Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1)

by Taijeron, Cristi

  Captain Langston grabbed me out of the heinous group I had once known as my crew, and with me clinging to his side for safety, he shot his gun into the air. Everyone silenced and the captain shouted, “What in the hell-pit of Hades’ own damnation is going on around here?”

  The room instantly stirred back up with rampant and opposing explanations, and amongst the roar I learned that Marin had reached for the gun and Sterling was the one who shot Paul. The pirates saved my life! Before I had a chance to thank anyone, Oliver shouted with all his frustrations erupting in his voice. “That is enough.”

  His tone was only slightly calmer as he looked at the doctor. “Doctor Reedy, what on earth has happened?”

  The doctor pointed to the prisoners and glared in disgust. “I would feel more comfortable discussing this in your chambers, Captain. I have had about enough of these unruly commentaries.”

  With a final attempt to tame the animosity, Captain Langston demanded, “There will be a meeting in my quarters the moment Mister Redding’s leg is mended.”

  The infuriated captain turned to face me and pointed up the stairs as if I was a child being sent to my room. I looked to Sterling before I left, and the anguish in his green eyes was more than I could bear. As the men pushed me towards the gangway, Sterling shouted, “I love you, Charlie.”

  Turning to face him, there was no way out of the herd that was stampeding me, but I fought against them with all the force I had, while screaming like a woman insane. “I love you, too, Sterling.”

  The sound of Sterling kicking and bashing on the bars echoed in the distance as I was forced out to the deck.

  The honorable Captain Oliver Langston, the spineless Doctor Davis Reedy, and the loathsome Paul Redding, surrounded me at the table in the captain’s quarters. My breath was still out of control, but I did my best to tame my fury while also struggling to manage my throbbing pain. My face was heavily bruised around my eye, and my lip was swollen and bleeding. My clothing was ripped and tattered around the various bruises and cuts on my arms and chest.

  Paul Redding had a swollen bloody gouge across his cheek from the pistol whip, his right eye was welted in the shape of my boot heel, and he kept it closed from the damaging gouge. His clothes were tattered, and he was dashed in scratch marks. His leg was wrapped from the repair of the shallow bullet wound, and with any luck, he’d be limping for days to come.

  Doctor Reedy had a whopping welt across his cheek bone where I thumped him with the gun.

  Captain Langston looked at me and snapped, “Good grief, Charlie Bentley. Pull yourself together.” He wafted a sloppy hand toward my mangled shirt front.

  Looking down I noticed the bare skin between my breasts was entirely exposed. Blushing as I pulled my shirt closed, I decided to tie the tattered ends of fabric together to keep it shut.

  Captain Langston had been fussing throughout the chaos, which was not his normal character, but before he carried on in speech, he took a deep breath and resumed his usual poise. “Now, I have already heard Charlie’s rendition of this despicable tale. I do believe it is time for you to tell me what happened, Paul.”

  Paul Redding looked at me, smirking in disgust before he began. “I ‘ad reason to believe Charlie was minglin’ with the prisoners, and as I rounded the gangway this evening, I saw her filthy whore hands all over that bloody navigator. I knew she was up to no good, but to see she was a blasted woman with a fancy for a prisoner was more than I could bear.”

  The captain shook his head in agreement before Paul added, “When I asked ‘er what she was doin’, she pointed her gun at me and threatened me life. As Doctor Reedy came in, she bashed me with the pistol, took the doctor’s gun, and smashed his face with it. While I attempted to defend meself, she passed the doctor’s gun to the prisoners and that rotten navigator shot me.”

  I had never been so infuriated. Slamming my hand on the table I barked, “You bloody rotten, hell-hearted liar.”

  Captain Langston glared me to silence and calmly asked Paul, “Now what is this that I hear about attempted rape?”

  Paul laughed as he lied, “She could only wish! Do ye ‘onestly think I’d pollute meself with the diseases of that pirate-tainted slut?”

