The Pirate’s Jewel

by Casie, Ruth A.

  “You could have killed yourself with that, that thing.”

  “I assure you, Darla knows how to wield it.” They both spun and looked at Maxwell. His hand worked his jaw as he got off the bed.

  She rushed to his side and examined his chin. Nothing appeared to be broken.

  He swatted her hands away.

  “We’ve no time for that. You can see to me later.” He went to the door. “Darla, stay here. Wesley, come with me.”

  Wesley said nothing. She followed them to the door.

  “Stay here,” both men said. “And lock the door.”

  With a sigh, she did as they ordered. Alone and with the danger over, she tried to make sense of Wesley. He didn’t appear to fear a woman on the ship like other men. And her reaction to his touch couldn’t be denied. She didn’t need her gift to know he would protect her. He would always protect her. She shook her head to clear her mind. That didn’t matter. Her father and Lord Ewan had other plans.

  She peeked through the window. With the remnants of the storm gone, the red and orange hues of the setting sun reflected off the ship’s wake and became more dreamlike as she was drawn into a vision.

  The deeper she went into the image, the more the ship’s wake boiled. Writhing scales undulated just below the surface, raced behind the ship. Her hand went to her pouch. In a spray of water, she imagined her sea dragon breaching the surface. Her mouth hung open. Gone was her pet’s gentleness and whimsy. Before her was a lethal weapon with fangs bared, ready to strike. In an arc of color, her longtime playmate dove back into the sea.

  The turbulent wake subsided as they approached the port. She moved away from the window too tired to try to understand the significance of the image.

  Ropes were heaved and orders called, signaling they were docking. Moments later, there was a rap on the door. She jumped to her feet. Wesley?

  She hurried to the door, swung it wide, and faced her father and Richards. The men entered. She looked beyond, but no one was there.

  She lingered in hopes he would come down the passageway.

  “Darla,” her father called. “Gather your things. We’ll leave for home as soon as I’m done.”

  He sat at the desk with Richards and pried the knife out of the wood. Richards, his coat torn in places, his face smudged, and his knuckles raw, sat without moving.

  “We must make a full report to Lord Ewan.” Maxwell opened the drawer and removed some parchment. “We can send a man. If he rides all night and takes the coast rather than the inland route he can reach Dundhragon in a day and a half. Yes, that may be best. I’ll prepare a message. You choose a man.”

  “I’ll bring the message myself,” Richards said. “If Lord Ewan has any questions I will be able to answer them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’re not planning to go anywhere. After this voyage the men need rest. I’ll return as soon as I can.” Richards sat back in the chair.

  “Have you met our new soldier?” Her father nodded toward her as he started to write his message.

  “Lady Darla, I understand you held off Fynn, the pirate captain. You were very brave.”

  “The captain? I had no idea.” She wrapped her arms around herself and gave a small shiver.

  “Be careful, m’lady. He’s not one you want for an enemy.” Richards stood as her father handed him the missive. “I’ll leave right away. All the men have gone. You’re the last on the ship.”

  “Come, Darla.”

  “Are you sure all the men are gone?” she asked.

  “If you’re asking about Wesley, he was the first one off the ship. He went in search of Hawker. The pirates attacked the Trade Winds and picked them clean. Come now. It’s home for us.”

  Chapter Six

  Wesley stood on the deck of the Trade Winds beside a battered Captain Hawker, the Sea Diamond in his line of sight. The tall double mast of the ship was hard to miss among the smaller single mast birlinns docked in the harbor.

  “We didn’t spot them,” Hawker insisted spitting out the words. He stood at the rail and looked down at the water. “The fog was thick in the channel. They appeared out of nowhere. They took everything. At least they left us with our lives, most of us that is. The Trade Winds been boarded before. Had some cargo taken. But we never lost a man. That Fynn is an evil one. He tore everything apart. He murdered two of my best men who tried to stop him when he came at me.”

  Wesley stood in silence. He’d lost men and knew the helpless feeling too well. All he could do was let the captain talk.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your silks.” Hawker moved away from the rail. “If there is nothing else, I have two families to visit tonight. I’m not looking forward to this duty. I hope Maxwell and the Association decide to take action. You were lucky on the Sea Diamond.”

