We had known plenty well that Reid’s words were true. We’d either get very rich or very dead during that risky invasion, and as the sun rose over the once sleeping town that was suddenly engulfed in death, blood, and fire, very dead seemed to be the case.
With sunlight seeping through the morning mist, I’d caught a glimpse of my father. At that moment, he was still standing in the war beside the man who led us into this terrible, terrible nightmare. Back to back, Black James Reid and Mason Bentley fought through the masses. Blades bloodied, clothes dirtied, faces splattered in blood and dirt, they worked together with the force of a mighty giant, annihilating the wee villagers of the town they planned to destroy. Based on their feats alone, one would think we were winning the war. I wanted to be a part of that force as much as I wanted to take cover under the shield of their strength, but it was while fighting my way in their direction that I watched the blade of a Spaniard run through my father’s abdomen.
Losing sight of the gory hell surrounding him as he fell, I focused on his face as I ran to him. Once I reached him, I found Reid hunched over his dying body. With fire burning in his black eyes, Reid shouted at me and my surviving mates, “Retreat!”
“No! No! I can’t leave him. I won’t!” I shouted so wildly, so painfully, it came out as more of a scream.
“You will. And you’ll go now!” Reid roared, his voice more powerful than mine.
Though the other men easily heeded the commanding captain’s orders, I refused. Attempting to push past him, I watched my father struggle to breathe. I had never seen him suffer. No weakness had he ever shown. The unfamiliar sight of the man made of steel gasping for air and gagging on blood caused me to lose what little stability I had managed to uphold during that dreadful fight. My knees buckled. My vision clouded. As memories of the life he led flashed through my mind, I crawled towards him. Though I was bleeding profusely from the slash on my side, I attempted to pick him up. I have to get him to the ship, I thought. He’d want to be buried at sea.
As I tried to lift him, Reid pushed me away. “Get out of here!”
I fell to the ground. Looking up I saw that he had pulled his sword. Pointing the tip of his blade at me, he commanded, “This is a time of engagement and you will do as your captain says.”
Captain? I had only one captain and he was dying before my eyes. Gazing upon his blood- splattered face, I realized this calamity was all Reid’s doing. Aye, he’d been the one to drag us there—boasting tales of wealth and fame. It’d been his fault we failed and his fault my father died, and now he was pointing his bloody blade at me. I never hated anyone more…
Snapping out of my painful musings—with the trauma raw in my mind—I finally reacted how I often wished I would have. Rushing towards the man that everyone else in the tavern seemed to fear, I shoved him as hard as I could and shouted, “You aren’t my captain now, bastard!”
Flying back from the blow, Reid pulled his sword as quickly as I’d ever seen anyone. When I met his parry with mine, a wicked grin lit his face. The bastard backhanded me.
Too drunk to be fighting at all, I stumbled backwards from the unexpected and demeaning slap. Just as I caught my footing and righted myself to counter attack, I realized I was looking down the barrel of Black James Reid’s pistol. “Don’t make me have to kill your father’s one and only heir.”
Staring into the fiery darkness of his eyes, I considered the risk of attacking him anyway. Before I could do anything so stupid, however, Flynn popped out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. “Stand down, Bentley, before I backhand you myself.”
I’d forgotten all about Charlie until she came alongside me with her pistol at the ready. “Good grief, Bentley. I can’t leave you alone for a minute. Who the hell is this?”
“Get out of here, Charlie.” Faron shooed her away like a fly. “This is Black James Reid, and if either of you have a lick of sense…”
“Black James Reid!” Charlie let out a giddy yelp.
“Aye.” Reid tipped his hat with his free hand. “You must be Bentley’s Black Rose.”
“Yes, yes I am. Oh, Sterling, lower your sword.” She fanned her hand at me, then looked back at Reid—bursting with admiration. “Sterling has more sense than to fight you, sir.”
