The Governor's Bride

The pirate ship appeared on the horizon like a tease. Caroline stood at the water's edge, collecting clams in her hiked up skirt, her toes tickled by the sultry water. Her husband craved them, sucking the clams down with a relish that was oddly sexual. She abhorred the squinch of the soft, rubbery clam bodies against her teeth even more than the taste.

Caroline stared out over the water. She wondered if the ship was a mirage, a fantastical outgrowth of the turquoise sea and the endless blue sky. Her husband was the new royal governor of Britain's colony, Bahama, appointed by the king himself in 1774, which should have earned her a modicum of respect. Instead, the other wives mocked her, rolling their eyes at the ample bosom that no amount of lace could contain, the tumble of blonde curls that sprang free from her sunhat as she worked in the heat. Of course, she decided, they were jealous of her.

Caroline had just turned twenty, with eyes that were both innocent and knowing, and she knew how to make herself attractive to a higher class of man. William had slowly rolled down her stockings, kissing her deeply, promising her as he slid his hands up her thighs that in Bahama, she could run barefoot on the hot white sand on a beach where the sun always shone brightly on the sea. He touched her sweetly and determinedly, and the young girl from rainy Liverpool eagerly agreed to marry him, and travel with him to an exotic island across the ocean.

When the other wives complained of seasickness, Caroline told them she found the trip romantic, and blushing, hinted at a night spent in William's arms, rocking together in the tiny cabin, lulled to sleep by an excess of passion and gently rolling waves.

Each night, the stern, silent diplomat peeled off her skirts and petticoats and made desperate love to her. He was a surprisingly agile lover. They had only been in Bahama for two weeks when she discovered that William was a philanderer, plucking a flower, much younger than Caroline, from the gaggle of giggling girls, children of the plantation workers, who passed her on the path to the beach each morning. Caroline had followed them, watching them together, hiding herself in the lush foliage each time they stopped to kiss. His dalliance was more depraved than she could have imagined.

"Perhaps she seduced him," Larissa suggested as they worked in the kitchen, shucking the odious clams. Larissa was an older maiden lady who had accompanied them on the voyage to assume the role of the Governor's housekeeper. "They all want to work in the governor's home."

"Nonsense! She is just a little girl! William's proclivities are a disgrace." Caroline saw in a rush of understanding why William had been banished to this godforsaken territory, stripped of his inherited title, it was a better fate than prison. His entire preposterous plan, the seduction, the hasty wedding and quick departure, all became clear. To think she had imagined that she had driven William mad with desire! Obviously, the other wives thought her a fool. And, clearly, she was.

That night she stood on the beach, watching the sunset. She didn't want to return to the empty house. William rarely came home until late in the evening, now, she wondered if he would be back at all. She hoped not, the idea of being close to him disgusted her now. The pirate ship was closer, she thought, much closer than it had been this morning. She could make out the black sails, filled with the evening breeze, drawing an ominous, yet intriguing pattern against the darkening sky.

Caroline stayed out later than she should, her shoes in one hand, watching as the ship faded into night, the distant, blinking glare of oil lamps extinguished one by one.

"What are you doing out here?" Larissa asked, grabbing her hand. "It could be dangerous!" She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders.

"Why?" Caroline asked. "I haven't seen a soul."

"Come along now. The men are meeting in the chapel. They spotted a pirate ship offshore. Action must be taken!"

"The ship is perhaps a day out," Caroline said, her voice as wistful as the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the sand. "Maybe less."

"You sound as if you can't wait, you foolish girl." Larissa yanked on Caroline's arm. "Come on."

Caroline poured a second serving of William's whiskey into a pewter tankard. He would be displeased. The crystal liqueur glasses, a wedding gift from William's uncle, the Earl of Surrey, reserved for the tiny thimblefuls of sherry he doled out to her, were useless. What right had he, she wondered, knowing what she knew about him, to judge her? She stared out the window. A sole lamp still burned on the pirate ship. She wondered what they were planning. A midnight foray onto the beach? Their house was the closest. Would she be here alone? She tossed down the rest of the scotch. It would not be tonight, in any case. Perhaps tomorrow.

The strong drink made Caroline feel adventurous. Clad only in her white linen nightdress, she slipped outdoors, padding barefoot, once again, to the beach.

By the darkness of night, the pirate ship had moved much closer to shore. She admired their trickery. They had known that the unwitting colonials, now tucked into their beds, would not expect them until tomorrow.

Caroline's heart quickened as she heard the slap of oars against the water. Suddenly a hand grabbed her around the middle. "What are you doin' out here, pretty one? Don't you know there are pirates about?"

