“Logan, I want you to take these men around the other side of the wall and go for the archers.”
“Aye. What about ya, Captain?”
Quinn looked over the wall and watched as her crew cut down the oncoming soldiers. “I’ve got to get closer to the fort.”
“Why?”
Quinn looked through her telescope before handing it to him. “Because we have to put those cannons out of commission if the Mal is to get away.”
Logan looked through the scope before handing it back. “They’re already preparing to fire.”
“I know. I need you to bring one of those dead soldiers over here.”
“Aye.”
Logan was back in thirty seconds, and he dumped the body in front of her.
“Perfect. Okay, Logan. Go.”
“Be smart, Callaghan. Our blokes need yas.”
When Logan and his group were gone, Quinn quickly took the clothes off the dead fighter and put them on herself. Then, she followed the wall as far as she could until she was close enough to get in front of the guards at the gate.
“We’re getting killed out there!” she said to the men at the gate. “Who are these people?” Quinn’s English was flawless. Not a trace of Irish to be heard.
“Pirates? Corsairs? I have no idea.”
“We need reinforcements! They’re wiping us out!” Quinn ran passed the guard and through the half-open portcullis, where she met another Englishman who held his hand up. “Halt. I don’t remember seeing you before.”
Quinn wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Sure you have. I told the story last night about bedding Blackmore’s sister. Or were you too pissed to remember?”
The soldier threw his shoulders back. “I was barely drunk.”
“Then how did the tale end?”
“I . . . er . . . ”
Quinn shook her head and started up the stairs. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Get some help out there, man! We’re getting clobbered!”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Quinn found herself on the ramps of the main wall where four cannons were currently being primed and loaded to shoot down at the Malendroke. The bindings that held her breasts down itched from the perspiration, and she wished she had just let them loose on the world.
“Stop right there!” came a deep voice. “You don’t belong up here.”
“We need help out there! Those are pirates or barbarians or something like that are making their way here!”
The soldier frowned. “Help? We sent a hundred and twenty-five men out. There should be no need for help. Now get out of here.” When he turned passed her, she pulled her long sword and ran him through. Then she quickly dispatched the two men priming the last cannon. They were far too slow to get to their weapons, and the element of surprise was to her advantage. The second man spun when she slashed him and fell off the front of the tower, screaming on the way down.
As Quinn righted herself, she saw a dozen archers swing their bows toward her. Ducking behind the cannon, Quinn heard the arrows as they pinged and bounced off the cannon.
Her exits were limited. She could drop from the front wall and hope to not break a leg. That would be a huge hope, of course. She could go back down the stairs, or she could take a few of these Englishmen out before they could reach her and hope that her sacrifice saved both her men and Grace’s crew.
“Hold your fire!” a voice commanded.
The arrows stopped hitting the cannon.
“Come out. You cannot hope to escape. Come out and tell us who you represent before we toss your hide over the wall.”
Quinn pulled out two of her throwing daggers and flipped both over so she held a tip in each hand. “Won’t be my hide that goes over!” Quinn yelled. “And if it does, I’ll take a good lotta ya with me!”
“Don’t be daft! You’re a dead man!”
Quickly rising, Quinn let both daggers fly. One embedded into the chest of the soldier she presumed was the speaker. The second dagger hit the throat of an archer, who toppled backwards before Quinn ducked back down.
She’d counted nine archers and both cannoneers.
“Attack that bastard!” another voice yelled.
Pulling both swords out, Quinn inhaled deeply.
There was no getting out of this, and she was pretty certain she wasn’t leaving here alive.
As she peered over the wall, she could see the Malendroke turning hard to port. One of the masts was on fire and part of the bow was smoking, but other than that, the Malendroke appeared to be making a safe retreat away from the fort.
Quinn calculated the drop would probably kill her at most, break her legs at least, but she knew she couldn’t stay where she was.
Suddenly, she heard more bows firing, with their fftt-fftt sound, but the arrows did not hit the cannon she was hiding behind.
