Tarnished Persuasion (Justified Treason, Book 2): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  By agreeing to lead this fen-sucked crew to the gold the governor was after, he assured me he’d do what he could to protect her reputation. Aye, if the world thought she was kidnapped, and then rescued by his hired men, it would be easier forgotten than the truth of her running away from home and falling in love with a damn pirate like me. But I’d never forget the truth. And even though this plan had left her under the care of the man who wanted to marry her, I hoped she wouldn’t forget what we had, either.

  Ah, regardless of what would come between her and I, or what hopes or comforts this plan would rob me of, I’d suffer all just to know she was all right.

  As it was too agonizing to think about the long haul ahead, I tried to think of ways to entertain myself instead. Remembering I had my Bible, I decided upon reading it to pass the time. With my cuffed hands, I dug into my pocket and eventually pulled out the leather bound book. Figuring a good verse about patience might help to calm my stirring nerves, I skimmed through the pages to find one.

  Since it was so hard for me to be still as a child, my father had insisted that I memorize verses about waiting with a calm mind. While his stature was like a rock, solid in his convictions and mannerisms, my spirit was more like the ocean, wild and free. This often frazzled his otherwise even temperament. Snickering to myself about how the greatest test of his patience was most certainly managing the lack of mine, I found myself enjoying the memories that went along with the verses he had pounded into my mind.

  While reading along, my interest was distracted by the sound of the watchman’s call. “Sails off the starboard bow. No flag.”

  Interested in the mention of this ship without a flag, I, along with the rest of the crew, looked out to the southern horizon to take in the sight of the three mast galley sitting quietly on the tide. Before anyone else could tell, I knew it was Wind of Glory. Like the curves of a long time lover’s body, everything from the positioning of her sails to the trim line of her hull enchanted my very soul.

  While I wondered what the hell Flynn was doing so close to the shore he’d just fled, I listened in on the crewmen’s comments as they tried to spy her out. “Do you think it’s a pirate vessel?”

  “It could be Faron Flynn and the commandeered Wind of Glory.”

  “Oh! What if he comes after us? I hear he’s got a plan to cut out Captain Smith’s heart and shove it in a wooden chest to replace the gold he stole from him.”

  “And after Captain Smith killed his men, I reckon Flynn would like to seek his vengeance by killing the lot o’ us.”

  Listening in on their dramatically exaggerated rumors—certain they were making them up on the spot—I hoped that Flynn would sail my beauty in this direction and bring those tales to life. But Wind of Glory didn’t budge.

  Soon enough their barreled-gut captain, Willard Smith, came out to observe the scene. Since none of his men were allowed to have a spyglass, they oh’d and ah’d as he pulled his scope out and gazed upon the distant ship. Once he confirmed that she was indeed Wind of Glory, his men began sharing their fearful thoughts with him.

  Without a care for the valid concerns or thoughtful opinions of his men, that self-righteous oaf hollered at them. “Are you boys frightened by a pathetic old pirate ship? Those bastards escaped with no food and the hold was cleared of ammunition. There can’t be more than five of them on deck, and if that’s the sort of threat that ruffles your feathers, then you might as well swim back home. Now, quit wasting my precious time with your useless bantering.”

  Knowing how he had hid like a hermit crab the last time we attacked him from that very ship, I chuckled to myself about his façade of arrogance. He was a stupid, spineless man, and I fantasized about slapping him across his cowardly face as he wandered back to his cabin. I had no idea what Captain Flynn was up to, but I knew a lack of supplies would hardly slow that man from acquiring anything he put his mind to—and I could only hope he did indeed have mind to raid this bitch I was chained to.

  The possibilities of Flynn’s position kept my mind entertained for a while, but the rest of the afternoon went by slowly, and it was hot. The little bit of shade that kept me cool in the morning had stretched out of range, and now I sat in the sun sweating like a hog. Fighting to keep focused amidst the inebriating delirium swelling in my mind, I slowly sipped on the water and chomped on the shitten biscuits I was given with an ungrateful scowl.

