The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet - (Books 1-3) Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure

by Karen Perkins

  “What will . . . protection,” she spat the word at me, “cost? What price?”

  I shook my head with a rueful smile. “Did you not hear me out on deck?” I nodded toward the cabin door. “No man aboard this vessel, including myself, will touch you without your permission. Allow it,” I amended at her blank look.

  “You think I’ll give you allow?” She was bolder now it was only the two of us and I smiled in appreciation of her strong spirit.

  “I haven’t asked for it,” I said mildly.

  Her mouth opened, then closed as she found no rejoinder.

  “Sit down, we have a long voyage ahead, you may as well make yourself comfortable.”

  “I prefer stand,” she said, then staggered as Freyja picked up speed and heeled. We were leaving the harbor for the less sheltered River Chagres. “Where going?”

  “Sayba,” I replied, “in the Northern Antilles.”

  “And what there?”

  I sighed and sat on the cot. “I don’t yet know. My uncle captains the other ship you saw, I will transfer us both there at the first opportunity so Captain Hornigold cannot cause us harm. Then I’ll find a way to get you home.”

  “I don’t want,” she said, finally sitting on the chair by the chart table. “No Porto Belo.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Why ever not?”

  She sighed. “Is long story.”

  “As I said, long voyage ahead.”

  She looked at me a moment, then her shoulders slumped. She was badly in need of a friend, and had just come to the realization herself. My heart went out to her, this lost soul, and in that instant she reminded me of myself before Jonesy had found me and rescued me from my folly. My vision clouded as I thought of him. His salvation of me had led to his own death, and I vowed I would honor his memory any way I could; by living well myself, and making sure this slip of a girl came to no harm.

  “Your story?” I prompted, anxious to drag myself away from thoughts of Jonesy.

  She stared at her hands, then looked up at me. “I waited Leo. I thought your sail his, then saw two and heard guns. I knew. No Leo.”

  “Who’s Leo?”

  “Friend. I know him long time, we survive Panama.”

  “Morgan’s attack?”

  She nodded. “His papá y mamá dead. Mi familia bring him Porto Belo. We hate. The stink, the way town go mad with treasure fever then dies, ever year. I die ever year too.”

  I nodded, I could imagine all the hustle and excitement, then . . . nothing.

  “When Leo old, he work for mi papá, sailing. His next sail, he captain, and I be wife, stuck in hellhole, bebés hanging off skirts, dying ever year. No. No live that. So when piratas come—”

  “Privateers,” I corrected.

  “—I no run.”

  “Do you realize what would have happened to you had I not been aboard?”

  She shrugged. “I no think. I just . . . run. I want escape, Aventura. You both.”

  “Come here,” I said, and led her to the gallery of windows. I threw them open and we stood in the fresh air on the small railed ledge over the sea.

  “There. That’s what we have to offer.” I pointed at the remains of Santiago’s Glory and San Jerónimo. “Destruction and death. That’s what these men offer. Yes, there may be adventure, but who will it turn you into?”

  Chapter 23

  When I walked back out onto deck, dusk was already falling and I recognized the shape of the headland ahead. San Felipe de Todo Fierro was not far away.

  “Leave your fancy woman be, Sharpe,” Cheval snapped, and I glared at him. He ignored my stare. “You’re needed in the tops, Little’s already there. Look sharp, Sharpe.” He laughed at his own joke and I headed for the main ratlins to begin my climb. Cheval could wait; for now.

  The mainsail flogged loudly and I flinched. It was strange to climb past the tarred sails, they were all but invisible in the gloom; ghostly wraiths of sail. Last time, they had brought us safely past the heavily defended fort unseen, but these men would know of our attack on Porto Belo; they would not be dozing at their guns tonight.

  I greeted Little as I swung myself onto the maintop platform and picked up a musket.

  “All loaded?” I inquired.

  “Aye, ready and willing,” came the reply.

  I said no more and settled down to await the first shooting opportunity.

  I could only make out Tarr’s ship ahead by the eerie white glow of her wake and remembered the ship he had towed out of Porto Belo harbor.

