“I would rather him behind bars, but my advice is falling on deaf ears.” He huffed. “How ironic.”
Jun narrowed her eyes at Peng. There was a deep protective bone in her body. Reserved for few in her life, but fierce nonetheless. After last night, her sense of that protectiveness toward the captain was one more thing forged within her. “Humor is not your gift, Chou Peng.”
She turned her back on him and retrieved a long-handled bag made of thick woven cotton containing two items she’d requested last evening—a small square of stone tile, and a bit of gypsum. Tools for the captain a bit more transportable than ink and quill. Qi had given Jun the idea for the gift. The child loved to draw pictures on the stones in the gardens and would then dance upon them to scuff her bare feet over the scribbles to erase them and start anew.
Jun slipped the long strap over her shoulder and pulled the stone from the bag. To Peng, she asked, “It is my understanding your men have gathered a cache of recovered items on the north beach. Is that correct?”
“It is.” Peng eyed the stone in her hands with curiosity.
“No human remains? Signs of anyone else coming ashore?”
“None.”
Jun frowned. “It is doubtful anyone could have fought their way to our brother island Salahnama?”
“The shoreline is much too steep. They could have fought the currents, but it is likely they would not have been able to climb the sheer walls.” Peng tipped his sharp chin in Captain Quinn’s direction before smoothing his beard back into a well-groomed point. “If his fellow crewmates did not make their way here in the hour following the storm, I’m afraid there is little hope for them at this point.”
“I agree.”
During the exchange, Jun noted the way the captain’s attention never wavered from them. He studied them intently, watching their mouths, following every movement of their hands. Her understanding of what life might be like for him grew, as did her curiosity to learn how he had overcome what to her seemed an impossible challenge. If it were true that he was the Captain of the Scarlet Night, how had he commanded? How had he survived the rugged conditions aboard ship without being able to hear and speak? Lived a life at sea? How had that all come to be? Either he was an accomplished liar, or he was a most remarkable man.
When his perceptive pale eyes captured hers, they caused her breath to hitch. No…he wasn’t lying.
“Good morning, Captain.” As she spoke, she used the soft gypsum to write the words on the flat stone pad. Using her palm, she rubbed the words away and wrote more. You will please come with us to the north beach. Jun held up the stone for him to read. He gave the tiniest frown. She repeated the erasing and continued. We believe items from your ship have been recovered.
He held out his hands and reached for the stone before using the back of his wide palm to wipe her words away. The captain scribbled one word and held the slate for her to see. Anyone?
Jun’s heart still broke for him. He continued to hold out hope that others from his crew had survived. It pained her to have to continue to dash his hopes. She gave him the smallest shake of her head before placing a comforting hand on his arm. The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he wiped away the word and handed her back the tile.
“Are we done with the pleasantries?” Peng hissed. His arms folded tight within his sleeves across his chest. “My men are waiting.” He spoke to her in Chinese, for all to hear.
Jun met Peng’s glare with one of her own. “And they shall wait as long as I demand they wait.”
“As you wish.” He bit out the words.
Jun was not a patient woman. Nor a tolerant one. And no one knew that more than Peng, and yet there he stood almost taunting her with his insolence. Perhaps she had given him too many liberties and made him boldly think he could exceed his station. She would respect him, however, and not reprimand him and cause him to lose face in front of his men, but this was far from over.
“Mind yourself,” she added in English with a false calm to her voice before stepping off the dais and leading the way.
Captain Quinn fell into step at her side. Peng rushed to catch up with her. “It isn’t necessary for you to accompany us, my men and I can see to this insignificant duty.”
Jun didn’t look at him. “I’m coming.”
“To see a pile of rubble and waterlogged chests?” Peng’s disdain laced his words.
Jun never broke stride, but pulled one razor-sharp scimitar from its tooled sheath. “I’m coming, and that is my final word.”
