Part 12 (2/2)
If only it would be as easy to bring down Nicolas Fouquet.
How would Angelica react when the cannons began to blast?
What would she think of the things he'd done in the name of the king, in order to climb the social ladder that had placed him at the bottom at birth? Or of the extent of the destruction and devastation he'd caused?
Why should he care what she thought of him?
It grated on his frayed nerves that throughout each day he was aware of her, down below in her cabin. He hadn't set eyes on her since the second day of the voyage, and yet here she was in his thoughts. At the worst possible time.
Another roar of the cannons rocked the s.h.i.+p, sending shock waves of mortal terror through Angelica. She'd lost track of how many rounds had been fired at them and how many had been fired at the enemy. Suzette and Marta sat with her on the edge of the bed in her cabin, waiting for the battle-that had begun an eternity ago-to end.
Another round of guns erupted. Petrified, Suzette squeezed her hand painfully.
Three more blasts in quick succession reverberated around them, their terrifying booms leaving Angelica's ears ringing in the aftermath. Suzette shrieked and covered her ears, but the sound was drowned out by more cannon fire.
”Battle is part of war,” Marta had explained only moments before the calamity began. She had looked relatively calm until the thunder of the cannons commenced.
Angelica's heart hammered wildly. Concern for Simon and Gabriella consumed her; thoughts of their welfare tormented her with each blast she heard.
The men moved rapidly on the deck above. Images of carnage filled her mind. And sickened her stomach. She thought of Simon up there. Was he hurt? Dying? Dead? She wanted him to be safe, to survive, unharmed.
Another round of fire shook the vessel. Wood splintered, then crashed onto the deck above. Her heart dropped to her stomach; she tensed with fright. Once all this was over, once she could see with her own eyes that Simon and Gabriella were safe and uninjured, she would kill him herself for putting them through this.
The battle raged on, round after round, making the s.h.i.+p tremble, shaking Angelica's flagging courage. She shut her eyes and covered her ears, just like Marta and Suzette. Engulfed in the h.e.l.lish noise, she lost all sense of time. All she could do was pray that they would come out of this alive, that the s.h.i.+ps would withstand all that the enemy could fire at them.
There were two more quick blasts in the distance, then a sudden round of cheers on deck.
”It's over!” Suzette exclaimed. Jumping to her feet, she clasped her hands together. ”Please G.o.d, let Paul be safe.” Angelica knew Suzette had a tendre for the shy young man, always trying to engage him in conversation.
Marta made the sign of the cross, relief etched on her face.
Angelica wished she felt as tranquil as Marta looked. Were Simon and Gabriella all right? She wasn't about to wait for someone to stroll belowdecks hours from now with the answer. She needed to know. Now.
The quiet on deck was as chilling as the battle.
”Captain?” the commander inquired, awaiting Simon's command.
The crew stood by for the final order: the order to send the fires.h.i.+p. The small vessel would finish off La Estella Blanco by setting her ablaze.
Outnumbered and outgunned, the three Spanish s.h.i.+ps had had little chance of escaping their fate. While the other two Spanish s.h.i.+ps, already stripped of their cargo, were burning, grappling irons had been tossed onto La Estella Blanco.
Climbing onto the rigging, the men had leaped across once the s.h.i.+ps were close together. The fighting continued with guns and swords until they'd finally subdued the Spaniards.
Simon looked at the bounty of silver from La Estella Blanco now resting on the deck of his s.h.i.+p, then cast a glance at the misbegotten Spanish vessel. His stomach fisted. To give the order meant certain death for its crew-a fate already shared by their comrades on the other two burning s.h.i.+ps. Yet more wasted lives for profit.
It was what he was supposed to do. What was expected of him.
You have no choice here.
To spare the enemy was treason. He and all who served under him would be labeled pirates by France, punishable by death. He wasn't afraid to die. Death was a part of his reality-he could be killed or captured at any time. However, his men were another matter altogether. He wouldn't sacrifice their lives just to demonstrate his outrage at Fouquet and Louis.
He clenched his jaw and gave the commander the nod to begin the sinking of La Estella Blanco.
The grappling hooks were removed in haste, and La Estella Blanco was set free.
It didn't take long before the vessel was on fire. The few men still alive on the unfortunate s.h.i.+p jumped into the sea to escape the lapping flames, trading one type of death for another.
The angry flames burned before Simon's eyes.
Thomas, I pray I give you sufficient honor this day. Rest in peace knowing your wife and child shall want for nothing for as long as I live. Simon turned away with a heavy heart then winced. His shoulder was injured, a minor thing that had been caused by a flying piece of wood from the broken mast. So absorbed in battle, in shouting orders, his eyes stinging from the smoke, he'd barely felt it when it happened. He'd simply yanked the piece out and carried on. His s.h.i.+rt was soiled by gunpowder and his own blood.
Simon looked down at his hands. They were slick with the blood of others. He wiped them on his breeches, but it didn't remove the sickening sight from his mind.
Fallen men were being gathered for medical a.s.sessment. The rest stood around the captured silver prize. Expected to show the men how pleased he was at a successful capture, he readied himself for a convincing performance and approached his purser and commander, mindful of the blood and debris covering the deck. The silver was inventoried before the entire crew, with the s.h.i.+p's purser dutifully recording the amount of precious metal captured. The repeated cheers from his men as well as the echoed jubilation from his other s.h.i.+ps thankfully drowned out the haunting cries from the men of La Estella Blanco and its sister s.h.i.+ps.
Just then a flash of pale blue skirts caught the corner of his eye. He looked up. His stomach dropped when he saw Angelica on deck staring at the burning s.h.i.+ps, at the devastation around her. Torn sails, pieces of wood, and bodies littered the deck and the sea.
Dieu. The very last thing he wanted was for her to see this.
Chapter Ten.
Simon watched as Angelica turned toward him, her hand clutching the rail, ignoring Marta and Suzette, who were trying to urge her back belowdecks. She looked pale and overwhelmed by the battle she'd heard and the aftermath she saw. The horror in her eyes as she took in the gruesome scene was unmistakable.
It took a moment to find his voice. He murmured to his commander to continue, then approached her. The self-loathing he'd been feeling wasn't nearly as bad as having her see what he was capable of.
Forced to step around some of the injured lying on the deck, and Toussaint, who was busy examining them, he finally reached his green-eyed beauty.
”I'm sorry, Captain. But the mademoiselle is worried about her friend,” Marta said.
Angelica stepped closer to him. ”You're injured.”
”It's nothing,” he said. ”My s.h.i.+ps are fine.” He nodded toward Domenico's s.h.i.+p nearby. ”Gabriella is fine.”
She glanced toward the s.h.i.+p. The sun's rays on her chestnut tresses created lovely reddish highlights in her hair. For an instant, he was overcome with the urge to pull her near, bury his face in those soft, curly locks, and envelop himself in her, shutting out the horrific scene he'd witnessed more times in his life than he could count.
But he was never more mindful of his blood-soiled hands.
It was absurd, completely ludicrous, actually, but he wanted her to understand, even when he couldn't accept his own actions.
And he was completely at a loss as to why the opinion of this one woman should mean anything to him at all.
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