The Sea Sprite

by Ruth Langan

  He gave her that quick, dangerous smile. “Aye, Captain. In a while.”

  “Gryf…” She saw him straighten and raise his sword. By the time she’d turned, he’d sent an attacker falling backward, the hilt of his sword still buried in the pirate’s chest.

  Gryf met her look. “You were saying, Captain?”

  She bent and retrieved his sword, then handed it to him. “Stay close. I need you to guard my back.”

  “Aye, Captain. It’s such a lovely back, it would be a shame to see it marred.” He stumbled after her as she hurried to join in yet another fight.

  For what seemed hours the battle went on, as the crew of the Undaunted stood up to the band of pirates determined to take possession of their ship and its bounty. But though they fought bravely, they were outnumbered five to one. The pirate ship had taken on fresh recruits, who were eager for blood. The element of surprise had further weakened the resistance of Darcy’s crew.

  As the fighting dragged on, Darcy and her men could feel their strength waning.

  Though Darcy had sustained several minor wounds, they were nothing compared with some of the others. She feared for her crew. Newton had been dueling with men half his age. Gryf was hanging on despite a gaping wound to the shoulder that was obviously draining him. Several of the crew lay moaning against the rail, holding torn strips of cloth to bloody wounds. The deck was spattered with their blood. Were the wounds minor or deadly? There wasn’t even a moment to see. Like a swarm of angry bees, each time one pirate was driven overboard, two more stepped up to take his place.

  And each time the pirates looked as though they might begin to fall back, their captain’s voice would order them to pick up the slack.

  Darcy glanced across the distance that separated their two ships. Wylie York kept himself above the fray, remaining aboard the Sinner, and watching from the safety of the ship’s wheel.

  “Come on, mates.” His voice boomed through the fog and mist. “Are you going to let a female and her lowly crew best you? Put some muscle into this, so we can be on our way.”

  “Coward,” Darcy shouted. “Are you afraid to face our swords yourself?”

  “Afraid?” His voice came bouncing back like a hollow echo. “You’re the ones who’d best fear for your lives. For we’re not leaving until every sailor aboard your ship is lying in his own blood.”

  “Someone needs to silence that lout’s roar.” Newton backed an opponent against the rail and gave the pirate a choice to die or leap to safety. As so many others had done, the man jumped over the rail and landed in the frothy waves below, hoping one of his shipmates would throw him a lifeline.

  “I agree.” Gryf, leaning weakly against the rail after defeating yet another opponent, looked to Darcy. His face was ashen, and she could see the pain he was struggling to ignore. “Let me try to take him, Captain.”

  “Nay, Gryf. You’d be inviting death. Besides, you’re needed here.”

  “Then I’ll go, lass.” Newton turned away. Just then a blade slashed the old man’s good leg, sending him sprawling on the deck.

  “Newt!” Darcy was by his side, dropping to her knees. “Hold on, Newt.” In one quick movement she tore the scarf from her neck and began wrapping it around the old man’s leg to stem the river of blood.

  “Behind ye, lass.”

  Before she could react Gryf was there beside her, plunging his sword into the man who’d been about to attack. The pirate dropped to the deck, but not before sending his own sword into Gryf’s side. With a grunt of pain Gryf dropped to his knees and struggled to remove the weapon.

  Three more pirates stepped over their dead comrade and lifted their swords. Darcy picked up Newton’s weapon and in one smooth motion got to her feet, facing her attackers.

  “Now, isn’t this interesting?” The voice sent shivers along Darcy’s spine as she found herself looking into the feral eyes of Wylie York. “I’ve been hoping I could do battle with the famous female.”

  “But only if the odds are in your favor.” Instead of backing away as he’d expected, this bold little female faced him without flinching. “I see you waited until my crew was too weakened by battle to be a threat to you.”

  “That’s how I got to be captain of my ship. By calculating the odds. Now—” he motioned to the pirates standing on either side of him “—hold that man.” He pointed to Gryf. “I wouldn’t want him to try to be a hero.”

