X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  The two Corsairs split up to take the ship on either side.

  It was no pirate ship, however.

  “Slavers,” Quinn muttered.

  “We sink the ship, we kill all on board, lad.”

  Quinn nodded. “Give the sail on signal. We’re going to have to let them pass.”

  Tavish left and began barking orders. He sent word to the crow’s nest to call off any attack, but the Turks were already on the other side.

  They clearly had the faster ship, which now proved problematic.

  “God damn it,” Quinn groused. “I did not really wish to fight them.”

  The Turks fired, then boarded the Portuguese ship.

  Gazing through her telescope, Quinn was impressed by the discipline the Turks exhibited. They were actually quite good pirates.

  And then she saw them.

  Two other Portuguese ships appeared out of the sunlight – out of the horizon.

  “Shit! Tavish, prepare the Firsts!”

  The men on The Edge scrambled quickly and efficiently to prepare to board the Portuguese ships.

  The Firsts were aboard the Portuguese ship as Quinn swung the Edge around to show her starboard side toward the oncoming vessels, acting as a blockade.

  “Archers, fire!”

  Fitz jumped up to the captain’s deck. “Fire, Callaghan? The slaves will die along with the slavers.”

  “Not our problem, Fitz. We can’t save them.”

  Fitz frowned. “Callaghan?”

  “God damn it, Fitz. There’s nothing we can do. If they sail by, they live to catch more slaves. If they engage, we will sink them all. Our concern is our two ships. That’s it.”

  Quinn watched her archers send flaming arrows across the sky.

  “Looks like they’re gonna sail on by,” Tavish said.

  “Fitz, we need to get those Turks off that ship. Let them join their formation.”

  Nodding, Fitz swung the ship around to side up to The Crow.

  Tavish bellowed to Abdullah to pull back and to let the Portuguese ship go.

  Abdullah did as told, pulling his men back to The Crow, leaving many dead Portuguese sailors on a bloody deck.

  “Let them go!” Quinn yelled.

  Once the Turks were back on The Crow, Quinn watched the three Portuguese ships sail away with their human cargo.

  “We’re really just letting them go?” Fitz muttered.

  “Aye. Three shiploads of slaves isn’t enna thing we can handle right now.”

  “Where do you think they’re headed? The New World?”

  “Aye. I have a feeling the New World is gonna be built on the backs of those slaves.”

  Fitz looked from Tavish to Quinn. “Well, when the two a ya decide to let me in on whatever secret yer keepin’, I’ll be happy to hear it, but I gotta say, I am surprised we didn’t try to help.”

  Quinn frowned. “The slaves?”

  “Aye. Ya do whatcha gotta do, Callaghan, but don’t keep me in the dark verra much longer, aye?”

  Quinn nodded. “Aye. Thank you, my friend.”

  Fitz stood in front of Quinn and Tavish. “I don’t know why we’re headed to France, but I think the crew is gonna have one helluva time.”

  When Fitz walked away, Tavish and Quinn watched until he got out of earshot.

  “Yer gonna have to tell him sooner than later. Ya ken that, right?”

  “You know, my friend, I’m not really certain I know enough to tell him enna thing, and even then, I don’t know that I should.”

  “Yer in a tough patch, lad, but I can tell ya what Maggie would say. She would say, women will never move forward without the help of men. Ya might keep that in mind.”

  “Will do, Tavish. Will do.”

  The Port of Calais was busy, colorful, and filled with some of the best smells Quinn had ever smelled. She’d heard the French could cook, but those aromas made her toes curl.

  “I wish ya’d let me come with ya, lad. Ya ken what happens everra time we are apart. I always have to come save yer hide.”

  “Not this time, Tavish. There should be no danger at all. While we have no idea what we’re walking into, I don’t want them to think I’ve already told someone. And I swear to God, if you or any of the guys follow me or try to watch from afar, you will incur a wrath you won’t survive. Do we have an understanding?”

  “Aye, lad. Yer on yer own. I’ll be at the ship if ya need ennathing, but I’ll not wait there fer hours. I’ll give ya two hours. No more. No less. So state yer piece in two hours and get yerself back to The Edge.”