Chapter 8
All Will’s senses were on high alert even though part of his brain was still a bit muddled this morning. The humid air did little to clear his thoughts. He clipped his pace to stay alongside Jian Jun. As she swung her arm the flash off the tip of her sword kept pace with each determined stride. They passed through the halls and out into the haze of the day. On the way, each person stopped in their chores to honor Jun’s arrival. With or without her blade, she commanded these people. Her power was undeniable and impressive. Out of respect, he let her take the lead, cut his gait once more to match that of her sneering purple companion. She led them toward the harbor.
Will had no clue what words she and the other man had shared, but the tension between the pair was high. His distrust toward Will needed no interpretation, but there was something more Will couldn’t put his finger on. Something had transpired. While Jun and Will passed their communication slate back and forth, the man’s expression had darkened, but Will had missed it happening.
But the man’s fists were balled at his sides and he moved as if he had a ship’s mast jammed up his arse. A lover’s quarrel perhaps? Whatever the cause of his mood, back in the great hall, Jun had held all Will’s attention for a moment too long, and he’d lost the opportunity to read the man properly.
She’d distracted him. Will wasn’t usually so distracted. Being unfocused was a danger he couldn’t afford, but in her presence his feet felt as if he were standing on shifting sands.
Last night’s events had rushed back into his consciousness upon seeing her. He was struck by the difference between the hardened pirate leader upon the dais, and the woman who appeared in his room. Internally, he groaned. And what did I do? Tried to do myself in. I’m a bloody idiot!
Will struggled for some valid excuse to explain his reckless, cowardly behavior. He’d been out of his mind. Grief and pain had temporarily won the battle. The lure of an endless sleep had been so seductive. Was there any other justification for what he had tried to do?
But there she’d been, looking soft and beautiful. Not a hard edge in sight. She’d saved his sorry arse, too, practically drowning him in tea. After that, his memory was a bit sketchy. The pull of the drugs had dragged him into a dangerous spiral. Next thing he knew he was face first in a plant hurling up the sour contents of his stomach and half his toenails. How he got back to bed, he couldn’t guess. He’d been naked, that was for sure. Had he been stupid enough to try and seduce her? The only thing he recalled with any amount of clarity was the sight of her perfectly naked breast. Small and creamy white. Her nipple, the palest shade of palest pink. All he’d wanted in that hazy moment was to taste her. Begin with her lips before moving his mouth lower to sip on the delicately blushed tip. He’d reached for her to pull her mouth to his. And then it was morning, and he was alone.
Watching the straight line of her back as she walked along the docks, Will held on to that lusty vision of that one perfect breast. He was actually thankful for the distraction. It may be the only thing keeping him sane today.
Will took in the sights around him. The streets and docks bustled with the village’s morning activity. Ships being loaded and unloaded. Merchants, seamen, and peddlers already busy with the day’s business. The harbor was full of every manner and size of ship. Mostly junks. Some as long as the largest frigate. Their odd sails with their long bamboo slats ope
ned and closed like giant ladies’ fans were folded closed at anchor. High sterns, projected square bows. Some carried as many as five masts. Those he could see all flew the flag of Jian Jun’s fleet with its golden dragon breathing fire on a field of black. Red flags of luck decorated each mast. Their rich color reminded him of the Scarlet Night.
The responsibility for the wreck still hung heavy on this heart, and walking past the impressive line of ships filling the docks, he braced himself for another blinding wave of grief at seeing what remained of his own beautiful ship.
Ahead of him he spied the familiar red of her sails in a sodden heap at the water’s edge. Jian Jun and her officer stopped, yet a flood of emotion propelled Will past them. Rope and sail and a shattered section of polished railing told him the final chapter of the tale. He lifted a sliver of wood, crushing it in his fist until the sharp edge cut into his palm. Will curled into the ache in his chest. This heap…rubble… How could this be the last scene of his great ship and all who sailed upon her? He searched the waters but all he could see was the haunting sight of her angled masts against the storm.
