“That is spectacular, Sterling. I love that story. I have always wanted a spyglass. Do you have one?” She inquired with a jolly smile.
“Of course I do. I prefer to keep a spyglass and a compass with me at all times.” I answered as I pulled a silky cloth out of me duffle and unwrapped me prize possessions.
I showed her the spyglass, as well as the compass and told her all about them. As she admired the pieces I informed her, “Thar be plenty of other tools but I don’t need to be draggin’ them around. Plus, I never know what tools any certain ship will ‘ave, and that be why Kinley taught me the basics by eye and how to get the most out of the simplest pieces. So I can get where I need to be getting no matter what I ‘ave or don’t. I can even dead reckon a course if’n I need to.”
She looked confused so I explained. “That means I can find me way across the sea without a map. See, I been studying maps for so long that I ‘ave a good grasp on the world around me with or without one. When I was young, Captain Bentley and Kinley had captured a Spanish Waggoner, that be a book of intricate shoreline maps and directions. Them bloody Spanish would rather throw those books into Davy Jones’ Locker before they let them fall into the hands of a buccaneer, so once Kinley got ahold of that book, he handled it as the most precious treasure he ever found. He would spend long hours showing me how to study the maps, and we would compare the shores as we neared them. I would draw the shorelines as we studied and he taught me how to mark the measurements and chart the routes along the way.
“So to dead reckon, ye figure yer position compared by speed, time, and course from the last position while keeping a diligent watch on the compass, the winds, and currents. Ye ‘ave to have a strong grasp on the elements and even though I do, thar be plenty of room for error. It be a rare and useful skill that has saved me life more than once. See, no one can steal a map that be charted in yer mind.”
“What an impressive talent.” She looked so excited. “Where are your father and Kinley now?”
“Kinley died shortly after I found this place and Captain Bentley was stabbed and died in a battle near Panama years ago. I remember them and what they taught me every day. Especially Kinley. It be his lessons that gave me better ranking amongst me crew, and made it so I don’t ‘ave to swab decks anymore.”
After I laughed ‘bout the truth in my statement, I swooped her up in me arms and acted like I was gonna throw her in the water. “Let’s go for a swim.”
She squealed and laughed as she held onto me neck, but within her amusement she shrieked, “I can’t swim.”
Of course she couldn’t swim. I set her down, and after she straightened her nightgown she picked up a fallen tree branch, wielded it like a sword, and challenged, “You should teach me to fight like a buccaneer, so I can be tough like you.”
I picked up a branch of me own and as we crossed blades I informed her, “Ye know, thar be a few lady pirates out thar. Ye fancy to be one of them?”
She circled around me with her stick. “Oh yes. I always liked stories about Charlotte De Berry. Perhaps I will stow away like she did. Lead a mutiny, take charge of the crew, and plunder me some Spanish gold.”
I parried her thrust and teased, “But ye ‘ave to be strong and fearless.” I then let her force my stick out of the way and when she held the tip to my chest, she raise a wicked eyebrow and looked like a saucy war goddess as she asserted, “Don’t forget fierce and relentless.”
I smiled. “Aye, ye becoming even more enticing to me, Charlotte.”
I taught her to keep her footing, angle the blade, and shield her vitals, and she seemed as thrilled by the lesson as I was thrilled with teaching her. After fighting for a while, we were both short of breath and sat on the flat rock to cool down.
I winked at her as I complimented, “Not bad for yer first time, matey.” Then I concluded, “The most important thing to remember is to fight with yer mind. Thar be many strong, bloodthirsty men across those seas, but a great deal of them are merely skilled with brute. Ye got to be like King David out thar in battle. He was young and his family doubted him, but it was only a slingshot he killed Goliath with. It is not ‘bout size but mind.”
Charlotte told me she was pleased by me knowledge of the Holy Bible. I was sure she must ‘ave thought I was just another lawless savage so I clarified, “I know me way around the Good Book, ‘bout well as I know the seas. Me father’s clergyman, Jeremiah, taught me how to read, and I spent as much time studying the words of the Bible as I did working on me maps.”
