The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1) Page 25

  No one responded.

  “Who. Is. Your. Captain?”

  The air on the road stopped moving as if pausing to listen. A bell clanged in the distance. Even the laughter subsided as everyone near the dock waited for an answer.

  “I’ll ask but one more time. Who in the bloody blazes is your captain?”

  The wind died down. The bell stopped clanging. The air around them smelled of salt and blood. In the moonlit night, the shadows waited.

  Drake pulled his sword and placed the tip at the indentation on Quinn’s neck. “You’ll die first, boy, unless you take this last chance to tell me: Who the bloody hell is your captain?”

  “I am,” came a voice from the bow of Drake’s ship, speaking clearly in Latin. “I believe I am the one ya’ve been searching fer.”

  In synchronicity, all heads looked up at the bow of the Judith. There stood Grace O’Malley and a dozen or more of her crew leaning over the railing with bows drawn.

  Quinn shot a look over at Drake, who stood there, slack-jawed like the rest of them.

  “It would appear, young and foppish Francis, that we both have somethin’ the other wants.” Grace keened her elbow on her knee. I have yer ship... again... and ya have some a’ my crew... again. It would appear a parlay is in order.”

  “You!” Drake snarled, glaring up at her. “You fucking bitch!”

  Grace O’Malley tossed her head back and laughed heartily. “Don’t be so surprised, Francis. Did ya think ya could escape me that easily?” She waved her hand in the air. “Of course ya did. Like others before ya, ya’ve underestimated me and my crew. Time and time again, men like ya have disrespected the Queen a’ Connacht, and right now she’s standin’ aboard yer ship wonderin’ whether or not those men ya’ve been playin’ with are worth tradin’ this ship fer. So... what is it goin’ ta be? A parlay, or do I burn another one a’ yer ships ta the ground?”

  Drake looked at the crowd before glaring back up at Grace. “You do that and your four men here are dead.” Drake nodded to his men, and those who had sword belts still on withdrew their swords. The two with muskets swung them around toward the ship.

  “Ya might kill my men, Francis, but I can guarantee ya’ll lose more than four and yer ship. I can do without those four, but can ya really go back ta Elizabeth and tell her ya’ve lost yet another ship ta Captain Grace O’Malley? Because believe me when I say this, I shall send a dispatch first ta Mary a’ Scotland and then on ta England ta let everraone know how expensive ya’ve become ta yer queen. I imagine she’ll stop fundin’ yer little expeditions once she gets wind a’ how careless ya’ve been... and who ya’ve been tradin’ with. I’m bettin’ she doesn’t know about yer little slave business.”

  Drake spat on the ground and raised his sword toward Quinn. “You would trade the lives of your men in order to destroy my ship? What kind of monster are you?”

  “The kind who sacrifices fer the greater good—and the greater good is fer ya ta be away from Ireland and off my seas.”

  “Your seas? You give yourself far too much credit, lady pirate.”

  “And ya give me not nearly enough.”

  Suddenly, from the darkness all around the pier came the rest of the Malendroke crew, including the four-dozen slaves. Surrounding the crowd, the nearly three hundred men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blades, muskets, and bows drawn toward Drake and his men.

  A slow smile crept onto Quinn’s face.

  “I’m sure a parlay is sounding verra good ta ya right about now, Francis. So what will it be? Do we cut ya down like a stray cur on the streets, or do ya do the wise thing and have a parlay with the lady captain who has bested ya twice now?”

  Francis Drake slowly surveyed the crew surrounding his men as he calculated the slim chances of success. Then he motioned for his men to keep their swords up. “Parley it is.”

  Grace grinned. “Yer not as dumb as ya look, Francis. Come aboard. Alone.”

  His men muttered loudly, and Drake held up his hand. “Fine. I’ll come alone... on one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “That you stop calling me Francis.”

  ***

  While the parlay went on, Quinn gathered the men together, making sure they all stood back to back. “Nobody do ennathing stupid,” she said softly. “Captain O’Malley will get us out of here.”

  “What the bloody hell?” O’Leary said. “Where did she come from?”

