Gunpowder & Gold (Justified Treason, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  In silence we all stared at the tiny creature as he took his first breaths of life. Even though this unexpected event had ruined my day, there was no way to deny that the moment was awe-inspiring. The sight of Charlie’s tear-filled eyes somehow deepened the state of my dumbstruck trance. Amidst the mess of blood and slime, her face gleamed with a heavenly glow as she handed the sobbing young girl her crying baby. It was then that I decided it wouldn’t be so bad a thing to give my wife a child of her own.

  Though Charlie, Marty and Lydia began doting over the newfound mother and child with no regard for the danger at hand, I had not forgotten that Black Rose had just killed a nobleman in front of his wife, who was indeed a governor’s daughter.

  Grabbing Charlie’s arm, I said, “This shit’s over. Your good deed is done, and now we need to decide how to deal with the witness.” I looked deep into her tear-stained eyes. “And keep in mind that you might not be able to buy yourself out of this crime.”

  Charlie wriggled free of my hold on her and returned to Lydia’s side. Lydia was helping her sister nurse the baby, her face flooded with tears of pain and joy. Kneeling beside her, Charlie said, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, Lydia, but I did it to protect your sister.”

  “Protect her from what?” Lydia cried.

  Wiping the blood off of her blade, Charlie coldly responded to Lydia, “Lord Abbott Thatcher planted that seed in your sister’s womb and he wanted to kill them both before she had a chance to tell anyone that he defiled her.”

  Lydia’s jaw dropped. Pain seared her voice as she yelled at her sister, “Is that true, Leah?”

  Clutching her baby tightly, Leah wept. “It is true, Lydia. But I didn’t want to be with him. He raped me, over and over, and he swore he would kill me if I ever told you or Father.”

  “No. It can’t be true.” Lydia held her hand over her mouth.

  “It is.” Leah shook her head. “And now I have this child to forever remind me of the pain.”

  Balling up her fists, Lydia screamed, “I hate Abbott for doing this!” She looked at Marty. “What will we do now? My father will have to call off the wedding. The whole town will know Leah is ruined and no one will ever want her or that child bred of sin.”

  Appearing entirely offended by Lydia’s view of the baby, Charlie’s eyes widened. Marty took Charlie by the hand and led her away from the women. Putting her arm over Charlie’s shoulder, she whispered something to her. I could not hear the words spoken, but judging by the way Charlie was nodding her head, it seemed to make sense to her.

  Once she looked to have her wits about her again, Charlie took a deep breath and knelt before the weeping woman and held her hand. “Listen, Lydia. Though I do not agree with the way the world will view this precious child, I understand the harsh reality that you will be facing once you get to Jamaica. This unfortunate circumstance leaves you with very few options, but I do have a solution in mind for you. But before I offer my services, I need you to promise that you will never tell a soul that I was the one who killed Lord Abbot Thatcher.”

  “I won’t tell.” She shook her head. “You saved my sister’s life and baby, Black Rose. I will gladly keep your secret if you can truly help her.”

  Charlie asked me to bring her a quill and a piece of parchment. As I shuffled through the messy room looking for what she needed, I heard her say to Lydia, “I am good friends with a man named Kasey Bolin. I will give you the information needed to find him, and will send with you a letter explaining that you are friends of mine who are in need of his mother’s assistance. He will gladly guide you to Anna Bolin’s place in the Jamaican countryside. She will welcome this beautiful baby with open arms and will happily find a family who will love and care for him without judgment over the way he was made.”

  Turning white as a ghost, Lydia stuttered, “Oh my, I, I have heard of that place. But I don’t want to go there. They say there is a warlock who eats the babies who are born into the witch’s hands. And, and they bury the remains in that ghastly graveyard where a cold, black wind always blows.”

  Charlie patted Lydia’s hand. “You just spoke the key words, my dear. No one goes there. My specific directions will offer you a safe and silent escort to the shelter where that cold, black wind will shield your secret and this baby from the wicked world.”

