Open Waters (2 page)

A circle formed around her, men shuffling, their boots scraping the deck as all eyes looked to her for direction. This was when the thrill of the fight ahead and the adrenaline pumping through her veins began, filling her up and making her feel well and truly alive. She lived for these moments. It was at times like these that she could see the trust and loyalty these men had in her, in what she could do and what she could give them. She could see it in their eyes. They would follow her to the edge of the world and back again if she so demanded it.

For now, she'd just settle for capturing the
Liberty
.

"We all know the prestige of royal galleons. Outfitted with the best guns and cannons, made to withstand attacks and continue on to port like nothing happened. But we have the advantage here. She may be bigger and better at most things, but she doesn't have the speed and agility of the
Tantibus
. We've faced worse odds before and look, we're still here. And stronger than ever!" Cries of agreement rose up from the crew as Jane's words riled them up. Good. The more riled they were, the more unpredictable they would be once the fight began. Unpredictable meant victory.

Jane took a breath, and shifted her weight, restless with the thrum of excitement and continued, "If we can damage her rigging with a few shots from the bow chaser, we'll be able to get the
Tantibus
close enough to board and the
Liberty
won't be going anywhere. She's a newer model, so she's lacking the stern-chasers and won't be able to return fire without a turn. Which, with the disabled rigging, will not be possible. With her incapacitated, we get to choose the side of attack. She's strongest portside, so we'll match her starboard side. Despite this, she'll still think she can rake us through in just a few shots. What she won't be expecting is a boarding mid-pass."

Several voices rose in complaint, but Jane quickly shut them down with a raised hand.

"Yes, I know it's a gamble and those that take on that task are at risk of being picked off. But I believe it will catch them enough off-guard that we can get at least a dozen men aboard to start taking their crew out. Most of her men will be below deck, manning the cannons, so just taking out those above will leave fewer cannons to be loosed as men come above to take their places."

She watched as some heads nodded in agreement, and others looked about trying to gauge their fellow crewmembers' opinions.

Soon enough, Cooksley spoke up, his arrogant voice rising above the murmur of the other men, "Aye, but there's only so many men a man can take on before he's downed. It’s suicide, Captain. It'll never work and I, for one, don't fancy losing my life over something as half-brained as that." He looked about him, trying to gauge the reaction of his statements in the rest of the crew. Jane almost laughed out loud. Being malicious and ruthless had gained him little support amongst the crew. Besides, the last attempt at mutiny back when Jane had been newly captained hadn't gone too well. Those involved still lay at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Cooksley may desire her position but the odds of obtaining it were not in his favor.

Jane held up a finger. "Not with Coll, Newby, and myself picking them off from here."

The crew was silent, digesting the plan with furrowed brows and hard lines. But Jane just smiled confidently. Making a pass at the
Liberty
with her full strength would leave the
Tantibus
vulnerable to significant damage. Sliding into the
Liberty
's wake and firing their cannons at her stern would make a smaller target and delay boarding to its fullest. Jane knew from experience that the longer she waited to board, the more the crew was prepared for it and could fight them off. Quick and easy, that was the trick. Her plan was a new one, but they had never taken on a full-fledged merchant galleon before. A galleon warship would have been another matter and most likely impossible for the
Tantibus
and her crew, but as a merchant ship, the
Liberty
had to lower the amount of defenses in order to make room for more goods. And although the Liberty was carrying powder and ammunition of all sorts, she was not equipped to fight with most of it.

And it played out better than she would have thought possible.

Worth had volunteered—as Jane knew he would—to be one of the first men to board and he amounted to most of their success. The man was a fighter, parrying, blocking, and jabbing his sword in expertly-practiced maneuvers. Jane barked a laugh as she watched him twist his body and disarm his opponent with a flick of his wrist. She had taught him the move.

This was what she lived for, what she loved: the fight, the battle, watching her tactical plans play out before her, even if she wasn't down there in the fray of it all. The weight of the gun was enough, the smell of the gunpowder, and the quick, deft movements of her hands as she loaded another shot, downing the
Liberty'
s crewmen one by one as they got in her crew's way.

