Dead Man's Chest (The Plundered Chronicles Book 5)

by Alex Westmore

“A man and a cow.”

  Gallagher giggled. “That’s silly.”

  “You never know when you might need to punch a cow.” Pulling Gallagher to her with one arm, Quinn stood at the aft watching the galleons scatter. As much as she wanted to stay with Grace, she would not. Grace had been right. This wasn’t their fight. She’d thought maybe the destruction of Elizabeth’s naval forces might set England back on its heels and take Ireland out of her sight.

  That didn’t appear to be happening.

  Maybe it never would. Queen Elizabeth was, quite simply, the most powerful monarch on earth, and if she wanted to absorb Ireland into her kingdom, there was probably little the Irish could do to stop her. As long as the clans remained divided, Ireland would never have enough to fight against English rule. It all made Quinn’s heart hurt.

  “Callaghan?”

  “Yes, Bog?”

  “Will Captain Grace be okay?”

  Tilting her head, Quinn gazed down at the little girl who bore her real last name and whom Quinn loved her as her own. “You know, I think I ask myself that question every day.”

  “Because she’s a pirate?”

  “Because she’s Grace.”

  “We’re not gonna fight?”

  “Going to. You may learn swords, bows, knives, and daggers from my crew, but not the way they speak. I am not joking here, Bog. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sir.

  The crew had always called Grace that, and now, it was her turn. It was as strange as it was endearing, and, like Grace, Quinn let it stand.

  “It is important to speak well in our business, Bog. I’ve met kings and queens, priestesses and paupers. It is easier to lower one’s self than it is to raise up. For the last time, do not pick up the crew’s language habits, all right? I promised your mother I would take good care of you. I need you to help me do that.”

  Gallagher nodded. “I will try, but can I have one bad word?”

  Quinn felt the corner of her lips twitch. She was becoming more and more like Quinn every day. “That depends. What word?”

  “Shite.”

  Quinn thought for a moment. “Fine.”

  “Can I have a new one every year?”

  “Don’t push me. Now take your little pirate mouth and go back to bed.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m the captain, kiddo. My job is to make sure everyone on board stays alive.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Every single one.”

  When Gallagher left, Quinn tried to fill the cracks in her broken heart that seemed to open wider with every passing day. She had loved Gallagher’s mother, Fiona, more than she ever thought possible to love another. Her heart ached at the loss of her, and there would forever be a void where Fiona once stood.

  Gallagher made that hole much smaller, though.

  “You can’t move forward and backward at the same time.”

  Quinn did not need to turn around to know it was Tavish’s wife, Maggie, who was speaking to her.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Maggie stepped next to Quinn. The air still smelled of smoke and tar, but the slight breeze had shifted for the moment, leaving the salt air tickling their noses. “Ya get that faraway look on your face, and the boys would never see it, but I do. All the time. How could ya not? Bog looks just like her.”

  “Aye, she does.”

  “Makes it hard.”

  “Aye, but I’m so glad she’s with me. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning.”

  “Ah, phsaw love. These boys are the reason ya get up. Bog is the reason you stay up.”

  They stood in silence a little while before Maggie said, “No matter what ennabody says, that little girl belongs with you. She’s a natural—as natural as if youda born her yourself.”

  A slow smile crept on Quinn’s face. “She’s getting pretty good, aye?”

  “Oh, aye. She’ll make a fine bowman one day.”

  “And the men?”

  “Adore her. And… well… as strange as this may sound, I believe she brings some balance and stability to the ship. The men seem to check themselves a bit more. They swear less. It’s good for them. And her.”

  “Why did you say no matter what enna one says? Who would say that to me?”

  Maggie sighed. “Everra one who questions havin’ that wee lass on board. If they haven’t, they will. She’s just a babe in their eyes. In ours, she’s family, and family is all that matters.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “Yer welcome. Can I ask what yer plan is now that we’re not fightin’ Elizabeth?”

  Quinn nodded. “We need to head home for a spell. It’s been a while since the crew has seen their families.”

