Sin-Jin let out a sigh. The man had made his point clear. If he didn't do anything, they would surely be lost. He couldn't let that happen, not with Rachel aboard. "It seems that there's no escaping it, is there?" It was a rhetorical question.
Franklin raised his voice as the noise grew lower. "There are wars everywhere, my lad. Some are just noisier and bigger than others. We're all called on to do our part, one way or another." So saying, Franklin knelt heavily and addressed himself to the captain's wound.
Sin-Jin turned and saw the pirate ship drawing closer. Their torches were lit. Flames licked the sky like the tongue of a cat moving along its lips at the sight of a meal. Yes, they were set to board them. And to plunder. He looked at Rachel and remembered her story. If they were boarded, she'd be ravaged.
No. Not, by God, while he had breath in his body.
"You," he turned to the sailor closest to him. "Get the men together."
The man only wanted to find a hiding place below deck. "But—"
There was no arguing with the look in Sin-Jin's eyes. Nor any shrinking from its piercing gaze. "I said, get the men together, or you're all lost!" He raised his voice so that the sailors could hear him above their own feverish cries. "And gather your muskets. Muskets, swords, anything you can use as a weapon. Find them quickly. You'll be defending your very lives before the next quarter of an hour is gone."
Sin-Jin took Rachel's hand and pulled her to her feet as Franklin ministered to the captain. "I want you to go below. Now."
There was fear in her eyes. But stubbornness overshadowed it. "I told you once, Sin-Jin, I'll not be cowering in some corner."
He gripped her by her shoulders. "I don't want to have to worry about you."
She pulled away, but her voice lowered. Rachel understood the feelings that made him order her away and was grateful. But it wouldn't change anything. "Fine. Then don't."
Franklin interceded. There was no time to be lost in this. "There's no changing her mind, Sin-Jin." He ripped the edge of his nightshirt to use as a bandage for the captain's wound. "You might as well save your breath and your energy. You're going to need them both."
Sin-Jin scowled as he looked at Rachel, her hair flying in the wind like a dark reddish banner. She'd be a prize for any of them. He cursed the day they set sail, but there was no good in that. What was done was done.
Franklin's voice brought him back. "What do you propose I do?"
Sin-Jin sliced the air with his sword, testing its weight. He found himself wishing for his old regiment and wondering if he was going to die so soon after tasting paradise. He looked squarely into the old man's bespectacled eyes. “Pray.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Duncan Fitzhugh's hand tightened on his cutlass as his ship, The Golden Reward, drew steadily closer to the merchant vessel. The wind and the gods were all in his favor, at least for the moment.
He smiled to himself, knowing that both could shift whimsically within an instant. They had before, many a time. He himself was a product of luck, both good and bad. His father was highborn, his mother the stable master's daughter he raped in a drunken binge one summer's eve. It had taken Duncan nineteen years to repay the wrong done to his mother, but he had and gladly.
Payment of the debt had placed the price on his head he bore now and sent him to the high seas to make his fortune. He couldn't complain. Privateering had seemed a good enough way to earn his living, especially when his family of unfortunates steadily grew beneath his guidance. He had responsibilities now. There were women to feed, children to nurture and old ones to give comfort to.
Had he been born on the right side of the blanket, he would have been able to do all this and more as easily as taking snuff.
But then, he mused philosophically as he leaned against the railing, had he been born on that side, he would have never met this family of wayward thieves and misfortunates to begin with, except, perhaps, at the point of a sword.
He felt himself rich in ways that wealthy men could not begin to fathom.
As it was, Duncan had fallen in with this band when he was orphaned at ten. Then they had lived in the shadows and alleys, scavenging for food. They had fed him scraps, clothed him in rags and gave him as good as they had themselves. He couldn't have asked more of them.
On his own, he learned how to use a sword almost as well as he learned to use his wits. So schooled, he bided his time until the day he could avenge his mother's rape by the man who gave him seed.
