The poor lass had looked as white as a bleached sail. He wished he could go comfort her, a foolish and dangerous notion. No, she would have to suffer the battle until the end, no matter the outcome. Still, he couldn’t help but yearn to hold her, stroke her soft tawny hair, whisper sincere vows he would protect her. There he went again. Thinking like some kind of hero. How bloody stupid.
The exchange of firepower raged fierce. Zane had a formidable foe in Bennington. He could count on the commodore’s enthusiasm for a fight. Although the naval officer was well versed in battle, Bennington’s presumptive pride exposed a weakness Zane had always been able to exploit.
The explosion of cannons split the ears, acrid smoke hung thick. Drafts of sea breeze did little in blowing the swirling, grey smoke away. Zane could only make out the contour of the Tradition. And she was getting closer.
“He means to board us.” Blade fired off a shot from his blunderbuss. “Should we weigh anchor?”
“No. The merchants need a chance to make their way out of the bay.” Zane pulled a pistol from one of his braces on his bandolier. “Let him try to board. That will then prove his ignorance. He will only hasten his defeat.”
A bullet whizzed past Zane’s head splintering against the main mast behind him, sending wooden shards piercing his skin. Without flinching, he returned fire.
“Besides, Bennington cannot set his mind to a pirate’s heart. Two disabled ships will render him a sitting duck amid these hostile waters. With or without The Serpent, he would be given no quarter.”
A grappling hook caught at the railing in front of Blade. Zane quickly sliced through the rope with his sword, firing again into the smoke.
“Use the fireballs!” He thundered the demand at his men.
The Rissa jolted as a cannonball lacerated through her berth.
Zane quickened his step along the waist, shouting orders to his gunners. Skilled artillerymen loaded and fired their cannons with a calm composure verged near suicidal indifference. These men worked as a team. The loader cleared the touchhole vent on top of the muzzle of firing debris and then measured the loose gunpowder. The sponger shoved the swabbing sponge down the gun’s barrel to extinguish sparks and stepped aside for the rammer. It took two or three strokes to wedge in the hemp wadding against the powder charge. Finally the loader rammed in the shot and the gun captain lit the fuse. A moment later, the gun fired and the whole process began again.
Zane respected his crew a great deal. ’Twas good to have such men at his back, especially those as bloody-minded as he.
“Remember men. We’re not taking her!” He strode behind their line shouting over the blasting guns. “Use the chain shot! Destroy her!”
*****
Officer Trent hurriedly snaked through soldiers engaged in the sea battle. Dense smoke whirled in his wake. “Commodore, sir.”
Bennington still stood impatient at the helm, leaning on his drawn sword with a hand propped on his hip.
Trent panted, out of breath from rushing across the ship delivering Bennington’s directives. “We’re sustaining a great deal of damage. They are cutting swathes in our sails with langrage shot filled with scrap metal. The main mast is severely torn up. We haven’t gotten a single man on board the Rissa. Four dead and nine are wounded from their grape shot. And there’s a fire on the quarterdeck.”
“Your point, Lieutenant?” he snorted. The battle had been waging for the larger part of twenty minutes and had exchanged an impressive amount of gunfire between them. The pirate ship fared better than his own warship. Fox had been prepared. That fact didn’t surprise him. Bennington bared his teeth in frustration as another fireball landed with a thud on the deck below, sparking flecks of shattered wood to catch into bits of growing flames. Men stomped on the embers, smothering the little fires
“Sir.” Trent stood at attention. The commodore could hear his heels clicking together over the popping of firing muskets. “I await your orders.”
Bennington let out a violent wail. He swung his sword against the mast, embedding the blade deep. “He’s anchored for crissakes! Why can’t we defeat him? There is no excuse for failure!”
Trent ducked away from Bennington in his tirade, losing his hat. “Sir, he’s better outfitted for close combat.” He bumbled to firmly adjust his tricorn back on his boxy head. Still, it sat crooked.
Bennington narrowed his eyes at the lieutenant. “You dare speculate my tactics?”