  Quinn could only surmise that Grace had not been very far behind them and that she was the reason the Victory galleon had vanished from sight. How she managed to get the slaves to assist her was beyond Quinn, and it was evident by the way they stepped back that Drake’s men feared them the most.

  “We’ll find that out later. In the event the parlay goes poorly, we must attack from within the circle, never breaking our connection.”

  “Ya don’t really think Drake has a choice, do ya?”

  “Not even remotely. She has him by the ball sack, and if he knows ennathing about Captain O’Malley, it’s that she’s a woman of her word. She’ll set that whole ship ablaze before he can even draw a sword.”

  “I just want back on a ship,” One Eye bemoaned. “Me and land don’t like each other.”

  No sooner had he spoken than the Malendroke sailed into the bay, the small galleon right behind her.

  “Why’d she keep that galleon?” O’Leary wondered aloud.

  The crowd silenced a bit at seeing Grace’s ship, and O’Leary got his answer.

  Deftly maneuvering the smaller galley directly behind Drake’s, Connor and the few who remained lowered themselves into the water and swam over to the Malendroke, bobbing gently off the starboard side of Drake’s ship.

  “She’s blocking his ship,” Tavish said with a grin. “That captain a’ yers is crazy smart.”

  “Aye,” One Eye said. “That she is. Sometimes just plain crazy, but ya didn’t hear that from me lips.”

  The parlay did not take long, and when Drake finally reappeared, his earlier cocksure demeanor was all but gone. “Let them pass,” he commanded, waving his hand in the air toward Quinn and the others.

  The circle opened but no one lowered their weapons.

  “Weapons, Drake!” Grace yelled. “Now, or I’ll run ya all through.”

  “Put your weapons away,” he ordered, then, under his breath, said, “Fucking bitch.”

  When the only weapons remaining out in the circle belonged to Quinn’s and the other three, Quinn strode, head high, through the opening and to the ring of men surrounding them.

  Her men.

  Their men.

  “Be off!” Captain O’Malley shouted down to Drake, who motioned for his crew to head up the road. “And be grateful I did not go on a murderous rampage... ya know... how a woman might act?

  “But Captain––” a crew member said from the deck. “Oughtn’t we kill them all now?”

  “The next man who utters a word will lose his head. Now, start movin’, Drake.”

  When the last of Drake’s men disappeared out of sight down the road leading out of town, Quinn turned and looked up at Grace. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me, Callaghan, just get yer arses over ta our ship, and let’s get the bloody hell outta here.”

  Quinn turned back to the slaves. “What about them?”

  “They’re coming with us. And before ya ask another question and further irritate me, get movin’ ta our ship before I change my mind and leave the lot a’ ya here.”

  An hour later, with everyone, including the slaves, on board, the Malendroke set sail.

  “Callaghan!” Innis shouted. “Captain’s quarters. Now!”

  Fitz chuckled. “Seems everra time I turn around, yer gettin’ called out ta the captain’s office. Yer nothin’ but a troublemaker, Callaghan.”

  Quinn punched him in the arm before scurrying to Grace’s cabin, where two shots of the captain’s best whiskey sat on the small table.

  Captain O’Mal
ley surprised Quinn by closing the door and wrapping her up in her arms, hugging her so hard Quinn’s feet lifted off the floor.

  “Seems yer makin’ a habit a’ savin’ my men, savin’ my crew. I knew I’d made the right choice when I picked ya fer the task. Well met, Callaghan, well met.”

  When Quinn’s feet were back on the ground, she straightened her clothes and blushed. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “Caught a tail wind right after I whipped her ’round that bastard’s ship. He was expectin’ me ta turn tail and run, so he blew right on by us, and we turned her about. By the time he knew what was what, we were outta sight and worked our arses off ta catch up with ya.”

  “I can see that.”

  Grace handed a whiskey to Quinn and held hers to it. “Ta another day and another way.” Grace downed hers. “Ya made fine time yerself. I was afraid the oarsmen might not row hard enough or fast enough ta get ya outta harm’s way, but apparently ya made fast friends with one a’ those slaves.”

