Tortuga Island
Three months later
DEVON AND Elijah sat inconspicuously at a table by the back of the tavern, watching the comings and goings of the other customers and sipping leisurely from their ales.
“Think Jasper will come?” Elijah asked Devon.
“He was the one who sent word that he wanted to see us. It’s in his own interest,” Devon said.
“Wonder what he wants with us,” Elijah said.
“Whatever it is, I will listen. His information about the whereabouts of British cruisers and the governor’s business ventures has been extremely useful. Thanks to him, we have taken a great chunk of the governor’s intended fortune and given it back to whom it really belonged. I would not trust him with my life, but his word is good.”
“Here he comes,” Elijah warned.
Jasper O’Neill was a man in his late fifties, wrinkled by a hard life at sea. His frail build belied a fierce temperament, one that had allowed him to survive more than one dire situation. Devon watched Jasper sit at their table, waiting until the old man had his own ale before getting down to the reason for their meeting.
“Well? Why did you send for us?” Devon asked impatiently.
Jasper smiled, the effect somewhat ruined by his lack of teeth. “I have in my possession something you might want to have, gentlemen.”
“And what is that something?” Elijah said, sounding doubtful.
“A map,” Jasper replied, looking very smug.
“A map?” Elijah repeated, with a frown.
“Treasure map. Belonged to Cap’ain McKenzie.”
“We heard he died last week,” Devon said.
Jasper nodded. “Aye, he did.”
“And he left you the map out of the kindness of his own heart?” Devon said sarcastically.
Jasper chuckled. “Not the kindness of his own heart, no. Mine. See, after he made his fortune, he was forced to hide everything because the British troops were hunting him down somet’ing fierce. He drew the map and hid it, but before he could disappear, he was caught and sent to prison for life.”
“So, how did you come by his map?” Elijah asked.
“He managed to escape two years ago, but by then, he was too old and sick to go back for his treasure. I happened to find him wandering the island and took him in. The day he died, he told me where to find the map. A reward for having taken such good care of him, you might say.”
“So why not keep it for yourself?” Devon asked curiously.
Jasper shook his head with a grimace. “I’m too old meself, lad. But… there is nothing to say I can’t sell the map and make a few coins to save for my old, old years,” he added with a chuckle.
“Why us?” Elijah asked, staring at Jasper through narrowed eyes.
“I like you. Yous good men, and you fight the good fight. Governor Campbell is the devil hisself, he is.”
“So…,” Devon drawled slowly. “You told only us about the map?”
Jasper chortled, obviously understanding what Devon was getting at. “Now, I never said that, Cap’ain Hall. A man must make plans, should one of his buyers not meet his demands.”
“I see. And who else did you tell?” Devon asked with a glare that had Jasper squirming in his seat.
“Just Cap’ain Blackburn,” Jasper replied.
Devon hissed angrily. Blackburn was the worse scourge in the Caribbean Sea. While Devon and his new crew attacked only British ships, especially if under Rupert Campbell’s orders, and always let the prisoners go, Blackburn attacked any ship, no matter the nation, and left no survivors to tell the tale. The man was ruthless and with a thirst for blood like Devon had never seen before.
“I suppose you are going to say you also like him and that he fights the good fight?” Elijah said, his tone sarcastic.
“No. Like most people, I have never even seen the man, and honestly, I hope it stays that way. Speaking with his second-in-command was bad enough. The things you hear about them….” Jasper shuddered. “But he is the only one besides yourselves who can pay what I ask.”
“Which is?” Devon asked.
“Ten gold coins.”
Elijah whistled. “You are asking a lot.”
“Bah! That is nothing, laddie! McKenzie sunk hundreds of ships in his golden years, most of them full to the brim with goods. The worth of his treasure is….” Jasper shrugged helplessly. “I can’t even imagine it meself. The map itself is worth much more than the ten coins. It is a bargain. Take it or leave it.”
“We will take it.” Devon decided.
Jasper nodded. “Good. I’s happy it goes to you and not Blackburn.”
“But you would still have sold it to him,” Elijah said, clearly disgusted.
“Business is business, boy. Now, obviously I don’t have the map with me. I have no death wish. Meet me here in a week, same time. Bring the coins, I’ll bring the map.” Jasper shook Devon’s hand. “I’ll take my leave now. May the good winds carry your sails, Cap’ain Hall.”
“Jasper?” Devon called out.
The man interrupted his slow march to the exit and turned. “Yes, Cap’ain?”
“It might be a good idea for you to disappear after our… deal is done. I can only assume the other buyer will not be too happy to have lost the map.”
Jasper nodded. “I thought so as well. Don’t worry, good Cap’ain. I have the perfect hideout waiting for me once this is over. Goodbye, gentlemen.”
“Think he will keep his word?” Elijah asked once Jasper had left the tavern.
“Yes. He has never let us down before. I just hope his hideout is secret enough. Blackburn will be looking for him once he knows we have the map. If he finds Jasper, he’ll never get a chance to enjoy the coins or his ‘old, old years,’” Devon replied.
“Oh my Lord,” Elijah said suddenly.
“What?” Devon asked, frowning at him.
“That man who just walked in is one of the slaves from the governor’s plantation,” Elijah said, rising from his seat. “I’ll be right back. I want to know what he is doing here.”
