* * * *
More than a week later, the Scarlet Night fought strange winds and cross currents as they dodged the many islands found within the famed Malacca Strait. They’d been fortunate up to this point to keep their distance from other ships. Even the sleek junks with their bright flags flying from their masts to appease the dragons and their odd shell-shaped, battened sails. The Night’s speed together with the honeycomb of islands along the strait had served them well.
The men would have preferred to battle and add to their wealth, but Will couldn’t risk possible damage to the Scarlet Night slowing their progress. Looking out past the bowsprit he only hoped for swift, calm seas ahead.
Turning back to scan the length of the Night, a large, yellow alert flag with lead balls sewn into its hems hit the deck mid ship. Will’s gaze shot to the crow’s nest where the man there also yanked on the bell cord in alarm before pointing sharply toward the west. Will grabbed for his spyglass, but one glance told him he didn’t need it. A fist twisted in his gut.
Dark ominous clouds lined the horizon. Will knew exactly what headed their way. In these waters, quick strange storms rose up unexpectedly, bringing strong thirty to forty knot winds and intense downpours. Hellish storms, but fast moving. Still they were in for a wild ride.
Griffin joined Will on the port rail. ‘Sumatran?’ He finger spelled the word.
Will nodded. ‘Looks to be. Lash everything down. Drop every sail. We’ll ride it out.’ He moved to the upper deck and took command of the ship’s thick oak wheel from Simon Hills, the helmsman. Without Griffin to translate, Will himself would move them far enough away from the coastline and into deeper, safer water. There was no telling how the storm would toss them about and he didn’t want to run the risk of catching the Night on a reef.
Surveying the length of the ship once more, Will watched each of his orders carried out with swift and practiced precision. Every man down to the lowest powder monkey executed their duty flawlessly. A finer crew didn’t sail these waters or any other.
Men raced into the rigging and secured each sail on the Scarlet’s three masts. As the winds began to lift the heavy ropes of Will’s hair, anything that could move on deck was secured. Barrels were lashed to masts and rails. Cannon locks checked. Lines tightened.
The sky overhead turned menacing, but Will was confident they were ready for the tempest heading their way. Tupper battled against the growing winds to join him at the helm. She gripped the arm of his shirt to steady herself. He couldn’t let go of the wheel to order her below. Instead, he jerked his chin in that direction. To his surprise, she moved off without arguing, stopping only once to say something to Griffin.
Soon wind and driving rain plastered Will’s shirt to his chest and dripped from his thick hair. He and Griffin combined their strength to hold tight to the Night’s wheel as the ship was buffered and battered by the storm. Great waves crashed over the bow. The sea around them frothed and foamed as if it boiled.
After hours of fighting, the storm showed none of the familiar signs of passing. In fact, as the darkness of night blackened the skies around them, it only grew worse. This wasn’t a common Sumatran.
They had sailed straight into a blinding, bloody hurricane.
Seawater and rain stung at Will’s eyes and filled his mouth and nose. Great bolts of lightning split the sky and gave an eerie, hellish vision to the typhoon that engulfed them. His muscles burned and strained with the effort of keeping the Scarlet Night from being swamped in the ferocious seas. In the darkness, Will could no longer distinguish the coastline. With each flash of lightning, he struggled to find the shore, certain at any moment he would run them aground.
The sky lit once more with branched jagged swords of light. It was then he saw her. Tupper. Braced in the bow of the ship, clutching the rigging. Her clothing plastered to her thin body. Her boots slipping with each buck of the ship while she clung on through the beating of the waves over the rails. Icy fingers clawed at Will’s heart. Any minute she’d be washed overboard.
Will pounded on Griffin’s back, praying the man would know he was leaving him to battle alone. He released his death grip upon the pegs of the wheel and moved by sheer force of will and blind luck down the pitching ladderway to the rolling deck below. A vicious wave shoved the ship to starboard and slammed him into the portside rail. Will struggled to grab for any hold in the darkness. He had to get to Tupper before it was too late.
