“Never. In fact, I’ll be happy to remind you of their place the moment we get to shore.”
After the new recruits signed the code, we headed to the deck and happily took to drinking the well-deserved rum we had acquired. With the aroma of Jim Hawke’s cooking drifting through the timbers, and the jolly sounds of song and dance ringing in the night air, we celebrated our win by drinking enough rum and wine to make up for all the time we’d gone without.
X
Sitting across from Sterling at his table—picking at my plate of cold biscuits and gravy—I eyed the page he had open on his rutter. “What are you working on?”
“This map of the Spanish Main.” He scratched under the red sash his wild locks were tied back with. “It looks so small on this here map, but being the tiny speck we are amongst it, we’re going to have to dig up a shitload of information on this Mariposa de Oro afore we go on a blind hunt for her.”
“Don’t we have to find Black James Reid to get that information on her?” I asked, then took a massive gulp of water.
“There’s three problems with that idea,” Sterling said. “First of all, after those windless days, we won’t have time to make it to Reid’s shipyard by the end of the month, so we’ll be missing the opportunity to ask him directly. Secondly, being wanted as I am, I reckon it’s best that we stay as far away from Port Royal as possible anyhow, and lastly, I just plain hate that bastard and would rather take a knife to the neck than ever work with him again.”
Confused by his secretive change of plans, I interrogated him in defense of my crew. “Wait a minute, pirate. We ran that revolt with this mission in mind and our men are working hard under the terms we agreed to. You can’t just go changing those plans without addressing us about what you have in mind. I understand the first two reasons plenty fine, and not a one of the crewmen can argue with the timing delay, but one way or another, we are going to have to find Black James Reid. And when we do, you’re going to have to put aside the petty indifferences you have with the man who holds the key to our retirement.”
“Petty,” he grumbled, and returned to working on the charts in his rutter without looking back at me.
Standing up, I said, “With any luck, we’ll find him in Tortuga. Perhaps he will stop there to gather a crew.”
Without looking up from his map, Sterling mumbled, “Most likely.”
And then a terrible thought came to mind. Pushing the chairs back in place, I gasped, “Do you think Reid hates you as much as you hate him?”
“I don’t know, Charlie. His reasons for chasing me away from my father’s dying body were far beyond me, but the fire burning in his black eyes when he did so assured me there was a good chance he wouldn’t want to work with me either.”
“Oh my, Sterling. What in the world would we do then?” I sighed as I stacked our empty plates. “The crew is counting on this, and they voted you in because you promised them this gold…”
Dropping his quill, he finally looked at me. “I promised them gold, and they will have it. I promised you retirement, and you will get it. Now, if’n you don’t mind, I could focus a lot better on living up to my bloody promises if you’d quit your insistent blathering.”
Annoyed by his attitude, but not enough to go back to my own little bunkroom, I cursed him under my breath and finished cleaning the messy room. Once I had the furniture back in place, the table tops and shelves all dusted, and his clothes stored in his wooden chest, I looked around wondering how I could make the space feel more like home. Comparing the stark wood and plain linens on what was Captain Jezebel Vittore’s side of the room, to the colorful fabrics and eccentric décor in the little room that had belonged to the Zenzebe, the witch she held captive, I made up my mind.
I covered the bed in a deep red blanket trimmed with gold tassels, accented the headboard with throw pillows, and decorated the bed posts with the beads Sterling hated. The curtains were already a lovely shade of red, but I tied them each back with strings of beads. After topping the end tables and shelf tops with colorful cloths, I placed feathers around in various places. Sterling paid me no mind at all until he saw me hanging some of the witch’s red beads on the wall behind his bed.
“No, no, no.” He waved his hand around. “I don’t want that witch shit anywhere near where I sleep.” After eyeing me in disgust, he glanced around at all the other changes I had made. “Shit, Charlie, it looks like a damned fortune teller’s parlor in here.”
Jumping off the stool I was standing on, I walked towards the little table next to the bed and lit some incense. “Now it will smell like one, too.” I chuckled, then bundled up some items to decorate my bunkroom with. “You can go back to ignoring me now.”