  “You’ll see,” Little said with a chuckle when I mentioned it. “He’s a wily old bastard, your uncle, don’t do anything without good reason, him.”

  I pursed my lips and decided it was a compliment, then shifted position to get as comfortable as possible.

  With no lights showing, blackened sails, and the crew below working in near silence, there was scarce anything to see or hear. It felt as if Little and I were floating along on one of the Moorish magic carpets I’d heard tell of in stories. Forty feet above the sea; blackness above and darkness below. Then a spark flared ahead and burst into flame.

  “What the blazes?” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and grabbing the mast to peer closely at the phenomenon.

  “Hah. Wily old bastard, told you,” Little said. “Get your gun ready. With any luck, their night sight will be killed by the fireship and it’ll draw all their ball, but you never know.”

  I realized the fireball was the ship Uncle Richard had towed and as it drifted downriver on the tide, it was being pulled closer and closer to the fort.

  I squinted and just made out the Edelweiss as she bore away toward the shore opposite the fort, and felt Freyja cant as she changed course to follow.

  Cannon fired from the fort and a cheer below was quickly hushed by Hornigold. The ruse had worked, they were firing on the decoy.

  I joined Little in mumbling a small, although slightly blasphemous, prayer and kept my eyes on the fort. Little breathed a sigh of relief. “All clear, we’re past.”

  A shout off our larboard bow caught my attention and I peered into the night. Is Edelweiss in trouble?

  “Little! What’s happening?”

  He stopped laughing and squinted toward our sister ship. “Oh bugger, she’s aground.” He dropped his musket, grabbed hold of the backstay and slid down the fifty-foot stretch of hemp to the deck below. I winced; the skin on his hands must be thicker than leather.

  I heard him talk to Hornigold, then our course adjusted back to the middle of the river. “What? No!”

  I took a deep breath, then jumped and caught hold of the backstay as I’d seen Little do, and screamed in pain all the way down to the deck, my hands burning from the rope. I let go a little too early, unable to grip it any longer and fell in a heap, much to Hornigold’s amusement.

  “What are you doing? We’ve got to help them.”

  “Ahh, he’s only touched bottom, he’ll get the boats out, haul himself off and be out of the Chagres in no time.”

  “You don’t know that. His jib is jury-rigged. Go back, Freyja can haul him free.”

  “We’re in the dammed river, Sharpe. There’s no room to tack or wear round. Tarr knows it even if you don’t, blasted land-crab that you are. Edelweiss is on her own, just as Freyja would be had it been the other way round. Now get back up that blasted mast and stay there, we’re sailing blind, I need my sharpest eyes in the tops, and unfortunately that means you.”

  Chapter 24

  “You’re no use to sailor nor ship,” Prince said as he joined me on the maintop. “You’re supposed to be keeping a lookout ahead not astern. Captain’s sent me to relieve you. That woman’s whipping up a storm in t’ cabin, you’ve to set her to rights.”

  “Edelweiss is free of the shore,” I told him. “But she must be damaged, she’s slow.”

  “Tarr’ll be right. He’ll bring ship and crew home safe, don’t fret.”

  I glanced at him with a smile, then remembered the rest
of his message. “What’s Magdalena doing?”

  “Dunno, mate, but it don’t sound good. Best get in there before Captain or Quartermaster beat you to it.”

  “Aye, ta, mate.” My elocution was definitely heading south, and at rapid speed. I glanced at the backstay and grimaced, then noticed Cheval was not on deck. I leaped for the stay and slid, my hands red raw. I jumped through the hatch to the deck below, tucking my poor hands under my armpits, but it didn’t help.

  Making my way aft, I found Little lounging on a barrel before the cabin door. “Little,” I said, wary, “what are you doing?”

  “Oh, Sharpe, thank the Christ, I didn’t know what to do.” He thumped the wooden wall and shouted. I looked at him in puzzlement, then opened the door.

  Cheval had hold of Magdalena’s wrist. It looked like she’d just slapped him. He turned. “Little! I told you to make sure no one—” He broke off when he saw me.

