The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1) Page 26

  On a different note, I cannot stop my thoughts from meandering to Fiona. I miss her so much, I ache. I wonder what she is thinking... what she is feeling. I wonder if, when she looks at the moon, she is thinking about where I am. I wonder so much now, as I near the goal of this whole charade.

  I have never felt such a pull as this, and if I hadn’t been keeping my promise to Shea, I might have...

  Yes.

  Might have what?

  Told Fiona all of my truths? Shared with her my secrets? And what then? Would she discard me and cast me out, or would she embrace me, never caring that I am not what I appear to be?

  Ah, appearance.

  There are two whose eyes take me in as if they know the truth: Kwame and Tavish.

  Tavish knows. I am certain of it, but he has made it clear that he cares not, and I do not think he is interested in revealing the truth to anyone. For that, I am grateful. Surprised, but grateful.

  Then there is Kwame.

  What an interesting young man Kwame has turned out to be. He is bright, articulate, and apparently quite an astute chess player. He is unlike the other slaves, who babble away in a tongue filled with clicks and pops. The crew often stares in amusement as these young men jabber amongst themselves. I rather like them.

  Well... those of the same region jabber. I had no idea there were so many languages on the Dark Continent and was quite surprised to learn they do not understand each other’s native tongues. Kwame explained to me many things about Africa I did not know. I find him to be a fascinating person.

  Person.

  It is strange to see how differently men interact with him. Some men avoid him altogether. Others just stare. Still others, like Tavish, act like they normally would. I think I like Tavish even more after seeing his kindness toward them.

  During one meal, Connor leaned over to me and told me what had happened when they moved the galleon from the bay. When the time came for the men to leave the ship, Kwame asked if they could be of service. Connor said he was stunned by the offer until Kwame explained, “The boyish one who does not shave? Callaghan? If he is in trouble, we offer our best selves.”

  Best selves.

  I liked that.

  I liked that, and I like them. As different as they are from us, there is a strength about them that I admire. They walk with their heads held high, even though many have had their backs bent by the whip. They are courageous and inspiring.

  And they sing the most beautiful songs at night.

  There were plenty of men on board who felt they should just be cut loose. Apparently, there were words, heated words, before Connor said it was his decision and that the slaves had offered and would join them in the surrounding of the English.

  Now, we have four and a half dozen African slaves we are freeing in Morocco, even though there are bound to be a good number of galleons in and around the area. Captain O’Malley plans on releasing them, but only after she has started some sort of plan to ensure their safety.

  She won’t tell us what that plan is. I just know that she is a great tracker, as it were. If she thinks Dragut is in Rabat, then that’s where he is.

  And by this time tomorrow, I will be that much closer to finding Shea.

  And then we are going home.

  Home.

  I am no longer certain where that is any more.

  ***

  All hands were on deck when the Malendroke sailed along the coast of Morocco. Most of the men had never seen it before. Grace O’Malley seldom left the Celtic or Irish Seas, so Morocco was exotic, full of character, and exciting, with colorful silk flags flying on the dock marketplace, and bright tents lining the coast. There was unfamiliar music wafting out to sea, and

  the men stood quietly on deck as they glided by the vibrant coastal villages, soaking it all in.

  Quinn was gazing out at the foreign sight when she felt someone standing closer to her. She expected it to be Tavish.

  She was surprised to see it was Kwame.

  “It is beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Aye. Very different. Hotter. It is swelterin’ out here.”

  Kwame cocked his head.

  “Umm... verra, verra hot.” Quinn made a mental note to work harder at sounding like the rest of the men. Thus far, she had been unsuccessful in maintaining a consistent dialect such as the ones they all used.

  He nodded. “You... are not like the others. You seem... smarter.”

  Quinn turned back to the view of the coastline. Even a foreigner’s ear had been able to detect the difference. She mentally added Kwame to the ever-growing list of people she apparently could not deceive. “I was raised differently. I only recently became a crewmember here. I’m not quite as... rough as the others, but they have become my family nonetheless.”

  “They good family, then. They care about you. I hear men talking. They hold you high up.”

  Quinn tilted her head at him. “Your English is better than when we first met.”