  The only hope I had to keep sane was to watch the clouds roll by. High in the sky, the sun flickered in and out of the scene, and while relishing in the glimpses of shaded relief, I let my imagination sort out shapes and figures in the vibrant puffs of mist. I saw a dragon and a sparrow, a full sail and a tidal wave. The swirling wonder of my vivid imagination reminded me of being young.

  Working alongside my father as far back as I could remember—swabbing and sanding decks, cleaning gun barrels, and hauling cargo—I enjoyed every free moment I had laying aloft in the crow’s nest. Staying up there for as long as I could, I’d take in the sprawling expanse of elements around me. From the puffy white clouds tumbling across the sky to the mysterious darkness dwelling beneath the surface of the sea, I wanted to know how it all worked. While learning to read the tides and the skies, I assured myself I’d grow to be more than just a grimy deckhand. I wanted to be a navigator, and an artist of the sea.

  Becoming lost in my moment communing with the sky, I had nearly forgotten I was a prisoner. The agitating sound of a haggard ol’ cough brought me back to reality. Jack Golding, the helmsmen, sounded like he was going to choke up blood with his chest-heaving hack. As soon as his coughing fit was done, he lit his pipe and told me the smoke soothed his lungs.

  A stout man with a hefty beard, Jack Golding had a jagged scar running down his right cheek and the eye above the wound was glassy without movement. Though his scowl left me wondering if he’d ever smiled in his life, I was pleased to have someone talking to me. After jesting over his comment about the smoke, I asked, “How long have you been sailing, mate?”

  Without looking at me, he exhaled his smoke and grumbled, “Longer than you’ve been living, I reckon.”

  I liked that line. Figuring I’d like to use it myself one day, I nodded at him. “Ah, then I imagine you could tell me a good sea story or two.”

  More than happy to share a few tales, Jack let me know he had sailed with the famed privateer, Henry Morgan. The afternoon passed quickly while we discussed the details of Morgan’s notorious land invasions. Considering Jack’s part in these well strategized attacks, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had ended up sailing for a dastardly coward like Willard Smith. So I asked. Just like everyone else aboard, Jack Golding wanted a piece of The Lovers’ Treasure.

  He had also been to Ile De Amoureux, the island where the treasure was hidden, and he was hungry for the gain he had been so close to. Rubbing his crooked nose, he sniffed. “I could smell the gold behind that locked door, matey. A great deal of it, there was. And not a day has passed that I haven’t longed for the wealth I came so close to.”

  “So what held you back from the retrieval?” I inquired.

  He looked at me with a suspicious glint in his active eye. “There be some tales that can only tell themselves, boy.”

  Thoroughly amused by the old man’s monotone dramatics, I was confident he was on this ride for the prize. He only worked with the citizen’s law because it was in his favor, and if his favor was outside of the law, he’d be just as quick to jump ship. And that is exactly what I intended to do, sooner or later.

  As the sun sank lower in the western sky, a couple of men came to take me to the captain’s quarters. Happy to be free of my dog leash, I blathered on like a jolly ol’ dolt as they escorted me along.

  My mood took a drastic turn when I entered the captain’s cabin. Willard Smith sat at the head of the table, accompanied by two men I had never met, but I couldn’t have cared less about either of them. On the other hand, the sight of that spineless Doctor Reedy caused my eye to twitch
. Worst of all, Paul Redding was there. My heart swarmed with the wrath of a thousand wasps as I laid eyes on the black-spotted, hell-hearted son of a bitch who had beat on my woman while I was locked in jail. Seeing the eyepatch he wore over the eye she had gouged out angered me even more.

  Why here? Why now? I had been dreaming of the day I’d see him again, but my hopes of torturing him before killing him were crushed by the fact that I was chained and terribly outnumbered. My blood heated with fiery rage as I contemplated attacking him anyhow. I hated him like I’d never hated another, and he would eventually suffer under my hand. But not today. Not yet…

  Just as I convinced myself to wait for a better opportunity to inflict the pain he was due, the bastard smirked at me.

