Bloodtsianed Blade (Tales Of A Navigator): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  Stumbling backwards, I began to regret my decision to fight him. But, catching a glimpse of the women hugging each other and crying on the floor, reminded me why I made this choice. He could not walk away from this crime unpunished.

  Landing hard against the bulkhead, I quickly pushed myself away, and thrust my sword in his direction. He dodged the jab, and came at me again. Knowing I had to keep a level head to stand a chance against a man of his experience, I focused on every move he made. His footwork was swift and his blows were unpredictable, forcing me into a strictly defensive stance. Every crash of our blades sounded amplified, and every move of his body appeared magnified as I did all I could to keep him from running me through.

  Before long, he began backing me into the corner—snapping and snarling like a beast in the wild. All I could do was block his blows.

  Just as I thought I’d been fool enough to get killed in my first sword fight, the door to the room flew open. Hearing my father’s voice, shaking the timbers with its force, I hoped that his presence would startle my opponent away from me. But it didn’t.

  Watching Ugly Jim’s steel blade slice through the air in my direction, I knew that no one could save me but myself.

  Ducking under his ferocious swing, I lifted my sword and forced it toward his gut. The pointed tip pushed through his coat fabric. I thrust the it into his flesh. The long steel blade sliced through his abdomen. I pushed until the metal burst through the other side.

  As my father had taught me to do, I yanked my blade to the side. I felt his organs rip apart. His body weakened under my force. The weapon that had nearly taken my life fell from his hand. Hearing his sword hit the floor, I held tighter to the hilt of mine.

  Gasping and choking, he grabbed onto me for support. The desperate look in his eyes pierced my soul the same way my blade had pierced his body.

  Wanting to be far, far away from the man who was now mindlessly batting at my chest like a ghastly ghoul, not quite living and not quite dead, I removed my bloodstained blade from within his body and took a step back. Without my sword to skewer him upright, he dropped to the floor. The world around me disappeared. The only thing I could see was the man gagging on his own blood as he trembled and twitched. Standing there silent and unmoving, I gazed deep into his yellow eyes and watched solemnly as the life within them slipped away. Completely entranced, I stared at Ugly Jim as his body went still. In the eerie moment of silence, I felt his spirit leave the room.

  As sound returned to my ears, I heard the cries of the women and the voices of the men. Once again seeing the world beyond the dead body on the ground, I realized that Fang, Burns, Harvey, and my father, had all watched what I had done.

  Before I had a moment to explain—if I even could have spoken at all—Captain Bentley scanned the room, then spoke clear and evenly to the group. “I believe we can all judge for ourselves what happened here, eh?”

  Fang and Burns nodded to agree, and then confirmed that Jim had not only raped the woman, but started the fight with me. As for Harvey, he ran to his fallen mate and wept over his dead body.

  Clapping Fang on the back, the captain said, “Give Harvey a moment with his mate, then you and Burns can bring Ugly Jim’s body above. We’ll bury him with the men who died during the battle. And Bentley, bring the mother and her daughter to Phantom.”

  As he went to help the woman to her feet, I reached for the young lady with my blood covered hand. She easily arose with my assistance. As for her mother, it was with a mouthful of seemingly angry Spanish words that she refused my father’s hand. Looking annoyed by the woman’s nattering disapproval, he knelt before her and once again said something in Spanish. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm her down.

  X

  With the help of the drunk and annoying Spanish translator, I guided the women across the gangplank. Between the mother’s weeping and Espinoza’s singing, I was irritated as could be by the time we reached Phantom’s blood splattered and timber splintered deck.

  While helping the mother below deck, I took note of how torn up her dress was. Not wanting her to have to worry about holding up the remnants of silk and lace in order to stay covered, I slipped out of my coat and offered it to her.

  Squinting at the tattered red fabric, she barked, “No quiero tu abrigo sucio. ¡Hay sangre sobre todo y tú hueles como un perro!”

  The daughter seemed to be speaking sense to her mother. “Usted debería estar agradecido, mamá. El perro salvó nuestras vidas.”

