Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) (20 page)

Intending to look serious I warned, “Ye better hope not.” The storm did look threatening, but mostly I just wanted to scare him.

In the last hours of evening light the
Wind of Glory
reached the island I spotted from Una Palma. I remembered being here with Captain Bentley and Kinley when I was a lad. The rocky cliffs were jagged and steep which kept the plant life minimal so the land was strangely barren for the Caribbean. Kinley had told me the island was called Ua’ Choreto, the native Arawak’s words for no abundance.

Fluent in multiple languages, Kinley said the name with the native accent, and though he tried to teach me the languages he knew, I was young and closed minded; insisting that everyone should just speak English. Within my stubborn resistance I called this island The Barren Shore. Wishing now that I had taken the time to learn the languages, I still continued to refer to the place by me English name for it.

Heavy clouds hovered over the dark and unwelcoming coast, leaving the shore to look cold, gray and well, barren. Cruising along the southern shore of the sheer rocky coastline, the wind picked up in a harsh northward direction, and if’n it kept up, we’d be bashing against the rocks along the shore afore long.

Of course, the wind picked up. 

Hollering directions for the men to reef the sails before conditions worsened, I took a better grip on the tiller to veer us away from the rocky doom that awaited. Nortty took to managing the sails, while Morley commanded the men to batten the hatches and fasten the goods. The wind blew in a ghostly howl, and the timbers of the ship creaked and groaned in the increasing waves. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the heavy sound of thunder tumbled across the cloud covered sky.

Nortty’s voice echoed down from the yardarms, and though raindrops had yet to fall, the dampened air was heavy enough to leave us in wet clothing. Amongst the wild flurry of men that were scampering around to fight the weather, James ended up next to me kneading the nerves in his hands like a loaf of bread.

Though I knew thar were better things he could be doing, I took the opportunity to complain, “If only I had a coat.” My shirt was completely soaked through and I pulled at me waistcoat to show how the leather was suctioning to my skin. Through the sounds of rumbling thunder and tossing seas, James squeaked, “How can you be worried about your coat when we are all going to be drowned?”

“We might be less likely to drown if
’n ye get yer arse up on that mast pole and help Nortty with the sails.”

His eyes grew wide and he ran over to help Faron rig a jackline across the deck instead. Though most of the men only took to grabbing it when the waves washed over, James gripped the line as if it were his commanded job to do so. 

Soon enough, the waves began to thrash across the deck.  Wrestling the current with the rudder, I braced for the wash just in time, but Perry wasn’t so fortunate. The vicious current washed him out to sea, and James screamed like a woman as he watched the helpless man drift off into the Locker. It could ‘ave been any one of us, and there was no saving him.

Eventually it rained, and I mean poured. Raindrops pummeled my face like shards of metal following a blast of chain shot, and the wind was whipping the sails to near shredding. With nothing more than the flashes of lightning to illuminate the thrashing waves, we fought the night
’s weather with relentless strength; only losing one other man to the hungry sea.

Though the storm tamed its anger near the rising of dawn, the dim light of day met us with another fearsome sight; fetching seas were rising around the keel. The rain had stopped and the waves were no longer cresting,
but the swells were rolling at an impeccable forty-foot height. There was near to no wind in the calm of the trough, but the walls of water surrounding the
Wind of Glory
were dark and foreboding. The maelstrom at the crest welcomed us with violent winds, that blew the waves into froth, foam, and spray; stinging the skin with the wrath of many wasps.

Running away from the wind under bare pole, the climb was as agonizing as the descent was intense, but we set a course with the hounds at our back and kept a bone in her teeth to manage our speed. With his arm still wrapped around the jackline, James was throwing up all over the place.

My body was aching from the strenuous work, but unlike James, there was no retirement in my sight; far as the eye could see, the rollers waked with the mockery of prison bars. No longer mattering which island we were nearing, what treasure we had missed, or who hated who, the crew came together to conquer the storm. And by the might of sheer survival, we overcame the weather.

X

The new day dawned with clear skies and calm seas. The sky always looked bluer after such storms passed, but the ship hadn’t pulled out so pretty. The force of the gale had torn and blown out the sails, stretched the rigging, chafed the lines, and cracked a few of the deadeyes at the base of the shrouds. Not to mention she flexed so much against the thrashing current that the caulk between the planks had moved enough to cause a few leaks in the hull. Us men were lookin’ no better.
Soaking wet with tangled hair, tattered clothes, and dark rings under our eyes, appearing to be a bunch of wind weathered ol’ vagabonds that hadn’t slept in days. Aye, the vigorous feat beat on us as bad as the weather beat on the
Wind of Glory
, and we all needed a break.

