Dead Man's Chest (The Plundered Chronicles Book 5)
Page 10
Apparently not.
As she poured herself a whiskey, a drink she still had no fondness for, there came a knock.
Leaping to her feet, she threw open the door expecting…no…hoping to see Kaylish.
It was Maggie.
“Sorry to disappoint, lass,” Maggie said, walking into the small quarters. “But when I saw that beautiful woman leavin’ here so early, I knew it was time fer me to stick my nose where it doesna belong.” Sitting where Kaylish had sat, Maggie poured herself a whiskey while waiting for Quinn to sit down.
“Where are you sticking your nose?” Quinn asked, sitting in her chair.
“In your lack, my dear. You lack love, intimacy, and passion, my friend. You need softness, warmth, someone to share yer bed, even if temporarily. It is not good for people to go without the touch of others. It is not a good idea at all.”
“You’re speaking of Kaylish.”
“I am. Of course I am. How can ya not see how she looks at ya? How her eyes follow ya everra where ya go?”
Quinn tossed back whiskey that burned all the way down. “You see incorrectly, Maggie. She is not like me, Maggie. If she wants me, all she desires is a moment’s dalliance, a reprieve from boredom. I may need tenderness, Maggie, but I will not be someone’s entertainment or adventure.”
“Oh, Quinn, have you become so hardened that you can’t see what others see? Of course she desires you, my friend, but ya won’t ken fer how long unless ya give it a try.”
“Give what a try? Being someone’s amusement?”
“Being someone else’s love.” Maggie laid her hand on Quinn’s wrist. “Dear one, I ken how broken-hearted ya were over Evan. I truly do. But that was years ago and she’s not comin’ back. And if she does, it will not be as the same woman. Hangin’ onto a ghost is a fool’s play, and yer no fool.”
Quinn’s eyes misted over. “No? Then why can’t I release her from my heart? Why does her face haunt me so?”
“Perhaps because there isn’t another to replace her? You willna disrespect her by movin’ on with yer life, Quinn. It’s what she would want.”
Quinn wiped her eyes. “She’s not coming back is she?”
“I do not know, sweet one, but if she does, she will not be the same person, just as you are not the same woman who served under Grace. Being a captain has matured you—you are responsible for an entire crew. That changes a person. It is entirely possible the two of you will no longer share the same emotions, but to sit around thinkin’ of her when there’s a beautiful young woman longin’ fer yer attention, is… well… foolish.”
Quinn narrowed her gaze at Maggie. “You’re my friend, Maggie. My dear friend. And as such, I will forgive you for your insolence, but I advise you to never speak that way to me again.”
Maggie’s cheeks reddened. “I apologize.” Rising, she bowed. “I’ve overstepped my role, Captain, and I am so sorry.”
Quinn wanted to stop her, but she could not. She would not. Just as Grace had held Quinn to a higher standard, so too did Quinn have to do the same to those closest to her.
It was the way of the world. Of her world.
Pouring herself another drink, Quinn held it to her lips a moment, then set it back down.
Yes, she was lonely. Truth was, she’d been lonely for a very long time. As much as she loved the men, her bed was cold and lonely, and her skin ached.
Fiona had once called it skin hunger—when your skin is starving for affection, longing to be touched.
That was how Quinn had been feeling for a few years now, but there was no way to fix it.
Not even with Kaylish.
The young woman was under her charge, and besides, she wasn’t like Quinn, was she? Quinn just didn’t want to be a dalliance… a respite from boredom. She wanted something…better. She wanted what she had with Fiona, only without the married man attached.
As beautiful as Kaylish was, Quinn refused to get emotionally involved. And she had learned that being physical with a woman meant eventual emotional connection. It was the way of women. They could seldom separate sex and love. Gallagher muttered something in her sleep as Quinn turned and pulled the covers up around her.