"Secure!" Worth shouted from the
Liberty's
deck.

Jane got to her feet leisurely, striding over and swinging aboard the
Liberty
. Her boots thudded against the wooden deck as she landed gracefully, looking about the main deck. The
Liberty's
twelve remaining crew members were now kneeling, bloodied and beaten, before five of her own, guns and swords alike trained upon their bowed heads. The stench of sweat and blood hung in the air, only swept away occasionally by the sweet, salty breeze that washed over the sea.

"Ship's ours, Captain," Newby stated with a smug look. Jane smiled as she performed an exaggerated bow to the men—both hers and their new captives—before striding over to the hatch in the middle of the deck and ascending the steep stairs toward the hold. She felt the giddiness that usually preceded a successful mission take over the further she descended. It didn't matter how many ships she took nor what treasures they held aboard, a successful mission never failed give her a rush of pride and accomplishment, to make her feel like this life she led was what she truly wanted, what she was
good
at. That this was enough, had to be enough,
needed
to be enough.

"What have we got, lads?" Jane crowed to her men scattered about the hold.

Coll stepped forward, his eyes roaming over the sheet of paper in his hands. "Fifty-two casks of powder, two thousand rounds of shot, eighteen twelve-pounders, and one hundred and fifty new guns."

Jane hummed in mock discontent. "Four casks short. How disappointing."

The answering laughter brought a smile back to Jane's face. She ventured further into the space, inspecting the various casks and goods about the hold.

"We can't take the twelve-pounders. Those will have to stay, unfortunately," she stated sadly and a grumble of disappointed agreement rose from the men around her, "but we can use the shot and the casks—"

"She'll be weighed down heavily, Captain," Coll stated matter-of-factly.

Jane nodded, brushing her fingers over one of the casks. "Aye, I am well aware. But if we are indeed heading for a war, these casks will be invaluable to us. More so than they will be at the bottom of the ocean."

Coll paused for a beat. "Aye."

Jane nodded to him, running her hand lazily over another cask before striding back through the hold toward the ladder. When she reached it, she turned back and addressed the men below, "Any food or supplies that are found may be brought aboard at the approval of Coll. Let's load her up, boys, and get the hell off this bloody Navy ship!"

A cheer of "Aye, Captain!" followed Jane as she made her way back up to the main deck. Coll, as the quartermaster going on ten years now, knew everything that went on about the
Tantibus
, including what goods they had and could carry without sinking the ship. He was in charge of getting everything aboard and then ensuring the
Liberty
sank to the bottom of the ocean, along with the goods they would be unable to take. And he was damn good at it.

"Captain!" Worth's call echoed down the hatch, the tone not so much urgent, but certainly hinting at a necessity that mustn't be ignored. It was a tone Jane knew quite well now, one that told her that whatever it was, it was a nuisance, but still required her attention in order for it to be resolved. Jane ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. Everything had been going so well.

She quickly ascended the stairs, the thud of her boots drumming out an ominous beat. But everything on the main deck was as she remembered, give or take a handful of captive crew, and the addition of Worth from god knows where.

She looked at him expectantly.

Worth gave her an annoyed look, aimed not at her, but at whatever had given him cause to call her. "Captain's quarters," he said with a jerk of his head toward the stern, where the mentioned quarters lay. "Their captain wishes to speak with you."

Jane's eyebrows rose incredulously. "And why must I be made to go to him? It is he who should be out here with the rest of his bloody crew," she said, gesturing to the men still kneeling on deck.

"It's…" Worth paused, "complicated, Captain. There's a matter of leverage."

"Ah," Jane nodded, making her way over to the captain's quarters, "of course there is. I knew this had gone too smoothly."

Worth let out a huff of amusement as he followed behind her, "Don't even try to deny it, you love surprises. Smooth was never to your liking."