  Kwame bowed his head. “I was not sure who to trust.”

  “Ah. You felt it was safer to act like a slave.”

  Kwame nodded. “It is what I have been doing the last six months.” He shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

  “What made you trust us?”

  Kwame glanced over his shoulder at the men standing on the bow. “Your people are not like the English... like Drake’s men. I had heard the Irish were barbaric. Stupid. You are not that.”

  “No, Kwame, we are not, which is why we are freeing your people here.”

  “My people. We are the same skin color, Callaghan, but these men––these slaves––are not my people. Do not make the same mistake as other white men. Just like Drake’s people are not your people, these beautiful people are not mine.”

  Quinn nodded. “I understand. So you won’t return to Africa.”

  “No. I am English. I have been a long time. It is all I know. Only my skin color says different.”

  “So, if you don’t go with them, where will you go?”

  Before Kwame could answer, Captain O’Malley called every man on deck to the wheel, where she stood at the top of the stairs looking down on her crew.

  “No captain alive is as proud of a crew as I am of this one,” she stated from the top of the stairs. “We escaped Diego Gonzalez’s capture, even while stealing his ship. We cornered that rat bastard Drake, and now we are nearing the port most known fer harboring Dragut, as bloodthirsty a bloke as we’ll ever face. ’Tis an honor ta be yer captain this day and everra day.”

  “’Tis an honor ta serve ya!” someone yelled from the back.

  Grace O’Malley grinned. “Say that again when we are on our way home, because we are now preparing ta engage a captain who has successfully taken on the Italians as well as the formidable Spaniards without suffering great losses.” Grace let the murmuring subside before continuing. “Dragut is not a terribly young man, but he is a verra shrewd negotiator. We’ve come here fer two reasons: first off, ta allow these poor souls, who have been ripped from their homes, a chance ta return ta them as the free men they are. Second, we’ve come ta find Callaghan’s best mate, who was taken much like these fine men were and held as a slave. This man needs ta know that no Irishman will ever be a slave ta another man as long as we live and breathe. I will understand if there are enna a’ ya who would wish not ta be a part a’ this venture. Ya need only remain with the ship, and upon return home ya are free ta return ta yer families, no harm done. But we will rescue this Irish woman and enna others he might have taken from our lands.”

  The men looked around at each other before Connor finally spoke up. “Sir, enna captain would be hard pressed ta find a crew as loyal ta each other as yer own. If Callaghan’s best mate needs our assistance, ’tis the least we can do ta help out.”

  The men all cheered, banging their hilts on the side of the ship.

  And that was the decisive moment when Quinn Gallagher knew where her home was and who her family would now become. These me
n, all rough and rugged, were willing to go into a foreign land to face a man who was a ruthless killer—all for a woman they had never met.

  That was family.

  This ship, her home.

  Come what may, she would take Shea back to Ireland, but Quinn would not stay.

  She no longer belonged on the land.

  Innis raised his hand to quiet the men as Quinn waited warily. “As most a’ ya know, I was not a friend a’ Callaghan’s freshly cut mug when he first got here. I thought him incapable a’ protectin’ hisself or enna a’ us. I am happy ta say I was wrong. We are brothers on this ship, and if our captain asks us ta help one a’ our own, I say we do so without delay, without doubt.” To Quinn, he finished, “Innis McCoy has yer back, Callaghan, on this or enna other adventure.”

  Quinn’s mouth opened and closed mutely in surprise.

  The crowd roared and stomped until Captain O’Malley silenced them once more. “The Turks are not soft like the English. They are good, quick fighters with swords that can cut ours in half. They are treacherous, they fight like barbarians, and they do not ever give up. Ever. Do not underestimate the damage they are capable a’ inflictin’ or have already wrought. This is why I give ya all a chance ta remain on the Malendroke.”

  “Is there booty fer us?” a voice shouted out.

  “I won’t lie ta ya, fellas, there is probably none ta be had here, but ya can keep whatever we get on our way back home.”

  Then men reveled once more.

