Dead Man's Chest (The Plundered Chronicles Book 5) Page 14

  “I hope so, Captain. I hope so.”

  Once Quinn explained to Wabi where the ship was, he told her the fastest way to reach them would be to paddle around the northern tip of the island and make a water approach.

  What Quinn saw the moment they rounded the island’s ben filled her with panic and fear.

  The Emerald was on fire.

  “No. No, no, no,” she cried, digging in with her paddle.

  “Croatoans hate ships,” Wabi said. Your men…”

  “Shut up. I won’t hear that. Not yet. Paddle harder!” Quinn’s aching arms speared the water with her oar and pulled it back with more strength than she thought she had. “Pull, goddamn it!” Tears filled her eyes as she methodically rowed harder and harder.

  The dugout was clipping along now, and she could barely make out sounds. Were those voices she heard? She couldn’t tell over the pounding of her heart or the fear gathering in her throat.

  “I see white men!” Wabi said.

  Quinn couldn’t see anything but the red-orange flames now engulfing the masts.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Wabi is Sees All, remember? Eyes like hawk. Some white men live.”

  “Are they fighting?”

  “No. Carry other white men to shore.”

  Quinn pulled the oar in her lap and slid out her telescope. Her heart banged in her chest as she spotted a number of her men coming out of the water half-carrying, half-dragging other crew members with them.

  Swinging the scope to the west, her breath caught. Bearing down on them were hundreds of natives.

  Hundreds.

  “So many. Too many.” Swinging the scope back to the ship, Quinn watched helplessly as the sails also went up in flames.

  Frantically, she searched for any signs of Gallagher or Kaylish—for any signs of life on the ship. She could not see anyone alive on the deck. Some bodies floated in the water, but she could not tell who they were.

  “Over there!” Wabi said from behind. “Quick! Before they see us.”

  Quinn dropped her telescope back inside her vest and jammed her oar back into the water.

  She could clearly make out voices now—Gaelic voices yelling at each other. Some were screaming.

  Then she heard his voice.

  Tavish.

  And hope filled her now, almost completely, as she leapt from the dugout, waist deep in water, and pulled it to shore. “I have to get to my men.”

  Wabi grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind an outcropping of rocks. “No. They surround with bows and arrows first.”

  “I have to help.”

  “Not from here.” He pointed to the tree line. “Back there.”

  Quinn nodded in agreement. “Doesn’t feel right leaving them to fight without me.”

  “They will die with you. For you.”

  That much was true. If they could divide the Croatoans’ attention, it would give her crew a fighting chance. That was all they needed. A chance.

  She had no idea how many she’d lost or how many were able to fight. Not that it mattered. They would have to fight no matter what.

  As she and Wabi scooted around the rocks and to the woods, she could hear Tavish and Fitz shouting orders. They were trying to regroup from whatever disaster had happened.

  The sounds of the Emerald dying broke her heart but not more than those made by her men as they struggled to come together to fight a foe they knew nothing of.

  “Wabi, our attack must be precise and exact. We have to hit them hard and fast.”

  He nodded. “Wabi hard and fast, Captain. You’ll see. Good fighter like you.”

  They stood behind two trees peering at the backs of the Croatoans as they started moving toward the shore.

  “Ready?”

  Wabi nodded as he notched an arrow.

  “You shoot that direction. I’ll attack the other side of the line. When they turn to shoot at me, protect me for as long as you can.”

  He nodded. “But Captain… they will kill you.”

  “I imagine they might, but I have to give my crew a chance. A real chance.”

  “Then we must fight right now.”

  Pulling both swords, Quinn took a deep breath. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go!” Peeling around the tree trunk, Quinn sprinted as fast as she could toward the closest native, cutting him down with a blow to his knees.

  Before the next native could react, she threw her short sword at him. It embedded right in his chest.

  As she ran by him toward the third man, she pulled the sword out, took five more steps, slid feet first, and cut the lower left leg off the native, who fell, screaming.

  When Quinn popped up to her feet, the fourth native armed his bow at her and released.