  Lydia locked gazes with her sister. Both of their faces were flush with worry. After they whispered back and forth for a moment, Lydia returned to Charlie. “I will take the letter, Black Rose. Thank you.”

  I handed Charlie the parchment. As she wrote the note, Marty gave Leah a few tips on how to tend to the baby while he was in her care, and promised to stay with her until Abilene was ready to sail away. While they finished up, I covered Thatcher’s body with a sheet so the women wouldn’t have to be haunted by the sight of his dead eyes. But I’d leave his corpse for Raymond Hayes to deal with. I had dealt with enough for the day. My work here was done.

  Returning to the deck, where the sun was now beating down on the timbers and the squawking gulls were flocking towards the nearby island, I took a deep breath. Though I figured there was no way anything in the hold could be heavy enough to account for the weight of bullshit we’d just endured, I hoped my crewmen would be able to report to me otherwise.

  As Charlie and I walked across the main deck, the men hard at work stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Her stride was determined, her shoulders were held in a proud stance, and her expression was stone cold. Bloodstains and gunpowder marred her cheeks. Her turquoise and gold coat was splattered with blood, along with her hands. Some belonged to the man she had killed, and some from the baby she had cradled without concern for the mess. But me, ah, all I had done was throw up like a wee babe myself, and a little bit of vomit on my coat sleeve was the proof.

  While cursing to myself about being Black Rose’s cabin boy, I saw Yakob escorting a bald little man with his hands tied. The moment Yakob saw me, he walked the little fellow in my direction. Patting the man’s bald head, Yakob said, “We found this doctor and the men have voted to keep him. I am not sure I like him, though. He is mean. When I found him hiding, he stabbed me with a surgical tool.” Yakob showed me the stab wound on his forearm.

  Still unsure of the condition our injured men were in on Wicked Rose, I patted the doctor on the back. “We’ll be happy to have your services aboard, mate.”

  “I don’t want to join your crew.” He jerked away from me. “In fact, I would rather die a slow death in a leech-infested ditch than have anything to do with your kind.”

  Humored by his dramatics, and the fact that he had stabbed Yakob, I said, “All right then, Doctor Stabs—”

  “That is not my name!” he yelled.

  “It is now. Like it or not, you’ll be serving our crew as the surgeon. Our master sailor doubles as a healer, but I’d rather have him up in the yards than down in the sick bay. Welcome aboard.” I nudged him towards Yakob then headed over to let Captain Raymond Hayes know what he was dealing with.

  Finding him among the other surrendered men, I pulled him away from the group.

  “What happened in there?” he growled through his teeth.

  “Don’t you worry about the details. All you need to know is that the women are fine and are now back in your care. Baby in tow.”

  “Baby?” His eyes widened with shock.

  “You didn’t know?” I went on to explain everything I knew about the ridiculous story. Minus Thatcher’s fate.

  “I didn’t know any of that.” Raymond shook his head in disgust. “I hadn’t seen that girl but one time during this journey. No wonder they were hiding her away like that. What happened to Thatcher?”

  “Well, my father often told me there was a special place in Hell for men who hurt women and children, so I reckon Thatcher’s getting burned up real good right now. But listen, it’s rather important that this dirty little secret stays a secret as they make their return.”

  Looking like he understood the ne
ed for such discretion, Raymond Hayes nodded. “I will do whatever I can to help those women. And I suppose I should thank you for ridding me of that filth, and your lady for helping with the birth.”

  All too clearly remembering the sight of the birth, I gagged.

  He laughed at me. “I was there when my daughter was born. Shit isn’t pretty.”

  After walking him to his cabin, and letting the women know that he would help them however he could, I shook his hand. “Sorry about the trouble, mate. But it was nice seeing you again.”

  “Likewise. Though I despise your new line of work, it’s good to see that you still carry some of your father’s honorable traits.”

  “About that, uh, well, I’ve heard that Mason Bentley is alive and hiding out at The Captain’s Wife in Port Royal. If you happen to run in to him while you’re in town, let him know where he can find me.”

