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

by Karen Perkins

  “They must have come this way. They’re not on the road; they’ve not taken any horses and won’t have risked the jungle. She must have come this way.” I shivered at the sound of Erik’s voice. “Find her. I’ll reward well the man who returns my wife to me—no one defies me like this!”

  I wondered what Erik would do if he found me; or what he would do if he did not, and to whom he would do it; but I couldn’t think like that. What about the slaves? Did he realize they’d gone too? Were they safe? Or did he think we were all together?

  Closer. I could see him now through the greenery, still wearing his expensive frockcoat, slashing indiscriminately at the flora with his cane. I shuddered, I couldn’t help myself; I was used to being on the receiving end of that cane. Klara clamped her hand on my arm so tightly I almost cried out. Someone had come to a stop just in front of us. Can he see us? Hear us? Who is it? I felt a kick on the sole of my boot, knocking my foot further into the tangle of green, out of sight of the men. I grabbed hold of Klara and we clutched each other. Her eyes were wide and terrified. I knew my own looked the same.

  “Nothing here!” Sharpe shouted. I gasped. That’s twice he’s helped us, but why? If Erik realized what he was doing, he’d kill him without hesitation. I looked at Klara and squeezed her hand. It didn’t matter why, the fact was we had an ally and he’d already probably saved our lives.

  “They’re here somewhere!” Erik shouted back. “They can’t have got much further, keep going!”

  They were gone; we were safe. Klara’s hand was still painful on my already bruised arm, and I slowly pried her fingers loose. I clamped my hand on her mouth as she sobbed in terror.

  “Shh, shh,” I comforted her, and did my best to get my arm around her and rock her to silence. “They might still hear us. Just a little while longer, Klara, just a little while longer till we’re safe.”

  “Jan!” she sobbed. “I left him there alone.”

  “I know, Klara, I know. You couldn’t do anything else. Try not to think of him or Wilbert, not till we’re safe. We have to get away or it’s all been for nothing!”

  “I don’t care anymore! I don’t care if he kills us, they’re both gone!”

  “You know as well as I do he won’t just kill us, he’ll make us suffer first. Both Wilbert and Jan want you to be free; they died trying to make that happen, Klara. Shh, shh.” I rocked her again despite the discomfort. I could no longer hear Erik or the others.

  “Can you carry on? If we go quietly and slowly we should be safe, they’re ahead of us.”

  “What if they ambush us?”

  “Erik would never believe he’s missed us, he won’t ambush us, he’ll press on ahead to Eckerstad. Anyway, Sharpe’s with them and helping us, he’ll find a way to warn us if we get too close. Are you ready? Let’s go.” I didn’t know if what I’d said was true, and had no idea of Sharpe’s motives, but I had to get her moving again.

  I went first, easing myself out of the vegetation and back onto the path. I held my hand out to help Klara.

  “We should be safe now until we get to Eckerstad.” I wished I felt sure of my words.

  Chapter 6

  GABRIELLA

  We’d been in the jungle all night, and I was exhausted. Yet I was in better shape than Klara. She kept stumbling, and I was worried she’d lost too much tonight and wouldn’t be able to see this through. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t do this alone.

  We’d sneaked past the gun on the cliff and the coconut palms Erik was so proud of without incident—if there’d been any men with the great gun then they had been focused out to sea, not on jungle. At least we had a little light now: the trees were thinning and letting the dawn through. We were close to Eckerstad and would soon be in more danger than we had been in all night. If Erik had decided to stage an ambush or even a simple lookout, it would be coming up. And despite what I had said to Klara, we could not rely on Sharpe. Even if there was no one lying in wait, we would soon be in the open, dressed in men’s clothing, amongst people who knew me. The chances of being discovered were high.

  “Aaargh!”

