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

by Karen Perkins

  “You’re that Spanish pirate,” she said. “The one that killed Tarr! The one that’s angered Erik so much. He wants to kill you, you know, and he won’t rest until he does. Neither will Blake or Hornigold.”

  “We’ll see about that. I plan for them to feel the blade of my sword and the lead of my guns, not the other way round.”

  She hooked her arm through her companion’s. “We’ll do everything we can to help.”

  We? I looked at them both for a moment, then nodded. Two couldn’t be any more trouble than one.

  “Very well, but time now to get aboard.”

  *

  I didn’t have time to prepare a cabin for them until the two ships were separated and we were underway, so they stayed close by me on the quarterdeck, watching everything with interest. They seemed particularly interested in Blackman and Jean-Claude.

  I shouted at Blackman to set sail as soon as we had water between the two vessels, and he marched down the deck shouting orders, whilst Jean-Claude organized the cleaning and stowing of the guns and their dunnage. Gabriella and Klara looked at each other and I had to laugh at the expressions on their faces.

  “Ashore, and in that ship, black men and women weren’t even treated as human, yet here those men look to have authority over white,” Gabriella said in amazement.

  “Aboard pirate ships, everyone is equal. Black stands shoulder-to-shoulder with white. The color of a man’s skin does not dictate his position on these decks,” I said.

  Gabriella looked at her friend and smiled. “So if everyone is equal, does that mean women stand shoulder-to-shoulder with men on your decks?”

  I looked at her in surprise and laughed.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Leo,” Frazer muttered, loud enough for the women to hear, and saving me from having to reply. “The only woman aboard ship should be half-naked, made of wood and nailed to the bow. It’s bad luck to have those two aboard.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Frazer, our luck may have changed.” I smiled.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 29

  GABRIELLA

  10th April 1686

  I’d always loved the water. Virtually a prisoner on my husband’s estate, I’d stare out to the horizon from the cliff tops or my secret beach, thinking of all the possibilities the sea promised; daydreaming of just sailing away, catching the wind and riding it to the ends of the earth. I imagined the distance between me and my ship and the next living person could be so vast, and so unexpected. But I’d seen enough storms to know the sea could turn in an instant. You couldn’t forget her power nor her viciousness. The difference was that her brutality was avoidable; it could be harnessed and managed in a way my husband’s could not. If she did hurt me, at least it wouldn’t be personal, nor out of hate. A sailor’s life was to live on the edge and never be fully in control, never knowing what would come next. Living at sea, I’d be living in the midst of a squall, yet free from the torturous chains of my marriage. I’d be free; both of us would. I looked at Klara and smiled. She didn’t look quite so pleased at our situation.

  “You have the quarterdeck, Frazer, it’s time for me to show these ladies to a cabin,” the Spanish pirate said.

  I recoiled from the Scot’s glare as we walked past him and up the steps to the structure built at the back of the boat and raised above the tiller. I passed through the door the captain held open and held my breath as I brushed past him. My heart jumped as my arm touched his, but I didn’t think he noticed. Once in the cabin, I turned to look at him, but couldn’t think of anything to say. My thoughts had shriveled and hidden with that touch, and I looked at him, sure that he at least would know what to do or say next.

  “If you’ll excuse me, my ship needs my attention. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  He was gone. I stared at the closed door then looked at Klara, and the ship picked up speed. We’d done it, we’d escaped Sayba. At last we were safe from Erik and we smiled at each other. Then I felt the knot of terror in my stomach twist tighter. What had we done? We were two women alone on a ship of pirates.

  I sat on the cot heavily as the reality of our situation sank in. I’d thought that last night with Erik was the lowest point of my life; now I wasn’t so sure. Was this vessel an escape or another prison? Had we swapped a life of constant fear at the hands of one man for a life of constant fear at the hands of a shipful? The captain was a pirate; a violent and brutal man who spread fear wherever he and his crew of cut-throats sailed. What did he plan to do with us? Had he rescued us from that slaveship, or taken us hostage himself? We were sailing away from Erik, true, but toward what? What did Captain Santiago want from us?