After the major leaks were sealed,
I removed me soaking wet shirt and waistcoat and laid down for the long awaited rest. Having not slept for long, I felt surprisingly alive as I arose, did my pushups with a newfound vigor, and headed to the deck to measure our bearings. With the sun shining on the bare skin of me back, I looked through the sighting vane of the backstaff.

Far as I was concerned, the backstaff was one of the best inventions of all time. With older tools like the cross staff, I’d ‘ave to stare at the sun, burning and exhausting me eyesight to ac
hieve a rough measurement, while with this navigational marvel, I could stand with me back to the sun, using the horizon line and the casted shadows to gather my measurements for latitude on the dial.

Figuring that we had drifted out into the
Atlantic, I was pleased to see the measurements confirm my estimation. Self-assured in the confidence my knowledge gave me, I wondered how so many of these men sail blindly into the sea without such inform. Then again, it was the rarity of me skill that asserted my value at sea, and had I not known the things that I did, Morley, along with a handful of other men I had confrontations with, would ‘ave killed me long ago.

I may not ‘ave picked up on the spoken languages that Kinley attempted to teach me, but when he told me ‘bout the sea, the stars, the tides, and the moon, I learned that language with ease. The elements were a part of me spirit.

While working I noticed James looking at the battle scars that characterized my skin. “How did you get all slashed up like that, Bentley?”

I told him ‘bout the battle in
Panama that caused the tear across me left side. It was by far the heaviest scar I had, and when he asked me ‘bout the pain I told him, “Me father died in that battle so the pains of this wound were the least of me worries.” 

James looked sobered by my statement, so I carried on with the humor of the next scar. The slash mark went straight down the right side of me abdomen; it was from a fight at a tavern in
Tortuga. James laughed when I told him the fight was over a card game. “I don’t even like to gamble because I never win. Well, that day I won the game, but I nearly lost me life. The man I played didn’t do well with defeat, and he pulled out his cutlass to fight me. I won the fight and gained this scar.” 

Then I pointed to the thin burn mark on me back and told James it was the most painful one. “Last time I was in
Singapore we went after a man that robbed me captain. We broke into the man’s house to get him and his family attacked us. His mean little wife screamed like a vulture and thrashed across me back with a hot iron. At that point I didn’t give a pox-face bilge louse who robbed who. I ran out of the shack to keep meself from stabbing that angry woman.”

There were plenty of other small marks and scratches, and James listened intently as I told me stories, but soon enough he asked, “How can you so willingly submit yourself to the harshness of this lifestyle?”

I thought ‘bout the ups and downs of me life at sea. There were plenty of times when me life was at risk and various moments that left me in pain, but it was beyond me to imagine living any other way. “What else would I do, mate?” I questioned him as much as meself.

James chuckled, and I continued, “Living on the fringe of survival keeps the blood flowing. When any day could be yer last, ye might want to be sure it’s a good one.”

Just as I headed towards the chart room to record our bearings, I saw the men rushing over to the portside, excited about something they could see.

I went over there to get a look and was awed to see thirty to forty pound tuna breaking the top of the water; there were so many fish that we could hardly see through the fluttering school of them, but suddenly they started dwindling off. About a mile east thar were ‘bout fifteen killer whales swimming in a circle. It seemed that they were making a whirlpool to suck the tuna into their trap.

Once there were enough tuna in the spiraling pool, one of the whales dove below and jumped up through the middle of the group. The creature cut through the surface of the sea with an open mouth, swallowing all the tuna that one large open whale mouth could gulp in. The whales took turns doing that until the source of tuna thinned, and we hollered and cheered as if we were watching an arm wrestling match until the full-bellied whales began to swim away.

The sight led me to think ‘bout
Charlotte and her desire to see the world. Knowing that she had been stuck in that castle her whole life made me want to take her out to see the places that she wanted to explore. I liked the way her eyes lit up when she saw that lagoon, and I could only imagine what she would think about the things I had seen since I left her in Port Royal. It was kind of nice knowing that I had a pretty woman waiting for me, and I looked forward to telling her my stories when I got back. 

