The Pirate Ruse
Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
Copyright
© 2010, 2013
The Pirate
Ruse
by Marcia Lynn McClure
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.
Published by Distractions Ink
P.O. Box
15971
Rio
Rancho, NM 87174
Published by Distractions Ink
©Copyright 2013 by M. Meyers
A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure
Cover Photography by ©Maryna Halton/Dreamstime.com and ©James Steidl/Dreamstime.com
Cover Design and Interior Graphics by Sandy Ann Allred/Timeless Allure
First Printed Edition: November 2010
Second Printed Edition: March 2013
All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,
created solely in the imagination of the author.
Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—
The Pirate Ruse
: a novel/by Marcia Lynn McClure.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010936924
ISBN 978-0-9827826-4-4
To Sheri,
Good times ever seem so good with
you!
Thank you for motivational counsel, hysterical
witticisms,
And for
leading me on the archeological dig to rediscover me.
Thank you…my cherry, cherry friend!
(I could go on and on…but there are only a few hundred pages in this book!)
Bring ’em Near
—A telescope.
Jolly Roger
—A pirate flag with a black field emblazoned with emblems of death.
Bloody Banner
—A plain red pirate flag, signaling death would come to all who saw it. The flying of the bloody banner meant pirates would offer no mercy in the ensuing battle.
Bloody
—A mild, nonvulgar slang term used as an intensifier.
Chemise
—A woman’s undergarment, loose-fitting and fashioned as a long shirt or dress, worn against the skin and beneath a corset.
Corset
—A woman’s undergarment, close-fitting and stiffened with whalebone or similar material. The corset was worn about a woman’s torso and often tightened by laced stays.
Schooner
—American privateers often favored topsail schooners. They were fast, fairly small ships and quick sailers.
La Petite Grenouille
—French for “The Little Frog.”
The Cat or Cat-o’-Nine-Tails
—The traditional maritime whip. Often a sailor to be whipped made his own cat-o’-nine-tails by unwinding a rope into its three strands, then further unwinding and knotting each strand. Each cat was used only once, for if used repeatedly, its bloody cords would infect the wounds it inflicted.
Pieces of Eight
—The Spanish silver coin (dollar), minted by the Spanish Empire following a Spanish currency reform in 1497.
Gold Doubloon
—A Spanish coin used from the mid-sixteenth to mid-nineteenth centuries. It was stamped from
gold
and common
ly referred to as a gold piece. It weighed just less than one ounce and was made from 22-karat (almost pure) gold.
“The bring ’em near, Cap’n,” Baskerville said, handing the telescope to his captain. “What do you see? Who be the two tangled ships?”
The infamous pirate, Navarrone the Blue Blade, stretched the telescope to its length—peered through it to the ships battling on the horizon. He felt a pleased grin tug at one corner of his mouth as he recognized the pirate ship broad aside a British frigate.
“Hmm,” Captain Navarrone mumbled. “It’s the
Screaming Witch
. Her crew is swarming the deck of the Brit’s
Chichester
.” Navarrone lowered his telescope a moment. As the right corner of his mouth quirked into a pleased half smile, he nodded. “Looks to be Captain Bully Booth means to plunder British spoils before we do.” Glancing to Baskerville, he allowed his smile to broaden. “Booth always has been the biggest imbecile to sail the seas.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Baskerville chuckled in agreement.
Navarrone raised the telescope once more. “Still…Captain Booth is flying his bloody banner. He means to give no mercy.”
“Ain’t the
Chichester
the ship they was speaking of in New Orleans, Cap’n?”
“Aye,” Navarrone confirmed. “And if any pirate is to have her bounty
, it be us, Baskerville…not that fool Booth.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Again Navarrone lowered the telescope.
“We’ve carried false colors long enough,” he said. “The
Chichester
will think a sister ship is coming to her rescue. Let’s not give hope where there is none.” Navarrone chuckled. “When Booth sees the figurehead of the
Merry Wench
bearing aft at him…well, another Brit vessel wouldn’t strike him near as threatening as we will. Eh, Baskerville?”
Baskerville smiled. “Aye, Cap’n.”
Navarrone nodded—collapsed the telescope, handing it back to Baskerville. “Hoist the Jolly Roger, lads!” he roared. “We be plundering the bloody British
and
Captain Bully Booth today!”
He laughed as the crew shouted with approval and anticipation of battle. His own excitement mounted as he watched the men begin to race over the deck of his ship, the
Merry Wench
. He saw the false colors of the British Empire being lowered—watched the skull, crossed bones, and winged hourglass on black rise, unfurl, and begin thrashing in the breeze. He inhaled a deep breath of sea air tinged with the barely discernable scent of cannon smoke. Battle was upon them! The bloody British would lose another ship, and Bully Booth would lose whatever booty was cached in its hold. Navarrone the Blue Blade would see to that!
