Uncharted Secrets (Uncharted Secrets, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  “I hear you laughing. Why are you laughing? There is nothing funny about my god-awful state of existence.”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked at me with a straight face. “You’re just so mean for such a tiny thing. It makes me laugh.”

  “Well, at least someone is having fun here.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “You’ll end up having fun, too.” He winked.

  Feeling completely violated by his lustful expression, I wanted to curl up in the corner and hide. Watching him rise to his feet, I thought I might have to. As tall as he stood, I cowered beneath his threatening stature. His shoulders were broad, and beneath his coat I could tell that his arms were massive. He could snap me like a twig if he wanted to, but he stayed on his side of the table and stretched. “I have work to do. Lots of it. I’ll have Mister Henderson bring you some warm water to wash up with, then you can make yourself at home in here.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “You’re just going to go and work while I stay in your cabin?”

  “That’s it.” He smiled. “I just got this ship and she needs a bit lopped off the top to increase her speed. I haven’t even looked in all the cabinets yet, but you can look around to find yourself something to do if you want to. Let me know if you find anything interesting.”

  “All right.” I looked at him with my brow furrowed.

  He let out another annoying chuckle as he walked towards the door. At first, I was glad to see him leaving, but my relief was replaced by worry when I heard the sound of an angry mob roaring through the open window. The familiar voices yelled about the death of their captain and demanded the return of their whore. Me.

  Panic surged through my veins. My mind flashed over the horrors I had recently endured, and my entire body began to shake. “No. No. They’ve come back!” I wanted to run and hide, but I was too terrified to move.

  Calmly, Mason peered out the window. “Ah, they have. And they’re looking mighty angry. Suppose I’ll have to go out there and make them sorry they rowed over here.”

  Just then, a dark skinned boy who couldn’t have been much older than me came through the door. His long black hair was braided over his shoulder and wrapped in colorful ribbons. Since he was wearing only a waistcoat with no shirt beneath it, the tattoos covering his arms were on clear display. The foreboding images inked into his skin and the weapons lining his attire made him look far more threatening than any other boy I had ever seen.

  “You’ve got visitors, Captain. They want their whore back.” Looking in my direction, the boy apologized. “Sorry, Miss.”

  “They aren’t getting shit,” Mason barked and draped a baldric over his shoulder. “Stay here with her, mate. I’ll be right back.”

  “Who is he?” I shrieked. “Don’t leave me with him!”

  Rolling his head back, Mason huffed about what an inconvenience I was, then said, “You’re as safe with Shark as you are with me.” Then he stormed out the door.

  Paralyzed by fear, I sat stiff in my chair as Shark said, “Sorry for the rough introduction. And don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

  He went over to the window and watched what I could only listen to from where I sat.

  The roaring intensified for a moment, then silenced enough for me to hear Mason say, “What the hell kind of rude arse greeting is this?”

  “You killed our captain and stole our whore!” one of them shouted. Knowing his voice all too well, I shivered in my skin.

  The rest hollered similar things until Mason silenced them again. “That I did and there isn’t a damned thing you’re going to do about it.”

  Stunned by his blatant admittance of guilt, they hushed for a moment until one of them blasted, “You’ll be sorry!”

  “Oh, will I?” Mason instigated. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me just what a bunch of gore-bellied pansies like you are going to do to make a man like me sorry.”

  “We’ll come after you in the night!”

  My mind spiraled in fear.

  “We’ll burn your ship while you’re sleeping!”

  I started to sweat.

  “Just give us our whore back and we’ll leave you be.”

  Trembling in my seat, I waited for Mason to come back inside to exchange me for his peace of mind, but rather, he just laughed, “Well, blow me down. She must have something sweet about her. With that whole island swarming with whores, what makes you so hungry for this one?”

  “We were going to sell her.”

  “So if I paid you for her, you’d go away?”

  They agreed they would, but Mason said, “No. After coming upon my ship this way, and disturbing the fun I was having with her, I reckon you’re the ones who owe me. Now, I suggest you just get on to rowing your cute little boat back to your beat-down ship. And if you tell your other mates how unsuccessful your attempt to frighten Mason Bentley was, I’ll be willing to forgive the trespass.”

