Cutlass

by T. M. Franklin

  “Set sail for Tortuga immediately,” he said. “But lower the Crown colors, and inform the men to don civilian garb. Stealth is the key, Cameron. I don’t want them to see us coming.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Double the watch. I want everyone on the lookout for those three ships. I want to know what is happening, but I can’t emphasize enough that I do not want to be noticed.”

  Cameron saluted and turned on his heel to follow his orders. Stanton headed for his quarters to change out of his uniform and into the drab clothes of an ordinary man.

  An ordinary man he had no intention of ever being again.

  No, Commodore Stanton would have to be very careful in this little game, but if he was right, once Kane and Tremayne had destroyed each other, he would be the one to reap the rewards.

  Lord Lucius Stanton.

  He smiled.

  Yes, he definitely liked the sound of that.

  After much desperate searching, I have found the place to secure my treasure. It is in need, however, of measures beyond the natural defenses of the area.

  I have devised a complex plan that will require the best tradesmen the area has to offer. It will be an expensive undertaking to be sure. But fortunately for me, money is no longer an insurmountable obstacle.

  - The Journal of Simon Alistair Mellick, 17 November, 1665

  “No, that’s not right,” Rina insisted, pointing to the squiggly black line Jonathan had drawn on the sheet of parchment. “This part curved down—or south—if this is north, that is.”

  Jonathan frowned, then dipped the quill in ink and scratched out the line he’d just drawn, following her instructions. “Like this?”

  She hummed, watching him continue to sketch a replica of the half of the map Barton had stolen. Sam, Max, and James completed the circle crowded around the captain’s desk, all scrutinizing the work with a critical eye.

  “Don’t forget the coin,” she said once he sat back, the main part of the map complete. He nodded, sketching it in the same location and adding the mysterious numbers along the edge.

  “How do you know it’s a coin?” James asked.

  Rina reached for her necklace, ready to explain. “Because—“

  “We don’t,” Jonathan said flatly, flashing a quick warning look her way. “Looked a bit like a coin, but it could be anything, really.”

  Rina took the hint, her hand returning to her side without another word. Jonathan studied the map for a moment, then looked up at James carefully.

  “You know these waters well,” he said. “What do you make of this?” He punched his finger at a small group of circles toward the edge of the map.

  James’ eyes narrowed on the drawing. “I’m not certain.”

  “No?” Jonathan produced another sheet of parchment, lining it up with the edge of the map. Quickly, he added another few larger shapes. “How about now?”

  James stared at it blankly for a moment and inhaled sharply. “The Dogs.”

  “Aye,” Jonathan agreed, once again pointing at the small group of islands. “I thought I recognized the configuration. If these are The Dogs, then this . . .” His finger trailed to the coast of a larger island to the east.

  “Virgin Gorda.”

  “Aye.”

  Rina watched the interaction with interest. “Are you saying you know what these are? I mean, you know where these are?”

  Jonathan nodded and turned to Max. “Set sail for Virgin Gorda, but keep a weather eye open for Kane. I don’t want him to know we’re coming.”

  The first mate nodded and left the room, followed quickly by Sam and James. Jonathan bent over the map again to study the drawing of the coin. Rina took a seat across the desk from him and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

  “I don’t want anyone else to know about the coin,” he said. “Not yet. Not until it’s absolutely necessary.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his chin in his palm. “Somebody led Kane to us at the Red Pearl, and I fear it would have to be somebody on this ship. The coin is our only advantage over Kane right now. He doesn’t know we have it, and I aim to keep it that way.”

  “Surely you don’t suspect Max?”

  “No. Of course not. But I still think it wise to keep the coin between us for now.”

  Rina wasn’t sure if she should feel flattered by Jonathan’s trust or wonder if he was trying to test her in some way. If Kane did learn of the coin, after all, the circle of blame would be exceedingly small. In other words, on her.

  Jonathan seemed to read her mind. “I don’t suspect you either, Smith.”

