The Whore was a smaller ship than the Siren Song, but in the right hands every bit as dangerous. What she lacked in size and firepower, she made up for in speed and maneuverability. Captain Elizabeth Shireland's command of the ship made it as fiercely deadly as any shark in those waters.
Grace's respite in the sweet salt air was brief. No sooner had they come topside, than the guard was leading her back inside again. The Captain's cabin was small and stuffy. Papers and objects littered every surface as if a small child had just been throwing a tantrum. Captain Shireland was pacing back and forth in a dither, paying no heed to what lay in her path.
Grace had never met Lizzie face to face, but there was no doubt in her mind who this ferocious wild woman was. She was just as described: very petite, almost child-like in stature, a full head shorter than Grace. She wore her curly blonde hair closely cropped, and preferred a man's linen shirt and breeches to something more befitting a female. If it were not for the distinctive womanly curves that she made no attempt to hide, she could have been easily mistaken for a young lad who had yet to see 13 years.
Grace stood impassively, waiting for Lizzie to acknowledge her presence.
“Well, well, Captain Grace O'Malley,” Lizzie nearly spat. “We meet at last. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my invitation to join us aboard the Whore.” She bared her teeth in something akin to a smile.
“Invitation indeed,” Grace grumbled as she reached for the tender lump on the back of her skull.
Lizzie's agitation ratcheted several notches. “I wouldn't have had to resort to such forceful means, if you had not put your nose into my affairs.” Her face reddened and she seemed to be shaking with fury as she continued. “You've been so very busy with your clever little plots and schemes. But you pay a bit too well to be informed, and far too many of your little friends are all too eager to wag their tongues for anyone willing to pay the right price.”
Grace opened her mouth to comment, but Lizzie ranted on.
“My new galley wench seemed a bit too friendly with folks no matter where we put in. Imagine my shock to find out she'd been planted aboard my ship as a spy!” She seemed to realize she had begun shouting and took a calming breath and rubbed her chest before she continued. “Aye, it was a fine little trap you'd set, but I've managed to put you right in the middle of it just as it's about to spring.”
Again Grace attempted to comment, but Lizzie's wrath overflowed.
“Why couldn't you leave bloody well alone, Grace?” the little impish woman seethed as she came toe to toe with her.
Grace said nothing, but utter shock overtook her face as she noticed two damp spots spreading across the front of Lizzie's linen shirt. Lizzie stood there glaring Grace down for several moments before she realized what had happened.
She looked down at her chest and all the fury seemed to drain away at once. “Saints and sinners,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a grimy rag from a pile of linens on her bed. She crossed to the cabin door and put her head out. “Tell Dr. Bone it's time,” she said to someone on the other side. She then dropped herself onto the bed in a heap. “Sit,” she commanded Grace and waved at the chair near a table littered with charts and maps.
Grace sat heavily on the chair, but had no words for the moment. She sat there staring in astonishment across the cabin at Lizzie. All the sudden the spit-fire captain lost her flame and seemed frail and vulnerable.
It was the ship's surgeon, Dr. Bone, who ended the awkward silence. He entered the cabin with a wriggling, cooing bundle for Lizzie. Gently placing the bundle in her lap, he uncovered one end to reveal a sweet tiny head covered in bright golden curls. The cherubic face had the same wide blue eyes as Lizzie.
Grace sat completely mute as she watched Lizzie cradle the baby in her crossed legs and pull up her shirt-tail to nurse the child. All of a sudden, Lizzie’s odd manner of dress made astoundingly practical sense to Grace. Even the most simple and home-spun garments would have hindered this basic of mothering acts. Without a doubt, all of the laces, boning, and layers of even the most common of women’s clothes would have frustrated a mother’s simple desire to feed her child.
Dr. Bone cleared his throat loudly, and redirected Grace’s attention. He had been standing respectfully with his back to his Captain, but she had failed to dismiss him.
