The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet - (Books 1-3) Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure

by Karen Perkins

  “I reckon we’re far enough away here,” Mr. Gaunt said into the silence. “Why don’t we swap places and see what thee’s made of?”

  I got to my feet—too quickly—and the boat rocked violently.

  “Gabby!” Klara said in alarm. I ignored her and grabbed hold of the mast to stop myself falling overboard.

  “Steady there, lass, no sudden movements, she’s not ballasted like the big ’un, keep your weight to the middle and watch thy balance.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Why don’t you sit down and let Mr. Gaunt sail the boat?” Klara said. I ignored her again, took a deep breath and moved my feet aft, more carefully this time. It was hard to find space for my feet around the stores, but even harder to let go of the mast.

  When I took that risk I almost fell again; but for Mr. Gaunt’s quick arm I would have done. He stood across the back of the boat with his feet wide apart, despite his instruction to me to keep to the middle, but he was balanced enough to help me find my own. I clutched at him gratefully and moved my feet exactly as he told me. He gave me the tiller and moved forward, agile and comfortable. I smiled at Klara, who looked away, but I was sure I saw a small smile on her face first. I was delighted—it was good to see her smiling.

  “Sit thysen down there, lass—no not there, t’other side—and I’ll balance thy weight.”

  I moved to where he was pointing and sat on the starboard side of the aft thwart, away from the sail and boom.

  “Now, we’ll find out if thee’s learnt anything these past weeks,” he said with a smile. “Hey! Thee has the helm, thee needs to pay attention to thy boat and sails, not them ships! Come back to me, lass!”

  I turned back to face him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, just wondering what was happening, that’s all.”

  “We’ll hear it when it starts. Leave your friend there to keep an eye on ’em, I’m going to sheet the sail in and get us moving—just keep her steady.”

  He hauled on the mainsheet and we started moving immediately. I heard a gurgling and leaned over the side to investigate. The boat lurched over, but thankfully I hadn’t let go of the tiller; Mr. Gaunt grabbed it and used it to pull me back in to the sound of more disapproval from the bow.

  “Oh! Thank you! I thought I was going to fall out!”

  “And so thee should have. What were thee thinking, lass? You nearly had us over!”

  Scared and confused, I could feel tears fill my eyes and I looked away from Mr. Gaunt. I’d rather be on that Dutch ship then out at sea in a twenty-foot boat that wouldn’t stay upright with any kind of assurance.

  “Steady now, lass, thee’s all right. Even if we do fall in we’ll only get wet, though I doubt the Cap would be too pleased to lose gold he’s entrusted to us.”

  I’d forgotten about the gold and supplies. This was more than a sailing lesson, we could be the difference between life and death for Leo and the crew should the Dutch ship get in a lucky shot or two. Now I lost my battle with my tears and I thought back to how I’d almost sunk us. Twice. Already.

  “Hush now, lass, thee’s nowt to weep about. Look about thee; we’re still upright with our cargo—and us—still safe.” He gave me a moment and carried on once I nodded that I was well.

  “Feel the wind, lass. Where’s it coming from?”

  I thought about it and replied, “Over my left shoulder.”

  “Aye. Now look at the sail, how’s thee gonna catch it?”

  I looked at the sail, only now realizing he’d let it flog again. “You need to pull it in.”

  “Aye. Watch it while I sheet in and see when I stop. Does thee see how she fills? The last bit to shiver is the luff, next to the mast. Remember what that looks like, and if it’s flapping pull the sail in. If the sail’s already in as far as it can be then it’s thy steering that’s at fault and you need to bear off the wind a touch.”

  “Bear off?”

  “Aye.” He looked at the confusion on my face and sighed, to more laughter from up front. I looked at Klara and smiled as our eyes met. However much of a fool I made of myself doing this, it was worth it to see her eyes sparkle once more. “Thee can sail in any direction except straight into the wind. If thee pulls the tiller toward thee, it pulls the rudder and pushes the bows away from the wind—that’s bearing off. Push the tiller and you harden up to the wind, or go aloof. Push it further and you tack.”