  “My apologies, Quartermaster, I tried, but he overpowered me,” Little said, holding his jaw. Now I understood why he had hit the wall. He glanced at me and dipped his head, urging me toward Cheval and Magdalena.

  “Let go of her.”

  Cheval sneered. “Make me.”

  Magdalena suddenly thrust her knee upwards, catching Cheval between the legs, and wrenched her arm free.

  I stared at her in surprise as Cheval grunted and doubled over in pain. Behind me, Little stifled a laugh and Cheval glared at me. “I’ll teach you to laugh at me, Sharpe, I’ll teach you!”

  He pushed past us and made his way out of the cabin. Little met my eye, looking worried. I held up my hand to forestall his apology.

  “No need to fret, Little. He’s already gunning for me, there’s little sense in both of us having him for an enemy.” I tilted my head toward the door and he nodded, then made his way out. I turned back to Magdalena.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, I didn’t allow.”

  I wanted to reprimand her, I’d had enough problems with Cheval and Hornigold before having this woman aboard under my protection, I didn’t need her making things worse, but I couldn’t help the twitch of my lips.

  Her own twitched in response and I burst out laughing so hard I was bent almost double and had to prop myself up on my knees. All the emotion of the past few days flooded out of me as tears streamed down my face: the tension of the raid, the men I had killed, Jonesy’s death, Uncle Richard aground, and my public disagreements with Cheval and Hornigold.

  Eventually my guffaws died down and I wiped my eyes. Magdalena’s merriment had subsided long before my own and she was looking at me strangely.

  “My apologies, señorita, it has been an eventful two days.”

  “Aventura?”

  “Aye, you could say that.” I looked up at her and the smile on her face, and my heart plummeted. This was only the start.

  PART THREE

  February 1684

  Chapter 25

  Tarr and Edelweiss had caught up with us at Sayba, and I had never been so relieved to see somebody in my life. He was all I had; my only family and my closest friend. Little and Prince had proved to be worthwhile acquaintances, but I wouldn’t call either of them a true friend, neither of them could rival Jonesy. And then there was Magdalena. Ah, Magdalena, what to say of her? Headstrong, beautiful, infuriating, strong-willed, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I spent almost every minute I was not on watch, with her; I had kept her safe aboard Freyja, yet she never let me touch her apart from the odd, supplicating kiss of her hand.

  Tarr had been furious and had wanted to leave her ashore in Sayba. She may have been good company for Gabriella van Ecken, but I could not imagine her presence in that house bringing anything other than hardship for both women. Besides, I was becoming enamored of her. I could not be in Gabriella’s life or make things right for her, but I could for Magdalena.

  After a few months, Magdalena remaining at my side, Tarr had relented, and I transferred to Edelweiss with my prize, leaving the powder keg of jealousy and resentment that Freyja had become.

  As soon as I’d vacated Hornigold’s decks, he’d disappeared. He’d been off our larboard quarter at dusk, and was nowhere to be seen come dawn. Tarr was furious.

  *

  “Sail oh.” My eyes had spotted the prize to the west: a three-master with beautiful lines and a hull low in the water, laden with cargo.

  Tarr held his glass to his eye and beckoned me to join him on deck. I grabbed the backstay and slid down; my palms now as tough as old leather.

  “She’s a beauty,” my uncle said. “I reckon it’s time to trade up, we could do with more room aboard now the crew numbers over a hundred, and it’ll put that bugger Hornigold in his place when he shows his face again. “All hands on deck,” he added at a roar, taking me by surprise. “Ready the guns, prepare for battle!”

  Edelweiss’s decks heaved with purpose as cannon were readied, powder and shot brought up, and a preparatory round of rum downed. Little and I carried Edelweiss’s collection of muskets topside, loaded them and stacked them butt down in a couple of barrels which we then swayed to the tops. I followed the guns to the maintop and helped Little secure them to the mast. I also had large pouches of powder, ball and wadding in case we needed to reload.

  I glanced down and watched my crewmates clear everything bar weapon and line from the decks, then cursed. Magdalena, dressed in a pair of my breeches and shirt appeared on deck.