  My heart had missed a beat when I’d looked into his eyes in that slaver’s cabin, and I’d thought he had the same reaction to me. What if I’d been mistaken, desperate for a way out? If he’d truly taken us with him out of some deep, if brief, connection, we’d probably be safe, but what if he hadn’t? What if it had just been the imaginings of a lonely, trapped woman? What if he’d taken us to use as pawns against Erik? To amuse himself, or worse, his crew? What did he expect from us?

  I looked around me; at least the cabin was nice enough for a pirate’s cabin, not that we had much to compare it to. It had its drawbacks, the most apparent being the very low ceiling—the deckhead—which forced us to stoop. We had to brace ourselves against it and the floor, which moved so much beneath our feet we struggled to stay upright, and were forever grabbing hold of each other to keep our balance. It had all the essentials crammed into it, though: a cot suspended from the deckhead on chains; a small chair; table; even a forbidding black iron cannon, which I viewed with mixed feelings—is this the symbol of our new life? Once I could look past the great gun and its rack of iron balls, I saw a number of interesting ornaments: jewelry; a rich chalice; a carved orb of gold; a wonderful gold facemask with emeralds for eyes—stolen over the years I presumed. Klara and I amused ourselves over the coming nights by making up stories of their origin and how they came to be here, with us. I wondered if we were the same—more ornaments for his collection.

  *

  Eventually, there was a knock at the door. I jumped and looked at Klara, who came and sat next to me on the cot, but I said nothing—suddenly I wasn’t so eager to know the answers to my questions. He knocked again and opened the door. He was a powerful man, and seemed taller in the small space than he had outside, but it was obvious that his bulk was muscle. He moved like a man completely at home in his own skin, with an easy yet undoubtable self-confidence.

  He held up a hand, recognizing our fear, and sat on the chair opposite. “You’re in no danger from me. No one will hurt you—you’re guests here, not prisoners. I spoke true when I said the only fare due aboard this ship is a sailor’s, and you’re both free to come and go as you wish; my crew have been instructed not to harm you. That said, I advise you to be careful all the same. Don’t put yourselves in a situation where you’re alone with someone, other than me of course.” He smiled.

  “Most are good men at heart, but are inclined to be somewhat impulsive, and they haven’t been this close to women for some time. Here, take these keys for the door and keep it locked.

  “Now sleep, it’s been a long day. Come up on deck in the morning, and I’ll show you around the ship.”

  “What’s she called?” I asked.

  “Qué?”

  “What’s she called? The boat.”

  “Ship,” he corrected with a smile. “Sound of Freedom.”

  “Sound of Freedom?”

  “Yes. Listen.”

  I did and could hear a gurgling swish of water somewhere below marking our passage through the seas, and understood what he meant. The sound of freedom. My smile mirrored his.

  “I need to collect some belongings,” he added. “Then I’ll leave you in peace. If you need me, I’ll be on deck or in the chartroom.” He pointed to the bulkhead and the cabin on the other side of it. “Now get some sleep, it’s been
a long day,” he repeated.

  I nodded, he was right, we were exhausted. “Some belongings, you said, is this your cabin?”

  “Not anymore,” he answered. “Goodnight, Gabriella van Ecken, Klara.” He smiled again and left. I walked to the door and locked it, then shoved the back of the chair under the handle just to make sure. After all, I didn’t know how many keys there were.

  “So what now?” Klara asked.

  I could see how scared she was and sat back down on the cot. I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

  “Now we learn to sail, and make ourselves a part of this crew. Erik will never stop looking for us—his pride won’t let him—and that man hates Erik and the rest of them as much as we do. Staying aboard this ship is our best chance of freeing ourselves from my husband and his pirates. You heard the captain; he wants them to feel the blade of his sword and the lead of his guns. If we help him do that, then we can find somewhere to build a new life.”