  “Mason Bentley?!” one of them wailed.

  “That’s what my mother named me afore she died having me.”

  “Well, we didn’t know that.” They all chimed in to retract their hostile behavior.

  “So, you’ve heard the name, eh?”

  “Aye! We just heard about how you hanged six men from the yard during a hurricane!”

  “And everyone knows about the way you slice one body part off of your captives.”

  Another clarified, “He has a sea chest in his cabin where he keeps them... Pickles them in small jars of rum, he does.”

  As if this dreadful report had not mortified me enough, Mason answered, “Aye, that way I can remember who they were if I ever come eye to eye with them again.”

  “Except for the one you cut both the eyes out of,” one said with a shiver.

  They went on with a few other horrifying stories that made me think I should escape before my limbs ended up pickled in his jars.

  “All right, all right.” Mason tamed their uproar. “Be on your way afore I slice your flapping skins off your mealy bones and stretch out your sunburnt hides to make sails for my longboats.”

  “Ha!” Shark laughed. “He scared them away! There isn’t but four of us men here on deck and he didn’t even draw a weapon.”

  While Shark jumped and hooted in excitement, I laid my face on the table. On the verge of fainting, I took a few deep breaths and felt my heart rate slowing as I heard the angry mob rowing away. He had done it. They were gone. Though I was relieved by his success, I was unnerved by his tactics. The murderous things he had admitted to caused me to see my dreadful salvation in a new, and terrifying light. As I fretted over the possibilities of my future, Mason opened the door.

  Scared to death, I shot up in shock. Without mind for my dramatics, he sat down and poured a glass of rum. “They’re gone,” he casually stated, then passed the bottle to Shark. “Did you blokes get along?”

  Shark explained, “Oh, uh, we didn’t even talk. I just watched the show from the window.” Straightening his shoulders, the absurdly young pirate tamed his childish excitement. “But I had my gun ready, to take them out if I had to.”

  “Sure you did.” Mason winked, seeing right through his show.

  “You aren’t afraid they’ll come back?” Shark asked.

  “If I was afraid of them they wouldn’t be so afraid of me, now would they?”

  “I guess you’re right. And they were shaking in their breeches, they were.”

  They went on talking and laughing about the horrifying moment like it was the funniest day of their lives. As for me, I didn’t want to experience another moment of this day. Laying my head on my arms, hearing them laughing and cursing in the background, I began to doze off.

  “Are you tired?” Mason asked, startling me out of my shallow slumber.

  “No. Yes. I…I was. I’m not...” I stuttered, afraid to tell him the truth and afraid to tell him a lie. I’d just as soon never speak to him at all.

  “You can lie down if you’d like,” he said to me, then fanne
d his hand at Shark. “Get on out of here, Sharky Boy.”

  Why was he shooing him out? What was he going to do? My heart slammed into my throat as the door shut behind Shark. When Mason set his glare on me, I jumped to my feet. Seeing a knife on the table, I grabbed it and backed up ready to fight for my life. Mason dramatically raised his hands in surrender, but the look on his face made it clear that he only did so to mock me. “Note to self,” he said. “Don’t wake Hannah when she’s napping.”

  With no threat in his pose or on his face, he chuckled at his own stupid joke.

  Suddenly feeling like an idiot, I reluctantly lowered my weapon, but I didn’t want to release it.

  “Do you like that knife?” he asked, and took a shot of rum.

  Unsure of how to answer, I didn’t.

  “You can have it if you like. I have plenty of others.” Of course he did. How else would he skin people alive?

  “Since you’re ignoring me, I’ll assume you want to keep it, so I’ll say, you’re welcome, Hannah.”

  “Why would you give me a weapon?”

  “What can I say? I’m a giver. I’ll give you rum, too, if you want some.” He poured me a drink.

  “I don’t drink.”

  “You should.” He belched. “It might loosen up those tense little nerves of yours. Speaking of, why don’t you sit down? You’re making me nervous standing there with that knife in your hand.”

