DEMONS & PEARLS
The Razor’s Adventures
P.S. BARTLETT
DEMONS & PEARLS
By
P.S. Bartlett
Copyright © P.S. Bartlett 2015
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher and/or author.
Printed in the U.S.A.
Dedication
Once upon a time I met a Pirate
A mate among mates was she
She opened me eyes with a mighty wind
And set me on the sea
She pulled a cork from a bottle a rum
And she offered me a shot
‘Er since that day she stole me heart
With her tales that time forgot
Ivory Shepard she was called
But the rest, they called her Razor
Blood nor sweat nor man nor beast
Was fearful enough to faze her
By sword or by fist she battled on
And rode the waves through hell
Cross her wrong they did as fools
And as fools they died as well
Young and hearty she raised the black
And set forth with her girls
T’wasn’t gold nor silver on her mind
She’d set her sights to pearls
T’was a blessed day I met the girl
Who whispered her tales to me
“Tell it all but state it plain
T’was a woman set them free.”
Thank you for telling me your stories, Ivory Shepard. I’ll always state it plain.
Cristi Taijeron, thank you for your incredible guidance, advice and priceless gems. May your tales also sail on throughout history as some of the most wonderful, honest and passionate pirate stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.
Thank you to lovers of pirate stories. May I always have your guns at the ready, your broadswords sharpened and your pistols loaded with adventure.
As always and forever; to my beautiful family and friends—both lubbers and mates, thank you for always putting up with my time away at sea.
P.S. Bartlett
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
Follow P.S. Bartlett
Caught in the middle of the Golden Age of Piracy, four young women, led by their eldest cousin, Ivory Shepard, have escaped a pirate raid and bought passage aboard a pirate ship to Port Royal, Jamaica.
With no more than their smarts and their will to carry them, they end up caught in a battle for their lives. They have been betrayed by the ship’s captain and unfortunately realize that as women, they are worse off in this new world than they were in the old one.
This is their story as told by Ivory Shepard, also known as…The Razor.
Chapter One
~No Quarter~
Had I known the repercussions of murdering the captain of a pirate ship, I may have taken the time necessary to rethink the act. However, as I stood over the bloody, lifeless body of Captain Christopher Barclay, as well as no less than seven of his crew, as usual it was too late to change my mind. Change my mind, indeed. As if I had a choice.
As if I’ve ever had a choice that didn’t involve a fight, or at the very least, defending myself against someone hell-bent on destroying me or my kin. I must always follow my instincts, regardless of the fallout of my actions. Had I not done so, I most certainly would not have lived to see the rest of this unspeakable day.
I pleaded with the Captain not to kill them all. If he’d have only been more of a man and less a murderous monster, perhaps this day may have ended for him as he lay down at last, safe and whole in his bunk. Alas, this was not to be. Instead, the surge of the battle within him overtook his senses, and he snatched me by the back of my neck.
“Miss Shepard, take your ladies below. And should these swabs be foolish enough to fight back, and God forbid we lose this fight, kill your cousins… and then yourself. Trust me, you’ll not wish to draw breath should that pack of dogs board us.”
“I’ll send them below, but I’ll not pass up the chance at last to show your own pack of dogs who I am.” What the hell was I thinking?
“It’s your pretty head. If the first sight of a sail dropped you to your knees, let’s hope you can stay on your feet when they bare their fangs and lunge at your throat.”
“I’ll live, Captain. And perhaps you haven’t noticed, but they’re not ladies anymore. Today shall prove that.” We’d spent weeks in rags, cleaning up after pirates, listening to their vile comments, and working as virtual slaves in order to secure our passage to Jamaica. I wondered constantly why we hadn’t been violated yet, but I held onto the hope that a pirate could in fact, keep his word.
Perhaps I’d had enough and was ready for a fight. Considering I had fallen to my knees when I heard the call of “Sail!” and had shaken like a leaf at the sight of these men scrambling about, loading guns and making preparations for a fight, one would have thought I’d have run and hidden with my cousins. But, no; as usual, I had something to prove.
“Such a shame to waste such charms. Look at you,” he said, taking me roughly by the jaw with his filthy paw, from which I jerked free instantly. “You’ve lost your youthful glow to the harsh wind and sun, and if you ever had a tender inch, you’ve buried it beneath the vines of bitterness you’ve wrapped yourself in. Tell me, Ivory, who did this to you? Who plucked the rose and left the thorns?”
“Those who would step over that gunnel will meet my blade before another unwanted and indecent hand breaches my striking distance. I’ll remove that hand and take his arm as well, and if that doesn’t stop him, his head.”
