Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 4

  That night, Quinn lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, they would be at the mouth of the Thames and inside enemy territory chasing after a woman she knew had only one goal in mind: to exact the release of her son and uncle.

  In that endeavor Grace would stop at nothing.

  And nothing is what she would end up with if she made it all the way to Queen Elizabeth. It was a fool’s mission, and Grace knew it.

  Grace.

  Now there was a woman who would stop at nothing. Only this time, this time, Grace was clearly well out of balance in seeking an audience with a queen who had sent her magistrates to bring Grace to heel––men who had killed one son already.

  One dead son and two years in jail hadn’t stopped Grace from her attacks on English ships. She had made quite an enemy of the English queen.

  And then there was Francis Drake, her arch nemesis. Where was he as Grace made her way toward London and a queen who relentlessly drew countries into the domain of the English crown?

  If Drake was around, Grace stood not a chance in hell. He would do more than throw her in the tower. He would make certain she never saw the light of day again.

  And deservedly so.

  The two of them had a feud that went as far back as Quinn could remember. Grace hated that man with a passion that would stir the dead.

  That’s why Quinn had brought Maggie. If Francis Drake’s ship intercepted the Malendroke, only one ship would live to sail another day. There would be casualties beyond all scope and measure. She would need Maggie if it came to a fight. Of that, she was certain.

  This was how Quinn knew Grace wasn’t thinking right. She was putting her skeletal crew at great risk all for two men. That wasn’t typically how Grace operated. She would have found a way to sneak herself in, but this? This was insanity. Risking her crew’s safety for her son was uncharacteristically irresponsible of her.

  As Quinn’s eyelids started to close, she thought about her choice of coming for Grace over helping Fiona. As much as she loved Fiona, her life, her mistress truly was the sea, and the goddess of that sea was Grace O’Malley. She couldn’t carry guilt around, not aiding a woman who was her past. Their days were over. Her life was with Grace.

  And what about Becca?

  Should she have told Becca the truth all those months ago? That Quinn was broken and needed the only person who could repair the damage done to her soul because of all of the death and destruction, murder and mayhem over the years?

  Becca was better off without her.

  So was Fiona.

  Hell, maybe they all were.

  Where was the place in this world for a woman dressed as a man who loved other women and commanded men?

  Nowhere.

  Where would Quinn wind up when this was all over?

  Rich and alone.

  Oh yes, she had amassed a small fortune in her pirating that Shea, her childhood friend, watched over. Add to that whatever fortune left to her by her father, and she could want for nothing.

  Except the love of a good woman.

  Hell, Quinn would take a not-so-good one at this point.

  No, she’d learned long ago that the life of a pirate was a solitary one. She had no business having anyone wanting her or luring them into her pirate heart. Her mistress truly was the sea and these scallawags her family. It was as simple as that. The women who had loved her had loved her, for the most part, from afar.

  So right here, right now, Quinn released them all. She would not darken their doorstep ever again.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she saw a young girl laughing and running toward her, arms open wide. Standing behind the little girl was Bronwen.

  “It is your destiny, my dearest friend.”

  Then Quinn faded off to sleep.

  They were “helped” by a tremendous tailwind that nearly tore the masts from their riggings. On the water, speed often came at a price.

  “Storms comin’, Captain!” One Eye yelled above the wind.

  “Keep pushin’ her, Fitz!” Quinn yelled as she struggled to get to the wheel.

  “Our masts go and we’ll never catch her, Captain.”

  Quinn glanced up at the masts stretched to the limit. “We need additional support up there!”

  Fitz fought with the wheel as he yelled, “I know what yer thinkin’, Callaghan, and it’s a dead man’s trick.”

  A dead man’s trick was when someone went up the netting to secure a mast that was flapping in the wind from being broken. It was a fifty-fifty chance of securing it with all the ropes whipping around in the wind. Most of the time, the person going up would be knocked off the beam by any one of the ropes.