  “Tavish—”

  “No, lad. Ya left with Sayyida and we had no idea where ya were or what happened to ya. Ya can’t keep us guessin’. Not enna more, and not in France. Two hours and we’re comin’ to get ya.”

  Quinn nodded. “Fair enough. It should not take that long. In and out. If I need more time, I will send a messenger with the words Kaylish, Becca, and Fiona.”

  “Good idea. And the men?”

  “They have the evening. Tell them to enjoy themselves. I want a couple dozen to stay on board for security. We go home tomorrow.”

  “And the Turks? Shall we take ’em with us?”

  “Aye. We are a crew, Tavish. Celebrate together.”

  Rubbing his hands together, Tavish laughed. “Then let’s raise the roof tonight!”

  “You’re a married man, my friend, so you can eat and drink, but that’s all the merry you get.”

  “Ah hell, lad, ya ken how much I love my wife. There’s nothin’ here fer me but good food and drink.”

  “Good to know. Now, get the crew together. I want to talk to all of them.”

  When the two ships were together, Quinn addressed the three hundred plus men.

  “Settle down, ya buncha misfits and listen up. Welcome to France, where you’re going to eat well, drink a lot, and fuck some of the prettiest women in all of Europe.”

  The men cheered and banged their swords on the deck.

  Quinn held her hands up once more. “They are beautiful women, I’ll grant you that. Keep your purses closed. No woman comes on board either ship. If I find a stowaway, she goes overboard along with the man who snuck her on board. Are there enna questions about it?”

  Lots of heads shaking.

  “Good. Then you all have a fabulous time tonight. We leave Calais at eight in the morning. Do not be late. We wait for no man. Now, get going and enjoy yourselves.” To Tavish she reiterated, “I’m trusting you, Tavish. No one follows me. I mean it.”

  “Understood. As long as ya understand my two hour rule.”

  Quinn nodded. “Enjoy the food, dear friend.”

  “I’ll enjoy everra thing more when I ken yer safely back to the ship.”

  Quinn stayed on board to make sure those staying back actually remained behind. Then she met up with Abdullah on The Crow and was surprised by how many of the crew stayed behind.

  “Many of those still on board committed grievous crimes against the French. I believe they prefer their freedom over the soft flesh of a woman.”

  Quinn nodded and relayed her orders to Abdullah. She liked him. She respected him a great deal and felt like she could trust him. “Abdullah, will you be whoring about?”

  “No, Önder, I will not.”

  “Good. I have a small side mission I need from you.”

  After securing both ships, Quinn made her way to the Partridge and the Pear, stopping along the way to act like she was shopping for goods.

  The French market seemed so much more docile and civilized than any she’d experienced. While still vivid with color, there was an air of restricted enthusiasm, as if the French wanted to be raucous but couldn’t be.

  It was very strange.

  As she wound through the market, she kept her eyes out for La Perdix et la Poire, which, to her surprise, was a huge tavern with people spilling out into the street using loud voices. She had half-expected it to be in some dark little corner of the city, but she was wrong.<
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  So much for her perception of “the group.”

  Entering the loud tavern, Quinn took a seat at the nearest table and ignored the stares she was used to attracting. A woman in men’s clothing was very different in a country like France, where tradition was kept regardless of how times changed.

  As she waited for a server to tend to her, Quinn eyed a large man who lumbered over to her.

  She raised an eyebrow as she glanced up. “Aye?”

  “Do you speak French?” He spoke clearly in French.

  Quinn nodded.

  “That table over there has a bet you’re Grace O’Malley.”

  Quinn grinned. “Does enna one think otherwise?”

  The large man dressed in attire no pirate she knew would be caught dead in. To Quinn, he looked ridiculous with his foppish attire.

  “Oui. I said you were not the red-haired pirate queen who draws blood at a moment’s notice.”

  “No? Then who am I?”

  His smile revealed several missing teeth. “I said you are Captain Callaghan, the pirate who helped our ally, Mary of Scotland.”

