Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Eleanor’s gut tightened as she lifted the spyglass to her eye. The dark clouds that surrounded Port Royal had not yet reached them, out on the open sea, but Eleanor knew it would not be long before they did so. As she watched, the Savage Soul emerged from the clouds, the lanterns on their deck clearly visible in the growing darkness.

  "What are we to do, Captain?"

  Lifting her chin, Eleanor drew in a long breath. She was not going to keep running, like an injured dog. Instead, she was going to make a stand.

  “We fight,” she said, quietly. “There is no other way to push them from us and I will not spend the next few days and weeks running from them. That is no display of courage.”

  To her surprise, the first mate grinned. “Very good, Captain.”

  Eleanor merely nodded, walking closer and shouting her orders. “All hands hoay! Batten down the hatches and prepare to blow the Savage Soul down!”

  An eruption of cheers met her words as the men began to run across the ship, preparing the cannons and ensuring it was ready to meet the Savage Soul. Eleanor knew that their cannons had a longer range than the other ship, which gave them something of an advantage. The sound of splintering wood crashed through her mind as she remembered the last time there had been such a battle. They had been badly beaten but had still come out the victor. The ship had taken weeks to repair, and she did not want to have to go through such a thing again.

  She needed a plan.

  Striding back to her quarters, she picked up her cutlass and slung it through her belt. She would fight with her crew, defending her father and his ship with every breath she had in her.

  “They be coming, Captain!”

  The first mate’s shout had her rushing back to the helm, grasping the wheel as she saw the Savage Soul grew closer.

  “Are they in range of our cannons?”

  “Not yet, Captain.”

  Grasping the spyglass from him, she studied the approaching ship. An idea hit her.

  “Prepare the cannons with a bar and chain shot.”

  “What be you thinking, Captain?” Morgan asked, after shouting the orders.

  Eleanor handed him the spyglass before hauling on the wheel, turning them broadside. “We must be in position. When they begin to turn broadside to have us in range of their cannons, begin firing. We must damage their sails and rigging with the bar and chain. Then they will be dead in the water.”

  “They won’t be able to continue turning,” the first mate finished, his eyes widening as he realized the extent of her plan. “They will be at our mercy.”

  Eleanor nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. “And I have no intention of allowing Captain Wayland any kind of freedom,” she bit out. “He is mine.”

  * * *

  “Fire!”

  Eleanor’s breath was in her throat as she screamed one order after another. Her plan had worked out exactly as she’d intended, with the Savage Soul already floundering in the water. The bar and chains she had fired at them had damaged their sails and rigging to the point that they were unable to turn their ship in the water and get the Gunsway in range of their own cannons. Eleanor could see men already climbing the rigging in an attempt to fix it, ordering her crew to push their own ship closer to the Savage Soul.

  She swallowed, hard. Should they board the boat? Or leave them in reach of those in Port Royal? If she did that, then the crew were bound to face the noose, and she did not like the thought of sending men to their death for piracy. They needed to have the opportunity to join her crew, although she would ensure they knew exactly what would be expected of them in return for their loyalty. At least then they could choose to make their escape.

  “Do we board, Captain?”

  Thinking hard, Eleanor shook her head. “No, we will not.” Turning to one of her crew, she pointed to him. “You there, take a message to the Savage Soul. They are to either join us or we will leave them to the Navy at Port Royal, who I’m sure will be along within minutes of sunrise.” Nerves clawed at her. “We must be hasty, do you understand?”

  “Right away, Captain!”

  Within minutes, a small boat was lowered from the Gunsway, filled with four men. The rest of her crew were ordered to ensure their safe passage, and, having armed themselves, remained on deck. It did not take more than a few shots for the men on the Savage Soul to realize what was expected. After all, there was a pirate's code for them to abide by. Negotiating with their very lives was not something anyone should ignore.