  “I’m the obvious choice!” Quinn yelled back. Her weight and lightness would make it easier to get up to the riggings. After all, she had done this before and lived to tell about it.

  “Yer the Captain fer Christ’s sake! I’ll go!”

  “No, you won’t. You stay here and keep her as steady as you can.”

  The wind was so loud, she could barely hear herself.

  Tavish fought his way up the stairs. “I can see it on yer face, lad, ya canna go—”

  “I’m going! If we don’t secure it and it tears, Grace and the crew are doomed. I won’t have this end before it even begins.”

  Tavish leapt off the bow and landed with a thud on the deck below. He returned with a coil of rope. “Here. Tie one end around ya.”

  Quinn did as he instructed. When she stepped back, he reached over and cinched it tighter. “Okay, fellas, wish me luck!” she shouted.

  Grabbing an emergency rigging kit, Quinn made her way up the ropes like a monkey up a banana tree. The wind was something fierce, and twice it nearly tore her from the netting.

  As she made her way to the mast, Quinn’s eyes began watering from the ferocity of the wind and sea air as it ripped by her face.

  She saw the eyelet barely holding on, and with all her might, she used the kit to create another hole in which to attach a stronger rope. The wind howled in her ears, the cold rain battered her face and hands, but she was determined to fix this mast.

  The ship began dipping into the water now, but she had fixed the sail enough to ensure it would not break free.

  The sail didn’t, but one of the ropes did, and when it whipped around, it caught her across the neck, knocking her off her perch. Down, down, down she plummeted, bouncing off the netting and over the side of the ship into the roiling water below.

  The dark, cold water engulfed her as she fell into the watery abyss, the rope around her taut it dragged her behind the swiftly moving ship.

  Salt water flooded into her mouth and nose as she clamped her eyes shut, her hands clinging to the rope with all her might.

  Hanging onto the rope with her bare hands, she tried to keep her head above water. She knew if she didn’t, all the rope in the world wouldn’t matter.

  She would drown in less than five minutes.

  Suddenly, she opened her eyes and saw she was being hauled closer to the ship. To get her up and out of the water would take a herculean effort. Luckily for her, she had a few heroes on her ship. Soon, she was being pulled out of the water and onto the ship, where she collapsed on the deck on her hands and knees, spewing salt water from her nose and mouth.

  Words were yelled into the wind. Feet thudded about as the crew, her crew, did their best to keep her safe.

  Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders while she sat shivering.

  Someone else handed her shaking hand a flask of whiskey.

  Another man ordered everyone to return to duty, everything was under control.

  Her men.

  Her crew.

  They’d saved her like they always had.

  Tavish knelt down and grabbed her chin with his hand and looked into her eyes. “Ya with us, lad?”

  Quinn shuddered and nodded. “Thanks to you, yes.”

  Tavish stepped aside and pointed to Logan, the largest man on the ship. “Can’t
take all the credit, lad. Ol’ Logan here practically pulled you up by his self.”

  Maggie appeared and put her arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you to your quarters. Can’t have you dying from the cold.”

  Maggie escorted Quinn to her quarters, undressed her and helped her into bed, where she continued to shiver. “That was . . . well, unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “And not in a good way?” Quinn’s teeth chattered so much, she wasn’t sure Maggie could understand what she was saying.

  “I mean, those men out there would have jumped in the water to save you. I thought Grace O’Malley reaped loyalty, but that woman’s got nothing over you.”

  “Aye, she does . . . that’s why I took the chance. Without us––”

  “Grace would have been dead a long time ago. I don’t know if she’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you and those boys.”

  “Sure she would,” Quinn said, feeling the damp chill settle into her bones. “She’s Grace O’Malley.”

  Maggie tended to Quinn until she was warmed. Pulling up a stool, she sat next to Quinn’s bed and held her hand. “Let me tell you a story, Callaghan. You just close your eyes and rest a wee bit.”