  It missed her by a fair margin. She took three more steps before slashing him across the face.

  More arrows whizzed by her, thudding into their targets as Quinn wheeled and whirled, slicing and hacking the next in line.

  Wabi managed to stay far enough ahead of her, but she knew he would soon run out of arrows, leaving her on her own.

  As she slashed and stabbed through the next three, Quinn heard someone call out, “It’s the captain! Look! Captain Callaghan lives!”

  As Quinn hacked at another enemy, she looked up in time to see the arrow leave a bow and imbed in her arm.

  It didn’t slow her down.

  Emboldened by a return of fire that scattered the natives, Quinn ignored the arrow and continued whacking away at her adversary, disregarding any pain.

  As the natives reached for axes and started a war cry the likes of which Quinn had never heard, she glanced over to the shore and saw her men making their way toward her, with Tavish in the lead.

  “Keep swingin’, lad! We’re comin’ to get ya!”

  Quinn returned her attention to the natives, her bloody swords biting into flesh, breaking wooden bows, chopping off limbs, slicing throats. One attacker threw his ax at her. She managed to get her longsword up in time to deflect it, but she knew she had very little time left to fight if Tavish and her men couldn’t reach her.

  “Captain!”

  Glancing up, Quinn saw a Croatoan running at Wabi, who had no arrows left.

  End over end, her short sword flew, hitting the native with the hilt and careening away. The native turned toward Quinn just long enough for Wabi to plunge a knife into his neck.

  Picking up Quinn’s sword, Wabi chucked it back to Quinn, who caught it before cutting down another native.

  She did not see the native behind her as he left the ground, tackling Quinn from behind.

  As they tumbled to the ground, Quinn let out a howl when the arrow in her arm snapped off.

  The native landed on top of her and punched her in the arm.

  For a moment, Quinn thought she might faint.

  As the native raised his ax to bring it down on Quinn’s head, an arrow pierced his neck and he fell backwards, dead.

  Scrambling to her feet, she nodded to Wabi, who had picked up one of the Croatoan bows and used it to save her.

  As the crew continued climbing from the rocky waters and onto shore, each man took up his arms and joined the fray.

  “Where’s Gallagher?” Quinn yelled to Tavish, who was now twenty-five yards away.

  “Don’t ken! It was confusing!”

  “Tight quarters!” Quinn yelled to her men. “Keep our backs in and swords up!”

  Wabi tugged at Quinn’s shoulders. “They will retreat to use bows.”

  Quinn shouted for her bowmen to get to higher ground.

  There was mayhem all around as the natives kept whooping war cries and trying to get away from the sailors who now numbered more than the natives, but not much more.

  Frantically, Quinn looked for Gallagher and Kaylish among the chaos. “Maggie?”

  “Have not seen her, lad!” Tavish yelled. “I wouldna mess with my wife. That woman can take care of herself quite well.”

 
Quinn knew his words were just that. He was as worried as she was.

  When many of the natives had retreated far enough to use their bows, Quinn ordered her men to return to shore behind the rock formations.

  As they made a run for it, arrows landed all around them, occasionally penetrating flesh.

  Quinn now wheeled around, both swords in her hands, prepared to defend her men… her brave and loyal crew. Her family.

  Metal flashing, she could feel the heat from the burning ship on her back. “Get behind the rocks!” she yelled, seeing native after native fall to an Irish arrow.

  Quinn turned to Wabi. “Wabi, take the men back around the way we came!”

  Fitz, bleeding from a gash on his face, ran up to her. “He’s… he’s… one of them!”

  “Trust him, Fitz. I do. Now go!”

  The crew scuttled around the rocks and drew some fire, but not enough to cause any damage.

  With her men moving out, Quinn pivoted the other direction when she saw a giant of a man emerge from the smoke hovering around the surf. Over one shoulder, he carried the lifeless body of Gallagher. In his arms, he carried Maggie, also unmoving.

  One native ran toward Arracht, screaming, two axes in his hands.

  Arracht, his hands full, could do little to protect himself.