Devon watched him approach the slave—a tall, muscled black man, whose garments were close to rags. Elijah guided him to their table and asked for ale. Once the man had the drink securely in his hands, Elijah sat down.
“Joseph, what are you doing here?”
“I’s a runaway slave now,” the other replied sadly.
“And you are here in plain sight?” Elijah hissed. “Tortuga may still be out of the governor’s control, but there are spies everywhere. You have any idea what they will do to you if they catch you?”
“I would not talk, you’s also a runaway and you’s here,” Joseph remarked sullenly.
“Yes, but I’m not alone,” Elijah said. “If someone recognizes me, my friend here can help me escape. And my clothes don’t draw attention to myself. Now, what are you doing here?”
“I did not have a choice. I been lookin’ for ya,” Joseph said softly.
“Why?” Devon asked, a feeling of dread washing over him.
“I need your help. The plantation is gone.”
“What do you mean the plantation is gone?” Elijah asked, voice trembling somewhat.
“Burned to the ground,” Joseph told them with a shake of his head. “Never thought I would see the day, Elijah. It was… Hell right here on Earth. Everythin’ burned—the fields, the master’s house, the slave quarters…. There ain’t nothin’ left standing.”
“What happened?” Devon asked urgently.
“The night ya escaped,” Joseph began to Elijah, “young Master Brett talked foreman Thompson and his dogs into believin’ that you’s had overpowered him and forced him to give ’em horses and arms. But the next day….” He exhaled slowly, the sorrow clear in his eyes.
“What happened?” Devon whispered, his heart lurching painfully in his chest as he thought of Brett.
“The guv’nor arrived that night, dawn really. He did not believe the young master, decided to give him the fifty lashes the young master had refused to give ya.”
“Lord,” Elijah whispered brokenly, covering his face with his hands.
“The guv’nor did not get very far, though.”
“What do you mean?” Devon asked.
“When the slaves saw what was goin’ on, they rebelled. We turned on the guards, forced the guv’nor to free the young master. He always been good to us. He did not deserve such treatment. But then one of the slaves set the fields on fire.”
“And?” Elijah asked.
“When he saw all of us, the guv’nor let the young master go. But the soldiers must’ve seen the fire, and soon we could hear ’em comin’. The young master told us to run, go get away. He then struck his uncle in the face and ran away in the other direction so we could escape. He saved us, Elijah,” Joseph told them softly. “The soldiers killed some o’ us, but we knows the land. Most made it into the jungle and are safe. The white soldiers can’t stand the marshes or the jungle heat and don’t chase us there.”
Devon swallowed hard. “Did… did Brett die?” he whispered, looking down at the worn tabletop. He didn’t want to see the answer shining from the other man’s eyes.
Joseph sighed. “No. But I ain’t sure he’s much better off.”
Devon looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Thompson caught him while we was escaping. He was taken to Port Royal and imprisoned.”
“Imprisoned?” Elijah said. “What for?”
“Treason. You’s enemies of the Kingdom, and he helped ya and harbored one of you. His trial was last month.”
“He was convicted?” Elijah guessed, expression gloomy.
Joseph nodded. “To ten years in the galleys.”
Devon moaned. The whole situation was his fault. He should have made Brett come with them, even dragging him by force if Brett had kept refusing. The only thing Brett had done was be kind to a stranger, to Devon, and he was now paying the price for his goodness. Very few people lived more than a year in the galleys, let alone ten years.
“You said you need our help?” Elijah asked.
“Yes. I been tryin’ to find ya for months. Where you been all this time?”
“After what happened, we decided to set sail for a while. We got back two weeks ago and have been staying close to Tortuga. Jamaica is just too dangerous for us at the moment,” Devon said. “What kind of help do you need?”
“The ship the young master was taken to is the Courage, under Captain Perry’s command. It stays in the Caribbean Sea, lookin’ out for pirates. It shouldn’t take ya long to find it. Ya have to rescue him. Ya have to!” Joseph pleaded desperately.
“Devon?” Elijah asked, although he looked like he already knew the answer.
Devon nodded, clenching his jaw tightly. He had to do this. No way would he fail Brett. “Elijah, go find Jasper. Tell him I’ll give him twenty gold coins if he keeps the map until we return. Then we are going for supplies.”
“On my way,” Elijah said, rushing out of the tavern.
Devon focused his attention on Joseph. “You have done well, Joseph. We will get him back, rest assured. You better get away from here now. Go join your friends in the jungle where you will be safe.”
“I will. And thank you, Captain Hall. The rumors is right; ya be a good man. May the Lord bless ya.”
Finally left alone, Devon closed his eyes tiredly. Life certainly had a funny way of sneaking up on a person when least expected. Brett had saved his life, now it would be Devon’s turn. He just hoped the Flying Horse was a strong enough ship to face the British cruiser.
Aboard the Courage
BRETT FOLLOWED the second-in-command from the galley to the upper deck, wondering why the captain would want to have a word with him. He had done nothing to justify any punishment. In fact, his month aboard the Courage had been surprisingly better than he had anticipated. He had a few more scars on his back, but other than that….
The second-in-command knocked on the captain’s door. After hearing the shouted “Enter,” he moved aside to let Brett in, then closed the door silently, leaving Brett alone with Captain Perry.
“Captain? You wanted to see me?”
