“I say we ask ‘im, that’s all,” one of the other pirates, a man called Greybeard, was saying. “Captain’s done nothing but support us. What difference does it make if we don’t know the whole plan?”
“And I say it’s not right to follow a man in the dark,” the man across from him spat. He was a newer member, someone we’d picked up in London and I didn’t know his name yet. He looked much cleaner and wise than the others around him, though, which immediately made me think he might be the right one in this argument.
“What do ye mean, Black?” I knew who was speaking now. It was the quartermaster, Gordon White, who always made me think of a certain other large, green man who was hulking over everyone else, and was really not a nice person when he was angry.
“What do you think I mean?” Black shot back, huffing indignantly as he pushed his short, blonde hair out of his face. “We followed orders blindly under the Dogs, didn’t we? And look where it got us! We didn’t know anything and the treasure was right there the whole time! Captain Randall ought to tell us the truth. We’re all part of the brotherhood; why is he the only one who gets to decide anything? We should have a say!”
“He has a point,” Flanagan said, speaking up from his self-assumed post by the door.
“See!” Black pointed at him, a smile on his face. He’d found an ally and wasn’t about to let him go. “Tell me, Flanagan, how did the captain’s last attempt at getting the treasure go?”
“Not so good,” he responded easily, acting as if he were simply indulging the conversation for the sake of passing the time.
“Not so good.” Black turned to each person in the room, looking them in the eye before he kept going. “Not so good! He had the head of Medusa in his hands and let it go! You all saw him! You were on that island for weeks, digging that stupid pit to the treasure, only to watch your friends and family slaughtered by the Dogs! And what did Randall do? He dropped the one weapon he’d managed to grab down there and ran. We could have used that shield in countless ways to gather the rest of the treasure. Did he care? No! He goes on and on about how he got the ichor, but to what end? Now he wants to go after another treasure and we don’t even know where it is—he doesn’t know.”
An uncomfortable murmur spread through the group. It was clear that many of them agreed with what Black was saying. Somewhere along the way, Randall had goofed up, and his crew wasn’t happy about it.
“Who are the Dogs?” I asked Flanagan, not quite following the conversation.
“Templars,” he whispered back, raising a finger to silence me as he watched the conversation continue.
“The shield won’t matter once we have this treasure,” Greybeard argued back. “And Captain knows that. That’s why he left the other things instead of grabbing as much as he could. What do you expect ‘im to do? Them Dogs were down there fighting ‘im. He’s lucky he got what he did.”
Randall’s supporters voiced their approval to that statement, White included.
“How do you even know if you’re telling the right story?” he demanded of Black. “You weren’t even there!” Stepping out of the mass to join his opponent in the middle of the room, he gestured to all of us. “I was there—one of the first to join Randall’s cause when he plucked me out of that Hell in Africa! You may not agree with how Captain Randall does things, but you can’t deny that he gets the job done! If those Dogs hadn’t shown up, we would be richer than any king on Earth, right now! It’s not his fault that we met opposition. We knew we would; it was a dream to think we would make it off before anyone else arrived.” He thumped his chest as he continued, his beefy hand clutched into a large fist over his white shirt.
“You didn’t hear the things that Dog we had with us said. I did! I was with the Captain the whole time, right up until he climbed down into that pit. If you knew what I did, you would know he did all he could for us, for the treasure. You wouldn’t be standing around, arguing because you don’t know what port we’re going to stop at next. This is bigger than stopping at damn port—bigger than you and bigger than me. Captain is the only one who knows the plan because he’s the only one he can trust to keep it safe.”
“A captain who can’t trust his crew can’t be trusted by anyone else,” Black retorted loudly, speaking over the impassioned man. “Secrets should not be kept from your brothers!”
The argument was coming to a head, heated discussions breaking out among other members present as Black and White continued to go at it in the middle.
“Just wait,” Flanagan said, nodding for me to join him at the wall. “It’s going to get real good here in a second.” He tilted his head toward the door, a smile on his face, and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a grimy cigarette and twirling it between his fingers.
Frowning, I watched, as he seemed to stare into nothing, his ear pointed toward the door. Finally, it dawned on me what he was doing.
“How long has the captain been outside?” I asked softly, leaning against the wall as well and trying to look unconcerned with the fighting going on in front of me. It was possible to do, as long as no one pulled a knife or gun.
“A good while,” he said back, laughing under his breath. “Methinks Black won’t be with us much longer.”
When I didn’t reply, he nudged me with his elbow, winking in a knowing manner. It didn’t matter; I knew what he’d meant.
It wasn’t likely that a man who was openly talking about defying the captain and committing mutiny would live through the night.
“Why doesn’t he just come in?” I finally inquired, impatient for the yelling around me to stop.
“He’s listening,” Flanagan replied simply, shrugging. “Who knows why he does anything? No one here, that’s for sure.”
“Do you think he can even hear anything through all this?”
“He can hear,” he said, nodding. “That he can.”
Curious, I leaned a little closer to him, keeping my voice as soft as possible for him to hear over the racket. “Which side are you on?”