  At least I knew what tack meant. “That’s bad isn’t it? Doesn’t that mean going backwards until the wind’s coming from over the other side of the boat?”

  “It does on a square-rigger like Freedom, but it’s much simpler in a little tub like this. We can sail much higher—closer to the wind direction,” he added with another exasperated glance at me, “than Freedom can. In the ship, the yards would jam up against the stays that hold the mast up, but we ain’t got that problem here.”

  I nodded, still a bit confused, but I wasn’t scared anymore. At least Mr. Gaunt knew what I was supposed to be doing, and Klara was smiling again.

  “So, if I ‘harden up’, like this, you need to pull the sail in and, oh!”

  We picked up some speed as I tried it out, and I had wind and salt spray in my face—it felt wonderful!

  “That’s better, lass, blow me if you ain’t a right little sea artist under them tears,” said Mr. Gaunt, giving me an indulgent smile. “Hook thy feet under that loop of line down there and lean back a bit over the water. That’s it, lass. That smile suits you a lot more than them tears did, shall we try a tack?”

  Now that I had the feel of her and a little confidence, my first tack went well, or better than I expected anyway, which I supposed was not quite the same thing. I steered her through the wind a little too far, but I didn’t tip us over and I managed to avoid the boom as it swung wildly across the boat, missing my head by only a hair.

  I enjoyed myself so much that I almost forgot the reason for us to be sailing out here in the first place. It was exhilarating to be flying so close to the waves, the little boat straining her sails to go faster and faster despite her load. The first roar of cannon went straight through me; for a moment I wondered if I’d been shot. I turned to look over my shoulder (this time keeping the rudder in position) to see the puff of smoke heading our way from Freedom.

  “What will happen now?” I asked Mr. Gaunt, my earlier joy replaced by fear. “Will they win?”

  “They’re sure to, lass. These things go one of three ways. The easiest and usual consequence is the prize striking her colors without firing a shot. Dropping her flag in surrender,” he explained. “They know from the black flag that quarter’ll be given, that means mercy, not like some of them scoundrels showing the bloody flag—a red flag promises death and destruction to the whole ship and crew whether they ask for mercy or not. I’ve never sailed under one meself, and never will, although I’ve known them that have. Turned them into devils, it did.

  “Anyhow, most of them that don’t strike, run, but Freedom’s rigged for speed and she catches most of her prey.”

  “What’s the third one? Oh, fight.”

  “Aye, fight. Not many do, there’s too many legs and arms and other bits of men lost, including lives. Not many take the risk. Most merchants underhand their ships, and they don’t pay well what crew they do take on. There ain’t many who’ll risk their lives for the contents of a merchant’s pocket, and we’ve no use for a scuttled ship—can’t clear her of her riches then, can we?”

  “They’re not striking their colors.”

  I saw Mr. Gaunt smile at Klara’s use of his phrase. “No, they ain’t, are they? There’s always the stubborn ones who won’t give up.”

  My heart sank and my breath gasped. I was grateful that Leo had ordered us off Freedom after all, and I turned back to Mr. Gaunt only to see him smile at my leap of fear.

  “We’ll swap places again, lass. I reckon thee’ll be more interested in that glass than the tiller.”

  I nodded, moved forward toward Klara with
a lot more confidence then I had aft, and took the glass from her.

  “I wish I’d have been a way off when I saw my first pirate attack. It were mayhem. I didn’t know what were fore and aft or larboard and starboard with all the noise and gunsmoke stinging me eyes. A good mate o’ mine were killed that day, and poor Jimmy lost his leg. There’s not many who’d take on a man like that—especially a man who complains as much as Jimmy does. There were a lot of us crew impressed with that, it’s why most of us joined him, even if he is a Spaniard, but we don’t hold that against him. Anyway, his ma were English, and that’s enough for me.”

  “What do you mean? Joined who?”

  “The Cap of course.”

  I was still confused.

  “Leo were the pirate who attacked me ship. The one that’s now called Sound of Freedom.”

  “Leo did that? Leo? And you sail with him?”