  I stopped dead at Klara’s cry. What now? The path was not quite wide enough to stand two abreast, but I got as close as I could.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed, and I squinted at the path ahead. A snake, three feet long and darkly colored with red on its belly—a Sayban racer. Was it poisonous? Erik had told me it was, but he loved to exaggerate the dangers of the jungle that surrounded Brisingamen. I did not know how deadly it really was, nor how aggressive, but we could not risk it striking and biting one of us; there would be no help for us if it did have poison in its fangs. We would have to go around it. I sighed and looked into the darkness of the thick undergrowth. The path had been hard enough to walk, I did not relish the prospect of leaving it. I was aware of the increased noise as the birds and tree frogs greeted the dawn. At least their cacophony would drown out any sounds we made.

  “Follow me,” I said, drew my knife and started to clear a way through, thankful that I would not have to do this for long. We would be back on the path after a few feet. I was so tired, I hardly cared any more if we were discovered. I wanted to get out of this jungle; I never wanted to see another tree or vine again.

  *

  The sun had risen over the horizon by the time we were finally free of green, and we had a clear view of our next challenge. Eckerstad was not a large town, but it was sizable enough and centered on the wharf. There were a handful of estates and plantations further inland—none as large as Brisingamen—but most of the houses here were lived in by Erik’s men: merchants and their workers and families. The municipal buildings, where Erik had his offices as governor, lined the cobbled square, but the largest properties hugged the waterfront itself. I knew they warehoused the people Erik stole and sold off all around the Caribbees. There was also a sizable sailortown full of inns, bawdy houses and gambling dens.

  The harbor itself was full of small supply vessels and three seagoing ships. I recognized one as Hornigold’s ship, Freyja, and my heart sank. Of course I knew Sharpe’s presence meant that not all the pirates had sailed, but I had still hoped. I did not recognize the other two, but they both flew the red, white and blue colors of the Netherlands, so I knew they were Erik’s. Were they slavers or did they carry cacao, molasses or rum? I had no way of knowing until we were aboard, by which time it would be too late.

  Which one should we pick anyway? The smaller would probably be easier to board, but the larger would be easier to hide on; although it would have a bigger crew and likely a more competent captain. Or a more brutal one. I did not know. I did not know what to do for the best.

  *

  I looked at Klara and tucked her hair back under her hat, then she did the same for me.

  “Are you ready?”

  She looked as tired as I felt, but smiled and nodded. I hugged her, nearly moved to tears by her shaky smile after the night’s events. We were still on the cliff top, but the ground started to slope down to the town now and we had a choice.

  “Can you swim if we make our way down to the beach?” I asked.

  Klara stared at the stretch of water between the beach below and the harbor. We were both good swimmers—I had taught Klara myself at the small secluded beach below Brisingamen—but it was a long way and we were both shattered. She looked at me, stricken, and whispered, “No, I’m sorry Gabriella, I don’t think I can.”

  I nodded, secretly relieved. I did not think I had the strength left either.

  “Then we have to brazen it out and walk into town. If we keep our heads down, don’t look anybody in the eye and keep to the shadows, we might get away with it. We’ll look for a rowing boat or something.”

  “How are we going to get aboard one of those ships from a rowing boat?”

  I did not answer. I did not know. One thing at a time. We had to get down to the wharf. Then I would think of something.

  Chapter 7

&nb
sp; GABRIELLA

  “Thank you, Klara,” I gasped as I stumbled again and grabbed hold of her. When I’d ventured into Eckerstad in the past, I’d been with my husband, and we’d stuck to the large, rich streets. I’d never visited sailortown before, and was struggling to negotiate the narrow, dirty alleyways littered with loose cobblestones and piled high with casks of God alone knew what. We both had handkerchiefs tied around our mouths and noses—ostensibly to reduce the stench of rotten meat, piss and vomit, but they were essential to hide our faces.

  We tiptoed around a rum-soaked sailor lying face down in the filth, and kept going. I guessed we were almost parallel with the wharf now, but we had to stick to these back alleys as long as possible. Once we ventured onto the waterfront we’d have nowhere to hide, and I’d still not worked out how to get aboard a ship.

  “You! Stop there!”

