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

by Karen Perkins

  “That’s not true.” She stamped her foot in her rage. “Hornigold brought me aboard—I did not make my own way here.”

  “We both know the falsity of that, Magdalena. You said yourself you were looking for adventure, and you thought you could find it here. Well, this is as adventurous as it gets for a woman in the Caribbees—a woman who is not a doxy, at least.”

  She slapped my face and I put a palm to my stinging cheek, then sighed and sat on the bunk, my head in my hands.

  “I have kept you safe from the first day you stepped on Freyja’s deck. Do you have any idea of what would have befallen you had I not been present?”

  She cast her eyes to the floor.

  “The only way I can keep you safe is in this cabin away from Tarr and the rest of them.”

  She sighed and joined me on the cot. “I should never have left Porto Belo.”

  “No, nor betrayed your fiancé.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “What have I done? Oh Mother Mary, what have I done?”

  I put my arm around her and pulled her close as she sobbed and sighed, tears threatening my own eye. I could think of no solution to this predicament.

  September 1685

  Chapter 40

  “Sail oh. Triple-master. Looks a beauty,” Little called from the tops.

  “Where away?” Blake bellowed from the quarterdeck.

  “A deuce of leagues ahead.”

  “Colors?”

  “None.”

  “Clear the decks. Ready the guns.”

  “Blake?” Tarr had joined his quartermaster on deck.

  “Triple-master ahead, Captain.”

  “Merchant?”

  “Don’t know, she’s flying no colors.”

  Tarr frowned. “Well, we’d better see what she’s about then, Blake. But show caution, I want to know what we’re up against.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Everyone on deck held their breath as the ship drew closer. The wind blew amidships to each vessel and this was a test of nerve. We still had no idea who or what the other vessel was, but if we could get close enough before hardening up and taking the wind advantage, she would be ours. Trouble was, we could not make our move too soon; she would be at maximum range of our guns, still bow on and a hard target to hit. Also, a change of course too precipitant would mean presenting a larger target of our own larboard to her and make our stern and steering vulnerable should she be heavily armed.

  “Dammit!” Tarr and Blake cursed together as the other ship headed up to take the weather gage, and finally showed her colors—a square of black silk. Pirates or fellow privateers. Whoever they were, we had a fight on our hands.

  “Bear off, fire when ready,” Tarr bellowed as the ship fired all her starboard cannon at us.

  I ducked as small ball flew above. What’s going on? Why are they firing partridge shot at our rigging? Surely there could be no advantage in taking our ship as opposed to our plunder. Do they really think we would ask for quarter?

  “What are you still doing on the quarterdeck, Sharpe? Get aloft.”

  I nodded to Blake and rushed to the ratlins to begin my swarm. I glanced at the cabin door and breathed a sigh of relief. Magdalena had stayed put. This promised to be a close fight; for once I was glad of Tarr’s edict that she stayed off deck—however fierce the tantrum later.

  *

  I emptied my last musket and had no choice but to reload—there was no room for Billy and his nimble fingers up here with two of us braced on the maintop. I grabbed hold of the mast as Edelweiss rocked with the force of another direct hit and shared a glance with Little. Both ships were taking a lot of damage.

  “Harden up. Harden up, damn you!”

  Our course did not change and I glanced astern at the helmsman shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head.

  I squinted my eye and spotted a longboat just aft; they must have jammed the rudder.

  As I watched, the longboat drew closer again and one of her men stood and hallooed at our stern. My brow furrowed. Why’s he trying to attract attention? Then my heart plummeted. Magdalena.

  I dropped the musket I was loading and leaped for the backstay, ignoring Little’s shout of “Sharpe!”

  I landed hard and ran for the cabin, wrenching the door open just in time to see Magdalena’s skirts as she jumped from the ledge to the waters below.

  “Magdalena! No!” I screamed and rushed to the rail.

