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

by Cristi Taijeron

  “Well done,” I complimented the bunch of them.

  Flynn stroked the length of the beard that was now covering his face. “It wasn’t easy, mate. When we reclaimed this ship it was empty as could be. And let me tell you, no food and little ammunition tends to stir dissension in the hearts of men. Starving alongside them, Langston and I did what we could to keep their faith in our plan, and I reckon I’m just as happy to see them eating as they are to be getting fed.” He looked around at the men, chomping on bread and fruit. “I like these dogs. They did good today—especially considering the circumstances.”

  Oliver added, “Surprising as it is, there is no denying the respect these rogues have for their officials. So what will be our heading now that we have gathered our needed supplies?”

  Faron started saying something about Tortuga, but I quickly interrupted him. “Where’s Charlie? She’s my heading.”

  Faron’s expression clouded. “What? What the hell, Bentley? Haven’t you caused that bonny lass enough trouble?”

  Mary’s jaw dropped at the sound of his disapproval.

  “Not nearly enough. I’m going to get her,” I asserted.

  Mary’s smile resumed, which made me feel like an idiot. I could tell Faron was annoyed with me for the same reason I was annoyed with myself, but I insisted, “If you don’t want to take me to her I’ll take one of your dinghy boats and row to Port Royal.”

  Mary sighed like she was listening to a love story, but Faron shook her off his arm. “Go cook that food you were talking about , Mary. I don’t need you over here encouraging this softhearted scallywag’s distracting behavior.”

  Mary glared at Faron before heading off.

  While Oliver laughed about me rowing to Port Royal, Faron snarled, “He isn’t playing, Langston. This swashbuckling loverboy would swim to that sassy piratess if’n he had to. You have never met determination till you sailed with Sterling Bentley, and now that he’s in love, we’ll all be doomed by his damned attachment. Go ahead and get to rowing, Bentley.”

  “You like navigating that much, Captain Flynn?” I knew he detested the work more than anything. Although he hadn’t outright said it, I was certain half the reason he came after the ship I was on was so I could chart his courses again. But he was a stubborn old rock so I was half ready to get to rowing.

  With an expression that belied his answer, he shortly responded, “Navigation’s not that bad.”

  Oliver laughed, “You’re full of horse pucky, Captain Flynn. I think you were less annoyed by starvation than by the chore of charting.”

  Shaking his head in frustration, Faron agitatedly confessed, “All right, Bentley, I hate navigation. I’m glad I know a bit about it, but honestly, I’d rather be holystoning the deck than navigating. That tedious and time consuming shit bores the hell out of me.”

  Feeling a cocky grin lift on my face, I asked, “So where’s my woman?”

  He huffed in defeat, “Mary told me your sweet little strumpet will be heading this way any day now. Her father is sending her, along with her betrothed, to Barbados where he thinks you won’t find her. Ha!” He laughed sarcastically, knowing plenty well that I’d find her. “I knew as soon as you heard that shit, your arse would be off on a mad hunt for her, but I certainly didn’t think I’d be a part of your crazed search. And I’m sure my crew won’t want anything to do with it, either.”

  “Mind you, Flynn, it’s quite likely that Charlie’s father gave that stupid man a ton of loot to look after her, so you’ll be hunting more than my personal prize. And with me charting your course, you’ll be getting there, and everywhere else much quicker from now on.”

  Appearing to be heavy in thought, Flynn hummed out loud. Soon enough he clapped and then rubbed his hands together greedily, “All right, Bentley, I can work with that. In fact, I’m already hearing the speech I’ll give to persuade the vote in your favor, you fawning foot-licker.”

  Oliver looked confused. “So, we’re going after another woman when women are not allowed on the ship?”

  “No. We’re going after a chest of dowry loot.” Faron winked.

  “Good heavens, I just can’t seem to keep up with the swing of things around here.” Oliver exhaled in defeat.

  Faron laughed, “Just drink some rum and it will all come clear, mate.”

