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

by Karen Perkins

  Hornigold flushed. “I nearly had him! It wasn’t my fault!” He glared at Erik, but dropped his eyes and quietened almost immediately. No one else spoke and Erik glowered around the table, his point made.

  “Come on, what’s wrong with you all? Eat!

  “Klara? The wine’s running low, fill the jugs. Get on with it.”

  Chapter 2

  I escaped upstairs as soon as the meal was finished and I was no longer required. Lying in bed, I heard the voices below grow louder and more raucous as Erik and his pirates continued to drink. A cheer announced Klara’s entry into the room with more jugs and bottles. I couldn’t bear to think what she had to endure, but I could do nothing for her. I thought again of Wilbert, hanging in his tiny suspended cage, waiting to die, and clenched my fists. I was at the mercy of my husband and could do nothing for the people he tortured. I had to do something. I had to. But for the moment I could only pray. Pray that Erik passed out downstairs and I’d be spared more humiliation tonight.

  If there was a God out there, he wasn’t listening. Eventually, I heard Erik’s tread on the stairs, and Klara’s screams from elsewhere in the house. The door slammed open and Erik staggered in. He was only a vague shape beyond the thin tester curtains that kept the insects from the bed, but it was a shape I knew too well. I tried to keep my breathing even—I knew not to show him my fear.

  He bent down and pulled the pisspot from under the bed, then filled the room with the stench of himself. He could not stand up straight, and his water hit porcelain, rug, bedding—he didn’t notice. Then he was done and pulled the rest of his clothes off.

  Despite my best efforts, my breathing had become faster and shallower. I wanted to run, somewhere, anywhere, but had nowhere to go. The house was surrounded by jungle, and everybody on the island was either in business with my husband or terrified of him. I had to stay with Erik. I flinched when I heard another scream from Klara, and Erik laughed.

  He fell onto the bed, got tangled in the curtains, then found his way through. I was too scared to laugh at his buffoonery. He pulled the cover down, shoved up the nightgown I’d put on to cover myself despite the heat, and climbed on top of me.

  Nothing. He was soft. He’d drunk too much. I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that shot through my body and immediately cursed myself. He’d heard me, and my head slammed to the right with the force of his slap. Then left. Then a punch to the mouth, all accompanied by insults and hate. It was working for him. I wasn’t going to be spared tonight, after all. He grabbed my gown at the neck and lifted me up until I was half sitting, then he closed his fist and punched harder. I tried to scramble away, but his weight pinned me to the bed. My kicks were ineffectual, and he batted my fists away with laughter. He grabbed my throat and he was ready.

  *

  I lay on the bed, hugged my knees to my chest, and waited for daylight, Erik snoring beside me. I had long ago learned to cry silently, and the bolster was soaked with my tears. I had to do something. I had to. Klara’s screams had stopped about the same time as my own. We had to get away from here or he’d kill us both. And we had to get Wilbert out of that cage as well. Somehow.

  Chapter 3

  Erik left the room not long after dawn without looking at me. I wondered if he’d even notice if he killed me one of these nights. Probably not. I looked at the door as it opened, my heart in my mouth, even though I knew it wouldn’t be Erik. Klara came in, eyes to the floor, and I looked away. It was always the same the day after a dinner party; the two of us too ashamed to look at each other.

  She put her load of fresh bedding on the chest and bent to see to the pisspot. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, unable to prevent my cry of pain. Klara was there in a moment and we clung to each other, sobbing.

  “How bad is it?” I asked.

  She looked at me, then brought me a glass and I stared at my reflection. Long, dark, wavy hair; pale skin with those freckles over my nose that I hated; blue eyes. My right eye had blackened and my lip was split; I stretched my neck and could see the marks of my husband’s hand there. I could cover those with silk. The damage to my face would be harder to disguise; I’d have to wear the Spanish mantilla again and hide behind a fan. I looked at Klara more closely; bruises did not show up as starkly on her skin, but they were still there, and I noticed she favored her right arm.