“Such a tragedy you are, and since I’ve my own tragic story to write, it’s time to give back to the world what she’s bestowed upon us, my dear. Ready the guns! Do not fire until I give the order! She’s no fucking good in a million pieces!” Barclay roared over our heads as he raced, broadsword in hand, to the stern and stood at her highest point. “Shepard, get your skinny ass up here! You want to be free?”
“I will be free!” I shouted at him. There was no turning back now.
“Bring her around! We’ll rake her from the bow and then take her from the starboard side!” He barked to the helmsman. I’d never heard this voice before. It wasn’t a voice. It was the roar of a mighty lion, and the mere sound of it vibrated through my skin.
As his call to arms passed through me, a deafening hum pierced my brain and I sheathed my sword and cupped the sides of my head, in an attempt to silence it. When I let go, the only sound I heard was my own heartbeat, which I imagined was well over one hundred beats per minute. In the background, strangled beneath the thumping drumbeats that felt as if they were about to split my chest, were the
thunderous cries of the crew. The muffled screams and fearsome bellows of men in search of blood and fortune were barely audible behind the wall of my excruciating terror.
I glanced up and over the side, watching as the panicked crew of our prey scrambled wildly about, dodging the incoming gunfire, obviously unprepared in both arms and numbers for such an assault. Unable to believe what I was seeing, I lowered my hands for a moment and swallowed hard. I watched in horror as the first man at the rail of our prize lost the left side of his skull in a spatter of bone and bloodied skin. The gun flew from his hands, and his feet left the deck simultaneously, sending him bouncing backwards out of this life and unnaturally into the next, as nothing more than a heap of dead flesh.
I think I screamed and then felt a pop deep within my eardrums. All at once, the echoes of deadly battle at last bashed their way in. Gunfire and the thumps and clinks of grappling hooks dropping to the deck in preparation to make capture were sharp, and what I could clearly see and hear was matched sight for sound at last.
“Fire!” Barclay ordered. All five guns kicked back with a deafening boom, shaking the Demon Sea. I lost my footing from the jolt and coughed hard repeatedly as gunpowder and choking smoke filled the air. As we came about to the starboard side of what was obviously no more than a merchant ship, the smoke cleared in the windy spray, and Barclay called to hold fire. I looked across the water to find all those left standing shoulder to shoulder on their deck. Their arms were raised and their meager weapons lay at their feet. The damage done by what I knew to be chain shot—Barclay’s preferred method of maximum devastation—left blood, flesh, and splintered wood as far as my eyes could see.
“Take her lads; she’s all ours!” Barclay shouted as he sheathed his sword and snatched me by the back of my neck again. “Look, girl! Do you see those twenty or so swabs with their tails tucked in their asses? I’m about to give the order of no quarter. Do you know what that means?”
“No quarter?” I asked, shaking free of his grip and pushing him off as I backed away in horror. “Why? They surrendered, and yet you’d…”
“That’s right, lass. Kill them all,” he growled with a smile.
“That’s a coward’s maneuver, Barclay. Those aren’t pirates; they’re sailors trying to make a living.”
“We’re about to take their living. What will they have to live for, once it’s ours?” Barclay’s eyes shined, and at last I could see the monster he truly was. I pulled my sword and pointed it at him as I lowered my head and looked up into his cold, dead eyes. “Call them off. Take the loot and let the living go,” I commanded. Once again, I had no idea what I was thinking. This was none of my affair, and yet something in me couldn’t bear the thought of what he planned to do.
Barclay burst into laughter. “Hold your claws, little kitty, before I rip them out and feed you to the dogs!”
“We’ve been here before, remember? This time, I won’t stop when I pierce your yellow hide.”
“Oh, but you will,” Barclay said with a smooth purr. Then, a thick forearm clamped around my neck from behind and pulled me off my feet. I dropped my sword and dug my nails into my assailant’s hard flesh, and I kicked him again and again. The more I resisted, the more his grip tightened against my throat. The man twisted and turned, causing me to swing from the neck down like a clock’s pendulum. With a loud pop and a violent jerk, his arm pulled free, and I was sent flying hard against the boards, flat on my face and struggling for air.
A second later, I raised my head and opened my eyes to find my attacker lying next to me. A gaping wound had opened from the back of his head straight through to what was left of his face. I was gasping for breath and rubbing my neck, but I managed to push myself up on one knee. Once my vision cleared, my eyes focused on my cousin, Cassandra, staring blankly down at the dead man with a smoldering pistol dangling from her left hand.
“Good shot, Cass. Duck,” I shouted. I dove for my fallen sword, picked it up, and swung it at the sailor about to do mortal damage to Cassandra from behind. I leapt forward and opened the man’s throat with the tip of my blade and watched him fall.
