The Pirate Ruse

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  *

  “Cap’n!”

  There was a pounding on the door.

  “Cap’n Navarrone!” the anxious voice called.

  Cristabel opened her eyes to see Captain Navarrone sitting on the cabin floor in front of the door—his back resting against it, his head drooped forward.

  “Cap’n! The Screaming Witch is at us aft!” Baskerville called from beyond the cabin.

  Navarrone roused then, raised his head, and ran a hand through his hair.

  “What’s that, Baskerville?” he asked as he rather struggled to his feet, as if there were a stiffness about his limbs that was not familiar to him.

  “The Screaming Witch, Cap’n,” Baskerville answered as Navarrone opened the door. “She’s followed us, she has. She’s gaining on the Chichester at our back!”

  “Her crew knows ours is split between the Chichester and the Wench,” Navarrone mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “The crew of the Witch is fewer than before we met her…yet we are only half a crew on each ship.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Baskerville agreed. “What are your orders?”

  Again Navarrone rubbed his eyes—raked a hand through his hair. He glared at Cristabel a moment, as if to place the blame of the Screaming Witch’s reappearance on her.

  “Since Bully Booth is dead, the Screaming Witch has a new captain,” he said. “Thus, does her new captain mean to avenge Bully’s death? Or did he have some knowledge of the riches aboard the Chichester?” He paused a moment, seeming to study Cristabel. “Signal Fergus to move aport of us,” he ordered. “Have Fergus make for the bay, send the schooner out to us, and then take the Chichester to the place we determined. We’ll see who the Witch follows and make our plans accordingly.”

  “Aye, Cap’n!” Baskerville agreed.

  Cristabel startled as the quartermaster then began barking orders to the crew.

  “Looks to be Bully Booth’s men were not so easily bested as we supposed, love,” he said. “So think hard, Cristabel Albay. In whose arms would you rather spend your last night of life? Mine…or whoever the crew of the Screaming Witch elected as their new captain?” When she did not answer, he arched one eyebrow, adding, “Think quick, love…for your answer may determine how boldly I defend you if they board us.”

  “Yours!” she spat with writhing resentment, though no tears welled in her eyes—for she had spent them all the night before.

  He smiled—nodded. “That’s a good lass. Now, you best get dressed. We may be entertaining company.”

  He was gone then, shouting orders at Baskerville’s heels.

  Hurriedly, Cristabel left the berth. She quickly brushed her hair, braiding it into a long plait. Using the water left in the tankard James Kelley had brought to her the night before, she refreshed her throat and face, placed several drops of the peppermint oil on her tongue, and attended to other necessities. She chose a dress from the trunk—blue—and hurriedly pulled it on. She could hear the men racing about the deck—saw the Chichester pass the Merry Wench on the port side.

  It did not take her long to realize that no one was guarding the cabin door. The members of the remaining crew were too busy in preparing for battle. Cristabel went to the back of the room—looked with utter terror upon the bow of the Screaming Witch fast approaching. Her figurehead was a maiden, as Cristabel would have expected. Yet the maiden’s hair was a flaming red, her mouth agape to display sharpened teeth and the protruding tongue of a serpent.

  Terror instantly washed over her! What if Navarrone were harmed? Or James Kelley? Or any of the others aboard the Merry Wench? What if she were taken by Bully Booth’s vengeful crew?

  “Oh, God, please!” she pleaded in a whisper. “I know he is a pirate…but please…please see him the victor once more!”

  She startled—nearly screamed as the cabin door burst open. James Kelley entered, strode to her, took hold of her arm, and began pulling her with him.

  “The cap’n says you’re to remain in here, miss…until the fighting’s over,” James Kelley explained as he went to a panel in the wall near the front of the cabin and pushed on it. Cristabel was astonished when the panel separated from the wall by the tiniest margin. James then pried it back with his fingers to reveal a space just large enough to cache one person.

  “I hate to shut you in, miss,” James said. “It’s awful close-looking in there…but it’s the cap’n’s orders.”

  None too gently the lad pushed her into the space then—pressed the panel into place once more.

