Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) (29 page)

Sterling
looked humored by the distress of the crew and his air of confidence eased my fears. Casually balancing his weight against the jouncing deck, he simply nodded in agreement. “Aye. This storm be but a wee baby, compared to the weather I’ve seen this beauty through.”

The captain was pleased by the buccaneer’s easy accord. “Can I trust your loyalty if I free your binds?”

I had expected Sterling to barter for something of great value, possibly even freedom, but with his arms crossed over his chest he said, “Only if’n ye promise to serve me hearties their daily rum while we be stuck in that hell hole.”

I chuckled at his ridiculous request.

Captain Langston thanked Sterling with the greatest relief before he freed him of his binds. I hoped he would forget about the keys I held to the cell, but once Sterling was free, Oliver reached for them and appointed me the job of keeping an eye on the buccaneer. He reminded, “Keep your gun loaded and ready. For one can never trust a pirate.”

It was quite the pleasure following
Sterling around while he worked, moving about the deck conducting orders to the crew, demanding positions and explaining their performances. He told the men where to go and what to do, and they listened without question. He even rallied up the captives from the
Poseidon
and the members of Pete’s Plunder band. They were all sitting awkwardly by the forecastle wall, and when Sterling told them they needed to pull their weight, they bewailed about how they were taken by force. Nonetheless the captain unlocked them and insisted they help with the sail.

Before long, each man on board was hard at work and stable in their stations. I watched in wonder as
Sterling manned the tiller until the ship was gently soaring over the roaring wake. His control over the ship changed the flow of the entire ride. Instead of a disastrous fumble over the rolling waves, the
Wind of Glory
now caressed the sauntering swell like smooth lines of poetry.

Keeping my eyes on him was the easiest job I was ever assigned, but maintaining a masculine pose while doing so was one of the hardest.

X

The morning sun beamed through patchy holes in the clouds, and the sky was misty and cool.
Sterling had guided
Wind of Glory
through the night’s storm, and even though it was a deed of his imprisonment, he seemed to enjoy the task. Before sending him back to the brig, Captain Langston had Sterling measure the latitude, and being my job to guide him to the chart room, we were able to sneak in a few kisses behind the closed door.

Sterling
was to meet the captain back on deck to report the pace, and I sat quietly against the gunnels while they talked. Oliver asked Sterling questions about his navigation work and also requested a few tips on proper storm sailing. Oliver seemed to be enjoying his talk with the navigator, and with Sterling showing no signs of fear over his captivity, I would have thought they were nothing more than mates talking about the weather.

Next thing I knew they were talking about Oliver’s bow. Sterling asked Oliver a few questions about how he made his arrows and seemed entirely impressed by Oliver’s passion for his beloved weapon, but soon enough the captain realized he had become far too acquainted with his prisoner. He quickly ended the discussion and commanded his men to lock his hands. They did so with an unnecessary roughness, but Oliver reminded them to be courteous before he thanked
Sterling again.

“Thank you for your loyal services, Mister Bentley.”

“It always be a pleasure to sail the seas, Captain Langston.”

Oliver looked at me. “Charlie, see to it that the prisoners receive the rum I promised them.”

I nodded to agree to my delegated chore, and on my way to the hold I heard Paul Redding and Doctor Reedy talking to each other. They had become acquainted by their equal distaste for the buccaneers and seemed alarmed by the captain’s civil treatment of them. At the moment they were bickering about Oliver’s audacity to serve them rum, and while nattering on about the matter, Willard Smith came mopping past them. Scowling at him with disgust, it seemed their disdain for the prior captain had overridden their fowl feelings towards the current one.

Chapter 12

Painful Imposition

As told by Charlotte Wetherby

N
ot only did I love sailing, but I could now refer to myself as a sailor. With Willard Smith preforming the lowly duties I had once been delegated, I was now able to experience the joy and work of sailing a ship. It was a much heftier task than I expected, but I certainly took a fancy for the challenge, and felt rather savvy as I picked up on the terms and techniques.

There were times the sails were beat to windward and there were times the breeze was sweet at our lee, but either way, I found a soulful satisfaction in working with the winds and tides. It made me feel as if
I was a part of something bigger. Cooperating with nature, and collaborating with my fellow man, I grew incredibly attached to
Wind of Glory,
and easily understood why Sterling spoke her name as if he loved her. Now I loved her, too.

While helping the captain command his crew, it was hard for me to believe I had ever been a quiet little woman in
a fancy dress. I did miss my father dearly, and felt terrible for leaving him to worry about me, but overall I had no mind to return the boring life I had fled. I was important here. I served a purpose. The men looked forward to my command, and the ship needed my hands to keep her in shape. And yes, my hands began to harden from pulling on the rigid lines, while my muscles strengthened from the hard days of work.

Aside from all the joy I found in the busy work, it also seemed to be my greatest escape from the terrible guilt I felt over the murders I had committed. No matter how I attempted to assure myself the acts were done in means of justice, I couldn’t escape the haunting visual of their bloody faces or the sound of their dying breaths. By nightfall my exhausted body would hit the hammock with heavy, dreamless sleep, and I was ever so thankful to rise with the sun without nightmares ringing in my waking mind.

No matter how much I preferred my life as a man, the secret romance I had been living with Sterling made me ever so thankful to be a woman. After sneaking in a round of wild kisses with him in the chart room, I walked him back out to the deck to measure our bearings. With the sensual buzz still lingering in my body, I watched him work his navigational magic before I had to put the cuffs back on his hands. I loved watching him work as much as I hated keeping him prisoner.

