Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1)

by Taijeron, Cristi

  I snapped out of my reverie to notice James still lookin’ out towards the whales. Pointing towards them I noted, “Just look at that, matey. It be such sights that make this all worth it.” I ran me hand past the battle scars on me torso. “The pain goes away but the stories never do.”

  James nodded his head with understanding.

  Spending the evening charting the pace we lost in the storm, I figured we were a couple days away from The Barren Shore. Most of the storm damage had been at least mildly repaired, but not ‘aving enough canvas to patch the disheveled sails, we sailed slow and lazily through the night; making up for our day of rest. By sunrise, I considered that we had traveled a decent pace, and it seemed that things were falling back on course. We had requested to eat Sheldon, the sea turtle for supper, almost every night, but John the Cook insisted that we wait.

  As progress resumed, the disgruntled tone of the crew rolled back into the setting. It was easy enough for me to stay clear of Morley’s resentment, but Lenard Holt wasn’t so fortunate. Accused of “spreading dissension and breeding mutiny”, Lenard was to be keelhauled.

  I had heard him speaking harshly about the captain, and though I agreed with every word he spoke, he was too loose with his concern for me to get involved in his ploy. Regardless of my disagreements, my blood was struck with an icy chill as I watched Morley’s men tie a line from bow to stern. Lenard fought within their clutches like an animal of the wild, and as they tied him to the line they taunted him about the ride he’d be taking under the keel.

  Aside from the obvious dread of the situation, I truly enjoyed it when Lenard spit in Captain Morley’s face. Morley clubbed him over the head with his pistol and amidst the cheering and booing that filled the air, the captain signaled for his men to throw the hardly conscious man overboard.

  His body hit the water with a harrowing splash, and being tied to the line, the current quickly pulled him under the ship. If the underwater tow was not enough to drown him, the barnacles that clung to the bottom of the hull would be sharp enough to slice him to bits. Having seen plenty of keelhauling done in my day, and knowing that some men survived the punishment, I followed the rushing crowd abaft to watch the body emerge from the stern.

  Lenard Holt did not survive. Watching his limp body drag in the wake, I imagined what it might be like to face such a dreadful death.

  Captain Morley cut the line and while shaking his hands clean he humored, “That’ll be givin’ him something to revolt about.”

  His loyalists laughed and he continued, “Best part ‘bout a keelhauling is we don’t ‘ave to slow our pace. Marooning can be so bloody time consuming.”

  The crowd scattered off into their duties, but I stayed abaft to contemplate my uncertain future. While my mind reeled over the seemingly impossible options for escape, I hardly noticed that Flynn was standing next to me. He shook his head. “I liked Lenard, and I like that he tried to make a stand, but he went ‘bout it the wrong way. Little as I favor the captain, he was only enforcing the rules that we all signed up to follow. I know it takes strict action to run a sharp crew, but I think demanding respect by giving respect will be going a lot farther than enforcing power by inflicting fear.”

  There wasn’t much else to be said, considering the daunting threats, but I simply nodded to agree, and I knew that Faron Flynn would make a hell of a captain.

  X

  The morning light shone through a heavy fog. Though the blinding mist came with more calm than a storm, the loss of vision bared its own wrath of damage. There was no way to chart latitude in the haze, but I knew The Barren Shore was in a general southwest direction so I demanded the crewmen to veer for that course.

  The water appeared an eerie green hue through the mere foot of visibility, and the sound of the keel slicing the thick salty water created a hypnotic dulling of the senses. Growing antsy in the silence, and aggravated by the slow haul in the mist, the men started complaining like nattering old women.

  About an hour into the agonizing sail, the fog lightened a bit, and Marin the Marooner called from the crow’s nest. “Flag off the portside bow. English Merchant-Man.”

  Morley called for an invasion.

  What the blimey hell was he thinking? I was all for raiding against the filthy Spanish, but I didn’t like the idea of invading a merchant ship, especially an English one. Not only would it threaten our livelihood in Port Royal, but having once sailed as a Merchant-Man meself, I didn’t feel at all right about the notion.