  Klara smiled. “I saw the way you looked at that Spaniard, Gabby, you want this life!”

  “I just want to be free of Erik, Klara, forever. That’s all I’m thinking about at the moment.”

  *

  Sleep wouldn’t come thanks to the swinging of the bed on its creaking chains and the sounds of the ship. I lay for what seemed hours, envying Klara her slumber and jumping at every new noise: the wind howling through the rigging above; the water smashing against the thin wooden hull. It didn’t sound like freedom now, more like threat.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, a bell rang out regularly, sometimes once, usually more. I counted up to eight just as I was finally dropping off.

  I must have fallen asleep because I woke to the same bell being rung madly, accompanied by shouting and stamping. Even the ship’s movement had become violent—doing its damnedest to throw me off the cot—although Klara still slept.

  Suddenly I realized what all the fuss and noise was about, we must be sinking! I woke Klara, struggled back to my feet and immediately fell. I tried again, this time with more care. The deck beneath my feet was bucking and lurching from side to side, and I could only keep my feet by bracing my hands against the low deckhead. At this rate the ship would be on the bottom before we even got out of the cabin.

  Chapter 30

  A huge crash startled me, and the deck jolted under my feet as water crashed against the stern windows. We had to get out. Panicking, I knocked the chair away, wrenched the door open and staggered outside onto deck, then immediately fell. Klara crouched down beside me, still in the cabin doorway, and refused to move. All we could see was chaos. We were sailing through a tremendous storm, and I could hardly make sense of where I was. The wind, loud enough in the cabin, screamed like a banshee just over my head—its shrieks pierced my skull until I thought I must go deaf. I could see very little: a few lighter smudges in the thick black above; some white streaks in the sea; the dirty white shirts of men somehow running on that heaving, swirling deck. Another crash shuddered through the ship, and a wall of water cascaded over the rail. Thank goodness I was already sitting down; that would have taken me overboard for sure had I still been on my feet.

  Soaking wet, I blinked the salt out of my stinging eyes and tried to work out what I should do. Are we sinking? Why has nobody come to get us? Where are the boats? Are they still being towed? How will we get into one? And how will they stay afloat in the same storm that’s sinking their mothership? Although, as I can’t even stand up, it makes no difference, does it?

  I could see a patch of white coming toward us, which became a shirt and then the captain. He was coming to help us. I could see him talking to me, but didn’t hear a word of it; the wind making him mute. But I knew we’d be safe now, he’d make sure we got to a boat. He bent and shouted directly in my ear.

  “What the hell are you doing on deck? Get back to the cabin! This is no place for landswomen!”

  I looked past him and pointed at the man struggling with the tiller. He turned and ran to help, caught the wooden steering bar, then put his whole weight onto it just as the helmsman was thrown to the deck. Klara and I stayed where we were. I couldn’t see any way of successfully regaining my feet, and I’d rather die before I crawled across a pirate’s deck—even this pirate’s deck. One thing was for sure—we didn’t belong here. What was also certain was that we had nowhere else to go.

  *

  I don’t know how long we sat there, but it was long enough for my fear to turn to amazement. From the quarterdeck in front of the cabin I watched those men hauling on ropes, drenched by waves crashing over the bulwarks and onto the deck. How on earth did they know which rope to pull in the dark? How did they manage to stand upright? Even the man with the pegleg moved easily, and I realized this was normal. We weren’t sinking; we were sailing.

  I thought I was seeing things when Klara pointed upwards. My eyes had got used to the darkness, and I saw men climbing. I was grateful for my position on the deck; I could watch them, just, outlined against the sails and balanced precariously on the yards swinging wildly with the motion of the ship.

  The whole ship shuddered when an enormous wave broke over her side, and I caught a glimpse of a white shirt as its wearer was swept across the deck. I was sure he must have gone over. But as soon as the force of the water eased, he picked himself up and went back to the rope he’d been heaving on as if nothing had happened. Madness.