Trent hustled over to dislodge his commander’s sword. “No sir.” He tugged on the sword. “I deeply regret sounding as such.” He tugged again. “I only meant to say –”
“I know what you meant to say.” Bennington cut him off. Inhaling deep the acrid taste of gunpowder in the air, he pushed Trent aside, grabbed the hilt with one hand and yanked his sword out of the spar. “Increase firepower. Use the 42-pounders. Get men on that ship. Bring me Captain Fox. At whatever cost, I will get what I came for. There are your orders, Lieutenant.”
Trent saluted. “Yes, sir.”
A low boom resonated over the gunfire, within the next moment a chunk of the Tradition’s aft shattered, splinters and boards rained down as men hit the deck.
“Hell and corruption!” Bennington scrambled to his feet. “Where’d that come from?”
“There!” Trent pointed toward a small garrison nestled in the trees on the side of the island’s rocky cliff.
Bennington set his jaw. He had not seen it before. The post was well hidden amid the thick foliage. But now he could make out the limestone blocks that blended into the ribbed bluff.
“Damnation.” He spun around, rage consuming him whole. He didn’t budge as another volley shot from the shore cannon, tearing past and nicking the rail.
He kicked at his cockswain, who lay shaking, huddled on the floor with his arms over his head. “Get us out of here,” Bennington ordered.
The Tradition tilted to the larboard and pulled away from the battle. Bennington made his way to the rail and focused on the Rissa in their retreat. Through the lifting smoke, her captain stared back at him, giving him a salute with his pistoled hand.
“I solemnly vow to you, Captain Fox,” Bennington said, though no one heard him. “Our next encounter will be the last.”
*****
Men cheered as the navy frigate sailed out of the bay, but Zane was not quite as satisfied. Bennington headed for the safety of open waters to fight another day. “What’s the damage,” he said.
Henri tottered over. “Most of the bulwark’s repairable. Foremast took a good hit. Not much damage to anythin’ else since the sails were down. We be needin’ to mend ’er up, Capt’n.”
“Aye.” They needed to make way soon. Another battle with Bennington was closer than inevitable. “And the men?”
“A few splinter wounds. But nothin’ serious.”
“Good.”
Blade sauntered over with a bottle of rum in hand. “Your men on shore couldn’t have picked a better time to start shelling. Really took ole Bennington by surprise. Once again, Zane, you prove you are the master.” He clapped Zane on the back, handing him the bottle.
“Who be the barrack stanchions?” Henri peered over at the garrison.
“There were a couple of retired French corsairs on shore who owed me a favor. Figured they could pay up. They were more than willing to satisfy their debt after I presented a persuasive reminder.”
“Let me guess,” Blade teased. “You bought them a round.”
“You take all the joy out of being a heartless shivery sea captain.”
Blade laughed. “Ah, but not the joy for me.”
Zane stopped a boatswain passing by. “Make her ready to sail,” he said.
“Bennington won’t be licking his wounds for long. We need to get to a safe cay to make our repairs.” He uncorked the rum taking a deep swig. “Ah, victory. She tastes sweet.” Zane savored the bite.
Henri lapped at his dry lips as Zane handed the bottle back to Blade.
“You can say that again, brother.” Blade swallowed hard. “To another fight.” He raised the bottle in a toast then downed another swig.
Henri reached for the rum, but Zane grabbed the neck, lifting it high. “Hear, hear!”
A commotion carried from the interior entryway. Lianna emerged from the hatch with Jason, harried to keep up, in tow. Henri, his concentration unwavering, snatched the bottle from Zane, gulping down the liquor, dribbling it down into his wiry beard.
“Miss Whitney, please wait. Miss Whitney, the Capt’n told me to keep you below until he called for us. Please, Miss Whitney.”
Lianna paid the boy no mind and she walked straight up to Captain Fox, coughing at the fumes caught in her throat. “Is it over?” She waved away the lingering smoke.
Jason wrung at the brown weather-beaten hat he held. “I’m sorry, Capt’n. She wouldn’t listen to reason. When the noise settled, she insisted she come on deck.”
“It’s all right, Jason. I’m sure Miss Whitney was just frightened.”