Knowing our future depended on his plans, I stood down. “Ah, I won’t make you have to kill me,” I said, then mumbled under my breath, “Yet.”
Lowering his weapon, Reid chuckled. “Good. Let me get you a drink and we’ll catch up on old times.”
With little interest in doing so, I told Charlie I’d be back and followed him to a table where a bunch of men and their wenches were playing cards. Assuming them to be Reid’s mates, I was surprised to see their eyes widen with fear as he drew near. Reid tapped the barrel of his gun on the table. They fled the area like gulls scattering in the air, leaving their drinks and the small pile of loot they’d been betting on behind.
Sitting down, he shoved the old mugs to the side and invited me to take the seat across from him. “There has never been a time that your father or I have gone without getting the booth we preferred.”
“I know. He used to do that shit all the time.” I chuckled as I sat down across from him.
Before I got comfortable, Pirate Peggy came over with a bottle of rum. “Billy always saves the best for you, Mister Reid.” She smiled as she poured our glasses.
“Rightfully so, since I always save my best for his mother.” Reid laughed.
Peggy laughed, too. They carried on for a moment—mostly with him complimenting her—but soon enough he let her know we had business to tend to. Pirate Peggy patted me on the shoulder and wandered off.
Twisting the waxed tip of his mustache, Reid smiled at me. “I’ve been hoping to run into you again. With all the tales I have heard about your exploits, I am surprised it has taken so long.”
“Aye, five years have passed since the day I decided to kill you when next I saw you.” I smirked at him, then took a drink of the tasty rum.
“I can understand why you may have hard feelings on the matter, but let me assure you there is more to what happened that day than what you may know.”
“Pray tell.” I struggled to simmer the hatred that was once again churning in my gut.
“As you know, your father and I planned that mission together. It was our combined intelligence that led us ashore so successfully, but drawing arms on foreign soil can come at a hefty cost, and unfortunately, Mason Bentley paid the ultimate price that day.
I was there when he fell, but I am not sure if you saw me kill the man who had stabbed him. I went after that son of a bitch with a vengeance that will haunt him in Hell, and gave his mates the same treatment right after. With those black-blooded devils out of the way, I knelt beside your father and tried to help him up. Come with me, old friend, they’ve not won us yet, I assured him.
He resisted my assistance. No. I’ve been wounded enough to know this is my end. Tell my son…
You will tell him, Bentley. Get up and you can tell him, I insisted.
No. He refused. I won’t be telling him another thing in this world, but being one of my only friends walking this wretched earth, I beg of you to get him out of here. Don’t let him fight you. I don’t want him dying on this cursed Spanish soil.”
Reid lowered his head. “And those were his last words to me before I turned to face you as he wished. He peered at me with a dangerously serious expression. “Given the circumstances, I didn’t have time to explain, and I often thought thereafter of how you must have hated me for what I did, but I had to do it for him, Sterling. Friend is not a word I use loosely, but Mason Bentley was one of the few friends I had. Knowing how much he loved you, it was all I could do to honor his request with regards to your wellbeing that day.”
Feeling a bit haunted by my painful memories, I paused for a moment before responding. Friend was not a word my father used lightly either, and I knew Reid was one of the few men he trusted. Considering that, alongside
the fact that I needed him to get what I wanted, I decided to make amends. “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t kill you back there.”
He let out a menacing laugh. “I’ll let you think I got away the lucky one.”
After slugging back a shot, he squinted at me with an observant eye. “You look just like your father, mate. Hell, sitting here with you like this feels like I’m drinking with his ghost.”
His ghost…Finally someone was speaking sensibly. Not that I wanted my father dead—I hated the day of his death more than anything—but I knew it as truth, and the truth was something I could deal with.
After Pirate Peggy brought us another bottle, Reid said, “Now, let’s talk business. Faron Flynn has informed me that you are interested in taking up the rear in this mission I have planned.”
“This is true,” I concurred.