  “Not to worry, miss,” he said. “The cap’n says it’ll all be over soon enough…one way or the other.”

  Cristabel could hear it then—shouting, pistol fire, heavy footsteps racing across the deck overhead. The Merry Wench was under attack.

  Chapter Six

  “Seems it’s revenge they’re after, lads!” Navarrone shouted as the Screaming Witch drew broadside of the Merry Wench. The Witch had not fired her guns, and he surmised she had spent her ammunition stores on taking the Chichester. “They’ll swarm our deck…but we’re the crew of the Merry Wench! And hell itself could not defeat us!” He smiled as his men roared with cheering—even in the face of battle—at being outnumbered at least two to one. “Strike swift and hard, lads! Show no mercy…for they fly the bloody banner and will surely show none!”

  He watched as the crew of the Screaming Witch climbed her rigging and began to swing over to the deck of the Merry Wench. He thought of Cristabel Albay hidden in his cabin—hoped she would not allow her stubbornness to rule her actions.

  “Stay there, love. Stay there,” he whispered as two members of the Witch’s crew advanced on him. He grinned as the two pirates suddenly realized who was before them and paused, trepidation evident in their yellow eyes.

  “Come on then,” Navarrone challenged them. “There’re two of you, after all. Don’t tell me you’re afraid to draw cutlass against the Blue Blade when you have the obvious advantage.”

  His goading was sufficient to provoke them, and they advanced. With lightning speed and skill, Navarrone ran his cutlass through one man’s chest, withdrew it, and watched the second man drop to the deck—Navarrone’s blade slitting the blackguard’s throat before he could blink.

  “Bully Booth always did sail with idiots and fools,” Navarrone grumbled as he rushed at a pirate advancing at James Kelley’s back. He easily dispatched the villain with one broad stroke and then took up the dead pirate’s cutlass and turned to face more. Wielding two blades, Navarrone fought an onslaught of attackers. One managed to strike him—at his back—and the wound was deep. Still, he took naught but a moment’s notice of it, for he would not see Cristabel Albay fall into the hands of the crew of the Screaming Witch, nor would he see one of his men cut down—not one.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw then a pirate skulking toward his cabin.

  James was at his back, and he shouted, “James Kelley!”

  “Aye, Cap’n?” the lad asked. The boy was strong—yet young—and Navarrone could hear the fatigue in his voice.

  “To my cabin, boy! Quick! I will hold these four…but you must best that one!” He nodded toward his cabin.

  “Aye, Cap’n!” James Kelley shouted. The lad was off then, leaving Navarrone at swordplay with four pirates about him.

  Cristabel gasped as she heard the cabin door burst open. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in terror. She could hear the battle raging on the deck of the Merry Wench—wept for her own fear and for the sake of the men doing battle.

  “Where are you, wench?” a low, threatening voice growled. “I saw that murdering Navarrone take hold of you and jump from the Witch and into the sea…after he’d killed our captain Bully Booth to have you. I’m sure he ain’t done with ya yet…so where are you, you trollop?”

  Cristabel attempted to hold her breath, but the great sobbing borne of dread was wracking her body, and she had to breathe. Would he hear her?

  “Get out!”

/>   It was James Kelley’s voice, and suddenly Cristabel’s concern was not for herself.

  “How dare you enter the cap’n’s cabin?” she heard James growl.

  The pirate whose voice she did not know laughed.

  “What? They sent a boy to face me? The Devil Wallace…pirate…and captain of the Screaming Witch?” the stranger roared with amusement. “A boy? This is who Navarrone sends to protect his wench? Where is she, boy?”

  Cristabel heard James cry out—heard the clash of cutlass blades.

  “What wench?” she heard James ask. “Cap’n Navarrone don’t keep women. And besides, he’ll run you through for stepping foot in his cabin.”

  “Where is she, boy? Where is the woman who cost Bully Booth his life?” the enemy pirate growled. “Bully Booth was my brother. And I will have my revenge on that woman…and Navarrone!”

  There was more swordplay. Cristabel tightly squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth, for her instincts were screaming in her mind—begging her to run to James Kelley’s aid.