She looked charmed by me answer and poked at the hilt of me cutlass. “You also seem to be well skilled with your sword. Have you been in many battles?”
I downsized my brutalities by simply answering, “Quite a few.”
Then that wild curiosity that gleamed in her eyes brightened as she asked, “Do you have any scars?”
I lifted the side of me coat and pulled me shirt out from under me waistcoat and belts to show her me worst one. Thar was enough moonlight for her to see the long welted wound that slashed across me left side and curved up me back. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her awkward expression. She looked as intrigued by me wound as she looked abashed by my brazen display of skin.
I covered meself back up so she could relax and told her how I acquired it. “Happened during a fight in Panama, and of course it was a damn Spanish blade that ripped me open. It ‘appened shortly after I turned seventeen.”
Her face lowered as she shyly inquired, “In Panama? You said your father died there. Did you get that scar on the same day?”
I never fancied to speak of the details, so I quickly confirmed that it was indeed the same day, then changed the subject. “I got plenty more scars with plenty more stories. Do ye ‘ave any?”
She looked at her perfect white arms and giggled, “Not really. My life has been so boring compared to yours. How have you survived all these wild adventures?”
“Keepin’ me weapons clean, me muscles hard, and me wit keen. I also be particular on the crews I’ll sail with. I’d like to say I sail for freedom, but it still comes by the cost of blood. Though I do ‘ave me limits, I’m not quite sure if ye could call them morals, because when it comes a means to survive, I will fight, plunder, and commandeer as necessary. A matey needs his pieces of eight to enjoy a mug of ale and that warm meal ye know I fancy. Savvy?”
I cocked an eyebrow and smiled while I anticipated her reaction to me blatant admittance of piracy.
Her own delicate eyebrow lifted slyly and she suggestively smiled back at me. Holy shipwreck! What kind of woman did I ‘ave on me hands here?
I wanted to kiss her. I wasn’t sure if I would scare her like I did last night, or if’n she would like it the way she liked me pirate stories. She riddled me soul like no woman ever had, and I had no idea which side of her duality I should aim to please.
Before I had a chance to decide on me impulse, I heard a ruffle in the bushes up the trail. I demanded her to silence with my eyes and saw the fear in hers as we listened to the group of men who were coming down the trail. With a slow but mighty force I pushed her down to hide between the flat rock and a shrub, and evinced me cutlass while I waited to see who was coming.
As the voices came closer, me tension released. I started to chuckle and Charlotte impatiently whispered, “Why in the world are you laughing?”
“It’s me hearties. I wonder what the hell they be doing up here.”
She let out a sigh of relief and I saw her giggling too as she listened to them slur and insult each other.
“Ye land lubbin bilge rats wouldn’t know the way to shore if’n I beat it outta ye.”
“Just wait ‘til me rum’s gone. Ye’ll be havin’ this empty bottle against yer empty head.”
The laughin’ drunks might ‘ave been me mates, but I knew I could get shot if I startled them, so I decided to make a game of it. From the corner we hid in, I took me hat off and covered me mouth with it to muffle me voice, and called for Faron Flynn with a gh
ostly bellow.
I struggled to silence me laughter when I heard the stumbling men shriek like little lassies and hide themselves in the trees. Faron sounded to be burned raw through as he hollered back, and once I knew I had him cornered at a safe distance I told him who I was.
As I helped Charlotte up, I told her ‘bout Faron Flynn. “Flynn’s big as an ox and strong minded as a burley ol’ sea captain. Hell, he acts like he be in command most of the time, but he sure gets shook up ‘bout his superstitions.”
As she wiped the dirt off of her dress she chuckled, “That was terribly mean of you to spook your friend, but certainly amusing.”
“Friend? Ye know, now that ye mention it, I’d say that Faron Flynn be one of the few people in this world who I’d actually consider a friend.”
My mates met us at the widest point of the path near the water, and Faron shoved at me with an animated flare as he cursed, “Ye blimey rotten cannon fodder. I should shoot ye in the gut for spooking me that way.”