  “I really can’t . . . the crew––”

  “Will be fine for a spell without you. They are well trained and well led. They will be fine. Now, hush up and let an old woman tell you a story.” Maggie pulled the covers up to Quinn’s chin. “Half a decade or more ago, a wily old Scot found a wayward lad who needed his protection and assistance. After some time, they became like brothers, fighting their way out of one dangerous situation after another. Back to back, they fought, never leaving the other behind.”

  “Never?”

  “Hush. Never. They vowed to live together or die together, but then something happened. The Scot fell in love and married a woman, only to settle down in their home country. But they didn’t settle down inland. No, they settled down near a port where he built a dock that stretched as far as it could go, and do you know why?”

  Quinn shook her head.

  “So he could sit out on it every single day pretending to fish while watching every single ship sail by. Every day, he would trudge out with pole in hand, and every day he would return empty handed.”

  Quinn opened her eyes. “Every day?”

  “No, lad, every single day. Like his new wife wouldn’t figure out what was happening.” Maggie smiled softly. “You see, that Scot missed more than his new mate. The big galoot actually missed the sea. He missed the bond he’d shared with his shipmates. He missed—well, he missed everything. Every day, he came back a wee bit sadder, a wee bit unlived.”

  “So what happened?”

  “His new bride sent a missive to his old friends letting them know where to find him in the event there was ever . . . adventure afoot.”

  “Adventure? You told the crew where you lived?”

  “Of course. My husband was slowly dying inside. I was certain you’d come back his way at some point. I wanted him to be prepared. We worked on his broken hand. I made up chores for him to do so he would stay in good, physical condition, and I made sure he ate well and drank less so when the time came, he’d be ready.”

  “And is he?”

  “Och, aye. He spied your ship’s flag a long way off. Ran down the dock and told me he thought you were coming. It’s why the old Scot was ready.”

  “Because you love him.”

  “No, lad. Because he loves you.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Not like that. No. Big Red is in love with his wife, but he also in love with life at sea. It is that sea which will bring him back to life. I need Tavish to regain that passion, Callaghan. It is why we are here. It is why I bid you now to please take my husband as your first or second or sergeant-at-arms, or whatever title you wish to give him. He needs you, Callaghan. He needs all of this.” Maggie waved her hand in the air. “As surely as he needs the air, my husband needs the pirate’s life.”

  Quinn felt her body shudder then her eyes grow heavy. “I need him, too, ya ken?”

  Maggie chuckled. “Aye, Captain. I ken more than you realize. You get some rest now, Tomorrow will be here soon enough and we’ve got a long stretch of river ahead of us.”

  As they rounded the first bed of the Thames, Quinn saw the Malendroke taking fire from above. She had anticipated this, and she knew well that Grace had as well and would have been prepared for such an attack. Still, being prepared doesn’t mean being out of danger, and from what Quinn could see, the Malendroke was in trouble.

  Tilbury Fort hung on the cliff above, its archers firing away. Some of the bowmen shot flaming arrows while others rapidly fired down arrow after arrow at the deck of the ship and the crew upon it. One of the masts had caught fire and Quinn could see through the telescope that the crew of the Malendroke was understaffed and ill equipped to both defend and repair.

  Grace and the crew had sailed into dangerous waters and were not strong enough to pull away from the cliff nor to repel those who were attacking.

  “Hard to starboard!” Quinn yelled to Fitz.

  He stopped and stared at her. “Starboard? Don’t we want to get to the middle of the river?”

  Quinn shook her head. “Get us closer to the goddamned shore!” Then she turned to the crew and shouted at them to get ready to land.

  The crew muttered and mumbled under their breath. They hated the land. Hated fighting on it, hated riding horses on it, hated just about everything that had to do with it.

  “We’re takin’ it to the fort!” she yelled, lifting her long sword over her head. “Those land-lovin’ rat bastards won’t expect to see us on land!”