  X

  It turned out that the worth of Thatcher’s wealth would somewhat compensate for the trouble after all. Not that the men who had been split in half from the shards of our battered hull would agree. By now, the survivors had the dismembered body parts gathered up. Though the mass of blood painting the remaining bulkheads made it look like a massacre had taken place, we had only lost the lives of two good men—Alfred Alrald and Black Bob.

  While Robinson wrapped Alfred Alrald’s body in canvas, Gerald Alrald stood near, crying and slobbering all over Yakob’s shoulder. Patting his back, Yakob said, “You are not alone, my friend.”

  I never understood the mates who found their fancies with other men, but it was plain to see that Gerald was as tore up over his loss as I would have been had I lost my wife. In fact, seeing her alive and well—talking to Jameson about his first job as purser—made me want to hold her tight. But I had work to do.

  While we were gone, Rolland and Inappropriate Jon had performed a few more successful surgeries—including the removal of two of Copper’s fingers. While Copper started drinking away his pains, Rolland began tending to the minor wounds and Inappropriate Jon went to repair the damage done to the hull. As Doctor Stabs took care of Pie-Eyed Pete’s injured deadlights, he informed the bloke of the dreadful news. “There’s nothing that can be done. You’ll be blind the rest of your pitiful days.”

  Big and gangly as Pie-Eyed Pete was, it was surprising to see him whining like a little lassie. Copper patted him on the back. “You lost your eyes, I lost my fingers. We all suffer together today but we all drink together tonight.”

  Once the injured were dealt with, I headed out to the deck and gathered my men for the funeral services. I hardly prayed in my mind as often as I should, so speaking to the Lord out loud afore the group wasn’t a chore I was looking forward to.

  With the men standing in silence around the dead, the dread of my responsibility weighed heavy on my shoulders. How the hell was I going to bring everyone to peace with this? Taking my place center stage, I thought back on the many burials my father conducted at sea. Taking a deep breath, I began, “Death is a part of this life we live, and we each know we’re taking that risk every time we raise the black. Unfortunately, these two gamblers met the darker side of fate today.

  Alfred was a good man, kind hearted and sincere. Since the day I met him I wondered what the hell led him here amongst us salty dogs, and with nothing but good things to say about the man, I know he’s resting well at ease in the arms of the Lord. May we all come together to let his partner, Gerald, know that he isn’t alone after his best mate’s passing.

  As for Black Bob, he was a gambler in every sense of the word. Hell, I reckon he took more of our money at the card table last week than any one of us has made over the year. Anyhow, it was the same nerve and confidence that had him up his ante at a game of cards, as it was that guided him along these many years at sea. But every time a beloved mate falls, we remember how courage and skill are not always enough to keep us afloat. When it’s your time it’s your time, and the best thing we can do is enjoy our limited existence while we’re still upright and breathing. Let us pray that the Lord accepts the souls of our fallen mates, and let us not forget their sacrifice while we enjoy the plunder they helped us to earn. Amen.”

  “Amen.” They hugged and howled their final farewells as we dropped the dead into the sea.

  Though I felt like I had rambled on like a fool, I heard the men quoting some of my words as we sailed away from the sinking bodies.

  Alrald stayed at the gunnel, staring back at his partner’s sinking body like a lost little laddie. Yakob hugged him as he cried.

  After talking to Jameson about arranging compensation pay for the injured men, and letting him know that the surviving Alrald would be receiving his partner’s share of the trade, I went on my way.

  Entering my cabin, I found Charlie already marking the bearings she had measured. Sitting down across from her, I opened a bottle of rum and took a deep breath. “Sink me. Retirement’s looking better and better.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  Allowing her the silence she desired, I sat there quietly and watched her work. With the sun setting low at the stern, I admired the way her hazel eyes reflected the fiery colors as she added her marks to my map. Wicked Rose was soaring smoothly, up and down the mild swells, easing my weary mind into a state of relaxation. The rum was helping, too.

