Sea of Ruin

by Pam Godwin

  But instead, we uncovered a shallow grave lined with dozens of identical sacks of the same size and shape. Sacks of seed? Bullets? Or something much greater?

  No one moved as I slid into the hole and tore open one of the bags.

  “Gold doubloons.” My lungs crashed together, my heart laughing. I scrambled to the next sack. “Pieces of eight.”

  Priest and Ashley jumped in, helping me open bag after bag. They were all filled with coins, gems, and pearls. The value was unfathomable.

  On a squeal of laughter, I turned to Priest, threw myself into his arms, and crashed our mouths together.

  My father hadn’t just left me enough treasure to make every man aboard Jade wealthy beyond retirement. He’d gone through the painstaking task of converting his spoils into a currency that was ideal for easy transport, dividing amongst the crew, and using as trade in exchange for property and goods. He’d thought of everything.

  My boisterous pack of sea tars clamored over the coins, howling with glee and singing about the land they would buy in the colonies and all the rum they would pour down their gullets.

  Priest kissed me enthusiastically, saturating my lips with the salty taste of sweat and sea. “Your father was a genius.”

  “He was so selfless and brave, and you would’ve adored him.”

  “Bennett, come here.” Ashley stood amid the treasure, holding a shallow box the length of his arm. “This was beneath the sacks.”

  My pulse hammered as I slipped out of Priest’s arms and made my way there.

  “We’ve gone through everything.” Ashley handed me the wooden object, his smile teeming with anticipation. “There’s only one of these.”

  I set down the box, my hands trembling as I opened the lid. It appeared reasonably airtight, safe from the elements. From within, I removed a wide, flat package wrapped in leather. The edges felt like an engraved frame.

  It took forever to unwrap it, my fingers tearing through layers of protective cloth and tough hides. At last, I cleared the coverings and found myself staring down at two familiar faces.

  “God confound me body and soul.” I fell to my knees, my hand shaking too violently to touch the canvas. “I don’t believe it.”

  The oil portrait blurred behind a sheen of searing tears. Priest and Ashley held the painting as I wiped my face and chased the moisture from my eyes. Then I soaked in the image with my heart in my throat.

  A young Lady Abigail Leighton perched upon a bench that was entirely too elaborate for its woodland surroundings. Edric Sharp leaned against a tree at her side, wearing a flowing shirt of silk, knee-high jackboots, and a cutlass that glinted in the sun. At his feet lay a sleeping hound dog.

  “I’m wearing those boots.” Priest crouched beside me, his hand stroking my hair.

  I choked, nodded, tears overspilling.

  My mother’s gown possessed the lavender hues and delicate ruffles she favored. Where she was painted pale and lithe, my father bore the freckled complexion and muscled frame of a seafaring Irishman. He looked so young. So in love.

  His face tilted downward, smiling upon my mother as if utterly distracted by her, the painter’s presence forgotten. My mother’s pose on the bench was relaxed yet stately, her eyes pointed at her lap.

  “Look at that, Bennett.” Ashley hovered on my other side, his finger motioning at the spot I’d just discovered.

  My mother’s hands surrounded a small bump on her lap, the fabric of her gown stretching over the roundness beneath. No one would notice that detail in a passing glance, but it was there, declaring the year it was painted.

  “I don’t know how or why this was created,” I said. “But she’s pregnant with me, and I recognize those trees as the same kind that surround the estate in Charleston.”

  Grief was the reason my chest felt too tight. But joy had a hand in that, too. My father hadn’t just given me a memory that wouldn’t fade. He’d gifted me with a glimpse into something that had been kept from me my entire life. Not once had I ever seen my parents together. Until now.

  I wept. How could I not? The emotions I’d carried for so long had been waiting for this moment. The connection I had with my father through the compass reached its zenith. Loss and longing spread its wings, and I needed to let it out. Let it go.

  Priest reached for me, the lightest touch, and I was undone. My quiet sobs rose like fists. I leaned into him, and he was there, bending around me, drawn by his need to take care of me.

  Ashley stood a few feet away, directing the crew as they carried out the treasure. But his gaze stayed with me, loving me without words, without touch, seeking my eyes with a look that would readily give me anything, if I asked.

  Crying within view of my crew wasn’t ideal, but no one stared or whispered. They continued about their work in uncharacteristic silence. A sign of respect. They understood.

  With Ashley’s gaze reaching out to me and Priest’s breath upon my cheek, my tears faded as quickly as they’d surfaced. Sadness gave way to tranquility, for I had no regrets, no misgivings. For the first time in my life, I felt complete.

  I dusted myself off, packed up the precious painting, and followed my men home, to Jade and whatever adventure awaited us.

  One week later, I sat behind the desk in my cabin, talking with Ashley and Jobah. They bent over a spread of charts, plotting our course. Priest and Reynolds sat at the table, sprawled and relaxed, drinking more than their share of rum.

