My murderous fantasies were interrupted when Captain Flynn patted my back. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face him. Annoyed to see Kennedy at his side, I huffed at Faron, “I think you have grown a wart on your arse, Captain.”
Playfully shoving at my shoulder, Faron said, “Ah, you know you’re the greatest cause of my arse pain, Bentley. Now, back to business. With that second ship being gone, I feel better about taking that dog down. Let’s get to plotting a new course of action.”
Faron threw out a few ideas about how to handle this situation ashore, all of which I found great interest in. But when his arse wart—who just wanted to fight—started chiming in with his overly brutal battle tactics, I interrupted, “This fight will have nothing to do with physical force. That man is a goddamn mastermind and if we make the slightest move off course, he’ll kill my woman.”
After huffing under his breath about how he didn’t give a damn about my woman, Kennedy crossed his arms and jabbed, “So what does the Almighty Bentley have in mind?”
“In fact, the Almighty Bentley might like to beat your freckled face to a bloody pulp. But I have more important things to tend to here.” I turned my back on him and continued with Faron like Kennedy no longer existed. Before long, he walked away.
Once Faron and I had a good idea about how to handle the next step in our plan, I handed off the chart work to Oliver and dragged my tired arse to my bunkroom.
With the door shut behind me, I tore off my damp coat and shirt and threw my exhausted body on the bunk. Listening to the timbers creaking and feeling the hull bobbing over the sea, I took a deep breath. Considering the troublesome thoughts swirling in my mind, I figured sleep would be a while off, but I had not expected Baudin’s reminder of my father’s death to resurrect a long lost nightmare. The terrible heat in the small room surrounded me like the swamping jungles of Panama, and the dusty ray of light that shone in the porthole seemed to fade into the hazy sunlight that lit the scene. My heartbeat increased like I was running through that jungle. Suddenly I saw myself there…hurdling over bushes, sloshing through marshes, my lungs were stretched to their limit and my muscles were raw from the fight, but there was no stopping. The swamping air coated the land and sweat poured from my pores, drenching my body and making me heavier. My weapons were like anchors, and my wounds were like chains.
We made it through the marsh, and somehow managed to swim through the brackish water that reddened with our leaking blood. Some of the men that made it that far were too weak to swim any further, but a great deal of us managed to make it back to the ship. As for me, there was no relief in the reward. There was no escaping the nightmare I’d left behind. We had no captain, we had no quartermaster, and I would never know freedom or peace, ever again…
I sat up in the bunk so fast I almost hit my head. At first I was unsure if I had fallen asleep or if I’d let my waking mind relive that god-awful day, but either way my heart was pounding out of control and my body was covered in sweat. Hot as hell and thirsty as shit, I felt as if I had just survived that bloodbath of a battle for a second time. After wiping the sweat from my face, I took a chug of water and then laid my head in my hands.
As sick as I was over the situation I was in, I was even more disgusted by my own foolishness. I’d been over here losing my mind—tormented by nightmares in my sleep and taunted by reality in my wake—while Charlie was over there playing harpsichord and drinking fine wines. None of it made sense and I knew I wouldn’t be finding sense in my sweaty state of panic and agony.
With the terror of my nightmare still ringing in my mind, I thought about how I hadn’t given much of a shit about anyone or anything since that day in Panama. Ah, the pain of falling for that girl as I had clearly reminded me why. It was nothing but trouble to care about someone. Being committed to anything but my own desire was nothing but a burden. And to have these stupid feelings for someone who clearly did not return them was downright insane.
Chapter 10
Stealth
As Told By Sterling Bentley
Waking up to the familiar sound of a sanding block grinding against a metal blade, I opened my eyes to see what was going on. Surprised to see Shark sitting on the floor of my bunkroom—sharpening his cutlass—I huffed, “What the hell are you doing in here, watching me sleep like a ghastly ol’ ghoul?”
He laughed, “Ah, this ghastly ol’ ghoul has something to say to you and you alone.”
Intrigued by this secretive subject, I sat up and rubbed my sweaty face in my hands. “You’ve got my attention. Have at it.”
