Chapter 7: News from Home

[Undated Entry]
On an island in the Caribbean

SHE’D FORGOTTEN THE name of the island. Perhaps didn’t have a name, but it was a convenient water stop for Captain Beauchamp andBlack Weasel. It boasted a clear lake and running streams. More important, it was considered neutral territory by almost all. The exceptions were those who accepted no authority whatsoever. For the rest, however, smugglers, go-anywhere-carry-anything-or-anyone captains like Beauchamp as well as pirates, it was a safe place to take on water, to rest, and perhaps even to enjoy some pleasures of the flesh.

That night on the island, she’d rolled over against Gérard. She smelled the salt on his skin, the fading aroma of her own scents that followed their vigorous lovemaking. His skin burned, it seemed to her, when she rested the pads of her fingers on his neck to feel his steady pulse. His hair, unkempt and uncut since their last port, was redolent of salt and sweat. She felt the stubble on his cheek. A visit to the barber at their next port would be in order, she thought.

For herself as well. She’d seen her reflection in the broken piece of mirror in their cabin. She was long overdue for a visit to someone who was knowledgeable about cutting a woman’s tresses. She buried her nose in Gérard’s hair and whispered in his ear.

“Gérard, how long must we continue this?”

She meant their life aboard ship. Beauchamp did not seem displeased or bored with them even if privately Amélie suspected it was her own charms, available to Beauchamp whenever he called her, that ensured their continued welcome.

That wasn’t entirely fair, she realized. There had been that skirmish with an aggressive contraband runner two months ago, one that required cutlasses and knives to resolve. Gérard had acquitted himself in a handsome fashion that day. He’d relied more on his wrestling skill than his knife work, he told Amélie later, but he’d saved one crewman’s life and had tossed at least three of the other crew overboard.

Nevertheless, the routine aboard had begun to wear on her.

“Are you tired of this life, Amélie?” he answered.

“In a word, yes. I miss Father. I miss Grace.”

She giggled.

“I miss Sandrine, too.” She did not name Antoine, but she missed him as well. They’d left him behind at his request months ago on an island colonized by France. She didn’t know where he was now, but he could not return to their home island under any circumstances. He was relatively safe as long as he avoided English jurisdiction.

Gérard hugged her and ran his hand slowly down her back. A little sweaty, a little ripe. The night was warm as nights always were and they had no need to dress after their lovemaking. Their youth meant they often needed to join more than once. They wouldn’t be disturbed. Captain Beauchamp, who was Amélie’s only other lover now that Antoine had left the ship, was busy with other pursuits this evening. He enjoyed the pleasures of men and women.

Gérard kissed her.

“There is news, Amélie.”

She stiffened. The news couldn’t be good.

“Is Father dead? Sick?”

Gérard kissed her again and laughed and pressed his hand against her bottom. Without thinking, she spread her legs a little.

“No, my love. Father and Grace are fine.”

He kissed her once more.

“More than fine. I had a letter from Father Saupin, remember him?”

“Sort of. The fat one?”

“That’s him. He was at the house for a weekend visit and the subject turned to us. Father and Grace said they hoped we were well and wished that we would get in touch.”

“How did Father Saupin know where to write?”

“He knew someone who knows Beauchamp and knew he would put in to Little Tortuga again sooner or later, so Father Saupin wrote to an innkeeper there.”

Amélie stiffened in Gérard’s arms. She pushed away to look him in the eye.

“We were there over two months ago, Gérard. Why haven’t you told me before?”

“Because the letter had already arrived when we called there before this last trip. I’d written back and wanted to hear what they were thinking.”

Gérard cuddled her.

“It’s good news, Amélie. Well, mostly good.” He kissed her shoulder. “Father is not well. It’s not serious, only a touch of fever, and Grace is treating him. But that’s not all. Sugar prices continue to drop and Father plans to sell out and return to England with Grace. Grace wants to reconcile and so does Father.”

“When, Gérard?”

She felt him shrug.

“They didn’t say, but Father says he would like to see us as soon as possible.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said ‘Yes,’ Amélie.”

She squeezed him tight. Her tears began before she knew it.”

“Thank you, Gérard. When? How?”

“Beauchamp will put in to Little Tortuga again sometime in the next couple of weeks. We’ll get passage as soon as we can to the island.”

“I love you, Gérard.”

He ran his hand between her legs.

“I know.”

His fingers found her wet and she spread her legs a little more to give him room. He advanced and took over the new territory.

“Don’t stop, Gérard. Don’t stop, ever.”

“I won’t.”

When his finger paused at her entrance Amélie squeezed him and for a second brought her legs together to hold him where he was. But only for a moment, and when she relaxed again he pushed forward.

Amélie took Gérard’s head in her hands and kissed him. She lingered on his lips to explore first above, then below with lips and tongue. She moved to his neck and bit him, and he jumped. She smelled his sweat strongly here, she didn’t know why, and she moved up his cheek to stick her tongue in his ear. At that he jumped and squeezed her and thrust against her.