Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) (26 page)

“Yes. But I’m Charlie for now. These men wanted him dead or alive. They want
Sterling alive. I have to find him.”

I ran up the stairs to continue on my mission.

The battle raged on below, but the quarterdeck was nearly empty. Hiding myself behind a barrel, I reloaded my pistol with trembling hands. My heart was beating out of my chest, and blood was flowing through my veins like raging river rapids. I struggled to keep focus. I had to keep my mind straight if I wanted to survive.

Once my gun was ready, I looked up to see
Sterling fighting two men with his one sword. He was wearing a Spanish coat, and his long hair was tied back, but I could see his ponytail flailing under his hat as he moved around the dead men on the ground. Only one of them was of his own crew. Holy shipwreck, how many men had he killed?

Sterling dodged a blow from one of the men he fought with and used the momentum of his evasion to slash the other man across his side. As the man fell dead, I was glad I had not taken the time to associate with my crew. I had seen him, but we never spoke and I didn’t even know his name, yet it still pained my heart to watch him die by the hand of the man I loved. I didn’t want to see anyone else die.

Sterling continued to fight with the other man, and the violence that flurried between them assured how futile was my hope.

After
Sterling feint a move against his opponent, the firelight from the
Blue Tide
illuminated his face and he seemed completely unfamiliar in his ferocity. I had imagined the day that I would see him in action, but the strength that he fought with was more intimidating than I expected. His force was savage, yet his footwork was precise. His arms were powerful around the core of his bodily strength, and he swung his sword with swift and steady blows, blocking the oncoming swings with a solid blade. His fight showed me the raw power of man, and I was equally terrified and entranced by his might.

Sterling
clearly had the upper hand, and the man he fought was backing up against his blows. Then a second man charged up the stairs and ran towards Sterling’s back with a bloody blade. Without a moment to panic, I raised my pistol and shot the charging man. Sterling used the distraction to get his final swing in at his opponent, stabbing him in the gut and guiding him to the deck with a terribly hateful scowl on his face.

I jumped out of my hiding spot, and
Sterling removed his blade from the dead man’s gut, intending to use it on me. Raising my hands in fearful surrender I yelped, “Don’t stab me. No. Oh, it’s me, Charlotte.”

Removing my hat to reveal myself, hoping my short hair wouldn’t detour him from my identity, his dumbstruck expression clearly showed he recognized me. I had never seen anyone look more stunned. Ever. I ran towards him and hugged him with all my might but he didn’t respond to my gesture. The way his chest was heaving, I realized he must have been too elevated in the heat of battle to accept my dumbfounded attempt of affection. As I backed away from him he pointed at the man I shot, and then pointed back at me with the most obscure look of inquiry.

Stunned by the horrifying reality of my action, I defended, “He would have killed you if I didn’t. I shot Morley too so he wouldn’t kill Faron.”

His jaw could have hit the floor when it fell agape.

Just then an arrow flew between us and sharply landed in the wooden post of the mizzenmast. Sterling looked over at the arrow and raised an eyebrow with a curious look of surprise. I chuckled at his funny face and then remembered the seriousness of the moment. Pulling him behind the mast I pushed him up against it and resumed my rush of panic. “Listen to me, Sterling. They want you alive. They want you to take them to that treasure, and you have to surrender.”

He looked at me as if I was insane for suggesting such a thing, but of course he didn’t say a word. His insistent silence was annoying me to no end. Before I got to force a response out of him, that blaggard ol’
Liberty Anne
finally pulled up to help with the fight. She broadsided the portside brim with a crash and the raging crew began a swift second wind of invasion.

Sterling
’s blank gaze lit up with a hellish wrath, and I watched his body flinch between his will to run and fight and his notion to stay near me. The fearsome rumble that invaded the deck reminded me I needed to reload my pistol, and as I did so Sterling’s eyes widened in disbelief.

A slew of men charged the stairs toward where we stood and
Sterling shoved me behind him while raising his bloody blade to fight. I knew the men couldn’t see me fighting on behalf of the buccaneer, but there was no way in hell I would leave him to fight them alone.

Then it all came clear.

Kicking over a small wooden crate to stand on, I pulled out the dagger that Mary gave me, wrapped my arm around Sterling’s neck, and held the blade to his throat. As the charging men hit the top of the stairs, I hollered in my man voice, “This is him. I have the navigator.”

Oliver was one of the men in the raging group, and he simmered their roar to hear me out. The men had their blades and pistols aimed, while Oliver had his arrow drawn. I jumped off the crate, but kept the knife at my lover’s throat and grabbed the collar of his fancy Spanish coat.
Sterling rolled his eyes as I sliced down the front of his coat with my razor sharp dagger.

As I pulled the sliced seam away from
Sterling’s chest to reveal his compass rose tattoo, I heard him inhale through his teeth. “Pirate.”

I was sure no one else heard his saucy whisper, but the look on his face caused the lowest part of my belly to light up like the flames that were ravaging the
Blue Tide
.

Oliver nodded and ordered to his men, “Lock him in the brig.”

They dragged Sterling down the stairs with an unnecessary roughness, and watching him walk away hurt more than the damn shrapnel that peppered my body earlier.

By now, the battle had been mostly tamed with the surviving members of the
Wind of Glory
bound in rope, but there was one small fight remaining. Following the violent sounds, I found a group of men surrounding Faron Flynn. He was batting at them with an oar and throwing them like ragdolls. Their swords were no match for his tirade, and as the herd of them fumbled off he yelled like a beast in the wild. “This is my ship.”