“If I may, Captain O’Malley, I’d like to take a closer look at that duck’s egg they left on your head. They were in such a hurry to secure you below that I had but a moment to determine that your skull wasn’t completely split open.”
“Oh, stop your belly-aching, Bone. Obviously she’s not seriously harmed,” Lizzie chided without looking up at him.
Bone refrained from responding and did his best to look only at the lump on the back of Grace’s head and not at Captain Shireland. For several moments he quietly sifted through her hair, making certain there was only the one lump. Once satisfied, he smoothed her hair back into place, and declared, “Indeed it seems you’ve suffered no permanent harm, Mistress O’Malley.”
“Bone, you have such a grasp of the painfully obvious,” Lizzie quipped as she shifted her baby to the other side of her body.
“Carrying on with the obvious, then, do you think that you have made your displeasure with Miss Pippa obvious enough? I need her help with the child, Ma’am.”
“Yes, yes,” she said as she waved him away like a noisome fly. “Go retrieve your little waif.”
Bone wasn’t certain if she wanted him to take the baby, too, so he stood a moment too long.
“Now, Bone! Out. Leave Christopher with me and go. I'll send someone to fetch you if I want you.”
As soon as he'd gone, Lizzie turned her attention back to Grace. “I swear he's awfully thick for a surgeon sometimes.”
Grace had no place to comment on the matter, so she just let the silence hang awkwardly.
Once Christopher had finished his meal, Lizzie propped him on her shoulder and began patting gently upon his back.
“I had this all so brilliantly planned out, once upon a time,” Lizzie said, finally filling the silent void in the room. She seemed tired but peaceful as she continued. “His father and I had parted ways a mere fortnight before I realized I was carrying his child. For a while I carried on as if nothing was different, but the awareness that there was an innocent life I had to care for made me rethink my course. I had to find a way to retire to a safer life.”
“When I first made my agreement with the British, I already had enough money set aside to settle somewhere quiet, or so I thought. What is left of the man that had been raiding the treasure hold still feeds the following gulls.”
She paused as the child gave a small burp and settled to sleep.
“By then the signs of the life in my belly were starting to show, I knew I had but a small window to take risks. At least if they caught me while I was pregnant, they would not hang me. Now that Christopher is passed three months, strong and healthy, there is not a judge that would hesitate to take him from me and put me on the gallows. The Hercules was to be my last desperate gambit, Grace.”
The weight of the consequences of her actions settled like a cannon ball in her mind. Grace hadn't put a stop to a double-crossing scallywag, but had sentenced a mother and child to destitution at best and death at worst.
“What of the child's father?” she asked as she began to seek a way to unravel her mess.
“We parted on less than amiable terms, and he sailed off with his crew. Despite my own changing feelings, I doubt the rift between us could be mended. He probably wouldn't trust me long enough to even tell my tale.”
Grace's stomach twisted in knots. Liam's association with Lizzie had ended about a year ago, and on unfriendly terms. The realization that he was likely this child's father made her want to heave over the rails like a sea sick landlubber. She shoved away her emotional response as quickly as it hit her. Her own foolishness be damned, she had to make this right.
Her head
spun as she raced through options, rejecting all that came to mind, and constantly clamping down on thoughts of Liam. She wished she had the luxury to be angry with him for toying with her. She wished she could be angry for foolishly believing him again. She growled to herself in frustration.
“What?” Lizzie asked.
“Nothing, just wishing you had a way to escape.”
Now it was Grace's turn to pace the cabin. No wonder Lizzie had been so livid.
“Captain,” someone called from the other side of the door. “The watch has spotted a ship approaching from the south.”
“Let me know as soon as you identify her. It’s the Black Dragon, most likely.”
“Damn your black heart, Liam O'Shea,” Grace thought, but managed not to say.
“Let us hope it's the Dragon and not the Navy, at any rate” Lizzie continued.
“A Royal Navy ship is the only thing I'd rather see less than the Black Dragon,” muttered Grace. “A pox on both their houses.”