He looked at me in surprise, putting the cigarette back in his pocket as he stood up straight. “Why, the captain’s o’ course. Who else?”
Grinning, I bobbed my head, wanting to seem like I was a friend to him as I stepped out in front of the entrance His loyalties were still in question in my mind, but there was no time to press him more under the cover of the shouting.
“Gentlemen.” Randall’s voice drew our attention as the door opened, his presence causing an instant silence in all those present. Black pants stretched into matching, calf high boots, a red, billowing shirt draped from his torso, the sleeves gathered at the wrist. Around his waist, a dark, leather belt housed his gun and cutlass. His black hair was pulled into a thick tie, hanging over his shoulder like a horsetail. He held himself like he was a great ruler, here to speak with his people, the sun illuminating him like a god from behind.
Suddenly, I wondered if that was more or less how he saw himself.
“Mister Eyes.” He waited for me to step out of his path before coming further into the room, the door falling shut behind him. It was as if he hadn’t heard a thing anyone had been saying, his air easy and carefree as he walked up to White, nodding for him and Black to leave the center of the room. He paused then, seeming to think for a moment, and took a deep breath.
“As many of you know, when the Black Knights were so unjustly destroyed in the thirteen hundreds, those mutinous Dogs who dared to call themselves Knights stole our treasure out from underneath us. They tortured our brothers! Roasted them over open flames! Locked them in their own Temple to rot! They thought they had won. But they had not!”
This was met by a few grunts and murmurs of agreement, the men too involved to really celebrate anything he was saying. I had the small impression that he started every speech somewhat like this, and I listened on, curious as to what he wanted to share.
“God called his men back to the good fight, and the Black Knights rose again. And again, a
nd again! Here, today, we stand, those who are willing to do whatever it takes to share the truth of God and his powers with the world.”
His voice was impassioned as he spoke, his hands moving with the words as he rotated to look at each of us, speaking to the group as a whole.
“We infiltrated the Dogs’ camps, became part of their crews, earned their trust. And we have now in our possession, ichor—the blood of the gods—and none will take it from us!”
Actual shouts rang out, the men who had supported him in the argument staring at him like the god he was acting the part of. Watching them all, the dynamics of the group became clear to me; this ichor was the only thing keeping Randall in the leadership position. Those who reinforced him did so because he’d managed to bring back a piece of the treasure. Everyone who didn’t want him at the head of their organization didn’t care one bit about some tiny thing he’d taken.
“We found part of the treasure,” he continued, staring at each man in turn. “It was within our grasp! When the Dogs came, it was only us that survived the massacre. They tried to end us again, to take what is rightfully ours, to stop the progression of man. And still, we prevailed.
“Brothers, I come to you at this moment, to finally share the plan you have been longing to hear since I first told you we would be kidnapping O’Rourke’s wife.”
Turning to face me, he smiled triumphantly, holding his hand out toward me as he went on. “Snake Eyes. You have joined our brotherhood. Our ways are a mystery to you. Allow me to explain just what it is we are doing here.”
Surprised, I nodded, wanting to hear what his goal was just as much as everyone else. His strategy was sound, too. He’d heard the crew arguing, even if they didn’t realize it, and decided to give them what they desired before a mutiny ensued.
“Samantha Green O’Rourke.” He was back to moving about the room, addressing his crew, his brothers-in-arms. “Mister White, just what is this woman? What did we learn from the Dog we captured and extracted information from on our way to Oak Isle?”
“She’s from the future,” White answered promptly.
“Why would that help us now, as we are no longer in search of the riches in Oak Isle? Mister Black?”
Black seemed to shrink back, his earlier bravado fading away under Randall’s gaze. “Captain?”
“Why would a woman from the future be an aid to us now?” Randall repeated patiently, only a hint of venom to his tone.
Black peered around the room, as if he expected someone to help him, and then swallowed hard, staring back at his captain. “Because she knows things we don’t?”
Randall glared at him hard for a moment before slowly nodding, moving away. “She knows things we do not. But, everyone here except Snake Eyes knew this already.”
Thankfully, I’d maintained enough sense to act adequately surprised as they revealed who Sam was to me, my eyes wide as I looked between all of them, as if searching for confirmation.
“You see,” Randall continued, addressing me. “That’s why we needed her to tell us where the treasure was last night. That’s how she knew its location.”
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I stared at him, hoping he would take my silence as agreement to his actions.
“Unfortunately,” he sighed, turning around. “Dear Samantha lied to us.” His attention snapped back to me, fire in his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Snake Eyes?”
“What?” I asked blankly, trying to hide the instant panic his question brought.
The entire group shifted, staring at me, mirroring the surprise I felt as they waited for me to explain my traitorous deeds. Except, I didn’t have any idea what Randall was talking about. Samantha had lied, that was true, but how did he know I knew?
“You knew she was lying and didn’t say anything,” he said again, his voice more forceful and accusatory.