  Eleanor held her breath, twisting her fingers together as the boat reached the Savage Soul. The moon shone down brightly on the waters, giving her enough light to see by, but one glance towards the dark clouds at Port Royal told her that they did not have long. The moment those clouds reached them, it would be nigh impossible to sail anywhere.

  “Do you think we can trust them, Captain?” the first mate asked, as they saw the small boats of the Savage Soul being lowered. “It looks like they mean to accept your offer.”

  Eleanor’s eyes darkened, her hand moving to rest on the handle of her cutlass. “No, we don’t. After all, they are pirates.” She gave him a grim smile. “Captain Wayland, whatever his intentions or hopes, will be shut in the brig the moment he comes aboard.”

  Morgan nodded.

  "And tell our crew to remain vigilant," she finished, slowly drawing her cutlass out as the crew from the Savage Soul finally made it to the Gunsway. "This could all be a trap."

  * * *

  The moment the final crew hand from the Savage Soul stood on the deck, Eleanor knew her instincts had been correct. Their captain wore a relaxed smile, making her tense. Her men had removed weapons from the crew of the opposing ship, but she knew there would be some hidden out of sight, in boots or pant legs.

  “Where is Captain Adams?” Captain Wayland asked, sweeping off his hat in an elaborate bow. “I must thank him for his kindness.”

  Eleanor tensed, not taken in by the man’s attempt to appear jovial and willing to give up his ship so willingly. “You are to be locked in the brig,” she replied, tersely, refusing to answer his question. She nodded to Morgan, who moved forward – only for her entire deck to explode with action.

  The Savage Soul crew ran, as one, at the crew from the Gunsway, all of whom fired immediately. Unfortunately, their guns were not particularly accurate, so soon the sound of swords clanging echoed across the water as the Savage Soul crew had taken the advantage of surprise and lifted swords and cutlasses off her men as they fired their guns.

  Eleanor did not hesitate. Swinging her cutlass, she joined the fray, fighting for her ship and her father’s name.

  One young crew hand leapt, catlike, from the helm directly in front of her, waving his curved blade in figure eights multiple times. Eleanor cracked a smile, completely unintimidated. The man clearly thought she was untrained in battle, but he was about to suffer the consequences of his foolishness. For a brief moment, she saw uncertainty in her opponent’s eyes, immediately grateful for the advantage.

  Advancing forward, Eleanor held her cutlass steady, waiting for her opponent to make a move. As she had expected, the man charged at her with his curved blade upheld, going to his foreswing and following it with a backswing. Eleanor dodged the first and met the second with her cutlass, throwing her entire body weight behind her attack. It pushed his blade back, although she had not quite managed to knock it free of his hands.

  Her opponent recovered quicker than she had expected. His arcing shot sliced through her shirt close to her belly, the tip of his sword only just missing her flesh as she stumbled back across the deck. Without a second to spare, Eleanor swung her cutlass, attempting to pierce the man's skin herself, but missed by only a fraction of an inch. She could see the smirk on her opponent's face, apparently believing that she was going to go down in a matter of minutes. Anger ate through her, filling her with a white hot rage.

  This was her ship.

  This was her crew.

  She had offered kindn
ess, but had been met with attack. She had been naive. She was trying to emulate her father, but instead had made a decision that could cost her the ship, or at the very least the respect of her crew. This attack was not entirely unexpected, but she absolutely would not allow such an act to go unpunished. She was not about to stand here and lose the Gunsway. She had made a poor decision and now had to prove her mettle.

  With a shout, she pushed forward, swinging heavily with her cutlass. Shouts and cheers from all around her let her know that her crew were doing well, overcoming the attack from the Savage Soul.

  Striking upwards, her first two strokes were met with an easy defence by the pirate, only for her to change her step, bend at the knee and strike forward. The cutlass ate through her opponent as easily as air and, as she withdrew her sword, he fell to his knees, looking at her with tortured eyes.

  Eleanor did not have time to wait for his death, turning on her heel and preparing to fight once more.