  “Hornigold,” she whispered.

  She wouldn’t tell me what he had done, but she didn’t need to; I could guess well enough.

  “Sit still and close your eye,” she said. I saw she had a bowl of the salve that Belinda made in such large quantities. It had a strange, sickly smell, but soothed the bruises. She applied more to my neck. I took it from her and rubbed some over my arms and legs and attempted to stand. My legs felt sore and weak, but they held. He hadn’t done me serious harm. I looked at Klara as she glanced away, and sighed.

  “Have they gone?”

  “Yes, just after dawn.”

  I nodded. With any luck the pirates would be setting sail and Erik would stay in Eckerstad, the island’s main port a few leagues down the coast. I doubted it was out of shame, but he tended to stay away after nights like the last one. What he did and who with, I didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care. We had some time alone with only his overseer, Rensink, to contend with. He’d been with Erik and his family for most of his life and could be just as brutal, but at least he let us be.

  “Have you seen Wilbert?”

  Klara nodded and started crying again. I walked her to the bed, sat her down, and held her.

  “We have to get away, Klara.”

  “I can’t leave Wilbert or Jan.” Jan was her son.

  “I know. Erik won’t be back tonight. We’ll deal with Rensink, free Wilbert and the four of us will go.”

  “Deal with Rensink?” Klara sounded incredulous. “How? And where would we go?”

  I paused. I’d been thinking about it all night, and it had seemed plausible before dawn; now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Rensink likes his rum, and Belinda has given me a tincture to help me sleep before now. If we combine the two, he’ll be senseless by sundown.” I smiled. “Then we find the keys and set Wilbert free.” It sounded simple when I said it quickly. “Is Jan chained with the rest of the men at night?”

  “Yes, but he’s so thin he can slip the shackles.”

  “Good. We’ll have to find our way to Eckerstad and hope nobody sees us, then we’ll board a ship and just go.” I had another thought. “Oh, we might find that easier if we’re dressed as men.”

  “Board what ship? Most of the ships here are pirates or slavers; I don’t know which is worse.”

  “As long as we avoid Blake and Hornigold, we’ll manage. We have to take the risk. Even if we stowaway on a slaver, we can stay hidden long enough to sneak off when they dock at one of the other islands. You never know, we may be able to free the slaves and take Erik’s ship for ourselves!” I laughed, although I knew it wasn’t funny.

  “What about the others here? We can’t just leave them. Think what Erik will do to them if he comes back and you’re gone. He’ll kill them, never mind that they’re shackled and unable to do anything to stop us.”

  I looked at her. We both knew that a large group would be caught. Four of us would find it hard enough to stay hidden. But she was right; I couldn’t leave those men and women to Erik’s mercy.

  “We’ll loose their shackles and let them find their own way.”

  “And what will your husband do when he recaptures them?”

  I looked at the floor. “We’ll have given them the choice. They can stay if they want, or hide in the jungle—there’s plenty out there.”

  “Belinda?” Klara asked.

  I looked up at her again. Belinda was Erik’s housekeeper and was a large, friendly woman who liked her comfort. I couldn’t see her in the jungle or at sea. She had signed on for five years with her husband, John, as an indentured servant and had been here long before
I’d arrived. John died soon after their arrival in the tropics and Erik had forced her to work his passage off as well as her own, but I didn’t think she really minded. Where else would she go now that John was dead? What else would she do? She got her board and food, and she had come to some sort of understanding with Erik so that he didn’t torment her as he did his other Brisingameners.

  “Belinda will have to take her chances. If she knows nothing, she can’t be held accountable. Maybe we should put something in her rum too?”

  “She’ll never forgive us for not saying goodbye.”

  “Yes she will.”

  “Only if we make it.”

  We stared at each other’s battered faces again. If we didn’t make it, we’d die; we had no choice but to try.

  Chapter 4

  “We’re making good progress with the clearing, Mevrouw van Ecken, although work has slowed down a bit without Wilbert.” Rensink was beginning to slur his words.