His bearded face lifted with a wicked grin. “Good. For if you’ve grown to be anything like your father, I see great success in our future.”
“I reckon I wouldn’t have lived this long if I was anything less than what my father taught me to be.”
He raised his glass to meet mine. “Cheers to you and me raking civilization together, just like he and I used to do.”
As we drank to honor our new union, Flynn, Marty, and Charlie approached. Flynn patted my back. “You blokes done kissing and making up?”
Standing up, Reid laid his arm over Marty’s shoulder and brushed his jaw across her cheek. “With this one around, I believe the kissing has only begun.”
Ignoring the way Marty giggled like a shy young girl under Reid’s long arm, Flynn suggested we begin refining our plans.
Reid stepped away from Marty. “Very well. We shall go over the details in my cabin, men.”
Marty and Charlie expressed their enthusiasm about stepping foot on Black Reid’s Broken Shell, but Flynn fanned his hand at them. “He said men, in case you didn’t hear that part. How about you go wash our coats or something?”
Their jaws hit the floor like anchors. Before either of them could raise a disapproving fuss, Reid pulled Marty close and breathed a sultry whisper in her ear, “With a Lord like me, you’d have servants washing your soiled fabrics.”
She smirked at Faron as Reid kissed her on the forehead.
“Another time, my darling,” he said as he let go of her.
With rosy cheeks she wished him well on his way.
X
“She’s a pretty one you got here,” I complimented as I looked around at the well fastened timbers of Reid’s Broken Shell.
“Indeed she is. I run a shipyard now and had her built just how I wanted her. You may have noticed that she is not your average brig-of-war. I designed her to be trim and sleek as can be while still keeping her strong enough to mount those thirty guns.”
“I noticed a few of them are swivel,” Flynn added.
“I had those mounted for this particular mission,” Reid answered while filling our glasses with another expensive rum. “I want to show you lads what I have in mind here, but first, I believe you’d like to take a look at this beauty, Bentley.”
He pulled out a map of Tortuga.
The awe-inspiring piece of art was marked with that eerily familiar feather and crescent moon. My mother, the Midnight Feather, had drawn this map. Eyeing the perfect measurements of the shore, the beautiful way she etched the waves along the coast, and nearly feeling the wind brushing through the birds’ wings, I shook my head in disbelief. “Damn. After all the maps I have seen, Midnight’s are still my favorite.”
Faron leaned over my shoulder to take a look. “It isn’t that much different from your style, mate.”
“Aye. This is the hand that got me interested in mapping the seas the way I do.” Well aware that Reid knew my mother—for it was the way he teased my father for loving her that assured me she was more than just a slut he once bedded—I wondered how much more he knew about those taxing mysteries than I did. But I didn’t bother asking. Especially with Faron there. I had no mind for revealing the ridiculous secrets my tricky parents had kept safe for all these years.
Without a word I stared at the piece for a while—losing myself in the perfection of her lines—until I heard Reid say, “You will like this one, too, Bentley.”
He showed us a map I had done of the Spanish Main.
“Ah, I did that one three years ago.”
Sorting through his maps, Reid said, “Aye, and I have yet to come across a better one.”
Flynn rubbed his hands together. “All right, boys, enough of this artsy shit. What’s the plan?”
“Very well.” Reid grinned. Using the map I had drawn, he pointed at Nombre de Dios. “As you very well know, the mines are in Venezuela. The gold and silver travels by a long mule train all the way to Nombre de Dios. There, the Spanish treasure fleet will fill her hold with gold, bursting to capacity.” He looked at us with a wicked grin on his face before returning his gaze to the map. “She will, from here, head back to Spain, making many stops along the way, and I intend to hit her where she is most vulnerable.”
I watched intently as his finger traced the route from Nombre de Dios, to Cartagena, then stopped over the bay of Venezuela, where he pressed down hard. “We’ll hit her at the choke point here, far enough away that the guns of port will not be able to reach us, but quick enough that she will not have any space to come about, and won’t be able to bring her guns to bear. Of course, we will disguise ourselves as a Spanish convoy going in. Do either of you have Spanish speaking crewmen?”