  “Of course not. No reason to, after all.”

  “Just thought you should know.” His lips quirked a bit. “Come here.”

  “I am here.”

  “No,” Jonathan said, pushing his chair back and gesturing to his lap. “Come here.”

  Rina’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your lap has been a bit busy lately. I wouldn’t wish to overtax it.”

  Jonathan’s brows rose. “I told you. Flora is only a friend.”

  “A friend who sits on your lap,” Rina snapped, feeling a bit like a nagging fishwife, but unable to help herself. Jonathan, for his part, seemed to find her state rather amusing, something that only served to irritate her more.

  “It’s not funny,” she muttered.

  “Smith . . .”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Sarina,” he began again. “You’re too far away for this conversation. Come here. Please.”

  With an exasperated huff, Rina got to her feet and circled the desk. She refused to sit on his lap, however, and simply leaned back against the desk next to Jonathan, eyes focused on the floor. He reached out and took her hand in both of his.

  “Look at me.”

  Slowly, stubbornly, she raised her gaze, her chin jutting out slightly. Jonathan smiled.

  “It’s not funny,” she grumbled again.

  “It is,” he protested. “It’s exceedingly funny that you could think Flora could be any kind of rival for my affections.”

  “You seemed pretty affectionate.”

  “Habit, nothing else,” he replied. “Shoving her off my lap would have been out of character and drawn undue attention.”

  Rina almost smiled at the picture of Jonathan doing just that, but the urge passed quickly.

  “Did you . . . have you . . .” She reddened and tried to pull her hand free, but Jonathan held it fast.

  “What?” he asked, searching her face. “You mean me? With Flora?”

  “Never mind,” she said abruptly. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “There’s nothing to know,” he said. “Nothing recently, at least.” When she blushed and looked away, he rubbed his thumb against her wrist gently. “I am an imperfect man, Sarina. I have a past.”

  “I know that.”

  “But I haven’t been with Flora in that way in years,” he added. “With anyone in months . . . long before I met you.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “It is,” he said, and when he tugged on her arm this time, she allowed him to pull her into his lap. “I’ve never . . . been with a lady before. This is new to me.”

  She met his gaze, finally, with a small smile lifting her lips. “It’s new to me as well.”

  He reached up to touch her cheek. “I can’t offer you much, but I can promise to be true for as long as this lasts.”

  It was less than she wanted, but more than she expected. Sarina had no illusions of fairy tale endings and happily ever afters with Jonathan Tremayne. Still, a part of her mourned that this would be a short-lived tryst, and one day just a magical memory she would relive on lonely evenings.

  No, there would be no other for her. Of that she was certain. Who else could inflame and antagonize her so? Who else could stimulate such passion and exhilarating pleasure? She could fight it, of course, and try to retain some semblance
of decorum and innocence. But why save herself for a husband she would never have, nor want? Rina had to admit that entertaining the thought was useless, if not utterly absurd.

  Because she didn’t want to fight it. Jonathan made her feel alive, her blood pumping hot and heavy through her veins like it never had before. Whether arguing with him about his stubborn views or blushing over his teasing or melting under his hot gaze and lingering touch, Rina couldn’t resist how he made her feel. Perhaps it was selfish. Perhaps it was stupid. But she doubted she could stop even if she wanted to.

  She would take what he offered, for as long as he offered it, and when it was over? She would hold the memory close to her heart.

  He watched her intently, trying to read her thoughts through her expression, so she offered him a teasing smile. “All right then, Captain. But that means no more wenches on your lap—or anywhere else on your person for that matter.” She leaned down saucily, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “I don’t like to share.” She felt his lips twitch under hers.

  “Aye, sir,” he murmured.

  “Sir?” Her lips swept across his swiftly to the other corner. “Surely you can do better than that.”

  “Mmm . . .” He captured her mouth with a teasing nibble and caught her gasp in a searing kiss. “Better?” he asked.

  Her heart pounded as she tried to catch enough breath to speak. “Much.”