  Throwing his skinny arms in the air, Oliver spouted, “So west it is. It really doesn’t matter to me which way we go, because we’re headed for Hell regardless.”

  Completely ignoring Oliver’s rant, Faron stood with his arms crossed and said to me, “We’ll be heading west, but I’ll be taking the helm. As for you, you chum-churning scallywag, get your soft little paws to working on my Jolly Roger. It’s damn past time that we have a flag of our own.”

  “Aye, Captain. What do you have in mind?”

  Pointing at the angry face he was making, he growled, “Something mean.”

  Mean it would be. After Flynn convinced his men that it’d be worth going back for the dowry, I gathered my supplies to paint his flag. Laying out the black fabric, I anchored the edges with my guns and started wondering what I would paint. Hearing Faron running his loud mouth in the background of my thoughts, I found myself inspired by the way he hollered at his men. His pounding voice cracked like thunder and his passion driven animations blazed like a flame of fire burning across the deck. Everything he said and did was with intensity and heat. Aye, there would be fire on the flag I was about to paint.

  As a thick cloud rolled past, blocking the heat of the sun, I started painting a billowing flame breezing off of the right side of the flag. Blending the yellow and red paint with the brush strokes, I smiled as an orange glow showed up between the streaks. Once the flame was dry I added a white death head with two swords crossed behind it. The image made for a rather threatening statement. Like the tattoo on Faron’s back and the fire in his soul.

  When I was done, Shark helped me string the new flag. As the black fabric rose in the wind, I watched the painted fire flap in the breeze. It looked like the flames were following the flow of the wind and the death head looked surly as hell. It was mean, it was volatile, and it was unique. Just like us. Aye, it would only be a matter of time till Captain Faron Flynn’s crew set fire to the seas with a fearsome reputation.

  Chapter 2

  Black Flag

  As Told By Charlotte Wetherby

  A primitive scream shattered the stillness of the night. The shriek was unfamiliar. I hardly knew it as my own. With the weight of the mysterious villain’s bulky body holding me in place, I gasped for air in between my fearsome wails of horror. If the attack itself did not bring me death, the fear engulfing my heart would certainly suffocate me before long.

  Battling to overcome my own torment as well as the wrath of my attacker’s brutal assault, I eventually found the will to defend myself. Yet, aside from all the rage surging in my blood I could not move, no matter how hard I tried. Struggling to break free, my body seemed heavy as an anchor. My arms seemed to be weighted with chains. Soon enough my voice was muffled by the pressure of his filthy hand. With the hellish blaze of firelight illuminating his rancid scowl, he laid his ugly face against my cheek and snarled in my ear. “Pirate slut.”

  Then I woke up.

  Inhaling a wild breath of relief, I shot up in the bed and hit my head on the bunk above me. Shit. Rubbing around the lump that was slowly developing, I thanked God it was only a nightmare. Being awake wasn’t looking much better at the moment, though. The ocean was deathly calm and the night was ghostly silent. It suddenly seemed quite spooky being all alone in that small room, floating over the deep, dark abyss of the sea.

  It crossed my mind to wake Lawrence to keep me company, but considering how he had already left his home to care for me, I decided not to trouble his sleep with the pain I had inflicted upon myself. Oh, what a mess I had made of my life. Though it ached my heart that my father had banished me from his home, my memories of the things that had happened since I ran
away assured me as to the reasons he had chosen this route. I had certainly disgraced his good name.

  As the ship bobbed on the tide, agonizing memories of treason, bloodshed, violence, and pain thrashed in my soul like tidal waves. In the still of the night, terror spun in my mind like a hurricane. Just as I thought the suffocating misery would drown me completely, a salty gust of air blew into the porthole, relieving the sweat of my body and the heat of my panic.

  In the moment of peace, I thought of Sterling.