The next flash of lightning revealed her again. Somehow in the middle of these churning seas, Tupper had managed to climb higher in the ropes toward the bowsprit. She shook her fist at the sky. Mouth open, the tendons in her neck strained against a fervent scream Will could only see. Who was she railing at? The storm? The sea? God, Himself? Will pushed past the roil of his stomach and fought to reach her.
It was then the Scarlet Night met her final shot. In the obscurity of the black night, the ship struck something with such force, Will was thrown head-first into the foaming water. He hit the angry waves like a fist. The cold shock dragging him down, tossing and rolling his body until he couldn’t distinguish up from down. The sea was quick to fill his boots and pull him toward his certain death. Down he went. His lungs soon burning with the urgent need for air.
Will fought with every shred of his being. Struggling, he pulled free of his boots and kicked in the only direction that could be up. How far to the surface? Surely his lungs would burst before he reached it. Instinct and survival pushed him past the point of surrender, but he could feel the tempting pull of death calling him into her cold embrace. If he just stopped struggling…
His arm hit air as he broke the surface and gasped in a breath. Waves continued to crash over him and toss him about as he fought to stay alive. Where was the Night? Tupper? Had she been thrown from the decks as well? He had to find his way back to her.
Lightning pierced the black once more. Will spun about in a mad search before the dark could capture him again. Against the storm, he could barely make out the silhouette of the Scarlet Night’s once-proud masts pitched at a deadly angle. The ship was going down. They’d come in too close and she’d wrecked upon the reef. In the blackness of the storm, he pushed toward the wreck. Adrenaline pulsing through his limbs. The beating of the waves upon the coral would tear her apart. All would be lost. He had to reach them.
Through the dark, he battled against the relentless waves that shoved him with a mighty hand beneath the rolling surface. Sharp fingers of coral tore at his leg; the pounding of each surge beat him back. In the next slice of light, Will could no longer see her. Terror clawed at his gut. Where was the ship? Could the Scarlet Night truly be gone? No, he must be turned around. Desperation turned to panic as he continued to flounder in the punishing seas.
Will made another frantic attempt to reach the area where he had last seen the Night, but the fight of the waves was stronger than he was. It filled his belly with seawater and blinded him in the silent hell storm that continued to flood over him and drag him under until he couldn’t fight it anymore. Death’s sweet call bid to him once again. The battle lost.
Chapter 4
Jun went over the reports of losses due to the storm that moved over them through the night. She’d lost four ships of her own to the bite of the reefs and understood there was evidence of other wrecks washing up along the eastern coast of the island.
Fortunately, when her husband had built his grand palace, he had the sense to situate it so it rarely felt the brunt of the unpredictable weather along this end of the Strait. Of the two islands Pandang and Salahnama, known to all in this area as The Brothers, Pandang was the most sheltered of the two.
Last night’s gales had been particularly fierce, however. Many of her people were busy at work cleaning up the damage to their properties, the wide crescent beach that graced the southern shore, and her own precious garden. Peng himself was overseeing the rebuilding of two of
the northern docks weakened by the high seas.
Ke Zhao, one of her lieutenants, pushed into the great hall. He stopped before her, bowed in respect, and waited to speak.
“What is it?”
The man lifted his gaze to hers. “I am in search of General Chou Peng, Mistress.”
Jun rolled the parchment in her hands. “He is busy seeing to other matters. What did you need to see him about?”
“A man, Mistress. A stranger. My men found him at the water’s edge this morning.”
“He must have come from one of the lost ships. Is he dead?”
“No. He was unconscious at first, but has come around.”
Jun set the parchment aside and stood. “What vessel did he travel upon? Was he armed? Sent by our enemies? Have you questioned him?”
Ke Zhao nodded. “We have, but he stubbornly refused to respond. He is unarmed; however, when we put restraints on him, he reacted with extreme violence. As if he were suddenly a caged beast, and yet still he says nothing. I thought it best to seek the general’s counsel.”
“Bring him to me.”