  Jonathan grinned and was about to kiss her again when Rina pressed a hand against his chest, stilling him. Her eyes took on an unfocused glaze, and she blinked hard a few times.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Just . . . wait . . .” Something nagged at the edge of her thoughts, and she turned on his lap to reach for the map. “I was just thinking about these numbers.”

  Jonathan’s lips brushed against the nape of her neck. “Really? I must be losing my touch.”

  Rina ignored him, tracing a finger over the numbers: 43, 14, 6.

  “All of the other relics are engraved with a Scripture passage,” she said. “The cutlass has the Genesis verse. The locket’s passage is from Revelation. From the sketches, we know the cup is engraved with a verse from the Psalms.”

  Jonathan straightened, abandoning seduction for the moment. “But not the coin.”

  She smiled. “Not the coin.”

  “Unless . . .” Jonathan’s gaze drifted to the numbers on the map. “We need a Bible.” He shifted, and Rina quickly got up from his lap. He crossed the room to the large chest and opened it, digging through and tossing contents here and there.

  “You actually have a Bible in there?” she asked wryly.

  “I am a man of many interests, Smith,” he muttered in response, holding up a worn volume with a victorious smile. He placed it on the desk, and they huddled over it.

  “It can’t be page numbers,” Rina thought out loud. “It must be book, chapter, verse?” She looked up at Jonathan questioningly, and he nodded in response.

  “The forty-third book is . . .” Jonathan flipped through the Bible, counting under his breath. “The Gospel of St. John.”

  “Go to chapter fourteen, verse six,” Rina said, gripping his arm in excitement.

  “I’m trying, Smith. Calm yourself.” He turned to the page, reading it in silence.

  Rina rolled her eyes and read it out loud. “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth and the life. No one cometh unto the Father, but by Me.” She read it again and frowned. “So, what on earth does that mean?”

  Jonathan shoved the Bible away. “I’ve absolutely no idea. I swear if Mellick wasn’t dead already, I’d have him hung from the yard arm!”

  Rina snorted. “Well, I might fight you for that honor, but I’ve no doubt it means something. We just have to figure out what.” She was convinced they’d correctly interpreted the numbers and felt no little pride at the fact. “We’re getting close, Jonathan. I can feel it.”

  Despite his frustration, Jonathan smiled. “Aye, Smith. I do believe you’re right.”

  “Come about! Steady as she goes!” As the crew rushed to obey his orders, Jonathan peered at the island through his spyglass, the shape of the Abaddon’s Curse easily recognizable near the shore of Virgin Gorda, even from the distance. The Arrow stuck close to the coastline, and Jonathan hoped his evasive maneuvers were sufficient. Kane, after all, would not expect him, and was most likely focused on the task at hand. In short, following the instructions on the map.

  With practiced precision, the crew of the Arrow brought the ship around the far side of Virgin Gorda, rounding Moskito Island and dropping anchor in Saddle Bay, a peninsula separating them from where the Curse was anchored. Once the ship was secure, Jonathan called the crew to him, a grim look on his face.

  “Today, we retrieve what is ours,” he said, meeting the intent gaze of the crewmen surrounding him. “Today, we finally confront that bastard Kane and show him what the crew of the Arrow is made of.”

  Knowing better than to let out a cheer, the men only nodded, making grumbling noises of assent. Sarina stood off to the side, watching with a slight smile on her face. With a loud squawk, the parrot, Barbarossa, descended from the mizzen mast and landed on Jonathan’s shoulder with a flutter of wings. Jonathan ignored the bird.

  “Our goal is the map,” he said. “Stealth is the key. Keep to the shadows and wait for my orders.” The men nodded and Jonathan grinned. “To the sea!” he commanded, and with a muffled shout, the men rushed to the rope ladder, climbing down into the water with quick precision.

  Sarina appeared at his side, offering a bit of cracker to Barbarossa. “He seems to be growing on you,” she said.