  “Shouldn’t you let him out of the cage if the work’s suffering? I’m sure Erik would agree clearing the jungle for more sugarcane is more important than punishing one man.” My spirits soared at the possibility of freeing Wilbert legitimately. “We’re already busy watering and weeding the existing fields, I’m certain I heard my husband saying the new field should have been cleared by now, surely we need all the workers we’ve got?”

  I looked up and smiled at Klara who was pouring Rensink more adulterated rum, but she gave me such a look of pity my heart sank again.

  “He has . . . has . . . warehouses full of them.” Rensink confirmed Klara’s expectations. “He’ll no doubt be bringing more slaves back with him to get the . . . the . . . work done.”

  I nodded. Of course he would. Rensink put his hand to his head.

  “Excuse me, Mevrouw . . . Mevrouw . . . I’m not feeling well.” He tried to get to his feet and stumbled.

  “Oh, Mijnheer Rensink, I hope you’re not sickening for something, the jungle fever is relentless. Of course I excuse you, you must go and lie down.”

  “I can’t, Mevrouw van Ecken. I must deal with the slaves for the night.”

  “I can do that for you, you really don’t look well at all. You must lie down and leave everything to me.”

  “Dank u Mevrouw Ecken, I . . . I think I will.” He gave me his keys, grabbed hold of the rail and made his unsteady way toward his hut. I looked at Klara and heaved a sigh of relief. I’d been worried he’d demand she help him to bed, but he was too fuddled to think of it.

  “Belinda?” I asked.

  “Dead to the world,” Klara replied. “She’ll know nothing until morning and have a most undeserved head, but it can’t be helped.”

  “Does Jan know what to do?”

  “Yes, he’ll wait till the moon’s over the house, then go through Mijnheer Erik’s study window and back out to bring us the keys. He’s a good boy, he won’t let us down.”

  I nodded. At nine years old, Jan was expected to do the work of a man, yet he was always full of energy and laughter. Klara was right to be so proud of him. I looked at the bunch of keys on the table. I had no idea if the key to the cage was on there. We had to make sure we could free Wilbert, which meant Jan still had to take that risk.

  “You might as well sit down, Klara, there’s no one else here to see you. We have to wait to be sure Rensink is too deeply asleep to stir, and hope Erik stays away.”

  We looked at each other. I did not expect Erik back that night, but he enjoyed doing the unexpected purely to catch people out, and I could never be sure of his movements. We could only hope. If he stayed away, we had a chance. If he came home, we’d die.

  “I’ll clear this rum away first.”

  I settled back on the chair and tried to relax. So far everything was going well. Erik was still absent. Rensink and Belinda were asleep and wouldn’t wake before morning. I stared out at the jungle and the road to Eckerstad. Dark and overgrown, I wasn’t looking forward to that walk, but it was the best way. We couldn’t ride; if we met anyone on the way we wouldn’t be able to hide the horses, and Klara wasn’t confident enough in the saddle to survive a chase. On foot, we could dive into the undergrowth until they passed, or even walk through the jungle; we’d have a much better chance of escaping undiscovered.

  I started as Klara came back out onto the veranda wearing hat, shirt and breeches. I’d almost failed to recognize her. I smiled, This might work. She carried the same for me, along with a bottle of wine and two fresh glasses. I took a glass of wine, fiddled with my favorite necklace—a large teardrop of amethyst that Mam had given to me—and stared at the clothing. Are we really going to do this? We can still call it off with no harm done, it isn’t too late. Rensink will assume jungle fever or a bad bottle of rum. Belinda may be a little harder to placate, but she’ll protect us. If I get changed and Erik arrives, he’ll know. Once I put on a man’s clothing, I’m committed to escape and all the perils that entails. Stay or go?

  I downed the wine, picked up the clothing and went inside to change. There really was no other choice.

  Chapter 5

  GABRIELLA

  “Jan, no! Gabriella!”

  I gasped in fear at the panic in Klara’s voice. Erik? Had he come home?

  “Gabriella, hurry, it’s Jan!”