  “Callaghan has drawn a picture a’ his mate, Shea. Everraone leavin’ the ship will take a look at it before landing. Ya find her, ya do not try ta remove her or bring her back. Return ta the ship and ring the bell fer a count a’ seventy. Once the bell has rung, everra last one a’ ya scurrilous sea dogs better get yer arses back ta the dock. Do not return ta the ship. The dock will suffice. Enna questions?”

  Captain O’Malley answered a few questions before telling the crew to prepare for land. Then she pulled Quinn aside on the upper deck. “As a lover a’ beautiful things, Drake wished ta possess yer friend fer himself. Said he offered Dragut plenty ta keep her, but once Dragut saw her, he said no. He wanted her fer his own.” Grace shook her head. “Ownin’ other people is far worse a crime than piratin’. It makes me sick.”

  The word possess made Quinn blanch. “And since Drake can’t have her––”

  “He wishes Dragut not ta as well. It is the way with men. They believe, sadly enough, that ownership equates ta manhood. Drake knew tellin’ me the truth meant I’d go after Dragut, which is what that English bastard wants. He still underestimates me.”

  “And if he was lying?”

  “Then the man is a consummate actor. His face turned red, his forehead vein bulged, and his pupils shrunk ta nothing. Drake is not a man used ta hearing the word no. No, I believe Drake was rebuffed and believes he has sent someone ta upset Dragut’s apple cart so that Dragut, in turn, will try ta kill me. That’s how men like Drake operate: they let others do their dirty work. Cocksucker.”

  “I am surprised you did not kill him.”

  “Not during a parlay. Once men know ya canna be trusted at parlay, they will never have one with ya. Without me word, I am nothin’.”

  “Captain, I don’t want any of our men killed over this. Shea is my friend and my issue. Perhaps I ought to go it alone from here.”

  Captain O’Malley shook her head. “We shall retrieve yer friend without so much as drawin’ a single sword.” She lowered her voice and her head. “Always parlay somethin’ ya know the other side wishes ta have.” Straightening up, Grace yelled to the men to prepare to go ashore. Then, she turned back to Quinn. “Take yer drawin’ ta the plank and show everra man leavin’ the ship. When all those going ashore are off the boat, ya and I will pay Dragut a little visit.

  “Just us?”

  “Aye. Just us.”

  ***

  When half the crew and the Africans left the ship, Quinn waited for the captain to join her. To her surprise, the last man to leave was Kwame.

  “My ‘people’ wish to thank you for setting them free.” Opening his large hand, he showed Quinn a bracelet made up of some sort of coarse threads. “It is from the manes of zebra and giraffe. The tooth is from a lion that one of the men killed. They wish for you to have it for your courage and for your help to the African people.”

  Quinn looked down into his hand, up at Kwame, and back at the bracelet. “I... ”

  “To reject such a gift would be rude, Callaghan. You need not wear it, but––”

  “No. No. Of course I shall wear it. I am touched, is all.” Quinn held her wrist out for Kwame, who tied the bracelet on. “It’s love––uh—verra nice.”

  Kwame caught her eye, and for a second, she again thought he saw her for who she really was. “They will be pleased to know you wear it.”

  “With pride, Kwame.”

  “I wish you well, Callaghan.”

  When Kwame was walking away, Grace strode up to Quinn. “They respect and admire ya, Callaghan, and in this world, that’s as good a compliment as ya will ever get. Are ya ready?

  Quinn nodded. “Aye.” She looked up at Grace. “I’ve been thinking about what you said... about why you let Drake walk away.”

  “Killin’ him without provocation would only put Elizabeth on alert, and we don’t need her breathin’ down our necks. I hate that fop more than ya could know, Callaghan, but I have a code I have lived by since I was a little girl. I’ll not break that code fer the likes a’ that dandy.”

  “Makes sense. It just surprised me is all. I know how you hate him.”

  “Glad ta see I am still unpredictable.” Grace headed toward town. “Accordin’ ta Drake, Dragut’s ship is usually on the other side of town in a secondary harbor. It is easier ta protect, I would imagine.” Grace muttered something Quinn thought sounded like, “Rat bastard finally made it.”

  When they turned a corner, Quinn saw the masts of a large English galleon and paused. “Wait. Drake followed us?”

