She managed not to slam the door to her room when she got back to it. But her frustration didn’t last long. That interlude, having Damon all to herself again, had been too nice.
In the morning, she had a quick breakfast before they all rowed out to Damon’s ship. She’d come ashore in her rose brocade traveling dress and she wore it now, although she’d left off the matching spencer jacket because the weather was so hot here in late August. Warren, Drew, and Boyd had departed earlier to ride to town and be inside the tavern when they got there. James was still chafing at the necessity of remaining out of sight until Pierre’s new location was obtained.
It didn’t take long to reach the harbor, where they got the last available berth, so they didn’t have to row ashore. Jeremy and Anthony had raided Nathan’s wardrobe and blended in perfectly. Jeremy had a bandanna tied about his head, and Tony was wearing an old tricorn hat with a pink feather. Neither man wore a jacket, and both had pistols stuck in their belts. They walked Jacqueline ashore, one on either side of her, following Damon and Mortimer, who led the way to the rendezvous site.
The tavern was near the docks and was crowded even at that early hour, which wasn’t surprising with so many ships presently docked. The patrons appeared to be an even mix of traditional sailors and men of a rougher caliber, not necessarily pirates, but not friendly sorts, either.
“Anyone you recognize—not counting ours?” Jeremy asked Damon in a low voice as they entered.
“No.”
The Anderson brothers were seated at a table near the entrance where they could keep an eye on the whole room and anyone who walked through the door. But every eye in the room fixed on Jacqueline. Laughter was cut short and silence descended for several long moments. It was what Jack had expected. Ladies didn’t usually frequent such places. If the room weren’t so crowded, she might have pretended to struggle a little or at least pulled her arms away from her uncle and brother, who were clasping them. But the last thing they wanted was for anyone there to try to help her.
They moved forward to the long bar, where the man behind it was watching them closely.
Damon leaned forward and gave him the password. “As you can see, I have Pierre’s prize.”
The man nodded. “Wait.” He entered a back room to the side of the bar, leaving the door open.
“Be easy,” Damon whispered behind him.
“Smells like a trap,” Jeremy whispered back, but after glancing behind himself and not seeing anyone getting up from the tables, amended, “Or not.”
The tavern keeper returned and handed a note across the bar to Damon, who glanced at it before putting it in his pocket. He started to thank the man—until Catherine Meyer walked out of that same back room and came around the bar to stand in front of him.
She was grinning, nearly laughing. “Success at last!” she crowed, then turned her gloating expression on Jacqueline. “My father will be so pleased to finally meet you, Jack. And who are these fellows?” She was giving Jeremy a long, appreciative look.
“Your father’s men make lousy sailors,” Damon said. “I hired a few more in London.”
Catherine’s eyes came back to him. “Where are his men? I didn’t notice any of them on the deck of your ship as you sailed in.”
“You were watching for us?”
“Of course. And his men?” She didn’t exactly look suspicious—yet.
“Last night they celebrated being so close to landing,” Damon said. “They’re likely still sleeping it off. I saw no reason to wake them just to come ashore since we aren’t staying here. And why are you here?”
“I finished my task successfully, too.” She laughed. “Those New York bankers’ wives are so rich! And since it was nearing the time of your return, I decided to wait for you here. I’ve only been here a few days. Good of you to not keep me waiting too long.”
“Again, why?”
“Because I’d rather deliver her to my father, if you don’t mind.”
Damon stiffened. “I do mind.”
“Too bad.” Catherine smirked and signaled to her men.
Nearly half the room stood up!
Jacqueline was immediately shoved behind her escort, which left her standing next to Catherine, who was quickly opening her purse no doubt to get a weapon to detain Jack. Jacqueline socked Catherine’s nose first, which Jack found so utterly satisfying! Catherine slid to the floor, screaming and trying to stanch the blood from her nose.
Jacqueline reached down and pulled the purse off Catherine’s arm to get whatever weapon was in it. She also saw a lot of jewelry in the bag, mostly rings and bracelets, yet another fortune for her damned father.
“Stay down unless you want a boot to your face, too,” Jack told the pirate’s daughter, pointing the little pistol from the purse at her as well.
A lot of fighting was going on in the rest of the room. But the Anderson brothers had made a big dent in the numbers, having taken a lot of Catherine’s men by surprise from behind. Anthony and Jeremy were making quick work of those who’d charged them. Damon wasn’t abandoning his bulwark station directly in front of Jack, merely beating down anyone who got close to him. Mortimer had charged into the middle of the fray. Unfortunately, some of the normal sailors couldn’t resist a fight, either, and didn’t care whom it was against. Some helped, some didn’t. Still, the fight was over rather quickly, considering most of Catherine’s crew was in that room. And Jacqueline had the evidence in her hands that would assure Catherine Meyer would get her just deserts. Now, if apprehending her father could be this easy. . . .
Chapter Forty-Six
STANDING ON THE DECK of The Maiden George, Damon said, “He’s been building a small army, but whether it’s a useful army remains to be seen. If Lacross just wanted numbers in anticipation of dealing with your allies after he killed you, then he might not have been particular in who he sent his captains to hire, and they may not all be willing to fight for him.”
Damon had been asked for any more information about the pirates that he could warn them about, before they debarked. Spotting the anchored ships with no harbor was the only indication they had that they’d found the actual camp. But this island was a jungle thick with foliage, and at a glance, nothing of a camp was sighted.
Two ships from Malory’s fleet had turned about to go ashore farther back, Warren Anderson leading those crews, so the base, if it was in there, would be mostly surrounded to prevent escape. James was giving his in-law time to get into position.
“How many ships are usually anchored at his base?” James asked next.