  I rushed back outside, tucking my shirt into my breeches, and saw Jan disappear into the treeline.

  “What’s he doing? I thought you said he knew what to do?”

  “He does, he’s trying to be a hero and rescue Wilbert himself. Oh, the stupid boy!”

  “We have to go after him, come on!” I rushed down the veranda and ran after the child, cursing. There was danger enough in following the plan without this, and chances were that the key we needed was on Rensink’s bunch anyway. We should have known better than to involve Jan; he was too eager to please.

  “Klara!” I shouted. She was still on the veranda, frozen in place with her hands to her mouth. I ran back and grabbed her. “Come on! We have to go now!” I grabbed the knapsack she’d prepared with food and weapons, and dragged her after her son, then stopped at the sound of gunshots and stared at the trees.

  “No.” Klara spoke quietly and sank to her knees. “No.”

  I stared at her. Her son or lover was dead, maybe both, and we hadn’t left the plantation yet.

  “Klara, come on, we have to go,” I urged, tugging on her arm to drag her back to her feet.

  “Wilbert.”

  I turned to see Wilbert stumble out of the trees, followed by one of Erik’s pirates: Sharpe. He raised a pistol in his left hand, took aim and fired. Wilbert and Klara screamed at the same instant, and Wilbert fell to the ground. Sharpe stared at us for a moment, turned and walked back toward the trees. I watched him go in disbelief, unable to comprehend that the man hadn’t stopped us.

  “Klara! Klara! Quick, we have to go now! Stand up!” I pulled at her again as I spoke, and she got to her feet. I hugged her quickly. “He’s letting us go, but if he’s here, Erik won’t be far behind. If we don’t go now, we’ll die too. Come on.” I picked the knapsack back up and led her to the trees, although to a different path than the one Sharpe had taken. We’d have to follow the cliff tops to Eckerstad. We’d be more exposed, but hopefully would miss anyone approaching the house. I had no desire to get lost in the jungle, so it was the only feasible option we had left.

  “Mistress Gabriella?”

  “Hans.” I turned to the man who’d approached from the direction of the slave huts. “Jan and Wilbert are dead. Rensink’s asleep, but Erik will be on his way home. Let everyone know: if anyone wants to make a run for it, this is the night to do it, but they have to hurry!” He looked at me as if I were mad, than saw Wilbert’s body, nodded, and rushed back the way he’d come.

  “Klara, can you walk?” She nodded, took one look back, then ran toward the cliffs and the jungle.

  In daylight it was beautiful here: a riot of every shade of green contrasting with the profuse red tru
mpet flowers of bromeliads and rich with fruit: naseberry, passion, mango, pawpaw and, my favorite, mammee apple; plus the intoxicating perfumes of a myriad of flowers: oleander, hibiscus, begonia. Now the riot of color was dark, the trees guardians of the night. Their foliage protected the land with thorns and spikes, and hid all sorts of creatures I’d rather not think about. It was noisy too—nearly as discordant as during the day, but different sounds, frightening sounds: the scream of a tropicbird, a sudden dashing run of a large lizard away from the noise of our passage, and the ever-present cacophony of tree frogs and crickets. It seemed another world without the sun.

  *

  “What was that?”

  We’d been walking about an hour and had at least another two to go. This was the sixth time Klara had heard a pursuit.

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “There it is again.”

  “It’s an animal.”

  “But what if it isn’t?”

  I looked at her. She was right. We couldn’t afford to lose our caution. I looked around for the best place to hide.

  “In here.” The thickest undergrowth I could see was just ahead, and we forced our way through banana fronds and bromeliad spikes. I settled down and tried to get comfortable. I didn’t know how long it would take for Klara to be ready to start moving again, but I knew I’d have to wait for her. It was a tight fit, and I couldn’t be sure we’d be out of sight if she was right this time.

  I caught my breath. Klara was right. I could hear it too now; it wasn’t an animal, it was the sound of men slashing at the undergrowth, accompanied by orbs of light—lanterns.