  We were headed south, back to the West Indies. Then what? We were trying to work that out.

  Ashley had been straightforward about his disapproval in pirating the king’s ships. Yes, there were other vessels worthy of marauding, but he raised some thoughtful questions. Every man on my crew was now rich beyond his means. Why plunder at all? If we didn’t raid, then what? Where would we go? What did we want?

  The answer to the last question was easy.

  “We want adventure.” I picked up a brass spyglass and absently spun it on the desk. “We need the prize.”

  “What prize?” Ashley crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Any prize. The harder the raid and greater the danger, the better the reward.”

  Reynolds shouted a huzzah from the table and hoisted his bottle of rum.

  “You want a challenge? Very well.” Ashley exchanged a look with Jobah.

  Then he presented a proposal that made my blood at once sizzle and chill.

  Priest and Reynolds straightened, their expressions as uncertain and piqued as my thoughts.

  What Ashley proposed would change our purpose, our business. But not our hearts. No, our hearts were already in this fight, and mine thundered to dive in.

  I peeked at Priest and caught the smile curving behind the rim of his rum glass.

  “All right.” I grinned. “Put it to the crew for a vote.”

  March 1722

  St. Christopher, Leeward Islands Colony

  St. Christopher. To anyone settling here, it was a dazzling island of beauty and opportunity. To anyone except the African slaves who were barbarously shipped in and forced to work in the sugar cane fields.

  Then there was me, the bastard daughter of noble blood, willing to lead a band of seafaring ruffians into a war against those more evil than I was.

  “Starboard batteries, target the mainsail!” My breaths cleaved as I jumped onto the gunwale and held the spyglass to my eye.

  Fifty feet away, iron guns protruded from the slave ship’s bows, belching smoke and hauling in for reloading.

  “Aim high and true, gunners!” My hand clenched around the glass, my heart pounding. “If you hit her belly, I shall seize you up by your pissers and dangle you from the yard-arm!”

  We were here for the precious cargo in her hold. If we lost those innocent lives, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

  A crack of cannon fire erupted from Jade’s starboard. The volley of shot hissed across the turbulent waves, and the slave ship’s mainsail erupted in flame.

 
Yes! The metallic scent of gunpowder burned the air. A few yards away, Priest caught my eye from behind the smoking bronze snout of a gun. He held a lit wick and flung me one of his roguish smiles, flirting with the rhythm of my heart. Viciously handsome man.

  I grinned into the choking smoke. “Jobah, bring her about! Hard to starboard! Keep her as tight as you can.”

  My helmsman grunted and strained against the tiller, driving all his strength into turning the arm.

  “D’Arcy and Saunders!” I spun, scanning the fray of whooping and hollering pirates as they flew to the sheets. “Haul your arses to the helm and help Jobah with the rudder. Lively now, lads! Throw your weight into it. We can’t board that ship from here!”

  I raced across the upper deck and leaped onto the larboard gunwale, shouting orders as Jade tacked hard and cut toward the enemy. The change in direction didn’t just bring us closer to board the enemy ship. It also swung our heaviest, double-shotted guns around to bear down on the slave traders.

  “Gun crews to larboard! Prepare those batteries!” I pivoted on the gunwale and sprinted aft.

  And stopped, caught by an iron fist around my ankle.

  Ashley stared up at me, both hands clamping down like shackles on my boot. Capable hands. Strong and manly. I loved the commanding way he touched me, the way he looked at me.

  The calculation behind those glowing blue eyes held my fate and that of every man on this ship.

  This had been his idea, after all.

  His proposal to besiege slave trade routes had been met with a unanimous roar of Aye’s from Jade’s crew. The men had been attached to this cause since the day we’d accidentally raided the ship that had enslaved Jobah.

  But we were just one crew. To fight an entire island and the vessels that surrounded it was an impossible undertaking.

  Until Ashley.

  With his wartime naval experience as a commodore, he knew how to wound the enemy without getting ourselves killed in the process. We wouldn’t be able to stop the importation of slaves, but with his depth of knowledge, we could save more than just a few.

  We’d spent the past six months preparing for this, gathering more guns, bigger guns, recruiting fierce sailors, scouting the courses of slave ships, and planning tactics and maneuvers against St. Christopher’s slave traders. I commanded the crew, but Ashley had led the entire effort.

  “Get down from there,” he ordered in his imperious tone and tightened his hold on my ankle. “My heart can’t take another second of your balancing act.”

  “But you’re so good at saving drowning women, my lord.” I hooked an elbow around a shroud, kicked my free leg beyond the gunwale, and leaned far out over the waves. “Will you put that fine-mannered mouth on mine and give me air?”

  “With pleasure. After you come down from there.”

  My blood purred, but a kiss would have to wait. Jade was finishing her sharp turn.

  “Ready about, Chops!” I jumped to the deck and sprinted toward the gun crew at the bow, pausing behind Priest. “Load those guns and run out!”

  On the lower gun decks, Chops roared back, “Gun crews at the ready!”

