“How much is the bounty?”

  “An outrageous sum,” Jacobus said, grinning.

  Sirena raced to the rail and retched. till she had to hold her ribs for support.

  “And you think you can sail this ship in your condition? Wait here, Capitana. I’ll be back in an hour.” Sirena nodded weakly. She sat in a pile of rigging, her head between her knees to stop the whirling dizziness. Jacobus was right. What in the name of God had possessed her to think she could make the trip to Spain alone? It would take months and she had given no thought to provisions. Fool, she chided herself.

  Tears welled in her emerald eyes as she let her thoughts wander to Regan. Soon he would know everything. What would he do? What could he do? Perhaps he would be satisfied to find his son and forget about her. Would he be able to forget the Sea Siren or his wife? Was she in his blood as he was in hers? It didn’t matter now, nothing mattered except getting back to Spain. Back to her homeland where she could lick her wounds in private and give birth to Regan’s child. She would go into seclusion on her country estate to give birth, and there she would remain. She thanked God for the financial security which would enable her to provide for their child. Their child, hers and Regan’s.

  The tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she let her mind dwell on Regan and the child she carried within her. Was this then to be the punishment doled out to her by the God she had renounced so long ago? She would live out her life in solitude with every luxury money could buy, but her life would have no love, no meaning, save that of the child, Regan’s child. A lonely succession of days floated before. her eyes, each one longer than the next. Would she be able to survive without the love she carried in her heart for the tall, blond Dutchman?

  Swaying dizzily, she grasped the rigging for support as Jacobus quietly came aboard.

  “Food, Jacobus, I didn’t think of food. It’s to be a long journey and I forgot.”

  “Aye, Capitana, we brought the provisions. Go below and we’ll get the ship underway. Jan can take the wheel. Do you need help?”

  “I’m afraid I do, Jacobus,” she said, extending her hand. How strange, she mused to herself as the old man led her to her quarters, never before did I ask for or accept help. “Raise the Spanish flag, Jacobus. I’m going home!”

  “Aye, Capitana, the Spanish flag it is.”

  “It would be well if you secure this ship before we set sail. There’ll be a storm before the new day is out.”

  “And fierce it will be. I noticed the other day that the waters are warmer than usual.”

  “I fear what it means, old man.”

  “There is no need to be afraid, Capitana, I’ve ridden these seas all my life and those volcanos haven’t spit out yet.”

  “There’s always the first time, Jacobus. Never before have you noticed the water so warm either, am I right? And the mist, even in my sickened condition, I can tell that thick yellow fog is unnatural.

  “Jacobus,” she said, clutching his thin, sinewy wrist, “first we sail into Batavia. I made a promise to post notice that when I’ve caught The Hook I’m retiring from the sea. I wasn’t serious at the time I made it, but I am now. To Batavia first, Jacobus. Speaking of posting, who posted the bounty on my head?”

  “Captain van der Rhys. It is said that he borrowed heavily from all of the merchants and cleaned out his bank account. He said he would have you one way or the other.”

  “What’s to happen to me if I’m caught?”

  “He said you would belong to him and he would decide then what was to be done with you.”

  A vision of herself slit from throat to navel floated before her eyes as she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

  Chaezar rode home in a fury. How did Regan find out? The Hook, of course, but would he have been fool enough to tell everything? Yes, the man was a coward. How fortunate that Gretchen had left the island for a visit. If he were to blame the whole of it on the German woman, would Regan believe it? Not likely, he was no fool.

  There was only one means of escape, and although it was premature, he’d have to take it. The African Gold Coast, to the beginnings of his latest enterprise. A nutmeg plantation that would undercut the East Indian trade, built from the fertile nuts he had been smuggling out for the past four years. His first crop would be in soon and, although small, it would rock the trade foundations of the Dutch East India Company. The house he had built was there waiting for him, and if he ever hoped to live in it he must get away from Regan, now.