“Frightened?” Lianna frowned. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I was not frightened.” Well, maybe a little. Oh, all right. I was terrified. “I had to know if you had been overcome. I did not intend to let The Serpent fall into the Royal Navy’s possession. Nor was I intending to be captured.”
Zane crossed his feet and leaned against the railing. “The Serpent is in my possession. If I had been seized, dear lady, how would you have gone about retrieving the medallion from Commodore Bennington?”
Ooh. He’s a smug one. “Well, I…” Looking charming… “I’d figure out something.” King suits him well. “Yes, I’d use my feminine wiles.” Argh. You didn’t just say that, did you?
Zane and Blade grinned at one another, Jason shifted uncomfortably well aware he needed to be elsewhere, and Henri tried to make an escape with a bottle of rum.
“What? You don’t think I could seduce the Commodore?”
“You’d get a better response out of a dead fish before you’d get a rise out of Bennington.” Blade gave Zane a good elbow in his side.
“Huh.” Henri said. “I hear the only thing he can get to stand at attention is his lap dog, Trent.” He took a swig and another step away.
“Go on!” Blade slapped at his thigh.
“Aye. The girls in Port Royal say so.”
Zane nodded, his smirk indicating he thoroughly enjoyed the conversation. “He wouldn’t give you the opportunity. You’re dead weight, extra baggage to him. He’d either have you imprisoned or, more likely, lost at sea. And, no offense, Miss Whitney, but you are an accident waiting to happen.”
Lianna huffed. “Now see here, Captain Fox.” She raised her chin a fraction.
“Don’t go getting your scanties in a knot.”
She couldn’t keep from reacting by widening her eyes, shocked by his remark.
“You’re a bonny of a lass,” Zane continued. “Just that you come off like a soused elephant in a shop full of china dishes.”
Lianna squared her shoulders.
“I think I need to help clean something,” Jason said. The lad made a straight line for the opposite side of the ship.
Lianna’s voice rose with the steam of her anger. “Not only are you saying that I am a disastrous, incompetent temptress, but now I’m fat, too?”
“Blimey.” Henri took another step, widening the distance. Lianna, quick as a flash, snatched the rum from Henri’s grasp. He looked down at his empty palm and whimpered.
Blade sidestepped the other way. “Uh-oh.”
“That’s not what I said.” Zane straightened, standing his ground.
She narrowed her eyes on the captain, taking a long swig of the strong spirit.
“You must admit you tend to attract a good deal of misfortune.” His tone suggested a hint of regret in his taunts.
She handed the bottle back to Henri. He shook it a little, held it up to the sunlight, and then flipped it over. Only a drop slid out of the neck. “Another dead man.” Henri sighed. His comment extended beyond just the empty bottle.
“’Tis solely in your company,” she quipped. “Perhaps ’tis you, not me, who is prone to these recent mishaps.”
“If it is true, then only because you are a distraction.”
“Ah. That being the case, I shall call my wiles successful.”
Zane smiled, conceding he had been bested. And not a moment too soon.
The ship began to glide on the water as wind unfurled the open sails. The landscape slowly slid from right to left behind the scampish captain she faced. Graveled, she looked to Zane.
“It appears that with the sudden departure of your passage home, you will be my guest a while longer.”
“Guest?” Again? Not that it was necessarily a bad thing being in his charge.
“Unless you fancy being my prize, instead.”
“Is there a difference?” She carped, adding a deep scowl.
“Aye. I can be avaricious with my bounty.” His demeanor darkened.
Blade cleared his throat. “Uh, I hate to break up this riveting raillery, but we have another problem.”
“Problem?”
“Situation, really. Nonetheless, you won’t be pleased.” He jerked his head toward a small boat nearing the brig.
“What the poxed devil?” Something very threatening resonated low and ugly in Zane’s intonation.
They hurried to the rear of the vessel.
“Doing a fair job keeping up to a moving ship.” Blade made what seemed an instinctive move to check himself of his weapons.
Zane called to the nearest seaman. “Throw out a line.”