  I shouted to defend my virtue, but the captain stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “Now that’s enough of that sort of talk, Paul Redding. And you will calm your outrage, Charlie Bentley.” Captain Langston continued to stand with both of his hands flat on the table. He lowered his voice and asked Doctor Reedy to express his account of the tale. The black-spotted doctor entirely sided with Paul Redding’s lie, finishing his exploit with the mention of me handing the gun to the navigator. Oliver exhaled, “You didn’t tell me that part of the story, Charlie.”

  I stood up and threw my arms out, nearly ripping my shirt open again as I shouted, “Because it is a filthy rotten lie! I was defending myself. I am telling the truth, Captain.”

  Paul glared at me as he snarled to Oliver. “How can one ever trust the words of a buccaneer-loving pirate?”

  Captain Langston lowered his head. Looking to be sincerely disappointed, he exhaled, “I trusted and respected you, Charlie, but you have been lying to me all along. In order to stay on the correct side of justice, I must imprison you for this act of piracy.”

  My heart stopped beating. My gut flooded with bile. Feeling as if I had been thrown into a dark corner, I started to back up against the wall. The world around me spiraled out of control and as the men surrounded me I fought at them with a hardly conscious fit of rage. There was no hope left in my pitiful world. Next thing I knew, I was handcuffed and tied to the mizzenmast. The sun was rising, and the mountains of Jamaica were in sight.

  PART V

  Sheer Piracy

  Chapter 13

  Shameful Arrangement

  As told by Charlotte Wetherby

  Captain Langston was kind enough to allow me this tattered piece of paper, a quill, and a nearly empty bottle of ink. I have lost track of the days so I am not sure of the date, but the morning sun is warm and the birds are flocking about. Looking up I can see the endless blue sky beaming above the rigging lines, and the canvas sails are full with the thick salty breeze. If my hands were not in cuffs and my body was not tied to a mast pole, it would be a rather beautiful day.

  The Wind of Glory is nearing the harbor of Port Royal and I feel as if I might throw up. The hard tack I ate last night was hardly substantial and the rum has left me nauseous. I am battered from the fight, exhausted by my fit, and dare I mention my anguish over the situation…I have come so far but accomplished so little! As I look over the damages of this shameful arrangement, I wonder what would have happened if I had just stayed home.

  As it is, Faron Flynn and the remnants of his crew will be sentenced to the gallows, and Sterling Bentley will be forced out to sea to face uncountable obstacles. Even though Captain Langston is the one that detained me, I know he was only doing his job and I do not detest him for it. In fact, I actually feel a bit of ease for Sterling’s sail knowing that he will be working with such a fair and just captain. None of this is good but at least we are all still alive. If I had stayed home they might not be, so perhaps it was worth the journey.

  Look at me; I have been so concerned over the fate of my friends that I have not thought of what will become of me. What does this imprisonment mean? How long will I be behind bars? I cannot fathom the thought of the gallows so I will leave that mention alone. Oh, good heavens what will my father think about my shameful return? I can’t help but hope that he will save me from this wretched fate that I have created, yet I know that I do not deserve his pardon. Oh, how I love that nervous old man, and what a wretch I am to have shamed his efforts in such a way. He worked so hard to raise me as a lady yet I have returned home in shackles, filthy, beaten and murderous.

  This beautiful ship is now sailing past the guard tower at the narrow entrance of the harbor, and I am resisting the urge to hang my head in shame. Yes, there ar
e far more treacherous memories from this unfortunate journey, but I cannot deny that there is plenty of good that has come from it as well. The beauty of the open ocean assured me of God’s love, and the power of the storm represented His wrathful might. I saw the root of human nature triumph in its best and plummet in its worst, finding deceit in the honorable and honor in the lawless.

  I saved the lives of two good men and learned that I can defend myself in a fury. Refusing to let myself lay victim to that rotten man’s abuse, I will rather view the brutality I survived as a testament of my own strength. Oh, and I know those buccaneers are a rowdy bunch of outlaws, but I can’t deny that they showed me the best time I have ever had. The world is a large and wild place outside the sturdy walls of The Royal Poinciana, and I am thrilled that I was finally able to experience it.