  “Over here!” Quinn yelled, but the attacker kept running toward them.

  Another native joined the first, bow out and arrow drawn.

  Quinn let her sword fly.

  She missed.

  Arracht, holding Maggie in one arm, pulled Gallagher from his shoulder and set both of them on the shore, turning his back, shielding them both from the natives.

  “No!” Quinn yelled when the first arrow flew in an arc and pierced Arracht’s left hip.

  Quinn was now running toward the archer, even as the first attacker neared Arracht.

  As her feet left the ground, Quinn could see out of the corner of her eye the ax wielder bearing down on Arracht.

  As her long sword skewered the archer, she landed, rolled on her shoulder, and jumped to her feet in time to see a second and third arrow pierce Arracht as he used his body as a shield to protect Gallagher and Maggie.

  There was a second bowman, who fired one more arrow before Tavish bowled him over and broke his neck.

  But nothing could stop the ax-wielding native as he yelped with glee.

  Until an arrow went through his neck, knocking him off his feet.

  Grabbing her swords, Quinn ran by the native, stabbing him as she did, as she raced to get to a very wounded Arracht, who still managed to stand as a shield.

  As Arracht wavered, Quinn helped him to the ground before kneeling down and checking to see if Gallagher and Maggie were alive.

  “Callaghan…” Maggie moaned, trying to sit up. “How is—”

  “Gallagher is… well… she’s here. Where is Kaylish?”

  Before Maggie could respond, the crew came running back.

  “What are you doing?” Quinn asked Tavish.

  Tavish grabbed Quinn roughly and pointed to the woods. “Hundreds more comin’, lad.”

  “Hundreds?” Quinn could see the shadows of those natives coming through the woods.

  There were too many and no place for her crew to go. Hundreds would kill them all.

  Reunited with Maggie, Tavish hugged his wife before picking Gallagher up. “We managed to drop one boat in the water before all hell broke loose. I suggest puttin’ Gallagher and Maggie in it.”

  “Where’s Jacob?”

  Tavish shook his head. “No idea, and no time to find him.”

  “I’ll not leave without you,” Maggie said tersely.

  Quinn grabbed Maggie by the shoulders. “She is going to need you, Maggie.” Turning to Wabi, Quinn said, “Can you get them back to the colony?”

  Wabi nodded. “Anyone else?”

  Quinn looked at Tavish, who shook his head. “Not me, lad, and no one else, either. Get them out of here. We’ll take out as many as we can.” Kissing his wife, Tavish gazed intently into her eyes. “I love ya, my wife, with everra bone in my body, but that little girl needs ya more than I.”

  “Oh hush, ya silly old fool. I never expected ya to leave Callaghan.”

  Arracht moaned and tried to roll over.

  “I love ya, Tavish McGee, with all my heart. Ya come find me when you all make it outta this.” Maggie kissed him before trying to pick Gallagher up.

  “No.” Quinn glanced around. “One Eye. I want you to go with them.”

  One Eye opened his mouth, but Tavish grabbed him and shoved him toward Maggie. It’s not a request, lad. Get in the fookin’ boat and save my wife and the captain’s niece.”

  Quinn kissed Gallagher’s head before One Eye picked Gallagher up and started for the water.

  “Lad?”

  “Do not say it,” Quinn said. “We’re not doing that.” Climbing on the rock, Quinn surveyed the expanse of natives coming for them.

  Turning to her men, she motioned for them to crowd around her. These were her friends…her family. They meant everything to her. Everything. “All right, fellas, this is it. We’ve got no ship, no escape route, no weapons, no chance of rescue, and no other option but to take as many of them to their death as we can.”

  “There’s a whole lotta them reddies,” Fitz said. “More than we everra faced.”

  “Are we Irish pirates or what?” Quinn asked. While her voice was strong, her heart felt hopelessness begin to set in. These natives were not the English, not the Spaniards. They were a people she knew nothing about. She had no idea how they fought, what they thought, or they even employed any strategy.

  The men cheered.

  “Then let’s do what we do best, fellas, and wait for them to get close enough. Then we fight the only way we know how.”

