Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) (3 page)

Before he spoke, Sterling slipped a flask of rum out of his boot leg and offered me a sip. My father never let me drink but I didn’t mind. I had seen Hester act a fool under the spell of rum too many times so I had no desire for it. Yet now, being shoulder to shoulder with a dashing, young buccaneer who smelled like sea salt and sandalwood, the rum suddenly became appealing.

I visualized taking a quick swig and carrying on in our discussion, but as the strong liquid flooded my mouth, I was shocked by the warm taste. It took all my effort to keep it down before I choked.
Sterling playfully laughed at me and eased my embarrassment by reassuring, “It’ll get smoother once ye get yerself used to it.”

Sterling
then took a swig of rum that seemed outright barbaric after my sloppy attempt, but I adored the way he smiled at me afterwards. He then patted my thigh in a way that raised my heartbeat, yet I couldn’t help but laugh as he belched, “I believe ye wanted to hear me story ‘bout that last storm.”

I clapped my hands like an impatient child and giggled, “Oh yes,
I certainly do.”

He looked out towards the ocean and began his tale. “So at one point in time, Captain Morley and one of his mates had stashed some loot in a darkened cave. Why the hell they did such a thing was beyond me, but once Morley caught wind that the man who hid it with him had laid wake for it, Morley suggested we beat him to the prize.

“I had never known gold to be waiting quietly in a cave, but considering the ease of the feat, the crew voted to go. Of course a storm rolled in, upping the challenge; thrashin’ the
Wind of Glory
with harsh gales. The surge was exceptionally strong along the shore, and between the pounding rain and pummeling waves, we were all soaked to the bone. I’d say the only avail of the terrible weather was the blockade it set between Morley and his adversary.

“
Barley makin’ it to shore, we rushed across the forest floor and dodged the tree branches that were whipping in the wind. As we scaled the rocky cliff side, the rain was pouring so harshly that a muddy river was pouring over our boots, causing us to slip over the loose gravel as we ascended the slushy cascade.

“By the time we reached the cave, the wind was thrashing at the bits, making tree trunks into catapults and broken debris into cannon blast. We rushed into the tunnel just in time. Though the wind howled its way through the walls of the winding channels, the cave kept us safe from debris. Soon enough we found what Morley had been lookin’ for, and sink me it was one hell of a prize.

“We carried the load into a bigger room of the cave, and a hint of outdoor light let in from around the corner. We could hear the wind howling but the torrent of its wrath was still at bay. We lit a fire and drank our rum; of course, we kept an eye out for the other crew to follow, but the storm cleared with no sign of their sails. We headed to Port Royal to relish in our so stated, easy wealth.”

A moment after his story ended, I remembered I was still on my veranda where it was safe and warm. I was absolutely carried away by the boisterous adventure, so much that I could feel the rain, the worry, and the glory as if I were there with him in that storm.

“I cannot believe you have lived such an adventure,” I exclaimed. “That is something that could only be read in a book. You know where I was for that storm? I had to rush home from the market and change my dress because it dragged in the mud on the way back.”

I laughed at myself for admitting the contrast of my life’s frivolities to his excitements, but he poked at the sleeve of my dress as he teased, “Yer dresses be far too pretty to be muddied.”

The feel of his playful touch lit my cheeks with a bashful rouge, but he removed his hand from my shoulder and casually swigged another taste of rum as if he had not just stoked my nerves like the wood of a fire. I figured a man like him had most likely experienced as many exotic women as he had traveled foreign lands, yet this was the first time I had ever been alone with a man I was attracted to. Not wanting him to see through my sheltered vulnerabilities, I turned my head away to hide my blushing cheeks.

Sterling
tipped the silver flask back towards me and flashed me a sideways smile that showed the crooked side of his teeth. He imitated a proper English accent and asked, “Would you like to see if it has gotten any smoother there, Miss Charlotte?”