  “Ah, you’re a fair swordsman, boy,” the evil pirate chuckled. “Would it be the Blue Blade himself who instructed you?”

  “He taught me how to kill idiots, if that’s what you mean,” James growled.

  “I’m weary of nursery games, lad,” the pirate growled.

  Cristabel heard James cry out in agony, and she could not bear it.

  “Stop!” she cried as she pushed at the panel in the wall and revealed herself. “Stop it! He’s only a boy!”

  Plethoric tears sprang to her eyes and drizzled over her cheeks as she saw James lying on the floor, writhing in pain.

  “Ah, there you are, trollop,” the hideous pirate mumbled.

  Cristabel grimaced at the sight of him—Bully Booth’s brother, for it was plain obvious they shared the same lineage. The pirate who bore an uncanny resemblance to Bully Booth—long red hair, matted beard, yellow teeth—studied her through small, protuberant eyes resembling those of a rat.

  “My brother is dead because of you!” he roared.

  “Your brother is dead because h-he was weak!” she bravely countered.

  The pirate lunged for her, but Cristabel quickly evaded him. Dashing to the back of the room, she stood behind Navarrone’s desk. Each time the pirate the Devil Wallace attempted to circumvent it, she moved, keeping the broad desk between herself and a certain morbid end.

  “My brother is dead because Navarrone is a coward!” the Devil Wallace shouted. He was enraged, his face near the color of his dirty red hair. “He did not even face down my brother…simply murdered him for the want of a woman.”

  The Devil Wallace turned his head and expectorated the contents of his foul mouth onto the cabin floor as a gesture of disrespect and disgust. Cristabel screamed as he slammed the blade of his cutlass on the desktop.

  “I’ll have you, girl!” he roared. “I’ll have you if it costs me my ship and crew. I’ll have you yet!”

  “You’ll never have her,” Navarrone growled.

  Cristabel gasped and wept with relief as she glanced to see Navarrone standing just inside the cabin. His white shirt was splattered with blood, yet he stood as handsome, as calm, and as confident in appearance as ever. Even for the danger lurking just at the other side of the desk and out on the deck, the thought traveled through Cristabel’s mind that the pirate Navarrone was as astonishing to look upon as ever any Greek or Roman god might have been. He tossed one of the two cutlasses he wielded to the floor—to James—and then ran a hand back through his hair. Cristabel watched as several of the shorter lengths of it tumbled back over his forehead.

  “You’ll never have her…and you will lose your ship and crew,” Navarrone growled as he advanced. “Your life will be spent as well if you dare to match blades with me, Wallace Booth!”

  “I will match blades with you, Navarrone!” the Devil Wallace bellowed. “And when I’ve run my blade through your bloody heart…I’ll cut it out and boil it in my stew!”

  Cristabel gasped as the Devil Wallace lunged at Navarrone. Yet Navarrone easily evaded.

  “You’re bested before you’ve begun, Wallace,” Navarrone taunted. Again Wallace advanced—enraged to murder. Again Navarrone easily evaded.

  Cristabel glanced to James—to where he endeavored to move himself from the center of the room. She wanted to go to the boy, to aid him—with all her being she wanted to aid him.

  She glanced to Navarrone, but he glared at her—shook his head in indicating she should not make to move. She understood his unspoken warning—that she may well cause distraction enough to give the Devil Wallace an opportunity to strike, at either her or Navarrone. Thus, she swallowed the lump of fear and anxiety spurring her toward rushing to James and waited.

  “Is that the best you have to offer, Wallace?” Navarrone goaded the enemy.

  “Not by a fathom!” Wallace growled, advancing once more. This time blade met blade as the two pirates engaged in a battle of strength and skill. Cristabel covered her ears as the crash of steel rang in them.

  The door to the cabin burst open, and two more pirates from the Screaming Witch entered.

  “Aye, lads! Get the girl aboard the Witch!” the Devil Wallace shouted.

  “James!” Navarrone growled.