  At once the two pirates grabbed Gryf, holding him when he tried to fight back. For good measure two more dragged Newton aside and stood over him, in case he attempted to stand.

  Wylie York motioned to two more pirates. “Now hold the woman. I intend to teach her a lesson.”

  With Gryf and Newt forced to watch helplessly, the pirate captain lifted his sword to the neckline of Darcy’s shirt and expertly slashed it open.

  “Well, now. Isn’t this interesting?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowed on the expanse of lovely flesh, covered only by a sheer chemise. “It seems a pity to hide all this beauty under such drab clothing. Why aren’t you warming some Englishman’s bed, woman?”

  “Because I’d rather be sailing the seas, cutting out the hearts of pirates like you.”

  He threw back his head and roared. “Oh, my. Such an outspoken female. If you’d been my mate, I’d have seen to it that you learned your proper place.”

  “It’s fortunate for you that you aren’t my mate. For I’d have plunged my blade into your heart the first time you touched me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A word of warning, woman. You’re still alive only because I’ve permitted it. And when I give the order, you’ll die, just like all the others who litter this deck.”

  “Then give the word. I’d rather die quickly than have my men watch this game you play.”

  “Would you now?” He laughed again, a chilling, high-pitched sound that sent ice along the spines of all who heard. “But you see, woman, the game has just begun. And I’m the one making all the rules.”

  He turned to his men. “How many of you would care to sample the woman’s charms?”

  “I would, Captain.” A lean young pirate chuckled, showing a gap where his teeth had once been.

  “Aye,” called another, with a missing arm. “Count me in, Captain.”

  An old pirate, with long black hair and a face badly scarred from battle shouted, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one as lovely as this female.”

  The others nodded in agreement until their voices were a loud roar of approval.

  Wylie York turned to her. “You see? Now I suggest you show them just what they’ll be enjoying.” He pressed the tip of his sword to her heart. “Let’s remove the rest of these clothes.”

  Before he could cut through the ribbons of her chemise, Whit suddenly dashed on deck and raced to Darcy’s side. “Don’t touch her, Uncle.”

  At the gleam in the pirate captain’s eyes, Darcy felt a wave of horror. This was the one thing she’d most dreaded. She’d hoped, prayed, that the lad would follow orders and stay hidden.

  “Go back, lad.” Her voice rang with all the righteous anger she could muster. “I ordered you below-decks.”

  “Nay, Captain. It’s me he wants. Not you.” Though he was trembling violently, Whit lifted his chin. “So come and get me, Uncle.” He opened his hand, revealing a knife. “But before you do, before you touch me or my captain, you’ll have to fight me.”

  “Now what do you think you’re going to do with that? Stick me?” York grinned at the circle of pirates, who joined in his laughter. “You sniveling little coward. You don’t have the courage.”

  “You think not?” Whit’s voice trembled, mirroring the fear that was in his eyes.

  “Look at you. You’re shivering like a leaf in the wind.”

  “Aye. I may be afraid. But I’d rather die than ever let you touch my captain.”

  “Your death can easily be arranged, little fool.” The pirate captain lunged, and Whit surprised even himself by standing hi
s ground and slashing out with the blade of his knife. It bit into the pirate’s arm, sending him jumping back.

  At the sight of his own blood, York’s eyes narrowed. His smile was wiped from his face. “Now you’ll have to suffer before you die, boy. You think I beat you the last time? That was nothing compared with what I intend to do to you this time. I’ll beat you and stomp you until there’s nothing left but a pile of stinking, rotting flesh.”

  As he advanced, he heard a snarl, seconds before small sharp teeth were imbedded in his ankle. He gave a yelp of surprise and looked down to find a yellow puppy latched onto his leg.

  “Fearless! Nay!” Whit shouted.

  “Fearless? This useless cur? Is he yours?”

  “Aye.” Whit’s eyes were round with surprise and fear.

  “A pity.” The pirate captain gave a vicious kick, sending the pup flying across the deck with a yelp. “That’s one more thing you’ll have to pay for, boy.”