Staring down at her, Quinn couldn’t believe how grown up she was. She loved Gallagher with all her heart. She was a little light, a sliver of hope for the future. With all of the English intervention, all the in-fighting, the murders, the way Elizabeth was slowly taking bites out of Ireland, it just felt safer on the water.
But this much water was endless, surprising Quinn by how long and infinite it stretched. Days turned into weeks, weeks into more weeks, until now, at the halfway mark, Quinn was thrilled to have a second ship because it gave her something to focus on besides the fact that Kaylish was beautiful. And sexy. And, and, and.
Bending over, Quinn gently kissed Gallagher’s forehead. “I love you so much, sweet girl. Sleep well.”
Standing in the doorway to her quarters, Quinn thought she heard something. Pausing to listen, she realized it was probably just the wind. No, not just the wind.
The wind and her loneliness being inflated by it. She inhaled the salt air and said what she had been saying every night since she last saw her precious lover.
“Goodnight, Evan. I miss you.”
The knock on her door was loud and frantic. So was the voice that called, “Captain! Come quick! There’s men on the water.”
Quinn was up and out the door in under a minute.
“What do you mean men on the water?” she asked as she followed One Eye to the forward deck.
“Not our men, Captain, but someone’s.”
When Quinn got to the bow, she looked through her telescope. Sure enough, there were eight small boats bobbing up and down on the water. The morning sunlight danced and hopped from wave to wave, but it was very clear to see that at least fifty men were stranded on the water with nothing but those boats.
“Jesus.”
“They look pretty ragged,” Fitz said, joining them at the bow. “You don’t suppose—”
Quinn turned. “Who do we have who can speak Portuguese?”
Fitz frowned in thought. “Bunch speaks a little. Asa speaks some. You’re not thinkin’—”
“I don’t know what to think Fitz. That’s why I need both of them on this deck immediately.”
“Aye, Captain.”
When Fitz left, she resumed looking through her scope. “Let me ask you this, One Eye. What do you think Grace would do under these circumstances?”
“Do? She wouldn’t do ennathin’. Not her men, not her problem. We don’t got food or water enough fer ’em. She’d leave ’em to theirselves.”
Quinn lowered the ’scope. “She’d just sail right on by?”
He nodded. “It’s her way, Callaghan.”
“Not yers.”
Tavish.
“We were in that same position, once,” Quinn said to no one in particular. “Hopeless and helpless.”
“Aye, lad, we were. Grace would sail by because she follows a different code than you. Ya canna always wonder what she would do, lad, because the two a ya are nothin’ alike. The sooner ya figure that out, the better we’ll all be.”
Placing her telescope in the pocket of her jerkin, Quinn ran both hands through her hair. “They’ll die out there.”
“Aye. That they will.”
“There’s too many of them, Callaghan,” One Eye said. “What if they try to take us on?”
“My guess is they’re probably pretty weak. Besides, there are far more of us. I’m not worried about them attacking us. I’m more worried about the cost to our souls.”
“Patch has a point, lad. Bringin’ ’em on board could put us at risk.”
Quinn stared at the Portuguese ship trailing in their wake. “Then we put them on board that ship, which I suspect is theirs.”
“Not a bad guess,” One Eye said as Fitz arrived with Bunch and Asa in tow. “Those men abandoned ship rather than protect her cargo.”
Quinn turned to Bunch, a pirate who got his nickname because his dick was so large it bunched up in his pants. “I need you to find out who they are and what that ship was called. Get as much information from then as you can.”
Bunch nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
“I want us at a near standstill when we reach them,” she said to Fitz. “One or two hours won’t kill us.”
Fitz nodded and took off.
“Yer gonna save ’em?” Tavish asked.
“I don’t know yet. If that’s their ship, then yeah. I’m going to put them back on it.”
“There’s no food or water. They’ll be in the same predicament, only on a larger ship.”
“Tavish, there are no better fishermen than the Portuguese. Trust me. They’ll have enough fish to fill a captain’s quarters. As for water, we can ration some until the next storm hits.”