  Cristabel looked from Navarrone, steeped in violent cutlass battle with the Devil Wallace, to where James had been lying on the floor. She gasped when she saw that he had somehow managed to rise to his feet and was facing the two pirates. Her instincts drove her to attempt to make her way past the Devil Wallace and Navarrone in order to aid James Kelley.

  Drawing a deep breath, she began to sprint toward the wounded boy.

  “No!” Navarrone shouted. Yet her feet carried her forward. Navarrone increased the measure of his aggression on the Devil Wallace, and Cristabel dashed beyond the two pirates locked in battle.

  Without thinking, she reached down, retrieving the spare cutlass Navarrone had discarded upon entering the room. Wielding the weapon clutched firm with both hands and braced at one shoulder, she ran straight for the two pirates advancing on James.

  “Leave him be!” she screamed. One pirate was startled into looking at her—stared at her as if he could not believe what he was seeing. The other, however, was intent upon James—intent upon James until Cristabel drove the cutlass blade into his chest.

  Instantly, Cristabel released the cutlass, sickened as she saw the manner in which it remained in the man’s body—as he looked at her in utter astonishment and sank to his knees.

  “Why, you little…” the other pirate began, raising his cutlass to strike.

  Cristabel screamed as she felt her body being yanked backward—saw Navarrone lunge forward from behind her and drive the blade of his cutlass into the man’s gullet.

  “They’re running like rats, Cap’n!” Baskerville called as he hurried past the open cabin door.

  “Aye!” Navarrone said.

  Cristabel could not move. Her body was still—unable to fathom the sight before her—at what she had done. She stood paralyzed with horrific awe.

  “James Kelley!” she heard Navarrone say. “Are you able?”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” James panted. “Nothing a little stitching won’t solve, I hope.”

  “Then attend the girl while I see what other damage has been done us.”

  “I’ve killed a man,” Cristabel whispered. She could not yet move—felt as if she were sculpted from stone and would never move again.

  She felt Navarrone take hold of her chin—looked at him as he turned her face toward his.

  “You ran through a pirate that meant to murder James,” he said, scowling at her. “And he would have tortured and murdered you had he been given the chance. Do you understand?”

  Cristabel nodded, even though she could make no sense of Navarrone’s words.

  “She is experiencing shock, James Kelley,” Navarrone told the wounded boy. “Baskerville! Baskerville!” he shouted.

  Ba
skerville appeared at the doorway once more, “Aye, Cap’n?”

  “Are they gone? Is the Witch setting sail?” Navarrone asked.

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Baskerville chuckled. “Them that’s still alive anyway.”

  “And our crew? How many lost?” Navarrone was concerned for his men, yet he knew Cristabel’s mind was failing her. James Kelley was wounded and could not care for her if her shock worsened.

  “None, Cap’n. Not one,” Baskerville answered, shaking his head with awed disbelief. “Some’s pretty cut though.” Baskerville looked to James then. “Yep. Looks to be we’ll be having us another stitching-up festival.”

  Navarrone nodded. “See to James Kelley, Baskerville,” Navarrone said. “I’ll be on deck in a moment more.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Have the able men strip these bloody pirates and toss their corpses into the sea,” Navarrone growled.

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “I-I killed that man,” Cristabel whispered.

  Navarrone frowned—steadied the girl as she swayed in slight.

  “Looks as if she ain’t taking it all too well, Cap’n,” Baskerville observed as he placed one of James’s arms around his broad shoulders to assist him.

  “Aye,” Navarrone mumbled. He knew Cristabel might indeed lose consciousness, and he wondered if it would not serve her. He admired her bravery. She had charged a pirate—run him through—and it was astonishing.

  “Here, love,” he said, lifting her into his arms. “Sit down a moment.” He carried her to the chaise, attempting to ignore the alluring fragrance of her hair, the manner in which her body was so forfeit in his arms. Gently he set her on the chaise and hunkered down before her.

  “I killed that man,” she breathed as tears spilled from her eyes.

  “Yes,” he told her. “And James Kelley lives because you were brave for his sake.”

  “I feel…I feel ill,” she panted. “Dizzy…as if…”