“Get them,” I heard Barclay order as he barreled towards me, but most of the crew had already gone over to the merchant ship, and but a handful remained. He swung wildly at me with his broadsword and nearly caught the sleeve of my shirt with his backswing, but I spun away before he could reach me. I recovered and swiped hard at him and met his blade low. The blow shook me, and my arms trembled, but there was no time to consider any such discomfort, or death would stifle any tremble or quake for good. Barclay came up from under with his sword, swirling mine and tossing it off. He came at me again with a powerful fore swing, and our blades rang out against each other.
His strength and force far outweighed mine, but that didn’t stop me. I was stronger and more powerful than I’d ever been, and although I stumbled, I stood back and balanced myself before striking out again. I knew I could not win this battle within a battle by force. I’d need to rely on my agility and skill with a sword in order to take down this man twice my size.
My arms felt like lead as I continued to combat Barclay on the quarterdeck. I evaded his swings long enough to notice my cousins fighting their own battles as well, dropping dead pirates one after the other. As with every struggle in our lives, their ferocious spirits gave me the strength to continue. With a renewed wind, I again engaged Barclay. With every meeting of our blades, I screamed from the agonizing pain in my arms that felt as if every muscle from my fingers to my neck were tearing away from the bone.
The moaning boards and hard tilting of the Demon caught my attention long enough to see my cousin, Miranda, swinging an axe and cutting us away from the merchant ship. Over the howls and cries of battle, I heard the familiar shouts and screams of my cousins hard at work to set us free. Barclay heard them as well, and he turned away from me for a moment when he too, realized what was happening. That was the window that opened him up to me.
I let out a scream. I released the roar of my own lion. With every bit of my heart, I swung that sword and struck him, slicing through the sleeve of his coat, tearing through his flesh until I felt the blade hit bone at his elbow as I followed through. Then, the ferocity of what I’d done stole my breath when I watched as his severed arm fell to the deck—his hand still clutching his sword.
Covered in his own blood, Barclay staggered to the gunnel, grappling at his bloodied stump. He fell to his left, catching himself on the rail under his arm, and he gritted his teeth as he looked up at me and groaned, “I told you, didn’t I?”
“You’ve told me many things,” I panted. “None of which I find worth mentioning at the moment.”
“I told you…that you…were a pirate.” His face crumpled in pain, and he drew long deep breaths between his words.
I tossed my head at him and moved in until the tip of my sword was mere inches from his nose. I wanted to end him; not only for what he’d tried to do to me, but for all of the atrocities he wore on his twisted face since the first time I’d laid eyes on him. “What was that you said before about no quarter?”
“Look at me,” Barclay groaned as he bled out from his severed limb, and then he laughed. “I’m already dead.”
Possessed with the desire for more of his blood, I drew back my sword with calculated precision and pressed the point of my blade to his chest. His bloodshot eyes rolled down and stared at it for a moment, and he smiled, as if he knew what was coming. Through that peaceful grin, he let out a long sigh of relief, almost as if he welcomed the sharp tip into his body. Our eyes locked. The world had fallen completely still between us. The next thing I felt was his body weight pressed hard against me, until the brass buttons on his coat were pressed against my knuckles.
As his dying weight bore down on me and the wet heat of his blood flowed between us, I shoved him off of me and stumbled back. My eyes blew open as Barclay’s dead body fell away from me and the sword, soaked red, slid free of him and hung from my h
and.
The gasps of my cousins revived me from my murderous trance, and the screams and violent splashing of men, either swimming for their lives or drowning, sent me again into action. My ever-at-alert cousin, Keara, asked, “Now what do we do? Do you honestly think that lot will follow us? They were all loyal to Barclay.” Then, she collapsed.
They all stared at me, waiting for me to speak. All I could think was what I’d heard; if anyone challenged the Captain and won, they had the right to claim the nomination to take his place. What did I know? I couldn’t just stand there and wait for the next thing to happen anymore. I had to take control. As I glanced around me at the half dozen or so dead sailors, remorse was overcome by pride in knowing we’d been able to, yet again, survive.
“We need a crew. Let’s go after that ship. Those merchant sailors will do, and the code says any man who wants to be Captain can, when they challenge the present Captain and win. I’d say I won, wouldn’t you?”
“You would be correct,” said the very thick voice of a native Jamaican man as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere with his hands in the air.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Keara asked, leaping to her bare feet and raising her sword at him.
“I have been here all along. I am no one, really; only a man who wishes to stay alive until we reach Jamaica.”
“Turn around,” I ordered, and I nodded to Cassandra to search the huge man for weapons, of which he had none.
“I can assure you I am unarmed. I will obey the code. I only want to live so that I may return to Kingston once we make land.”
“What do you think, Ivory?” Keara asked aside.
“Can you sail this ship?” I asked him.
“That I can do, yes, but I will need assistance.”
Demons & Pearls (The Razor's Adventures Book 1) Page 1