The man faltered. “But, Mistress…”
Jun planted her hands on her hips. “I said, bring him to me. If he is a stranger, as you say, he will not understand your tongue. I will speak to him. I trust your men can keep him under control?”
“Yes, of course Mistress, but…” He gripped at the belt holding his sword. His fingers worried the leather.
Jun notched her chin and pulled a short dagger from the top of her boot. “Bring him to me…unless you’ve grown overly fond of your ears and would like them removed.”
Ke’s eyes widened before he took a single step back and gave her a sharp bow. “As you wish.”
A short time later, Ke Zhao returned. Behind him, two of his men struggled to drag a large, dark man between them. He was wet and covered with a fine film of sand, which made his rich skin almost shimmer in the room’s lantern light. Thick dark hanks of twisted hair hung past his broad shoulders. Strong arms flexed and bunched as he fought against his iron restraints. He was unshod, the remnants of his shirt clung in strips to the planes of his chest, and one torn leg of his pants revealed angry scrapes along his shin. An ugly gash over one eyebrow wept dark blood down the side of his face.
The men released him, and forced him to his knees before her. Jun could see where his wrists were worn raw by his fight against his bounds. Ke Zhao had told the truth. The man’s reaction at being restrained was curious indeed.
Jun spoke to him in English. “If you tell me your name and promise to act in a civilized manner, I will see your shackles removed.”
When he didn’t respond, didn’t so much as move, Zhao grabbed him by the back of his hair and forced his head up. Eyes the color of the finest topaz glared at her beneath dark brows. Their stunning intensity caused a catch in her breath. It was as if he could see clear to her soul.
She composed herself and asked once more in clear English, “I ask you again, what is your name?” Still the man remained silent. His only movement was to lower his gaze to watch her mouth as she spoke. Jun was clever enough to know a handful of other languages and repeated the question in all of them with the same lack of response from the handsome stranger.
Lieutenant Ke struck the man and screamed for him to answer before pulling his dagger and holding it to the man’s throat. At that same moment, Chou Peng and his men burst into the great hall shouting at the disgrace and dishonor of dragging a prisoner into Jun’s presence. Ke Zhao lowered his weapon and began hastily explaining the scene amidst Peng’s thunderous rant.
It was in the booming chaos of the heated exchange between the two men when Jun noticed something more about the man kneeling before her. A quick glance around the room confirmed that all eyes were on Peng, and yet the prisoner acted as if nothing was happening behind him.
“Stop, all of you.” Jun ordered pulling one of her swords. Why must some men behave like barbarians? She swung the honed blade. “I said, stop!”
“Take this man away from here this instant,” bellowed Peng.
“No.” Jun stepped off the dais and approached the man. “There is something curious. Stand behind him for a moment.” When Peng did so, she continued. “Clap your hands together.”
“What…?”
“Do as I say. Sharply. Twice.”
Peng clapped his hands. The man held her gaze and never blinked. “Ke, stay where you are and drop your weapon to the stones.” The man followed her order. When the iron hilt of his knife hit the tiled floor the man didn’t so much as twitch. Jun confirmed her suspicions.
“What are you thinking?” Peng returned to Jun’s side and narrowed his eyes at the man before them.
“I believe our prisoner is not rebelliously defying our requests. Or that he speaks some mysterious foreign tongue. It is my thinking this man is deaf.”
As if to confirm it for himself, Peng moved behind the man once more, pulled his own dagger from its sheath, and dropped it with a loud clatter.
Jun stood before the unflinching prisoner. “Release him.”
Peng protested. “Just because he is without hearing doesn’t mean he isn’t a danger to you.”
Jun sheathed her weapon. “I’ll take my chances.”
The man stood to his full imposing height the moment the shackles left his wrists. Jun had to tip her chin to continue to hold his gaze. Around her weapons were quickly drawn, but she held up her hand to stop any intrusion from her men.