  “Kwame,” Quinn said.

  “The light one, right? The one in the front?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Ya disobeyed my orders, Callaghan. Why in the bloody hell would ya do that?”

  “I won’t kill unarmed men who pose no threat to us, sir. Not even for you.”

  Grace tilted her head this way and that. “Imagine my surprise when I saw those slaves—and then come ta find out they all remained, everra last one a’ them.” Grace poured two more whiskeys. “And do ya know why? Do ya know why they stayed when they should’ve run? They stayed because a’ ya.”

  Quinn paused her drink in midair. “Me, sir?”

  Grace tossed hers back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Aye. Connor said that Kwame fellow started speakin’ that African gibberish ta the others, who all listened, nodded, and then stayed. Fer ya.”

  “How do you know they stayed for me? Maybe they––”

  Grave chuckled. “Kwame told Connor. Walked right up ta him and said... let’s see... how did he put it? Said ya were someone worth fightin’ fer. Imagine that.”

  “Their numbers were impressive.”

  “The English fear them more than they understand them. The tide shifted in our favor by havin’ so many surround Drake’s men. Spooked ’em mightily.”

  “How did you get aboard his ship?”

  “Swam.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows rose. “Truly?”

  “Only way ta get ta it unseen and unheard. We swam ta it, climbed up it, and took it over without havin’ ta fire a shot or slit enna throats. Ya should’ve seen the looks on their faces. I knew that once I had the bastard’s ship, whatever it was he was after would be mine. I had no idea what he wanted was yer blood on his sword. Arsehole.”

  “It must’ve taken everything in you not to kill him. He hates you to the bone, sir.”

  “And right back at him. Let him. Killin’ one a’ Elizabeth’s prize bulls would not be wise. I let him live because I know his secret.”

  “Well, sir, it was definitely checkmate.”

  Grace nodded. “I just wanted ta thank ya fer takin’ good care a’ my boys. It was dicey there fer a minute, but ya kept a calm head about ya.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And I take care a’ those who take care a’ mine. During the parlay, I squeezed Drake fer information about that coin a’ yers.”

  Quinn perked up and leaned forward.

  “And I’ll tell ya everrathin’ I learned as soon as I return from the wheel.” Opening the door, Grace turned, her hand resting on the door. “But tell me... who killed the Englishman? Drake’s mate?”

  Quinn exhaled. “I did.”

  Grace smiled. “Good fer ya, Callaghan. That’s exactly what I was hopin’ ya’d say.”

  ***

  Grace has finally told me what information she got out of Drake. From the Portuguese, he secured slaves, which he then sold to other captains. One of those captains was none other than the son of Turgut Reis, the infamous privateer from Turkey––where we are currently headed.

  I didn’t know a thing about this pirate, but believe me, the fellows filled me in in no time.

  Turgut Reis, known to most of the crew as Dragut, is one of the Ottoman Empire’s most prolific pirates. Two years ago, he took a fleet of sixty ships to attack Cariati, Italy, which he sacked, killing many innocent Italians. He has attacked both Italian and Spanish coastlines, successfully claiming many port cities for the Ottomans. The man is known for his love of the finest things and has been known to sail a week out of his way to purchase or steal an exotic animal, a casket of wine, or a woman.

  If what Drake told Captain O’Malley is true, it is Dragut who has Shea—and he will soon be picking up cargo in Morocco.

  According to Drake, Dragut landed in Ireland on his way back to Tripoli to repel advances made by the Knights of Malta. Grace surmises that it was then that Dragut took Shea.

  Dragut and Drake have found common enemies in the Italians and Spanish, and so Drake agreed to provide him with slaves for his ships in exchange for the Medusa coins he was funneling back to England.

  It all made sense, but I was surprised he was so forthcoming with Grace.

  Then she laughed and told me he wasn’t. She put the pieces together and bluffed him into oversharing what he knew, thinking that she was already aware of it anyway. Besides, Grace said, Drake relished the idea of sending Grace and her crew to a madman like Dragut. Drake is a coward, and if some other pirate could finish Grace off, he was just fine with that.