  Her face grim and purposeful, Frau Holtz stood on the edge of the wharf shielding her eyes from the smoky cinders falling about her. She squinted through half-closed lids and willed a sail, Regan’s sail, to appear on the horizon. Where was he? It was time she opened his eyes, told him that his wife was actually the infamous Sea Siren, and was carrying his child. The tall, imposing woman blanched when she thought of the expression on his face when she told him that his remarkable wife had also left him. A look of utter hopelessness crossed her face as the vague rumblings beneath her feet increased in tempo. She always feared the Sisters of Fire erupting—the whole island would burn to a crisp and her with it.

  Frantically, she paced the wharf, her arms crossed over her heavy breasts. She couldn’t just stand waiting here forever. She had to do something. The falling cinders were already clouding the air, making visibility almost nil. Clenching her strong wide teeth in an agony of indecision, she marched purposefully toward the offices of the Dutch East India Company.

  Panic had taken hold. Evacuation of the island was all that mattered. As fast as a ship left the harbor another was filled to capacity, making way to the open sea with its cargo of terror-stricken humanity. Men, women, and children, their belongings in sacks, raced to the wharf to board the waiting ships. Others looked skyward, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Would the Sisters erupt? Brushing impatiently at a stray cinder that singed her bare arm, Frau Holtz opened the door of the offices and stepped inside. Chaos reigned. Captains and merchants were busily stuffing papers and ledgers into satchels and gathering their personal belongings. She listened to the babble of high-pitched hysteria with alarm.

  “I tell you, it’s only a matter of hours,” Captain Dykstra said harshly. “There’s no way we can escape this time. The entire island has to be evacuated. The question is, can we do it in time?”

  “Women and children first,” Captain Kloss said quietly. “Has anyone heard from Regan?”

  “I wish to know if Mynheer van der Rhys has made port,” Frau Holtz interrupted anxiously. “I’m Frau Holtz, his housekeeper, and have messages of grave importance to deliver to him personally.”

  “No one’s seen or heard from Regan. Not since yesterday, when he took the boy to the inner islands. I happen to know he expected to make his trip a short one. He should be returning some time today. God, I wish he were here now with his gift for organization. It would be best for you, dear woman, if you went to the wharf and got aboard a ship. When I see Regan I’ll tell him that you wish to see him. Go now, while there’s still time!”

  “Ja, I go,” Frau Holtz said wearily. So, these men also knew what she knew in her heart. The Sisters would erupt and place everyone on Java in danger. She had tried, what more could she do?

  Sirena gave the order to weigh anchor. Jacobus looked at her questioningly. “Are you sure, Capitana, that you know what you’re about to do? The Sea Siren won’t find a welcome in Batavia.”

  “I know that, Jacobus; however, a promise is a promise. I said I’d post a notice in the offices of the Dutch East India Company when I settled matters with The Hook. I must keep my word. That will end the matter once and for all.”

  “The cinders and the ashes are falling more heavily. You’d best make quick work of your mission. We must be safely out to sea when the Sisters spew their hot rocks and lava. Pray God there isn’t a tidal wave, for then we’re all dead!”

  Sirena, her mind elsewhere, barely heard the warning Jacobus issued. Nimbly, she jumped from the ship and almost collided with Frau Holtz. The housekeeper was standing on the wharf, shielding her eyes with her strong hands. What in the name of God was the woman doing here in Port Batavia? Sidestepping her, Sirena raced to the offices of the Dutch East India Company and rushed inside. Bedlam greeted her. Her eyes raked the wall for some sort of board to hang her notice on, when she spied a slab of cork with a reward notice posted for her. She blanched slightly at the grim words of Regan’s: Dead or Alive. Quickly, she posted her own notice. Swiveling around the noisy room, she noticed two sea captains staring at her, their hands full of papers. Quickly, she placed her hand on the hilt of the cutlass that hung at her side and spoke quietly: “I came here to post my notice. I see that the time is not quite appropriate; however, it was a promise I made and one I felt honor-bound to keep. The Sea Siren is now part of the past.” Both captains looked at her with strange expressions on their ruddy, weather-beaten faces. Was it safe to turn her back on them? Undecided, she backed up, her hand sure on her cutlass. No man made a move to follow her, or comment on her statement. So be it.