“And here I was certain that Captain O’Shea would throw himself in harm's way for you!” Lizzie taunted.
“The only thing Liam O'Shea is good for is rescuing your sorry soul,” Grace retorted as a plan began to take form in her mind.
Chapter 9
Rescue
As Liam guided the Black Dragon alongside the Ocean’s Whore, he saw that utter chaos reigned aboard the smaller vessel. Although he had been signaled to approach, it looked as though the crew was expecting a fight. Mysteries continued to accrue when it wasn’t Captain Shireland, but Grace, who granted him permission to come aboard.
“What gives, Captain O’Malley? Have you captured Lizzie’s ship single handed?”
“Not hardly,” she growled her response. “Have your crew make ready for three guests and a hasty getaway.”
“What? Why?”
“No doubt the British Commodore’s flagship is right behind you. If they capture Lizzie, she’s done for.”
“Wasn’t that the plan, O’Malley?”
“Plans change,” was the extent of her terse retort.
At that moment Pippa joined them with baby Christopher in her arms. Somehow the wee lad was sleeping through the din on the deck. Liam opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, more sailors approached loaded down with all manner of baggage.
“Captain says these are to be put aboard the other ship. Is that right, sir?” a particularly swarthy sailor asked Captain O’Shea.
“How the blazes would I know? I just got here.”
“Yes, all of Captain Shireland’s effects are to be put aboard the Dragon. Haul away boys,” Grace directed them. “Better warn your crew, O’Shea.”
Liam turned from the madness to shout orders across to the other decks that cargo was coming aboard. He turned back again to find Lizzie grinning up at him.
“Fancy meeting you again under such circumstances, O’Shea,” she nearly giggled. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“Not really.”
“I thought as much. Permission granted.”
Once Lizzie, Pippa, baby, and all the cargo were transferred, a cry came from the Whore’s crow’s nest.
“Ship ahoy! Looks to be a ship of the line!”
“Trouble has finally arrived,” Grace muttered. “Off you go,” she said as she began shoving Liam back toward his own ship.
“Wait one minute, Grace O’Malley. I came sailing like the blazes out of Port Royal to come after you. I’m not about to go anywhere without you.”
“Sorry to tell you this, but you most certainly are. That baby they took aboard the Dragon is Lizzie’s, and if the British get their hands on her, they’ll waste no time making an orphan of him. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get the full story from Lizzie, but for now you need to get out of here before that ship of the line catches up to us.”
“Nothing in what you just said precludes you from coming with us.”
“I set this crew up, and now their captain is abandoning ship. Someone needs to take responsibility for those left aboard the Whore. And that’s going to be me. Now get to flying before it’s too late!” She practically threw him overboard and gave the order to release the ropes.
“Make it look good, O'Shea, or they might decide to come after you instead,” Grace shouted as the Black Dragon began to pull away.
Orders were given to open every yard of canvas the Dragon had, just as the Royal Navy ship, Valiant, began to loom large on the horizon.
“All right, lads, we have to make this look convincing. That Navy ship expected to catch the Whore in the act of attacking another ship. Roll out the guns and aim high boys! If you actually hit her, you hit your own captain.”
She ran down the deck to join the gunners, shouting orders to open up the canvas as if in pursuit of their prey. She saw that not only was the Black Dragon running at full sail, she had raised the British colors and a distress signal. Liam was playing the part of the victim very convincingly.
“Now, let's put that shot between us and the Dragon just off her starboard side,” she cooed in the gunner's ear.
She hated wasting perfectly good ammunition, but the shot needed to make the appropriate splash at the end of its flight. The gunner angled the cannon just a bit higher and lit the fuse. The powder roared with a deafening concussion as the ball tore through the air. Grace held her breath. The shot looked as though it might actually hit the Dragon, but at the last possible moment the shot dropped short of its apparent goal and crashed alongside the Black Dragon with a spray reaching the height of the mainmast. The Dragon responded by lurching to port and, hopefully, further out of range.