Captain Perry smiled up at him from his desk. “Sit down, Mr. Campbell.”
He obeyed, remaining silent as he waited to hear why he had been summoned. It was the second time he’d stood face-to-face with the commander of the ship, the first being during his arrival. Perry was an old man, probably in his late sixties, tall and slim, with snow-white hair and warm brown eyes.
“You must be wondering why I sent for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m an old man, Mr. Campbell. I should have retired from this game a long time ago. But the sea….” Perry took a deep breath and then smiled gently. “The sea is my mistress. I find I can’t leave her alone. I’m also old enough to allow myself some extravagances. As you may know, Mr. Chamberlain, my cabin boy, died when we were attacked last week by that Spanish ship. Well, I am in need of a new cabin boy, and I decided it will be you.”
Brett cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Please don’t get me wrong, Captain, but besides being too old for a cabin boy, I’m a prisoner. You could come to serious problems over this. If my uncle finds out you showed any lenience toward me, he might take it personally. Being governor, he has friends in high places.”
The captain chuckled. “I am aware of the fact, Mr. Campbell. Going back to your first point, although I understand it is a somewhat demeaning title, you would not have much to do. I simply need someone to help me in and out of these wretched uniforms and who would not mind spending some time listening to an old man reminisce about the good old days. I am sure that is a major improvement from your current position on this ship. As for your uncle, I know perfectly well who he is. I also know what you, Mr. Campbell, have done to get you here.”
“Don’t tell me you concur with my association with pirates!” Brett smiled, relaxing under the man’s easygoing manner.
Captain Perry grinned. “From what I have heard, Hall is much more than a common pirate, and I don’t agree with the way your uncle runs Jamaica. I have already made it known to England, and so have others. We have been waiting for news from the Crown. One should not use one’s position for personal gain, which is exactly what your uncle is doing. From now on, you will be my cabin boy and will remain so until we conclude our journey. I highly doubt someone will tell him, and even if it happens, there’s little he can do to me. So, what say you?”
“When you put it that way… then yes,” Brett replied with a grin, still unable to account for his good luck.
“Good. Come with me. I’ll show you to your cabin. You can change into the proper attire there.”
The captain took him to his new quarters and showed him where everything was to be found. Soon he was freshly bathed and dressed, feeling the sea breeze caress his body for the first time in a month. He strolled quietly through the main deck, nodding to the seamen.
Brett couldn’t help but grin at the sight of a young man standing by the bow, scanning the horizon with a thoroughly enthralled expression on his face, head a wild mess of tangled red curls blowing in the wind. He looked to be fairly young, no more than sixteen, if Brett were to guess, with wide hazel eyes and strangely delicate features.
“Enjoying the view?” Brett asked as he joined the boy.
The young man reddened slightly but grinned back, eyes sparkling brightly. “Yes. We have been out here for a month and still….” He took a deep breath. “It’s beautiful. I’ll never get over it, how big and wondrous and cruel it is.” He held his hand out to Brett, grip surprisingly strong for his slight build. “Cody Sullivan, the cook’s helper.”
“Brett Campbell, former galleys prisoner, now cabin boy,” Brett replied, shaking the offered hand with a smile.
Cody nodded. “We have all heard about you. I’m glad the captain saw fit to set you free. You did not belong in the galleys.” He seemed to hesitate, then asked, “Did you really meet the Phantom, Captain Hall?”
“Yes.”
“What’s he like?” Cody asked eagerly, practically bouncing in place with excitement.
Brett remained silent for a moment, remembering the wonderful days spent by Devon’s side. “Larger than life,” he finally said, sadness tingeing his voice.
“You miss him, huh?”
Brett started at Cody’s insight, but Cody merely shrugged. “I could tell by the way you spoke. I wish I could meet him.”
Brett raised an eyebrow. “If I may be so daring, how did one as young as you end up as a cook in a British cruiser?”
Cody glowered. “Ain’t that young, turned seventeen just last month,” he said proudly, much to Brett’s hidden amusement.
“I’m sorry. I meant no slight,” Brett said. “You look younger than you are.”
“S’all right,” Cody said with a shrug. “I grew up on my parents’ farm but never really took to farming. Mama always said I had a wandering heart. Taught myself to shoot a pistol, to handle a sword…. I joined this crew so I could be a sailor, have an exciting adventure on the vast ocean. I wanted to make my own destiny, see all there is to see out there.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “It has not been as wondrous as I thought it would be. The captain thought I was too young to be a soldier, so I’m stuck with cooking duties. And, well, sometimes I… I miss my parents.”
Brett winced in sympathy. “I can imagine.”
Cody sighed again. “Still, I really should not complain. Sometimes, when there is time, some of the men help me improve my fighting skills or teach me how to sharpen my aim, and it’s quite exciting when we have to engage other ships. But I wish I could spend less time locked below, scrubbing pots.”
Cody’s forlorn expression made Brett chuckle again. “Don’t be so hasty, my young friend. I have always heard that good things come to those who wait. Your time will come, you will see.”
Cody grinned, once again bouncing on the soles of his feet with barely repressed energy. “Hope so. I have to go back. The cook’s probably threatening to skin me alive by now. See you around, Brett!”
“Goodbye, Cody.”