  She surfaced, spitting water and flailing to stay afloat. Already, Edelweiss was leaving her behind; even if I jumped myself, I would not reach her in time and would no doubt drown myself. I screamed, “Man overboard,” but no one could hear me over the guns.

  Shots rang out above me and I shouted at them to hold their fire, then called Magdalena’s name again as she was caught in the disturbed water of our wake and pulled under once more.

  A man jumped from our stern and I looked at him, then the transom in surprise. Yes, chocks had been driven in between the rudder and hull. I couldn’t think about that, though, and strained my eye to find Magdalena. I called her name again—she was weakening, her saturated gown heavy. The man reached her, and I thanked the Lord he was a swimmer; probably why he’d been chosen to sabotage our rudder.

  “Hold your blasted fire, damn you!” I shouted as shots continued to rain down, but no one paid heed and I could only stare aghast as Magdalena was hit time and again. She convulsed and the water around her turned pink. She was gone.

  I screamed insults at my crewmates, then shouted again as Uncle Richard fell, his body hitting the rail as he went, nearly taking me with him.

  I had no voice left. No words. No nothing. Everybody who meant something to me was dead. My mother and father, Jonesy, Magdalena, now Tarr. I was on my own.

  I glared at the longboat, trying to make out the features of the men inside. They were hauling Magdalena in, but it was clear she was gone. The man I had noticed standing in the boat earlier looked furious, berating the other men, and suddenly I knew who he was. Leo Santiago; Magdalena’s childhood sweetheart; the man she had run from to look for adventure.

  He lived after all and his attempt at rescuing her had resulted in her death. I swore I would avenge her.

  Chapter 41

  I raced back onto deck. I needed my muskets.

  Chaos reigned; Blake screamed orders, but with Tarr newly dead, not many appeared to realize Blake was now their captain.

  I climbed to the tops quickly, where Little passed me a loaded musket. He gave me a small nod, but didn’t speak. I was grateful, what was there to say? I had just witnessed the murders of my uncle and my lover.

  I focused astern to see Blake bodily hauling a man to the rail before forcing him over. What’s he thinking? The stern was taking a heavy pounding from Santiago’s ship and I realized the fate of the unfortunate sailor when Blake forced another to follow. As brutal as it seemed, I realized Blake was doing the only thing he could to save the ship and crew. Without steerage, we were all dead.

  I turned my attention to the longboat and fired. Short. They were too far away. Still without a word, Little and I reloaded our cache of muskets. Edelweiss was badly damaged. That ship would not just sail away now. This was a fight to the death.

  I dropped the last musket I was loading as a cannon fired and Edelweiss shuddered. The gun clattered to the deck and I saw men scattered on the poop deck; far too many remained still. The stern was in pieces—now mere splinters and shards of wood.

  Blake stood and stared around him, looking lost.

  “We’ve lost the rudder,” I told Little.

  “Aye. And that damned ship’s wearing round to finish the job.”

  I glanced up and saw he was right. It took time for a triple-master to turn, even with the wind, but she had no reason to hurry; we weren’t going anywhere.

  “She’s disengaging. Look, she’s hardening up again!”

  “What?” I shared Little’s confusion and scanned the horizon. “Freyja!
It’s Hornigold!” I bellowed the news to the deck below, and the remaining crew all but slumped to the deck in relief.

  Little and I clasped hands, our mouths stretched wide. For the first time, I was overjoyed to see that scoundrel.

  Chapter 42

  “So what do you have to say for yourselves?”

  Bellies full, the relaxed and somber mood from the dining room broken, Blake, Prince, Hornigold and myself all shifted in our chairs and glanced around the room. No one looked at Erik van Ecken.

  “Tarr is dead. He was the only competent one of the lot of you and you allowed him to be killed.”

  “He was a good captain. A good captain is always to be found in the thick of the fight.”

  “Shut up, Hornigold. I do not know why you are here. You were Morgan’s man, now irrelevant.”

  “Aye, it’s true Morgan has swallowed the anchor . . .” Blake started.

  “Swallowed the anchor? What does that mean? Speak English for God’s sake!”

