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

by Karen Perkins

  I reached my hand and brushed my fingers against it. It was soft; velvet.

  “It’s an eyepatch. I took a scrap from the inside cuff of your frockcoat so they’ll match. I think you’ll look quite distinguished.”

  “Distinguished? Bah. I’ll look like a blind cripple!”

  “Oh, Madre de Dios. For the love of God, you’re aboard a pirate ship! There’s barely a man on that deck who isn’t missing some part of his anatomy—and not one of them can carry off a patch or a hook or a pegleg the way you can. Now put it on!”

  “Privateer.”

  “What?”

  “Privateer ship, not pirate.”

  “Put. It. On.”

  Her words were issued through gritted teeth and I meekly took the scrap of material from her, the image of Cheval enjoying my plight finally calming me.

  I fumbled with the ties, finding it difficult to guide my fingers until Magdalena took it from me and tied it around my head. Then she lifted my wig into place, made a small adjustment, and nodded.

  “Do you want to see?”

  I didn’t have to be able to focus on her to know the words had been issued with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

  For answer, I turned back to the window and tore down the curtains I had struggled to replace, blinked in the glare a few times and wiped tears from my cheeks. I stared at the moisture on my hand. My lost eye was still crying.

  When I was ready, I turned and took the looking glass Magdalena held out to me. I stared for a while, trying to make sense of the image before me, then the lines and shapes became clear, the fuzziness lifted and I stared into my new face. I looked up at Magdalena and kissed her. “It’ll do until I can fashion a leather one,” I said, paused, then asked, “Prancing and swaggering?”

  “Prancing and swaggering,” she confirmed with a small smile.

  “I’d best do something about that.”

  I crossed to the door, opened it and stepped into the Caribbean sun.

  Chapter 35

  The quarterdeck hushed as I strode onto it, the crews pausing in their tasks to stare. I resisted the urge to put my hand to my face and adjust the velvet eyepatch, and straightened my back instead.

  “Captain.” I greeted Hornigold with a nod. He dipped his own head in acknowledgement but uttered not a word.

  I heard a rustle behind me and knew Magdalena was at my back, and I was grateful she was letting me take the lead in front of the men after her forceful ejection of me from the cabin.

  I continued forward, my eye fixed on Cheval. He had not noticed my reappearance, nor the anxious glances his audience shot my way as the Frenchman doubled up, clutching his face—no doubt re-enacting my “accident” for the benefit of his fellows.

  He fell to the deck in parody then silenced on noticing me. I drew my cutlass and directed it toward his throat.

  “On your feet, Cheval. You and I have a score to reckon. I demand restitution.”

  He scrabbled upright, clumsy but quick, and glanced about him, but his mates had melted back at the glimpse of steel.

  The Frenchman raised his hands as if to ward me off and I gestured for him to raise them further—his left hand was far too close to the hilt of his own cutlass for my liking.

  “It was accident,” he whined. “Accident.”

  I grimaced at the deterioration of his English, something that always marked his play-acting portrayal of a victim.

  “That was no accident, Cheval, and you know it as well as I. I intend to make reparation for the injury you have occasioned.”

  “Reparation? What is reparation? I no understand.”

  “You understand all too well, you scurvy French dog. Reparation—recompense—vengeance—making good a loss. You cost me an eye, I will take both of yours as my price!”

  I made to lunge forward, the tip of my blade mere inches from his face and was halted by Hornigold’s shout of, “Sharpe.”

  I took my time to turn to him, instead smirking at Cheval backing away from me, his blade now drawn.

  “Captain,” I acknowledged.

  “You know the law, Sharpe, you signed the articles. Any grievances to be settled ashore, not aboard. I’m not having the two of you cutting up my decks and rigging while you chase each other round like rats in a barrel.”

  I forced my jaw to relax, then nodded.

  “Very well. A duel, with pistols, ashore. Make for land, Captain, this vessel will not sail smoothly until this is settled.”