“We’ll put the
Wench
starboard of the
Chichester
’s port…board her and beat down both Booth’s crew and the
Chichester
’s on her own deck.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Baskerville said. With a nod of understanding, Baskerville began to shout out orders.
Captain Navarrone’s dark eyes narrowed as he listened to his quartermaster barking orders to the crew with the skill, ease, and respect of the crew afforded any quartermaster or first mate in the regular navy. Baskerville was not only a true friend but also an accomplished sailor. Navarrone admired his quartermaster—knew that if Flynn Baskerville had had the choice given him of life in the navy as opposed to that of piracy, he would have made a fine and valuable naval officer—a one-day captain of his own ship, no doubt.
“Bully Booth will spill blood more willingly than he would a crock of grog!” Navarrone shouted to his men as he took hold of the ship’s helm. “Let’s make certain the right blood is spilled, lads!”
“Aye, Cap’n!” the men shouted.
Navarrone the Blue Blade laughed as he headed the
Merry Wench
to battle. The balmy sea breeze billowed the sleeves of his shirt, and he was glad he wore only his long vest, for its brother frock coat would not have afforded such a sense of freedom.
Baskerville continued to bark orders to the crew, and Navarrone’s heart began to pound with excitement as the
Merry Wench
closed the distance to the battle between the bloody British and the pirate Bully Booth. He could see the British sailors on the
Chichester
’s deck fighting to defend against the swarm of pirates boarding her from Booth’s
Screaming Witch
. He knew Bully Booth; the bloodthirsty barbarian would take no prisoners, leave no man alive. Booth was a murderous blackguard, and Navarrone was glad to finally have reason to match blades with such a devil.
The breeze blew Navarrone’s dark hair across his face, momentarily distracting him. Frowning, he paused at the helm to pull a blue length of cloth from his baldric. Stretching it over his forehead, he tied it at the back of his head, thinking he should have had Baskerville crop his hair shorter than merely at his jawline. Almost unconsciously he felt for the cutlass he knew hung at his hip. There would be brutal cutlass play with Booth’s men and the Brits, and though he knew the weapon was with him, he felt more readily assured in having tangible proof. The pirate Navarrone’s skill with a cutlass had well earned him the sobriquet the Blue Blade. Yet battle was always wild and fast—chaotic and wrought with peril. Best to know his cutlass was within reach rather than to assume it.
Wielding the helm, Navarrone wondered that Lafitte had not happened upon the
Chichester
and taken her already. Still, word was Jean Lafitte was too busy smuggling goods into New Orleans to be having adventures at sea. He smiled. With Lafitte otherwise engaged, all the more triumph and booty for the crew of the
Merry Wench
.
As the
Merry Wench
drew alongside the
Chichester
, Navarrone could see that her crew was indeed being slaughtered by Booth’s men. If any Brits hoped to escape with their lives, they had best surrender to Navarrone and let the
Merry Wench
’s crew best Booth’s.
He had been clever to bring his
Wench
to the
Chichester
’s port, for their port guns were unmanned—already occupied by the
Screaming Witch
to her starboard.
“Board that bloody British boat, lads!” Navarrone shouted as Baskerville hurried to his side once more. Drawing his cutlass, Navarrone nodded to his quartermaster. “Keep her steady, and kill anyone who tries to harm her!”
“Aye, Cap’n!” Baskerville assured him over the roar of the battle.
Navarrone watched as his men swarmed onto the deck of the
Chichester
via planks and ropes. The crash of cutlass steel rang out like an eerie bell-song, and Navarrone the Blue Blade felt his heart hammering with mingled excitement and dread.
He swung from a yardarm rope to the deck of the
Chichester
, fought off three sailors of the Royal Empire, and then spied Bully Booth across the way—on the deck of the
Screaming Witch
.
“Coward,” Navarrone grumbled in disgust. Taking the stairs leading to the
Chichester
’s quarterdeck two at a time, Navarrone wounded two rival pirates, pausing to shout to Bully Booth, “As ever the coward, Booth!” Deftly crossing a boarding plank to the deck of the
Screaming Witch
, he added, “Too afraid to fight for your own plunder…too much a coward to join your men in battle?”
“I’m surprised to see ya with yar cutlass drawn, Navarrone!” Bully Booth shouted in return. “I never thought to see ya risking that pretty face of yars!”
Two of Booth’s men advanced on Navarrone—and he easily cut them down.
“I’d rather have a pretty face on the front of my head than a dog’s arse the likes you’ve got on yours, Bully,” Navarrone countered, smiling. Navarrone sneered, disgusted by Bully Booth’s appearance. Long red hair, curly and somewhat matted, hung well to his waist. His eyes were small, green, and bulbous—like those of a toad. His beard was wrought into long twisted lengths, and Navarrone fancied he caught the stench of his rotting, yellow teeth upon the very air.