  Though I had no idea what they were saying, it was obvious to me that they were now arguing. Stopping outside the door to my bunkroom, I removed my bloodstained shirt, wiped my sweaty face with it and asked Espinoza, “What the hell are they yapping about?”

  After taking another shot of rum, he belched, “The Madre says you smell like dirty dog, and she is disgusted by your bloody coat. But the little señorita thinks you were nice to save them.”

  Feeling a cocky grin cross my face, I dramatically bowed before the little señorita. “It was my pleasure to protect you, mi’lady”

  Liking the way her cheeks reddened as she giggled, I took a moment to get my first good look at her. Around my age, she had long brown hair, and her soft skin was a nice olive color. Though most of her features were sharp, her lips were full and lusciously framed her wide and tempting smile. Damn, she was one gorgeous young woman, and best of all, she was now batting her long eyelashes at me.

  Catching the interest beaming between us, The Madre clucked at her daughter, “¡Ay, Lorea! ¡No te mires la pirata fea!”

  Spitting out his sip of rum, Espinoza laughed, “She don’t like her daughter looking at the ugly pirate.”

  “Ugly?” I gave The Madre a dirty look. “Pirate? No. I am not a pirate.”

  Espinoza began translating what I had said, which wasn’t necessary because I was just grumbling, so the dispute it caused deepened my irritation.

  When The Madre fired off another mouthy response, I decided I was done with her for the day. Ignoring her bantering and Espinoza’s chortling, I rushed into my room to grab a clean waistcoat and the few other things I needed, before I locked her away for the eve.

  Barging out into the hall, I quickly set down my load of supplies, then shooed The Madre into my room. “Get in there, you mean old woman. You can wait behind the closed door until the captain comes back with my orders.”

  Once she was inside, I held the door open for the little señorita, and fanned my hand toward the entryway to welcome her in. “Enjoy your stay, mi’lady.”

  The señorita smiled at me. But the trance I fell into under her gaze was quickly broken when The Madre tugged her into the room. She cursed at me some more before slamming the door on my face.

  With them out of the way, I buttoned up my clean black waistcoat and asked Espinoza, “Did you catch the daughter’s name?”

  “Her name is Lorea.” He made a dramatic kissing gesture, then started singing a Spanish song with her name in it.

  Wanting to also be done with him for the day, I playfully waved him away, “Ah, go chirp with the gulls, you drunken ol’ dog.”

  Holding his heart, and closing his eyes as he belted out his ridiculous tune, he bumped into Captain Bentley on his way down the hall, which left the captain shaking his head in disgust as he approached me.

  Leaning against the bulkhead next to me, my blood spattered and gunpowder coated father grumbled, “Remind me to get us a new translator when we get to Port Royal.”

  Suddenly glad to have the drunken Spanish translator on my side, I said, “Ah, he isn’t that bad.”

  He raised a brow. “Last time we talked, you wanted me to maroon him.”

  “Things change, you know.” I shrugged. “So, what are we going to do with these wenches?”

  Taking his hat off, he fanned his face with it. “It turns out that those wenches are the wife and daughter of Captain Moralez. Being how our men want to tow Bonita back to Port Royal to cash in on the worth of the fancy hull, I
decided to keep Moralez aboard with his family. He’s locked up in the brig for now.”

  As I sorted through my duffle for something to fan myself with, I said, “Aren’t you a sweetheart.”

  “So they say,” he chuckled. “I’m going to propose the notion of taking them back to Cartagena before we head to port. I could use your vote in my favor when I address the men.”

  Annoyed by the idea of going out of our way—just like I was certain more than half of the men would be—I asked, “What the hell do we need to do all that for?”

  Shaking his head, he grumbled, “You sound like a senseless arse when you question what’s right, Bentley.”

  Pulling my journal out to use as a fan, I said, “You know, your conflicting sense of morality constantly astounds me. We just raided and pillaged a Spanish ship and set the survivors of the bloody attack to drift aimlessly at sea, yet here you are, balking at me for questioning what is right.”