As she peeked up over the cannon, a huge grin crossed her face. Coming up the stairs were Fitz and the others streaming onto the tower ramp, swords flashing and daggers flying.
It was over before it started; the archers were swarmed upon by pirates who chopped them to bits before tossing them over.
“Callaghan!” One Eye yelled, looking around for her.
“Here!” Sheathing her swords, Quinn clapped One Eye hard on the back. “Well met. I was thinking I was gonna have to jump.” Quinn counted her men. “We lose anyone?”
One Eye shook his head. “Not from our group. I couldn’t tell you about the others.”
“Then let’s find out. Come on, men. Let’s make sure we’re all going home.”
All but two were unharmed. One man was bleeding from a thigh wound, another crewman had an arrow protruding from his shoulder.
The English dead were scattered all around, but the pirates stood tall. They were bloodied and somewhat wounded, but they stood together.
“We have to get out of here before enna more of them come back,” Logan said.
Quinn nodded. “The Malendroke has managed to pull away to safety. Her masts caught fire, and it looks like she took a cannonball to the main deck. Other than that, I think Captain O’Malley and the rest of our mates are safe.”
“Fer the moment.”
Quinn glanced at One Eye. “Aye. For the moment. At this moment, we need to hightail it back to the Fortune Teller and see if the Malendroke needs any more help.”
In an instant, they were all out of the castle and quickly back on the small boats and on their way to the smaller ship dwarfed by the Malendroke.
“She is gonna be plenty angry ya came to save her arse,” Tavish said softly.
“She can just rub her sore spot then, Tavish, because where she goes, we go.”
Quinn studied the Malendroke through her telescope. The mast was no longer aflame but was still smoking, which was just as bad because it gave their position away and showed them to be enemies of England.
“How she farin’?” Fitz asked.
“Fires are out, one mast is down. They’re working very hard on the deck. Grace is . . . well, let me just say her hair is whipping around. I’d say we can catch up.”
Fitz chuckled. “Ya want me to get closer with ya on the bow?”
Quinn shook her head. “Raise the Irish flag first. Then I’ll stay out front until she can see me.” Quinn closed the scope and pocketed it before taking her place at the front of the ship.
“Callaghan?”
Quinn turned to Logan. “Aye?”
“Maggie managed to save Gerard, but Sean didn’t make it. The arrow was too close to his heart.”
Quinn nodded. “How’s Maggie taking it?”
“She’s a tough one, that old gal, and disappointed she couldn’t save him. She’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Logan.”
“Pleasure, Captain. I, for one, will be thrilled to be back on board our own ship. This little boat may be fast, but she makes me nervous.”
“Nervous?”
“Callaghan, we have no means of defendin’ ourselves. If it had been
us takin’ a cannonball, we’d be swimmin’ fer shore.”
This made Quinn grin. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Logan. It’s time for us to go home.”
Logan studied her a moment.
“Home, Callaghan? Fer how long? And don’t ya think Captain O’Malley will have something to say about ya comin’ home?”
“I know it might seem like I abandoned you all, but––”
“Seemed like it? It’s been six months, Callaghan. Six months. We watched Captain O’Malley spiral down into the darkness. As long as it took me to get back home, I was sure ya made it back before me.”
“Well, here I am, Logan. I’m back.”
“Fer good?”
Quinn grinned. “I belong on the deck of a ship.”
Logan surprised her by shaking his head. “That is not altogether true, Callaghan. Ya no longer belong on the deck of a ship. Ya should be leadin’ yer own. This last episode kinda proved it.”
“Leading my––”
“Ya should captain yer own ship. It is true ya have learned all ya can from Captain O’Malley. Ya have followed her through the depths of hell and into enemy territory time and time again. Even now, as she makes a rather poor decision to take her very well-known ship right into the queen’s bedchambers, here ya are comin’ to her aid once more.”
“Logan that’s enough. I––”
“It’s not, though. It’s a truth ya must come to terms with before Grace’s actions cost ya more than ya can pay. Ya are not indebted to her enna longer.”
“That is enough, Logan. I’ll not have you disrespect Captain O’Malley in my presence again.”