PART II
The Devil’s Dungeon
Chapter 4
Damn Ghost Stories
As Told By Charlotte Bentley
“Quarante-cinq, and that’s my final offer. I can’t possibly give you any more than that, Black Rose,” the toothless, French merchant stated with his arms crossed over his scrawny chest.
“All right then.” I grabbed my crate full of miscellaneous merchandise. “I have sold such items for twice as much, and bought them for three times the amount I am asking—”
“You don’t buy things. You are a filthy pirate, and you steal things,” he rudely interrupted.
I rolled my eyes. “I was not born a pirate, Monsieur Bernard. My blood is noble and I once strolled the markets of Port Royal buying whatever I wished without fretting over the lofty costs of such pieces.”
“Pirate qui se trouve,” he snipped.
“You can call me all the names you like, Monsieur, but this lying pirate is running a lucrative trade and I know what my goods are worth. If you are not interested in making a profit, I am certain Señor Ybarra next door will jump at the offer. Good evening, sir.”
Walking away, I heard Mister Bernard say, “Quarante.”
Feeling my lips lift with a sly smile, I faced him once again. “Cinquante.”
“Quarante-cinq.”
“Deal.” I passed him the crate, he handed me the money, and with a shake of hands, Mister Bernard and I agreed to do business together again in the future.
Walking out to the torch lit main street of Tortuga, I found Sterling standing with a group of men I did not recognize. Joining them, I winced at the terrible stench of rum and body odor. I thought about walking away before I let out a gagging sound, but the words that the one-eyed man was slurring at Sterling caught my interest.
“I’m telling you, mate, I saw him clear as day with my one deadlight.” The man pointed at his eye that wasn’t patched over, but it was hardly open either.
“Ah, I don’t even believe that you can see me clearly right now, Eli.” Sterling fanned his hand at the man. “So I sure as shit won’t believe that you saw my dead father in Port Royal. No matter how many times you tell me about it.”
Dead father? My mind piqued with interest.
“Ah, but he looked just like you. Older and bigger, though.” Eli patted Sterling’s shoulder.
“That don’t mean nothing.” Sterling jerked away from him.
Grabbing my arm, Sterling tried to pull me away from the group but Eli followed behind us. “His face was scarred and he was all beat and weak looking. Nothing worthy of the legends told of the notorious Mason Bentley, but it was him, all right. I’m sure of it.”
Before I had a chance to inquire into the subject, Sterling turned around and pushed Eli. “Go tell your damn ghost stories to someone dumb enough to believe your drunk arse.”
No one in the group reacted to Sterling’s angry outburst, but as Eli landed on his arse, he huffed, “That was rude. Next time I see him, I’ll tell him his boy has grown up to be an unruly jackass.”
As Sterling pulled me through the crowd, I replayed the conversation in my mind. That was some interesting crazy talk. It had to be. But, wait…I slapped Sterling’s back. “Hold on.” He didn’t stop. Tugging on his coa
t, I pleaded, “Please, love. Stop and talk with me.”
Yanking his arm away from me, Sterling stopped and stared at me just as disdainfully as he had at Eli. “What the hell do you want?”
Understanding the way he upset so easily over anything concerning his father, I did my best to be kind. “What happened back there, darling?”
“That ol’ drunkard burned me raw through, and he’s lucky I didn’t stab him in the neck. That’s what happened back there,” he snarled.
I rolled my hand, suggesting he tell me more.
Looking annoyed as could be, he spewed out the details. “I was talking to those blokes about joining our crew. When I told them my name, that fat mouth drunk told me there’s a decrepit ol’ Mason Bentley hiding away at The Captain’s Wife in Port Royal. You heard the rest.”
Grabbing his hands, I said, “What if it’s true, Sterling?”
“It’s not. I watched him die.”
“Did you? You said Reid chased you away at sword point. What if your father just passed out?”