  “Ah. What good will you be in a duel? You’ve only the one eye, you’ll not be able to see me, never mind shoot me!”

  I advanced toward him, my blade still threatening. “Even blindfolded I can shoot better than you, dog.” I spat in his face. “Nothing’s wrong with my aim, how’s yours?”

  Silence.

  Slowly, I sheathed my blade, nodded to Hornigold—although I did not miss the expression of alarm on his face—proffered my arm to Magdalena and sauntered back to the cabin.

  “Can you really shoot better blindfolded than he can?”

  “I’ll have to by the time we go ashore, Magdalena, I’ll have to. Fetch me as many pistols as you can find, I have to sharpen my skills before I truly find my aim like this.”

  Her face paled and I squeezed her arm. “That French weasel will not get the better of Henry Sharpe. I promise you that.”

  Chapter 36

  “Land oh.”

  “Henry.” Magdalena shook me awake. “Henry, it’s time.”

  I grunted and rolled over, hoping she would think me still asleep. I stared at the planks of the bulkhead, my eye focusing on the knots in the wood, and considered the day ahead.

  I had spent the past three days in the cabin, throwing empty casks and other jetsam off the stern for target practice. My aim was not true. I was not the man I had once been. I had very little chance of hitting Cheval with lead ball, but even less at beating him by sword. I would not win this duel. Not with only half my sight.

  “Henry,” Magdalena called again, pulling me over to my back.

  “Calm yourself, Magdalena, I’m awake.”

  She looked at me for a moment and my heart missed a beat at the fear I saw in her eyes. “Are you ready?”

  I pulled my face into a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I tried to immerse my words in confidence, but immediately realized I had fooled neither her nor myself.

  “You can do this, Henry. You will win, you have to.” She bent to kiss me and I savored the feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue. This may be the last time I would hold her in my arms.

  I grew aware of wetness on my face and could not tell if the tear was hers or mine. I pulled away from her embrace and climbed out of the cot, my back to her. “This is not goodbye, stop that sniveling. I need all my wits about me this morn.”

  I heard the breath catch in a sob in her throat, but refused to turn or offer her comfort. I pulled on my breeches and tied them around my waist, then pulled a clean shirt over my head.

  I turned to pick up my frockcoat and paused. I thrust my arms into the proffered sleeves and allowed Magdalena to arrange it over my shoulders and fuss with my collar.

  I spun round and pulled her harshly into my arms, burying my face in her hair. This time there was no doubt as to the proprietor of the tears on my cheek. I pulled away and caressed her jaw. “Magdalena . . .”

  “Hush. Tell me once it’s all over.”

  “But—”

  She pressed fingers to my lips and shook her head with a small smile. “I love you, Henry.”

  “And I you.” I drew her close again, then gathered my wits and let go.

  She passed me my eyepatch and wig and I arranged each perfectly before taking a deep breath and letting it whoosh out of me.

  My eye drew back to Magdalena and I opened my mouth to speak but could find no words. She nodded in understanding then motioned toward the door. “It’s time.”

  I raised my hand and clasped hers briefly, then turned and walked out to
the deck.

  *

  Hornigold’s face was almost comical in the speed it fell when he saw me.

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “You seem surprised to see me on deck, Captain. Did you expect me to renege?”

  He recovered his senses. “No one would blame you if you did, Sharpe. No one in his right mind would challenge another to a duel with your particular—misfortune—still so fresh. You would not lose face if you backed out.”

  “I have lost enough of my face to that cove. This duel goes ahead. Where are the boats?”

  “Ashore. They’ll pull back to Freyja shortly.”

  I nodded and walked to the rail to have a look at the sand. I wondered if it was about to become my grave. It looked like any other in this godforsaken sea. Two of Freyja’s three boats were pushing out through the surf. One of them would be my hearse.

  I grew aware of Magdalena standing beside me but she said nothing. Her presence so close was all I needed.

  The first boat bumped against the hull and I finally turned to her. “You stay aboard Freyja.”

  “No. Henry, I want to be with you!”