Brett stayed leaning on the rail for the longest time, watching the sun reflected on the ocean like a mirror and wondering about his life. Would he ever see Devon Hall again? Did he want to? And where was Devon at that moment? Was he safe? Was he even alive?
Brett closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the soft breeze to brush over him with a lover’s touch. Time to go about his duties. Anything to keep his mind busy and away from impossible dreams.
BRETT WOKE suddenly and peered into the darkness, trying to place the sound that had roused him. He lay still, looking up at the starry sky, but the beach was quiet except for the sentries patrolling the shoreline.
That morning, when suspicious smoke had been seen coming from one of the smaller islands in the Caribbean Sea, the captain had ordered a small group to go ashore and investigate, but they had yet to find anything.
Desperate to feel solid ground beneath his feet, at least for a few hours, Brett had asked the captain if he could spend the night on the island. His request had been granted, and Cody had joined him at the last minute. The cook would remain on the ship, but the group going to the island would need someone to provide them with meals.
In the two weeks since Brett had started his new assignment as Perry’s cabin boy, he and Cody had become friends, spending much of their spare time together. Cody was fierce and intelligent—like a little puppy one moment and an old soul the next—and Brett was delighted to have him around.
Brett looked at the sleeping men gathered around the dying fire and realized Cody was nowhere to be found. One of the men responsible for watching over the camp was by the fire, while the other was also absent.
Brett pushed off his blankets and pulled on his boots, then climbed to his knees, stood, and walked over to the fire.
“Where are Cody and Frederick?” Brett asked Joshua, the second watchman.
Joshua chuckled. “The boy wanted to relieve himself, and Fred went with him, just in case. Knowing those two, they stopped on their way back to look for some wild creature Cody can roast for tomorrow’s meals.”
Brett rolled his eyes. It would be just like Cody to try to hunt wild game in the middle of the night.
“I better go look for them,” Brett said.
Joshua frowned. “You better be careful, Brett. Just because we haven’t seen anyone yet, doesn’t mean that someone isn’t here, or that they’re friendly. Here.” He gave Brett a pistol. “It’s loaded and ready to use.”
Brett nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be right back with our two wayward sheep,” he said, already making his way to the tropical forest surrounding the beach.
Wishing for a torch but knowing it would be unwise to advertise his position to possible miscreants, he squinted at the soft ground, spotting faded footsteps, two different sets, fresh enough they should belong to Cody and Frederick. He looked up in the direction of the prints and saw a flash of movement in the darkness.
He thought about calling out, but caution won over folly. It might be his friends, but then again, it might very well be the elusive people they had been searching for. Feeling somewhat foolish for his zeal, he drew his pistol and stepped toward the woods. The last vestiges of sleep left him as he moved silently forward, his heart speeding at the thought of the possible danger lurking before him.
He heard what sounded like a whisper off to his right, a man’s voice, then a second voice and a muffled cry; he was getting closer. He thought about going back and calling for help but was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. He was moving faster now, certain Cody and Frederick were in some kind of trouble. The voices were clearer now.
“You really are somethin’, little bird,” one of the men said roughly. “Tender meat, that’s what you are. Goin’ to enjoy havin’ ya.”
“Yes. Going to show us a good time, ain’t ya?” the second voice chuckled. “Bet you’s a little virgin, ain’t ya, boy?”
“Oh Lord,” Brett whispered, shuddering violently as he realized what the men had in mind for his young friend.
He rushed in the direction of the voices, and suddenly he could see the frail light coming from a lantern. The scene that greeted him made his blood turn cold.
Frederick was lying facedown on the ground, in the middle of a clearing, blood pouring freely from his temple. Cody was kneeling, gagged, with his hands tied behind his back. One of the men had him securely by the mop of curly hair, yanking his head back in what could only be an extremely painful position.
Brett didn’t recognize either man. They were probably pirates or bandits, and most likely the ones responsible for the smoke the sentry had seen that morning from the ship.
He moved forward carefully, not wanting to make a sound until he was standing close enough to act. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he aimed his pistol at the two men. “Let him go. Now!” Brett ordered, relieved when his voice didn’t betray his uneasiness.
One of the men grinned. “Well, well, well, looky here! A sailor boy has come to join the party. And nice-looking too! We made it big, Jack!”
“Yes.” The other man nodded. “You better drop that gun, lad, or my friend standing behind you will be forced to hurt you… before time, that is.”
Brett narrowed his eyes, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Could the man be telling the truth? Could there be a third man behind him? It would have been easy to miss him in the darkness, but it could also be a bluff to try and overtake him.
Before he could make a move, a hand hit him on the shoulder, forcing him to stumble forward, the pistol dropping from his hand and disappearing somewhere in the bushes. He was turned around, and a fist caught him hard in the stomach. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
Filled with a sudden rage, Brett growled angrily, throwing a punch at the man towering over him, grinning madly when he felt his knuckles connect with the other man’s groin. The man howled in pain, falling to the ground and curling up into a ball as he whimpered pitifully.
Brett rose but failed to see one of the other men approaching. Another fist struck him on the chest, driving him back against a tree trunk, and a second punch slammed hard against his face. He hit his head on the tree, his vision blurring as he felt blood trickle into his mouth from a split lip.
“What is going on here?” a new voice boomed, and everyone froze.