He paused, and though I was certain he was second guessing what he saw that dreadful day, he shook his head. “What if, nothing, Charlie. He’s gone. Now, on to things that matter. Did you sell all that shit?”
Completely uninterested in the change of subject, but knowing it would only anger him if I pushed the issue, I forced myself to move on. “I sold every last bit of it. The boar meat, the tobacco, and the trinkets. There’s enough loot for each man to enjoy his stay here rather well.”
With a clap of the hands—like he hadn’t gotten upset at all—he smiled. “Off to a good start, aye? Let’s pay the men and get to enjoying this stay ourselves.”
Though I planned to revisit the mysterious subject of his father, I figured I might as well just drop it for the time being and enjoy the night.
After dividing up the rations and handing out the loot, Sterling and I headed to the nearest tavern. Eyeing the crooked sign hanging over the door, I bumped him with my elbow. “The Devil’s Dungeon, eh? I like the name.”
“Aye. My father’s friend, Billy Barlow, owns the place. Every time it closes down or burns to the ground, he opens it again somewhere else with the same moniker. Same sign even. I wonder if he’s in there now.”
Entering the smoke-filled room, Sterling asked the barmaid if Billy was around. While twirling her curls and swaying her hips, she let him know that Billy was in a meeting. Hearing Seminole Joe call my name, I grabbed Sterling by the arm and yanked him away from the helpful whore. “We can talk to Billy and his slutty little helper, later.”
Joining Seminole Joe, Black Bob, Inappropriate Jon, and some other men I did not recognize, I sat down and drummed my hands on the table. “What are we drinking and who’s buying mine?”
“Ah, you get a higher share than the rest o’ us, Black Rose. You should be getting a round for the whole group.” Inappropriate Jon laughed.
Pulling out a deck of cards, Black Bob passed me a full mug. “How about the lowest hand buys the next round?”
Swallowing a swig of ale, I agreed with a grunt, “I’m in.”
Most of the other men were in for the gamble, but Sterling said, “I reckon I’ll just get to buying our drinks now.”
He waved a server over to order more ale. Though I heard her flirting with him, I was too busy focusing on my cards to care. Remembering the rules of the game as Isaiah showed me years ago, I stared intently at my cards. Plucking out the ones I didn’t want, I tossed them on the table and waited for Black Bob to refill my hand. Suddenly thankful for all the years I had to control my emotions as a proper lady, I easily contained my thrill when I took hold of a winning set. Taking a chug of ale, I waited patiently for the men to show their luck.
Dropping our hands on the table, I was happy to see that I had won the game. Seminole Joe—too busy talking with Sterling to pay enough mind to his cards—would be the one buying our next round of ale. With no further need to control my joy, I hooted out loud, “Now we play for money!”
The men agreed with jolly laughter. As they began laying out their loot, two wenches raced towards Inappropriate Jon. With one pinching at his cheek, and the other grabbing at his collar, they giggled about how they’d missed him—and referred to him as Irresistible Jon. Standing up with a wench under each arm, the master carpenter smiled at us. “I told you that’s what they call me.” Pinching the giggling ladies, he headed down the hall.
With Jon’s chair vacant, a sea-weathered old man approached the empty seat and asked Sterling, “Do you mind if I join you?”
“There’s always room for another.” Sterling invited the man to sit down.
After Black Bob passed him a hand, I continued to listen in as he and Sterling talked. Friendly and inquisitive as Sterling was, it didn’t take long for him to get this man’s story, and when finding he was looking to go on account, Sterling welcomed him aboard.
Knowing we came to town to recruit, I was entirely impressed by Sterling’s casual approach to the chore, but I was far too drunk to engage in any sort of business activities. Slapping him on the back I slurred, “Good job, mate. One for you, but I’ll beat you afore the week is over.”
Looking at me with a sly squint, he challenged, “Does the quartermaster think she can out recruit the captain?”
“Think? Ha! I know this, Bentley. You wait and see.”
He winked at me and took a drink. “I shall not suffer either way, love. Whether you win or I, we’ll be sailing away with a bigger crew.”