  Aside from me attempt of moral management, I knew Wind of Glory was damaged from the storm, not to mention the way the wrath of Morley and the storm had left us down on men, leaving us feeble for the brazen feat. Yet when Captain Morley stood at the quarterdeck and hollered, “Thar be our new sails and rigging lines, boys!” the men cheered to take on the challenge, leaving me no room to contest the majority. Shakin’ me concerns and checking me weapons, I figured it would be nice to ‘ave some new sails.

  Veering towards the unsuspecting Merchant-Man, we easily came broadside in the fog. A cool wind made its way over the sea, wafting the clouds through the air in patches, lifting the Jolly Roger in the breeze. The Poseidon attempted to take flight, but we were too close. Throwing our grappling hooks over their gunnels, yanking their ship towards ours, we waved our swords and weapons, yelling like beasts in the wild. She had nowhere to run and made for a quick surrender.

  More often than not, the fear inflicted by the mere sight of the black flag and the threatening roar of the savage greeting made for the pirates’ greatest weapon; easily winning many prizes without the need of bloodshed. Captain Morley announced our intentions to the Poseidon’s captain, making it clear that we would be coming aboard to get what we needed while they waited silently.

  Morley’s men laid down a boarding plank, and as we walked across, the sound of our boots stomping on the deck sliced the thickness of tension that laid heavy in the air. Faron led a group of men to remove the sails so we could take them as our own, while Nortty took a group down below to plunder the hold. It was my job to pace the perimeter of surrendered men along with Pete and Farrell, while Morley leaned against a barrel eating an apple that he had taken from one of the men on deck.

  With me cutlass brandished, I made fierce eye contact to remind the surrendered to behave. I could see the men I faced making note of me green eyes, for the unique characteristic made for an obvious identification mark. If not by me name, I was otherwise known by the color of me eyes or the compass rose tattooed on me chest, both of which worked out well with the ladies.

  The surrendered crew stood still with their hands up and waited quietly while they were robbed. Though it was in their best interest to stand still, I could only imagine the humiliation they experienced having to do so. They were working class citizens that most likely had families at home to care for, and suddenly, these mangy buccaneers were boarding their ship, pillaging their goods, and would probably attempt to rape their women.

  Despising the brutal act of rape as I did, I hoped there were no women aboard the ship. Captain Bentley had been against it, and it simply disgusted me, so I never let it happen in my presence.

  Faron had the mainsail removed, and so far the raid appeared to be going smooth. As I continued to pace, one of the men caught me interest more than the others; looking more angry than afraid. He wasn’t much older than me, and as I stared him down, he easily returned the glare. Within his blue eyes, I saw his will to fight, and I think he wished that the men of his crew felt the same way. Through me threat, I respected his bravery and hoped that I wouldn’t ‘ave to kill him.

  Letting me expression do the talking, I never said much during invasions, but suddenly I noticed something that was worth speaking up about. One of the men was ‘bout me size, and he was wearing a coat that would fit me. Burgundy velvet with corded trim, the coat was long and stylish, but mainly I just wanted the sun off me back. Pointing me cutlass at the man, I brashly demanded, “You. Give me that coat
yer wearing.”

  Quickly removing his coat, he threw it to me, and after catching it with me free hand I smiled. “Thank ye, kind sir.”

  Pete laughed at me mannered gratitude. I really was thankful, but I laughed, too, considering the circumstances. Pete and Farrell kept their weapons aimed as I put the coat on, and it did fit just right, but to me surprise, the man with the brave blue eyes mocked, “I think you’re too puny to fit in that coat.”

  His voice was cold, sharp as icicles, slicing through the fear in the air. One of his crewmen gasped, “You’ll get us all killed, Bronson.”

  Honestly, I was humored by the comment but I couldn’t let him know that. Instead I dashed him a wicked glare, pointed the tip of me blade towards him, and snarled, “Maybe you can give me yers then.”

  Without batting an eye, he hissed, “You can kill me first.”

