Wind Raven (Agents of the Crown)

by Regan Walker

  “We have the early deaths of our mothers in common,” she noted. “But why take up piracy?” Tara could not imagine any man with that background, education and wealth becoming a pirate, preying on merchant ships, no matter the lack of a mother’s love.

  “Ah that is another story, cariño, one of brutality demanding revenge. I would not speak of it tonight and steal from our precious time together. Tell me why you were with Captain Powell. I have long known of the English captain they call the Raven who sails the waters of the West Indies. But why are you his…passenger?”

  “If you must know, I am returning home to America from my aunt’s house in London, where I spent the last year. Captain Powell’s mother is a dear friend of my Aunt Cornelia. My father in Baltimore is ill, perhaps even dying.” Tara spoke the words, reminding herself as she did of the man she had worried about since she left England. “But why do you ask? Surely my troubles cannot be of importance to you.”

  “Everything about you, cariño, is important to me.” With his long fingers, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, where the night wind had blown it. She stiffened as he placed his hand on her neck and curled his warm fingers about her skin, making her shiver. He drew her to him and before Tara could object, brushed his lips across hers.

  She pulled away. “I do not wish your advances.”

  “I will not force you, cariño, as I would force no woman. But in time you will see I am the man you need.”

  Tara nearly sputtered. “A pirate? Why would you think that?”

  “Some things cannot be explained just now. Then, too, you might consider that I will not always be in my current…profession. But know this, cariño. I, Cofresí, will win you, of that you can be certain.”

  Chapter 14

  Nick was glad he had insisted the hold of the Wind Raven be kept clean. He did not fear rats, and besides, the gray cat had found her way to where his crew sat nursing their wounds. But even with his standards of cleanliness, the hold stank of bilge water, and his nose never dulled to the rank odor.

  They’d had no food since being thrown in the hold, but at least they had the water the pirates had not removed, which was stored in casks. Somewhat surprisingly, the pirates had also left the spare canvas, spars and anchor cable, for which Jake had expressed relief. Optimistically, Nick thought, the bos’n looked toward a day he might need them.

  Nick’s only injuries were some badly bruised ribs, a cut lip and a bruised jaw. But others of his crew did not fare so well. They had lost a half dozen men to the pirates’ machetes, and most of the rest were wounded.

  It had taken them a while to assess the injuries. There was only one lantern in the hold and the light was dim. John Trent had taken a slash to his arm from a machete. Augie Adams had received a blow to the head and was still unconscious. Charlie Wilson had various cuts on his limbs, including a slash to one arm. Smitty had a deep gash in his side. Thankfully, little Peter was unharmed. Jake and Russ were also without major injury, along with Nate. That is, if he didn’t count the cuts. The wizened older seaman tended the wounded in his usual competent manner, using their shirts and what little cloth was to be found in the hold to clean and bind wounds. Nick’s medical kit was still in his cabin so they made do with what they had. Peter scurried between the men, offering them water. The other cabin boy, Joshua, who also survived unscathed, having been defended by Jake, trailed behind, trying to do what he could to make the men comfortable even though he was still wide-eyed from the pirate attack. The cook, McGinnes, was wafting eloquent about the wrath of the fairies. Nick was of little use to them as both he and Russ had been bound in chains.

  “How are the men, Nate?” he asked, still favoring his side where he’d taken the blow. His left arm caused him only a little pain where he’d been grazed by the machete. Lifting his chained hands to wipe the side of his face, he came away with a streak of blood from the cut on his mouth.

  “Holdin’ their own for the most part, I think. I’m worried about Smitty, but he’s still out so at least ye’ll not hear him groanin’. Last I checked he’d stopped bleedin’. Yer next on me list. I must clean that wound in yer arm and I’ve some torn strips to bind those ribs ye’ve been holdin’. I know ye don’t think I see how they’re painin’ ye, but I do.”

  The older seaman wound the cloth strips tightly around Nick’s ribs. Thankful for the lessening pain, Nick leaned back to consider their plight as Nate tended his arm. If it hadn’t been for Tara’s appearance on deck, and all that followed, they might have fought on to the end. But that opportunity had passed. Looking over at Russ, he asked, “Have you been thinking of an escape?”

