AMBER WAKE: Gabriel Falling (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales)

by P. S. Bartlett

  “She has much more to offer than what’s in her hold. Not to mention, someone will be angered to madness at the loss,” I said. “Add to that, we’ve more crew than necessary. With all these mouths to feed, our provisions are dwindling faster than we can restock them.”

  “Their cost exceeds their income, I assume?” Carbonale asked, finally handing me back my spyglass.

  “Our income you mean but no. My dilemma is that we can’t keep stopping in every port for supplies and we’re lucky to come across a fully stocked ship—one of Chambers’s or not—every few weeks. Every time we make port, we risk our lives.” The intensity behind my words caused pressure to build in my aching head. The bandages had been removed and a week of rest had done me well enough to allow the wounds to begin healing. “I suppose I’d be lying if I said there weren’t a few faces aboard I wouldn’t mind parting ways with. However, I cannot maintain a healthy crew and keep them safe if we need to stop for provisions at every port we come to. We’ve lost more than I care to remember already.”

  “So it appears, my good fellows, the Waiting Lady awaits.” Carbonale turned again to the gunnel and stared off at our quarry.

  “This time, we do things much differently,” I said, moving towards him.

  “Of course. We’ll want to leave her sea-worthy and that glorious hull intact. May I?” he asked, holding out his hand for my spyglass again.

  “We may only hope they aren’t as foolish as the Peregrine,” Miles said, joining us.

  Carbonale turned and faced Miles and me with a somber look. “You do both realize that by now the Peregrine has made land somewhere and has dispatched communication to England of our attack? Perhaps a change of colors is in order?” Carbonale asked, looking up at the flag on the main mast.

  “He’s too stubborn. Believe me, I’ve mentioned this already.” Miles nodded at me and looked up as well. “It isn’t as if that flag means a damn thing to you anymore, Gabriel.”

  “It’s not my country who betrayed me, Mister Jacobs.”

  “We’re gaining on her, gentlemen. We can discuss flags and countries at a later time. I prefer to know our plan.” Carbonale had turned back and continued his observation of the ship as she came closer into view. “If we can see her, she can surely see us.”

  I tapped Carbonale on the shoulder and started off in the direction of the stern, and he and Miles followed me. When I was certain no one could hear and that the sound of our voices would not travel forward against the wind, I revealed the plan to Carbonale. “The Assurance, when she was known as the Majesty’s Venture, had many missions of a nature that required surprise and stealth. Some of her men were trained at the HAC.”

  Carbonale’s eyebrows lifted. “Marines?”

  “Yes. Mister Jacobs was an instructor for a short time, until I received my commission to captain this ship. I didn’t request for him to leave his post but he insisted on joining me. I’d have been a fool not to accept his offer. As you’ve learned, I couldn’t ask for a more qualified man for my second.”

  Miles smiled. “True. Long gone are the days when I could take Gabriel down to the deck. He knows all of my tricks…and created a few of his own.”

  “Then the plan is?” Carbonale asked, folding his arms across his chest and releasing a heavy sigh.

  “At sundown, we’ll take four men to row Mister Jacobs, Mitton, Ryan, and myself out to the ship. Naturally, we won’t be able to just skim up to her hull as if we’ve been invited, so once at a safe distance, we’ll slip quietly over the side and swim the remainder of the way. Once aboard, we’ll lock the men in the galley, as the others take the captain and the crew. Thank God we have a few swimmers aboard.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing I can swim,” Carbonale said.

  “No. I need you here.”

  “Surely you jest. You know this sort of action is something I’m…”

  “Staying.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Listen, with Miles coming with me, I need someone with the ability to keep this ship and everyone aboard safe and that someone is you. Gimby can handle things all right but these men respect you and you earned it. You have my trust and as such, you have theirs, too.”

  Carbonale turned from me and looked out at the ocean.

  “Listen to the man. He’s sayin’ you’ll make a fine captain someday. Maybe if you can put on a little more muscle, that is.” Miles chided.