  Calm as the eye of the storm, he stood in my mind’s eye. Wearing his emerald coat, with the light of my lantern illuminating his handsome face, he smiled beneath the glow of his warm green eyes. I felt his aura pulling me near. Imagining myself collapsing against his chest, I felt his strong, loving arms wrap around me. In his embrace, my accelerated heart rate subsided. My anxiety diminished. The tormenting tide of my worries receded around us. The blackened torrent of violence and bloodshed washed out in the darkened waves, and there we were together, calm and still on the shore.

  Though I knew not where he was, I was certain he would find me, and I couldn’t wait until the day our reunion was no longer just a dream.

  X

  Awaking to the pleasant glow of warm morning sunlight, I hopped out of bed, nearly whacking my head on the top bunk again. Intending to head up to the deck for a breath of fresh air before breakfast, I quickly dressed myself, but when putting my nightgown back in my case, I noticed there was an envelope stashed in the side pocket. Pulling it out, I saw it was from my brother, Isaiah. Father must have slipped it in my case before I left.

  Of my three older brothers, Isaiah was the youngest and my absolute favorite. He had left home almost nine years ago and I hadn’t seen him since, but every so often he would send me letters.

  Isaiah lived in London and worked as a history professor at the University of Oxnard. In the off season, he traveled the world to acquire historic artwork and relics to use for his studies. The freedom of his adventures and knowledge of his findings had always enthralled me, so I couldn’t wait to see what was new in his exciting life. Sitting on the floor, I leaned against the bulkhead and began to read his beautiful handwriting.

  Charlotte, my dear,

  I know it has been far too long since I have written you and I do apologize. I hope this letter finds you well, and with any luck, you will be out traveling the world and Father will have to forward it to you.

  As for my lovely wife, Izella, she and I have just returned from the beautiful island of Zanzibar. As you know, Zella is from Portugal, and for the last two hundred years, the Portuguese have held rein over the island, so we went to visit some of her family there. The island of Zanzibar has been inhabited for thousands of years. Although it has been managed by many different nations over time, as of late, it has been a base for traders voyaging between Arabia, India, and Africa. Exploring the extensive history of the land made for a spectacular adventure, and I returned to my students with great knowledge of a time long past.

  Aside from the beauty of the land itself, I know you would find great favor in the ocean water surrounding the shore. The sheer shades of aqua coat the gleaming white sand much like the Caribbean Sea. The beauty reminded me of home, which of course, made me think of you. Remember when I snuck you down to the beach so I could teach you to swim? I will never forget the way Father came running across the sand to stop us. With his arms flailing and sand flying out from under his footsteps, he ran faster than I had ever seen him move. I do miss that man and his blundering dramatics, and I especially hope you have learned to swim by now.

  Zella scolded me for taking so long to write you, and she sends her best as well. We do plan to make a visit to the Caribbean sometime this year. Though I am certain you have grown to be just as lovely as Mother was, I can hardly wait to see for myself. Wherever you are in the world, and whatever journeys you may have traveled, I hope the best for you, my only sister.

  Remember, your imagination is far too vivid to ever find boredom, and as long as you keep God in your heart you will never be lonely. I love you with all of my heart, Charlotte.

  Love always, your favorite big brother,

  Isaiah Wetherby

  Reeling with excitement, I read the letter one more time, then skimmed over a few of the lines I especially adored. I laughed out loud every time I read about my father storming down the beach after us. Oh, what a scene it was. I remember loving the way the salt water smelled on my soaking wet skin as Father dragged me home. He slapped and snarled at Isaiah all the way up the bank, lecturing him about how the ocean was no place for a young lady. Later, Isaiah told me the adventure was worth the beating.

  I wonder what his wife, Izella, thought about his adventurous spirit. Though I had never met her in person, she always made note of me in Isaiah’s letters and it warmed my heart to know she acknowledged me as her own sister. Isaiah had explained how exotically beautiful she was, and he was sure I would adore her eccentric personality.

  Hardly able to contain my excitement over their mentioned visit, I imagined what it would be like to be friends with Izella, and I wondered what Isaiah would look like after all these years. He was the tallest of my three brothers and was always very handsome when we were young. He looked like my mother, as did I, and he often told me one of the reasons he loved me so much was because I resembled her. I loved the stories he told me about her and always wished I had known her like he did.