  “They’ll have to bring us topside at some point,” said Russ. “We’ve enough men left we might start a scuffle sufficient to gain the upper hand if we can take their weapons. Won’t be easy, and may not succeed, but it may be our only chance.”

  “I’ve considered that. If we choose that course, we’ll have to make sure Peter and Joshua and the badly wounded are brought up last.”

  Nick’s thoughts were full of Tara; he worried what the pirate had done with her. Along with his ship and his cargo, Nick was certain Tara would be counted as spoils. He could still see the look on Cofresí’s face as he said, “Ven aqui, mí cariño.” The gleam in the pirate’s eyes had been possessive when he had beckoned her to come to him. The pirate had repeated the words in English, but it had been unnecessary. Nick well understood the meaning. Cofresí had claimed Tara McConnell just has he had claimed the Wind Raven. It jarred Nick to hear the pirate call her sweetheart. His gut had twisted in alarm. Though the pirate had said he would not harm her, Nick did not see how a man with so few scruples could be trusted to keep his word.

  Nick’s feelings for the American girl ran deeper than he wanted to admit. He would gladly die to see her safe.

  * * *

  As Cofresí had assured Tara the night before, his ship remained anchored in the luminous bay overnight. The pirate captain had given her his cabin, and though she had locked the cabin door and stretched out on the bunk, she slept little. Worried about Nicholas Powell and his crew and wondering what the pirate meant by his statement that he intended to win her, or why he would want to try, Tara was a frazzle of nerves when he knocked on the cabin door the next morning. She had just changed her gown to a clean one, the special one with breeches beneath, and pulled her hair back into a knot, when she opened the cabin door. The tall blond pirate stood there grinning.

  “It’s a glorious day, cariño. Come. I will show you, and when we return to my cabin, breakfast will be ready. You ate so little last night you must be hungry.”

  Though she was beyond hunger, her head hurt and a sick feeling in her stomach told her she needed to eat or she would have no strength. Still, it seemed wrong to eat anything when the captain of the Wind Raven was bound in chains in his hold. She had spent the dark hours of the night trying to think of a way to get a weapon to his crew, even searching the pirate’s cabin in the hope of finding one, but had not been successful. In truth, she’d thought of nothing, save tossing a weapon to them when they were brought up from their prison, assuming she could get her hands on one.

  She followed Cofresí up on deck, where clear blue water surrounded his schooner, rocking gently at anchor in the calm waters of the bay. His men, busy about their chores as they prepared to get underway, leered up at her. At their captain’s harsh glare, they went back to their work.

  Hearing the sound of a sail luffing in the wind, Tara looked up to see a strange blue, red and white flag flying from the main mast. It was divided in the middle by a white cross, the two lower corners were red and the two upper corners were dark blue with one white star in the left blue corner.

  “What is that flag?” she asked Cofresí.

  He smiled and his blue eyes lit with a fervor she’d not seen since the first time he’d looked at her on the deck of the Wind Raven. “The flag of the Free Republic of Porto Rico.”

  “You do not fly the
flag of Spain?” Tara was surprised. Porto Rico belonged to Spain.

  “No, I do not, though I am not so foolish as to prey on the ships that do. For my forbearance, Spain looks the other way when I take my prizes from the merchantmen of other countries. The flag I fly is that of my real allegiance, the fight for Porto Rico’s independence from Spain. I give my best prize ships to my friend El Libertador Simón Bolívar, to help the cause of independence in Venezuela and South America. Have you heard of him, cariño?”

  “Yes, my brothers who were privateers in the last war with England have spoken of him.”

  “He is a great lover of liberty, as am I.” Then looking at her with sudden tenderness, he said, “He greatly admires America and the war you waged with the English for your independence.”

  “You are not only a pirate, but also a revolutionary?”

  “We are not so different, you and I, cariño. I capture prize ships and give the bounty to my countrymen and those fighting for freedom, just as did your American privateers. We both wish to be free of the European powers, no?”