  I only looked away when I heard laughter. The captain was watching our open-mouthed amazement with great hilarity. His earlier anger appeared to be forgotten.

  “This is nothing, querida, just a fresh gale—a stiff topsail breeze! He held a hand to me. “Up you get. I’m serious, you need to go back to your cabin. I haven’t got eyes enough to keep you both safe out here while you find your sea legs.”

  I thought about refusing. I was enjoying watching these men sail the ship and, now that I knew we were safe, didn’t mind the force of the wind any more—although I did have a little shelter here in front of the cabins. Now that I’d got used to it, I found its strength exhilarating, but the look in Captain Santiago’s eyes told me he hadn’t made a request. I took his hand and got to my wobbly feet, earning more laughter from the captain.

  “Your feet are too close together, querida. If you want to walk my decks, you’ll have to walk like a sailor—feet wide apart and shift your balance with the deck—use your toes. Yes, that’s better.”

  I stumbled into him on his praise and laughed myself. “I think I’m going to need some practice!”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But not now.” He helped me back into the cabin, where Klara had already crawled to the cot, feeling sick with the motion of the ship.

  He looked at me, and I realized my shirt was saturated and stuck to my body. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. He left the cabin and returned a moment later with an armful of linen.

  “Here, you both need dry clothing.”

  He also gave me a purple sash and a frockcoat. “I know it’s not of the quality you’re used to, but we don’t keep any ladies’ clothing in the slopchest.”

  I took the clothes from him, grateful that they were at least clean, if no longer quite dry, and held up the coat. “But this is yours, isn’t it? I’ve seen you wearing it.”

  “It was, briefly, but it’ll look better on you, you’re welcome to it.”

  “Thank you.” I was touched by his generosity, until I realized that both coat and silk sash had almost certainly been stolen. Still, he could have kept them for himself.

  “Captain Santiago,” I called after him.

  He turned back to me. “Leo,” he corrected.

  “Are you Spanish or English?” I flushed and remembered my manners. “Forgive my rudeness, but I’m confused, your name sounds Spanish, but your speech is English in the main.”

  He smiled. “My father was Spanish and my mother English. She taught me her language as a child before she died. These days, English is the safest language on the water i
n a Carib Sea overrun with Jamaican privateers on the hunt for anything Spanish, even if we’re not at war at present. I’ve spent my sailing life with Englanders, many of the crew are English or a close relation. Besides, it’s the one language everyone aboard can speak to some extent.”

  I nodded, trying to understand, but he hadn’t finished. “And you? You sound English, but the town was Dutch.”

  “Yes, it is. I was born in the Massachusetts Bay Colony and was married to a Dutchman.” He waited for me to carry on, but I wasn’t ready to discuss my life with this man, not until I’d decided whether he really was a friend. He nodded at my silence and went back to his ship. I gave one of the shirts to Klara and we both changed.

  *

  It was wonderful to be dry(ish) and warm again. I massaged my ribs, still bruised, though at least no longer bloody from the wooden stays that Erik had insisted be drawn as tight as possible under my gowns, and which I had discarded just over a week ago. I reveled in the freedom of the rough linen shirt.

  I sat on the cot and wondered what to do now. Sleep was out of the question; not only did I have to hold onto the cot just to sit, I felt exhilarated and excited after experiencing the wild weather on the other side of the door and, I realized, hungry—I hadn’t eaten for more than a day. We hadn’t been offered anything since we came aboard. My thoughts returned to the scene outside and I couldn’t stop thinking about the men up the masts. I looked around the cabin again. I’d had enough of being kept prisoner and doing what I was told. I didn’t want to start a new life in the same vein. I was trapped aboard this ship, but that didn’t mean I had to be trapped in this cabin; I wanted to find a place in this strange new world, somewhere I could fit in, and that meant sailing.

  I put on my new coat and slipped out to Klara’s admonishments, feeling very strange as I waddled along, trying to mimic Leo’s walk. The result was not very ladylike, and was no doubt humorous to watch, but at least I kept my feet. More or less.