Brett blinked at the sudden light of the lanterns and looked up to find Joshua and some of the seamen from the camp standing in front of them. Spotting his pistol, Brett reached for it and aimed at the three men, one of whom was still moaning on the ground.
“These… gentlemen were trying to kidnap Cody,” Brett lied smoothly. He knew how embarrassed Cody would be if the others knew the truth. He was certain the miscreants wouldn’t dare contradict him. “I stumbled into the attempt and was doing a dreadful job at rescue,” he said with a rueful grin.
Brett approached Frederick on shaky legs, checking for a pulse and muttering a thankful prayer when he found one.
“What do we do with them?” one of the seamen asked.
“Take them back to camp, chain them up. Question them to see if there are any more of their friends around. If yes, search for them. If not, take them to the captain in the morning. He will decide what to do with them,” Brett said, trying to sound commanding. “Take Frederick back to the ship, but be gentle about it. Have Brad look him over, see if there is anything else wrong besides the head wound. I will see to Cody,” he said, already pulling the gag from Cody’s mouth.
He might have been the cabin boy, but none of the others thought twice about questioning his judgment. The three men were taken to camp immediately, Joshua carrying Frederick in a gentle hold, leaving Brett and Cody alone in the woods.
Brett cut the ties binding Cody’s wrists, watching the boy closely to gauge how he was faring. Cody coughed violently, staggering to his feet with some difficulty.
Brett put a gentle hand on Cody’s shoulder to steady him. “How are you doing?” he asked softly.
Cody coughed some more, then rasped out, “You arrived just in time, Brett. Thank you.”
Hearing the quiver in Cody’s voice and feeling the trembling in the boy’s slim frame, Brett guided him slowly back to the beach. Instead of taking Cody to camp, Brett led him to a small stream they had discovered upon arriving.
They knelt by the water’s edge, and Brett used the gag to gently clean Cody’s face. Once the dirt had been washed away, it became clear Cody had put up quite a fight. He had a black eye, a bruised cheek, a few scrapes and cuts, and a split lip to match Brett’s own.
“My, aren’t we a pair?” Brett quipped, knowing his chest would also be badly bruised. He was relieved when Cody gave him a weak but genuine smile. “You will be fine, my friend.”
He ruffled Cody’s curls, not knowing how to comfort the boy, and Cody leaned forward, resting his head on Brett’s shoulder. Brett felt Cody’s whole body begin to shake as realization of what might have happened hit.
Brett wrapped an arm tightly around Cody’s shoulders. “Shhh, it’s all right. Everything is fine now.”
“I just… I wanted… to relieve myself…,” Cody sniffled against Brett’s chest. “And Frederick was there, so it was safe, and then we saw what looked like a wild hog, and we got distracted, and the next thing I know, Fred is lying bleeding on the ground and… and….”
“It’s over, Cody. Except for what will likely be a massive headache for the next few days, I believe that Frederick will be fine in no time,” Brett promised, gently cutting the nearly panicked babble. “They won’t hurt you again. They will never hurt anyone again. I will see to it tomorrow. You will be all right.”
They remained by the stream for the rest of the night, Cody eventually drifting off into a restless sleep. As he watched Cody fighting the demons in his dreams, Brett hoped that night’s events had not deprived Cody of his most precious possession—his innocence.
BRETT WOKE up to the feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes to find himself under Cody’s warm hazel gaze. Somehow during the night, they had stretched out on the sand, lying side by side, close enough their arms brushed together.
“Feel better?” Brett asked gently, making no attempt to move when Cody rested his head on Brett’s chest.
“Yes. Thank you, Brett. For saving me and… for taking care of me last night.”
Brett smiled. “You are most welcome. Now, what do you say we go back to camp? The others must be worried.”
Cody nodded, and they rose from their makeshift bed. Brett had begun to walk back to the other side of the beach, when Cody’s voice stopped him.
“Brett?”
He turned to face Cody. “Yes?”
Cody stepped close and pulled Brett into a brief but surprisingly strong hug. “Thank you,” he said again into Brett’s ear, then ran off to camp, leaving Brett far behind.
Brett found himself chuckling. Cody was going to be fine; they both were. Now it was time to join his crewmates and see to his captain; their brief respite from the world was over.
A GOOD wind was blowing from the southwest, the sea was calm, and the Flying Horse advanced without the slightest bit of resistance.
Everything was ready for the upcoming battle. The cannons and the firelocks were loaded with the greatest of care. Cannonballs were piled onto the deck; carbines, axes, and cutlasses were laid out, and the grappling hooks were placed on the bulwarks, ready to be hurled at the enemy vessel.
All preparations complete, they began yet another day scanning the sea, some from the ratlines, some from the bulwarks, all anxious to spot the Courage. It seemed Devon’s anxiety and restlessness had spread throughout the ship.
He walked nervously from bow to stern, continually scanning the vast stretch of water, gripping the golden hilt of his sword tightly, ignoring his crew’s glances. They had been searching for the Courage for two weeks and had yet to sight the British cruiser.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Brett; how would Brett be faring after a month and a half in the galleys? Devon wanted to storm the seas, board the Courage, and rescue Brett, but until they actually saw the cruiser, there was nothing he could do. And helplessness was not a feeling he was accustomed to.
Then suddenly, a few minutes after midday, someone shouted from atop the mainmast.