  “America has fought to be free of the British, yes.” She would concede that and no more. “But England and Spain are not at war. How do you justify taking Captain Powell’s ship?

  His blue eyes flared for a moment, conveying the passion within. “Spain may not be at war with England, cariño, but I am.”

  Tara wondered what that could mean and why he would declare a personal war on a country, but she wanted to ask another question more.

  “Do you intend to give the Wind Raven to your friend Bolívar?”

  “Exactly my plan, cariño.”

  “And you would tell me of your plans…why?”

  His lithe movement brought him close, barely inches away. She took a step back and he followed, capturing her elbows in his hands and looking deeply into her eyes. “Because I want you to know my heart and to share my life.”

  * * *

  Tara was horrified at the pirate’s plans for her. She could never do as he wished.

  She managed to force down a small bit of breakfast before they sailed back to Boquerón Bay, where the Wind Raven was anchored. Anxiety for the fate of Nicholas Powell and his men left her stomach unsettled. She set her eyes on the horizon and sighed with relief when the larger schooner came into view.

  “Bring up the crew of the English ship,” ordered Cofresí as he stepped on board the captured ship. Tara followed closely behind him, wanting to be assured the men of the Wind Raven were as she’d last seen them, or at least no worse. “But leave their captain in chains below,” added the pirate captain.

  Nicholas Powell was still in chains. She had to think of a way to help him. But how?

  As the Wind Raven’s crew came up on deck, blinking their eyes against the blinding sun, the pirates stood guard, machetes unsheathed and ready. Tara watched the eyes of the men she had grown to care about. They looked tired and hungry. Some of their clothing showed the signs of the fight the day before, torn and splattered with dried blood. A few were limping or bearing cuts, and some had makeshift bandages. Their shared glances told her they were planning something. Fear for them washed over her like a wave as she thought about what the pirates might do to the unarmed men should they attempt to regain control of the ship.

  One of Cofresí’s men approached him with a look of urgency. “Capitán, there is a problem with the rigging on the English ship.” Gesturing high into the shrouds near the top of the main mast, the pirate said, “Something is wrong in the lines near the crosstrees and Manuel discovered a broken tie chain.”

  The pirate captain scowled and squinted into the sky, looking toward the crosstrees high above them. “Watch the English crew. I will see this for myself.”

  Cofresí’s long legs ate up the deck as he strode to the side of the ship, deftly swung onto the shrouds and swiftly climbed. Tara watched, as did the crews of both ships, as the pirate captain muttered what sounded like a Spanish oath and scaled the rigging. It was clear he was frustrated as he reached the crosstrees and hauled himself up the futtock shrouds, leaning backward, precariously perched over the deck a hundred feet below.

  With a visible effort, he swung his weight up over the edge, reaching for the shroud above—and grabbed only air. At that moment, Tara remembered Jake had not finished the repairs aloft and the shroud was not properly rigged. Cofresí could not have known and now there was nothing for him to take hold of. Tara gasped as he fell back, dangling from the crosstrees by one hand, flailing his other arm wildly as he sought to gain purchase and prevent a fatal plunge.

  Should she try and save him? And if she did, would it gain the freedom of Nicholas Powell and his crew? She could only hope. Tara ripped away the bottom portion of her gown, leaving her in breeches. Hearing the fabric tear, Cofresí’s men turned their attention from their captain to her. Ignoring their shocked faces, she raced around them and leapt into the rigging. She could hear one of the pirates following as she climbed to where the pirate captain dangled high above the deck. She had always been fast climbing the rigging, faster than any of her brothers. It had served her well when she’d rescued Billy; it served her now.

  Holding onto the doubling, Tara leaned out, stretching as far as she could, and grasped the leather of one of the pirate’s boots. As she took the heel into her hand, her foot slipped and she fell back onto the doubling. Gasps sounded from the deck below. Her heart racing, she fought to control her fear. Righting herself, she reached again, this time without losing her footing, and again took hold of the pirate’s boot.