Continuing to sharpen his sword, the tattoo covered Mulatto casually said, “What that French whelp said about your father has been gnawing at my mind. The way you’ve been keeping to yourself since he said it leads me to believe its been bothering you, too.”
Not wanting to confess how torn up I was about Baudin’s mention of me failing my father, I sneered, “It doesn’t bother me anymore than anything else that pansy petal French flower has to say.”
“Ah, you aren’t hiding anything, mate. You’re as transparent as a Caribbean bay. Reckon that’s why you always get taken at a game of cards.” Shark chuckled as he shook his head, but his sun weathered old face hardened in expression as he went on. “All foolery aside, I want to clarify that any man who truly knew your father, would know you to be the spitting image of his good character, and though I wasn’t there the day he died, I don’t believe for a second that you failed him.” Looking angry, and offended, Shark slowly dragged his sanding block across his blade, staring at the piece of steel as if he wished he was shoving it through the man who had upset him. “There were many men who knew of your father’s reputation, and plenty who revered him, but I was one of the fortunate few who knew him as a friend. In fact, he was the truest friend I ever had.
You may know this already, but Captain Mason Bentley, he’s the one who set me free from slavery and showed me what it means to be a man. See, I grew up in a small fishing village in Nicaragua. My mother was Spanish, and though I never knew my father, I was well reminded that he was African. Cursed at birth for my mix of blood, I was punished for it most of my miserable life and was sentenced to serve as a galley slave on a Spanish galleon just after turning fifteen.
Only three days into the worst days of my life, the galleon was attacked by Mason Bentley’s buccaneers. I had heard a few tales of the green eyed devil, so I only expected to see more days of abuse, but to my surprise, Bentley let us slaves join his crew. Under his flag, I finally tasted freedom. Aye, them rowdy buccaneers didn’t care that I was Spanish, and they didn’t give a bloody hell that I was African. For the first time in my life I just got to be a man, and as brothers, we took to the seas like we owned them.” He paused for a moment, looking me over as he said, “So listen here, since your father isn’t here no more, I reckon it’s my place—as one of the few who knew him as the man he truly was at heart—to tell you that I know he’d be downright proud of the way you do things.”
Moved by the old man’s serious yarn of words, I struggled to find a response. Scratching my head, I finally mustered the sense to say, “Ah, knowing my father like you did, I’m sure you understand that I could only hope to be half the man he was.”
Putting his sharpened sword in its scabbard, Shark said, “You’re well on your way, boy. Also, I can tell by your determination to get to your woman that your love for that lady is just as fierce as his was for Hannah.”
Though I was uninterested in talking about my stupid love story, I suddenly found myself intrigued by the woman who vanished from my father’s life like a ghost in the night. “Do you know what happened to Hannah?”
“Ah, that is a tale he never shared with me. But I do know that the winds of that woman’s spirit were hard on your father’s soul. When he returned to the sea with you by his side and her nowhere in sight, there was a different air about him. Wherever she went, she took a part of him with her. Yet, no matter how shipwrecked Captain Bentley was af
ter Hurricane Hannah blew through his soul, he sailed on. He ran a fine crew regardless of his pain and raised you to be tough, just like him. So, no matter what that French whelp has to say about the way you do things, I am proud to be sailing with Captain Mason Bentley’s son.”
Standing up, Shark patted me on the back, “Lastly, I know Charlie’s looking to be sweet for Baudin at the moment, but you know as well as I that he’s setting that shit up to anger you. She isn’t safe over there, Bentley. Her place is with you and that gold we are after is ours, not his. So, together, us buccaneers are going to remove Frenchie from the path that will lead you to your woman and us to our gold.”
X
Watching the sunrise from the bow—deep blue water gently splashing against the hull and the colors of morning slowly coating the sky—I found myself talking to God about what was coming next.
Oliver was the first to rise after me, and his agitated cursing shattered the peaceful silence of my attempted prayer. Turning to see what his ridiculous fuss was about, I saw him yank his torn shirt sleeve off of a loose nail. “Blast it all! This bloody wretch of tainted ink will be on display for all my days.”