“Ship to leeward!”
Devon stopped pacing and grinned. “Battle stations!” he commanded, watching all the seamen who had been hanging from the mast take cover and go to their assigned stations. “John,” he shouted, turning to the man stationed on the mainmast. “What do you see?”
“A sail, Captain,” John replied from above.
“Is it our target?”
“It’s the sail of a cruiser, but I can’t see the name yet. We need to get closer,” John told him.
“Damn…. Where the hell is that ship?” Devon said with a frown. “Very well. Elijah, move us closer. Even if it is not the Courage, we can always use the practice.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Elijah said with a grin.
Half an hour passed, during which their ship gained five knots on their prey, and then John shouted once more, the excitement clear in his tone. “Captain, it is the Courage! They have seen us and are trying to get away.”
“Ah, finally,” Devon practically leered. “Elijah, give chase. Don’t let them escape.”
“Consider it done, Captain,” Elijah said, capable hands steering the helm.
Another forty-five minutes and they were close enough to see the frenzy on the enemy vessel’s decks. They were obviously preparing for battle as well, each sailor going about their duties.
Devon narrowed his eyes, then looked down at his faithful crew. “Men, remember! Aim high. I don’t want the galleys to be destroyed by a loose cannonball. And no more bloodshed than necessary. Take as many prisoners as possible. Now… attack!”
A wild cry arose from the crew of the pirate ship at the shouted command. Some men rushed to the cannons on the bow, while others aimed their pistols and armed their carbines.
Suddenly a shot rang out from the cruiser, and a small-caliber cannonball whistled through their ship’s sails. Devon glared at the British vessel. “Well, well, well, the mouse wants to play…. Men, show them how it’s done.”
“Aye, Captain.”
One of the men bent over his cannon and fired. The effect was immediate; the cruiser’s mainmast split at its base, oscillated violently back and forth, then crashed down onto the deck, dragging down sails and rigging. Devon watched as men ran chaotically along the bulwarks of the vessel, trying to escape the wreckage.
“Good shot, my friend,” Devon praised. “Let’s teach these sailorboys how to fight!”
They resumed their attack, showering the cruiser with cannonballs, destroying its foremast, smashing its bulwarks and frame. Deadly projectiles sliced through its rigging, killing a few of the sailors who were desperately trying to defend the ship with nothing but their pistols.
They continued to advance until they were side by side with the cruiser, flanking it on the left. They hurled the grappling hooks at the enemy vessel, bonding the two ships together with an iron grip.
“Attack!” Devon shouted again, following his crew as they sprang on board the Courage, guns held high and aimed at the many seamen still trying to resist.
Ten or twelve pirates, who had been hanging from the riggings like monkeys, jumped over the bulwarks and landed on deck, surrounding the remaining crew of the cruiser.
“Surrender!” Devon shouted at the few rebellious fighters.
The men who were still brawling with the pirates, faced with the prospect of fending off a second attack, threw down their arms.
“Who is the captain?” Devon asked.
“I am,” replied someone on his right, and Devon watched as a man in his sixties, standing tall and proud, approached him, sword laid down in both his hands. He handed it over to Devon. “The Courage is yours, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain, but there is only one thing I need from you.”
“Yes, and did you really have to cause such massive destruction to get it?” a new voice asked, and Devon turned to see Brett walking up to him, a slight smile grazing his lips. “Captain Hall,” he greeted, bowing slightly.
To Devon’s surprise, the captain of the British cruiser chuckled softly. “My good man, had you told me who you were and what you came for, we could have saved all this drama. I am perfectly content to release my cabin boy to you.”
“Cabin boy?” Elijah said, blinking in surprise.
“Long story,” Brett replied. “Suffice to say, Captain Perry decided I did not belong in the galleys.”
“What now?” Perry asked. “The Courage is obviously beyond salvaging.”
“Well, uh, we could take you and your men back to Jamaica, drop you off close to Port Royal. It’s the least I could do,” Devon offered, slightly shamefaced.
Perry chuckled again. “Don’t look so forlorn, Captain. As one of the Crown’s men, I am under sworn duty to fight all piracy. Even knowing who you were and what you wanted, battle was inevitable. However, I do accept your kind offer.” He turned to his second-in-command. “Mr. Gallagher, see to it that all the prisoners in the galleys are released and taken to Captain Hall’s vessel. The rest of you, follow the captain’s men back to his ship.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Half an hour later, having abandoned the now dismasted and battered cruiser, they sailed back toward Jamaica. The seamen and former galley prisoners were being moved to the lower deck, while a cabin was provided for Captain Perry for the remainder of the journey.
Brett smiled at Devon and Elijah. “So we meet again,” he said softly. “Elijah, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks to you. We heard what happened on the plantation,” Elijah told him grimly.
Brett’s green eyes darkened with rage. “Yes. Well, maybe one day someone will take over and rebuild it,” he said, taking a deep breath, then looking around.
“Looking for someone?” Devon asked with a frown. He didn’t like the idea of Brett having found some better company.
“Yes. One of the…. Ah, Cody!” he called out, and a young man rushed to join them.
“Brett! Are you all right? I lost sight of you during the shooting!”
“I’m fine, Cody. And yourself?”
Cody grinned widely, practically jumping up and down. “I’m fine, Brett. That certainly was some battle, wasn’t it?”