  He laughed. “Remember all those fine lines I’ve talked to you about? Well, this is one of them.”

  I hummed in thought. Though he seemed to know just when to and when not to cross those lines, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever figure it out. But I wasn’t in the mood to be thinking deeply on issues of moral concern at the moment. Feeling a bit of relief from the little breeze I was creating, I shook my head as I teased, “So you came here to sway votes, huh?”

  Straightening up, he plopped his hat back onto his head and said, “That, and to tell you it’ll be your job to watch those bonita’s until we get rid of them, wherever that might be. And this matter is not up for vote. You’re the only man I can trust to guard and protect them as well as I would, so I need you sleeping outside of their door like a guard dog. And getting them anything they might need like a maid.” He flashed me a cheeky grin.

  “With pleasure, sir.” I saluted him.

  Looking me up and down, he jeered, “Just don’t go damning me with the vile curse of having bastard Spanish grandchildren.”

  “No promises.” I winked. “But if it happens, at least you’ll be able to speak Spanish to them.”

  Trying to resist a smile, he mumbled something about me being ridiculous then said, “Only when I’m angry. Now, I’ve got to get to work out there. We’re going to be hauling goods and mending ships till dawn. But, before I go, I want to make sure you’re all right after what happened today.”

  Not at all interested in discussing the matter, I shook my head, “Yes, uh, I’m fine.”

  I could tell he didn’t believe me, and the way he raised his brow led me to believe he wanted to talk about it. But I didn’t. “I’m all right. Get to work, old man.” I shooed him away.

  Walking down the hall, he said, “I’ll have the cook bring dinner and a washbasin for you and those ladies. Clean off all that blood before you show yourself to them again. They’ve seen enough hell for the day.”

  As he rounded the corner, I looked down at my hands. Beyond the cuts and scrapes and smudges of gunpowder, my hands were also covered in blood. So was the hilt of my sword. And this wasn’t boars blood. It wasn’t blood from my knuckles. It was the blood of the man I had killed.

  X

  By sunset, I was clean and ready to devour the savory soup the cook delivered to me, but I had to serve the ladies first. Figuring they had to be as famished as I was, I hurriedly carried the tray to their door and knocked like I was indeed a maid.

  Without opening the door, the mean old lady squawked like a vulture, “¿Quién es?”

  After laughing at her tone, I responded, “I don’t know what that means but I brought you soup.”

  She didn’t answer me, but I could hear her bantering at Lorea about la pirata fea. Beyond the annoying sound of The Madre’s agitated cursing, I heard the melody of Lorea’s bashful giggle. Knowing she was tittering over me, caused me to smile like a monkey.

  After leaving their tray on the floor by the door, I sat down in the hall to eat my own soup. Enjoying the flavor, I said out loud, “You’re missing out, Madre, this soup is tasty.”

  As if she’d understood me, she opened the door. Whipping her head out like a dragon’s, she looked around, then focused on me. The hate in her gaze led me to believe she would have breathed fire on me if she could have, but she settled for cursing me under her breath as she brought the soup into her hidey hole.

  Alone again, and bored as could be, I started digging around in my duffle, looking for something to do. Finding a bottle of rum, I figured the spirituous brew would keep me company plenty fine. After slicing open the bottle, I took a drink, and then decided to sharpen my cutlass to keep busy.

  I had already washed off the blood but as I ran my sanding block along the sharp edge, I thought of how I would never be able to wash my mind clean of the memories this piece of steel now represented. Until now, this very sword had often served me as a useful tool. I had used it to cut lines and to hack back shrubs, to pick things loose, and to poke at things I didn’t want to touch. But I had finally used it to take a life.

  I knew the day would eventually come, and though there hadn’t been much choice in the matter, the memory wasn’t sitting well in my mind. It might have been easier if it had happened in the heat of battle or if it was a man I didn’t know, but Ugly Jim was a member of my own crew. Though he hadn’t sailed with us for long, I knew that dirty dog. I drank with him, I laughed with him, and I fought through a few storms at his side. Now, he was gone, and it was I who had chased his spirit from this Earth.