Chuckling
at his imitation, I thanked him for the offer. I was expecting the dark, sugared taste and swallowed it much more gracefully. The burn went down smoother, and as I recovered from the liquid heat, Sterling smiled. “Fancy the flavor a little more there, beauty?”

Giggling
through the warmth of the rum, I nodded at him to let him know I liked it. I was also liking the way the buzz began tingling through my body, and as the evening went on, Sterling’s rugged sea worn appearance became more and more appealing. His bright eyes reflected the depth of the adventures he had lived and invited me right into his world as if I belonged there. Though I had heard nothing but terrible things about buccaneers, he was so silly and sincere; I could hardly imagine him doing the awful things I had known his kind to be accused of.

“Where do you come from
Sterling?” I asked the question in both a literal and mythical sense.

He took his hat off and scratched his head as he yawned, “I was born in
Barbados, but far as I can remember, the sky has been me ceiling and the ocean me floor. Me father, Captain Mason Bentley, was one of the original Brethren of the Coast, but once I came along he settled as a merchant captain. He raised me at sea, and all I can remember of me twenty one years, I have been sailing on a ship or working at a harbor. We went in and out of the law at his favor, but once he took me to Hispaniola to boar hunt and showed me Tortuga, I proved that I was ready to fight by his side. We been buccaneering ever since.”

“So your entire life has been one I could only dream of. I can only imagine the stories you could tell. Where else have you been?”

“All over the Caribbean, Panama, Singapore, London…” Sterling stopped the flow of his sentence and as he set his hat on the floor next to him, he asked, “Ye know what though, lovely, I want to know about you. Tell me, what be a day in yer life like?”

I related my daily schedule with a yawn of boredom, “Breakfast is served in the parlor at eight every morning, tea at two, supper at five and Church on Sunday mornings. I always enjoy my harpsichord lessons. I do like walking in the garden, but going to the market is my favorite. Seeing items from around the world is my greatest escape.”

“Now, what’s so bad about that, Charlotte? I bet yer breakfast be better than hard tack and salt junk. Sometimes we just eat in the dark so we don’t see the weevils.”

I squinted at the thought of eating such things, but
Sterling made a funny face to imitate his distaste. After shuddering in animated disgust, he asked, “What was it ye had for breakfast this morning?”

“Biscuits, ham, bacon and eggs…” My sentence drifted off when I realized he’d caught me in a moment of ungratefulness, but he smiled at my answer and informed me, “A good warm meal be one of the better parts of coming to port.”

I nodded in understanding, but I was curious. “One of? What else do you enjoy about coming to port?”

Sterling
hummed as if he was thinking, but once he turned to face me, he stared intently into my eyes. His gaze alone made me feel as if my heart would thump out of my throat, but then he escalated my rush of panic by putting his rough hand on my cheek as he breathed, “This right here be rather nice.”

I tried to catch my breath amidst the surge of fear and excitement that he triggered in my heart, but before he came any closer, he let go of my face and reached for his rum. “I don’t mean to frighten ye, love…”

I interrupted the awkward moment I had created with a burst of rum driven rambling. “You don’t frighten me; you entice me. You are so handsome and charming, and I…I have dreamt of your world for all these years, and now you are here. I can hardly believe you’re real.”

He stared off towards the moon that was sinking lower in the horizon, and his awkward silence left me to regret my untamed expression, but soon enough he looked back at me and shook his head as he chuckled, “Charming, aye? I’ll take it. For I be enticed by ye as well,
Charlotte.”  

Our shoulders touched, and he wrapped his arm around me and smiled. “I like the way ye fit right here, lovely.”

“It is a wonderful place to be.” I leaned my head on his shoulder and delightfully inhaled his scent as I unraveled into the reality of my fantasy. We spent the rest of the night talking about our contrasting lives, and he carried me away with his stories about his world traveled adventures. I did not want to miss a moment of his magical spell, but as the evening went on, I grew heavy with rum and the comfort I found in his arms.