Brett laughed. “It sure was. Gentlemen, this is my little hog, Cody Sullivan,” Brett introduced, ignoring Cody’s sputtering at the appellation. “Would it be possible for him to join us?” he asked, turning to Devon.
Devon tried to curb his jealousy at the thought of Brett wanting to keep this… boy with him. “He seems a little too young to have that much experience, Brett. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Brett said.
“I am old enough,” Cody said, sounding offended.
Against his will, Devon found his lips twisting. “And how old is that?”
“Seventeen,” he said, chin lifted in challenge.
Devon shook his head; the boy certainly had guts. “In that case, welcome aboard, Cody,” he said, shaking his hand.
Brett grinned. “Cody, your exciting adventure on the vast ocean is about to begin. The gentleman you just shook hands with is none other than Captain Hall himself.”
Cody gasped, blinking rapidly, his mouth opening and closing without a word. He took a step back, two steps, a third, proceeded to trip over a large coil of rope, tumbled over it, and fell to the floor. Everyone chuckled, and then obviously taking pity on the sullen young man, Elijah helped him up.
“Come on, child, let me show you around the ship. The captain needs to have a quiet word with Brett.”
The crew walked away, leaving Devon and Brett alone, standing face-to-face on the bridge. After an awkward moment in which they simply regarded each other silently, Devon finally took the lead.
“Did I do that?” he asked, gently touching Brett’s bruised cheek and split lip.
“You?” Brett frowned in confusion.
“The attack,” Devon said as a way of explanation.
“Ah. No, I was not harmed during the attack. Cody and I had an… unwelcome encounter with some miscreants last night while ashore on a small island. They managed to do some damage before they were caught.”
“What happened to them?” Devon growled angrily.
“They were taken to the Courage this morning before we set sail. Unfortunately they were close to the mast when you first fired. They met their demise at your hands, Captain Hall.”
Devon grinned wolfishly. “Good.” He cleared his throat hesitantly. “When you asked if Cody could join us…. Does that mean you are staying?”
“If that is your wish,” Brett replied enigmatically.
“I want you to stay by my side, yes. But what do you want, Brett?”
“I want to stay as well,” Brett said, voice low and intense.
Devon smiled back. “I’m glad. Come, I’ll take you to your quarters. I have asked a crewman to prepare the cabin next to mine. He should also have supplied some clothes. There is not much choice, I’m afraid, but I’m sure he will find something that fits.”
Brett nodded. “That will be fine, thank you.”
“Come.”
Devon showed Brett to his cabin, a large room at the stern of the ship. Windows surrounded most of the back wall, presenting a marvelous view of the calm sea. There was a large bed, a square table with a couple of chairs, a bookshelf, and a huge chest for Brett’s garments.
“As you can see, there are some clothes on the bed. We should reach Jamaica by tomorrow night. We can get you something then,” Devon told him. “I’ll leave you to change. Join me on the bridge when you are done.”
“I will,” Brett said, shedding his shirt.
Devon allowed his eyes to travel over Brett’s smooth chest, watching as Brett flushed slightly, a shudder running through him as he obviously noticed Devon’s gaze on him.
Devon practically rushed out of the cabin and closed the door on temptation. The circumstances conspiring to bring him and Brett together had been strange to say the least, without having to add his confused emotions to the mixture. It was best to let sleeping demons lie.
THE NEXT night, as promised, Devon allowed Captain Perry and his crew to go free. They disembarked on the beach close to Port Royal, under the darkness provided by a moonless sky. It took several trips to take every man ashore, Captain Perry being the last one to set foot on solid ground.
“Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure,” Perry told Devon and Brett, who had accompanied him to the island. “It is a shame we had to meet under such terrible circumstances, but I look forward to our next meeting. And, Mr. Campbell, remember; your uncle will not be able to stay on his self-appointed throne for much longer. One day you and your friends will be able to claim your right to freedom and avenge the injustices that have fallen upon you.”
Brett shook Perry’s hand. “I shall look forward to that day, Captain. And to seeing you again. Please take care. My uncle will be furious when he finds out I escaped and have joined his greatest enemy.”
Perry chuckled. “In that case, I will take great pleasure in telling him myself. It will be a memory to treasure once I retire. Well, time to go. We have a lot of ground to cover. Gentlemen, farewell.”
Devon and Brett watched him venture into the night, guiding his men toward civilization. “He is a remarkable man,” Brett said quietly. “I owe him so very much. I don’t know if I will ever be able to repay him.”
“If you owe him, then so do I. If he ever needs help in any way, he will have me and my men to stand by his side,” Devon promised. “Come, we better head back before a patrol finds us.”
Brett glanced back one last time, hoping he would get the chance to see Captain Perry again. His life seemed to be turning into a whirlpool of unforeseeable events that he was powerless to control. Any help he could gather for the future was more than welcome.
THE NEXT morning, they set anchor in Tortuga, away from the few ships bobbing in the harbor. Brett watched the buzzing town from the ship’s bridge, wondering if Captain Perry had arrived safely at Port Royal.
“He will be fine,” Devon assured from behind, and Brett turned to face him. “By this time he has spoken to your uncle and is safely back home. He is probably enjoying his precious memory of a furious Governor Campbell as we speak.” They both chuckled at that. “Brett?”