As we greeted each other, I noticed Charlotte had hid herself behind me back. Though she seemed to fancy me, I could tell that being surrounded by five men like me wasn’t quite as appealing. She suddenly seemed so small and dainty in comparison to the tall and foul, weapon loaded buccaneers.
Faron was an Irishman with dark hair and eyes. He was almost as tall as me but he was bulkier. He wore a tricorn hat, and his black and gold baroque coat was unbuttoned. In all the years I had known him, I had but once seen him wear a shirt, so as always, the tattoos that lined his collar bones were showing under his leather baldric that he had holstered two pistols to.
Planky was tall and lean and as usual, he was so drunk he wasn’t saying much past a mumble. He wore a bandana on his head, his striped shirt was torn, and his breeches were so tattered they seemed to be more like under drawers. And of course, the haggard old sea dog was barefooted.
Then thar was Marin the Marooner. We called him Marooner because he was a runaway slave. He was only sixteen years old, but the ridiculous piercings in his ears and the dark tattoos that went up his neck made him look as fearsome as an old voodoo chief.
While Charlotte awkwardly hid behind me, Pete, who was dressed like Planky but larger and sloppier, blustered, “Avast this wee beauty. Ye violatin’ her in these woods, ye dirty bloke?”
I assured them, “Ah, she be with me at her own will. Ye might wish ye could get one like this without draggin’ her by the hair, aye?”
They all slurred some vulgar compliments to applaud me luck, and I could only imagine the face Charlotte was makin’ while she hid behind me back. I put me arm around her shoulder and pulled her out to introduce her. “This here be Charlotte.” I shook her playfully to loosen her nerves. “Don’t worry lovely, they won’t bite nothin’ but a hard tack. And most ‘um don’t even ‘ave enough teeth in their ugly heads to do that.”
Knowing better than to tamper with a woman that I had under me arm, they behaved themselves enough and we carried on in conversation.
Faron started to tell me something, but he looked to be annoyed that Charlotte was thar to hear it. He stepped between us and nearly whispered to me, “Captain said if’n I saw ye, to tell ye we’ll be sailing out tomorrow at sunset, but after what ‘appened last night I ‘ardly think that be soon enough.”
Without regard to Charlotte’s presence, Pete laughed, “I heard that stunt ‘bout got Bentley chomped up by a clapper-clawed dog.”
I didn’t want Charlotte knowin’ what I did last night, and of course, Faron didn’t either. He shoved Pete by the shoulder and snarled, “Shut yer drunk mouth afore I chomp ye up meself. Ye know the kind of tales dead men tell.”
To change the subject I asked Faron, “Did Alden the Logger meet up with ye?”
“Aye. Told me ‘bout how he swabbed ye up with a deck of cards at The Rusty Anchor, not that I be surprised. I think me grandmother could beat ye at that game.”
We drank some more rum while we swashed around a few more insults, and soon enough, Planky passed out stiff as a board; landin’ face first in the dirt. I heard Charlotte gasp, but when she tried to reach out to help the fallen ol’ drunkard, I held her back and chuckled, “Don’t be worryin’ ‘bout him. That’s why we call him Planky. He rums himself into oblivion n’ hits the deck stiff as a plank. It be a common thing.”
We all laughed at the explanation just as we did every time we relived the scenario, and Marin the Marooner started poking Planky with the butt of his pistol. “Plus he be mean as a famished shark when he wakens.”
Pete held the empty bottle of rum upside down and stared up the neck. In a sullen tone of sarcastic despair he slurred, “That be our cue to move along mateys.”
Faron agreed, and though Charlotte was seeming to warm up to their ridiculous antics, I was glad to get them out of me way. We all said our farewells as they teamed up to get Planky off the ground. He grunted like a hog head down in a trough, and they all carried on in their drunken antics as they lugged him down the trail.