  While brushing my hair, I imagined all the things I would tell Isaiah in my return letter. My life was finally exciting! I had an extraordinary adventure to relay, and since my father hardly applauded Isaiah’s choice to marry outside of English descent, I figured he would understand the rationale behind my forbidden love. It was quite devastating to be so madly in love and not be able to express my passion to the world, so I looked forward to finally being able to tell someone.

  No matter how much I enjoyed my time alone with my memories, it was too hot to remain in the bunkroom any longer. Stuffing the precious envelope back in my case, I headed to the galley.

  Finding Lawrence sitting with the others for breakfast, I inhaled the warm smell of cooked meat and went to join them. Lawrence stood up to greet me. As he took me by the hand, he smiled. “Good morning, my dear.”

  Sitting with the group, quietly eating my ham and biscuits, I listened in on the conversations going on around the table. My father arranged for the sail so suddenly that there were only a few traveling civilians who were ready for the brash departure, and I figured they would each have an interesting story to tell.

  Mister Mark Hall, whose white hair surrounded his angry, wrinkled face, complained about the wild slave rebellion that destroyed his estate and cost him his fortune. He cursed the heathen rebels with great disdain and showed no appreciation for the opportunity to start anew at his brother’s plantation on Barbados. I had no interest in speaking with, or even hearing from the cranky old man for the rest of the journey.

  I did, however, find interest in Arthur Hayes. In fact, I was thoroughly amused by the jolly fellow who had lost all his money gambling at the tavern and was fleeing to his wealthy father’s estate for a second chance.

  Finally, at the far end of the table, there was a woman. Kathleen Clarkson’s face was plain and her attire was simple. I was curious as to why she had boarded this ship alone, but she was quiet as a mouse throughout breakfast and left the table after only eating a small portion of her meal.

  As for our story, Lawrence simply told everyone we were off to see my brother and just might call Little England our home if we liked it enough. As much as I appreciated his consideration, it pained my heart to see him take extra measures to protect me, when all I had done was hurt him.

  Once I finished eating I excused myself from the table and headed up to the deck to finally breathe in the salty air I had been longing for. Grey clouds had completely covered the sky, but the sun illuminated the fluffy blanket with a warm glow. Seeing Kathleen sittin
g on a bench, I walked in her direction. I figured it might be irritating to insinuate myself into her company, but with no one else to talk to, I decided to bother her anyway. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  To my surprise she welcomed me with a polite smile. “Oh, please do. I am sorry if I appeared rude this morning. I suddenly felt terribly sick.”

  “Have you sailed before? Maybe you’re seasick.”

  “I was never sick once on the sail to Jamaica, and I am fine now, so I assume it to be related to my worrying. It has happened the last few mornings.”

  Of course I asked her what she had been worrying about.

  After releasing a sigh of despair, she told me, “My husband abandoned me to become a buccaneer. With no family on Jamaica to help me, I decided to take what little money my husband left behind to pay my fare for this sail to Barbados. I am hoping to find my uncle there.”

  Heartbroken by her solitude, I couldn’t help but give her a hug. “I am so sorry to hear this, Kathleen. Lawrence and I will do whatever we can to help see you along once we get to shore.”

  She sniffled as she tried to hold back tears. “That is awfully sweet of you, Charlotte.”

  Patting her hand, I said, “I don’t have many friends, but the love the loyal few have shown me is something I am more than happy to return to the world however I can.”

  We spent the afternoon giggling and gossiping like good friends, but eventually the wind picked up and rain began to fall. Laughing as we held our dresses down in the wind, we headed below for shelter.

  With the weather’s intensity slowly increasing, Lawrence and I spent the evening in the galley. Sitting together at the table, we played card games while enjoying a bottle of wine. He was very silly when he was relaxed, and I found great comfort in his company. The wine had diluted my senses, and once again I found myself terribly attracted to the handsome man who would do anything for me.