  Blake took a breath, then tried again. “Morgan is no longer a man of power or influence—in Jamaica or London.”

  “Exactly. He is nothing, an old man living out his days in comfort and boredom,” van Ecken interrupted. “So why is his man here?”

  Blake glanced at Hornigold, who was only containing himself with great difficulty.

  “Hornigold has proved himself. Edelweiss and Freyja work well together. If not for Hornigold, Edelweiss would have been lost and most if not all of her crew with her.”

  Van Ecken grunted. “I have been hearing rumors. Rumors that a certain twinmaster flying a red flag has attacked a number of my ships.”

  “Sailortown is full of rumor, Mijnheer van Ecken,” Hornigold replied. “Gossip is a sailor’s vice, especially when coupled with rum and the dice.” He stared at van Ecken and I could barely believe the audacity of the man. He had no shame when it came to gainsaying.

  “Hmpf. Very well, but if I find out there is any truth to the rumor, you will spend your last days in my cage.”

  Hornigold paled. He had seemingly succeeded in his ploy, but we all knew van Ecken would not hesitate to carry out his threat. We had seen many a man locked in that tiny cage over the years. Unable to move or defend himself as he thirsted and starved to death; his sight taken by birds who did not have the patience to wait for his death before helping themselves to the delicacy; his skin erupting in sores under the unrelenting sun; and tormented by flies.

  The silence stretched out until van Ecken felt he had made his point.

  “How many men were lost?”

  “Twenty seven,” Blake answered. “Twenty seven, all good men and true.”

  “And how do you plan to replace them?”

  “We will reorganize both Edelweissers and Freyjamen to crew both ships as effectively as possible, then force new topmen and gunners from prizes.”

  “And how will you control Hornigold?”

  Blake glanced nervously at his fellow captain, whose face had flushed bright red at van Ecken’s manner. “Hornigold will not cause any problems. He is loyal to me and will sail with Sharpe as his quartermaster.”

  “What? Now wait a minute, Blake . . .”

  I glanced at van Ecken; he appeared amused at Hornigold’s outburst.

  Blake turned to me and raised his eyes to stare at my face. “You are Tarr’s nephew, Sharpe, your presence aboard Edelweiss is disruptive. You sail with Hornigold.”

  I nodded, resigned. I had expected this. Blake did not command the respect Tarr had enjoyed on the deck of Edelweiss. Captains were elected by their crews and many of the crew had passed comment that I should have succeeded my uncle as captain. Blake knew he had to get rid of me before I garnered enough support to challenge him and take his position.

  I was relieved he had chosen this recourse and not sent me overboard during a quiet dog watch.

  “Ahh, poor Sharpe, lost his place, his uncle and his whore. Welcome aboard the Freyja. And you’ll have to be elected quartermaster.”

  Blake quietened Hornigold with, “He will be.”

  “What do you mean? What’s happened to Magdalena?”

  The men fell silent and I gasped. How long had Gabriella been in the room? I stood and walked over to her. She and Magdalena had met on a number of occasions and, although not natural friends, they had got on well. Probably because each was the only woman the other encountered on a regular basis. Apart from the slaves of course.

  “I’m so sorry, Mevrouw van Ecken. I’m afraid she was killed on our last voyage.”

  “No,” she whispered and I caught her as her legs gave way beneath her. “No.”

  “Get your damned filthy hands off my wife, Sharpe. I’ve warned you before.”

  I glanced at van Ecken, sure my contempt for him was clear on my face. He made no move toward his wife and I risked a quick look at Gabriella, pleased to see her small nod before I let her go. She made her unsteady way to a spare seat and van Ecken shouted for Klara, her slave, to tend her.

  I retook my own seat, glancing between husband and wife, hardly daring to think about the reality of her life as this man’s wife. My gaze lingered a moment on her chest and the amethyst that rested there before van Ecken again claimed my attention.

