Always the High Seas: Pirates of Britannia Connected World

by Emily E K Murdoch

  One of the bound men gaped. “I never thought you had it in you.”

  Neither did I, thought Esmeralda, but she said aloud, “That will teach you never to cross me again.”

  She turned away and snapped at a galley lad, “Water. Victuals. Oars. In the boat.”

  The small boy nodded. “Already in, Captain.”

  She heard the respect in his voice and tried not to preen. Well, if this is what it took…

  She looked over the small boats. There was only one oar. That was tradition. Just enough to give them hope.

  “Put in another oar,” she said quietly.

  There were mutters from the crew, but they ceased as she turned around.

  “What’s the point in marooning them,” said George curiously, “if they can row?”

  Esmeralda sighed. “I am not a coward. If they want to come after me, they can. But I do not think they will be so foolish.”

  Respect could be seen on the faces of her crew. I suppose this was one way to discover who was truly devoted to her.

  “You will be sorry!” Shepherd shouted as the boats were lowered into the water.

  Esmeralda leaned over the side of the Periculum. “Yes,” she said honestly, “I probably will. But not as much as you. Set sail, George.”

  The Periculum pulled away quickly, tugged along by the wind. The rowboats would never reach them.

  It is not murder, she reminded herself as she turned away to look across the deck. They had food, water, and a way to get somewhere.

  Still, it did not settle in her stomach well.

  Esmeralda’s eyes took in what remained of her crew. Eighteen men, good men. She would no longer have to keep looking over her shoulder.

  She needed more men like these. She had already taken on more duties than most captains.

  More importantly, she needed a second in command—someone who knew the ocean life, someone accustomed to control.

  Esmeralda sighed heavily. “Bones, look through the possessions of the mutineers. Divide them between yourselves. I do not want to hear squabbles. Tom, swab this deck. I want the stench of betrayal gone.”

  She stepped across the deck but was halted by Cook.

  “And where will you be?”

  He scrutinized her, and she sighed. “You know exactly where.”

  As soon as she stepped down into the brig and saw Javier’s smile, she knew he had already heard everything.

  “Difficult day?” he said lightly, still seated on the chair he was chained to.

  Esmeralda laughed. It was impossible not to, and it was a laugh more of exhaustion than anything else. “No more difficult than any other day.”

  It was a lie. It had been a longer day than she had known in months, and every bone in her body wanted to go to sleep. But she could not yet. She had to eat, had to keep the crew together.

  “What position,” she asked heavily, “did you hold on your last ship?”

  “Contramaestre,” he said.

  Esmeralda glared. “I know you speak English, so don’t play with me. I am not in a good mood.”

  She was also too close to him. He was looking at her like an equal, like a man who knew what he wanted and was certain of getting it.

  “Boatswain,” he said. “I reported to my quartermaster, though I hear yours has taken a holiday.”

  Esmeralda sighed. This went against every instinct, but she had no choice. She needed someone to help her run this ship, and where was he going to run?

  “I need every hand I can get,” she said darkly.

  She did not need to say anymore.

  Javier reached forward, the handcuffs on his wrists, weighing them down. “If only these damned chains were gone.”

  He was smiling. The damned Demonios was smiling! But Esmeralda had to swallow down her pride if she was going to get to Southampton. Taking the key from Bones, the crew member assigned as jailor whenever someone was in the brig, she unlocked the manacles, but as Javier stood upright and stretched, she grabbed his face, holding his cheeks.

  He was taller than her, and she fought to keep her expression fierce.

  “I warn you,” she said darkly, “there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no crew member on this ship not loyal to me. Do not bother trying anything, Javier, because I will tip you over the side if I find you have disobeyed me. The authorities at Southampton can be handed a miscreant, or they can be handed a pirate. Both of us know what the punishment for being a pirate is.”

  Javier nodded, his mouth covered by her hand.

  Esmeralda dropped her hand and sighed heavily. “Welcome to the Periculum, quartermaster.”

  Chapter Four

  Javier swallowed down another mouthful of the…the whatever it was, but it was hard to stomach. With each mouthful, his body rebelled, hoping he would not force another.

  English food, he thought dully. Well, he had been warned about it as a child. The English pigs have no comprehension of good spices, his father had told him. They ate food only suitable for throwing overboard.

  Javier looked down at his plate. A gray mush of something covered it. At first, he had believed it to be prisoner rations and had considered complaining to the captain that, as the new quartermaster, he deserved what the rest of the crew received.

  But just a quick glance about the table told him that if anything, his portion was better than the others.

  “Good, isn’t it?” A lad seated five or six people down grinned.

  Javier smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but the men on either side of the lad hushed him and glared at Javier as though he had dared attack the boy.

  If he had thought the food's flavor would be a problem, it was nothing compared to the distraction of the woman beside him. She was…

  Dios mío. While the rest of the crew stared with nothing but suspicion, Javier was having difficulty not looking at Esmerelda.

  She was beautiful. There, he’d admitted it.