Henri, on the balls of his feet, peered over the edge. “Do my deadlights deceive me? Is that? Oh, perish and plague. We be marked for it now.”
“You don’t need to be superstitious to know we’re in for some trouble.” Blade cracked his knuckles.
“I should cut the line,” Zane said through clenched teeth.
CHAPTER 7
Lianna looked to the little boat and then looked to Zane, looked back at the little boat and back again to Zane. A bulging vein manifested itself on his forehead. And she had thought she was a trial. Evidently, someone had her beat.
She squinted to see who made the gallant effort to catch the brig in a rowboat. A young lad. No. A young woman. The lone woman climbed up the entryway line and jumped with both feet on board.
Lianna noted her bronzed skin, long dark brown hair pulled back to her nape, large dark almond-shaped eyes, and full lips. She wore men’s trousers, a red sash at her waist from which hung a cutlass, and a brown fearnought jacket. Her thin figure did not have too many curves, but she made up for it by wearing her tunic unlaced showing much of her taut cleavage. Even in men’s clothing she was an exquisite, almost exotic beauty.
By the expression on Zane’s face, this woman fell far short of a welcomed visitor. No arms wide, no hugs, no Right pleased to see ya. Only glaring and silence.
Blade made no cordial movement either.
“Captain Zane Fox.” The stranger showed off her alluring smile. “Forgive me for my intrusion. When I saw the Rissa anchored in the bay, I just had to come pay my respects to my dear friends. I’m sorry I missed all the excitement. It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough.” Zane stood stiff, his nostrils flaring as the young woman continued on, undaunted.
“You’re looking very good, Zane. You too, Blade.” She turned and winked at the blond man.
“And Henri, don’t you look dandy. Still fancy the ribbons and bows, I see.”
Henri spat at her buckled shoes.
“Missed.” She chirped and twirled away.
The brash caller took a few steps in to better scan the ship. “I am so glad to see that you’re still alive, Zane. I was afraid you might have met with a hangman, or worse, swallowed the anchor for a parcel of land.” She stopped a breath away from Zane, standing almost as tall as he.
“What is it that you want, Sadie?”
Lianna let her mouth go slack. Sadie? Sadie Greene? Uh-oh. ’Twas no wonder why the entire crew stalled at a standstill. On closer inspection, the ship suddenly seemed smaller. Hard-bitten tars gathered in and the mood spoiled with the evil sneers upon their dirty faces.
Sadie slid her gaze to Lianna. She traced her eyes over her from head to toe. Lianna bit her lower lip. The girl wasn’t much younger than herself but Lianna wanted to shrink with the tinge of intimidation at the woman’s slow consideration.
“And who do we have here? Another one of your piteous jade conquests, Zane?”
Zane moved to unsheathe a gully tucked into his belt. Blade put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.
Lianna had long grown tired of being dubbed a tainted piece. Confound it. What was it about her that made everyone think she sold her goods? Just who was this woman to say such a thing about a complete stranger? She was in dire want of being put in her place.
“Such a sour temperament.” Lianna put her hands on her hips and promenaded closer to the girl. “I don’t believe your conceit warrants my introduction to you.”
“Ha! A fiery one. You seem to have a penchant for those, don’cha Zane?” She ribbed him with her elbow.
“What do you want?” said Zane.
“Or is she yours Blade?” Sadie ignored Zane. Clearly she cared not that she stabbed Lianna with offensive slurs. “Maybe she belongs to you both.”
“Sadie –”
“For your information,” Lianna interrupted Blade before he could finish, much less start, what he intended to say. “I happen to be a business associate to Captain Zane.”
Sadie crisscrossed her arms over her chest. “I bet.” She snickered with amusement. “Business must be slow.”
“Why, you spiteful bitch.” The snap that broke the mule’s back cracked in Lianna’s head. She didn’t know this wench from Pirate Pete, but she sure as hell would not take her biting insults. She lunged for the woman.
Zane swung his knife up as Sadie drew her cutlass ready to slice Lianna open, deflecting the sword before it made deadly contact. Blade picked up Lianna and swung her over his shoulder, carting her off from within reach.
Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure Page 9