Sterling had informed Captain Langston that we’d be setting sight on the island of Jamaica with the morning light, and as the sun set upon our last night at sea, Oliver called his crew to celebrate with a feast. Though the meager rations of food were hardly suitable for peasants, we all sat together and enjoyed the meal as if we were dining with the king.

While finishing up the last of our scraps, Paul Redding stood up and suggested, “I fancy we ‘ave ourselves a round of rum to finish off the celebration.”

The men easily agreed.

Though everyone enjoyed the treat, Paul seemed to drink enough rum to get us all drunk. I certainly found him far more annoying while he was intoxicated, but buzzing as I was, I was in no place to judge him. Finding myself tipsy on my toes, I realized it was far too difficult to act as a man with the girlish giggles chiming in my bubbly mind, so I decided it best to slip away before I made the mistake of unveiling my true identity. It was my turn to keep night watch over the prisoners, so I excused myself with a belch and made way to the brig room.

Nearly stumbling down the gangway, I greeted my friends with a sloppy drunk hello. I know they were criminals, incarcerated for their crimes, but I had truly come to enjoy their company. There were no proper expectations in their rowdy presence and they were the only ones who had no judgment regarding my love for
Sterling. They certainly teased him for it though.

When I heard Faron call
Sterling a soft hearted scallywag, I squinted at him and fanned him over. Meeting him at the bars, I whispered in a silly giggle, “You can call him all the names you want, Captain Flynn, but I know all about how sweet you were to Mary Daley on the
Ivory
.”

He cocked his eyebrow as I continued with my whisper. “I am not sure if you know this, but I believe you should be told; Mary is madly in love with you, even to this very day.”

Exhaling a laugh, he looked down at the floor and rubbed his large hand through his dark, wild hair. Looking back at me with a saucy half smile, he smirked, “I did not know that.”

“Well don’t forget it, matey. That woman is one of a kind.”

I poked at his chest to send him on his way and as he turned his back on me, I admired his tattoo. The angry looking skull had two cutlass swords crossed behind it, and the blades swooped over his shoulders. I liked the artwork as much as I liked his muscled back.

After a while of enjoying my lingering buzz while in the company of the prisoners, Faron turned to a far more serious subject. The mutiny we would strike at dawn. As much as I enjoyed the hushed plotting and looked forward to setting
Sterling free, I also found myself fretting over my dreadful act of treason. I was terribly stunned by the harsh tactics the buccaneers proposed, and though I understood their risk was far too treacherous to leave room for failure, I could hardly stand the thought of turning against the men I had been working with. Especially Oliver Langston.

Standing at the bars of the brig cell, I pleaded with Captain Flynn. “Please, do not hurt Captain Langston during the takeover. I like him as much as I like you dirty dogs.”

Faron laughed at my concern. “Ye going soft on us, Charlie Bentley? That battle strong man should be the first to go.”

Sterling
glared at Faron as he assured me, “Don’t be worrying ‘bout that captain, lassie. We’ll be keeping him for our crew.”

Faron steeled his eyes at
Sterling, but Sterling calmly argued his point. “I been working with him, mate. He’d make a mighty fine quartermaster. He runs those dogs hard, but he’s got a fair head on his shoulders and they respect his command for all the right reasons.”

Shark, who was already lying down added, “But the old dog ‘as given us good food and clean water to wash with. I like it, but he be too kind. Won’t be surviving so long in the harsh world we live in with so generous a heart.”

Pete burped as he reminded the men, “Well I like him ‘cause he gave us rum.” It looked like he passed out after his sentence, and Marin who was hardly awake himself reminded Faron, “He took over his own captain’s reign like a hell-fire pirate. Langston’s got me vote.”

As they brabbled on in their reasonable debate, I mulled over the situation myself. They were arguing over this man’s life as if he was but a pawn in their game of chess. While questioning their assumed right of power in my own mind, I realized; in this case, I was the one with the power. I felt my eyebrow rise with a wicked flare and interrupted their discussion. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

The men that towered over me looked down to hear my concern. “Captain Flynn, you do remember I will be the one with the key to your cell? I am all for the notion of setting you free but will only promise to do so if you agree to keep Captain Langston alive.”

Worried Faron might have been angered by my haughty stipulation, I still tried to look tough as I waited for his response. To my surprise he flashed me with a saucy smile, and with his arms crossed over his bare bulky chest, he smirked. “Aye. Let the piratess have her way.”

With that said he lay down on his dirty coat and fanned his hand at Sterling with a yawn. “Good luck with that little strumpet of yers, Bentley. I’m goin’ to sleep.”

Shark laughed, “I’m gonna be sleepin’ now too, but so ye know, Charlie, any of those other lubbers that want to keep their throats can join us as our lowly deckhands, or get their arses in a longboat to drift away. Less blood to clean up that way. They don’t ‘ave to die unless they want to. The choice will be thars to make.”

Pete woke up just enough to slur, “But we’ll be needin’ to spare me Plunder Band. I ‘ave been missin’ me music.” He belched and rubbed his belly before he passed out again.

With all the men asleep, I turned off the lantern and met
Sterling at the bars. While he held me in the darkness, the rum buzz began to lift from my body, and I felt fear and guilt washing in to take its place. Deciding to relay my tumbling emotions to him, I expressed my confession in a whispered sigh. “Sterling, my love, I am worried sick by this painful imposition. I have attempted to keep a distance from my crew, but I cannot deny that it will be difficult to see them suffer against our plan. I don’t want to see anyone else die, and I certainly don’t want to kill anyone else myself. Dedrick Morley and that other man’s ghost have haunted my soul enough.”