  “I don’t want to sit.”

  “Oh, that’s right. All of this fussing started because you were tired. The bed’s over there, sweetheart.” He pointed.

  “I don’t want to go to bed.” Once again anticipating his advance, I kept my newfound weapon nearby.

  He didn’t move. “All right. What do you want?”

  I had no idea what I wanted. I didn’t want to be awake, and I didn’t want to be asleep. I had escaped one nightmare only to end up stuck in another, and once again, there was nowhere to hide.

  Chapter 6

  Vanished

  The next few days passed slowly, and quietly. Other than allowing me his bed to sleep in, and seeing to it that I was well-fed and comfortable, the fearsome Mason Bentley left me alone. After all I had been through, I had thought alone would be nice, but in the silence I found myself horribly tormented by the vile memories that would forever haunt my soul.

  In an attempt to escape my torment, I spent most of my time sleeping, but found no peace in my slumber, either. My dreams were coated with blood and splattered with anguish. Waking in sweat-covered fright, forgetting where I was, then realizing I was still captive on a damned pirate ship where the captain kept body parts in jars, I cursed the Lord for keeping me alive.

  Tossing and turning on those silk sheets, I saw Thomas’ face a million times—smiling at everyone he met, laughing with me in the moonlight, loving me in the night. He was a beautiful soul with a heart of gold, and he was gone. Gone from this earth, and I, I was still here. Here to suffer his loss. Alone.

  X

  Waking one afternoon to the hot sun beating through the window, I came to my feet and looked around. The only sound I heard was that of the timbers creaking. As usual, there was no one around, so I sat down to eat another orange. Peeling the citrus fruit gave me something to do, and the juicy flavor offered the greatest pleasure in my miserable and lonely life.

  As I did each day, I stared at the cabinets. Knowing I’d most likely regret it if I braved the nerve to peek, the unknowing was also driving me mad. The hour passed with no visitors. The silence was unnerving. Maybe I could just peek in one of them. Curiosity was killing me. Unable to contain my urge any longer, I put my hand on the knob. My heart beat wildly in my chest. The suspense was nearly deadly. I opened it.

  Empty.

  Relieved as much as disappointed, I sighed. “All that build up for nothing.”

  “Oh bother, Hannah, would you have been happier if you had found a jar of human hearts? I don’t think so. Empty is a good thing.”

  Good heavens. Was I now the crazy lady who talked to herself? Yes, yes I was, and I was also the crazy lady who was going to open another cabinet. The next was empty, as well, but the one after was full of neatly stored colorful fabrics, and the drawer beneath harbored every sewing tool ever invented. Perhaps I could teach myself to sew. That would give me something to do.

  With my courage bolstered, I decided to open all the other drawers. Some were full of trinkets I had no interest in, and in others there were stacks of books, but in the last one was the greatest find of all. Paint!

  It had been years since I had painted, and I missed the art form greatly. Twiddling my fingers, I wondered if I should get them out. Mason said I could look for something to do, but I just didn’t feel right about the notion of going through his belongings. Yet, the color splashes dried on the side of the jars tempted me like little elves calling me into the forbidden forest. Should I? Should I not?

  While I debated, the door flew open. My heart shot up in my throat and my blood rushed with fear. It was Mason. His presence relieved me as much as it terrified me. Just as I did every time he entered the room, I froze in my tracks, as stiff as a board, and looked at the floor hoping he would just ignore me.

  “Did you find anything in the cabinets?” he asked as he took a seat.

  My first reaction was to lie to him, but following his gaze to an open cabinet, I knew there was no use. “I didn’t find any pickled body parts,” I bravely answered.

  Lowering his face in his hand, he looked to be resisting a laugh. “No? That’s because I keep those in the hold to remind my men to behave.”

  His snickering caused me to doubt his words.

  “Is it true? Do you do those awful things?”

  “Ah, you cut off a man’s ear in the heat of battle and they never let you live it down.” He chuckled as if such a dreadful thing could ever be funny. Noticing my lack of humor, he straightened his face. “Between you and me, I only let them think I do those things.”