  Quinn sat motionless.

  She was… known?

  “Well…” she said, gathering her thoughts. “I hope it was a strong wager on your behalf because you are correct.”

  The Frenchman slammed his large palm onto the table. “I knew it!” Sitting down across from Quinn, he leaned forward. “So, the tales are true then.”

  “Aye.”

  “And did you travel up the Thames to save Grace O’Malley?”

  “I traveled up the Thames with her, aye, but I did not have to rescue her.”

  The Frenchman leaned back and ran his hand thought his wavy, shoulder-length hair. “It is an honor to meet one who cared so much for Queen Mary. She… she was an inspiration to many.”

  Something in his voice made Quinn wonder if he actually knew her. There was a tenderness in his voice she picked up.

  “Queen Mary was a wonderful woman and a great leader. I had the privilege of being in her presence several times and I am a better person for it.”

  The Frenchman blinked back tears. “Thank you. She deserved a better life.”

  “She deserved a better death…”

  Quinn reached her hand out. “Captain Callaghan. And you are?”

  “Frederick Boveé.”

  “Well, Frederick, you tell your men they owe you.”

  Frederick rose and bowed. “It was a pleasure meeting you. If you are in need of any help while you are visiting Calais, ask anyone for me by name. I am well known here.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, Frederick. I appreciate your hospitality.” Quinn watched as he walked back to his table to inform his pals they owed him. For her part, she was somewhat stunned to find she’d made a name for herself.

  Maybe that was how The Group knew of her… her many escapades centering around Mary.

  When the server came to her, Quinn wondered how she could see over breasts piled high like a group of melons. Her cleavage was easily a foot long.

  “What can I do for you, hon?”

  When Quinn finally took her eyes from the woman’s cleavage and caught her gaze, she knew this was Lisette just by the way the woman gazed at her. “I would like the black wine.” Quinn said softly.

  “We are currently out of that,” the woman said. “Perhaps some of our sweeter wine.”

  Quinn frowned. “What…um…what sort of sweet wines do you have?”

  “La Cave de Malo here in Calais has some outstanding wines. You should check them out. In the meantime, I will bring you an Irish whiskey you are sure to enjoy.”

  When the woman returned, she set the whiskey down.

  “You will find the winer’s daughter Rosalind quite helpful, I’m sure. She is usually working until sundown.” Ask for the savoie janne.

  Quinn reached for her purse, but the woman waved her off. “I would prefer you buy me a drink upon your return, if you don’t mind.”

  Slowly removing her hand from her purse, Quinn nodded. “Oh. Well. Yes.”

  “I will be at Le Coq Rouge at ten.” And then she turned and continued her serving.

  What game was this? Lisette was her contact, correct? Quinn suddenly wished she hadn’t asked Tavish not to follow her.

  Downing the Irish whiskey, Quinn rose and headed for the winery, which was a few miles out of the city.

  She had to admit, France was beyond gorgeous. With some rolling hills and a lot of flatlands, it was every bit as green as Ireland, but the buildings, especially the churches, were unbelievably beautiful.

  The horse she had acquired was not nearly as sturdy as the horses in Ireland, but he got her where she needed to go in short order.

  The vineyard’s first building was an enormous chateau, with sheep and goats who seemingly roamed freely around it.

  After leaving her horse with a stable boy, Quinn entered the winery where she was met by an elderly woman.

  “I’ve come for the savoie janne.”

  The old woman nodded. “Please. Have a seat. My daughter will come shortly.”

  Shortly was almost fifteen minutes later, when a young, quite homely woman entered the room. Her face was long and narrow, reminding Quinn of her horse’s face.

  “Hello, hello. I have been expecting you. Come. I shall show you the grapes we use for such a special wine.”

  Special wine?

  Quinn knew of no wine called black or yellow, but she understood the need to speak out of doors, so she followed the woman out the door and into the vineyard.

  “My name is Rosalind, Captain Callaghan, and I have indeed been expecting you.” She fingered the grapes and pointed up at the sky. “Act interested Captain, and I will tell you what we need.”