  Outside, she saw women dragging small children by the hand as they wailed piteously and brushed at the hot ash dripping from the skies. Absently, she brushed ash from her bare arms. As quickly as she brushed it away, it covered her again, sometimes leaving small scorches on her soft flesh. Jacobus was right, they had to get to seal She must think of the child, Regan’s child! She had to protect the unborn babel

  She raced to the wharf unmindful of the people who stopped to stare at her near-nakedness, the cutlass swinging at her side. As she neared the wharf she noticed Frau Holtz turn in her direction. Should she leave the woman here? If she did, what would become of her?

  “Frau Holtz, you must come with me. The island is no longer safe. Are you leaving on another ship? Are you waiting for someone?”

  “I … I must find Mynheer van der Rhys. I must tell …”

  “There’s no time for that now. Come with me! Regan is at sea. Come, there isn’t much time.” Forcefully, she tried to grasp the housekeeper’s arm, only to have her jerk it away.

  “Jan,” Sirena called, “come here! Bring some of the men, hurry, there’s no time to lose.” Soon her men stood on the dock next to her.

  “What is it, Capitana, what can we do?”

  “Get this woman aboard ship, even if you have to carry her. She won’t be safe here. Use force if necessary.”

  “Aye, Capitana,” Jan muttered as he grasped one arm and Willem the other. The two seamen struggled with the tall, heavy woman, eventually getting her to the plank leading to the ship. Sharp curses rang in the air as they grappled with the housekeeper. To her dismay, Frau Holtz found that she was no match for the burly seamen and, in the end, acquiesced.

  “Capitana, perhaps we should offer the services of the Sea Siren to help evacuate the island. What do you think?”

  “What do I think, Jacobus? I think the smell of blood is still too strong on our decks for these good people to want to set foot on our ship,” she said mournfully. “I’ll go aboard. You can ask if anyone wishes to sail with us. We’ll take as many as wish to go. Try!”

  “Aye, Capitana.”

  Nimbly, Sirena leaped aboard the frigate and looked around her. Already there was a dull-gray carpet of ash aboard the decks of the frigate. Small mounds smoldered and smelled of sulphur.

  Shielding her eyes from the cinders, she watched for Jacobus’s return. She was not surprised to see him climb the plank alone.

  “They say this is a ship of death and they don’t wish to be saved by a devil woman. In all honesty it was the men who said it, Capitana. The women and children were willing to climb aboard, but the men said there were two galleons waiting for them.”

  “It’s just as well,” Sirena said glumly as she kicked at a mound of smoldering ash. “Hoist the anchor and let’s leave this godforsaken island before she burns to a cinder.”

  “Capitana,” Jacobus asked hesitantly, “is the bounty notice still hanging in the offices?”

  Sirena laughed mirthfully. “It lays in shreds on the floor amidst the smoldering ash.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Gretchen Lindenreich looked around her empty rooms and swore viciously. They had all deserted her, every last stinking one of them. Slaves! Ingrates! Give them a home, food and honest work, and they turned on you for their thanks! Fear cloaked her perspiring body as she peered at the falling ash through her wide window. What did it mean? Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that this time would come to pass. Now, the damn volcano was finally going to spew forth all the venom it carried in its bowels.

  She had to pack and get out of here without any help. Damn Sudi, damn the houseboys, damn everyone to Hell! Trunks! Where were the trunks? Damn Sudi.

  Close to hysteria, she raked her fingers through her thick golden hair as she tried to recall where the trunks were stored. Behind the kitchen wall. Running to the kitchen, she slipped and fell. Cursing Sudi and the houseboys, she picked herself up and dragged the massive trunks into the middle of the floor. She bent down to open one and was revolted by a layer of mildew spotting the trunk’s lining. Frantically, she searched for a rag to wipe at the hateful black stains. Damn Sudi, she should have cleaned the trunks—all those beatings and still she didn’t learn. Damn her soul to Hell! She couldn’t put her expensive clothes into those moldy trunks. She rubbed at the offensive stains only to find that she could not remove the black spots.