  “Will you free this ship and all who sail her if I do not let you fall to your death?”

  The pirate captain grimaced, his hold loosening. “Will you stay with me if I let them go?”

  Tara knew in an instant what she would say. There was no choice, not really. If the pirate fell to his death when she could have saved him, both she and the Wind Raven’s crew would be slaughtered. If she stayed with him, the captain and his men would go free.

  “Yes.” She pulled Cofresí’s dangling feet back to the rigging, first one booted foot and then the other, setting them firmly onto the ratlines. Tara could feel Cofresí’s legs shaking; she could see the sweat beaded on his forehead as he turned his head and looked down to see her below him.

  “Madre de Dios,” he said, expelling the breath he was holding, “you saved my life, cariño. And for that I will keep our bargain.” No one had heard his words, save the pirate who had followed her into the rigging and who was now just below her. He gave his captain a troubled look.

  “It is all right, Manuel,” Cofresí shouted past her. “The woman rescued me from the faulty rigging. It was good that she did, sí? You would have been too late.”

  “Sí, Capitán, I am glad for the señorita’s quick thinking and quicker feet.” The pirate Manuel gave her a steadying gaze. He knew the bargain she had struck.

  From the looks of the Wind Raven’s crew as she descended to the deck, they were not pleased she had spared the life of the pirate. To them, she had aided the enemy. Little did they know of the promise she had won by giving the pirate his life.

  Once they were both standing on deck, Cofresí took her hand without a word and led her across the plank that had been laid between the two ships. She felt the hard stares of the Wind Raven’s crew following her. She could see they had known of the dangerous situation on the crosstrees and had hoped Cofresí would fall to his death. Had counted upon it. Still, Tara did not regret her action, not if it led to their freedom.

  Once on his ship, Cofresí led Tara to his cabin, where he poured two glasses of Madeira and handed one to her. His blond hair had come loose from his queue and hung around his shoulders, framing his silver and black earrings. “Drink, cariño, and celebrate with me the life you have saved. As it is mine, I am very grateful.” Then with a smile spreading on his face, he took a large swallow of wine and said, “It appears I owe you the deuda you forced me to.” When Tara’s brows drew together,
he explained, “A debt. Or perhaps as you might think of it, I owe you a boon. And I will pay it.”

  “You have promised the life of Captain Powell and his men—and their freedom.”

  Staring at his Madiera, the pirate seemed to reconsider what he had agreed to. For a moment she feared he would renege. Narrowing his gaze to study her, he finally said, “You may trust I will not break my word to you, though it will anger my men and I would relish killing Captain Powell. But I will have you for consolation and my crew will have Captain Powell’s cargo.”

  The look he gave her was cunning; it sickened Tara. She had no desire to remain the prisoner of the pirate and all that could mean. But no matter the cost to herself, she could not bear for him to take the life of the man she loved, even if that man did not return her love. Nor could she allow the crew of the Wind Raven to be sold into slavery to spend the rest of their days at hard labor on foreign ships. There had been no doubt when she’d scaled the rigging that their freedom had been her goal.

  “I will hold you to your promise, Captain.”

  “I expected no less, cariño. But you must convince the Raven and his men. You must make it appear you are staying with me from your own desire, not as a bargain for their lives. Perhaps they can be made to believe we are already lovers, no?” The look he gave her said he expected it would be true soon enough.

  “I will never willingly become your lover.”

  “We shall see.”

  Tara swallowed her fear for the future. She could not think about the gleam in the pirate’s eye. He was right to insist she make the men of the Wind Raven believe she wanted to stay with him, lest Nicholas Powell risk his life and the lives of his crew to preserve her honor and her safety. How else could he explain to his mother what he’d done with the niece of her best friend? No, the pirate had the right of it. She must make it convincing. Captain Powell must believe it was her decision. And what would happen to her after that? She shuddered to think. She had to get back to her family—to her father. In her mind, a plan to escape the pirate was already forming. Though she would go with the pirate to save Nicholas Powell and his crew, she would not remain with him.