  Quinn followed her gaze and nodded as if enrapt.

  “First of all, allow me to welcome you to our resistance.”

  “Resistance?”

  Rosalind caught Quinn’s eye and then returned her gaze, and her hands, to the grapes. “Oui. We are resisting rule by men in every corner of Europe. The male monarchs continue to see war as a means for establishing dominance. Many of these wars are against female monarchs such as Elizabeth and others. Men care not about the deaths of women, children, and the elderly if those deaths line their pockets with gold or enrich themselves in any way.”

  “Let me stop you here, Rosalind. I am no supporter of the likes of Queen Elizabeth. Far from it. She has done Ireland no favors and therefore, she will receive none from me.”

  Rosalind nodded. “Understandable, of course, but one need not ‘like’ everyone in order to appreciate the meaningless deaths caused by male rulers around the world. Do not judge her too harshly before you have all the facts.”

  “The facts are she is trying to destroy my country.”

  Rosalind turned to Quinn. “Is she? Are you so sure of that? Isn’t it true that Ireland, like Greece, is divided? That your clans continue to fight amongst themselves even as the enemy roams all around them? How stable is a country whose men fight each other over small plots of land and territory? How stable is a country whose chieftains trade their power for titles of English nobility?”

  Quinn opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. Rosalind had just voiced Quinn’s greatest questions about the fate of her country and the manner in which its citizens faced a dire threat.

  “If Elizabeth does not pull you into her care, someone else will. The Spanish? Norway? The Ottomans? Captain Callaghan, surely you can see that all your clan infighting leaves you completely susceptible to outside attack. From anyone and everyone.”

  Quinn could not disagree and said as much.

  “Elizabeth is wise beyond her years. She is brave. She is a brilliant negotiator, and her people prosper. Her country prospers. Your people could do far worse than to be governed by her brilliance. I imagine you already know that, which is why you have left your waters on several occasions and for several reasons.”

  Quinn sighed.
“It is…complicated.”

  “Oui. It is. You have realized that you cannot help Ireland escape its fate. If you cannot help your people, there’s still much you can do to help the world. What we ask for is complete and total secrecy. If you must lay your life down to keep it, so be it, but you must protect the rest of us at all costs. At. All. Costs. If you cannot do that, then walk away right now. There is little harm you can do to us now because we are just spokes of a much larger wheel.”

  “How large?”

  “More than any of us know. We are done looking over our shoulders at the past and are looking ahead at a bleak future if we do not move forward.”

  “I understand that. I truly do. I am just not certain what it is I am walking towards.”

  Rosalind smiled. “Does that make you want to walk away? Is the unknown or uncertainty too much to bear?”

  “No. I face the unknown every single day, and the ocean is nothing but uncertain.”

  “Good. You have made it this far, Captain Callaghan, and not just out of curiosity. You have made it this far because you have recognized yourself as an agent of change in the world. If you join us, you will gain no gold, no precious stones, no titles. Your reward is a better future for women…one you might now even be a part of. Shall I leave you to consider?”

  Quinn stared at a cluster of grapes that looked like they were about to burst.

  The analogy of grapes to wine did not escape her.

  “You can count on me. All the way.”

  Rosalind turned back to her. “Truly? You can make such a decision so quickly?”

  “My…mentor and dear friend is Grace O’Malley. She has been fighting to keep Ireland free even as her own title of queen is ransacked by lesser men. She deserves better. Had the chieftains collectively chosen to follow her, she could have pushed the English and Elizabeth out of Ireland for good. So no, Rosalind, I do not need more time. Tell me what it is you need me to do.”

  “Return to Lisette at the tavern. She will take you where you need to go. I can tell you nothing except that.”

  “Is this how it is always to be then? Secrecy and subterfuge? Shadows and mystery?”

  Rosalind smiled and suddenly, her face was beautiful. “No pirate knows the word subterfuge, Captain, especially not an Irish pirate speaking French. You are an enigma already and I know the others will love having you be part of our group. I’ll have Gerard bring your horse around. It was fascinating meeting you.”