  Carbonale’s dark hair whipped around as he looked at Miles and smiled. Maddox Carbonale had put on a great deal of muscle since he’d been at sea. His chest had become so big some of the men jokingly asked him for a dance during our celebratory gathering after the storm.

  “You know, you could have a valid point there, Mister Jacobs. It’s quite likely I could only manage affairs with two or three women at a time now, rather than say, five. Life at sea has most certainly softened me.” He placed his hand over his heart and lowered his head and shook it, toying with Miles.

  “Those were London lassies.” Miles laughed. “You’ll need more than strength with the wildcats in the ports.” He turned to me with his hands planted on his hips and his chest puffed out. “Captain, I think you may be mistaken about this one.”

  I gently rubbed the back of my head. Bristles of red hair were already beginning to fill the snipped out sections. “Now you both have me questioning my recovery.”

  “Begging both your pardons,” Carbonale said, assuming the stance of a Royal Navy man. “Captain, I will do my best in your absence.”

  I walked around him, scratching at my overgrown beard as if on inspection. “You know, Mister Jacobs, I could almost swear he’s done this before.”

  Miles looked Carbonale up and down. “Perhaps in another life, Captain?”

  “Gentlemen, I assure you I am fit for duty and taking charge of this vessel will come as no challenge to a man of my obvious capabilities.” Carbonale raised his eyebrows and glanced down at his less-than-military standard attire.

  “You? In command? England would be speaking French or Spanish by now,” Miles said, crossing his arms.

  I could not help but laugh. “Or worse yet, Dutch.”

  “Ye of little faith!” Carbonale shouted and then laughed and scoffed. “You have my word as a gentleman, the Assurance will still be English when you return.”

  “I have no doubt of that, sir,” I said, slapping him on his big chest with a chuckle. “Adam will see to it.” I winked and we all laughed but we knew there was some truth to it.

  We wasted no time in executing our plans as soon as night fell. Having reefed our sails and set adrift, we gave the impression we had no interest in the affairs of the Waiting Lady. Then, by late evening, we sat in the calm waters a mile apart, as two birds of a different feather, floating on the surface of the sea.

  As we approached under darkness in the longboat, Waiting Lady’s lantern lights shined and reflected in the eerie stillness of the water. They glowed as ghostly orbs where the cool sea air met the warm mist above. Emerson and Clarke shipped their oars quietly as I nodded to the men to give the signal to go. Miles, Mitton and Ryan removed their hats and boots and slipped into the water without a splash. I followed in kind.

  The swimming took time, pushing through the water, not as if in a race but with silence and patience. One thing I had learned from Miles was that patience was one of the most important weapons of a marine; another being the element of surprise.

  The Waiting Lady’s captain appeared schooled in securing the safety of his vessel from ambush. There were no stray lines or netting of any type hanging over the sides to give us easy access from below. However, not having the intuition to wonder why another ship was so close by and had made no attempt at so much as a friendly hello was as foolish as weighing anchor so far from the Carolina shoreline. That one means of access that led from the water was all we needed and Miles made quick work of climbing it.

  The rest of us made our way to the portside to wait for Miles to throw us a line. I scanned the de
ck of the ship above as we waited. There was no movement, save for the lone crewman patrolling in the darkness. “Yours, Mitton,” I whispered, pointing out the man as the rope dropped out of the night and nearly hit me across the face. I wasted no time making my way up the side of the ship with the others close behind.

  Once aboard, I waved Miles toward his task of clearing the main deck. As Ryan reached the railing and I spotted Mitton disabling the patrolling guard, I started for the captain’s quarters in the stern. On my way, Miles had gotten ahead of me but the two sailors bleeding out on the deck left an obvious trail showing which direction he was headed. A moment later, I saw him waiting. He was listening at the door of the captain’s quarters.

