I’s happy it goes to you and not Blackburn.”

  “But you would still have sold it to him,” Elijah said, clearly disgusted.

  “Business is business, boy. Now, obviously I don’t have the map with me. I have no death wish. Meet me here in a week, same time. Bring the coins, I’ll bring the map.” Jasper shook Devon’s hand. “I’ll take my leave now. May the good winds carry your sails, Cap’ain Hall.”

  “Jasper?” Devon called out.

  The man interrupted his slow march to the exit and turned. “Yes, Cap’ain?”

  “It might be a good idea for you to disappear after our… deal is done. I can only assume the other buyer will not be too happy to have lost the map.”

  Jasper nodded. “I thought so as well. Don’t worry, good Cap’ain. I have the perfect hideout waiting for me once this is over. Goodbye, gentlemen.”

  “Think he will keep his word?” Elijah asked once Jasper had left the tavern.

  “Yes. He has never let us down before. I just hope his hideout is secret enough. Blackburn will be looking for him once he knows we have the map. If he finds Jasper, he’ll never get a chance to enjoy the coins or his ‘old, old years,’” Devon replied.

  “Oh my Lord,” Elijah said suddenly.

  “What?” Devon asked, frowning at him.

  “That man who just walked in is one of the slaves from the governor’s plantation,” Elijah said, rising from his seat. “I’ll be right back. I want to know what he is doing here.”

  Devon watched him approach the slave—a tall, muscled black man, whose garments were close to rags. Elijah guided him to their table and asked for ale. Once the man had the drink securely in his hands, Elijah sat down.

  “Joseph, what are you doing here?”

  “I’s a runaway slave now,” the other replied sadly.

  “And you are here in plain sight?” Elijah hissed. “Tortuga may still be out of the governor’s control, but there are spies everywhere. You have any idea what they will do to you if they catch you?”

  “I would not talk, you’s also a runaway and you’s here,” Joseph remarked sullenly.

  “Yes, but I’m not alone,
” Elijah said. “If someone recognizes me, my friend here can help me escape. And my clothes don’t draw attention to myself. Now, what are you doing here?”

  “I did not have a choice. I been lookin’ for ya,” Joseph said softly.

  “Why?” Devon asked, a feeling of dread washing over him.

  “I need your help. The plantation is gone.”

  “What do you mean the plantation is gone?” Elijah asked, voice trembling somewhat.

  “Burned to the ground,” Joseph told them with a shake of his head. “Never thought I would see the day, Elijah. It was… Hell right here on Earth. Everythin’ burned—the fields, the master’s house, the slave quarters…. There ain’t nothin’ left standing.”

  “What happened?” Devon asked urgently.

  “The night ya escaped,” Joseph began to Elijah, “young Master Brett talked foreman Thompson and his dogs into believin’ that you’s had overpowered him and forced him to give ’em horses and arms. But the next day….” He exhaled slowly, the sorrow clear in his eyes.

  “What happened?” Devon whispered, his heart lurching painfully in his chest as he thought of Brett.

  “The guv’nor arrived that night, dawn really. He did not believe the young master, decided to give him the fifty lashes the young master had refused to give ya.”

  “Lord,” Elijah whispered brokenly, covering his face with his hands.

  “The guv’nor did not get very far, though.”

  “What do you mean?” Devon asked.

  “When the slaves saw what was goin’ on, they rebelled. We turned on the guards, forced the guv’nor to free the young master. He always been good to us. He did not deserve such treatment. But then one of the slaves set the fields on fire.”

  “And?” Elijah asked.

  “When he saw all of us, the guv’nor let the young master go. But the soldiers must’ve seen the fire, and soon we could hear ’em comin’. The young master told us to run, go get away. He then struck his uncle in the face and ran away in the other direction so we could escape. He saved us, Elijah,” Joseph told them softly. “The soldiers killed some o’ us, but we knows the land. Most made it into the jungle and are safe. The white soldiers can’t stand the marshes or the jungle heat and don’t chase us there.”