  Priest darted along the lethal armament on the upper deck. His shirtless back flexed and glistened with sweat as he heaved eighteen-pounders into long bronzed noses.

  The slave ship was directly on Jade’s larboard, neatly in the sights of our heaviest guns. But we were also in the range of theirs. Through the glass, I spied enemy gunners holding wicks soaked in saltpeter, the fuses glowing red hot. Others waited with wadding, shot, and powder, ready to reload once the guns were discharged.

  My stomach hardened as I filled my lungs with air and bellowed, “Fire!”

  Both ships fired at the same time. Shot from cannonades blackened the sky with smoke and tore through Jade’s forward sails.

  “We’re hit!” Reynolds screamed from somewhere behind me. “Damnation, Captain! We lost the fore topsail—”

  “Jobah!” My pulse slammed through my veins. “Put her a point more to larboard. Priest, lay a shot across her mizzenmast.”

  If the slave ship didn’t strike her colors by the time the smoke cleared, we would load up with chain shot and take out her rigging. The difficulty lay in not injuring the cargo hold or the enslaved men shackled within it. Had the ship been empty, we would have sunk her an hour ago.

  “May I make a suggestion?” The velvety steel voice caressed up my spine.

  I turned and stared up into glimmering blue eyes. “By all means, Lord Cutler.”

  “Maneuver into a windward position and hold the weather gage. If you approach aggressively with the wind, you’ll blind them with smoke as you take out the rigging.”

  He quickly explained the advantages and risks of a tactic he’d used in his battles against the Spanish.

  My mind reeled at the sheer perfection of it. “You have an exalted natural mental ability, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Pass along the details of the maneuver to Jobah, if you please. And remind me to properly thank you later. With my mouth. While on my knees.”

  “Gladly.” His gaze smoldered, dipping to the sharp rise of my breasts in the corset.

  We pivoted, parting ways to prepare the crew for our attack.

  The fight passed swiftly and flawlessly. The slave ship was caught in the thick billowing draft of smoke, her canvas afire, and her gunners far too blinded to thwart Jade’s approach.

  By the time I hoisted our red flag with the intention to board, my crew was already flinging grappling hooks and storming onto the enemy ship. I threw myself into the throng, flanked by Priest and Ashley with our cutlasses raised.

  The slave traders resisted with swords, coming at us in a clash of steel. The deck shuddered beneath the stomp of boots, and the scent of battle encompassed me. Gunpowder, blood, sweat, death. It infused me with a sense of purpose.

  With every stab of my cutlass, I lay my heart naked. With every vile life that I took, I felt replete.

  I was a pirate captain, a rebel queen of the sea, fighting against the conformities of society and the oppressive laws of man.

  Slashing and thrusting, I hacked down every slave trader in my path. In my periphery, Priest and Ashley maintained a protective circle around me. I couldn’t fault them for that. I was protecting them, too.

  At last, the pained cries of our enemies fell quiet. My crew stood amid the dead bodies, chests heaving, and blades dripping with blood. I searched the corpses and found no familiar faces.

  “We’re all accounted for?” I bent at the waist, trying to catch my breath.

  “Aye, Captain.” Jobah wiped his dagger on his trousers.

  “To the hold, then! Get those men out of irons! Make haste!”

  As if I could magically sense them, my gaze shifted to the starboard bow. Priest and Ashley leaned against the gunwale, watching me. Both had traded their shirts for cuts and bruises. Muscles layered upon muscles, flawlessly honed, beneath soot and sweat.

  The battle looked good on them. More than good.

  I strolled toward them, picking my way through the bodies and dodging the low-burning fire of a fallen sail. Reaching Priest first, I dragged his whiskered face to mine and kissed him hungrily, needing his closeness. I needed them both, needed to taste their breaths, their proof of life, upon my tongue.

  My hand found Ashley’s beside me, and he drew us to him. With a grip in my hair and his other on Priest’s neck, he kissed us, one after the other, deeply, openly, without shame or quarter.

  I loved them more because they loved each other. What we had was rare. We were magic. No one understood it, and nothing could touch it. I would protect it with my life.

  At length, the kiss melted into peaceful smiles, and we turned toward the bow, facing the shoreline of St. Christopher in the distance.

  Sugar cane stretched inland beyond the sand, and amid those fields were enslaved men and women, working their bodies to the bone.

  �
�We’re going to free them.” Ashley pulled me close and kissed my head.

  “I believe you.”

  “The three of us together cannot be stopped.” A savage glint lit in Priest’s eyes. “We’re an exquisite force of destruction.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Love prevailed, not in the windless calm of life, but in the ruin.

  ———————————————

  Thank you so much for reading!

  Do you want to read how Priest and Bennett met?

  Check out their short story, KING OF LIBERTINES.

  It’s available in the AUSTRALIA anthology.

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  Each piece was written for this anthology to benefit firefighters and wildlife in Australia.

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