Charlotte seemed to ‘ave a million questions ‘bout their behaviors and allusions, but instead of answering, I tugged her back down the path we came in on. I found a large rock that overlooked the shore and pulled her up thar with me to look at the view. Everything glistened in the moonlight and I liked the way she tucked into me side while we admired the beauty. She told me she felt like she was living a dream.
I pulled her in closer to me side and kept me eyes on the horizon as I spoke. “Ye feel that horizon callin’? It tugs at me heart like the moon pulls the tide. The ocean rolls and wakes and never stays still; just like the soul of a sailor.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. I wrapped me arms around her and kissed her. At first her body was tense, but as I filled her mouth with my tongue I felt her posture begin to loosen. I moved me hands up and down her back to warm her up to the idea of lovin’ on me, and the more I surrounded her the more she welcomed me. She let her hands venture ‘bout me upper arms, and the way she felt around the shape of me muscles made me want more of her; so I pulled away.
At first, I was surprised I found the will power to stop, but once I opened me eyes and saw hers glistening back at me in the moonlight I realized why I did. It was because she confused me. She lit something more than a fire of lust in me groin. The burn was definitely sensual, but different from the animal instinct that allured me to the tavern wenches. Whatever the hell it was, I knew I liked it, yet I had no idea what to do ‘bout it.
Then that spell-casting vixen laid her head against me chest and sighed, “I believe I have fallen in love with you, Sterling Bentley.”
The moon was sinking lower, and much as I didn’t want to, I knew I had to be taking her home. I led her down the path, and after a while of walking next to the waves that glimmered in the moonlight, Charlotte snuggled her face into me arm and mentioned how she was getting tired. I teased her as I picked her up to carry her, and as she cuddled against me chest, she yawned, “I could sleep in your arms.”
“I could let ye,” I simply responded, but me filthy mind started wandering over all the other things I’d like to let her do.
Then she kissed me neck. The light and simple gesture seemed to fire a terribly carnal response in me blood. I growled like the animal she brought to life in my body, and laid her down in the gleaming sand. I pressed me weight over her, and with the sound of the waves crashing and the background, I ravished her with a long passionate kiss.
I held me hand on her face and slowly moved down her neck with open mouth kisses. Damn, she smelled so good and tasted so sweet, I wanted to eat her up. She pulled me closer, me blood burned hotter and I wanted nothing more than to be pressed as close as I could be. I moved me arm behind her neck to dive deeper into her kiss and grabbed onto her thigh, thinkin’ I wanted to pull her leg up over me shoulder. She exhaled a timid sigh and the silky hum of her sound consumed me with the desire to ravish her completely.
I put me fist in the sand next to her shoulder, inte
nding to shove me hips between her legs as I lifted above her. Yet, once I opened me eyes to look at her, my ravenous intentions were unexpectedly detoured. Her white dress and pretty face left her looking like an angel illuminated by the halo of moonlight shining around her. She was worth so much more than a wild night in the sand, and I couldn’t taint her future with me dirty buccaneer blood.
As I struggled to resist my surge of desire, I noticed her chest was lifting with the heavy breaths of her anticipation, and her eyes were wide with what looked to be worry. The uncertainty of her innocence somehow extinguished me animal urges, and I forced meself to retract from her forbidden allure by rolling over onto me back.
I stretched me arms out at my sides as I exhaled, “What ye be doin’ to me, Charlotte?”
My chest rose and fell from shortness of breath as she sat up in the sand trying to catch her own. Me hat had fallen off, and I saw her looking at my hair before she pulled herself next to me and played with me ponytail. Feeling her hands run through me hair helped to cool me smoldering nerves, and as me breathing slowed, I lifted one side of me lip, looked at her with a playful ferocity and growled. She laughed and told me I was silly before she cuddled up next to me in the sand.
The sound of thunder rolled in the distance and we watched the heavy clouds make their way towards the moon. Me tension slowly subsided, and I became so relaxed with her layin’ on me chest that I could ‘ave drifted off to sleep…
Then I realized she was crying. Holy shipwreck. She was sobbing all over me coat. Me mellow nerves tautened with an irritating burst of panic. “What’s the matter with ye?”
Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) Page 4