  I wasn’t there when they dropped his body overboard. The men assumed me to be busy at my post, but in truth, I didn’t want to go. I never liked watching the bodies—wrapped in canvas and weighted by chains—sinking beneath the surface of the sea. And I knew if I had seen Ugly Jim’s body slide down that board, I would have died from guilt and been thrown in next. Hiding from that fateful moment, I thought perhaps I could escape the memory, but the horrific visuals flashing through my mind assured me that there was no running away from what I had done.

  Maybe I should have talked to my father while I had the chance. But honestly, I didn’t want him—or anyone else—questioning the strength and independence I had worked so hard to assert. Killing was a common thing for buccaneers, and if I fell apart for doing something they did so carelessly, and so often, they would send me back to shore with the pansy petal lubber boys they often poked fun of.

  Trying to come to terms with the burden that I would carry forevermore, I kept sanding my blade. The edge was sharper than ever, and the steel was as clean as could be, yet I kept rubbing the stone across the metal as if it was the only thing that would keep me sane. The rum helped, too. Drinking more and more as the time passed, I felt the guilt washing away in the river of liquor flooding my veins.

  Next thing I knew, the door to my room was opening. Expecting to see The Dragon Madre throw an empty bowl at me, I ducked out of her line of sight. But to my pleasant surprise, it was Lorea who was tiptoeing in my direction.

  Glad to see her playful smile, and relieved to have someone to talk with, I patted the floor next to me and slurred, “Come sit to down by me, beauty.”

  I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I tried to speak. Though I felt like an arse for talking like an imbecile, Lorea looked at me as if I’d recited some kind of romantic poetry.

  Sitting next to me, she said something in Spanish.

  Of course she didn’t catch on to my poor wording; she didn’t speak any English. Realizing that I did not have someone to talk with after all, I laughed at my own stupidity. Still, she was pretty as could be, and liking how close she was sitting to me, I assumed I would figure it out.

  Holding her hand over her heart, she sighed, “Gracias por salvar nuestras vidas hoy.”

  I fanned my hand at her. “Whoa now, lassie, I don’t know what you’re saying. I think you thanked me, maybe, so you’re welcome, but there were too many other words I don’t know.”

  She shook her head to signal that sh
e did not understand me.

  Pausing for a moment to think, I tapped my chin and hummed out loud. Far too interested in her beauty, and her attempt to converse with me outside The Madre’s will to let the opportunity pass, I became determined to figure out how to communicate with her.

  Taking note of her expression—which looked maybe a bit nervous, and possibly frustrated like I was about not being able to understand—I realized something. Facial expressions were the same in all languages. I could use my animations to make this work.

  Pointing at her, I slowly traced her outline mid-air, and then pointed to my face where I showed a satisfied smile to indicate that I liked her.

  Blushing, she hid her sweet smile behind her hand.

  She understood me.

  Next, I pointed at her, then back at myself and shrugged my shoulders as if to ask her if she liked me, too.

  She nodded her head yes.

  I flexed my biceps to boast about her affirmation, as well as, to express my pleasure in the fact that my plan was working.

  She giggled again.

  We ended up trying to teach each other our languages by pointing at things and saying the words for them. Every time I tried to say her Spanish terms she would snicker at my slurred wording. I couldn’t blame her. I was hardly capable of speaking English with how drunk I was.

  Next, she reached over and touched the hilt of my sword. “¿Cómo se dice, en inglés?”

  “I say sword.” Though most of the words slipped out of my mind before I could retain them, I did learn how to ask how to say things. “¿Cómo se dice, en Español?”

  “Espada.” She waved her hand around like she was wielding a sword.

  We taught each other how to say gun and knife, and I told myself that I would remember the words, but the boring terms for weaponry flew right out of my drunken mind when Lorea held her pretty little hands up and said, “Manos.”

  Humming like a lustful old man, I teased, “To grab man with?”