A thunderous plume of ocean spray followed by a low rumbling boom came just aft of the Whore. The Valiant had taken the bait, and the chase was on.
The chaotic din grew to deafening levels as every man took up his battle station. Block and tackle wailed as every bit of canvas was unfurled. The rest of the guns were rolled moaning to their places on deck. It was a deadly and dangerous game Grace played, but one she played very, very well. She raced back to take her place alongside the helmsman, and kept a careful eye on the Valiant. For a heavy British ship of the line, she was closing the gap quickly.
Another shot screamed overhead, flying high and long. It threw a mountainous wall of water over the port bow.
“Are we going to let them fire on us at will?” Grace shouted over the madness. “Let's show them how we answer such a greeting!”
The helmsman turned the rudder, giving the starboard guns a better shot at the Valiant. Two guns roared their reply. One shot splashed short, but the other opened a hole in the railing about the bow. Not a particularly damaging shot, but the first to actually shiver timber. Then it was the Ocean’s Whore that took a blow, as bar shot came ripping through the topmost sails. The Whore would not be able to run long if the Valiant managed to destroy the sheets.
Grace spotted the white caps of shoals in the distance. They could take advantage of the Whore's diminutive size and lose the Valiant in the treacherous shallows. She gave the order to the helmsman just as the Valiant’s guns erupted in another violent barrage. The smoke still billowed as another round of bar shot damaged the foremost mast. They were going to have to run as if from the devil himself to escape the Valiant.
Then a favorable breeze picked up to their advantage. The little ship skipped along the surface of the water, while the larger vessel could gain no perceptible speed. The sails strained against their riggings as the breeze pushed them faster and faster towards the shallow reef, a danger almost as deadly as the Valiant.
The master of the British ship must have sensed the possible loss of his quarry. All of the Valiant's firepower was unleashed on the little Whore. Two holes erupted from the main deck as the foremast toppled from cannon fire. Men were shouting all about her, but Grace could not hear a word over the thunderous explosions.
More and more of the crew b
egan to disappear below decks to man the bilge pumps. The Ocean’s Whore could not sustain this much damage without taking on water. A sick tinge of fear rose in Grace's throat like unwelcome bile. She began to question if she had steered them all to certain doom on the reef.
The Valiant seemed satisfied with the likely outcome of the Whore's fate and backed off her pursuit. The gap between the ships widened as the Ocean’s Whore hurtled toward the shoals.
Then Grace spotted their salvation - a tell-tale break in the white caps. She directed the helmsman toward the gap in the reef. Even at their breakneck pace the man at the wheel threaded the tiny gap like a needle. Grace gave the order to haul up some of the sails and take the rest of the maze at a safer pace. A few tense minutes later the Ocean’s Whore had danced her way through to the other side of the reef and the safety of the open ocean. The Valiant, should they choose to give chase again, would have to sail leagues around the reef. Grace intended to be long gone by then.
A decision would have to be made very quickly. Although they had escaped the clutches of the Royal British Navy, they were far from undamaged. The first mate explained that the Ocean’s Whore had been leaky and in poor repair to begin with. With the loss of the foremast and the additional battle damage, she was in real peril of sinking if a safe berth were not found, and quickly. Grace knew the nearest safe place was the Siren Song's refuge. She saw no other choice but to bring yet another crew into her haven. She gave the helmsman his heading and locked herself in the captain's quarters. She needed rest, and time to grieve for what she had lost.
Chapter 10
Beyond the Horizon
“You did what!?” Liam roared so loudly that the glazing rattled in the window panes of his cabin aboard the Black Dragon.
Pippa watched wide-eyed as Lizzie and Liam raged together like a pair of hurricanes. The fight had begun as soon as they had drawn out of sight of the other ships. Lizzie derived a special pleasure from tormenting Liam, and twisted all of his questions, leaving him sputtering with rage. The last dam against his fury finally broke when he realized what she had told, or rather had not told, Grace.
Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1) Page 5