Oliver led a group of armed men to surround the raging leader, and as they encroached upon his space, Faron Flynn slowly stepped backwards. His chest was heaving with heavy threat and he clung to the wooden oar as if it was his own life breath. I knew it would have been easy for Oliver to kill him, and while I prayed he wouldn’t, I heard Oliver mitigate. “I would rather keep you alive, Captain Flynn. I respect your bravery, but you have clearly lost this battle. ”

Faron must have taken place as captain after the mutiny. My face lifted with an untimely smile. There was obviously a long story to be told.

Working my way towards the controversy, I winked at Captain Flynn to assure him I was on his side. Quickly looking away from me to eye the remains of his captured and battered crew, he appeared to be weighing the darkness of his options. To my greatest relief, he let his sense get the better of his rage and lowered his oar.

Oliver’s men cuffed his hands, and he looked to be more pained by his release of power than by any bodily damage he had received during the fight.

The blaze of the burning
Blue Tide
had sunken lower into the sea, releasing a hiss of steam as the flames touched the rocking waters. The night seemed strangely calm after the wash of violence had cleared, but my heart was overcome by a somber haunting as the battle tally was totaled on the deck.

Through the daunting glow of lantern light, I scanned the scene of the dead. I wanted to hug somebody and cry, but in order to keep my cover, I had to act as tough as the men. By the pirates’ rugged attire and bodacious tattoos, it was easy enough to separate the losses between the groups, but I was confused by the sight of the thin and decrepit men that joined the Tal
ly.

Then there, among the tragic scene, I saw Planky’s body lying face down. Knowing it was the last time he would hit the deck, I felt the need to vomit. While doing my best to swallow the urge, it struck me that I had killed two men myself and was equally a part of the bloody massacre that surrounded me. Even though I had save two lives by doing so, I fully expected to be haunted by the memory and punished by God for my murderous actions, but there was no time for such concerns tonight.

Amongst the dreadful wreckage, I noticed that Dedrick Morley’s lifeless body had been placed on the main deck, and I overheard the men saying the raging Captain Flynn used him as a shield. Aside from the morbid visual, I was impressed by the strength and ingenuity that left Faron as the last man standing in a battle where he hardly held an average weapon. He was certainly worthy of his new title as captain, and I was proud to be secretly siding with him.

Oliver Langston paced the deck before the crew. He had a black eye, his lip was bleeding, and his clothes were torn and bloodstained. Unhindered by his defeated look, he appeared to be in heavy thought. Suddenly, Captain Smith strolled out from hiding, and aside from a few smudges of soot, he was clean and unscathed. Not only did he have the audacity to congratulate his crew, but he also began to delegate commands.

Oliver quickly raised his bow to Captain Smith’s bulky chest and through clenched teeth he growled, “You hid like a spineless weasel while these men risked their lives, and I refuse to allow myself, or any one of these respectable men to take orders from a pompous coward like you. I think it is fair to say that this ship is under my command now, and unless you want an arrow through your chest, I suggest you get to mopping up this mess.”

Well aware of the brave stand that led the abandoned team to victory, the crewmen easily concurred to Oliver’s takeover. Willard Smith lowered his head and dwindled off to get the mop.

After the men congratulated Oliver for his bravery, one of them asked, “Captain Langston, what will we do with the prisoners?”

Looking over to the captive men who were cursing and kicking from their binds, I was relieved to see Pete and Marin the Marooner had survived. They were tied up next to a man with a long dark braid, the treasonous Doctor Harvey who had surrendered early on, a band of musicians who said they were taken by force, and a few other men that claimed to be taken prisoner from the governor’s
Poseidon
.

Captain Langston surveyed the grumbling group and answered, “They will be stowed away in the cells below, and their wounds will be mended after our own crew’s needs are met.”

Doctor Reedy clenched in disgust. It seemed that no matter where his life led him, he would be tending to the wounds of the blasted buccaneers. As for Doctor Harvey, he nearly whimpered while pleading his false case, “Captain, may I request to be untied to help with the mending? I am a doctor and these ravaging buccaneers took me as their hostage.”

Faron’s crew gawked at his tale, and Pete squirmed in his binds to kick at the doctor. “Ye bloody lying pirate.”

Captain Langston informed Doctor Harvey that Doctor Reedy had reported against his crimes, but out of necessity he allowed him to participate in the mending of the injured.

Paul Redding returned to report on his findings below deck and was jolly to account for the hefty ration of Spanish gold stored in the hold. Oliver offered to pay Captain Handlin a fair portion of the find. The buccaneers were delivered to the brig, while the captives from the
Poseidon
and the frightened musicians were kept chained on the deck in case they had been lying about their hostage situation like the doctor. The doctors got to work healing the injured men, and the rest of the crew cleaned the deck and wrapped the bodies.

Once the cleanup was completed, Captain Langston called for Charlie Bentley. What the hell did he want from me? With no other choice I walked in his direction, but my heart was beating so high in my throat, I thought I might choke on it.

As I neared the captain he raised my hand before the crew and announced me as the man who had captured the navigator. The crew cheered for my accomplishment and I humbly nodded my head while attempting to simmer the flush on my cheeks.

He then awarded Paul Redding for cornering Captain Flynn, and then called upon a few others who had performed honorably in battle. I was relieved to hear the ceremony come to its end without anyone mentioning the murder of Dedrick Morley, but of course he had to ask, “Is anybody sure of who took down the captain?”

The men bustled in concern over the matter, and a few of them confirmed that Captain Flynn hollered that Charlie shot him. All the men looked at me, and my cursed cheeks flushed again. The last thing I wanted was attention. I felt the ship wobbling over the tide as I spoke in a quiet and insecure version of my manly voice. “Yes, it was me.”

Captain Langston raised my hand again and commended me for conquering the two most valuable captures of the mission. After acclaiming my good deeds, he asked if I would be his first mate. Thinking the fame would cast me in a more prominent light and risk my disguise, I attempted to back out. “But I am just a humble deckhand, Captain Langston.”