  “Aye. There were nowt personal in it and a ship’s a ship. He’s a finer master than the last one an’all, and I’m grateful to him—well, mebbe not at first—but I’ve been at sea thirty year and had nowt to show for it but abuse and a body breaking down with the work. I’ve been with Santiago more or less a year now, and it’s been the best ’un. I’ve more freedom, less work, and plenty of gold to show for it. I wish I’d gone pirate decades afore. Aye, he’s a good man is the Cap, he never leaves a man behind, that’s worth summat in this life, that is.” He looked at me. “But that’s the Cap all over. There might have been a few lives lost aboard Freedom, but not one has been thrown away as they are on a lot of ships. Life’s precious to him—that’s why the crew are happy to follow him on this crusade of his. That said, he brings in plenty of gold—that helps, too.”

  “Crusade?”

  “Aye. Tarr, Blake and Hornigold. Them that killt his ma. The whole crew wants ’em dead now, not just the Cap.”

  We were interrupted by a massive roar and a bonfire of smoke.

  “What’s happened? Why’s Freedom rolling like that? Is she hit? Is she going down? Quick, we’ve got to get to her!”

  “Settle down, lass, she’s well. He’s fired all his larboard cannon together in a broadside, the roll’s just Freedom’s reaction to all that powder going off. I’m glad I ain’t on that gundeck, it’s a fearsome place in a fight.”

  “Oh.” I felt a bit of a fool, but mainly relieved. Klara still looked worried though, and I remembered that Obi was on one of the gun crews.

  “They must be putting up a good fight, we haven’t much use for a wrecked prize; it’ll take time to strip her of her treasures, and a ship’s wasted on the bottom.”

  I fumbled the glass to my eye and tried to make sense of what I saw.

  Chapter 36

  “They’ve strung something up over the deck, I can’t make out what it is—it looks like a jumble of rope,” I reported.

  “Ah, that explains it, lass, they’ve put boarding nets up—me shipmates can’t get on deck—but thee can be sure that crew don’t wanna stay trapped under nets on a sinking ship. As soon as she starts listing, they’ll pour out of them hatches like bees out of honeycomb. Thee mark me words, there ain’t nowt worse than being stuck below decks in a ship filling with water.”

  “Yes, here they come!” I was getting swept up in the excitement of the fight. “Oh, Freedom’s firing at them!”

  “That’ll be the sharpshooters in the rigging—just a little encouragement for them to de-rig the nets. They’ll only hit the ones with weapons, there’s no point killing anyone we don’t have to.”

  I shuddered at the casual way he said this, but was soon distracted again and searched through the glass for Leo. I could see ropes being flung into the rigging where their grapnel hooks caught fast; more were thrown over the rail and the two ships drew closer together whilst men swung or leapt down across the gap to the smaller vessel, but I still couldn’t see him. The weight of the Freedom Fighters landing on the newly loosened netting brought it all down and they had the deck in seconds.

  “There’s Leo! What’s he doing?” I handed the glass to Mr. Gaunt, unable to watch the captain in danger.

  “He’s going below to flush out the captain and the rest of the crew. There, that smoke’s a grenado—a fire bomb—that’s gone off down the hatch. Leo and a few others’ll follow it.” Then he looked at me. “Don’t worry, lass, he’s a master at fighting close-quarters, he won’t take long.”

  “But why does he have to go below at all? Surely it’s the most dangerous place. He’s the captain, why isn’t he safe on Freedom telling the others what to do?”

  “Because he’s captain, that’s why. The men won’t accept a leader who’ll send them into dangers he wouldn’t face himself, not on a fighting ship. The only place for him to be is in the thick of it, the men respect him for it.”

  I snatched the glass back, desperate to see him appear on deck again.

  “There he is! He’s done it, Mr. Gaunt, he’s still alive!”

  I heard Mr. Gaunt laugh at my relief and saw it anew myself. I realized I’d as good as declared love for the pirate captain, but at that moment I didn’t care. I wanted to be over there with him, not stuck in this boat, an onlooker. I realized I missed the excitement of a fight, and watching wasn’t enough. I wanted to be in the middle of it. I wanted to hear my blood pound through my body and I wanted to fight with my man—not against him.

  “Ha! There! The flag’s down, they’ve done it, they’ve taken her!”