  Wesley left Hawker and made his way deep among crates and bales on the dock.

  “Mother will not be happy that you’re returning bruised.”

  Wesley stopped at the sound of Darla’s voice and stepped into the deep shadows. He hurried off the ship to meet with Hawker, but also to avoid Darla. His reaction to her coming to his defense at the risk of her own life angered and confused him.

  “What story will you tell her?”

  Wesley smiled at the laughter in her voice.

  “How I fought off a pirate and he tricked me, but in the end, you came to my rescue.” Father and daughter laughed as they walked by him.

  After a while, when he could no longer hear them, he continued along the water. A small boat waited for him at a remote area of the dock. He released the lines, rowed into the channel, then set the small sail. The remnants of the wind hurried him along. Soon he stood on the shore of Black Island staring north toward Ellenbeich.

  “There you are. I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” Fynn staggered toward him drinking out of a bottle of whiskey.

  “Why wouldn’t I be here?” Wesley looked at Fynn’s blood-soaked shirt, his eyes wide with concern.

  “Did Healer Jack look at you?” Wesley carefully pulled the shirt away from the wound. “By God, Fynn. The wound is still bleeding.”

  “Stop your fussing.” The pirate slapped his hands away. “We just got here. We’ve had a busy day. You know I won’t let Jack near me. Besides, I’ll not let the men think that woman was able to get the best of me. If you hadn’t gotten in the way, she’d be food for the fish by now.”

  “If I hadn’t gotten in the way you’d be lying on the deck, dead.”

  Wesley’s anger boiled to a scalding fury at the idea Fynn would touch Darla. He took a calming breath and they walked to a flat rock where Fynn left a lantern and some food.

  “I relieved Hawker of your silk,” Fynn said as he fidgeted. “Drink some whiskey and cheese, compliments of the Trade Winds.”

  “In a minute. Now sit still. I can’t see what I’m doing if you’re moving.” Wesley raised the lantern higher. “You really should let a healer look at this.”

  Fynn lay on a smooth rock. The whiskey bottle next to him almost drained. Wesley examined the wound.

  “Why’d you stop me? I thought we had agreed to a plan. I knock you out and get the gems in Maxwell’s cabin.”

  Wesley said nothing. He took the whiskey from Fynn and downed an ounce or two then staring at his brother’s wound poured a healthy amount on his patient’s arm.

  “Sard off,” Fynn shouted and tried to stand against Wesley’s strong grip.

  Satisfied he could see the edges of the wound, he took the needle and thread that Fynn had the good sense to bring and sewed him closed in three neat stitches. Once the bleeding stopped, he applied a thick layer of salve, put on a bandage, and offered him a hand up.

  Fynn swatted it away and struggled on his own.

  “Stubborn.” Wesley shook his head. “Be careful not to open the wound. You don’t want to start bleeding.”

  Wesley went to the water’s edge, rinsed off his hands, and dried them on a cloth.

  F
ynn walked toward him as if he was on the deck of a storm-tossed boat, lurching and stumbling.

  “You didn’t answer me. What were you hiding in the cabin? That witch that stuck me, the one that swims like a fish?” Fynn’s speech slurred.

  The pirate snatched the whiskey from where Wesley left it and poured it down his throat, some of the golden liquid dribbling over his chin.

  “She should have drowned long ago. How she got him up still alive …” Fynn mumbled and sucked on the bottle. He lifted it from his lips and searched inside. With a grimace, he tossed the empty bottle as far as he was able. A heartbeat or two later there was a splat when it hit the water.

  Wesley had heard the story before. Fynn told him and his father how he tried to save the boy in the boat all those years ago. He came up for air only to catch sight of ‘the Maxwell witch’ diving and bringing up the boy after he did all the work.

  Fynn waved another whiskey bottle at him.

  “You want some? Hawker won’t miss it.” He brought the bottle to his lips and drank.

  “No, you go on.” As if he could stop him.