I snapped out of my reverie to notice James still lookin’ out towards the whales. Pointing towards them I noted, “Just look at that, matey. It be such sights that make this all worth it.” I ran me hand pas
t the battle scars on me torso. “The pain goes away but the stories never do.”

James nodded his head with understanding.

Spending the evening charting the pace we lost in
the storm, I figured we were a couple days away from The Barren Shore. Most of the storm damage had been at least mildly repaired, but not ‘aving enough canvas to patch the disheveled sails, we sailed slow and lazily through the night; making up for our day of rest. By sunrise, I considered that we had traveled a decent pace, and it seemed that things were falling back on course. We had requested to eat Sheldon, the sea turtle for supper, almost every night, but John the Cook insisted that we wait.

As progress resumed, the disgruntled tone of the crew rolled back into the setting. It was easy enough for me to stay clear of Morley’s resentment, but Lenard Holt wasn’t so fortunate. Accused of “spreading dissension and breeding mutiny”, Lenard was to be keelhauled.

I had heard him speaking harshly about the captain, and though I agreed with every word he spoke, he was too loose with his concern for me to get involved in his ploy. Regardless of my disagreements, my blood was struck with an icy chill as I watched Morley’s men tie a line from bow to stern. Lenard fought within their clutches like an animal of the wild, and as they tied him to the line they taunted him about the ride he’d be taking under the keel.

Aside from the obvious dread of the situation, I truly enjoyed it when Lenard spit in Captain Morley’s face. Morley clubbed him over the head with his pistol and amidst the cheering a
nd booing that filled the air, the captain signaled for his men to throw the hardly conscious man overboard.

His body hit the water with a harrowing splash, and being tied to the line, the current quickly pulled him under the ship. If the underwater tow was not enough to drown him, the barnacles that clung to the bottom of the hull would be sharp enough to slice him to bits. Having seen plenty of keelhauling done in my day, and knowing that some men survived the punishment, I followed the rushing crowd abaft to watch the body emerge from the stern.

Lenard Holt did not survive. Watching his limp body drag in the wake, I imagined what it might be like to face such a dreadful death.

Captain Morley cut the line and while shaking his hands clean he humored, “That’ll be givin’ him something to revolt about.”

His loyalists laughed and he continued, “Best part ‘bout a keelhauling is we don’t ‘ave to slow our pace. Marooning can be so bloody time consuming.”

The crowd scattered off into their duties, but I stayed abaft to contemplate my uncertain future. While my mind reeled over the seemingly impossible options for escape, I hardly noticed that Flynn was standing next to me. He shook his head. “I liked Lenard
, and I like that he tried to make a stand, but he went ‘bout it the wrong way. Little as I favor the captain, he was only enforcing the rules that we all signed up to follow. I know it takes strict action to run a sharp crew, but I think demanding respect by giving respect will be going a lot farther than enforcing power by inflicting fear.”

There wasn’t much else to be said, considering the daunting threat
s, but I simply nodded to agree, and I knew that Faron Flynn would make a hell of a captain.

X

The morning light shone through a heavy fog. Though the blinding mist came with more calm than a storm, the loss of vision bared its own wrath of damage. There was no way to chart latitude in the haze, but I knew The Barren Shore was in a general southwest direction so I demanded the crewmen to veer for that course.

The water appeared an eerie green hue through the mere foot of visibility, and the sound of the keel slicing the thick salty wate
r
created a hypnotic dulling of the senses. Growing antsy in the silence, and aggravated by the slow haul in the mist, the men started complaining like nattering old women. 

About an hour into the agonizing sail, the fog lightened a bit, and Marin the Marooner called from the crow
’s nest. “Flag off the portside bow. English Merchant-Man.”

Morley called for an invasion.

What the blimey hell was he thinking? I was all for raiding against the filthy Spanish, but I didn’t like the idea of invading a merchant ship, especially an English one. Not only would it threaten our livelihood in Port Royal, but having once sailed as a Merchant-Man meself, I didn’t feel at all right about the notion.

Aside from me attempt of moral management, I knew
Wind of Glory
was damaged from the storm, not to mention the way the wrath of Morley and the storm had left us down on men, leaving us feeble for the brazen feat. Yet when Captain Morley stood at the quarterdeck and hollered, “Thar be our new sails and rigging lines, boys!” the men cheered to take on the challenge, leaving me no room to contest the majority. Shakin’ me concerns and checking me weapons, I figured it would be nice to ‘ave some new sails.