"She'll do," said another voice, and before Caroline could utter a scream, the two men bundled her onto the rowboat.

Caroline sat in the stern of the pirate ship, a handkerchief tied over her mouth.

"Get rid of that rag," the roguishly handsome young pirate captain ordered. "No one to hear her holler out here." One of his mates pulled away the cloth. Captain Roy stared at her closely, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Cor, ain't she a beauty?" The mate said. Slipping his finger into the bodice of her nightdress, he undid a button, exposing her breasts.

Caroline slapped his face.

"Keep your dirty hands off her!" Roy barked. "Leave us alone!"

He pulled Caroline hungrily into his arms. "I could not have waited a second longer. At least you had the old gov to keep you amused."

"He was not what he seemed," she said ruefully. Caroline paused to kiss him, relishing the touch of his lips against hers. It had been months, and William, despite all his initial enthusiasm, had been a poor substitute. "I'm not sure our plan will work, Roy. The governing body may not be willing to pay my ransom. I have discovered that William is the basest of creatures."

He took her hand and led her down the ladder below decks into his cabin. "We'll proceed as planned and see how it goes, my darling." He pulled the nightgown off over Caroline's head. "Dear God above, I do adore you."

She awoke naked in a tumble of sheets. An emissary had been sent early this morning with her wedding band, a demand for £1000 sterling and a warning: If the pirate ship was attacked, Caroline would be made to walk the plank.

Roy appeared with coffee and biscuits. "Your old mate still bakes better than anyone," Caroline said, taking a bite. "What is the word from Bahama?"

"Nothing yet. Now finish your breakfast, my love, because I must have you again." Caroline was a painting, a perfect brushstroke of rose and peach carelessly swirled onto an eiderdown canvas. Roy could not resist her, he never could, not since he had asked her to pose for him, when she was just a shop girl setting out freshly made truffles at the local confectionery, back in the days when he had dreamed of making a living with his art.

As he took her into his arms, the staccato pounding of gunshots rang out from the beach. Roy peered out the porthole. "Those numbskulls seem to have started a skirmish."

"Just as long as you don't need to join them," Caroline said, holding him tightly. She had been eighteen when he first painted her in his tiny flat overlooking the Thames. Boldly letting the modest artist's drape drop to the floor, she had begged him to put down his paints and capture her in an entirely different way.

"Dear, Lord, no," Roy replied. He couldn't have left her if he tried. Caroline belonged to him, his muse and his lover. When his uncle died, leaving him the sturdy old schooner, and his passions turned from the palette to the sea, which proved infinitely more profitable, Caroline remained devotedly at his side.

Word came late in the afternoon, when their bodies were still tangled together. Roy's mate handed him a letter carried by a haughty young plantation worker in a canoe. He had shown no fear: the pirates had no quarrel with the servants. Precisely at 6 PM, William himself would be dispatched by rowboat with the money to exchange for his wife. Caroline stood on the stern, her white nightdress fluttering in the breeze. The sails were raised, ready for imminent departure. Obviously, the colonials had sacrificed the governor for this task. She was sure none of them had wanted the Crown's disgraced nobility here in the first place. Now they had found a means of discarding him. As he pulled alongside the pirate ship, letting the paddles go still in the oarlocks, William's face was pale. "Caroline! It will be alright! I have the ransom."

Roy's first mate raised his musket and shot William square in the chest. Then he shot a hole in the bottom of the rowboat. Two other mates reached overboard and hoisted up the heavy leather satchel of cash.

The first mate dug through the coins. "Looks like it's all here," he reported with satisfaction.

"We've got a good stiff breeze," Roy said, taking the helm. "Let's get out of these waters."

Caroline stood behind him, her arms tight around his waist. "Where are we off to now?" she asked. Of course she would go anywhere, as long as she was with him.

"Due north," Roy replied, swinging the huge wheel hard to starboard. "I must rendezvous with a man named Washington. This money is earmarked for him. Scuttlebutt is, the colonies will soon revolt against the Crown. General Washington is their leader. I have pledged my loyalty to him."

All at once, everything fell neatly into place. "Are you telling me the Bahamian colonials used my kidnapping to help fund a revolution? And get rid of William? How delightfully devious!"

Nodding, he turned to kiss her. "Yes. The leaders here in fact are a band of Patriots disguised as loyalists."

"I always knew you were an honorable man," Caroline said blissfully.

"Trim that mainsail!" Roy shouted to his first mate, a grin splitting his face. "We're off to free the New World."