“Someone bring me a bit of charcoal from the fire.” She retrieved the parchment scroll she’d been reviewing earlier and tore a piece away from its edge. When she returned to the silent man, she pointed to the middle of her chest before scrawling Jun with that small bit of charcoal. Jun repeated the motion of pointing to her chest, then pointing to her name. Next, she looked expectantly to him in question, pointed to the center of his broad chest and held out the parchment.
He reached out to pluck the charcoal from her stained fingers and taking the parchment, he braced it on one strong thigh before writing in bold block letters, Captain William Quinn.
* * * *
Will mimicked what the woman standing before him had done. He pointed to his chest and back to the parchment before turning the scrap over and writing, My ship the Scarlet Night wrecked on the reef. Have you found any other survivors? Every cell in his body, his head, and his gut ached in protest. It was a true struggle to stand. His lungs hurt to breathe, but it was a damn sight better than not being able to breathe at all. Somehow the sea had thrown him up last night and spared him. Only fitting that he had thrown up half the sea, as well, as his body rejected the gallon of seawater in his belly and lungs. But what of the others? There had to be others who washed ashore with him. He pushed a finger at what he’d written.
The beautiful Chinese woman named Jun met his gaze briefly before speaking to the others. Will turned to read their faces as they responded. His heart, like his beloved Scarlet Night, sank deeper as each man shook his head and looked in question to the next.
He closed his eyes to the pain that razored through him. His ship, his crew, Tupper…all lost? Will opened his eyes with a start to check his hand. A thin ray of relief pierced the darkness. Tupper’s ring still remained tightly bound to his finger. Its ornate “A” winking brightly. He moved to run his thumb over the letter when he noticed the pearl was gone. The small point of perfect white that had forever graced the face of her precious ring… It had been reclaimed by the sea.
Will’s right knee buckled under a wave of grief fiercer than those he survived through the storm. The threat of tears burned the backs of his eyes. He covered them with his hand and fought to remain standing.
Anger surged through him. No! This cannot be! Why? Dear God, why? Why should he be spared to carry the weight of this anguish alone? What possible reason could th
ere be for him to have lived when the rest had died?
He wouldn’t give up hope that the others could have survived. Will raked his hand down his face. Sand and salt still coated his skin. An odd man came to join the scimitar-swinging woman standing before him. They appeared to be arguing, and she was clearly winning. Her unworthy opponent was dressed in purple from head to toe. He resembled a skinny, bearded grape. So gaunt, his chin could have sliced cheese. In true Chinese style, the front of his head was shaved bald, leaving a long sharp pigtail to trail down his back. He was obviously a man of some power unlike these other bastards who split his forehead before they shackled him and dragged him from the beach. Now he’d have a matching scar to the one those British curs gave him when they’d first arrested him.
Will took a longer look at the woman. Clad in thick, black leather armor and a gold-trimmed breast plate that molded perfectly to each curve of her body, it was obvious she commanded a great deal of authority. The ornate headdress she wore could have easily been a crown. A queen with matching gold-hilted scimitars and boots that ended high on her thighs. Past the harsh edges of her uniform and the mighty swing of her sword, however, her striking beauty could not be denied. Smooth skin the color of rich cream held a soft blush high along her cheeks. Her full lips a shade of pink slightly darker, and the almond shape of her eyes darkened with kohl only added to her exotic appeal.
Wait a minute. His waterlogged mind took a moment to put all the pieces together. Dammit. Will was quick to turn over the parchment he still held. Jun. She’d written that her name was Jun. As in Jian Jun? Empress of the Dragon’s Fire Fleet? Most powerful, deadly pirate to ever sail the South China Seas? It had to be her. How many other commanding, goddess-like Juns could there be? She was legendary. Stories of her might and brutality reached far and wide on this side of the world and even beyond her fleet’s reach. Bloody hell.
She turned those stunning eyes to his once more. Will held up the parchment, tapped at her name before adding Jian. He looked back to her in question. She narrowed her eyes and slipped her hand over the hilt of her sword before giving him the smallest nod.
Within A Captain's Soul Page 3