  Jonathan’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay on the ship?” When she smiled in response, he sighed. “I thought not. Well, at least stay close, all right?”

  “Of course,” she said loftily. “Don’t worry, Jonathan. I’ll guard your flank.”

  He smirked as they made their way to the rope ladder. “You have an unhealthy obsession with my flank.”

  “It is a nice flank.”

  Jonathan laughed as they climbed over the gunwale and down the rope ladder to the water. The parrot abandoned him, taking to the air as he swam to shore alongside Sarina and his men.

  They crossed the peninsula in silence, the only sound the soft crunch and swish of sand under their wet boots. Jonathan could spot Max and Hutchins to his right, keeping the men quiet and on task. Ceron stuck close to his side, with Rafferty and Crawley to his left. At the sound of voices, they took cover in the underbrush, Jonathan and Sarina ducking behind a cluster of trees. His jaw tightened when he spotted Kane talking with Barton, and he felt Sarina touch his elbow gently. He turned to see her watching him, eyes wide, and he nodded to reassure her he knew what he was doing.

  He hoped he knew what he was doing.

  His heart pounded as he assessed Kane’s forces—five, no, six men in addition to the captain and Barton. He spotted a few more standing guard on the far side of the clearing, obviously expecting any infiltrators to come from the bay where the Curse was anchored.

  Jonathan smiled. This was going to be easier than he thought. He nodded at Max and saw his first mate take a group of men around to the other side of the clearing. Crawley did the same in the opposite direction. They had Kane’s boarding party outnumbered more than two to one and in moments would have them surrounded. Finally, he’d gotten a leg up on the bastard.

  He counted silently to himself as he slid his sword from its sheath, allowing his men time to get into position, before jerking his head for Sarina to stay behind him. She rolled her eyes—of course—and he fixed her with a steely glare until she relented with a single nod. She moved closer, brushing against his back as she peered around his arm to watch the goings-on in the clearing.

  “Ready?” he whispered. He felt her nod against his shoulder and glanced down to see her gripping a dagger in one hand, ready to draw her sword with the other. He took a deep breath to shout
the order to attack.

  With a squawk and a flurry of feathers, Barbarossa descended from the treetops into the clearing, screaming “Bloody pirate! Bloody pirate!” over and over again. He dove at Kane, knocking his hat from his head, then swooped away onto a high branch.

  “One-Eyed Jack! One-Eyed Jack!” the parrot squawked, flapping its wings. As one, Kane’s men drew their swords, eyes darting toward the tree line.

  Jonathan growled, moving quickly out from behind the tree as his men did the same. “Damned bird,” he muttered. “So much for the advantage of surprise.”

  It didn’t matter much, actually. The crew of the Arrow emerged from the trees with swords drawn, and it only took a moment for Kane to see the futility of fighting. With a curt nod, he and his men dropped their weapons. Kane grinned, though, crossing his arms over his chest as Barton stood beside him.

  “Well, well, well, Jack,” he drawled. “Nice of you to join us.”

  Jonathan’s jaw tightened, and he motioned with his sword. “Give me the map. And the cup while you’re at it.”

  “So rude!” Kane grinned at Barton, who smirked in return. “Just because we’re pirates, Jack, doesn’t mean we can’t act as civilized individuals. It’s been so long. How are you? How’s the family?”

  “The map. And the cup.” Jonathan’s men took a step forward, and Kane held up his hands defensively.

  “No need to get pushy,” he said. “Just trying to make polite conversation. The map, you say?”

  “And the cup while you’re at it.”

  At this, Barbarossa descended from the trees and landed on Jonathan’s shoulder with a loud, “The cup! The cup!”

  Jonathan ignored him, his icy glare focused only on Kane.

  The captain of the Curse, however, seemed unconcerned. “Well, Jack, I don’t think that will be possible. You see, the cup and map are mine. And soon, the cutlass will be as well.”

  Jonathan snorted. “And how do you plan to accomplish that? In case you haven’t noticed, my men have you surrounded.”