  Wesley was ready for Fynn to drone on. It started much the same way. Today it was with the boy he tried to save and ended with taking the blame for the family’s banishment.

  There was no way to reason with him in his current state. God knew how many times he had tried. Saying anything would only make him go on.

  “She stuck you so bad that you almost bled to death.” He snatched the bottle and took a swig for himself.

  “I came nowhere near bleeding to death.” Fynn looked at the bloody clothes all around him, then at Wesley. “That little bitch. Wait until I meet her again. I know exactly how I’ll carve her up and throw her in the water. See if she swims then.”

  “Lay a hand on her and that will be the last thing you do.” He grabbed Fynn by what was left of his shirt. “Don’t be a fool,” Wesley said. “Maxwell didn’t carry any gems of value on this voyage. Keep to the plan. We strike again once we lull Maxwell into a false sense of security. We don’t need him gathering an army to fight us.”

  “While you play the hero? Just don’t become too accustomed to the role or I’ll take you down a peg or two. And I won’t be gentle with you. You want to play with the witch, use her to ruin her father. Hit him where he’ll hurt the most. That shouldn’t be difficult for you, the way you swagger around the London court.”

  The ache in his jaw made Wesley realize he was gritting his teeth. “Our plans never involved Maxwell’s daughter. So leave her out of it.”

  “Are you forgetting who the Maxwells are?”

  No, he didn’t forget it was Maxwell, their father’s closest friend, who betrayed him and, with Lord Ewan’s help, stole their fortune. Those two thieves brought down their family, left them with nothing while they filled their coffers.

  “Not all the Maxwells, just Graeme. And no, I haven’t forgotten.”

  Fynn grabbed the whiskey out of Wesley’s hand and took large gulps. When he came up for air, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Good. Just keep remembering. When will Maxwell be ripe for the picking?”

  “He returns to Dundhragon in a few weeks. I overheard him say he plans to bring Lord Ewan a priceless gem.”

  Fynn rubbed his hands together, a sly look on his face. “That’s when we strike.”

  He watched Fynn reach for his coat and wince as he put it on. “What did you do with the bolts of silk?” he asked.

  “I gave them to our lord and master, the almighty MacAlpin.”

  MacAlpin, the legendary Pirate King was rumored to be merciless, the type of vengeful pirate who would drown a babe in his mother’s own milk if she didn’t give him the pearls around her neck.

  “Did you manage to get anything else?” Fynn asked.

  Wesley took a gem out of his pouch. “I offered to pay Maxwell for my passage with this.”

  “You did?” With a frown, Fynn glanced at the jewel. “Then why do you still have it?”

  “He wouldn’t take it.” He still didn’t understand why Maxwell, a man known for his greed, didn’t take the stone. Puzzled, he put the gem back in his pouch.

  “What game does that money grabbing thief play?” Fynn asked.

  Game? That remained to be seen. So far, all he encountered was a hard-working merchant who cared for his crew and his daughter. Seeing Darla steal onto the ship was a gift. He hid her with the intention of making her indebted to him. He already had Maxwell’s confidence from their various encounters along the trade route. He didn’t anticipate any difficulty getting hers. He hoped she would give him information to use to ruin her father.

  Darla.

  He didn’t need to close his eyes to imagine her. At the dock, he had teased her and found her most charming. He’d almost laughed when she hid among the barrels. At that point, he should have gotten her off the ship, but her rebellion intrigued him. A selfish woman he’d thought, but when she defended him, it was an experience that left him reeling. Only one other person ever came to his defense.

  None of what he learned about Maxwell coincided with what Fynn had told him these last three years. If Maxwell was ruthless, how did that explain the affection and respect the sailors obviously had for him? And the affectionate relationship he had with his daughter?

  Had Maxwell changed? Did he feel remorse over his actions against his family? He doubted he would be able to hide his true colors for long.

  Even a scoundrel could love his daughter. No, sooner or later the truth would come out.

  “You shouldn’t have stopped me. None of Ewan’s lackeys deserve to live. The grief and misery they caused. We can’t forget that.”