  As Wylie York advanced, the pup came charging back, teeth bared, and a low growl issuing from its throat.

  This time the man picked up the pup and slammed it against the rail of the ship, where it gave a series of yelps before falling strangely silent.

  “You’ve killed him!” Tears streamed from Whit’s eyes as he stared at the still form of his pet, lying in a heap on the deck. When Whit turned back to his uncle, he could hardly see through the flood of tears. “I promised him I’d always take care of him. And now you’ve killed him.”

  “Well, just so you don’t have to miss him too much…” With his sword uplifted, York started toward the boy. “I’ll allow you to join him. You and I are going to settle this thing between us once and for all, you miserable little whelp.” His eyes glittered with madness. “Do you know why I beat you? Why I hated you? Because you look just like your mother. A pretty thing she was, but thought herself too good for the likes of me. She told me she’d never let me touch her. But I showed her. I took her by force. And when I was through with her, she knew she was no better than a tavern wench. But when I went off to sea, she ran away. It took me some years to find her, and when I did, it was too late. She was more dead than alive. She boasted that she’d beaten me. But I wasn’t through with her yet. When I learned that she had a son, I knew I’d found the perfect vengeance.” He laughed. A high, shrill sound that left no doubt of his madness. “And here you are. A sniveling little coward who ran away just like his mother.”

  The boy’s chin lifted. “At least now I understand. You hate me because of my mother.”

  The pirate captain lifted his head and hooted with laughter. “Nay, little fool. I don’t hate you because you’re your mother’s son. I hate you because you’re mine. And I’m about to do to you what I should have done to her, so that you’d have never been born.”

  Even the pirates, accustomed as they were to violence, seemed shaken by the venom in their captain’s voice. And by the madness in his eyes.

  Darcy watched in horror as Whit swiped a dirty hand at his tears and faced this man who claimed to be his father with nothing more than the small knife.

  Once again the boy managed to inflict a minor wound, which only added to Wylie York’s fury.

  “That was your last chance, boy. Now you can join your mother.” York thrust his sword with all the strength he could muster.

  It pierced the lad’s chest and sent him reeling backward, where he lay on the deck beside the body of his pet.

  At the horror of the scene before her, Darcy heard a long, piercing scream, and realized it was her own voice. The sound went on and on as she stared at the sight of the little boy and the puppy, lying in an ever-widening pool of blood.

  Grief and rage poured through her, filling her with an unbelievable well of strength. Added to that was the shock of the pirates, who seemed caught in the grip of panic at the sight of their captain attacking his own flesh and blood.

  In a frenzy Darcy twisted free of the hands holding her and charged toward the pirate captain with nothing more than her bare fists.

  With a laugh Wylie York pulled his sword from the boy’s small body and lifted it over his head. “Come on, woman. This ought to be interesting, since it isn’t even a contest.”

  Darcy braced herself for the pain she knew would come. But before York could bring his weapon down, he suddenly stiffened.

  Feeling the white-hot thrust of pain in his back, he whirled. And found himself staring at Gryf, who was leaning weakly against the rail. Like Darcy, he’d taken advantage of the moment to break free of the pirates who’d been holding him.

  “I’ll regret to my dying day that I wasn’t able to save the boy. But I’ll gladly welcome my own death, rather than allow you to harm the woman.” Gryf’s voice was oddly hollow, and all who watched could see what it cost him to continue standing, as blood poured from his wound. “England’s ships need never have to fear you again, York.”

  As the pirate captain dropped to the deck, Gryf held himself upright for another minute, before sinking to his knees. He was helpless to defend himself against the pirates who, after a moment’s hesitation, took up their weapons.

  With a cry Darcy reached into her boot and tossed her knife at the pirate who was about to attack Gryf. Then, propelled by a fierce black rage, she plucked a sword from the deck and proceeded to drive the rest of the pirates over the rail one after the other. When at last there was only silence, she looked around at the carnage as if in a daze.

  Newton and Gryf were kneeling over the lad, struggling to stem the flow of blood.

