that people were eager to share what they knew about the glamorous Silver Wench.
It was then she knew where she had seen eyes like his before. They were the eyes of a cat, a big dangerous cat.
She shrugged. "Many stories are told of me-some of them are even true." He was delighted with her answer. "But about the jaguar," he urged. "Tell me about that."
She remembered the jaguar all too well. The big cat had been brought in by sea, captured somewhere in the wilds of Mexico. And captured along with the galleon that was to bear her to Havana. Carolina had first seen the proud lustrous animal exhibited on the deck of a buccaneer sloop that had sailed into Port Royal harbor.
Seen it tied and helpless but roaring its defiance at its captors.
"A female," a young buccaneer had told her casually. "The Spaniards said they caught her trying to protect her cubs."
"What of the cubs?" she had asked. "Escaped," was the prompt reply. "They shot at them but the jungle was dense and they got away. But they were young and they probably died without their mother. She might have killed someone had not a lucky shot felled her."
The signs of that "lucky shot" were there,a long gash where the shot had grazed the skull, cut through a ribbon of fur and stunned the big cat, who had then been taken alive.
"So they ran off her cubs, left them to die, and took her away to sea?" Carolina's voice had been unsteady.
"Yes. Is she not a beauty? Our captain thinks to sell her to a man in the town who holds dog fights and cock fights. Think of the sport we will have when we put her in a walled enclosure and loose the dogs on her?"
Carolina had not wanted to think about that. She demanded to see the captain immediately. "How much," she had asked him peremptorily, "for the jaguar?"
Surprised, he had named the price he hoped to get in town. "But I might get more,"
he had said with a frown.
"I will pay you twice what you ask," she said. "In gold. If you will sail me up the Cobre where I will release her."
"Release her?" The captain was obviously taken aback.
"Yes." The word was spoken crisply. "Release her."
The captain of the sloop had gnawed at his lip and thought about that. Finally he had agreed.
Kells had been gone, on the other side of the island. It was Hawks, a darkly disapproving Hawks, who had accompanied Carolina on that journey up the Cobre.
She had made friends with the big cat on the way-after a fashion. At least she had sensed a kind of wild understanding, a kinship in those lamplike golden eyes.
And when at last she had chosen a place to release the jaguar, she had insisted on doing it herself. Hawks had nearly exploded at her insistence.
"She will tum on you, Hawks," Carolina had insisted. "But she will not turn on me. I am sure of it."
Hawks was considerably less sure. He had turned menacingly to the men about him, who had watched with fascination as Carolina, the knife in her hand flashing in the moonlight, had advanced upon the dangerous animal.
"If anyone so much as breathes, I'll have his ears for it," Hawks had growled. And to Carolina he had said, "At least have a pistol in your other hand-in case she does turn on you after all!"
"All right." Impatiently Carolina had taken the pistol Hawks proffered. About her the men watched tensely. Hands crept toward cutlasses-and pistols.
"Stand well back, Hawks," Carolina instructed. "I think we're near enough to shore that she can leap over. I don't know if she can swim."
There was sweat on Hawks's brow now. He was cursing silently-and praying, too, although he would never have admitted it.
The big cat had been positioned half over the ship's rail. Swiftly, with her razor-sharp knife, Carolina had slashed the bonds that held the animal, and leaped back.
But she need not have worried. The jaguar had no thought for those on the sloop. In a single fluid bound the big cat gained the shore, disappearing into the dark wall of green jungle, black and silver in the moonlight, that
It was then she knew where she had seen eyes like his before. They were the eyes of a cat, a big dangerous cat.
She shrugged. "Many stories are told of me-some of them are even true." He was delighted with her answer. "But about the jaguar," he urged. "Tell me about that."
She remembered the jaguar all too well. The big cat had been brought in by sea, captured somewhere in the wilds of Mexico. And captured along with the galleon that was to bear her to Havana. Carolina had first seen the proud lustrous animal exhibited on the deck of a buccaneer sloop that had sailed into Port Royal harbor.
Seen it tied and helpless but roaring its defiance at its captors.
"A female," a young buccaneer had told her casually. "The Spaniards said they caught her trying to protect her cubs."
"What of the cubs?" she had asked. "Escaped," was the prompt reply. "They shot at them but the jungle was dense and they got away. But they were young and they probably died without their mother. She might have killed someone had not a lucky shot felled her."
The signs of that "lucky shot" were there,a long gash where the shot had grazed the skull, cut through a ribbon of fur and stunned the big cat, who had then been taken alive.
"So they ran off her cubs, left them to die, and took her away to sea?" Carolina's voice had been unsteady.
"Yes. Is she not a beauty? Our captain thinks to sell her to a man in the town who holds dog fights and cock fights. Think of the sport we will have when we put her in a walled enclosure and loose the dogs on her?"
Carolina had not wanted to think about that. She demanded to see the captain immediately. "How much," she had asked him peremptorily, "for the jaguar?"
Surprised, he had named the price he hoped to get in town. "But I might get more,"
he had said with a frown.
"I will pay you twice what you ask," she said. "In gold. If you will sail me up the Cobre where I will release her."
"Release her?" The captain was obviously taken aback.
"Yes." The word was spoken crisply. "Release her."
The captain of the sloop had gnawed at his lip and thought about that. Finally he had agreed.
Kells had been gone, on the other side of the island. It was Hawks, a darkly disapproving Hawks, who had accompanied Carolina on that journey up the Cobre.
She had made friends with the big cat on the way-after a fashion. At least she had sensed a kind of wild understanding, a kinship in those lamplike golden eyes.
And when at last she had chosen a place to release the jaguar, she had insisted on doing it herself. Hawks had nearly exploded at her insistence.
"She will tum on you, Hawks," Carolina had insisted. "But she will not turn on me. I am sure of it."
Hawks was considerably less sure. He had turned menacingly to the men about him, who had watched with fascination as Carolina, the knife in her hand flashing in the moonlight, had advanced upon the dangerous animal.
"If anyone so much as breathes, I'll have his ears for it," Hawks had growled. And to Carolina he had said, "At least have a pistol in your other hand-in case she does turn on you after all!"
"All right." Impatiently Carolina had taken the pistol Hawks proffered. About her the men watched tensely. Hands crept toward cutlasses-and pistols.
"Stand well back, Hawks," Carolina instructed. "I think we're near enough to shore that she can leap over. I don't know if she can swim."
There was sweat on Hawks's brow now. He was cursing silently-and praying, too, although he would never have admitted it.
The big cat had been positioned half over the ship's rail. Swiftly, with her razor-sharp knife, Carolina had slashed the bonds that held the animal, and leaped back.
But she need not have worried. The jaguar had no thought for those on the sloop. In a single fluid bound the big cat gained the shore, disappearing into the dark wall of green jungle, black and silver in the moonlight, that
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