  The last time Wesley saw his father, on his death bed, he swore to avenge him. The begging glare in his father’s eyes haunted him and urged him on.

  Fynn stumbled to his feet. “The blood flag will wave from the Black Opal’s mast. We leave no one standing. Do you understand? All of them. Every one of them.”

  Fynn stood nose-to-nose with Wesley. The stench of whiskey, sweat, and dried blood was nothing new, nor was Fynn’s fit of drunkenness. So he stood his ground. Fynn pushed him hard. Wesley pushed harder and with more authority.

  “Even that bitch.” Fynn stuck out his chin in righteous indignation.

  “Are you done? I find your ranting quite tiresome.” Wesley was through with the tough talk. He had a mind to plant his fist on Fynn’s chin as he had Maxwell’s. “Neither you nor the crew of my ship, and I remind you, I am the captain of the Black Opal, are going to kill another person. You and the rest of the crew take your orders from me. Is that clear? You would have everyone dead without a coin in your hand if it wasn’t for me.”

  Fynn glared at him with narrowed cold eyes but accepted the truth.

  “MacAlpin expects more from us than empty promises. You said there were gems. Good thing Hawker and the Trade Winds came by or we’d have nothing to bring him. May not be the gems we promised, but it’s better than nothing. How can we prove our worth to the King of the Pirates if we come back empty-handed? Where is our value to him?”

  “MacAlpin doesn’t want to kill people. He wants to terrorize them. If he kills them all, there will be no one left for him to frighten or rob. Our issues with Lord Ewan are our own, not MacAlpin’s.”

  Fynn waved his hand in dismissal. He stared off at the sea, his hand stroking his chin. After a while, he spun around to face Wesley.

  “We can use MacAlpin to our advantage.”

  Wesley stifled a groan. Was the man mad? MacAlpin was no fool.

  “You play with fire if you think to deceive MacAlpin. You’re calling for an all-out war with your blood flag and declaration ‘the seas are yours to command,’ which MacAlpin won’t appreciate. You’re antagonizing our enemy. What happened to lulling them into false sense of security? Maxwell sent a report to Dundhragon. Ewan will not take your threat easily.” Wesley grew angrier with each heartbeat.

  “I
f there is a fight, it will be Lord Ewan who sets it off,” Fynn offered off-handedly.

  “No, it will be you. MacAlpin is very happy on Scarba Island surrounded by his booty. He will not be happy with a fight from Lord Ewan and his allies, in particular, his soon-to-be Viking son-in-law, Magnus, and his army of marauders.”

  “That may very well be, but I will have my revenge. I will plot and plan. Ewan and all his cronies will pay for stealing Glesanda and Father’s fortune. I swore I would seek justice to our father before he died and I will see that pledge to the end. Will you go back on your word, your honor?”

  They both made that pledge to their Father as he lay dying a broken and battered man. But Wesley still didn’t understand the connection. He was a good judge of character. If he followed his instincts he would end this vendetta now. He looked at Fynn’s back as the man ate the last of the cheese and gathered his things.

  He idolized his father. They had both grieved when he died. But Fynn did not let up on this quest. If anything, it had gotten worse. Was his older brother more of a son than he was? No. His father always encouraged him to use his brains, not brawn.

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe Lord Ewan, Maxwell and the others would bring down Father. They are fooling you just as they fooled him. Trust me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone without cause.”

  Wesley stared at him, conflicted with what to believe.

  “Another drink?” Fynn turned with the bottle.

  “Not tonight.” Wesley stood and put on his coat. “I’m tired and need to get back to Ellenbeich.” He led the way to his beached boat.

  “Let’s not argue,” Fynn said and threw an arm around Wesley. “We are the last of the family. We should stand together and see our promise through.”

  Wesley stood mute.

  “I’ll leave a sign in the usual place to arrange another meeting,” Fynn said and waded out to his boat.

  Wesley pushed his small boat into the water and headed back to Ellenbeich. His honor pointed in one direction, his heart in another. His father was duped. Had Maxwell and Lord Ewan fooled him, too?