  “I cannot be distracted and I will not have you witness my death. You stay aboard Freyja.”

  Her mouth opened, closed, opened again before she snapped it shut, gritted her teeth and nodded. I gave her a curt nod in return then made my way to the gate in the rail and climbed down to the boat. Little nodded at me in greeting, but no man spoke and we headed out through the waves to the beach in silence.

  I turned, once, to catch Magdalena’s eye, raised my arm in a wave, then focused my attention ahead.

  Chapter 37

  I waded through the surf, the chatter on the beach diminishing as I approached the huddle of men. A number of them nodded to me or grasped my arm in a show of support. Others looked away.

  I took a deep breath; even the air felt tense. As one, the crew drifted up the beach and formed two lines about twenty yards apart. I took my place at one end of the space left between them and waited for Cheval. No doubt he had a big entrance planned. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin high. No matter what occurred here today, I would meet my death with courage and pride. I could do nothing about the pounding of my heart, so concentrated on my breathing; keeping it measured and deep. I would not show Cheval or any member of this crew an ounce of fear.

  *

  My nerves turned to irritation as the men grew restless. Coin changed hands and their whispers grew loud enough for me to realize that they were not wagering on my death, but on Cheval’s absence.

  I cleared my throat, praying my nerves would not tell in my voice. “Put me down for a sovereign, Little, Cheval’s liver is too yellow for this.”

  “Aye, aye, Quartermaster Sharpe, that I’ll do with pleasure.”

  The men roared with laughter and their formerly rigid line began to blur and disperse.

  I turned to glance at Hornigold. He stood arms akimbo, staring at me, a smirk on his face, and I knew Cheval had gone. I remembered there had only been two boats ferrying the last of the crew ashore; Hornigold had given the third to Cheval. I staggered as my legs trembled and a strong arm checked my stumble.

  “It appears this is your day after all, Sharpe,” Little whispered in my ear before clouting my shoulder. I could only nod in response. Cheval had run.

  *

  “What the Devil’s going on here?”

  I turned in surprise at Tarr’s voice and spotted Edelweiss at anchor near Freyja.

  “And what the Devil’s happened to your eye, boy?”

  I glanced at Hornigold, who had turned pale, his black bushy eyebrows even more out of place against milky skin.

  Tarr rushed at him, fist flying, and knocked him to the sand. What in Hell have you done to my nephew, Hornigold? I’ll have your neck for this.”

  He swung his fist and Hornigold’s nose spurted blood.

  “Captain,” I called. “It was Cheval.”

  Tarr spat onto Hornigold’s bloody face, “Cheval? Nothing that man does is without the approval of this dog.” He pulled his arm back again, only for Blake to catch it. “Captain! Tarr,” he urged, “let him be, he’s the wrong man.”

  Tarr’s physique visibly shrunk and he allowed Blake and Little to pull him away. Hornigold scrambled to his feet, wiping his face with his sleeve.

  “’Twas an accident, Tarr, an unlucky windshift on a dead run.”

  “Hmpf,” Tarr grunted, all he needed to convey his disbelief, and Hornigold cast his eyes to the sand in supplication.

  “Sharpe, get to my boat, we’ll ferry you to Freyja to collect your belongings then transfer back to Edelweiss.”

  I nodded and hurried to the water’s edge with half a dozen men in tow while Tarr turned back to Hornigold.

  “If you cross me again or sail off on your own, I will scour the Carib Sea, sink that blasted tub, and hang you from the yardarm for mutiny.”

  Hornigold remained staring at the sand and did not react; the calm menace in Tarr’s voice having far more impact than his normal rant.

  “The rest of you remember that—if your captain,” he spat the word, “sails off course once more, he will have signed all your death warrants.”

  The men muttered amongst themselves, but none spoke up.

  Tarr leaned into Hornigold again. “Take note of my words, Ed, and heed my orders. If you don’t, you had better pray your crew has some sense and throws you overboard before I kill every last man.”

