The Bride of Blackbeard Read online

  Lucian squeezed her hand gently as they walked to the roaring fire on the beach. Thirty or so of Lucian’s friends sat laughing and drinking. Once they spotted Lucian and Stanzy, countless handshakes and cries of “Lucian, old man! Where have you been?” and “How did you manage to get her to marry you!” began.

  Two stories unfolded and the bravado and wordplay kept her on the edge of her seat until the teller had concluded. Constanza then permitted herself to exhale as the excitement concluded.

  Jon, the undeclared master of ceremonies, turned to her. “Come now, Constanza. England is the home to many famous writers—surely you have one story for us!”

  “I am not a storyteller by nature. My mother had a gift for it. Give me a moment and I will give it a go.”

  Concentrate, she told herself. She stared off into the waves for a few moments, while the quiet sounds of people laughing and fire crackling filled her unconscious hearing. She pictured her mother sitting by the hearth in her rocking chair, needlepoint in hand as she attempted to keep her two daughters entertained and complete her work at the same time.

  Maura Smythe’s soothing voice filled Constanza’s ears, and her eyes welled up with tears at the wonderful memory of a time when she’d felt protected.

  “I have thought of one,” she proclaimed boldly to the group.

  All eyes turned to her. Lucian’s hand slipped behind her back in reassurance. He didn’t look at her, but his touch let her know she could be herself here without reservation.

  “My dear mother was from Ireland, and she always had a story to tell. Not sweet ones of maids and princes, however. But tales where it seemed she wanted to scare the knickers off of us.”

  This brought an appreciative round of chuckling from the circle and Constanza relaxed a bit.

  “This is one she told on a cold, windy night. The Moruadh are creatures from the land of Tir fo Thoinn, or the land beneath the waves. They resemble beautiful women, but are not destined to walk the lands surrounding the seas. One day, a man from Cork was strolling along the shoreline near his home when he happened upon a beautiful green cloak hidden in the thicket by his cottage. Behind him, sounded a strange voice. It resembled a gull shrieking and the call of a humpback whale, mingled together.

  “Turning, he saw a woman. Long, blonde hair, stringed with seaweed, obscured her face. She stood taller than he at six feet and was naked as the day she was born.

  “At the sight of him, she began to cry so he took her into his home. Once the hair and seaweed were cleared from her face, he beheld the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. So beautiful was she that, despite being a principled man, he felt compelled to lie with her. And he did so the very instant she stepped over the threshold into his cottage. She became pregnant and reluctantly agreed to become his bride.

  “Over the years, the Corker noticed certain traits his wife possessed that immensely troubled him. One was that she did not often speak, for which he was sure some husbands would be grateful—”

  Several snickers erupted amongst the listeners, then immediately quieted as Stanzy continued.

  “But when she finally did speak her voice had an odd sing-song quality that made him feel stupid and sleepy.

  “Another thing was that her feet were webbed. And, as if that were not troubling enough, two of their four children also had the webbing. He tried to tell himself this was just an oddity and he should not spit good fortune in the eye.

  “Still, other problems pricked his conscience. Each and every night she would stare out at the sea, and when she did this her face would resemble one mooning over a lost lover.

  “On several occasions, he caught her frolicking in the waves at night. When he approached the water he saw fins moving around her and splashes within feet of her, which quickly disappeared into the blackness when they sensed his presence. He tried not to let it bother him, as he felt she was only truly happy when in the sea. Also, it was the only time she smiled, which was fine with the Corker as her teeth were a little too pointed for his liking.

  “One day, as her husband watched, she opened an old trunk and was surprised as she gazed upon the cloak she’d lost the day she’d met her husband. She picked it up and caressed it lovingly against her cheeks. Slowly, her hair began to lose its blonde luster. It changed before her frightened husband and children’s eyes to the color of seaweed.”

  Purposefully, Stanzy paused, letting the tension build. She gazed around at the expectant faces, putting a slight look of apprehension on her face. Then she continued.

  “She slipped on the cloak, and walked out the door of the cottage to the water’s edge. She only looked back one time as she waded into the surf, and when she opened her mouth to utter a parting farewell, the shrieks of a seagull rent through the morning salt air.

  “Creatures of all types filled the waves to congratulate her on her return to the surf, and she then returned to Tir fo Thoinn.

  “So it is the wisest course, that if one lives by the sea, to make sure and check the feet of the bride, before she slips on her wedding shoes.”

  The circle of Bankers was quiet after she stopped speaking. Amused, Stanzy saw several of the younger men in the group sneak glances at their girlfriend’s feet, which were buried in the sand by the glowing fire.

  Applause for the tale began all at once, with a few shouting “More!”

  Lucian turned to smile at her.

  Over the next few days Stanzy felt more at ease and accepted than she ever had in her life. Dining at neighbor’s homes each evening, she found the people were unassuming and kind.

  Later in the evening, Aunt Rose would be hosting a gathering as their visit was winding to a close.

  Guests sat around the fireplace, while outside, the night wind whipped around ferociously. Those of Lucian’s close friends who were married brought their wives, so the party in the small cottage numbered fourteen.