  If she ever finds him near our coastline again, she will send a missive to Elizabeth about his side dealings and see where that will leave him.

  In the end, he gave her more than she needed to know. We were all surprised she let him live, but apparently there is a pirate code for the parlay. Grace could not, under such a code, take his life... even the life of a man she hated.

  ***

  “Yer captain is mighty proud a’ ya, laddie,” Tavish said softly from behind Quinn’s right shoulder.

  She marveled at how such a block of a man could approach so quietly.

  “I didn’t do anything she wouldn’t have done, but thank you.”

  “I beg ta differ. She wouldna pretend ta be somethin’ she is not. Ever. It isna in her nature.”

  Quinn ever so slowly turned to him. Something in his voice told her he was not speaking about her Portugal ruse of being a noblewoman. “Perhaps not, but sometimes, in this harsh world of ours, we must do what we must to forge our own way.”

  Tavish nodded once. “Aye. Truth ta that, laddie. We each walk our own path in this life. I just wanted ta thank ya fer all ya did ta save me. That crowd woulda kilt me fer sure.”

  As Tavish turned to leave, Quinn’s hand shot out and grabbed his hardened forearm. She leaned forward so her lips were inches from his ear. “You know, don’t you?

  Tavish pulled back slightly and locked his eyes with her. A few moments plodded by before he said, “What I know is that ya are loyal, brave, and someone I’d trust ta have me back no matter where we were or what we were doin’. And that, laddie, is all I ever need ta know.”

  With that, Tavish disappeared below deck, leaving Quinn alone once more with her thoughts of the conversation she’d had with Captain O’Malley.

  “Well, it was confirmed by my mate that it was, indeed Dragut who snagged yer friend, and I don’t have ta tell ya what that means,” Grace had told Quinn.

  “How did he know it was Shea?”

  “He saw her. Said she was beautiful and exactly the kind a’ woman Dragut is known fer havin’. Lighter skin and by his side like his bedmate more than a slave. He called her by name. Well... he said it started with an sh sound. The good news is that this means he’s probably not sold her off, nor is he likely to. The man likes the finer things.”

  “If he has her, Captain, then that is where I must go.”

  “Not yet, Callaghan, and not alone. We are heading
ta Morocco ta release the slaves there and see if we can’t catch up ta Dragut.”

  “But the slaves––”

  “Will manage. They are free, and that means somethin’ ta them. We will drop ’em off all along the coast in twos and threes. Yer friend Kwame has been instrumental in communicatin’ their wishes. It appears I am not the only one indebted ta ya, Callaghan. I must say, ya got a way with people.”

  And so they were finally preparing to enter the seas of one of the most bloodthirsty pirate captains to sail these waters. Captain Grace O’Malley, as fearless in her approach to life as in her captaining, believed that she and Dragut could strike a bargain for the return of Shea, and she said as much to Quinn.

  “And if we can’t?” Quinn had asked. “If he won’t let her go?”

  Captain O’Malley had shrugged and grinned. “Then we shall take her by force.”

  Quinn could only hope it didn’t come to that.

  ***

  We are sailing to that strange and foreign land of Morocco, where Dragut is expected to be, and I’ve no idea how Captain O’Malley intends to proceed once we get there.

  It has been an interesting trip from Portugal. I suddenly find myself held in higher esteem by the crew. I suppose they are grateful for my actions, but it is an odd feeling to be so well liked by men who kill and plunder for a living. Although I can tell he still resents me quite a bit, even Innis looks upon me now as though we are equals. I quite enjoy that. At least he has stopped mooning over me. I do believe Innis is the man version of me, and my heart goes out to him. I know just how hard a road that is.

  For their part, Fitz, O’Leary, and One Eye have regaled the crew over and over about our experience, with the story growing each time it is told as if it has a life of its own. Tavish, however, never speaks of it, but watches quietly as they blather on. He is an interesting bloke. He watches over me as if his life depended on it. I am getting used to it, I suppose. There are certain advantages to having a mate who can knock people out. He has really taken to the sea, and the men now treat him like he is one of us.