  “Ya really do have a soft spot fer these rapscallion, no-good pirates. They will certainly appreciate the time.”

  “As will I. Once we see our families, I think the crew will settle down a bit more. I know it was a tough choice for a number of them to leave the Malendroke, so I am hoping that time off the water will aid in those repairs.”

  “Yer worried fer her.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Always. Going after Drake is much like when she went to see Elizabeth. Her unnecessary risks haunt me and make me fear for her crew.” Quinn inhaled. “She should have left with us.”

  “Yer a good captain, Callaghan. The men trust you completely. Ya got us out of there in the nick of time. The Spaniards have underestimated the speed of craft. For Grace to stay was ego, pure and simple, and until she lays her hatred of Drake aside, she will continue to risk her crew.”

  Quinn slowly turned to Maggie. “Speed of craft? Why, Mags, you sound like a crewman.”

  Maggie laughed and patted Quinn’s shoulder. “Adapt or die, my dear. Adapt or die.”

  It was just after daybreak when Quinn shot out of bed at the sound of a cannon.

  “Fitz”

  “Hard to starboard!” Fitz yelled, cranking the wheel to the right, sending everyone flying.

  “Their galleons followed us outta the battle, lad,” Tavish yelled just as the Emerald took fire. The ship creaked and groaned as if hurt.

  “Secure the deck, fellas! Where’s our gunmen? Return fire, goddamn it!”

  A third cannonball sailed over the Emerald’s deck before the Emerald finally got off its first shot. It, too, missed.

  “Damn it, Tavish, see what the bloody hell they’re doing down there!” Quinn gazed out at the three galleons surrounding them.

  “Jesus,” Fitz muttered. “What now, Captain?”

  “Take out the port ship and sail over her carcass,” Quinn ordered. “We’re going to have to go through them.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  A crew member known as One Eye jumped up to the wheel. “Got bowmen at the ready, sir.”

  “We’re smaller and faster, One Eye. We’re going to run parallel and send fire at them.”

  One Eye nodded, hopped down the steps, and shouted orders to the bowmen.

  Fitz studied the ships in front of them. “We go parallel, Captain, we open up our whole port side.”

  “We don’t sink one of these ships, Fitz, it won’t much matter.”

  They stared at each other a moment before Fitz nodded. “You know we don’t have the firepower, Callaghan. Even if we sink her, those other two will crush us first.”

  She knew he was right. The three galleons were well-equipped for battle. They had almost three times the firepower, probably ten times the amount of gunpowder, but Quinn knew the Emerald was faster. Lighter. If they could sink one—just one—they had a chance.

  It was a slim one, but it was better than nothing.

  Two of the ships fired on the Emerald. One hit the aft deck, the other fell short by quite a few yards. The aft deck splintered and caught fire. Quinn knew her men would easily take care of the damage.

  Problem was, she knew there would be more. What then? How in the hell was she going to get them out of this?

>   “Lad?”

  Quinn turned to Tavish. For a moment, she did not know what to say. They were clearly outgunned. If she could get the Emerald’s speed up, they had a chance to outrun the ships.

  Of course, outrunning cannon fire was another thing altogether.

  “I’m not going to surrender,” Quinn growled.

  Tavish’s eyebrows rose. “Who said ennathing about surrender? We canna fight ’em, so runnin’ is our only chance. I got men up the masts and we’re light enough as it is, but I…”

  “But we need to unload. Cannons, booty, everything.”

  Tavish nodded. “I’ll give the word.”

  Quinn watched as Tavish disappeared below. “Goddess protect us,” she murmured.

  That’s when she saw it. Two Portuguese ships coming at an incredibly fast clip.

  Any hope Quinn had of saving her crew died when she saw those ships.

  “Captain?”

  Quinn inhaled deeply. “Surrender is such a vile word.”

  Fitz stared straight ahead.

  “We can’t outrun them now, and we can’t sit still.”

  “The men’ll fight fer ya, Callaghan. Just give the orders and we’ll fight to the last man.”