  I was equally impressed and infuriated by his outburst. As of yet Bronson was standing still but I couldn’t risk him raising a fury. Maybe his captain was too afraid to fight, but Bronson wasn’t. Like me, he would rather die fighting than to shiver in cowardice, and if’n he made another move, I’d grant him his wish.

  Before anything else was said or done, the sound of gunshots rang out from the hold. Members of me crew came running up the gangway, attempting to escape the armed Merchant-Men that were shooting after them. Apparently, there were women on the ship, and the men below aimed to protect them from the disgusting men on me crew. I was glad to know that the men were brave enough to fight for their women, and I would ‘ave been happy to clear the deck and sail on in our defeat.

  But it was too late.

  Just as I suspected, Bronson wasn’t going to let that happen. He was already charging to fight. Quickly throwing Farrell to the deck, Bronson yanked his cutlass from his hand and stabbed Farrell with his own sword! I was impressed by Bronson’s maneuver until he took Farrell’s bloody cutlass and made after me with it. His crew followed after his gesture, and the wall of unarmed men stormed the deck, blocking his strike against me. By now the fog had cleared and the sun beamed on the deck. It went from a quiet foggy takeover to a bloody battle in the beaming sun.

  Fighting off the raging merchants, Morley’s crew made quick to retreat. With gun blast firing between the ships, me crew struggled to keep the boarding plank steady for our escape. I had already stabbed two men and made it near the plank when Bronson finally met me with Farrell’s bloody cutlass. Almost a head shorter than me, his blond hair was wild as the fiery rage on his face, and the hate in his eyes might ‘ave been sharp as that sword that he was so good with. He was incredibly skilled, and his footwork was ridiculous! I had been fighting with me sword for years, and he put up one of the meanest fights I had ever faced.

  Using every ounce of me strength to hold off the force of his thrusts, I found meself sweating in the sunlight, with me hat slipping across my wet forehead threatening to cover me sight. Against Bronson’s swift maneuvers, I had not a chance to adjust me hat, and I hoped that no one came from behind me, for if I made the slightest move off course the angry man would be having me throat.

  Finally managing an upper hand with movements forcing him to back up against me blows, I was thrilled to be overpowering him, yet annoyed that the fight was leading me away from the plank. Most of me crew had retreated, and I knew they would leave me behind. Making feint against one of his swings, I caused him to lose his balance and quickly moved me cutlass up over his, hoping to beat his swift blade on its way back. The timing was perfect. The opportunity was open. I was sure it would be the final slice of our fight. Yet as me blade came near him, that wiry codpiece did a bloody backflip to clear the way!

  I had enough. While he swooshed off in his daring stunts, I cleared the deck to the Wind of Glory.

  Knowing they couldn’t follow with the sails we had removed, they blasted another round of shot as we left; pummeling our portside with damage. Aiming to catch our breath as we slowly sailed our mangled Wind of Glory away, it felt as if she was moping in our defeat.

  With me hands on me knees, breathing heavily, I huffed, “Well that didn’t go as planned.”

  James, who had a black eye and blood streaming down his sleeve, laughed, “At least you got a new coat. Bet it would be easier to buy one at the market, but hardly as thrilling.”

  I was surprised to hear that he enjoyed the tragic turn of events as much as I did. As I laughed at James, I saw Faron lookin’ back at the Poseidon in his spyglass. Jumping with excitement he announced the details of what he saw. “Holy shipwreck! Farrell’s alive. Blimey, Bentley, that blond beasty you fought with just yanked his belt off and hogtied Farrell with it.”

  Laughing harder than I already was, I imagined the completely believable sight. “That back flipping, belt wielding, Bronson, aye?”

  As Faron lowered his glass he exclaimed, “I’d like to take that matey on a boar hunt. He’d make fer a great huntin’ hound.”

  But Pete wasn’t laughing. “I’d like to sharp shoot that rat bastard Farrell from here. Ye know dead men can’t be tellin’ no tales.”

  Pete was right. That greasy malt-worm would be the first to report our crimes for the lowliest reward, but we were too far away and there was nothing we could do ‘bout it.