  “That bleedin’ woman!” Little spluttered. “What in the name of Hell does she think she’s doing?”

  I sighed, noticed Tarr make his way over to her, and slid down to the deck for the second time in less than an hour.

  “—bloody skirt on my deck in battle!” Tarr’s face was cochineal red as he roared at Magdalena. She looked down at herself then back up at Tarr.

  “I see no skirt, Capitán, only willing hands and sharp eye.”

  I landed beside them, grabbed Magdalena and pulled her off to the main hatch before Tarr could retaliate. He looked to be ready to use his fists; or a blade.

  “What the blazes do you think you’re doing? You’re barely tolerated at the best of times aboard this ship, did you really think you’d be welcomed in a battle?”

  “No. That’s lie!”

  “Is it?”

  “Sí. I most welcome from crew.”

  I laughed. “Only the ones who want to explore beneath your skirts.”

  She thrust her hands on her hips and pushed her face up toward mine. “Mierda. That’s all bloody men think, sí? What under skirt. And I know all you blasted well think.”

  I held up my hands in defense, shocked at her command of the vulgarities of the English language. “Watch your mouth, señorita, I’ve never laid a hand on you, or tried to lift your skirts!”

  “No, but you want, why else you keep me?”

  I opened my mouth, but no words were ready. Magdalena raised her eyebrows in a smirk. “Play your game, or your . . . dice, right, and you may get.”

  I reddened with embarrassment. “Have you no shame?”

  “Shame? Me? No. But steady hands and sharp eyes. I no leave Porto Belo to be hide and lock in cabin.”

  I raised my own eyebrows. “You did not choose to leave Porto Belo, señorita, you were taken.”

  “Sí?”

  I looked away from her frank gaze, unsure what to believe. After eight months of her stubborn, wilful, infuriating company, I still did not know what to believe of her. My breath grew heavy as I regarded her, and her look turned triumphant.

  “Go to the cabin. When the fight begins, no one will have a mind as to your whereabouts. But stay on this ship and I want no complaints if you’re hurt.”

  She smiled, rose up to her toes, caressed my cheek with her hand, and planted a small kiss on my lips, then turned and clambered through the hatch and out of sight.

  I sighed and raised my fingers to my lips. I would have to keep a close eye on the decks this day to ensure she was not injured. I smi
led, then winked at Tarr when I caught him watching me. He made a show of shaking his head, but did not hide his mocking smile well enough.

  My heart feeling lighter, even as it beat harder, I climbed back up to my perch.

  Chapter 26

  I took a musket out of the barrel and made myself comfortable. Little and I would not be needed until we were within a cable’s length of the other ship, and I took the time to study her.

  Three-masted, with a hull nearly twice the length of Edelweiss, she had the high, narrow stern that marked her as Spanish. Even to my eye, fairly experienced now (I had finally left the ‘land-crab’ epitaph behind me) but still not as knowledgeable as the men who had spent their entire lives at sea; she looked handy. She didn’t wallow as many of the larger ships did, but danced from wave to wave as she curved peaks either side of her bow.

  Her colors were hauled to her main-masthead and my heart lurched; for a moment I had thought she flew a cross of St George, but no, the red cross was on the diagonal and jagged: the Cross of Burgundy. I smiled at my correct assumption of her nationality.

  I glanced above my head. We flew no colors as of yet. I knew from any number of engagements that Tarr would wait until the last second to frustrate his prey. Unsure whether friend or foe, the prize captain would likely be paying more attention to us than the set of his sails, allowing us to catch up in half the time. But this one seemed canny; he set his topgallant, one of the few I’d seen, and I smiled in further appreciation of the ship ahead. Not many had the balance and the skill to fly three sails from a single mast, and I understood why Tarr wanted her.

  I braced myself against the maintop as Edelweiss changed course from north to west to follow our prey.

  She would be hard to catch, running downwind with all that sail, but we were dead astern. If we could just get closer, and she did look to be heavily laden which would work against her in this race for the lives of all aboard, we could steal the very wind from out her sails and claim our prize.