  He swallowed. She was intoxicating, viewing her crew like an emperor. She did not demand loyalty, but she did inspire it, and the way she filled out those breeches…

  Maldito. He needed to control himself. Beautiful but deadly, that was Captain Esmeralda. He would need all his wits about him to survive this.

  With only days until they reached Southampton, he needed to be alive at the end of it.

  If he were not in such a dangerous situation, surrounded by people who considered his family and name mud, he would be courting her, wooing her, and bedding her before the evening was out.

  As it was…

  “You do not like your food?” A man Javier recognized as a boatswain was staring with narrowed eyes.

  Javier considered this for a moment. “I am honored to receive the same portion as the rest of the crew,” he said honestly.

  There was a stifled laugh from the captain? Javier could not tell and did not allow himself to examine her face. He continued looking at the man who had spoken, Johns, was it? Eventually the man nodded.

  “Glad to see you’re grateful,” he muttered. “Not every Spaniard would be so fortunate.”

  Javier knew he was being taunted, pushed to see just how far they had to go before he stood up and pulled out a knife. No one could be as offensive as Andreas, a boatswain on his father’s ship. Javier was well practiced at the art of letting it rush over him, like an approaching tide.

  He glanced at the captain, unable to keep his eyes away any longer. She had almost finished her food.

  Javier sighed and played with the remaining food on his plate. A small part of him thought it was still possible to capture Captain Esmeralda and bring her to his family when they arrived in Southampton. She was unguarded at times. She was the captain. Any captain that needed guarding for all bells was not worth their salt.

  Perhaps it was time to just accept that he would be a servidor—a servant to the Periculum crew for a few days. He would need to consider his plan for Southampton, though. The authorities there did not take kindly to p
irates.

  Esmeralda threw down her spoon, which clanged on the metal plate. The plate was empty.

  He swallowed. If he was going to be her second in command, then he should really get to know her.

  “The food is…interesting,” he began quietly.

  Captain Esmeralda said nothing.

  Javier tried to read her eyes. Ladies were so obvious, at least the ones he had known.

  Not this one. Captain Esmeralda had no desire to share her thoughts with anyone.

  “What interesting flavor,” he said, biting down the thought that there was no flavor whatsoever. “What spices are used in this?”

  There was a laugh further down the mess hall, and the one they had called George grinned. “No one knows what Cook gets up to in the kitchen, and I, for one, don’t want to know!”

  The whole room laughed, and even Captain Esmeralda smiled, but still, she said nothing. Chatter started to move through the space.

  “So, Captain Esmeralda,” he said in a low voice, hoping this would allow her to be a little more open. “Where are we sailing to next? Southampton, did you say?”

  Finally, she looked at him. Her blue eyes were fierce, with no warmth whatsoever. “I do not talk to Demonios traitors.”

  Her words were clear, and they carried, sparking more laughter.

  Javier felt his hands clench. Maybe he should have stayed on land without the favor of his father. It surely could not be worth all of this indignity.

  But without Sánchez’s permission, he would have had no protection, no money, no safety. Someone would have been sent after him, and they would not have been kind.

  He was getting nowhere with this disgusting fare. Rising to his feet, five or six other men stood from their benches, drawing swords.

  Javier looked instinctively at Captain Esmeralda. Her dark hair was loose again, falling down her back like waves, and she nodded.

  The crew members sat, and Javier found his hands still clenched. Forcing them to relax, he walked around the edge of the mess room, being careful not to be tripped up by the wayward legs that went out of their way to find him, and stepped through a door into a smoky mess of a kitchen.

  Pots and pans were everywhere, each encrusted with something Javier preferred not to look at too closely. A pot was steaming on a fire, throwing up bubbles that burned over the edge, and there was a strange smell in the place.

  Javier coughed, overwhelmed by the steam, and a cleaver came whizzing through the murkiness. He only just managed to duck in time, the cleaver buried in the wall behind him.

  Cook approached him. He was tall, obviously the oldest of the crew, and very loyal to his captain.

  “And what do you want?” he growled.

  Javier tried to smile. “Just thought I would see if I could do something to make our meal better.”

  The words were not well chosen. Cook scowled and crossed his arms. “You don’t like my food?”

  Javier swallowed. “What spices do you have? Herbs?”

  Cook stared, and Javier was sure he was going to be thrown out of the kitchen, but then the large man strode over to a small chest and thrust it into Javier’s arms.

  Javier examined its contents. Far more flavors than he had tasted in that disgusting gruel. “What are you cooking next?”

  Cook jerked his head to the other side of the kitchen. Javier walked over there, wondering whether it was a good idea for him to turn his back on the huge man, and took a look. Braised cod. Well, he had thyme and parsley.

  Heavy footsteps resounded in the room, and then a voice said by his shoulder, “You’re mixing the herbs differently.”

  Javier nodded, not looking around as he concentrated. “The subtle flavors combine elegantly if you know what they are…if you have been told the secret. Here, watch.”

  It only took a few minutes, but Cook scowled the entire time. “I have never bothered with anything like that.”

  “And that,” Javier sighed, “is why your food tastes disgusting.”

  He froze. Had those words been spoken aloud? Turning slowly, he looked into the man’s face and saw quite clearly that he had.