The bastard had gotten a tattoo. While walking over to get a better look at the arrow inked on the inside of his left forearm, I teased, “So the God-fearing man went and tainted his holy flesh, eh?”
Shaking his head with shame, he exclaimed, “Yes! Yes, I did. One sip of that heathen drink and the most ravenous debaucheries came of it.”
“Ah, it must have been more than a sip to happen upon a beauty like that.” I pointed at his tattoo.
He gave me a dirty look before blustering on with his confessional outburst, “They took me to a heathen den that looked like a harlot house in Singapore. The air was filled with opium smoke and the halls were lined with prostitutes. It was awful, simply awful I must say. I can only pray for repentance and hope the Lord finds it in his heart to keep me clear of the hellfire the rest of you will surely burn in.”
“Ah, I’ll put in a good word for you at the gates, mate.” I patted his back.
Far from pleased with my laughter, he growled into the air as he stormed off. Crossing paths with Faron, he pointed an accusatory finger at him before heading below deck.
“What the hell crawled up his tightly clenched arse?” Faron asked.
“He thinks he’s destined for hell for running with the likes of us.”
Faron laughed, “Ah, Lucifer would get tired of his informative corrections and send him back to God.”
After giving the captain our bearings, I headed on my way to wash up. I shaved my face, combed through my tangled hair, and even let Marty wash my coat. Feeling like a new man, I was geared up to take on Baudin’s taunts when we met in the bay alongside The Barren Shore.
As always, the foppish pirate king met me at the rail singing his ridiculous tune, “Good afternoon, Monsieur Bentley. I do hope your day has been as swell as mine. Of course, the lack in your life has certainly improved the quality of mine.”
Completely ignoring his attempt to annoy me, I got straight to business. “You see that peak at the eastern end of the shore? I’ll be rowing over, hiking that cliff and scouting the course. I’m taking a few men with me and I’ll be back in a couple of hours to let you know how long it’ll be from here. Any questions?”
He hummed, “Well, no questions but I did want to inform you that Charlotte is quite the charm for luck in a game of cards.”
He had her sitting on his lap like a whore. Though I hated the visual, I was able to remain focused on my goal—his death. With my arms crossed over my chest, I simply asked, “Do you have anything else to say to me, Baudin?”
While brushing the shoulder of his gaudy blue coat, he huffed, “No. That is all. Take your time and don’t worry about me. I’ll be well and entertained while you are away.”
Without responding, I walked over to lower my boat.
Pete, Kennedy and Marin joined me for the row. From across the bay I could see that Baudin sent Kasey, Lynden, Gordy, and some other maumet I didn’t know to follow me. The fact that Kasey was going along with them changed my plans in a most favorable light.
Rowing to the small stretch of beach lining the eastern shore, I scanned the setting while plotting the adjustments to my attack. Dark boulders which had fallen off the cliffside stabbed into the white sand of the beach. The eastern face of the shadowed boulders were coated in moss. Remembering the way the water of the high tide would remained trapped between the boulders after the tide subsided—leaving the sand especially moist and mucky—I told the men to bring our boat ashore in that area. As we rowed that way, I let them know what I had in mind.
The moment we pulled the boats onto the sand, I locked eyes with Kasey. He nodded at me, assuring that he’d go along with my plans. Leading the men towards the rocks, I felt my feet sink with every step I took. Listening to the men trudging along behind me, struggling through the mushy sand, I waited until they became busy with their footfalls. When the time was right, I turned to strike. Facing Gordy, I punched him square in the mouth. As he fell over, my other men, including Kasey, surrounded Gordy’s mates. While Lynden cursed Kasey as a black-hearted traitor, Gordy rolled around holding his busted lips. “What the hell was that for, Bentley?”
I kicked him across the side. “That was for talking foul about my woman. Now…”
Just as I was about to address their options, the man I didn’t know pointed at Gordy and chortled, “Ah, he got you good, he did! You fat ol’ worm.”
Spitting out blood in the wet sand, Gordy spat, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Dirty Jim Flint. You’re the one who tried to rape her.”
Rage instantly flooded my mind—redirecting the course of my well planned attack. While Dirty Jim Flint balked about how Gordy had joined in on the attack, I grabbed both of my pistols and shot them both dead.