“Sounds solid. Come on, Bunch. Let’s see who those poor bastards are.”
Quinn ran orders down to Maggie and Kaylish to prepare for the injured, but not to use much, if any, of the medical supplies they brought on board. Then she had Logan bring up water and whiskey, but no food.
Finally, as they approached the battered boats, Quinn stood next to Bunch and gazed down at the men in their small boats. They looked the worse for wear.
“Ask if enna of them speak Latin, Spanish, French, or English,” Quinn said.
Bunch asked and turned to her to translate the answer. “Some English, most Portuguese and Spanish.”
“Excellent. Ask them who speaks Spanish the best.”
The answer was a sailor in another boat, so they moved to that side of the railing and leaned over.
“Jesus, I can smell them from up here,” Bunch said.
“No you can’t. You can go back to your post, Bunch. I’ll take it from here.”
With Bunch gone, Quinn asked the rest of the crew to give her some space. These men would be frightened, possibly wounded, and feeling very vulnerable.
“I speak English!” the sailor yelled from the boat. “Not so good as Spanish.”
“I am Captain Callaghan,” Quinn said in Spanish. “Master of the Emerald. Who are you?”
“Freitas. I am first mate from the Guerrero.”
Quinn licked her lips. She remembered how awful it had been to be so thirsty when they were shipwrecked.
“That means warrior,” Bunch whispered loudly from the steps to the hold.
She shot him a look that sent him back down.
“Which is your captain?” Quinn asked.
“He did not make it. Please. I beg you. Let us come aboard. We will die out here.”
“What happened to your ship?”
“That bastard Englishman Drake seized our ship, took our cargo, and forced us into the water when our captain mocked him. He ran our Captain through before tossing him overboard.”
That sounded like something Drake would do, Quinn thought.
“Please. We have been on this water for four days. Our men are dying. We will work for the smallest of your provision. Just please do not let us just die out here.”
Quinn did not need to look at the person who had come up next to her to know it was Tavish.
“Everra thin’ and everra body is ready, lad. There’s no talkin’ ya outta this, is there?”
“Four days, Tavish. Four long, hopeless days without food or water. God knows how many of those men are already dead.” Quinn looked to see the Guerrero dropping anchor behind them. To Freitas, she said, “Bring your boats aft. I think I have something for you.”
“Bless you, Captain Callaghan!”
As Quinn and Tavish quickly made their way aft, Quinn gave more orders to her men, who scurried about completing her requests.
“I can’t imagine how frightened they must have been,” Quinn said. “To think they were just going to die out here.”
“Aye ya can, lad. We thought we were goners once. It’s why yer lettin’ ’em back on their ship, aye?”
Quinn nodded. “That’s one reason. It’s the right thing to do.” Quinn had once pretended to be dead so she could escape the darkness that followed her after so much plundering and killing. When, at least, she finally came to terms with who and what she was, she was able to settle into the mantle of captainhood.
When the Portuguese boats came around the aft part of the Emerald and the crew saw their ship, they broke out in cheers that brought tears to Quinn’s eyes.
Some of the men cheered, some of them cried, but all who could stand stood a little taller.
“Captain Callaghan, voce e um anjo?” One of the sailors asked in Portuguese.
Quinn grinned. “No, sir. I am no angel.” She turned to the man named Freitas. “My crew will help get you and your men back on board. We will give you some food to ration and some water, but we can’t spare much. I am sure you understand.”
Freitas nodded and translated to his men before turning back to Quinn. “Captain, the ship is really enough, and we do not know how to repay you.”
“Put your men who are in the worst shape in one boat and you, Freitas, accompany them here. I have a healer on board.”
“God bless you, Captain.”
Quinn turned from Freitas and supervised as her men dropped gangplanks to the Portuguese ships and ran provisions to them.