Drinking and smoking cigarros, we carried on with many more games of cards. As the pile of loot in the middle increased, so did the swarm of wenches surrounding us. Though I didn’t win every round, my wins were becoming more frequent, and as my own pile increased, a couple of wenches batted their eyelashes at me. A skinny brunette even tried to sit on my lap. By that time I was drunk enough to let her.
“What’s your name, handsome?” She pinched my cheek.
“I usually go by Black Rose,” I rumbled in my manly voice. “But you can just call me handsome.” My crewmen knew I was a woman, but the rest of the world didn’t need to know.
Laughing at my introduction, she served me a sip of my own ale. “How’s it taste, handsome?”
Through the cloud of smoke Black Bob was exhaling, I saw a wench wrap her arms around Sterling from behind. Sliding her hands down his chest, she whispered something in his ear. As he chuckled, I aimed my pistol at her. Without so much as turning my head in her direction, I casually informed her, “Best let go of him, lassie. His wife paid me to be sure he stays true, and her jealous fangs will make the bite of this musket ball look friendly.”
The instant she let go I lowered my gun and smiled. “Be on your way, beauty.”
After I fanned her off, Sterling poked my shoulder and whispered, “Slick. I reckon you can stick those jealous fangs in my neck anytime you like.”
After dramatically biting at him, I gave the wench on my lap a portion of my winnings, then shoved the rest in my duffle. Standing up, I said farewell to my mates. “It’s been fun swabbing you up, but this part of my party is over.”
After saying goodnight to our friends, Sterling and I headed for the door.
The night air was thick with humidity and dank from the moist smells of piss and mold and vomit, but such things bothered me no longer. Pulling Sterling close, I kissed him—almost losing my balance as I did so. Being no better off on his feet, he stumbled with his arms around me. The only reason we didn’t fall was because we crashed into the wall. After we laughed like idiots, he nibbled on my ear. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Wanting nothing more than to rip his clothes off and throw my legs up on his shoulders, I acceded, “I don’t think you have ever had a better idea.”
Hopping up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him hot and sloppily as he carried me up the stairs. Once we reached our room, he pressed me up against the door, continuing to kiss me while fumbling with the key. As soon as th
e door flung open, we fell into the room. He landed on top of me. Without getting up, he kicked the door shut and smashed his lips against mine. As drunk as I was, his kiss was extra warm and the feel of his hands grabbing my buzzing body was too erotic for my clothes to stay on. Unlacing my waistcoat, I panted, “This is in the way.”
Lifting himself above me, he pulled my boots off. “So are these. And all this.” He undid my belt.
As I slipped out of my baldric, he reached back to lock the door.
“Oh, another good idea.” I giggled as I took off my shirt. The moment I was topless, he pulled my breeches off and made his way inside me.
In the dark room all I could see was his silhouette moving over me, but I could feel him in me, on me, and all around me. As always, his drunken sex was rough. My spine burned against the rug as he shoved me around, but I didn’t care. Slapping his arms, I cried out in ecstasy, releasing the pent up feelings I’d been containing on the ship. No longer playing a game of captain and quartermaster at sea, and no longer having to keep our hands to ourselves to avoid stirring up envy among the men, I was free to scream out his name, wildly and loudly.
Wrapping his arm around my neck, he laid his heavy, sweaty body on top of mine and moaned in my ear. “Damn, woman. This gets better every time. You get better every time.”
In full agreement with his statement, I tightened my legs around his waist. “I will never grow weary of your love or your body.” I licked his clean-shaven cheek, then slapped his hard backside. “Nor will I ever get enough of this.”
“Or this?” He thrust his hips hard between my legs.
I sighed, “Never ever.”
X
“That means I am beating you by five.” I playfully punched Sterling’s arm as we walked down the dock.
“Five? No. What about those two I recruited this afternoon? Alfred and Gerald.”
“Pssh, Alfred and Gerald? I included them in my count. But they might have one brain between them, so they could count as one. In fact, we could just call them both Alrald.”
Gunpowder & Gold (Justified Treason, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 5