  “And die for me? For us? I don’t think so, Fitz. I think we’re going to have to relieve ourselves of the Emerald and surrender ship and crew. It’s our only option.”

  “What if the crew would rather fight than surrender?”

  “It is not their decision, and besides, I can’t let them do that, Fitz. If my men are going to die fighting, it best be for something they believe in and not some sea battle that doesn’t involve us.”

  Quinn watched as the nearest Portuguese vessel sailed between the Emerald and the galleons.

  “Captain?”

  Quinn held her hand up. Something about the way the ship moved gave her an inkling of hope. “Hold.”

  Cannons boomed, one, two, three, four.

  “Captain?”

  “I said hold, Fitz. This isn’t how it looks.” Quinn looked to Tavish.

  After all their years together on the sea, he knew her well enough to know what she was thinking. “Fitz, swing her to starboard! Tavish, get those bowmen notched and ready! One Eye, we need full masts. Prepare to attack, fellas!”

  More cannons went off as the Portuguese and Spanish traded shots.

  The Emerald was nobody’s target.

  “Light her up, boys!”

  The bowmen raised their bows and waited for Tavish’s go.

  “Fire!”

  Thirty flaming arrows arched through the air toward the nearest Spanish galleon, which continued to take fire from one of the Portuguese ships.

  More cannon fire erupted from the other ship, but this fire was directed at one of the other galleons.

  “Fire!” Tavish ordered again. The arrows took flight once more, only this time, they hit their mark by landing in the sails and embedding in the masts.

  The galleon turned away, firing errantly as it did.

  “It’s turnin’ tail!” Fitz yelled. “Yellow bellied pansies!”

  The Portuguese ships turned their cannons toward the two remaining Spanish ships.

  The attack by the Portuguese was over in less than two minutes, aided, in part, by the few shots her men managed to get off.

  “They’re needed for the real battle,” Quinn said to Fitz as they watched the galleon get smaller in the distance as it made its cowardly escape.

  “What about the Portuguese, Captain? Think they want us as well?”

  Before Quinn could answer, the captain of the Portuguese ship leaned over the side of the ship and took his hat off.

  Long blonde locks tumbled out from under the hat. The captain of the lead Portuguese ship was none other than,

  “Lady Killigrew,” Quinn muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Ahoy, Irish pirates! I thought that was your ship! Would have recognized her anywhere!”

  “Holy Christ,” Fitz muttered. “If it isn’t the previous owner.”

  Tavish leapt up the steps to join Quinn on the captain’s deck. “Is there no end to the women who love you, lad?”

  Quinn punched him in the arm. “It’s not like that. Nothing ever happened between us. She’s a married woman and I’m not interested.”

  “Were you stalking me?” she yelled up to Lady Killigrew. “Just can’t get enough?”

  “You wish, Captain Callaghan!” Lady Killigrew yelled with a smile. “I saw you needed a little help, so here we are! We’re a complete service privateering business.”

  And thank the Goddess you are, Quinn thought. “Permission to come aboard?” Quinn asked.

  “Follow us. Those galleons might have friends and I’d rather not have to engage.”

  An hour later, all three ships were well away from the galleons and paralleling the coast. When they eventually dropped anchor, Quinn boarded the Portuguese vessel and stepped into the embrace of Lady Killigrew, collector of stolen goods and pirate booty, and, apparently, captain of her own fighting vessel.

  “Thank you so much, my friend. It appeared a little scary there for a moment.”

  Lady Killigrew laughed. “Scary? You were minutes from winding up at the bottom of the ocean, Callaghan. There’s fearless, and then there’s stupid.”

  “It appeared that way. What are you doing out here?”

  “What else? There are bound to be vessels to plunder once the battle begins in earnest. You know me, Callaghan. Always looking for goods to buy or steal, trade or deal.”

  Quinn couldn’t help but grin. Lady Killigrew wasn’t a notorious pirate, like Grace, but she was well known in the pirate community as the person who could fence stolen goods for a tidy profit.

  “You’re leaving the fight early, my dear.”