  “To the death?”

  “Aye!” Quinn said, raising her sword. “Leave their blood on the sand, fellas. This is for the Emerald!”

  The ship had almost completely sunk, but it had been their home, and now, they had nothing left to fight for except their lives.

  Standing next to Tavish as she had done so many times before, Quinn knew this would be the last time.

  “Ready, old man?”

  “Before I meet my end, lad, what happened to ya? Where ya been?”

  Quinn quickly told him about Tadita and the colony.

  “So that’s where ya sent ’em?”

  “Aye.”

  “Bless ya, lad. And thank ya fer the best ten years of my life.”

  Peeking over the rocks, Quinn estimated they had thirty seconds left before a bloodbath ensued.

  “Fellas, it’s been an honor sailin’ with you,” Quinn said, holding up her sword. “We fight together to the end.”

  “To the end!” they all cried.

  “We wait until they get in within sword distance, then let loose, and don’t stop swingin’. Don’t ever stop swingin’.” Quinn took one last look at Tavish. “Did you… did you happen to see if Kaylish made it off the ship?”

  Tavish shook his head. “Last time I saw her, she handed Gallagher to Arracht, who tossed the wee thing overboard. The natives set the ship on fire with flamin’ arrows. We couldn’t get the fires out fast enough. We did everra thing we could to save the ship, lad. We came back to the ship when they first attacked and we lost ya. We tried getting outta the harbor, but those bastards were shooting those arrows at her, and we went up pretty quickly. We couldn’t fight the fire and get the ship movin’.”

  Fitz leaned in. “Speakin’ of movin’, why aren’t they on us yet?”

  Quinn peered over the rock and saw the natives standing there, looking at something behind the pirates. Quinn slowly turned to see what they were staring at.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Quinn saw a ship paralleling the coastline.

  “Captain, look!”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Tavish uttered. “The goddamned Portuguese.”

  Before anyone coul
d say a thing, the Portuguese fired eight of her starboard cannons.

  “Get down!” Quinn yelled.

  Her crew ducked against the rocks as the eight cannon balls sailed over the rocks, landing at the feet of the natives, kicking up dirt, killing a couple, and scattering the rest.

  “Hold your positions, men! If they shoot another round, follow it up and draw as much blood as you can!”

  Quinn knelt down between Fitz and Tavish. “Looks like the goddess favors us after all.”

  The cannons fired once more. Eight booming sounds that sent more cannon balls overhead.

  “Attack!” Quinn yelled, charging over the rocks at the natives who, in their confusion, ran in all directions. “Keep after them, men! Give no quarter!”

  She and her crew came out hacking and slashing, rushing at any native not fast enough to draw down on them or beat a hasty retreat.

  Quinn cut down three when she heard them make that horrific battle cry once more.

  It was to no avail, as her men chased them back into the woods.

  “Captain?”

  Quinn looked at Fitz and followed his gaze.

  The Portuguese ship had stopped moving.

  “To the ship, fellas!” Quinn yelled. “Get to the ship!”

  Her men finished off their individual quarrels before hightailing it as fast as they could to the water.

  Six months ago, Quinn made sure every single crew member had been taught to swim—something not all the men on Grace’s ship knew how to do. She was grateful to have thought of it back then, or many of her men would die trying to get to the ship.

  As they retreated back to the water, Quinn stopped at each fallen Irishman to make sure he was no longer alive.

  “Come on, lad!” Tavish said, pushing her along.

  Quinn stumbled, her face inches from Peter, a relatively new crewman. His open, lifeless eyes stared back at her, an arrow protruding from his temple.

  Yanking her to her feet, Tavish shoved her forward. “Keep movin’, ya dim-witted good fer nothin’s!”

  When they reached the water, Quinn grabbed Tavish by the arm. “Make sure everra one gets on the ship.”

  “Not without—”

  “It’s not a suggestion, Tavish. Get them to safety.”

  Tavish hesitated a moment. Then, he nodded and started yelling at the men to get to the ship.