  “Is he—?” She couldn’t bring herself to speak the word. It was too hideous to imagine.

  Gryf shook his head. “Not dead. There’s a heartbeat, however faint. But the wound is grave.”

  Darcy dropped down beside him, unaware of the tears that streamed down her face to mingle with the blood. “We need to get him to my cabin.”

  “Aye, lass.” Newton pulled himself up to the rail and stared around at the destruction. “And we must assess the wounds of the others, as well.”

  “I’ll see to them.” She wrapped her arms around the old man and closed her eyes a moment. “Are you all right, Newt?”

  “I am.” He touched her hair, then drew her face up so that he could look into her eyes. “And you?”

  She nodded. “Oh, Newt. What a terrible mess I’ve made of things.”

  “Here now.” He took a deep breath. “We’re in this together, lass. We’ll see it through. First we’ll deal with the wounded. Then we must get the lad some help, as quickly as possible.”

  “Aye. But how? Where? He needs much more than we can give him aboard ship.”

  “Aye.” Newton looked up at the thin streams of sunlight that had broken through the fog. There on the distant horizon was a dark shadow that could only be land.

  He lay a gnarled hand against her cheek. “Pray our courageous lad lives long enough for us to take him to the best place of all, lass. Home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Has he moved, Gryf?”

  Darcy returned from above deck, where she had assessed the damage. Now she stood peering at the pale lad lying so still on her bunk.

  “Not yet. But he’s still alive.” Gryf scrubbed his hands over his face in a gesture of weariness. “Darcy, he needs more than I can give him.”

  “Aye. And more than I can give him, as well. Our best hope is to keep him alive until we make land.”

  She pointed to her chair. “Sit here and I’ll have a look at your wound.”

  “It’s nothing. See to the others.”

  “I’ll see to you. Sit.”

  “How much damage is there?” Gryf sat and watched without emotion as Darcy cut away his shirt and began to bathe his shoulder.

  Once again she was jolted by the scars that crisscrossed his back. No wonder he didn’t complain about this wound. He was no stranger to pain.

  “No one is dead. But every member of the crew has at least minor wounds. Fielding is tending them, begin
ning with the most serious.”

  “And the Undaunted?”

  “We’re taking on water from the damage sustained when the Sinner rammed us. Several of the crew will have to remain in the hold to bail at all times until we make shore. We managed to pry the two ships apart. The Sinner is quickly sinking, but we unlashed its skiff and set it in the water, in case there are any survivors. So far we’ve seen none. I doubt any could survive the frigid waters for more than a few minutes.”

  She continued bathing his wound until it was clean. “We salvaged what we could from the pirate ship. A good many weapons, including another cannon. In the hold we found gold and jewels, and something even better.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a flask of whiskey.

  “Ah, now, there’s what I need.”

  Before he could reach for it she snatched it away. “Nay. I’ll let you drink some after I use it.” She poured a liberal amount on his wound and heard his hiss of pain. “Sorry. But it was necessary. Now…” She tilted the flask to his mouth and watched as he took a long pull.

  After a moment he lowered it. “Is there more for the others?”

  “Aye. Several jugs of ale, in fact. Enough for all the crew to deaden their pain.”

  Gryf glanced over at the small, still figure on the bunk. “If only we could deaden Whit’s pain as easily.”

  She finished dressing Gryf’s wound, then crossed to the boy and touched a hand to his forehead. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She was, after all, captain of this ship. She needed to be strong for her crew. But there was a horrible fear growing inside her. A fear that the lad was beyond help. “He’s burning with fever.”

  “Aye.” Seeing the fear in her eyes Gryf stood and gathered her close. “Don’t despair, Darcy. Hold on to the thought that he’s young and strong.”

  “But he was so brave. And if he’d stayed here in my cabin, he would have been safe.”

  “Perhaps. But by coming above deck and facing his worst nightmare, he also saved the rest of us. It was the bold action of Whit and Fearless that gave us that one small opportunity to fight back.”