  Andrew walked to the window and peered out at the surf. “It is shaping into a right storm tonight!”

  The six men present nodded in agreement and Lucian strode to Andrew’s side. “And it is a cold one out there.”

  “How cold will it get?” Constanza asked.

  Andrew looked serious for a moment before replying, “There’s been times when a wreck off the coast could not be reached, and the men froze solid to the rigging.”

  “Andrew! Constanza has no use for tales such as that I am sure!” chastised Virginia, his wife.

  Amused, Lucian said, “She is a rare breed of woman. I expect she would man the boats if she were a stronger swimmer.”

  A bell sounded outside and Stanzy watched the women’s faces drain of color.

  “What is that?” she asked quickly.

  Directing his attention to her, Lucian said, “The lifesaving station bell. There must be trouble in the water.”

  In unison, the men began to gather their belongings in a practiced, orderly manner.

  Virginia cast a concerned look at her husband. “I will go and pick up little Andy and meet you at home when...it’s over.”

  As people exited the cottage, Lucian gently pulled Constanza into the kitchen and hugged her tightly to him. “I will be especially careful, but I must go with them.”

  “I understand.” She would expect no less of him, or herself.

  After Lucian left, Constanza sat staring at the fire as Aunt Rose steadily rocked in her chair on the hearth rug. She checked the time again—only one hour since he had departed, but it felt like a year.

  Sympathetically, Rose said, “I know child, waiting is always more difficult than anything else. Be glad you do not live so close to the shore year round, as you would have to endure this often. Lucian’s mother had to. The boy is steadfast.”

  “That is an understatement,” Stanzy said offhandedly, and a little too curtly.

  Time passed, and neither spoke as Stanzy paced back and forth across the room. Suddenly, the silence wore on her and she realized she may have offended her new in-law.
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  She walked and stood in front of Rose. “I apologize. I admit I do not know what to do with myself. I have never been the waiting at home sort.”

  The old woman smiled. “No. You, too, are steadfast.”

  Stanzy laughed out loud, “Yes, I am. I am just as stubborn as he is.”

  “Us Bankers do not have time for the petty emotions mainlanders express. For a goodly long time, just to keep alive from the elements, we had to band together. So we wish each other well, and are there for one another. It is necessary for our survival.”

  “Yes. I know. Many persons I have been acquainted with over my lifetime are a jealous sort. When something good happens to others they feign happiness, but it always shows in their eyes that they truly do not mean it. I think one has to know oneself and be comfortable with who we are, in order to not let the ugly side of the emotions come through.”

  “It also has to do with what life has shown you. If you see enough suffering, you learn to appreciate what is important,” said Rose quietly. “Must have been too many whales killed this year.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You mean Lucian never told you that in years when too many whales and dolphins are killed, it means we will have many storms?”

  Constanza shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot wait any longer...where should I go?”

  ~ * ~

  Stanzy took the covered wagon and headed south to the surf area Aunt Rose had described. She’d a lit lantern beside her and futilely tried to see into the gale. Although not a hurricane, it was a nasty storm nonetheless.

  Farther down the coast, she spied something—a huge black mass in the water.

  She arrived in time to see the last longboat team hit the massive swells. As they cut across diagonally, the boat crested high on a wave then crashed down the same distance. Stanzy became nauseated just watching it.

  Running down onto the beach, she stopped in the shallow water.

  What do you think you are doing? You are not a strong swimmer. Be sensible, stay put. Before long the boats will bring passengers alive to shore. Then you can assist.

  A massive explosion rocked the night sky. In the fiery glow, longboats could be seen in the water around the wreckage. An involuntary gasp escaped her throat, and her hands flew to cover her mouth. The light from the blaze showed men, women and children, leaping from the partially capsized vessel into the churning sea.

  The first rescue longboat was making its way to shore when a massive swell caught and held it suspended for what seemed an eternity before it overturned. Lightning lit the sky grotesquely, allowing Constanza to watch the shapes slip into the inky water. Thunder boomed and she jumped at the sound.

  She began to run, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it aside as she headed into the water. Its weight would pull her under. Visions from dreams of women sinking to the bottom, while they struggled to release themselves from the heavy materials surrounding them, filled her head.

  Clad only in her shift, Constanza plunged into the surf, heading toward the capsized vessel. She dove again and again, frantically feeling all around her for anything that felt human. Finally, her hand grabbed what she thought was seaweed, but nonetheless she pulled it up with all her might. Clutched in her fist was a handful of hair—a little girl floated limp and lifeless.

  She fought the waves pounding the shoreline and carried the child up to the wagon, placing her in the back on her side. Quickly, she wrapped a blanket around her and pounded furiously on her back. In no time, the girl vomited seawater and ragged breathing commenced. Pulling the cover tighter around her, Stanzy cautioned her to stay put.

  Racing to the shore again, Stanzy stopped short.

  A woman was dazedly searching through the surf. Repeatedly she went down and scrambled up again. Stanzy watched her spew out seawater and scream from her fallen position. “Ella! Ella! Where are you?”

  Constanza helped her stand, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. The woman was in shock. “Is Ella blonde?” Stanzy yelled over the wind and pounding surf.