  “You hold far too much interest in my wife than is healthy, Sharpe. You’ll bed Klara tonight—that should take your mind off her, eh?” He slapped the African woman’s behind, hard.

  “You are all guests tonight,” he continued. “I’ll find bed partners for you all. I have more plans to impart to you, but they’ll wait for the morn—and clear heads.” He was joined in his laughter by Hornigold and Prince. Blake did not appear amused.

  I risked a glance at the women. Gabriella looked horrified, and was in danger of losing her battle with tears. She would not look at me. Klara’s gaze was steady: haughty and resigned. I gave her a small smile to reassure her. She did not yet know it, but she would be safer tonight than, no doubt, any other night she had spent in this house. I had already lost everyone I cared about, I would not inflict any suffering on this woman. Her world was cruel enough.

  My gaze flickered back to Gabriella, and I realized I did still have someone I cared about.

  I shuddered anew at the thought of her married to the beast that was Erik van Ecken, and I resolved to do anything I could to improve her lot in life. And if I could take my reckoning on Leo Santiago as well, so much the better.

  * * * * *

  Part 1

  31st May 1683

  Chapter 1

  “What do you think he wants, Mam?”

  “I don’t know, Gabriella.” Mam frowned at me. “Just hear him out and don’t react. You know how he hates it when you answer back.”

  “But he’s never summoned us to work before!” Father was the chief customs officer in charge of all shipping in and out of Massachusetts Bay, and was very proud of his position—nobody could trade in the colony without his consent. He usually forbade us from bothering him at the docks, although that was no hardship—the sheltered water there stank with all the waste thrown overboard from anchored ships, and turned my stomach, although it would be worse in a couple of hours when the sun warmed and rotted the putrid filth.

  “Very well,” I agreed.

  We looked at each other, worried, and Mam reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear, then gave me a nervous smile.

  “Elizabeth!” Father called. I smiled back at Mam; everybody but Father called her Ellie.

  “About time. I want you to meet Mijnheer van Ecken.” He presented the tall, distinguished-looking gentleman standing by his side. Father hadn’t looked at me yet, but this stranger hadn’t taken his eyes off me since our arrival. I looked back at him. He didn’t smile; neither did I.

  “And this—” Father said with a flourish, “is my beloved daughter, Gabriella.”

  I jerked my eyes away from the stranger and stared at Father in shock. He’d never described me as beloved before, never mind introduced me a
s such. I glanced at Mam; her normally rosy cheeks had turned pale. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. What’s happening here?

  “She’ll do.” The stranger, Mr. van Ecken, spoke for the first time, and my eyes darted back to him. He still didn’t smile.

  “John?” Mam asked, warily.

  “Great news, Elizabeth, I’ve procured for our beloved daughter—” that word again “—a most suitable match. Mijnheer van Ecken here is one of the West Indies’ most successful merchants, and his son, Erik, is looking for a bride.”

  Mam gasped and turned paler still. I just stood there. Had Father said bride?

  “You must remember my mentioning Mijnheer van Ecken,” Father continued, oblivious to our reactions. “He’s one of my best customers.” He laughed, slapping Mr. van Ecken on the shoulder. The man attempted a smile, but it failed.

  “He has done us a great service by selecting Gabriella as his son’s bride, and this is the start of a very lucrative partnership between our families.”

  I looked at him and cringed at the delight on his face. I knew I should say something, but nothing came to mind. Bride? West Indies? Married? But I was to marry Peter! We’d been talking about it for ages, Father knew that. My breath hitched in my throat and I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to stop the panting—all of a sudden I found it hard to catch any air. He couldn’t do this. He would not.

  “John, no—” Mam tried.

  “Elizabeth!” Father reprimanded, and Mam said nothing more, just stared at the ground. We both knew he didn’t like to be contradicted, especially in public. Our arguments would have to wait until we were in private, and I shuddered at the thought of the scene to come.

  “Mijnheer van Ecken has been more than generous and Gabriella will want for nothing in her new home in Sayba. She should be pleased.”