  She found a large towel and laid it on the bottom of the largest trunk. It would have to do. When she arrived at her destination, wherever that might be, she’d remove the clothing and air out the trunk. That would be her first order of the day, to have her trunks cleaned and aired and some sweet-smelling cologne placed inside. It was a wonder vermin weren’t crawling inside. Damn that Sudi!

  Where was Regan? Would he come for her, knowing she was alone? And Chaezar, where was he? Busy saving his own neck without a thought of her. Damn his soul to Hell, too! If it weren’t for his slipshod maneuvering she’d now be married to Regan and he would be saving her precious gowns. And there wouldn’t be mildew in her trunks. She would never forgive him for the mildew. “Damn Chaezar! Damn Sudi!” she muttered as she pulled at her hair and tried to think what she should do next.

  Should she go to Regan’s house? If she arrived there with her trunks he couldn’t send her away, he would have to help her. Regan’s broad back would get her trunks to the wharf where he would load them on one of his ships. Yes, she would go to Regan’s. Stopping in midstride she negated the idea. What if he knew? Instead of carrying her precious trunks he’d kill her and stuff her into one of them. Oh, Regan, damn you! Why didn’t you marry me?

  She started pulling first one gown then another from the depths of her spacious wardrobe. What to take? Everything! She’d leave nothing behind. That damn Sudi would come back and steal everything in sight. Self-pity welled in Gretchen’s eyes as she sought each dress and carefully looked it over for the odious mildew. She wondered if the fungus in the trunk would creep up on the garment.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she fumbled with each item of her elaborate wardrobe. Frantically, she rubbed at each and every hemline and then carefully folded the gowns and laid them tenderly in the trunk at her feet. She needed help. She was tired and her head ached. Her eyes felt puffy and she must look a sight.

  Where in hell were all the men who had professed to love her when she lay in their arms? Where were they now when she needed help with this damnable mildew? Home with wives and families, that’s where they were. No one cared about her. Not one person on this whole godforsaken island cared about her. She was alone and she would have to manage all by herself. She’d show them all! Tears formed anew at this silent declaration and she brushed angrily at the salty streaks.

  She stretched her long neck trying to brush her heavy hair back off her face. The heat was suffocating. She didn’t ever remember it being this hot. God in Heaven, did it mean the Sisters were due to erupt? The smell of the smoldering shrubbery was creeping into the house, making it difficult to breathe. She had to hurry.

  Quickly, she raced to the kitchen and returned dragging the second largest trunk, then another trip for the third and last. This time she didn’t bother to try to wipe the mildew from the trunk’s lining, she just ripped the sheets from her bed and threw them into the trunks, hoping they would protect her gowns. Sweltering in the unbearable heat, her silk stockings curling and twisting about her slim legs like snakes, she cursed the abysmal heat and everything and anything that came to her mind as she continued her packing.

  The trunks were filled to overflowing and there were still gowns in the closet. What to do? Raging with the injustice of her plight, she draped a gown around her neck and tied another around her waist after carefully rubbing at a dark black spot. She would have to take extra care that the gown didn’t come loose and trail on the ground. Angrily, she stamped her feet and wiped at her brow.

  Jewels! She hadn’t packed her jewels! Stomping over to the small coffer, she grabbed brilliant stones and placed them in a drawstring reticule and carefully pulled the ties. She looped it around her neck, heedless of her appearance. The ribbons and pretties with which she loved to adorn herself—what of those? They weren’t packed either. Another drawstring purse was filled and then it too was looped around her neck. Wailing, she dragged the heaviest of the trunks outside to the cobblestone courtyard, where her fleeing staff had left a broken-down, flat-back wagon used for hauling food and sundries from town. Someone had hitched a broken-down old nag to the wagon, then abandoned it, preferring Gretchen’s spirited team of greys and her comfortable carriage which had a roof to act as protection against the falling cinders. Pushing and shoving the massive trunk, she cried to all the gods in the heavens to help her. Receiving no reply, she again pushed the trunk, only to have it lurch against a large boulder next to the wagon. How was she to get it to the wagon? Even a man would be hard pressed to lift it down.