  I focused again on the ships and saw my new friends cheering their success—although they’d lose the prize if they didn’t get on with it. She looked low in the water, and smoke poured out of more holes than just the hatches.

  “Can we head back now, Mr. Gaunt? If they’re on fire, they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

  “Aye, reckon thee’s right at that, lass. Does thee want to take her in? And show that captain of thine what thee can do?”

  “Aye, aye, Mr. Gaunt.” I smiled, and we changed places again—this time with hardly a wobble.

  Chapter 37

  LEO

  I chased after the tarry smoke billowing through the hull. Most of the crew had escaped topside, but I knew the captain was down here somewhere; I just didn’t know how many men he still had with him.

  I’d been deafened by the cannon fire and could barely see in the dim light, but could tell from the stench that this was another blackbirder, a slaver, mercifully empty today, though still stinking from a recent cargo. That was good—he’d be loaded with the proceeds from the slave marts and I didn’t have the problem of deciding what to do with a cargo of defeated terrified people. My stinging, streaming eyes were useless, I had to go by feel. I knew the captain would head aft to his cabin, they always did, and he had the advantage of familiarity with his ship. He was used to fumbling about below these decks in the dark. My advantage was that I’d done this before. Often. Thomas and Phillippe would go forward to find anyone else moving down here, Rafael and Smith followed me, and I fired my first gun in the general direction of the stern, knowing that none of my men were further aft than I was. I was pleased to note that I could hear it—my ears were coming back to me. I heard shouts and curses and quietly celebrated—I’d hit someone. The captain?

  “You bloodthirsty murdering swine! You’ve killed one of my best men!”

  Not the captain then.

  “How many of my crew have you killed today? Have you no conscience?”

  “That man answers to your own conscience, Captain, not mine. You chose to fight, and he chose to fight with you. And what about your scruples? You sail about the Caribbees with a hundred men and women shackled in your holds to sell like beasts to the highest bidder, and you challenge my scruples! I should put you in irons and to work just as brutally as the people you sold!”

  I sidestepped his ball—I knew he’d aim at my voice, but did he have another gun? I coughed, although the smoke was clearing now, and fired my second gun at the flash of his, or at least I tried to�
�nothing happened. My powder was wet.

  I saw him then, outlined in front of a splash of daylight. He’d reached his cabin. I charged forward, my blade drawn and my defective gun held by the stubbornly cold barrel. Instead of using his own weapons he tried to shut the door on my charge, and it was easy enough to club his arm with the butt of my gun. He cried out, as much in rage as pain, and drew his sword with the other. He was a foolish man and a worse captain. He’d sacrificed his crew and his ship for his pride. If he’d carried a short blade or cutlass he could have put up a fight. Instead his long rapier clattered against the deckhead before he got anywhere near me. It was simple enough to disarm him with a quick slice to his swordarm, and he was lucky that was the only injury I inflicted, although he didn’t seem to appreciate it much.

  “You’re nothing but a yellow-livered Spanish mongrel! Anyone can make a profit with flint and steel! What went wrong? Couldn’t you prosper at honorable industry?”

  “Keep your mouth shut and your thoughts to yourself or you’ll discover just how skilled I am at this industry!”

  I’d had enough of him now. It had promised to be a good fight, but I’d been able to cut and disarm him before he’d managed to get his blade anywhere near me. I saw some line on the chart table and used it to secure his wrists, then took him back on deck to show his crew and mine the fight was won. Freedom had added another ship’s colors to her tally. Now came the hard bit. The battle was over and the men celebrating, but all I could think of were the captain’s words—how many men had been injured? How many had been killed today because of my decisions?

  *

  I checked the sky first, no problems there; the fresh breeze that had been blowing when I went below was still blowing, and there were no presages of storm in the bright blue above. Freedom looked as if she’d come off lightly. There was some work for George to do, but a bit of sail repair was no problem, we could take more sailcloth from the prize. Her hull seemed sound; the Dutch ship’s captain had been no gunmaster and the only damage was high and easy to reach. I shouted over to Frazer aboard Freedom, and he confirmed she was still sound below the waterline.