We watched the moon make its disappearing act into the ocean, and he ran his rough hand up and down my arm as he spoke. “Imagine that moonlight there shining down on the deck of a ship at sea. Aye, standing on the bow, all ye can see around is the ocean glistening in the blue shade of moonlight. The only sound be the wind whisking the sails and the keel slicing the waves as it glides along. The scent of sea salt drifts in a light mist and the deck is still warm from the sun of the day. Every breath be invigorating and the world is a wide open treasure box for the one standing at the bow.”

I imagined myself with him on the deck as I sat there on my veranda with his strong arms wrapped around me. With every word he spoke, I melted further into the picture he painted, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.

I faintly awoke to the feel of
Sterling carrying me to my bed. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sleeping, but was extremely disappointed that I fell asleep at all. As he laid me down I whispered, “Do not leave me Sterling. I will go with you…”

“Not now, love. It’s early morning. A new day is risin’, but I’ll be back tonight after sunset. Wait for me.” He kissed my forehead and disappeared.

I was so heavy from my restful sleep that it took a moment to realize he was gone. I sat up and looked outside to see the light of the rising sun faintly glowing on the trees. Though he said he would return, I feared he would not and wondered if any of it really happened at all. Margret and Mary would be in soon to get me ready for the day, but all I could do was stare at the ocean view in disbelief.

X

I never went back to sleep, but the sound of Margret and Mary entering through my door seemed to lift the magic spell Sterling had left me under. Margret was our old and impatient maid, and Mary was my personal servant. Margret drifted through her duties with a scowl, but her brittle hands kept the glorious mansion in esteemed condition. She darted in to fluff the pillows, and her brash maneuvering forced me to climb out of bed. I ignored her drab greeting and quickly moved out of the way as the cranky maid shook the sheets.

Unlike Margret’s thin layer of tolerance, Mary had a pleasant demeanor that always made me feel comfortable and cared for. She sauntered through the sunlit room and greeted me with a singsong tone, “Good morning, Miss Charlotte.” The rhythmic melody of Mary’s Irish accent was always like music to my ears.

These two women entered my room every morning, yet in contrast with the breathtaking experience I had last night, the common routine suddenly seemed out of place; and no matter how much I enjoyed Mary’s company, I flinched with irritation as she dressed me. Being exhausted from my lack of sleep and hung over from the rum, the ridiculous layers that were expected of a proper lady seemed like a heavy burden to bear. I wished I could only wear the cotton chemise as Mary positioned the hoop skirt over my hips and covered me with the heavy lilac dress. The dreadful corset seemed extraordinarily constricting, and as Mary tied the lace I inhaled in utter discomfort. Yet I somehow forced a smile as she complimented me. “I always love the look of this dress on you, Miss Charlotte. The golden embroidery brings out the warm hazel color of your eyes.”

I drifted through the motions of my daily preparations and was relieved to sit in the vanity chair while Mary styled my hair. My hair was naturally straight and the curls always took so long to perfect. While I waited, I realized my ravenous degree of hunger, and I was completely annoyed by my parched throat. Then I remembered
Sterling’s comments regarding a good warm meal, and I was suddenly thankful for the regular eight o’clock breakfast I usually took for granted.

Normally Mary and I would talk during our morning routine, but I was so overwhelmed by the memories of my forbidden secret that I remained silent in my mystical haze. Mary appeared to be a bit curious about my silence, but she did not ask questions. Rather, she perfected the last curl she was working on and simply smiled before she sent me on my way.

I walked down the curved staircase, and as I passed through the entryway I said hello to Benson, the doorman. He stood straight with his hand behind his back and smiled warmly as he greeted me. Benson was a quiet fellow, but he was always pleasant. My father never spoke to me about his servants or his plantation work, but I remember my brother Isaiah telling me how father made sure his house servants were comfortably housed and well fed. He not only felt it was the right thing to do, but he also saw better service from people who were well cared for. As far as I was concerned, everyone seemed fairly content with the work they did around my father’s estate. Well, everyone but Margret.