The power of the seas had been too great. They hadn’t had a chance. The Night had broken up at the incessant battering of the sea’s fists as it floundered against the reef. She’d been reduced to bits.
Will looked back over the items dumped on the sand. He used his toe to ease the shredded sail aside. Several trunks, a belay pin, part of a barrel, and several lengths of deck board were all that remained. He pulled the trunks free from the rest.
Crossing to one of Jun’s men, he pointed to the heavy dirk the man carried at his side. Will held his hand out for the weapon and stared the man down before watching his brief questioning glance toward his commander. At Jun’s slight nod, the man pulled the dagger from its sheath and handed it over, handle first.
Flipping the weapon in his hand, Will used the solid hilt to break open the locks on each trunk. His stomach dropped when he raised their lids and found everything inside ruined. An entire bow-topped chest full of bolts of rich silks had been reduced to a casket of dripping, useless rags. He hauled fists full out to puddle on the sand. Will opened the next. A cache of expensive spices now resembled rusted mud. He scooped the muck with his fingers before throwing it aside in disgust.
Will straightened and kicked over each trunk in frustration. He searched the rest of the wreckage. This was it? The truth gnawed at his belly. Chests of gold and silver rarely floated, and anything that did was ruined. He’d truly lost everything...and everyone.
There was one thing he wanted from this mess. Needed. Moving to the yards of heavy wet sail, Will used the dirk he’d borrowed to cut away several ragged pieces of the once majestic, ruby-dyed sail canvas that proudly bowed from each mast of the Scarlet Night. It was the ship’s signature. It’s identity. Their calling card to their enemies that the mighty crew of the Night were upon them. A magnificent sight as well as a chilling one.
Her red sails had always called him home. He’d grown up in her rigging. Known every inch of board, every nail, and every gun. He’d fought on her decks with his back anchored firmly to her center mast and believed as a boy, when he stood in the crow’s nest and held his arms wide, that he was truly flying. A tightening in his throat threatened to choke him. Now look at her. She was a pile of sea trash.
Will took the smaller square of red sail and tucked it into the front of his tunic where it lay cold and wet against his heart. The second, larger piece, he had other plans for. As captain, he had one final duty to perform for his crew.
He nudged at the pile again with a bare toe as he swallowed past the lump in his gullet. How could things have ended so quickly and completely? Was this truly all that remained? Shouldn’t there be more of such a magnificent ship and her brave crew?
A glint of brass caught the light of the sultry sun. Will tipped his head and peered past the tangle of rope. Bloody hell. Hope surged in him as he pushed back the remainder of the sails and shredded rigging and pulled his log box from the wreckage.
Crouching before the small chest, he ran his hand over the rich carving. Packed sand filled the pattern. Could the ship’s logs have survived? After opening the other chests and finding everything ruined, he didn’t dare raise his expectations. Using the point of the dirk’s blade, he inserted the tip into the iron lock. After a moment of finessing the hasp, he felt the distinctive pop as the lid released.
They were lost, they had to be. Will sat back on his heels and waited a full breath, closing his eyes before daring to lift the lid.
When he looked, there they were—his precious logbooks. Damp and curled at the edges, their leather covers stained with salty halos of seawater, but the chest had done its best holding the pounding waves at bay. Given what little was left of the ship, it was nothing short of a miracle to be holding the logs in his hands.
Will gathered the small chest along with the scrap of Scarlet’s sail and rose to his feet. He pulled a deep breath into his sore lungs as he scanned the white beach. Would he ever stop looking for them? After all this time, it was foolish to hope. Still he gave a final look expecting to find another member of his crew. Some evidence at least. Alive or dead. However, the wide sands were clear.
Faces of forty-two men…and one extraordinary woman…flashed through his mind. He feared their final moments, their ultimate fates would haunt him all his days. Will rubbed a hand over his eyes. The tension in his jaw threatened to crush his back teeth. Thirty years of faces paraded through his thoughts. The Scarlet Night had been their legacy as well. He’d remember them all. Ric, MacTavish, Neo…Gavin… They’d entrusted him to carry on after they left.