Flynn let us know that he had freed a hold full of galley slaves during his last raid and more than half of them spoke Spanish.
We spent a while discussing the high points of each of our ships and crews to plot out the best formation for our attack. After a great deal of consideration, Reid concluded, “Then we will stick with our original plan. Being light and swift, Endless Horizon will lead the way, pummeling down the first guard. My Broken Shell will lay the thunder on the treasure ship itself, while Bentley cleans up their last chance of defense with his Wicked Rose.”
Satisfied with the plans and excited to sink our fangs in the prize at hand, the three of us raised our glasses and cheered to the gold we would soon be rolling in.
Chapter 11
Gold They Will Never Touch
As Told By Charlotte Bentley
Written by Charlotte Bentley:
March 17th 1669
Three days have passed since Flynn and Bentley made their plans with Reid. We’ve spent every hour afterwards preparing for the trip. Robinson has the sails sewn to perfection, Copper has the guns and ammunition clean and ready for war, and Inappropriate Jon has made all the needed repairs to the ship. Wicked Rose looks as good as she did the day we left Virgin Gorda. We now have one-hundred men on our crew and the enthusiasm brewing between them makes the tally seem double that. We are strong, we are ready, and soon enough—those of us who live—will be very, very rich.
Black Rose
March 30th 1669
So far the sail has been smooth. I am especially happy about that since I have done a great deal of the navigation. Though Sterling has been overseeing all of my chart work—and rushing me along in order to maintain the speed Flynn and Reid expect from the master navigator—he’s allowed me to complete all the steps on my own. According to the charts, and considering the winds, we should be setting sight on the shores of Venezuela any day now. It’s certainly a good feeling being able to mark my place on the map. Though I’m glad I am not doing it alone, it is nice knowing I am capable of making my way in the world if I ever have to.
Black Rose
X
As Wicked Rose soared along in the misty morning air, I eyed the embankments of the channel. The hillsides around us were getting taller and closer, which signified the nearness of our arrival. Any moment now those galleons would come into sight. My pulse quickened with every knot we drew in on the port of our prey. My thoughts—twisting and gnawing a
t my mind with the dreadful possibilities ahead—would not allow me to rest.
Weakened by my worries, and beginning to feel like a lubber on my pansy petal feet, I figured it’d be best to avoid going aloft. Shaky as I was, I’d probably slip and fall to my doom. Staying planted at the bow, I watched the morning mist dissipating and felt it giving way to an unruly heat. Swampy, suffocating, heavy air weighed down on my lungs, engulfing my body with such misery that I nearly forgot the fears my tormented mind had been entertaining since I arose from my restless slumber.
Just as I settled into my work, Rolland announced the sight of sails. Sterling eyed the upcoming ships through his spyglass. “There they are, boys,” he rumbled hungrily.
I knew it was them. It had to be, yet Sterling’s affirmation of their identity struck my soul like a punch to the face.
This was it.
There, in the now sunlit distance, riding mightily between her two guards, lay the fat and heavy galleon, Mariposa de Oro.
I had spoken her name many times before, always with a hunger for the treats laying in her hold, but now, eyeing the strength of her two protectors—fore and aft—I began to think I should have waited ashore for Sterling. No! Damn it, no, Black Rose, you are strong enough for this. Thinking about the retirement I had in mind, and considering the hell awaiting us ashore if we returned empty handed, I held my shoulders proud and began feeding the morale of my men.
Patting their backs and complimenting their strength as they prepared their weapons for war, I also double checked my own. Being our job to clean up the rear, I hoped we wouldn’t have to do any boarding, but the sight of the Spanish flags flapping in the humid breeze ahead of us assured me I had to be ready for anything, especially the worst of things.
Gunpowder & Gold (Justified Treason, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 17