  Hornigold nodded.

  “What was that, man? Speak up!”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Tarr pressed his lips together, met every eye on the beach, then turned and walked to join me in the boat. I wondered if he realized he had just redeployed Magdalena to his decks.

  August 1685

  Chapter 38

  “Ready the guns.”

  I hurried out of the cabin, Magdalena right behind me, and cast my eyes to larboard then starboard. A Spanish merchantman, fully laden by the looks of her, was down to leeward, hastily erecting boarding nets, whilst Freyja was readying her own guns just off our stern. Hornigold had given us no problems since the debacle on the beach a year ago, and had proved himself a worthy consort—at least for the moment.

  “What the—”

  I took a deep breath at Tarr’s exclamation. I had tried to talk Magdalena out of this, but she could be too damn willful for her own good, never mind mine.

  “Get the hell out of those clothes, woman.”

  “I will not sit by in the cabin through another fight, wondering if their next ball will be coming through my wall.” She stamped her foot to accentuate her words, but Tarr’s color only rose higher.

  “You shouldn’t even be on this ship, woman! You will not be a part of my fight.”

  “She’s an excellent shot, Captain,” I ventured, driven to protect Magdalena from my uncle’s scorn. “She can join Little in the tops, I’m not much good up there now.”

  “The tops? A woman in my rigging? Are you out of your mind, man?” He inflicted the full force of his glare onto Magdalena, thrusting a pointed finger at her with every word. “Get back into that cabin and into a gown!” He turned to me. “And you, Sharpe, get up to that maintop. You’re a damn sight better shot than you think you are—and you’re getting better with every battle.” Back to Magdalena. “Are you still here? Get back to that cabin.” He thrust his arm out so suddenly Magdalena flinched. “Or I’ll heave you overboard myself for your mutiny. See how you get on fighting the sharks.”

  Magdalena turned and fled. I moved to go after her, but Tarr grabbed my arm. “Oh no you don’t, boy. Get aloft!”

  Seething at the “boy”, I nonetheless hurried over to the ratlins to begin my climb. I had seen Magdalena pause at the cabin door; seen the glare of hate; and knew there would be trouble ahead.

  Chapter 39

  “I can’t stay aboard this blasted ship,” Magdalena shouted when I joined her in the cabin after another prize h
ad been successfully taken.

  “That uncle of yours hates me. He demeans me at every turn and would prefer I never left this cabin.”

  I took hold of her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

  “Hush, Magdalena, calm yourself.”

  “Calm myself? How can I be calm? I’m naught but a prisoner on this ship! This is not the adventure I had in mind.”

  I had grown exasperated with her and her arguments. We’d had this discussion many times since we had re-joined Edelweiss.

  “This is a privateer ship—you know well that women are not made welcome aboard, most of the crew share Tarr’s superstition. These men put their very lives in danger every day we’re at sea. If not for Tarr and myself, you’d have been used and thrown overboard or worse for bringing bad fortune to these decks.”

  “What bad fortune? What is it I’ve caused?” Tears of frustration poured down her cheeks.

  “I know well you have done nothing, but every accident, every injury, every problem is laid at your feet. The men need someone to blame for anything that goes wrong.”

  “And that someone is me?”

  “Aye, I’m afraid it is. The safest place for you is in here, out of sight and mind. Many women have met far worse fates on the deck of a ship than sailing in luxury.”

  “Sailing in luxury? You jest, surely? Bare floors, bare walls, a cot for a bed, and a great gun for company! This is hardly luxury, Henry.”

  “So what do you suggest? If you don’t like it, stay ashore next time we make land—maybe you’ll find the adventure you seek there.”

  “But where would we go? What would we do?”

  “We? I made no mention of we. Look at me, Magdalena.” I spread my arms wide, displaying my bloodied shirt and torn breeches. “I’m a sailor now. A one-eyed privateer. Shore holds no sanctuary for me now. My place is here, aboard ship. You are welcome to keep my company, but do not forget, you are here of your own volition.”