Had he heard us talking about how I was from the future, too? Did he just bide his time, waiting for the right moment to bring it up? Swallowing hard, I shook my head, denying his statement.
“I didn’t know.”
“Yes, you did!” The shout caught me even more off guard and I fought my instinct to step back and let him cool down.
“How could I have known something like that? Do you think she told me? I’m one of her kidnappers!” How did you defend yourself against the unknown? It seemed like I was reaching for straws, trying to grab onto anything that made sense.
“Weeks ago, the Dogs Grand Master started looking for information on a place further north than the city—a place where you spent a lot of time with the Natives. According to our man inside, they are protecting the treasure.” He snarled his explanation out, the crew gasping in all the appropriate places as his eyes burned into me.
Thankfully, he couldn’t have said anything else to make me feel calmer.
“Oh.” I almost laughed, stopping at his look and clearing my throat instead. “I was only with the Indians a few years, as a slave.”
This gave him pause. I’d never really shared much about my life prior to joining the shipping business and there was no way for any of them to dispute what I was saying.
“Why would they let their slave go?” he finally asked, eyes gleaming with triumph as he found what he thought was a hole in my story.
Shrugging, I smiled, knowing it would infuriate him more, but not caring. “I worked myself to freedom. They may be fierce, but they aren’t savages. A job finished is a job paid. In this case, payment was my permission to leave.”
Some of the men quietly conferred behind him, mostly in gestures. They’d heard stories of the same nature and believed me. Randall, on the other hand, was becoming more irate with each passing second.
“If they ever spoke of a treasure, it wasn’t around me. I’d swear so on a Bible, right now,” I added, trying to placate them all.
The captain glared at me darkly before turning, obviously upset that he hadn’t been able to out someone and show how much power he had to his faltering men.
“I always thought ye were some Indian heathen, Snake Eyes,” Greybeard said, sympathy present in his speech. “Er—do ye have a Christian name? Or do ye prefer the Indian one?”
The grin I gave him was tight at best, but I nodded all the same. I’d shared part of my past and now it was time to keep the story going. “Mark,” I told him. “I used to be called Mark. Snake Eyes is fine, too, though.”
“Mark.” The man smiled at me, almost in confusion.
With a sigh of frustration, Captain Randall pulled the pistol from his belt and shot Black straight through the forehead.
Shouting in surprise, the men scrambled away as the body toppled over onto the floor, a thin line of blood dripping down the face that was now pressed against the ground.
“If I ever hear mutinous talk from any of you again, you’ll be joining Mister Black in a sail, shark bait flung off this ship. Now get out, all of you.” The phrase sounded more like a declaration to have a tea party in the garden, his voice smooth and almost song-like as he dismissed us.
The Knights scurried toward the door, eyes wide, some angry, but none of them argued. I didn’t blame them; I wanted out of here as fast as possible, too.
“Not you, Snake Eyes,” he called, stopping me as I was inches from freedom. “You stay.”
Freezing, I kept my back to him, watching as the rest of the men filtered out, dispersing across the deck in a hurry. Sam was still where I’d left her, watching the group with interest.
“Close the door,” Randall ordered.
Stepping forward, I did as he asked, ignoring her darkening features as she watched me stay behind. There would be time to explain later.
Hopefully.
Having barricaded myself inside with the monster and Black’s body, I turned, trying to remain nonchalant and look straight ahead at the only other living man in the room. Randall sat down behind his desk, his still slightly smoking gun resting on the wood surface. It wasn’t lost on me that it could have been me
he’d shot, if I’d giving any inclination I wasn’t telling the truth.
“Do you know why I let you join this crew, Snake Eyes?” He was studying his fingernails, as if I wasn’t even good enough for him to look at.
“Because you needed me?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Because you lived with the Indians. You speak their language and know their ways. I let your doctor friend join because we needed someone who knew medicines. And I let the other mate from your ship join because he killed one of my best fighters.
“I’ve been planning this trip into the desert for a year now. Everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve taken under my wing, each little instance and event has been thought out months in advance. It was clear that I would need some kind of guide to get me to the treasure. When I found you, I thought it was another sign from God, blessing my path.”
He did stare at me then, his expression cold, eyes dead. “Now, based off your testimony before the men, you don’t possess the things I need from you. If I’d known you were a slave, I would have killed you on that ship and kept searching for someone to lead me.”
My mouth stayed firmly shut. He was trying to get a rise out of me, I knew it, but I wouldn’t give it to him. If he’d wanted me dead, I would be. That much had been made clear with Black.
Unable to help myself, I glanced down at the body, eyes still open in what looked like shock. Randall caught the action and laughed, leaning back in his chair like some giant corporation head in a mafia movie.
“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said helpfully. “While you don’t have what I initially needed from you, there is something else you can do that I can’t.”
“Sir?” I didn’t like where this conversation was going, or the way his tone seemed sugarcoated all the sudden.
“Our captive has a fighting spirit, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. For us, that means we will have a hell of a time getting her to tell us exactly where the treasure is. That’s where you come into play.”
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two) Page 20