  “Why?” I asked, appalled by the concept of allowing such rumors.

  “Because the more men who fear me, the less shit I have to deal with. It keeps the petty inconveniences away.”

  “You’re twisted.”

  “Ah, come on now, I didn’t think up those things myself. I’m good with a sword and I could lead my crew to Hell and back if I had to, but I’m not a murderous lunatic, nor am I a creative storyteller. I just go along with the tales others tell. So, I suppose it’s them who are the twisted ones.”

  Though I was certainly relieved to know he was not the monster I had thought him to be, I was still disturbed by his way of doing things.

  Standing there with my arms crossed, I stared out the window hoping he would go away, but he continued, “Come and sit with me, Hannah.”

  Not wanting to upset him, I did as he commanded.

  As soon as I sat down across from him, he asked, “So what did you find?”

  “I found paint.”

  “Are you going to paint me something pretty?”

  “I…well…No. I am not going to paint you anything.”

  “Mean. Mean. Mean.” He shook his head, then smiled at me slyly. “But can you paint?”

  “I have before.”

  “What sort of pictures?”

  “I like the ocean, and birds.”

  “I like those things too, but I couldn’t draw or paint them if my life depended on it.”

  “Honestly, I don’t paint that well. I am much better at drawing because I have done it more often.” My spine stiffened after the words left my mouth. He had somehow cornered me into conversing with him, and that bothered me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hated him.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” he said, and I flinched when he stood up.

  “Good Lord, woman. Stop being so scared of me.” He walked to the desk. “It makes me feel like a ghastly ghoul watching you flinch and shudder every time I bat an eye. I’ve never hurt a lady in my life and I don’t plan to start n
ow.” Coming back to the table with a quill, an inkwell, and a roll of parchment, he sat back down and passed them to me. “In fact, seeing those bruises on your pretty body makes me want to hurt someone else.”

  Ignoring his half-baked compliment, I eyed the gifts he had delivered, but I didn’t touch them.

  “Come on, beauty, I didn’t walk all the way to that bookshelf, risking life and limb by balancing on this teetering floor for you to deny my offer.” He laughed at his own dramatics.

  Slow and uncertainly, I reached for the quill. Stroking the feather as if it were a living creature, I watched the way the white and grey colors flexed under my fingertips. Enchanted by the possibilities, I dipped the quill in the inkwell, laid the tip on the parchment, and began to draw.

  Watching the ink turn into a swirl that morphed into a feather, which soon enough spread across the page, I felt my heart warming. Warmth. I could still feel. In the lines there were no nightmares, and in the swirls there was no pain. This was my kingdom, my fortitude, and as long as I could draw I would stay somewhat sane. In my own crazy way, of course.

  “That’s nice,” Mason complimented kindly.

  Snapping out of my moment of peace with a startled inhale, I looked at him as I caught my breath. The way he smiled at me caused me to look away as fast as I could.

  “Now, I came in here to ask you about something,” he said, in a business-like tone.

  “What?”

  “Are you a witch?”

  “No! Why? What would make you think that?” I gasped, utterly offended.

  “When I went to town today…”

  “You went to town?” For some reason I was surprised to hear he had left me alone.

  “Don’t worry your pretty cheeks. I left Shark on watch outside your door. Anyhow, while I was ashore I got to talking to an old friend who told me about some things being said around his home island, Barbados.”

  My heart, which had momentarily lightened, quickly plummeted back into the dark and familiar pit of my gut. “What did he hear?” My voice trembled.

  “There are some rumors going round about a little witch who would slink around the shadows of town, hiding beneath the hood of her black cloak. The few who have seen her say she has hair so blonde it’s unearthly, and eyes so blue you might sink into the sea if you look too deep into them. They’re saying she cast her spell on a nobleman’s son, and from the sound of things it seems that poor bloke fell to the bottom of The Locker. For no one has seen him or her since the night of the full moon from which they disappeared. Vanished into thin air, they did.”