  After a while of peace and quiet, Charlie spoke up. “Looks like we are three days away from Silversand.”

  Overseeing her work, I said, “At the worst, but riding the weather gauge as we are, it’ll probably only take two.”

  “Just when I think I have it all figured out.” He shoulders slumped.

  Sensing that her aggravation ran much deeper than the miscalculation, I asked, “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  “I’m fine.” She shook her head nervously. “I have to be fine.”

  “Not with me you don’t.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

  “Black Bob was my friend, Sterling. I cared about him. And Alfred was nothing but a nice fellow. Gerald is just devastated. So am I, but what does any of that matter? At least you said a very nice prayer. That helped me feel a bit better. But the scene back on Abilene is truly bothering me. I am so worried about Leah and her baby, and mortified by the fact that she does not want her baby. I mean, I know the circumstances were awful, but, well, I suppose I am a bit jealous that a girl who is physically capable of birthing a live child wouldn’t want it, when I want one so bad and can’t have any. Not to mention that there are so many women who lose their babies or their own lives during childbirth. It just isn’t fair. None of it. But there’s nothing I can do about any of it. The world is a nasty place and I can’t solve problems that big, so there’s no sense in dwelling on them.”

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “No, you can’t solve problems that big, but you did save the lives of a woman and her child today. Regardless of what they do in the future, it is because of your sacrifice that they have a future. There isn’t much more you can do beyond that.”

  “I suppose.” She blew her hair out of her face.

  To lighten the heavy mood, I shuddered dramatically. “Well, in case you’re wondering, I’m traumatized, too. The sight of childbirth has scarred me for life.”

  She laughed. At me, then said, “It was certainly intense. I’ve never witnessed anything like it either. Hearing that poor girl screaming, and seeing the pain on her face, I figure it might be a blessing to be barren after all.”

  “That works out, for I don’t think I’ll ever again get a stiff one after seeing female parts in that light.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be over that thought by midnight,” she snickered and returned her focus to the map.

  Watching her as she worked—hair a mess, shirt loosely hanging about her chest, showing me a hint of her black rose tattoo—my mind wandered off into lustful fantasies. Already past my threat of celibacy, my desires rose to a familiar height. Before I could say anything about the way I was now feeling
, the door to my room flew open.

  “Excuse me, Captain.” It was Toby. “Could you, uh, well, we need you to draw us a Wanted poster.”

  I laughed. “What the hell for?”

  Muddy Rivers walked in next. Sweaty and out of breath, the ol’ bloke heaved, “We be doing a mock trial out there and we want to make it authentic like.”

  Charlie jumped up. “I want to play!”

  “You can be a juror.” Toby patted her back.

  “He’s guilty, I know it!” She clapped her hands.

  “Who the hell am I drawing, and what are they wanted for?” I asked while reaching for my quill.

  “Make it of Corky Hamilton.” Muddy belched. “Just make it say for piracy and pillaging. For all we know he could have pillaged a horse and arse-raped it.”

  Charlie winced in disgust. Toby slapped his forehead. While laughing at all of them, I began drawing a grotesque rendition of the already ill-kept deckhand, Corky Hamilton.

  With the Wanted poster done, I headed out to the deck.

  Just like every night before, Endless Horizon drifted beside our Wicked Rose. With our two gangly and massive crews combined, there was a wild crowd gathered for the show in the making.

  Faron Flynn sat behind a barrel, wearing the white wig once worn by Lord Abbott Thatcher. He was using one of Inappropriate Jon’s hammers for a gavel. Lee Buckley was wearing a Royal Guard’s coat—God only knows where he found that—and a few of the crewmen stood behind him, playing the part of his officers. The band was set up at one side of the stage, and at the other, a group of men huddled together as the jury. Charlie happily joined them.

  When I passed the poster to Buckley, he said, “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll personally see to it that this filthy dog pays for his crimes.”

  Patting him on the back, I whispered, “I hear he arse-raped a horse. You must rid the world of this injustice.”