  “You are not the captain.”

  Captain Wayland stood in front of her, a gun pointed directly at her chest. A slow grin crossed his face as he lifted one eyebrow.

  “An imposter, are you?” He regarded her carefully, tilting up the brim of her hat with his other hand. “Ah, I see now. You are that daughter of his.” His smile widened. “Perhaps I might take my pleasure with you before you die.”

  "I am the captain," she replied, as sweat beaded on her forehead. "And you will not win this fight." Glancing to her left, she saw her crew was rounding up the rest of the Savage Soul men, with some of the dead already being thrown into the water.

  “As you can see, Captain,” she continued, mockery in her voice. “You have no status here. Your ship is lost to the Navy at Port Royal, your crew are under my control.” She grinned at him, her heart lifting in triumph. “Now why don’t you step back, before I feed you to the fishes?”

  His smile fell from his face as her crew slowly merged around her, ensuring there was no place else for him to go. He waved his gun menacingly, the only threat he had left.

  “Then I may as well remove you from your position, Captain,” he sneered. “At least then I can rest in the brig knowing that I have finally defeated my enemy.”

  Eleanor went white with shock, hearing the sound of a gun ring out. Closing her eyes, she waited for death to take her, for the pain to scream through her body – but instead, she felt nothing.

  A sudden thud had her opening her eyes, only to see Captain Wayland lying on the deck, dark liquid seeping from his body.

  “What?” she gasped, looking around. “How?”

  “Eleanor.”

  Looking up, she saw her father clutching the rail, his face white in the moonlight. A smoking gun was held in his hand, which dropped to the deck with a clatter as he fell on his knees.

  “Father!” she cried, running as fast as she could to him, managing to catch him just as he collapsed entirely. “Father, no!”

  “You are captain now,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering. “The crew stands with you.”

  Eleanor turned to glance at the assembled crew, all of whom nodded as one as they removed their caps from their heads, showing respect to her as well as her father.

  “You are brave and bold and strong, Eleanor,” her father whispered, his hand tightening on hers. “You are the best daughter a pirate could have asked for. Or any man, for that matter.” As he said his last words, the skies opened up and the rain that had threatened came pouring down. Eleanor did not pay any attention as the thunder cracked and the sky lit up by lightning. His voice became breathy, as he slowly faded away. “I will see you again, daughter.”

  “No!” A scream left Eleanor’s throat as her father’s hand fell, limp, to the deck. With tears pouring down her face, she bent over his body, placing her head on his chest but feeling no breath in his lungs.

  He was gone.

  9

  Eleanor was numb, her eyes on her father’s body wrapped in cloths. Someone in the crew spoke a few words, but Eleanor couldn’t summon the strength to say a single word. Her heart was torn.

  It had been two days since her father had passed. Upon his death, she had been forced to hide her grief and continue with her command of the ship. It had been unthinkably difficult, but she had no other choice as the new captain of the Gunsway.

  The body of Captain Wayland had been thrown, unceremoniously, into Davy Jones' locker, and what was left of his crew threatened with much the same fate if they so much as attempted to escape. She had not wanted to show them even the slightest bit of kindness but had done so nonetheless, knowing that it was what her father would have wished her to do.

  She had sent a boat of her own crew to plunder the Savage Soul, where they found a fine host of treasure.

  The Savage Soul crew hands had been given a choice: remain and serve on the Gunsway, or be returned to the Savage Soul where they might attempt to make their own way back to Port Royal, or wait to be captured by the Royal Navy. She had not been in the least surprised when the first mate of the Savage Soul had taken the option of returning, as well as two other sailors. She had merely nodded, and the men had been forced to walk the plank.

  They had cried out in protest, apparently believing that she was going to grant them the privilege of using the smaller boats, but she had remained steadfast. She made them swear to her that they would never reveal her identity, or she would come after them and hang them herself. She respected their desire to remain with their ship, and had been forced to acknowledge that there had been something of a relief in her heart when she had seen the three men begin to swim back towards the wreckage of the Savage Soul.