  With the memory of him beating on Charlie flashing through my mind, I broke loose from the guards. Free of their hold, I charged at Redding. The guards tried to block me. Before they could get between us, I wrapped the chain of my cuffs around Redding’s neck. I started choking him. Redding gasped for air as I tightened the chain. The surroundings blurred in the haze of my rage. Upon hearing Willard order his men not to shoot me, I felt the butt of a musket crash against my face. The intensity of the ringing pain clouded my vision, causing me to loosen my grip on the man I wanted to kill. Enraged by the painful interruption, I bashed my cuffed hands across one of the guard’s faces. When his mate grabbed me, I hit him, too.

  He shoved me against the bulkhead. The moment I hit the wooden wall, he punched me in the nose. A numbing sensation whirred across my face. I tasted blood. It was flowing from my throbbing nose. Spitting blood on the floor, I roared at Redding, “Not so tough with a man at your throat, eh? You woman-beating son of a bitch.”

  Gasping and choking like a helpless victim, Redding—whose eyepatch was now out of place—didn’t respond to my outburst. Nor did he attempt to dispute when Willard suggested he leave the room. Although his nose was swollen and bloody and it looked like the side of his face would bruise heavily, it still wasn’t enough. As long as he was breathing it would never be enough. “You better sleep with your one eye open, Redding, for I’ll get you one day.”

  He didn’t look in my direction, but he slammed the door upon his exit.

  Taking a deep breath, Willard Smith proceeded to calm the mood in his chamber. The guards who had been cursing me all along—now battered and bloody—were silenced beside me. Doctor Reedy’s eyes were full of fear, the other two men appeared to be frozen in shock, and Willard now had his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

  While attempting to tame my fury, I took note of my appearance in the mirror across the room. My hat had come off sometime during the fight and my hair was all over the place. The welt from the musket blow was throbbing and causing my face to bruise. My nose was swollen from getting punched, and there was blood on my fancy coat. I started to laugh. It didn’t matter how regal my expensive clothing was, I was an untamable beast of a man.

  Shaking his head, Willard huffed, “Good grief, son. You have caused more damage in those cuffs than a free man could with a weapon.”

  I smiled and nodded as if my captor had intended his statement to be a compliment. He did not return the grin. “Mister Bentley, as you know, my current navigator will be guiding us to Una Palma. He has no recollection of this Barren Shore you have marked on your map, so I would like for you to tell us a bit more about where we are headed.”

  Uninterested in talking about the hunt I had agreed to lead them on, I snidely answered, “As far as I know, you’re headed for Hell and I won’t be leading you there.”

  Smug with irritation, he reminded me, “It is in your best interest to cooperate with me, Mister Bentley.”

  “I’m sure it is, but I’m in no mood to cooperate right now, Willard.”

  “Please, call me Captain Smith.”

  “You don’t have enough backbone for me to call you captain.”

  Willard rolled his eyes. I could tell he was utterly frustrated by my attitude, but I was enjoying the advantage I had over him. If he wanted to return to Port Royal with the treasure in hand, he had to keep me appeased. Yet there would be no appeasing me after all that.

  Lowering his face into his hand, Willard exhaled in frustration. “Perhaps we shall try this again tomorrow. I will be sure to keep Mister Redding out of your sight for our next meeting.” Glaring at his guards, Willard commanded, “Please take Mister Bentley back to his post.”

  As the guards escorted me out of the room, I chuckled, “And I was worried today would be boring.”

  X

  Leaning against the mast, I admired the sight of the sun setting over the ocean. The clouds moving across the pink and orange sky seemed to imitate the waves on the shore. I watched the colors fading from red to purple until the sun’s burning firelight slowly vanished into the horizon, leaving a streaming trail of glittering stars glistening in its indigo wake. With my eyes set on the flickering heavens above me, I listened to the soothing sound of the waves gently splashing against the hull. Trapped or not, I found nothing to complain about for the moment. My peace deepened once the sailors retired for the eve, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Feeling at ease, I started thinking about Charlie.

  Though merely thinking of her warmed me up like a shot of rum, I still had a hard time accepting what she had done to me. Prior to the night I met her, my life was on a steady course. I was sailing the seas, fighting for gold, and enjoying women from around the world. Though I’d intended to sail in that manner until I died in battle or was hanged by the law, that little pixie blew in like a storm and changed my heading forevermore. Now, here I was, far away from her, dreaming about her smile, and how the power of her spell had even convinced me it’d be worth waiting like a gentleman to love on her.