  Rounding the deck to assess the damage, Nortty announced that thar were two gaping holes in the portside of the ship, on top of our already tattered sails, caulkwalked planks in the hull, and torn lines. Four of our men died on the deck of the Poseidon, Farrell was left behind, and it turned out that two more men had died in the farewell gunshots. The only reward was the welcoming of three prisoners, a chest of schillings, and me new coat that I was too “puny” for.

  Captain Morley demanded that the bodies be thrown overboard and had not a concern for wrapping or chaining them. Rampaging like a hungry bear, he blasted a brash demand. “This tattered ship be like a ball and chain on me ankle. I ‘ave waited so long for this fen-sucked loot, and if’n I am gonna agonize any longer, it’ll be with swift sails and a solid hull. We be down many men and need to revamp our crew. Turn this ship towards Tortuga.”

  The crew cheered and shaped up for the detour. The mission had gone all wrong, and besides the necessity of repairing the ship, the nightlife of Tortuga sounded like a much needed intermission for the disastrous haul.

  Considering the condition of our ship, the most effective way to get the battered beast to Tortuga was to get the men to rowing. Wind of Glory was a galley style three mast, square-rigged ship, but also had a row of oars, called sweeps, below deck. If the winds were slow or the sails were tattered, the ship could be rowed to the next destination, and the prisoners were quickly commanded to grab the sweeps. James was the first to tell them how things should be done.

  With the majority of the crew sweating below on the sweeps, the old man Perkins, that had glared at me on that first day at sea, approached me at the helm. Weathered as a sun-bleached piece of cow hide, with a long gray beard that left him lookin’ to be one hundred years old, Perkins wore a rag around his head and an emerald waistcoat that was far more fanciful than anything else on his person. His arms were surprisingly well shaped for his age, but his tattoos were old and blurry. I was pleased to see a man of his age still faring the seas, figuring that I’d be doing the same all me life.

  I casually prepared to grab me cutlass as he came near, but he seemed to smile as he observed me up close. “Ye be the boy of Mason Bentley, aye?”

  I nodded my head to concur.

  “I sailed with your father years ago as Brethren of the Coast, and I’ll tell you he be still the best captain I’ve sailed under. Being how ye look just like him, I had me eye on ye to see if it be true. The way you handled the crew in that storm, the way you stand your ground in battle, I can see that you and he be one of a kind.”

  I never thought of meself to be like Captain Bentley, for he seemed so untouchable and reserved, but I certainly took the comparison as a compliment and wanted to know more
. “Did ye sail with him for long?”

  “Aye. We took more loot in that time than I’ve taken in me lifetime since. He was ‘bout the age of you now, and I was younger, but he treated me fair no matter. He ran that crew alike the way I reckon Neptune rules the seas.”

  I chuckled to meself ‘bout Perkins’ age. If he was younger than Captain Bentley, then he wasn’t quite as old as he looked. The sea had a way of aging a man before his time. Then I caught me mind wondering if he knew Hannah too, but I didn’t dare ask. I could tell that the man was headed somewhere with his speech so I let him reel.

  “I owe that man a favor that I never returned him, so I feel the need to tell ye something now. Something that could repay the debt.”

  The light of day was fading, and the misty sky began to fall with rain. I was glad to have a coat. Taking a deep breath I lifted me eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. “Captain Morley has it out for you, boy. He be planning on wiping out your favored half of the crew and slitting yer throat at the sight of the prize. Owing ye father like I do, I couldn’t keep that from ye. I figured the warning would repay the debt, but there be something more I could offer ye for a further bargain.”

  Smiling at the man, I laughed to meself ‘bout the wicked bargains buccaneers liked to entangle themselves in. I nodded at him to go on, and this time I was surprised by what I heard.

  “Captain thinks I be siding with him, so if’n you need an element of surprise, I could turn a group to your side. But I will only stretch that far in me loyalty for a higher payment on that prize we be after.”

  My mind lit up like I was eyeing a handful of aces.

  Perkins patted me on the shoulder. “Ye just call on ol’ Perk once ye make up yer mind, boy.”