  They would have been picked up by the Royal Navy by now, she was sure of it. Not that it mattered. The only thing that mattered was her father’s body, wrapped up tightly and ready to hit the waves in burial. She had sewn him into his hammock herself, weeping as she did so. The privacy had allowed her some time to grieve in peace, pressing his cold hand with hers for the last time.

  “May he rest in peace,” she murmured, nodding jerkily at Morgan. She watched, tears blurring her vision, as the body dropped from the side of the ship into the waves, landing with a great splash. Guns were fired in salute, as the bell rang out in his memory.

  Eleanor blinked furiously, putting the captain’s hat firmly back on her head. It was time for her to speak to the men.

  “You have accepted me as captain, and I am grateful for that. To the world, for the time being, I will remain Captain Adams — the Captain Adams they have known for so long. Not all will accept me as you have.”

  A murmur of agreement ran through her loyal crew, although the newcomers still regarded her with suspicion.

  "When we are out at sea, I will be as I am now,” she said, dressed in her shirt and breeches but with her long locks flowing in the wind. “But should we come across another ship, or even when we dock at the port, I will disguise myself as a man. That way I can keep our reputation as the strongest, most powerful pirate ship that ever sailed across these waters intact."

  All eyes turned to her, and she saw her first mate nod in approval. She knew that the idea of having a woman in charge was difficult for many of the pirates, but she was going to prove to the world that she could captain a ship – and captain it well.

  “Should I hear that any of you have spoken of my true identity, I will make sure that your feet meet the plank,” she warned, her voice dropping. “Except the weights in your pockets will make it impossible to go anywhere but below the waves.” The crew grew silent once again. “I demand loyalty, just as my father did. Anyone who crosses me will be chased across the seas until their life is brought to an end by my hand.” Eleanor knew she had to captain with a strong hand, ensuring her power remained intact. She would do what she had to. “Stay loyal to me and you will be paid well. I have no desire to lower any of the standards my father set. A devoted crew is worth more than any treasure we can find. Although,” she continued, managing to smile just
a little, “We have more than enough of that already.”

  The crew murmured again, but this time the tone was light.

  “Now, we toast to Captain Adams,” she finished, nodding to Morgan, who began to hand out the liquor she had set aside. “We will drop anchor and spend the remainder of the evening and the night in this place. Remember Captain Adams. The best and bravest of us all.” She lifted her glass high, hearing the sailors mutter her words back to her, before draining her glass. Then, turning on her heel, she marched back into her father’s cabin – which she could now call her own.

  The brandy burned down her throat and into her chest, helping her keep her resolve until the door shut behind her. It was only then that she allowed herself to sag against it, weakness seeping into her limbs as the loss of her father struck her anew. He was the only family she had ever had, and now he was gone. It was quite true that some of the crew were like family to her as well, but blood ties were different. Tears began to drip from her eyes down onto her cheeks as she put her hat back down on the writing desk by the large window, seating herself in the chair beside it. Looking out across the sea, she saw the sun begin to sink low in the sky. It would soon hit the horizon, turning the sea red and gold. It was always a beautiful sight to behold, but Eleanor’s heart was still heavy with grief and pain.

  She would captain as her father had, being both strong and generous. Her father’s kindness to the poor was something she would continue, helping those who had no means to support themselves. Eleanor knew it would take some time for the new crew hands to accept her, and they might still refuse to give her their loyalty, in which case there was only one end for them. Harsh and unyielding, Eleanor was determined to have a faithful and devoted crew, one who would do as she asked whenever she asked. She could not demand anything less.

  * * *

  Thomas grimaced at the three pirates now being frogmarched into the prison cells. They had said very little, but one had told him that Captain Wayland was now at the bottom of the ocean, killed by Captain Adams.