Surrounded by the guns of my men, Lynden had no opportunity to save his mates. Standing there with his hands up, he said, “Sink me, Bentley! Did you wake up on the wrong side of the hammock?”
Pushing through my men, I grabbed Lynden by the collar. “You’re going to be waking up on the wrong side of Hell if you don’t cooperate.”
Backing him against a boulder, I smashed his body into the dampened moss and pressed my blade against his throat. “I’d like to kill you right now for taking my woman as you did, but to your great fortune I have a better need for your presence.”
Lynden gasped, “What the hell do you want, mate?”
“I’m not your mate, and afore I tell you what I want you’re going to tell me every bit of your pompous captain’s plans.”
Lynden stuttered, “It’s hard to think with that blade on me…”
Pressing the sharpened edge closer to his skin, I hissed through my teeth, “Is this more comfortable?”
Opening his eyes wide, he inhaled, attempting to suck his skin away from the freshly sharpened edge of my sword. “He wants to use this wealth to take pardon and retire in France. He’s going to kill your crew, sink your ship and leave you and Charlotte marooned on the island like the lovers who buried the treasure.”
Wrapping my hand in his hair, I squeezed painfully tight. “So what are you going to do to keep that from happening?”
“What do you want me to do?” He winced.
“I’m the one with the blade, you’re the one answering the questions.” I moved my sword just enough to slice the top layer of skin on his throat.
With a trail of blood dripping down his neck, he shouted, “I will rally a mutiny on your behalf! I will turn my crew in your favor.”
Slightly releasing the pressure, I let my lips lift with a wicked grin. “I like the sound of that. How the hell do I know you’ll follow through?”
Exhaling in great relief, Lynden confessed, “To tell you the truth, me and your friend Billy over there,” he nodded towards Kasey, “Have been talking about our distaste for that flowery captain of ours. He struts aro
und that deck like he’s a damn king and treats his men like filthy peasants—whipping on them like slaves and all. It’ll be easy to turn my crew to your side if’n you let me keep Persuasion and promise them a piece of the prize we’re all after.”
When I paused to review the bargain, Lynden added, “It’s more than fair, Bentley. I want his ship and you want your lady…And mind you, Baudin’s been getting awful close to her. It started off as a game to upset you but just today he mentioned marooning you alone and keeping her as his cabin whore until he abandons her in France.”
Infuriated by his part in the horrendous picture he was painting, I smashed his head against the rock and then punched him across the jaw. As he fell over into the moist sand I kicked him in the face. “And that’s all your fault for taking her from me.”
As he curled up into a ball and covered his shattered nose, I snarled, “Run your damn mutiny and you can have your ship the moment Charlotte’s safe with me. But remember, my Horizon will swim circles around that heavy Persuasion and my guns will sink her before you can aim and fire. If you try to befoul on this agreement, I’ll send you and all your shitfaced friends to The Locker.”
Nodding his busted up head to agree, Lynden asked, “When?”
“You’ll be sure when it’s time. Just mind the night watches until then.” I kicked him in the side once more before I let him stumble to his feet.
He looked dizzy and weak but as he strove for balance he snapped, “I think you broke my nose, you clot-poling cannon fodder.”
“I’ll break a lot more than that if you fail me.” I forced him to walk ahead of us. Watching him stumble up the path, I turned to my men and said, “Sometimes a man needs his face kicked in to remember what’s best for him.”
Kennedy laughed, “Aye. I’m beginning to see why you bastards like this son of a bitch.”
After getting to release the wrathful venom I had been festering, I was able to enjoy the scenery as we trotted through the heavy wet sand. Just across the bay, there was an enormous rock face protruding out of the sea and the rocks on the sea floor shimmered in the sunlight beneath the shallow water. I had been to this island years ago with my father and Kinley, and I remembered the scene rather well. There used to be an enormous archway connecting the bay boulder from the cliffside on the shore, but now the protruding rock faces were only linked by the large pieces of the arch which had fallen into the bay.
Tarnished Persuasion (Justified Treason, Book 2): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 19