He’d failed them.
When he took command, he believed somehow that Gavin would have been proud. Will failed him as well. He and Tupper had given him a life. It wasn’t right that he was standing here, the heat of the sun warm on his skin. The clean cool air coming from the sea filling his nostrils. Why should he be the one standing on this shore? He should have gone down with the rest. After all he was Captain. A captain goes down with their ship. If anyone should be dead, it was him. It was his fault they were lost. In his blind rush to save one, he had killed them all.
Will tucked the last treasure of his command under his arm and turned back toward the palace. As he passed Jun’s man, Will returned his dagger and kept walking.
Where Jun and her purple shadow stopped, two servants stood on either side of them, holding poles stretching heavy cloth over their heads to provide shade against the brutal sun. When he reached them, Jun moved to join him, and the servants scrambled to follow until she waved them away. Once more, Will was reminded of her station. Her rank among her people. She truly was their queen.
Then he saw them. Heads. Twenty or so severed heads on pikes lined the entrance to the harbor. What had these men done, and how had he missed them before? Were they enemies? They had obviously been placed here to send a clear, brutal message.
Jun paid them no mind, and simply walked past taking the lead once more. Her companion, however, made a point to lift his gaze to the gruesome sight and cast a smug glance in Will’s direction. He lifted one eyebrow and tipped the blade of his chin toward him. Was he giving Will a warning? Reminding him of exactly how ruthless their queen could be?
The man forgot one thing. Will was no babe in short pants. Hell, he’d never been a babe in short pants. He’d lay good coin on the fact that he’d lived as a pirate longer than either of them. Heads on pikes neither shocked nor frightened him. Neither did purple-draped idiots that dared challenge him.
Will shot a glance at Jun’s proud back once again. He shifted the chest under his arm. One thing was certain. The longer he stayed here, the more tenuous the situation. Jian Jun had been gracious so far, but he’d seen enough to be wary of such generosity. They were pirates after all. Fierce. Greedy. Rarely did they act out of the goodness of their hearts without so
me selfish motive.
He’d need a few things before leaving, however. A weapon, surely. Truth be told he felt naked without a single blade. How he’d come by one, he hadn’t figured out. You didn’t just ask for a pistol, and stealing one might put his own head on a pike.
Will winced as his foot met with an arch-stabbing stone. He ground his back teeth at the sharp pain. And bloody boots. He couldn’t run around barefoot any more. The strange clothing, he could deal with even if it fit him poorly, but he needed proper footwear. His mind flashed to the memory of his favorite boots filling with seawater and being dragged away from him during his battle with the storm. He’d just gotten the damn things broken in. Looking at those around him, the men all had such small feet by comparison. There must be someone with feet his size, but without funds, how would he acquire a pair even if he could find them?
So he’d need a decent weapon…preferably two or three, and a sturdy pair of boots. He ticked them off in his mind. And there was that other thing every good pirate captain required. Beyond a mighty crew and fair seas.
Will looked out in to the harbor pack tight with craft, scanning once more the odd junks resting at anchor. The last thing on the list would require all his honed skills and a few he hadn’t learned yet. Because somehow, some way, either by beg, borrow, or steal, he needed a bloody new ship.
Chapter 9
“And what do you propose we do with him now?” Peng spoke over her right shoulder as they proceeded back to the palace.
“I haven’t decided.” Jun kept moving. Ahead of her walked Captain Quinn. His long strides distancing him from her. Her bumbling servants in charge of shading them from the sun’s heat scrambled to keep up. The warmth of the day was only half of the slow heat building within her. Oh yes, she had some distinct ideas as to what she’d like to do with the good Captain. None of which she was willing to share with Chou Peng.
Within A Captain's Soul Page 6