  And then, to Javier’s surprise, the cook smiled. “Fair enough. I am always ready to learn, and I can see by your quick fingers that you have done this before.”

  Javier almost dropped the box.

  Cook laughed. “What, you thought we were all monsters?”

  It was difficult to accept this now smiling man, still hulking in the narrow kitchen, but Javier had to admit he liked him.

  “No, we are all just trying to get by,” the man continued, “just like you. Here, give me that box before you drop it.”

  Javier handed it over wordlessly. No, not like him. No one on this ship could know, could understand the ignominy of being born the son of a pirate lord and hating the ocean.

  “Do you mind if I stay here and…assist?” he asked.

  Cook nodded and began issuing instructions. Javier obeyed with goodwill, despite this being far beneath his skills. If this were all he was good for, then he would have been better off with his father and his damned crew.

  ***

  Esmeralda swallowed, clearing her palate of the evening’s gruel, and attempted to put Javier from her mind.

  It was impossible. The man presented her with a set of problems she never imagined possible. He was so handsome and intelligent and most likely as interested in her as she was in him.

  She leaned back in her chair and tried to survey her crew. They were not enough, but they would have to do until they arrived at Southampton, and they took on new hands.

  Until then, Javier would be her quartermaster. It had been discomforting enough to be seated beside him at the captain’s table. Only inches from her, at any moment just within contact…

  Her body had reacted in a way she had never experienced before, and she could not, would not allow it to happen again.

  No matter the attraction she felt, he was a Demonios. Her crew could not see her true feelings, and she must be more than a woman. More than a captain.

  “Thank God that Demonios has gone,” she muttered, half for herself and half for George, the nearest member of her crew.

  He grunted with a nod but said nothing.

  Esmeralda sighed. Despite her relief, she should probably have sent someone with him. She had permitted him to leave her sight without anyone else to keep an eye on him. What if he was, even now, sabotaging the ship?

  No, she could not think like that. If Javier was going to be her quartermaster for even the next few days, she must face the fact she needed to teach him some things about the Periculum. How she did not enjoy sailing due west, and how an easterly breeze made her skip along the waves.

  Was she a fool to consider it? What if Javier was not the man she took him for and was, after all, a spy? What if he had come here not for a new life, but to learn their ways…for a future attack?

  Esmeralda’s fingers found their way to her knife, a small blade stolen by her years ago. The handle was ivory, and the comforting weight brought relief to her troubled mind.

  She had no choice.

  The damned man would have to follow her tomorrow morning.

  Just as the thought crossed her mind, Javier appeared again. This time he walked around the mess hall more slowly, speaking to a few of the crew as he went. Esmeralda could not hear the conversation from where she sat, but it was clear that while some of them pointedly ignored him, others were a little charmed.

  A strange sense of pride in her crew’s loyalty rose in Esmeralda’s heart. So, they too had open hearts but were not fools.

  It was a different story, however, when Javier passed Chequers. He stopped, turned, and said something in rapid tones to the man, a sullen gentleman Esmeralda had picked up from a prison in Calais.

  Sullen no more. After just a few words from Javier, he perked up, smiling and speaking rapidly.

  Esmeralda smiled. Poor Chequers, having a Spanish mother in an English crew
, was not the most comfortable place to be, and she had worked hard to ensure he was included. Her efforts had never gained much success.

  Javier, on the other hand, had brought him to life. Perhaps he would be good for Chequers. Give him a chance to shine.

  Fool, Esmeralda immediately chastised herself. What was she doing? Javier was not a permanent member of this crew and never could be. As soon as they reached port, she would be clapping him back in chains and ordering George to dump him and be done with it. The authorities did not need to be involved, as long as he was off her ship.

  She had hardened her heart once again by the time Javier reached the captain’s table. “And where have you been?”

  He bowed his head before speaking. “Visiting el cocinero. Your cook.”

  Esmeralda raised an eyebrow. “And Cook allowed you in his kitchen?”

  He grinned, and a painful lurch stirred in Esmeralda’s stomach. “Of course he did.”

  It was impossible to untangle the emotions stirred in her heart. Suspicion mostly. Cook was notoriously protective of his kitchen, small and pokey as it was, and it did not seem possible that he could have taken to this Spaniard so quickly.

  However, when the next course was brought out, Esmeralda had to eat her own words and would have gladly done so if they had tasted as delicious as the fish they were served.

  “What is this?” asked one of the crew, staring down at the delicious meal suspiciously.

  Another poked it with a fork. “It doesn’t smell like fish.”

  “That is because it smells like food,” Javier said with a wry smile. “A Spanish braising technique which I have taught Cook. Try it.”

  To prove he had not poisoned their food, he took a large bite, and a surge of delight passed over his face.

  It was enough to give the crew confidence, and soon the mess hall was silent with the contented sounds of chewing. Esmeralda leaned forward and sniffed her food carefully before taking a mouthful.

  It was divine.

  Keeping a stern look on her face, she turned to the man who was rapidly charming everyone on the ship.

  “You have always been on this vessel?” he asked.

  She glared. Now he was attempting to make conversation?