  Of course, I shall settle on my love for Sterling Bentley. That man will forever be my greatest fantasy. Yes, he has showed me my power as a woman and left me burning to know more of what a man has to offer, but my longing for him goes much deeper than the lustful fire that burns between us. I entirely respect him as the man he is. He is attractive as can be, but also wise and level headed. He can fight with a sword, as well as he can fight through a storm, and since I have learned a bit about the sea myself, my admiration for his navigation work has deepened. The way that such a strong and wild man could be so soft and kind to me melts me into a puddle of love. Everything that he is fills my soul with a peace that will forever be void without him.

  Oh, curse that buccaneer for his good manners! He should have just married me in that brig cell. I would rather rot in prison as Charlie Bentley, the notorious wife of a navigating buccaneer, than as Charlotte Wetherby, the disgraced daughter of an honorable plantation owner. Oh bother! Regardless of my name, we are engaged to be married and I have sworn to be his forever. My memory clings to the sound of him yelling how he loved me from the brig cell, and the vicious strength behind his ravenous kicks to the bars so powerfully expressed that he feels the same intensity for me as I feel for him.

  No matter what waft of peril this uncertain fate bestows upon us, I will muster the nerve to continue in fight. I can see Faron swinging that oar at the armed men that surrounded him, and I can hear Sterling telling me to fight with my mind. The Wind of Glory now rolls near the dock at the harbor and I will sit up straight and proud. There is no shame in what I have done and I am ready to face the uncertain future. There is no fear in love and perfect love casteth out all fear. This fight is not over.

  Charlie Bentley

  The Sea Artist’s Amour

  X

  Awaking to the feel of a rugged shove at my shoulders, I was startled by the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “How dare you treat a woman of her regard in such a way.”

  I tried to open my eyes but the sun was so bright. Where was I? Why did my body ache in such an awful way?

  “Wake up, my darling.” I did know the voice. Forcing my seemingly sand-filled eyes to open, I took in the sight of the man untying me. I gasped my hoarse inquiry. “Governor Morgan?”

  “Yes, dear, it’s me. Let me get you out of this awful rope.” He laid his hand on my sunburned cheek and the touch caused me to flinch. “Good heavens, Charlotte, what on earth has happened to you?”

  I hadn’t heard the name Charlotte in so long I had almost forgotten who she was. “So much has happened. It was all so awful.”

  Helping me to stand up he comforted, “Well, it is now over and you are home. Your father is on his way.”

  “My father?” Oh, my heart lit up with a twisted mix of relief and shame.

  It was terribly painful for me to stand up, and while grabbing on to the governor’s arm to keep steady, I saw Doctor Reedy and Paul Redding whispering to each other. Willard Smith was also talking with them, and he began walking in our direction. The governor greeted him as Captain Smith, and with Oliver Langston nowhere in sight, I wondered what in the world was going on.

  Willard cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Governor, but this woman is guilty of treason and…”

  The governor lowered his head and held his hand out signaling him to stop. “I will let her father deal with her. Her fiancé is a respected attorney. I am sure we will be able to work this out.”

  That hell-hearted Paul Redding jabbed, “Fiancé? This nasty woman let that filthy navigator have at her through the bars.”

  I was too exhausted to argue with him, so I tucked my battered face into Governor Morgan’s shoulder and whispered the part of a terrified victim. “I did nothing of the sort. What a terribly embarrassing lie. Paul is the one that beat on me, and I don’t know why he hates me so.” I decided not to report the attempted rape, figuring it better if my father never found out the depth of danger I’d led myself into.

  Governor Morgan looked at Paul’s battered face with disgust. “This is the last word on the matter for the time being.” Then he continued to explain his plans to Willard. “Deliver me her belongings. I will return the girl to her father and meet with you men after I have her situated. There is plenty we will need to discuss before the dinner party I’ll be honoring you with at sunset.”

  Terribly confused as to how Willard regained his power, I simply thanked the governor for letting me go home.

  As we made our way down the gangway, I held my head up high. I knew I made for quite the spectacle, and if anyone passing by knew who I was they would whisper and gossip about my dreadful appearance for years to come.