“I wasn’t speaking as a crew member, Callaghan. I came to ya as a friend.”
“Then as a friend I will remind you that she is our captain, our leader, and our friend. To that end, she deserves the best from each of us.”
“Agreed. So do ya. Don’t forget that.”
Quinn wanted to reply, but Logan was gone before she could say anything.
The captain of her own vessel?
The idea was preposterous. This was a temporary solution to a temporary problem. She’d taken on the task several times, but only when Grace or the crew needed it. The idea that it was something permanent was well out of her reach.
Still, it was nice knowing the men had that much faith in her.
Now, if only she had as much faith in herself.
“She’s seen ya,” Tavish said, looking through his telescope.
“How can you tell?”
“She looked, then lowered her scope, looked again, then dropped her arms to her side. She kens it’s ya, lad, and right about now, she’s tryin’ to decide whether to hug ya or to punch ya right in the face.”
Tavish folded his scope up, a gift from Maggie the second week he sat on the deck. “Can’t blame her, aye?”
Quinn lowered her head slightly. “Aye.”
“Well, ya can go ’round and ’round about the past, or ya can cut it loose and move on.”
“I guess it’s up to her, aye?”
“Always has been, Callaghan. The question is whether or not she’s gonna forgive ya. That woman, as ya ken, can have a heart of stone at times.”
“Aye, she can. I can only hope she has a soft place for me.”
He chuckled. “Ya’ve always been her Achilles heel, lad. My guess is she’ll be happy as hell to see ya, especially since she and the crew could verra well be at the bottom of the river without ya.”
“I guess we’re gonna see soon enough.”
Soon enough came less than an hour later when Quinn, Fitz, Tavish, and One Eye boarded the Malendroke to a hearty round of hugs and claps on the back from their old crew.
As the sea of men parted, Quinn stood fifteen feet from Grace O’Malley, whose fiery red hair, now with a couple grey streaks, blew in the wind. A tall woman, Grace stood with shoulders back, spine erect, looking like a captain now and not a friend.
Quinn thought Grace looked tired and worse for wear. She had bags under her eyes, and her face was more angular as if she’d lost weight. She simply looked tired.
Immediately, Quinn cut her gaze over to Innis, Grace’s first, and nodded once. Innis returned the gesture.
“So, yer alive and captainin’ yer own ship with my crew?” Grace said coldly, her arms across her chest. She was always a forceful presence; a power emanated through her and around her, but Quinn was not afraid. Grace O’Malley was many things—captain, warrior, queen—but enemy was not one of those.
“No, sir. Alive, aye, but I am captaining a borrowed ship with your crew in the hopes of assisting you on a dangerous trip through enemy territory that is arguably the worst decision you’ve ever made is why I stand before you right now. We already lost one man trying to assist you.”
No one moved.
Quinn kept her gaze on Grace’s and waited.
“Who?”
“Sean. He took an arrow at the fort.”
“That was ya attackin’ the fort?” Grace asked.
Quinn nodded. “It was us, sir. We came up behind you and took to land as soon as we saw the smoke from the ship.”
Grace looked up the face of each man who had come with Quinn from the Fortune Teller. “I see. And I suppose ya want a pat on the back fer it?”
“We want nothing but for our mates to have safe travel.”
Grace scratched her chin. “I see. We have risked my turncoat crew to assist me unbidden?” Turning to the men standing next to Quinn, she said, “Ya disobeyed my orders. Ya stole a ship. Ya risked the lives of our crew, and yer followin’ the orders of another captain. Tell me why I shouldn’t toss the lot a ya overboard.”
Quinn blinked slowly. What madness was this? Surely Grace was kidding.
“Captain, we––”
Grace cut her off with a wave of a hand. “Not askin’ ya, Callaghan. I want to hear from one of these men why I shouldn’t throw them overboard fer mutiny . . . fer mutiny it was plain and simple.”
“Mutiny?” Tavish asked, stepping forward. “Have ya gone and lost yer mind since I been gone, Grace? That whole ship of men already risked their lives chasin’ after ya to help yer crew, their friends. They needed a captain and chose Callaghan.”