When the time had come, Duncan found that revenge was not sweet, only final. He took to the sea the very night he killed his father. To remain would have meant risking death at the hands of his sire's legitimate sons, half brothers who would have liked nothing better than to kill their bastard sibling.
And now, years later, Duncan led the very people who had taken him in, and saw to their needs. He was a privateer, not a pirate, and proud of the distinction though it was lost on many. Fat purses and fat bounties saw his family through many a winter.
There was always another winter coming soon.
The ship that bobbed and wobbled before him would be an easy matter to take, he thought. "Brian, raise your torch," he ordered.
Placing his spyglass to his eye, Duncan attempted to get a better view. The ship indeed had the look of a merchant vessel about it. If nothing else, there might be someone of importance on it to ransom. Like as not, there would be goods aboard to sell. It would put food in his people's bellies and clothes on their backs. And that's all he cared about.
There was a full moon. It wasn't the best of times to strike. He preferred a crescent moon. Then nature allowed him to steal up on the unsuspecting vessel like a silent cat, stalking a bird in its garden. But it had been a while between vessels and necessity governed his decision.
To add to the problem, some fool had fired before he gave the signal and had given the men aboard the merchant vessel warning, destroying a mast. But he scanned the deck with his spyglass and saw no one who could give him concern. They were all scurrying about like headless chickens, fearing for their lives.
They needn't concerned themselves, he thought. He wasn't a blood thirsty man. Neither he nor his men had any use for torture for pleasure's sake. Their only concern was the bounty.
Duncan paused for a moment and squinted. There was a woman on deck. From what he could discern, she was a comely wench. A woman with long, flowing hair and what looked to be a pistol in her hand. A woman of spirit, he thought with a laugh. Perhaps tonight the boarding might be interesting after all.
The cannon's fire was but to frighten them. He had no desire to sink the ship or send men to their graves unless they opposed him. It was boarding the ship that interested him. And collecting its treasures. Human and otherwise, he mused, looking at the woman one last time before closing his spyglass. Without so much as a glance, he handed the spyglass to the young man at his side. An apprentice he had rescued from the hangman's noose.
"All right, lads," Duncan called out and all turned toward the sound of his voice, waiting. "A few more feet and we can board them." Duncan pulled his cutlass from its sheath and brandished it aloft. "At the ready!"
Each able man ran to the starboard side, ready to board the vessel. Ready and willing to follow Duncan to hell if he asked them.
"Remember, we're here to plunder. Kill only to save your own lives." He scanned the faces of his men. "That means you too, Hawkins."
He didn't like Hawkins. The mean-spirited man was a threat to all of them. But to date, he had done nothing to warrant expulsion. It was just a feeling Duncan nursed within his belly. He had found his "feelings" to seldom be wrong.
As the two ships drew closer, like partners in a minuet, Duncan felt his blood surging. His long, golden brown hair fluttering in the breeze, he was poised like a sleek golden hawk, ready to strike.
In the space of ten minutes, Sin-Jin had done all that he could. Above protests and moans, he'd made the men all arm themselves. The Charleston was not
a vessel comprised of fighting men, and many were unfamiliar with weapons. Still, all who took to the sea knew the danger that lurked there. Danger from pirates, from
profiteers which were to Sin-Jin one and the same. And danger from foreign vessels who could impress men into service aboard their own ships.
Though they were armed, they were far from an army. Sin-Jin would have fervently preferred having fighting men with him. And a great many more of them than there were here.
There was a jolt as the two ships bumped sides like two goats butting heads. A frenzy seized the men of the Charleston as a wild, bone freezing cry was heard coming from the pirate ship. Suddenly, they were being boarded, red ants overrunning the black. Shouts and screams for deliverance were heard everywhere.
Sin-Jin was grateful that he had managed to persuade Franklin to go below with the captain. He had done better with Franklin than with Rachel. She had continued to refuse to leave him. She stood next to him now, a pistol in one hand and what appeared to be an old rusted harpoon in the other. She obviously fancied herself a warrior, he thought in frustration.