  Both of us froze, glanced at each other, then ran. I couldn’t see anybody, but the shout had come from behind us. Klara pulled me into a small, dank, stinking alley, then another and another. I lost my sense of where the water lay, but for the moment my only concern was to escape detection. We crouched behind a pile of empty rotting casks and strakes, and tried to control our breathing. I glanced into Klara’s wide staring eyes, and knew I looked just as frightened.

  “They must be here somewhere,” I heard Erik shout. He sounded furious—as angry as I’d ever heard him. I shuddered and grabbed Klara’s hand for reassurance. His voice faded. He’d gone the wrong way.

  *

  “We have to move, or those ships may sail,” I whispered after half an hour of silence. “We have to risk it.”

  Klara nodded. “Just be careful, we’re so close.”

  I took a deep breath and stood up, my cramped muscles complaining, my dagger in my right hand.

  “It’s fine, there’s no one here, come on, we have to do this.”

  We stayed close to the walls, and slowly made our way back out of the labyrinth. I grabbed Klara’s arm; the shadows ahead had moved. Erik? Or Sharpe?

  Two men stepped out in front of us, flintlocks draped around their necks and cutlasses drawn. I looked at the dagger in my hand and realized we didn’t have a chance—even if we’d had any experience of fighting with blades. They came closer. I glanced at Klara; she’d come to the same conclusion.

  I could see their features now in the early morning light and didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t mean anything—I only knew a few of Hornigold’s crew. But these men were definitely sailors—it was obvious from their broad shoulders and rolling walk. Closer. I could see the grins on their faces now. They thought they had us. But did they know who we were? We wore hats, kerchiefs over our faces, loose shirts, breeches and boots. I had a sudden flash of hope. They didn’t know who we were!

  “Follow my lead,” I whispered to Klara. “We can still get out of this!”

  I let them get closer, but I wasn’t scared any more—I had a plan. I needed them close, but not quite close enough to be able to touch or cut us. A little closer.

  “Now!”

  I grabbed my shirt and pulled it up. Klara, bless her, did the same just a fraction of a second later. I’d been right; they hadn’t known who we were, they’d assumed us men.

  “Run!”

  We’d gone before they recovered their wits, and instead of pursuit, all I heard was laughter.

  *

  Our own, slightly hysterical, laughter died away as we burst into the open space of the waterfront. We waited and watched from the shadows for a while. It was busy on the water, and I realized two of the ships were getting ready to sail. We didn’t have much time.

  I looked up the wharf. There were a lot of small craft lading up and rowing or sailing out to the ships with last minute stores. I ran toward one of the larger wherries, knowing Klara would be right behind me, and grabbed a sack of grain, staggering under its weight. I got it onto my shoulder, somehow, and walked onto the boat. Just in time.

  “Cast off.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and sat down with Klara, heads bowed so the crew wouldn’t realize they didn’t know us.

  “You—there’s no time to sit, I don’t care how much rum you squandered last night. Cast off I said!”

  I looked up sharply; the captain was talking to me. I jumped up and moved to the bow and the rope that still tethered us to the wharf, but stopped when I realized who was standing in front of me. One of the men from the alley! He grinned at me, bent, untied the rope from the iron ring and threw it toward me, then doffed his hat, turned and left, still with that mocking smile on his face. I glanced at Klara, then coiled the rope as best I could and re-joined her as the breeze caught the newly hoisted sail and we headed out into the harbor. I watched Eckerstad fall behind, wondering where Erik was. How many of the men I took for wharfmen are actually his, looking for us? No matter, we were on the water. I turned and looked ahead.

  *

  Oh no. Oh no. We were heading directly for Hornigold’s ship. No! After everything we’d done, we were going to be delivered right to my husband’s men. I looked at Klara in despair. We’d have to jump overboard and swim. I stared at the filthy water, full of the debris of sailors at anchor: rotting food and worse—much worse. There was nothing for it; we couldn’t board Hornigold’s ship. I looked toward the other ships; the larger was closest to us. Despite our tiredness, we could make it. They were still loading supplies and had netting slung over their bulwarks, we could get aboard. I steeled myself for the jump.