  Miles was shaking his head and making a lewd gesture at me to signal the going’s-on behind the door. I looked at him in disgust and shook my head as well. I imagined this so-called “captain” was warming himself with a woman and was, in fact, one of those lowly bastards who I had heard tales of in London—a peddler of the young and fairer sex. A thick and sour knot rose up in my throat and burned like hot coals on a fire. If those stories were true, the captain would sometimes take the liberty of choosing a favorite for his bed for the voyage. This night was about to get very cold for him.

  I pressed my back against the bulkhead next to the door and nodded at Miles to release the latch. When I heard the light sound of the click, I threw back my elbow against the door with a bang, blasting it open, followed by my body bursting through into the darkness.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” The man, who I assumed to be the captain, spun his head on his neck towards the door. My head, however, was fixed, as were my eyes, when I realized his new favorite bed-warmer was the opposite of what I thought would be the obvious. My stunned expression stayed plastered on my face as the big man rose to his feet.

  “Look at the size of him,” Miles said in a burst of breath when he crashed into the room behind me.

  “No time for comparisons. I’ll take the captain, you take his playmate.”

  “No, thank you. He’s on your side of the room,” Miles said without a hint of jest.

  The moonlight through the captain’s curtains made our opponents appear as pale, surreal forms of men. The captain was thick and burly and at least my height. Even in the low light, it was clear he had more than fat covering his bones. Miles’s first swing at the man’s head missed its mark and he received a blow to his gut in return for his trouble.

  A blur of white brought me back to my own opponent as he came at me with his head lowered. My feet left the cabin floor as a big shoulder drove into my midsection, slamming me against a door on the opposite end of the cabin. My head snapped back against the wood with a loud thud, sending excruciating shudders of pain through my skull from my previous wound. I pawed at his big back and arms to no avail. I was pinned and still reeling from the strike.

  “Captain!” Miles shouted before a big fist silenced his call. That’s when I heard what sounded like a wailing cat with its tail caught beneath a rocking chair.

  Still struggling to come to my senses, I gathered my hands into one tight fist and pounded my opponent hard on his bare back. Three hammer blows later, I was able to move beneath him enough to gain the force required to land a fourth. At last, the big oaf’s weight lifted from my chest, allowing me to refill my lungs. “Ye bloody rat bastard!” I bellowed, grabbing a handful of his hair and slamming his face down hard against my raised knee repeatedly, before tossing him off…and yet he remained on his feet. As he raised his eyes to me, the blood that had burst forth from his nostrils and ran down his chin onto his ghostly white chest appeared black in the dimly lit cabin. His palms flew to his face, and his eyes widened with shock. The sticky, wet fluid that covered his fingers when he pulled back his hands for inspection enraged him and he went for a chair. I narrowly avoided the heavy object and ducked just out of the way as he smashed it into the bulkhead and then spun at me with an arrogant snarl. I was surprised he didn’t even attempt to avoid my fist, nor did I faze him as I landed a crushing punch to his jaw. Any normal man might have been rendered unconscious by such a thumping, yet he stood. I shook my head and blew a blast of wind from my nostrils as I wondered if he was some sort of demon from hell, or if, for once in my life, I was out-matched. Again, I heard the cat and shifted my eyes from side to side.

  It sank in fast that, either way, I wasn’t taking this mountain down bare-handed, and he was coming at me again. I spun back and reached for the biggest chunk of busted chair I could find and upon his approach I brought it up hard between his thighs, crushing his huge balls, at last dropping him on his face like a fallen tree.

  I moved aside and watched him as he rolled onto his back, clutching his battered groin and wailing in agony. A moment later I tired of it and gave him another whack across his skull, knocking him unconscious. “That aught ta do ye for a while.”

  My victory was short-lived, as Miles plowed into me from behind after he bounced off the powerful fist of the captain. The thick padding of the naked fool was absorbing some of the force of the blows from Miles, but not all of them.

  “A hand here, Gabriel, if it isn’t too much trouble?” Miles grunted as the captain rushed him, knocking him onto the bunk. The two men wrestled a moment, until they spilled onto the floor. The sight of my old friend rolling around with a huge, naked man gave me such a chuckle, I paused a few moments before handing him the broken chair leg to finish the job the same way I had. Finally, I picked out where the damn cat was hiding, or rather appeared to be confined; that barricaded door I’d been rammed into. The poor thing must have been locked in.