  The woman looked at her, trying to comprehend the question. Then she screamed, “Yes!”

  “She is safe, in the wagon, up there.” Stanzy pointed.

  The woman lumbered forward, falling in the sand, then regained her posture. Stanzy saw her reach the wagon.

  Longboats were arriving on shore in droves now. At least twelve by her count, all with screaming people and a few animals.

  A huge explosion resounded through the night air. Constanza looked out to the wreck just in time to see it disappear below the waterline.

  Another ship for the Atlantic graveyard.

  Stanzy ran to the wagon, removed blankets and began to meet the injured on the beach, helping them to the wagon. All the while her stomach clenched tighter and tighter.

  Where is he?

  Where is he?

  Please, I am not sure I can continue to breathe if he does not come back. Why did I ever fall in love?

  She’d put the first stitch into a gash in a young man’s arm when she felt thick arms encircle her waist. A voice in her ear whispered, “What a grand holiday I have brought you on, my darling!”

  “Oh, thank You, God,” she cried, as she turned and flung her arms around his neck.

  Fingers traced the musket on her lap as they headed toward Bath to find Katrina. Stanzy’s troubled mind raced.

  Aunt Rose had made them promise a return visit soon after the baby was born. Every time Constanza insisted she wasn’t pregnant, Rose just gave her a knowing look.

  Surely with my background, I would know.

  Her head bobbed and dipped as the rattle and movement of the carriage lulled her to sleep after the night’s toiling against the storm.

  ~ * ~

  “Come here, Constanza.” Uncle Delvin’s deep rumbling baritone beckoned. His formidable voice completely contradicted his personality, for he was the most approachable man she’d ever met, not to mention the only one she’d ever felt truly loved her. Hands so massive, his fingers looked like little bangers to her as a child.

  “Yes, Uncle?” She didn’t feel the day could have gotten any better. He’d come and taken her by herself to the country. He had let her ride one of his new, best horses. His cook served her supper, and as she was usually the one doing the serving, it was a fantastic treat.

  It wasn’t very often that anyone was concerned with her happiness, so this special time was utopia in her eyes.

  “I want to teach you something today, and I want you to keep it between us—a secret if you will. Not many people would approve of it as it is entirely unconventional for a lady, but let’s face it poppet, nothing in your sixteen years has been conventional.”

  He pulled out his musket and handed it to her. When she took it, her hands fell a few inches with the weight.

  “I will not always be around to look after you, and your brother and sister. I will sleep better knowing you are able to defend yourself.” He removed the powder horn.

  She swallowed hard and studied every movement as he poured the gunpowder into the barrel.

  “You need a piece of cloth, as a seal over the gunpowder.” He ripped off a small scrap from a larger cloth and spat on it. “This is called a spit patch.”

  Her eyes narrowed. He rolled his eyes and said, “It is to create a seal for pressure in the barrel. My goodness child, that mind was made for science.”

  He handed her the lead ball. “Place it in the barrel and then use your ‘rod’ to push it down. You must make sure it is all the way down to the powder. Once your rod bounces a bit when you drop it, then you know it is ready.”

  She cocked the gun, and he poured the powder into the frism pan. “Make sure some powder gets into the hole, so that the ignition spark travels inside.”

  As she shot the musket the first time, the noise made her jump. By the end of the day, she was able to use the sights to at least shoot in a general direction. As night began to fall Uncle Delvin helped her int
o the carriage, and she found herself wishing she could stay with him—forever. When she was here, she actually felt a little like a child again, as she knew he would take care of her.

  But it was not to be. As they approached Bristol, the tears started to streak down her filthy face, cutting black tracks on her cheeks. Although she loved her siblings dearly, she dreaded returning to this life.

  He put his arm around her. “I know how it is for you, but I am out to sea most of the year, and he is still your father. I will be back as soon as I am able, and I will bring all of you out to my manor, for a fortnight next time.”

  ~ * ~

  As they rattled along on the way to Hawthorne House, Stanzy’s thoughts kept returning to Aunt Rose, and her striking personality. During their time together, Stanzy had learned, much to her delight, that Rose had knowledge of healing maladies using nutrients from the sea. It seemed like another lifetime since her mother had shared the herbal teachings with her.

  Rose told her she’d discovered oil from cod had healing properties that dramatically aided vision in some of the older folks. She’d been cautioned by other Bankers, however, just to use the oil from the fish, and not the fish’s liver, as some had died when this was used.

  Constanza immediately thought of Megan’s photophobia. Something was clearly wrong with the child’s eyes, for she continually squinted, or looked out of the corner of her eye at you. Occasionally Megan would take shiny objects and whisk them back and forth across her field of vision and scream with delight. Other days, she could barely open her eyes.

  Stanzy was anxious to try this treatment on her, which she decided must be absolutely better than leeches.

  ~ * ~

  Katrina almost took flight, bounding off the porch steps of Hawthorne House.

  She flung herself around Constanza’s neck. Stanzy reluctantly admitted she’d rarely seen Katrina look so well. Her dark brown hair curled around her face and her cheeks flushed with happiness.