  “Ready about!”

  What? We were turning—tacking. Oh, thank God, we were sailing toward the large ship. No swimming. I was ready to cry in relief. I couldn’t take much more of this.

  “How are we going to get aboard? How can we hide, Gabriella? What are we going to do now?”

  I took a deep breath and willed my eyes to stay dry. I didn’t quite trust myself to speak, but I had a hold of myself again. I smiled at Klara in what I hoped was reassurance. It was the only answer to her questions I could manage.

  *

  “Up you go, lads, we’ll haul the stuff up, then you help the crew stow it, they’re a bit shorthanded.”

  We bumped against the side of the ship, and I caught hold of the cargo net and started to climb.

  “Get a move on, we haven’t got all day.”

  I tried to speed up, but it was difficult. It was hard to get a foothold on the thin rope, and I scraped my knuckles every time I moved my hands up the hull. I looked down, Klara wasn’t doing much better, but we were nearly there. Luckily, most of the crew’s attention was taken up by the cargo being hoisted aboard, and the only notice I received when I finally clambered onto deck was a shout to carry the sacks to the mainhatch. I helped Klara over the rail, we grabbed a sack each and staggered in the direction the man had pointed. We left our loads with the ones already piled high and slipped down the open hatch. I glanced around before I stepped onto the ladder, but everyone was busy; not only bringing the stores aboard, but hoisting yards and sails. Nobody had eyes for anything except what they were doing.

  Below decks was dark, and stank worse than the alleyways earlier, but we were nearly safe. We paused at the bottom of the ladder to give our eyes a chance to see, and to make sense of the noises. There was the expected sound of water against the hull, the creak of wood and rope—even down here—but a low groaning underlay it all. I heard Klara’s sharp intake of breath and realized: we were aboard a slaver. The smell should have given it away. My eyes slowly got used to the gloom and I saw we were in a large hold, full to bursting with people, all in various states of distress.

  “The men will be further forward,” Klara whispered, and I realized I could only see women. There were basic bunks against each bulkhead—shelves really—with two women shackled together on each. The people in the lower bunks had no room to sit up. More women were shackled in pairs in the center of the hold, and I started to walk through them, careful of where I put my feet, trying to find deck space.
Even at anchor, the floor didn’t stay still, and it wasn’t an easy undertaking: I trod on more than one limb and fell twice. But we had to find somewhere to hide. There had to be a gap we could squeeze into. There had to be some space for us.

  There—bare planking by the large shittenpot. We sat down on the filthy deck, and I wondered how long it would be before I vomited. The air was heavy with the smell of fear and so many unwashed human bodies as well as the pot, and the journey hadn’t begun yet. I felt Klara’s arms around me as she shook—in exhaustion, fear or misery, I didn’t know. I looked around me. What would these women do if they knew I was married to the man who had stolen them?

  Then a new sound; a rhythmic tramping, and the ship lurched. The anchor was being hauled up. There was no going back now.

  Chapter 8

  LEO

  12th July 1683

  Two Leagues North of Porto Belo

  I swung into the ratlins and started my climb up the knotted ladder of rope to the tops, my body moving with the rhythm of the ship as she rolled through the small swell. At last, after six months away, we were nearly home. It was a perfect Caribbean day—bright sun, with a gentle breeze to take the burn off the heat and push us onward.

  After the destruction of Panama City, Magdalena’s parents had found us and given me a home. We’d moved to Porto Belo where Luis now concentrated his business affairs, and he’d welcomed me into his family. I really would be part of the family soon—Magdalena and I were to be married on my return, and I would also be a full partner in the family business—trading cacao, indigo and coffee between New Spain and Old. My next voyage would be as Ship’s Master.

  I would soon have everything I wanted—my childhood friend as my bride, a ship of my own and, in time, a family.