Jane waved a hand flippantly in the air. "I will neither confirm nor deny this," she answered with a smile, a glint of mischief in her eye. When things went perfectly according to plan, the element of surprise for her was removed. No shock, no spike in adrenaline, no skip of the heart. If there wasn't at least one unexpected person vying for your heart on the end of their blade, where was the fun in that?

"Gentlemen," Jane announced with an air of aloofness, coupled with arrogance, as she strode leisurely through the open doors to the Captain's quarters. "What seems to be the problem?"

Millett, one of the older, shorter, but no less equipped, men of her crew, stood off to the side, his pistol aimed at what appeared to be nothing more than standard hostage situation in the middle of the room. The first was a man, grey-bearded and stocky, his belly rivaling that of a pregnant woman. But it was the other that mostly obscured this man that caught Jane by surprise—and a little off-guard, she admitted somewhat reluctantly—causing her to pause for a second to ensure that no, she wasn't imagining things. For there, held at knifepoint at the throat—and being used as a human shield—by what had to have been the captain of the galleon, was a common whore.

Well, maybe "common" was too harsh of a word. She was indeed very beautiful. Though, Jane mused, that was the standard for whores, was it not? They needed to entice future clients with their, uh, coveted features and whatnot. So, the skin-baring dress that displayed her occupation with the utmost certainty, exhibiting a delectable helping of cleavage, peeking ankles, and forearms, came as no surprise to Jane. She was lean, but no doubt well-endowed where it mattered to her clientele, with a full head of dark brown tresses that were falling out of the hastily-woven knot secured to the back of her head. But it was the whore's eyes, a soft, light brown with a spark of fire running through them that really caught Jane's attention. Thinly-veiled defiance, that's what it was. She was no fan of her situation any more than Jane was. But outwardly, the whore seemed bored and annoyed more than fearful. It was intriguing to say the least.

What shocked Jane, though, was the fact that the whore was here aboard the ship at all. It was bad luck to have a woman aboard; every sailor knew that, and—her strangely lenient crew aside—most believed wholeheartedly in such nonsense. Jane tried not to roll her eyes every time she heard men speak of the absurd superstition, because her time at sea was clear evidence to disprove it. Granted, despite seeing her in passing or being boarded and attacked by her and her crew, her gender still remained but a rumor at most. Most captains and crewmen believed the notorious pirate Captain Avery was not the woman few claimed her to be, but was, in fact, a man. No woman could ever be a captain, let alone a successful one.

"What is—who the fuck is this?!" The man snarled in Jane's direction. "I asked for your captain, you rats, not some fucking cunt!" he spat at Worth and Millett. Then he turned his attention back toward Jane as she gazed back at him with cool indifference. "Bring me the captain this instant or I'll slit her pretty little throat." The man brought the knife closer to the whore's bared throat, emphasizing his absurdly futile point.

A beat passed in the cabin before all three pirates burst out laughing.

"You think I care about the life of some whore?" Jane asked incredulously, once she had calmed. "You believe I'm going to just leave you alone, spare your fucking life, because of some misguided morals or good conscience that you think I have? Have you no idea what has become of your crew?" She gestured out toward the bow of the galleon, where the remaining crew of the Liberty still knelt, awaiting judgment from her. She let out another bark of a laugh. "Believe me, I have no conscience and my morals are not in your favor."

The man didn't even miss a beat as he sneered back at her. "Why should I care what some wench believes?! Fetch your captain so that we may talk man-to-man instead of him hiding behind some woman!"

Jane cocked an eyebrow, gesturing to the man and his current predicament. "Isn't that what you're doing? Hiding behind some woman?"

Silence fell over the room for a moment as the portly man digested the accusation. But soon enough, his face morphed once again into a sneer and he held tighter to the whore, her skin almost white with the strength in which he grasped her. But her bored look only turned to one of disgust just as the air of annoyance remained ever-present. "Just get your captain, you cunt, or I spill her blood right here."

A cocky smirk expanded across Jane's face. She leaned forward ever-so-slightly toward the galleon's captain, and tipped her hat down further in what she hoped was construed as an insulting mock salute. "I
am
the captain, mate."