  With my sea legs still wobbling beneath me, I saw my father and Lawrence running through the crowd. I had not known how much I missed my father until I saw the fearful love on his aged face. He wrapped his loving arms around me and held me so tight; I think he was crying. The guards cleared the area around us so that we could head home, but I just stayed there in my father’s arms, suddenly crying like a baby.

  While choking on the flood of tears welling in my throat, I tumbled through a whirlpool of all the emotions I experienced on my journey. A tidal wave of memories washed across my senses and left me trembling in the wake. All the terror I endured strummed my nerves, all the love I experienced fluttered in my heart. Passion and pain, guilt and pride, excitement and fear. Shuddering on the shore of contradicting feelings, I let my sobbing express my anguish like the secret message in my song. Though I had returned home feeling savvy and tough, crying in my father’s arms reminded me that no matter what, I would always be his little girl.

  The carriage ride home was quiet. Father insisted I relax and told me we would worry about the details concerning my runaway later. While holding me under his arm, he thanked the Lord I was home, and Lawrence looked to be praying as well. I attempted to smile sweetly at the man who wished to marry me, but his dark eyes were so full of pain, I could hardly stand the heartbreak. Turning to face the horizon, I hoped to escape another round of tears, and the view of the endless horizon seemed to soothe my soul just fine.

  While admiring the horizon, my gaze snapped back to the Wind of Glory, where I saw the guards unloading the prisoners. The daunting visual snapped me out of my moment of peace, and without thinking twice, I unloaded my spyglass to scout out the scene.

  The moment my lens focused, I saw Pete’s Plunder band breaking free down the dock. Knowing they had been taken by force, I considered the emotions they must be facing. I was awestruck by the adventure, and I chose to endure it, but those blimey blokes were dragged through the chaos outside of their will, and I laughed as I imagined the wild stories they would forever be able to tell.

  My humor quickly subsided when I looked back at the prisoners lined up on the deck. Captain Flynn, Marin the Marooner, Pete, Shark, and Doctor Harvey appeared to be roped together with their hands cuffed. I was devastated by the sight. There was someone else in line behind them… It was Oliver Langston! Lunging out of my seat, I hollered, “Those filthy rotten bilge rats.”

  “Good heavens, child,” my father gasped.

  Paying no mind to his conce
rn, I kept a steady eye on the prisoners. Oliver held his head in shame and walked with a sullen posture while the others cursed and snarled at the crew that imprisoned them. What in God’s name had happened while I was asleep? How would Sterling be treated under Willard’s reign? I had so many questions racing through my mind, and while wondering if I would ever get the answers to them, I saw Captain Flynn spit in Paul Redding’s face. Flattered by Faron’s unruly gesture, I growled, “Aye. Get that dirty dog.”

  A guard yanked Faron back in line at the same time my father snatched the spyglass out of my hand. “Calm yourself, Charlotte. You will not be acting like a man of the sea now that you are home.”

  Lowering my head, I pouted to myself. The rigid rules of being a blimey proper lady were already taking force.

  As the carriage moved along, I looked out the window to take in the beauty of my home island. The landscape was so green and luscious, flourishing with flowers and fruit. While enjoying the pleasant sound of the horses’ hooves trotting along the path, the peace of the moment almost rocked me to sleep.

  Drawing past Eden’s Edge, the dreamy haze of my tired mind was washed out by a flood of guilt. A glimpse of the mansion peeked through the flourishing trees and I clearly remembered the beautiful life Lawrence had generously offered me. I felt quite shitten for abandoning him as I had, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish for returning home in the condition I was in. I felt the need to curl up in a corner and hide.

  The carriage moved along the road and soon we were passing Paul and Maureen Patterson’s home. I saw my friend Maureen on the porch playing with her children, and the pleasant sight warmed my heart.

  The beauty of the moment was brashly interrupted when I remembered the way Dedrick Morley had brutalized her. Now knowing how awful it was to be attacked by a man, I could further relate to her anguish, and the warmth that had filled my heart quickly frosted over in an icy glaze of fear. The chilling rush of terror deepened as I recalled the way Dedrick Morley died after I shot him.