Pirates spilled out to all parts of the ship.
"Damn you, Rachel, go below!" Sin-Jin shouted to be heard above the wild, bloodcurdling screams.
Fear curled and wound down to her very toes, but she wasn't leaving him. She had to be here with him, no matter what the consequences.
"I do my best work with a pointed object," she yelled near his ear. With terror as a companion, it would have only been worse below deck, imagining him dead. At least here, at his side, she knew.
Duncan easily fought his way over to the woman. He was right, she was comely. Nay, magnificent now that he saw her. She and the tall blond-haired man were obviously together. Their stance before the entrance to the stairs that led below told Duncan that they were guarding something. Or someone. That made it worth his trouble to discover what.
Brandishing his cutlass as if it was an extension of his arm, Duncan fought his way past men with large frightened eyes and inept weapons. Within a few moments, he was standing before the pair.
Hawkins jumped in ahead of him, materializing out of nowhere. Leering at her, he grabbed Rachel's wrist. "Aah, something for a cold night." He smacked his lips and pulled her to him.
Startled, Rachel discharged her pistol. Hawkins screamed and his eyes bulged wide as he fell back, a gaping wound just below his shoulder.
A woman of fire. Admiration burned in Duncan's eyes. "This one is mine," he declared to his men. Cheers and ribald laughter followed his words.
The point of Sin-Jin's sword went up. "The hell she is.
Duncan laughed. At last, a challenge. "And here I thought it was all too easy." He took measure of the man before him and found no lack. "I need a good fight tonight. Are you up to one, American?"
Unlike Duncan, Sin-Jin found no pleasure in challenges of the sword. But he was not about to turn away either. "Try me."
Metal clanked against metal as sword met cutlass beneath a velvet sky. Leader challenged leader and all else stopped as men on both sides fell back to watch and to await the outcome.
It lasted far too long for Rachel. Several times she had to remind herself to draw in air as she watched the two men, so equally matched, thrust and parry in a small circle of death. There was no need to extend the circle. Everyone knew that the fate of the ships would be decided here, between these two.
Duncan was the taller and the younger. He thrived on adversity, on goading his opponent. He knew all the tricks to be plied that would break a man's concentration and make him careless.
A careless man could be easily defeated.
He was enjoying himself, Duncan thought. It had been much too long a time since his abilities with a cutlass had been put to the test. This one fought well. He was a worthy opponent.
Duncan smiled into Sin-Jin's eyes as their hilts crossed and muscles strained. Adversary inches away from adversary. "So, American, she means that much to you. Be assured, I will treat her well."
Sin-Jin thrust him back. Duncan stumbled, but regained his footing and nodded his approval to Sin-Jin.
"You'll never have the chance." Sin-Jin spat the words out, his eyes holding the bold young privateer's.
Sweat beaded across his brow as Sin-Jin matched each lunge, each parry. It had been six years since he had used his sword, but it all returned to him in a single flash, as if the war for him had been only yesterday. Still his arm arched and his back screamed for mercy. Tension riddled through his body.
Duncan fought for the sheer sport of it, for the glory. Sin-Jin had the greater incentive. He fought to save Rachel.
Desperation had helped tip the scale more than once in a battle and it tipped it now. Fevered, Sin-Jin's aim was true, his effort unrelenting. He continued to advance on Duncan. Duncan was forced to back away. The latter caught the heel of his boot in a knothole. With a surprised cry, Duncan fell backward.
Sin-Jin was quick to press his advantage. The point of his sword grazed Duncan's throat as Sin-Jin aimed his weapon there.
"Well done, American." Duncan measured out his words slowly. If he drew too large a breath, the point of the sword threatened to cut into his throat and rob him of his wind altogether.
His white, even teeth gleamed now as Duncan smiled up at his advisary. It seemed a silly time to die, and tripping over his own feet added to the insult. But if death was here, he'd meet it bravely. There was nothing to be gained by supplication and everything to be lost. For all Duncan had was honor, his own brand to be sure, but honor nonetheless, and it was more precious to him than gold.