  “Of course he did. It is precisely what I would have done were I in his boots. He should be landed shortly. He wants ta be on hand ta see us get slaughtered.”

  “The weak act of a weak man.”

  “Aye. Those English are a soft breed compared ta the Turks. Not ta worry, Callaghan. Drake has no idea what he is steppin’ into.”

  Quinn felt a piece of dread flutter and land in her heart. Turks were not people you wanted for enemies, and their viciousness was well documented by those they’d defeated. Surely Grace wasn’t merely going to stroll over to the ship and ask to speak with Dragut.

  Was she?

  Quinn walked along side of Grace, struggling to keep up with her long stride.

  “Dragut will see us. On that ya can bet gold.”

  Quinn could only shake her head at Grace’s courage.

  The city of Rabat was, for lack of a better word, beige. Or tan. It seemed as if every building was the exact same color—a far cry from the other colorful coastal towns they’d passed along the way.

  When they finally docked, Grace quickly found someone to translate for her on their way to the second harbor. The people they encountered as they walked seemed happier than most and wore colorful scarves and light fabric clothing. They were darker than what Quinn was expecting; she found them to have beautiful skin and deep brown eyes that seemed happier and brighter than the city in which they lived.

  “It must be terribly hard,” Grace said as they walked through the tremendous heat of the bustling town.

  “What must be hard?”

  “Not bein’ yerself. Not bein’ able ta love who ya wish ta love.” Grace’s soft voice surprised Quinn, who was so used to hearing its gruffness.

  “Aye. It is far more difficult than I thought it would be. On one hand, I cannot be myself. On the other, I am exactly who I am, if that makes any sense.”

  Grace rewarded her with a loud laugh, causing those they passed by to stare. Most were al
ready staring at the tall woman with the flowing mane of red hair wearing men’s clothing, but the bark of laughter made most look twice. “Callaghan, I’m a woman wearing men’s pants and ordering them about in a voice not my own, ta which they reply, ‘Yes, sir.’ It makes perfect sense ta me. As a matter a’ fact, I might be the only one who can truly understand what yer goin’ through.”

  Quinn cocked her head. Grace was right. She was, quite possibly, the only person in the world who truly knew how she felt.

  “Have ya always loved women?” Grace asked, slowing to look at a beautiful dress hanging in the open market. It billowed in a way that made it look like a rainbow.

  “As far back as I can remember, yes.”

  “Can’t be an easy thing lovin’ forbidden fruit.”

  Quinn sighed. “Actually, it’s easier than you think.”

  “I meant because of how people will look down on it bein’ unnatural. How can love be ennathing but natural? I’ll never understand it.”

  “It is all I know... all I have felt since I was a little girl. I know of no other way to be.”

  “Ouch. Are ya sure yer not in love with this Shea?”

  Quinn chuckled. “Yes. I do love her, but not in that way. Of that, I am certain.”

  “So what will ya do once ya find her and bring her home?”

  That question had been plaguing Quinn for some time. “I suppose I have to consider restarting my life as a woman, though I do not believe I am truly capable of doing so. Not any longer.”

  Grace stopped walking. “Just like that? Go back ta petticoats and bustiers? Go back ta bein’ an invisible part of society? Go back ta bein’ told what ta do and not ta do? Ya disappoint me, Callaghan. I would have thought yer time on the Malendroke would have whetted yer thirst fer adventure.”

  “It has, Captain, more than I ever thought possible, but I can’t imagine trying to keep up this charade for years on end. It would be exhausting, not to mention unfulfilling and lonely. How long can I go on pretending I belong with these men? You said so yourself, they’ll never trust me once they find out. That... that would break my heart.”

  Grace chuffed. “Few would believe one could be lonely on a ship a’ two hundred, eh?” She stopped to smell an odd-looking fruit. Somewhere behind them, two women spoke in French instead of Berber. “But it can be verra lonely.” She turned to Quinn. “Whatever ya decide ta do, Callaghan, I’ll support, but I think ya oughtta know, the crew won’t just roll over and let ya leave. Yer kin ta them now, part a’ the Mal’s clan as it were. They willna let ya just disappear. Neither will I.”