Free My Seaswept Heart by Christine Dorsey Page B

took another drink
and belched. Then with a satisfied smile on his thin, freckled face
leaned back against the rope. “But I guess that ain’t too bad.”
    “I imagine not.”
    His chuckle was swift in coming. “Ye sure
does talk funny.”
    Sinking her neck down lower in the ragged
wool jacket Anne went silent. Why couldn’t she remember to keep her
voice low? But Joe’s next words made her realize it wasn’t her
voice she needed to watch.
    “Ye had schoolin’?”
    “Some,” Anne answered truthfully. “But it
weren’t for me.”
    “Yea, I know.” Joe lifted his head toward the
scatter of stars overhead. “This be the life for me, too. No one ta
be tellin’ ye to do this or that. Plenty ta eat.” His tone changed.
“And no booted toe kickin’ at ye.”
    “Booted toe?” Anne sat up straighter, but in
the light of the dripping candles stuck into the timbers, she could
see the guarded expression on Joe’s face.
    He laughed again, that short gruff sound
she’d learned to recognize after spending most of the day in his
company. “Me old man was quick with a kick.”
    “Your father kicked you?”
    “Not more’n I could handle,” Joe said with a
bravado thin enough to shatter. He stuck his chin out. “Don’t need
to worry ’bout him none. Left ’em soon as I got me the chance.”
    “I’m glad.” Anne took another drink from her
cracked cup. The liquid, strong as it was, did little to wash away
the foul taste of Joe’s story. She knew there were evil people, of
course. Willet d’Porteau and his crew. Jamie MacQuaid might fit
into that mold, too, but a father? That was too frightening to
imagine. Her own had been as kind and gentle as his brother,
Richard. Like her guardian, Henry was a scholar, a man who read and
explained and lived for his books. He had never spoken a harsh word
to her let alone physically harmed her.
    “Won’t find much ’a that on the Lost
Cause , though.”
    “Much of what, beatings?” Anne’s thoughts had
been yanked to the painful day she learned her parents had perished
at sea, so it took her a moment to realize what the boy meant.
    “Aye.” Joe drained his cup. “Cap’n Jamie
don’t hold with none.”
    “’Tis good to hear.”
    Joe nodded, then twisted his head toward the
sailors who sprawled near the main mast. They sang a song Anne
didn’t recognize and could barely understand. But it was loud and
judging from the accompaniment of snickers and guffaws, bawdy.
Catching only the occasional word was enough to pinken Anne’s
cheeks despite what she’d gotten used to from Israel.
    When Joe looked back at Anne he scrunched up
and leaned his bony elbows on equally bony knees. “Being more
experienced and all I think I should warn ye.”
    “About what?”
    “Some a’ them ain’t as kindhearted as the
cap’n.”
    Kindhearted? She hardly thought that a fair
description of Jamie MacQuaid, but since Joe seemed so sincere
about his advice she kept her council and shifted to hear him
better.
    His voice dropped to a whisper even though
there was no one within hearing distance. “Stay clear ’a
Stymie.”
    “Stymie?” She’d heard that name before. “What
does he do?”
    Joe pulled back as if his father had caught
up with him and delivered one of his kicks. “Just stay clear.” He
looked at her, his eyes narrowed and Anne wondered if he could see
beyond her disguise. And if he did what she would do. But he only
shrugged before settling back, his head pillowed by the rope.
    “He ain’t likely to fancy ye none as dirty as
ye be.”
    Dirty? Anne’s gaze skimmed over the group,
none of whom appeared much cleaner than she and felt a pang of
resentment. Which was quickly squelched. Heaven knew she didn’t
want any of the pirates to fancy her anyway. And staying away from
all of them was her plan.
    A plan that over the next few days proved
difficult.
    The Lost Cause was a single-masted
sloop, sharp of hull and swift of sail... and crowded. There was
hardly a