His smile affixed to his lips, Duncan studied the man towering above him. He couldn't read his eyes. Was there mercy or vengeance there? "Now what will you have done with me?"
Keeping his sword against the pirate leader's throat, Sin-Jin raised his eyes. A motley ring of men surrounded them. He saw that everyone on deck was watching him, watching his hand.
And waiting.
He had no doubts that if he killed the pirates' leader, chaos from the man's crew would ensue instantaneously. And they would be back to where they had been moments ago.
Besides, he had more than his fill of bloodshed already. Enough to last a lifetime. There was no need for more.
Making his decision, Sin-Jin stood back and raised his sword in the air. "Stand up," he ordered the man on the deck.
Surprised, Duncan rose slowly. He rubbed his throat and felt the trickle of blood on his fingers. His eyes never left Sin-Jin as he watched the man warily. "Gladly."
Chapter Thirty
Rachel knew better than to get in the way, but all the forces of heaven and hell couldn't have kept her from Sin-Jin's side. She cleaved to him as she slipped one hand around his waist.
No words were needed between them. Sin-Jin could feel her relief. He squeezed Rachel's hand in silent affection, then dropped it as he urged her behind him. The danger was far from over.
Sin-Jin studied the man who stood before him. Even though he was standing at the threshold of death, there was a lofty defiance in his stance, in the very tilt of his head. With only the moon and the glow from the torches to see by, Sin-Jin could still detect the regal bearing. It was there for all the world to see. The man held himself like a prince.
But princes were scarcely known for their honesty. Sin-Jin had lived long enough to learn that. Still, there was something there, within the man's eyes, that told Sin-Jin he was to be trusted. Sin-Jin knew that the wager he was making was great, but there was no other path open to him.
Sin-Jin lowered his sword a fraction of an inch, though he held it at the ready should the man turn on him and attempt to strike. "If I release you, will you take your men and leave us in peace?"
Duncan eyed the sword for a moment, then raised his eyes to his captor's face. His tone gave away nothing. "You'd trust me?"
God help him, was he being a fool? No, he thought not. A smile that failed to reach his eyes and barely creased Sin
-Jin's lips emerged. "At times like these, there is nothing for men but trust."
Duncan smiled broadly as he crossed his arms before his chest. "A philosopher," he concluded, then glanced down at the sword again. There was a more accurate assessment to be made. "Or a soldier?"
"A former soldier," Sin-Jin corrected. He silently blessed his dead father for insisting that it were so. Had he remained languishing on the manor, it would have served him ill tonight.
Duncan cocked his head. The vessel's flag American. The man was not. The accent was not difficult to detect. "You're not an American," he amended his initial assessment. "British?"
And so was he, Sin-Jin thought, regarding the pirate. He wondered if the man had a thirst to avenge some slight, or if the accent would work to his good. "Yes, if it matters."
His broad shoulders lifted and fell carelessly as Duncan laughed. "No. it doesn't." The hooded green eyes drifted to the woman and lingered a moment, then returned to the face of his captor. He poached discriminately and never on the property of a man he respected. "Noble men need not align themselves with a cause or a country. By nobility, I referred to the spirit, not to the crown."
Duncan regarded the slender blond-haired man before him. He owed the man his life. It would have taken a simple single thrust to bring a fatal end to their duel. He had half expected it. But the man had spared him, placing Duncan in his debt. Duncan had no doubts that if he gave the signal even now, his men could easily overrun and overpower the sailors. They were a pathetic lot if ever he saw one.
But there was a debt and Duncan had his own code to follow. It was what separated him from men like his half-brothers.
"To answer your question," he announced loudly, so that all could hear. "No, I shall not take my leave." Sin-Jin's eyes darkened as his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Duncan noted the movement and grinned. He placed his hand on the sword's blade, as if to nudge it away. His eyes held Sin-Jin's. "At least, not immediately."
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