  The deed done, Miles tossed the hunk of wood and backed away with his hands on his knees, panting for air. I, however, was holding the back of my head. “I loathe pirates who believe themselves reformed,” I said.

  “You noticed…the ink work…as well?” Miles asked, still searching for breath.

  “Makes me wonder if someone beat us to the prize.” I moved closer to the captain. My eyes were now well-adjusted to the dimness of the cabin but I motioned for Miles to draw back the curtains to allow in more moonlight.

  “Captain George ‘Roly Poly’ Anderson,” Miles said, bending down and moving the man onto his back, exposing his tattooed chest. “A decapitated king. His true name is Bonny Benjamin or rather the name he was called as a pirate. He was a vicious killer who, although well known for his brutality, wasn’t much of a success. I barely recognize the man without his beard and he’s shaved his head. That one over there I’ve never laid eyes on before.”

  “Signal the Assurance,” I said. “We’ll round up the crew and inform them of their misfortune this night and make them the usual offer. Tie these two together and for God’s sake, let’s put some pants on them.”

  Miles raised a questionable brow and twisted his mouth to one side. “This life grows more queer and foul with each passing day. Should we not expose this folly and not regret exposing them…completely?”

  “There’s shame enough in being caught with their pants down whilst not minding their ship. I believe exposing the reason why they had them down is more shame than I’d burden any man with, even my enemies.” I leaned over to retrieve the breeches from Miles’s hand and stumbled forward. The blow to my as yet unhealed wounds had left me unsteady and the pain increased with every turn or dip of my skull.

  “Then what?” Miles asked, groaning his way through the tossed off garments on the floor, searching for another pair of pants.

  “Land. We’ll cast these two off, as well as any others who choose to follow them but for now, I need my bunk.”

  “Agreed. Let’s finish this business of dressing grown men—which, by the way, is piling insult atop our injuries. If I never have to see another man’s cock again for the rest of my life, it will be far too soon. Thank God for Carbonale’s rum. I’m going to need it.”

  I gave no care of rum. My only concern was making it back to the Assurance and resting my hea
d. However, first I had to let that poor animal out of its confinement.

  “Just a minute, Miles. These idiots have locked their cat in this room—hopefully in error.” I walked to the door, lifted the plank of wood that held it shut and pulled it open with a hard yank.

  “I know we’ve been a sea a while, Gabriel but I’ve never seen a cat like this before,” Miles mumbled, as a pair of big, pitiful dark eyes shot up at us, and begged through her binds and gag for mercy.

  Fourteen

  Based on the almost unanimous decision of the crew of the Waiting Lady to stay on, I surmised that their good captain was a less-than-amiable leader. Chambers had a way with choosing captains with questionable morals. Much to my disappointment after having spent the time required redressing the captain and his consort, the crew was well aware of their nightly engagements and appeared surprised that they were carried out in breeches at all. Miles, of course, threw me a look of comical indignation upon this revelation. I had to laugh. I deserved it for putting him through the ordeal of dressing the men for nothing.

  Once we’d tied the Assurance off side-by-side with the Waiting Lady, I was grateful to be shoved off to bed by Miles and Carbonale for a few welcome hours of rest. As I lay in my bunk, I silently prayed that the reinjuring of my head wouldn’t linger and that, by morning, my pain would subside. What good would I be to my men in such a state?

  Thankfully, when I awoke at dawn and sat up, only a small twinge of discomfort awaited me, as well as a fine breakfast, carried into my cabin by Adam. Carbonale and Miles joined me for the meal. Our discussion was welcome, as my first thought after waking with a clear mind was of the fate of our prize and the state of our friendships. There was also the matter of the girl whom I stowed in the vacant sick berth with Adam as her sentinel.

  “What do you think we should name her?” I asked Carbonale.

  “She is quick and well stocked. Lady Agatha comes to mind,” he answered with a wink.