“Step away, Tavish,” Grace admonished. “I want to hear from an Irishman.”
Fitz stepped next to Tavish. “Tavish speaks the truth, Captain. The men had me go find Callaghan in the hopes he could talk ya out of this. Once I––”
“Talk me out of this? Fer Christ’s sake, man, my son is gonna hang fer treason if I can’t get that bitch to free him. There’s no talkin’ me out of savin’ my son. This is no game, Fitz. This is my family and––”
“And family sticks together,” Fitz added, stepping shoulder to shoulder with Tavish. “And yer the one who made each of us believe that Callaghan is part of this family, and we sent for her because this risk yer takin’ is unsure and insane. When we realized, too late, that ya’d already gone, we grabbed Callaghan, a ship, and Big Red and cut water to get to the Mal in case this went belly up on ya. Callaghan deserves a pat on the back, sir, fer getting another ship on the water so quickly.”
Grace unfolded her arms. “Oh, do ya now?”
Fitz and Tavish nodded.
“Innis, lock these three in a hold.”
Innis’s head jerked around. “Sir?”
“I won’t have mutineers on the deck of my ship. Ya were good, loyal men once, but now? Now I am not so sure. I will not risk my crew or my ship on revolters who can’t even see the errors of their ways or admit their mistakes.
Quinn stood, dumbfounded. “Grace––”
“That’s Captain O’Malley to those who do not sail with us.”
“Captain––” Innis started. “If they hadn’t come when they did––”
“Are ya questionin’ my orders, as well, Innis? If so, I can make room fer another down below. I won’t have ennaone on my ship questionin’ my orders. Not now, not ever.”
>
Innis cut a look to Quinn.
“Captain O’Malley, I think you might wish to reconsider such an egregious act against your own men.” Quinn laid her hand on the hilt of her sword, unsure if she had what it took to drawn on her old friend. As captain of the Fortune Teller, it was incumbent on her to protect the men Grace was dragging below. Quinn knew she could let that happen. If push came to shove, she would push back. Hard.
The move did not go unnoticed by Grace. “Innis, take Captain Callaghan below with her men before blood is shed.”
Innis did not move.
“Innis?” Grace glared at him. “I gave ya a command.”
Innis shook his head almost sadly. “I won’t do it, Captain. I’m sorry. These—those men on that ship over there are our crewmates. Men who risked everrathin’ to come after us. We could be at the bottom of this accursed river if it wasn’t fer them. I won’t throw them in the hold. I . . . I can’t.”
Grace snapped her fingers to a crewman named Beardsley. “Beard—ya are now first mate. Take them below.”
Beard, a man with a large, mangy black beard, shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I will not. I have to agree with Innis about these men. They are not our enemy.”
Quinn could not stand to see Grace lose face like this, so she stepped up to her and said, “Just let us go back to the Fortune Teller, Grace, and you can continue on with your suicide. This doesn’t have to end poorly.”
Grace replied through grit teeth, “And have ya follow us up the Thames? I hardly think so, Callaghan. I don’t need the likes of ya all trailin’ behind us. I gave these blokes orders, and they disobeyed them. Ya turn that ship around and sail out of my sight and then ya can return to get them from a rowboat. That is my only offer. Ya have ten seconds to consider.”
Quinn made eye contact with Tavish, who looked helplessly back at her. She released her hilt and threw her shoulders back. “Not acceptable, Captain. Either all of us who boarded return to the Fortune Teller, or none of us do. I’ll not leave my men here in the hold of a ship that probably won’t make it to its destination.”
Grace threw back her head and laughed, “Yer men? Oh, that’s rich! That’s incredibly rich, Callaghan, that ya think enna of these men would follow ya over me. Well, maybe Big Red here, but as a Scot, he doesn’t count. Fine. Live together, die together, eh, Callaghan?” Grace turned to her crew. “One hundred pieces of gold to the man who tosses this raggedy-ass group into the hold.”
Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 5