Veering
towards the unsuspecting Merchant-Man, we easily came broadside in the fog. A cool wind made its way over the sea, wafting the clouds through the air in patches, lifting the Jolly Roger in the breeze. The
Poseidon
attempted to take flight, but we were too close. Throwing our grappling hooks over their gunnels, yanking their ship towards ours, we waved our swords and weapons, yelling like beasts in the wild. She had nowhere to run and made for a quick surrender.

More often than not, the fear inflicted by the mere sight of the black flag and the threatening roar of the savage greeting made for the pirates
’ greatest weapon; easily winning many prizes without the need of bloodshed. Captain Morley announced our intentions to the
Poseidon’s
captain, making it clear that we would be coming aboard to get what we needed while they waited silently.

Morley’s men laid down a boarding
plank, and as we walked across, the sound of our boots stomping on the deck sliced the thickness of tension that laid heavy in the air. Faron led a group of men to remove the sails so we could take them as our own, while Nortty took a group down below to plunder the hold. It was my job to pace the perimeter of surrendered men along with Pete and Farrell, while Morley leaned against a barrel eating an apple that he had taken from one of the men on deck.

With me cutlass brandished, I
made fierce eye contact to remind the surrendered to behave. I could see the men I faced making note of me green eyes, for the unique characteristic made for an obvious identification mark. If not by me name, I was otherwise known by the color of me eyes or the compass rose tattooed on me chest, both of which worked out well with the ladies.

The surrendered crew stood still with their hands up and waited quietly while they were robbed. Though it was in their best interest to stand still, I could only imagine the humiliation they experienced having to do so. They were working class citizens that most likely had families at home to care for, and suddenly, these mangy buccaneers were boarding their ship, pillaging their goods, and would probably attempt to rape their women.

Despising the brutal act of rape as I did, I hoped there were no women aboard the ship. Captain Bentley had been against it, and it simply disgusted me, so I never let it happen in my presence.

Faron had the mainsail removed, and so far the raid appeared to be going smooth. As I continued to pace, one of the men caught me interest more than the others; looking more angry than afraid. He wasn’t much older than me, and as I stared him down, he easily returned the glare. Within his blue eyes, I saw his will to fight, and I think he wished that the men of his crew felt the same way. Through me threat, I respected his bravery and hoped that I wouldn’t ‘ave to kill him.

Letting me expression do the talking, I never said much during invasions, but suddenly I noticed something that was worth speaking up about. One of the men was ‘bout me size, and he was wearing a coat that would fit me. Burgundy velvet with corded trim, the coat was long and stylish, but mainly I just wanted the sun off me back. Pointing me cutlass at the man, I brashly demanded, “You. Give me that coat yer wearing.” 

Quickly removing his coat, he threw it to me, and after c
atching it with me free hand I smiled. “Thank ye, kind sir.”

Pete laughed at me mannered gratitude. I really was thankful, but I laughed
, too, considering the circumstances. Pete and Farrell kept their weapons aimed as I put the coat on, and it did fit just right, but to me surprise, the man with the brave blue eyes mocked, “I think you’re too puny to fit in that coat.”

His voice was cold
, sharp as icicles, slicing through the fear in the air. One of his crewmen gasped, “You’ll get us all killed, Bronson.”

Honestly, I was humored by the comment but I couldn’t let him know that. Instead I dashed him a wicked glare, pointed the tip of me blade towards him, and snarled, “Maybe you can give me yers then.”

Without batting an eye, he hissed, “You can kill me first.”

I was equally impressed and infuriated by his outburst. As of yet Bronson was standing still but I couldn’t risk him raising a fury. Maybe his captain was too afraid to fight, but Bronson wasn’t. Like me, he would rather die fighting than to shiver in cowardice, and if
’n he made another move, I’d grant him his wish.

Before anything else was said or done, the sound of gunshots rang out from the hold. Members of me crew came running up the
gangway, attempting to escape the armed Merchant-Men that were shooting after them. Apparently, there were women on the ship, and the men below aimed to protect them from the disgusting men on me crew. I was glad to know that the men were brave enough to fight for their women, and I would ‘ave been happy to clear the deck and sail on in our defeat.

But it was too late.