“My last words on the subject, lad. Not one Captain enna where in the world would share precious water with those blokes. I hope ya doona live to regret it.”
“I appreciate your candor, Tavish, and you’re right. It is the last time I wish to hear it.”
When eight of the Portuguese men were carried down to the galley, where Maggie, and Kaylish waited to assist, Quinn stood at the wheel and watched as Freitas hobbled up.
“Do you need my healer?”
“No… uh… sir. Had this limp before Drake made us jump ship. Rat bastard.” He straightened up and nodded his head. “Captain Callaghan…I… we can’t thank you enough for this help.”
“I would like to believe you would do the same. Now, we have a bit of a plan that should keep us all safe and well.” Quinn explained to Freitas what she had for the crew and their ship.
For his part, he listened and nodded until Quinn was done. When she finished, he said, “That is most generous, Captain.”
“Aye. My men would not have it so, so if you or yours even think about turning on us, we will finish what Drake started.”
Freitas shoved his shoulders back. “You have my word we never attack your ship or your crew. If we can ever pay you back for this, we will.”
“Very good. Now, what is your plan?”
“We will have many more fishes in less than two hours. It is water we worry about.”
“There’s a storm heading this way. I say we head that direction, find a place to sit it out, and collect as much rain water as we can.”
“Consider us to do it, Captain Callaghan.”
“It’s a nice ship, Freitas.”
“She is. I never thought to see her again. I only wish our captain could be alive to see this.”
“Get something to eat. I’ll send word when we know something about your injured.”
When Freitas left, Jacob bounded up to the deck. “Miss Maggie told me to tell you six of the men will be fine. The other two might not make it.”
“Thank you, Jacob.”
Tavish came up to her and cleared his throat. “They’ve got them situated, and it looks like that storm you saw will be coming in. We oughtta get into calmer waters before it gets here.”
Once they set anchor and battered down the ship, Quinn waved over to Freitas, who waved back. She worried for the weakened crew of the Guerrero but knew she had done all she could do for them.
It was time to turn her attention to her own crew.
Nightfall brought with it the storm, which whipped strong winds around the deck and pelted it with large raindrops.
“Enter.”
Tavish and Fitz both entered, water dripping from their coats. “A word, Captain?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
The rain battered the deck so loudly even closing the door didn’t keep the sound down.
Tavish glanced at the chairs.
“Please, sit down. You’re both acting strange.”
Tavish and Fitz leaned on the table with their elbows. “Can we speak freely, Captain?”
“What is the matter with you two?”
“It’s… we’re…” Fitz stammered. “We’ve been meanin’ to talk to ya fer a bit now.”
“Out with it. What in the hell do you have to say?”
“Ireland is losing,” Tavish blurted out. “And we’re doubting it will recover in our absence or in our lifetime.”
Quinn sat at the table with them. “Okay.”
“And we think…well, we believe we need to discuss our… options upon return.”
Quinn tilted her head. “Options?”
“Aye. Ireland is a mess. Elizabeth is out of control, the Church wants more than we have to give, and Grace is still busy attackin’ everra one.”
Quinn locked eyes with Fitz. “What are you two getting at?”
Fitz exchanged glances with Tavish. “We think ya should consider findin’ a new place for us to light when we go home. Galway isn’t big enough for you and Grace.”
Quinn’s eyebrows rose. “A new place? You want to… move out of Ireland?”
They both nodded.
“We want to be safe, aye?” Tavish said softly. “Ireland and England are not that. At all. We can go enna where, so why go someplace where there’s a queen who hates us, a governor who despises us, and a nobleman who wants ya dead?”
Ah. Illumination at last.
“So that’s what this is about. You’re afraid Robert might actually get to me.”
“It’s not about that bastard, lad. It’s about what’s happenin’ to our world. So long as Grace continues to vex English ships, the whole lotta us are in danger of fallin’ under the English sword. Why force ourselves into a corner when we have the ability to go enna where we want?”