  The men swiftly grabbed all their weapons and started lowering the boats into the water by hand.”

  “We have to stop them from setting the Mal on fire. We can’t do that from this ship. We have to divide their attention. It’s the only way to give Grace and the crew a fighting chance. If we pull up next to her, we’ll be in the same shape she’s in.” Quinn turned to One Eye and ordered him to drop the boats in the water and go.

  “We’ll wait ashore fer ya, captain.”

  Quinn nodded and motioned for Logan to join her. “Logan, I need you to get the ship out of firing range if those arrows don’t stop raining down on the Mal. Get the ship and crew to safety.”

  “But captain, we aren’t leavin’ enna of ya behind.”

  Quinn threw her shoulders back. “Wasn’t a request, Logan.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Soon, Quinn and thirty of her best fighters were making their way toward the fort.

  She had learned long ago that pirates on land were like a fish out of water. It was, as always, slower going. They weren’t terribly good on horses, they had spatial relation issues with regard to the arc of their swords, and they were not well versed in land combat.

  Still, along the way, they took out two dozen sentries, most of whom appeared surprised to see a bunch of pirates coming toward them on land.

  After they dispatched the twenty-fifth guard, Quinn and her men huddled behind a stone wall almost one hundred yards away from the fort.

  “We can’t get enna closer, Callaghan without drawin’ fire out in the open.”

  Quinn nodded. “We don’t need to attack the fort to win. We need only divide their attention long enough to let the Malendroke sail by.”

  “And us? What about us?”

  Quinn smiled. “We will change out our flag and then swing to the far side of the river. With our speed, they won’t touch us.”

  “And now? What do ya want from us now?”

  “What Callaghan wants,” Tavish growled, is fer ya to stop askin’ so many fookin’ questions and just do what yer told.”

  Quinn inhaled deeply, and nodded to Tavish. “Now, my friend, our plan is to rush this fort and do exactly what I tell you to do and we won’t suffer a single wound.” Pulling her men together, Quinn began outlining the
rest of her plan. “Okay, fellas, here’s what we need to do. First off, we need to stay alive. We didn’t come here to lose men before we even get to London. Secondly, we have to get their attention away from the ship. We’re going to do that by shooting off our own flaming arrows and attacking from three different sides. We want to give the illusion of there being more of us than there are. If we attack on three sides, they will have to divide their attention. Fitz, One Eye, and myself will each lead a group of ten. Fitz, take the south wall, One Eye the north, and I’ll take the east.” Quinn tried to settle her gaze on every man as she spoke.

  “Understand, fellas, we’re not trying to win. We are not doing anything except getting them to engage, so there’s no need for heroics. Do ya rascals understand?” She waited until she saw everyone nod. “Excellent. I need each group to have a counter. Once we separate, the counter will count to one hundred. At one hundred we start shooting and can divert them away long enough for Captain O’Malley to get away safely. Are there any questions?”

  One man raised his hand. “Captain?”

  “Yes, O’Leary??”

  O’Leary pointed over the wall. “There’s a hundred or so of ’em chargin’ us right now.”

  Quinn poked her head over the wall and saw men streaming from the fort. Quickly ducking back down, she looked at Fitz and One Eye. “Change of plans, fellas. Fight like we’re on the deck. Stay tight, watch for archers, and take out as many as you can. Ready?”

  “Lead on, Callaghan,” Fitz said.

  Quinn pulled both her swords and inhaled deeply. “I expect to see you all at the end of this. They’re soft English soldiers who sit on high and shoot down from above. Let’s finish this before it begins. Stay tight, watch your flank, and always draw first blood. See you back here shortly.”

  Fitz and One Eye each took ten men and started around the wall, arms drawn, filling the air with loud cries.

  Quinn looked at her men and realized she had Logan in her group.

  “Captain, they’ve got archers moving in behind the food soldiers,” he said.

  “Then they will be our responsibility, right?”

  The men all nodded.