  “It does not bode well for the Spaniards. They are too slow and too heavy for the lighter, faster English ships. The tide has turned in favor of the English, so we made a hasty and strategic exit.”

  “On the ship you procured from me. How lovely. How is it working for you?”

  “Verra well. It’s our new home. She’s fast and we have fitted her with larger sails. You did well by us.”

  “Indeed. When we made the trade, you delivered some very substantial booty in the hold of the Fortune Teller. Substantial in many ways. Though I am amazed to find you here, Captain Callaghan. I would love to hear what has transpired with you since we’ve last met.”

  “Now?”

  Lady Killigrew smiled softly. “Perhaps if I hear where you’ve been, I might be able to assist you in where you’re going.”

  Quinn tilted her head. “Going? Is there someplace we ought to be going?”

  Motioning for Quinn to follow, Lady Killigrew chuckled. “Of course there is. You need to go where everyone else is going—to the New World!”

  “Can’t I go out now?” Gallagher whined. “I’d rather learn sword skills than that dirty sounding English. What an ugly language.”

  Quinn smacked Gallagher softly in the head. “What have I told you?”

  Gallagher sighed. “That people who communicate better are more successful than those who don’t.”

  “Exactly. And that means learning languages.”

  “Did my mother know languages?”

  Fiona. Gallagher’s mother and Quinn’s ex-lover. On her deathbed, Fiona begged Quinn to take her daughter away from her English husband to be raised as an Irish pirate. Fiona’s husband, Robert, then sent men after her, but the Pirate Queen, Grace O’Malley, repelled the attack. As far as Quinn knew, Robert had not stopped looking for them.

  “She sure did. She spoke English, Gaelic, French, Latin, and Scottish.”

  “Nuh uh. You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m not. Your mother was one of the smartest women I’ve ever met, and she spoke all of those languages like a natural. Now don’t give me enna more of your sass or you won’t hold a sword, throw a knife, or draw back a bowstring for a wee
k. You hear me?” Though her words were harsh, Quinn hoped like hell Gallagher would not call her bluff. The girl absolutely loved her training time with the crew, and they loved it as well.

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  They returned to their lesson and were back at it an hour when there came a knock on the door to Quinn’s quarters.

  “Enter.”

  The door swung open. A thick shadow cast by Tavis McGee filled the room.

  “Red!” Gallagher shouted with glee. “Save me!”

  Rustling her hair, Tavish knelt down beside Gallagher’s chair. “Language lessons, eh? Did Callaghan ever tell ya about the time Grace met with Queen Elizabeth?”

  “No!”

  “Or about the time Callaghan met with Mary Scotland?”

  “No.”

  Tavish caught Quinn’s eye. “Well then, when yer older and she tells ya about all the times learning a language saved her arse and the arses of her crew, you’ll ken why this time is verra important.” Grinning, Tavish started speaking to Quinn in Scottish.

  When Quinn replied in kind, Tavish laughed and rose.

  “What are you laughing at?” Gallagher laughed.

  “If ya spoke Scottish, then ya’d be laughin’ too.” Turning to Quinn, Tavish said, “I need a moment when yer done.”

  Gallagher’s eyes were wide. “This sounds important! We better finish this later.”

  Before Quinn could answer her, Gallagher jumped from the chair and ran out the door.

  “She’s a handful, that one,” Tavish said. “Gonna be the death a ya.”

  “Aye. More stubborn than both me and her mother.” Quinn collected the scrolls and motioned for Tavish to sit down. “Take a load off.”

  Tavish sat on the rickety chair. “It’s about the crew.”

  “Aye?”

  He nodded, toying with the short beard he’d kept trimmed since his marriage to Maggie. “We’ve been on the watch fer months now. We’ve plundered English ships with reckless abandon. We’ve traded what we don’t need with the Moors, the Corsairs, the Portuguese, and enna one else we came across.”

  Quinn waited—a technique she’d learned from Grace O’Malley long ago.

  “They need to go home, Callaghan. Home to their kin, home to what’s familiar. They need a break from the sea—from each other.”