  My thoughts of her rambled on and soon I began to wonder where she was. The array of possibilities caused me to panic. I couldn’t stand having her out of my sight. The more I thought about it, the heavier the chains around my ankles became, and the broader the sea between us seemed. To make matters worse, my mind replayed the sound of the governor’s mocking voice, She is safe and well at home with her father and fiancé.

  The truth of the statement burned me raw through. I knew it was better for her. That proper wealthy man could give her what she needed: a nice home, fancy clothing, fine foods, and a world of comfort. While all I had for her was, well…all I had at the moment was the clothes on my back and the Bible in my pocket. That was it.

  Though I knew that other man would be better for her, I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with anyone but me. She was mine, whether it made sense or not, and imagining her with him caused that possessive heat to flare in my heart. Never having a woman as my own before, I had never felt territorial, and my confidence had kept me clear of any form of jealousy. But among the many crazy things that bewitching little vixen had done to my heart, she’d made a jealous man of me as well.

  While laughing at myself for falling under her spell, I heard someone walking in my direction. Standing up against the mast, I readied myself to bash someone’s face with my cuffs again.

  My defensive stance was tamed by the sight of Kasey Bolin sneaking his way over to me. I had learned early on that the freckled-face lad—tall and lean with a strong build—was Willard Smith’s son.

  Without a lick of threat in his pose, Kasey whispered, “Hey, uh, I hear you smashed Paul Redding’s face.”

  The thrill in his voice caused me to chuckle. “That I did.”

  “Oh, good job. It’s about time someone beat on that loggerheaded dolt. I rather enjoyed watching him limp off to cry out of his one eye.”

  While laughing at his comment I debated about how friendly I should get with my captor’s son. Thinking of how Jack Golding had said, The boy’s got more honor in his little finger than ol’ Smith could ever lie about having himself, and considering the fact that I just wanted someone to talk to, I decided to take the risk. “You know, that bastard limps becau
se I put a bullet in his leg, and his eye is patched because my woman gouged it out when he attacked her.”

  Halting his laughter, Kasey’s face hardened with distress. “I’m sorry to hear that, mate. Too bad you didn’t put that bullet in his heart.”

  “Aye, the spineless wretch beat on her while I was behind the bars of the brig. That night I couldn’t help her, but today…well, today he got a little taste of what’s to come.”

  Kasey nodded in approval. “I’d have done the same thing, mate. I don’t like seeing men beat on women. My wretch of a father used to rough up my mother till I started fighting him off. Hell, he treated her so poorly I don’t even like calling him Father.”

  Sitting down near the mast I was chained to, Kasey leaned against a barrel. He seemed comfortable and I saw no reason to doubt his sincerity, so I sat down again. “So, if you hate him, why are you sailing with him?”

  “He’s done nothing but trouble my mother, and this is my chance to get something good out of him, for her.”

  “If you got time to tell the story, I got time to listen.” Shaking my chains, I reminded him I had nowhere to go.

  He laughed at me and carried on with his tale. “My mother, Anna Bolin, is a servant of Willard’s brother, Delbert. Willard used to take advantage of my mother when he’d come to visit. Once she let him know about me, he insisted she was just a dirty ol’ slut who could be carrying anyone’s child and refused to claim me as his own.” His eyes steeled with hatred as he paused. “Delbert treated her like she was nothing but a dirty and troublesome wench thereafter, and he was no kinder to me.

  Not only did Willard allow his brother to treat my mother and me like shit all of my life—knowing damn well that he was my father—he began approaching her in the night again. She would attempt to refuse him and, without saying much else, I’ll tell you that I fully understand why you want to beat on Redding so bad. As a lad, those nights were terrifying, but I promised myself I would defend her as soon as I was strong enough, and it wasn’t long until that time came. Knowing damn well that I could be hanged for the act, I stood up and fought him anyways. That rat bastard quickly learned that he was better off getting his petty pleasures elsewhere.”