Just as I suspected, Bronson wasn’t going to let that happen. He was already charging to fight. Quickly throwing Farrell to the deck, Bronson yanked his cutlass from his hand and stabbed Farrell with his own sword! I was impressed by Bronson’s maneuver until he took Farrell’s bloody cutlass and made after me with it. His crew followed after his gesture, and the wall of unarmed men stormed the deck, blocking his strike against me. By now the fog had cleared and the sun beamed on the deck. It went from a quiet foggy takeover to a bloody battle in the beaming sun.

Fighting off the raging merchants,
Morley’s crew made quick to retreat. With gun blast firing between the ships, me crew struggled to keep the boarding plank steady for our escape. I had already stabbed two men and made it near the plank when Bronson finally met me with Farrell’s bloody cutlass. Almost a head shorter than me, his blond hair was wild as the fiery rage on his face, and the hate in his eyes might ‘ave been sharp as that sword that he was so good with. He was incredibly skilled, and his footwork was ridiculous! I had been fighting with me sword for years, and he put up one of the meanest fights I had ever faced.

Using every ounce of me strength to hold of
f the force of his thrusts, I found meself sweating in the sunlight, with me hat slipping across my wet forehead threatening to cover me sight. Against Bronson’s swift maneuvers, I had not a chance to adjust me hat, and I hoped that no one came from behind me, for if I made the slightest move off course the angry man would be having me throat.

Finally managing an upper hand with movements forcing him to back up against me blows
, I was thrilled to be overpowering him, yet annoyed that the fight was leading me away from the plank. Most of me crew had retreated, and I knew they would leave me behind. Making feint against one of his swings, I caused him to lose his balance and quickly moved me cutlass up over his, hoping to beat his swift blade on its way back. The timing was perfect. The opportunity was open. I was sure it would be the final slice of our fight. Yet as me blade came near him, that wiry codpiece did a bloody backflip to clear the way!

I had enough. While he swooshed off in his daring stunts, I cleared the deck to the
Wind of Glory
.

Knowing they couldn’t follow with the sails we had removed, they blasted another round of shot as we left; pummeling our portside with damage. Aiming to catch our breath as we slowly sailed our mangled
Wind of Glory
away, it felt as if she was moping in our defeat.

With me hands on me knees, breathing heavily, I huffed, “Well that didn’t go as planned.”

James, who had a black eye and blood streaming down his sleeve, laughed, “At least you got a new coat. Bet it would be easier to buy one at the market, but hardly as thrilling.”

I was surprised to hear that he enjoyed the tragic turn of events as much as
I did. As I laughed at James, I saw Faron lookin’ back at the
Poseidon
in his spyglass. Jumping with excitement he announced the details of what he saw. “Holy shipwreck! Farrell’s alive. Blimey, Bentley, that blond beasty you fought with just yanked his belt off and hogtied Farrell with it.”

Laughing harder than I already was
, I imagined the completely believable sight. “That back flipping, belt wielding, Bronson, aye?”

As Faron lowered his glass he exclaimed, “I’d like to take that matey on a boar hunt. He’d make fer a great huntin’ hound.”

But Pete wasn’t laughing. “I’d like to sharp shoot that rat bastard Farrell from here. Ye know dead men can’t be tellin’ no tales.”

Pete was right. That greasy malt-worm would be the first to report our crimes for the lowliest reward, but we were too far away and there was nothing we could do ‘bout it.

Rounding the deck to assess the damage, Nortty announced that thar were two gaping holes in the portside of the ship, on top of our already tattered sails, caulkwalked planks in the hull, and torn lines. Four of our men died on the deck of the
Poseidon
, Farrell was left behind, and it turned out that two more men had died in the farewell gunshots. The only reward was the welcoming of three prisoners, a chest of schillings, and me new coat that I was too “puny” for. 

Captain Morley demanded that the bodies be thrown overboard and had not a concern for wrapping or chaining them. Rampaging like a hungry bear, he blasted a brash demand. “This tattered ship
be like a ball and chain on me ankle. I ‘ave waited so long for this fen-sucked loot, and if’n I am gonna agonize any longer, it’ll be with swift sails and a solid hull. We be down many men and need to revamp our crew. Turn this ship towards Tortuga.”

The crew cheered and shaped up for the detour. The mission had gone all wrong, and besides the necessity of repairing the ship, the nightlife of
Tortuga sounded like a much needed intermission for the disastrous haul.