Brett narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Devon’s demure tone. “Yes, Captain Hall?”
“I want you to stay aboard the ship.”
“What?” Brett exclaimed. “But—”
“Brett, please,” Devon said softly. “It is too dangerous for you to be seen in town at the moment. Tortuga is full of your uncle’s spies, not to mention dozens of cutthroat reprobates who would sell you out for a few gold coins. You will be safer here.”
They remained silent for a long moment, eyes locked in a battle of wills, until finally Brett exhaled sharply. “I don’t like it, Devon,” he said. “But I understand. Very well, I’ll stay. But don’t expect me to be so agreeable to your wishes next time,” he added with a grin.
Devon chuckled. “I consider myself duly warned. I promise we will not take long. We will meet with Jasper, buy the map, and return. I allowed most of the crew to go ashore. They deserve a little free time after yesterday’s battle. But I’m leaving five men behind to watch over the ship. If you need anything, they will see to it.”
Brett nodded. “I doubt they will be needed, but thank you. I’ll go back to my cabin and read while I wait for your return. Be careful?” he pleaded in a low tone.
Devon brushed a hand over his face gently. “Always. We will not be long. Two hours at most.”
“Just be sure to bring that treasure map with you. I promised Cody an adventure,” Brett said with a quip.
“And he shall have it. See you in a few hours, Brett.”
“Safe journey, Captain.”
Brett stood on the deck, watching Devon talk with the men, Cody and Elijah among them, and couldn’t help but admire Devon’s striking figure. Devon was dressed all in black, highlighting his blond hair. The linen shirt showed off Devon’s chest quite nicely, and the worn black leather coat secured with drawstring and eyelets fit like a glove. His trousers molded long, muscled legs, and the knee boots practically shone in the sunlight. He was wearing a black leather baldric with metal fittings for both his sword and pistol.
Devon turned back to look at Brett, and Brett felt his gut tightening at the heat and promise in those eyes. Brett nodded slightly, showing his readiness to face whatever this was between them when the time came.
For now, he watched the men lower one of the cutters and row toward the quay. He waited until they were but a small dot in the water before going to his quarters. Surely there was a book there to help him pass the time.
A LITTLE over half an hour later, while enjoying a book about ancient civilizations, Brett suddenly heard a loud thud from the upper deck. He sat up on the bed, alert to any possible danger, but when he heard no further sound, he went back to his book.
Only to hear the same noise again.
He frowned. It sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the hard wooden floor. But there hadn’t been any other sounds—no shouts, no cries for help, no typical noises from a fight.
Brett put the book aside and rose from the bed, then quietly exited the cabin and moved to the upper deck. His first glance showed the ship to be deserted; not even the five sentries could be seen. But something told him he was not alone.
Reaching for his pistol, he walked to the bridge to get a better view of the vessel. And his blood froze in his veins. He could clearly see the bodies of his shipmates lying dead or unconscious, hidden behind the cannons. And spread throughout the deck was a group of five or six men he had never seen before, all of them aiming their guns at him.
One of the men left his cover and walked over to the middle of the deck, looking up at Brett. He was tall and well built, probably in his midfifties. His long brown hair flowed past his shoulders, while his dark eyes seemed to see straight through Brett. A gruesome-looking scar crossed his left cheek from the eye to the lips. He was dressed all in black, from the shirt to the tight pants and knee-high boots, all the way to the feathered hat.
“Mr. Campbell, I presume?” he asked. “Please, be so kind as to place your pistol on the deck.”
Brett obeyed, his eyes never straying from the man, obviously the leader of the small group of intruders. “Who are you?”
“Me? I am Captain Blackburn. And you, Mr. Campbell, are my prisoner.”
DEVON GLARED at Elijah. “Well?”
“I can’t find Jasper anywhere, Devon. I searched the whole town, and nothing,” Elijah said. “I don’t understand. He said he would wait for us.”
“Think he sold the map to that Captain Blackburn you talked about?” Cody asked.
Devon shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Jasper told us the map was ours, and he would not go back on his word. He even told us we could pay him only fifteen gold coins instead of the twenty I offered.”
“Maybe he is hiding,” Elijah suggested.
“From what?” Devon asked, frustrated. “He said he would stall Blackburn until we got back. There would be no reason for him to go into hiding until the map was sold.”
“Unless Blackburn got tired of waiting for Jasper to make up his mind. Especially if he knew we were the other possible buyer. He has lost quite a few ships to us,” Elijah said.
“So, now what?” Cody asked with a frown.
“Let’s go to the tavern, have a word with the owner. He is a friend of Jasper’s. Maybe he knows something.”
“HOW DO you know my name?” Brett asked as he was taken to Devon’s cabin and pushed into a chair by two of Blackburn’s men.
“Through a… let’s call it a mutual friend,” Blackburn said with a smile.
Brett frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, allow me to explain. About three weeks ago, I got word someone named Jasper was looking for me in Tortuga. I sent my second-in-command to meet with him and was informed about a certain map. I’m sure you are aware of all this?” he half questioned. When Brett nodded, he proceeded, “I was perfectly happy to wait until Mr. Jasper had decided if he should sell the map to me, when, to my surprise, I began to hear rumors of a second buyer. And none other than Devon Hall, the infamous Phantom, a man who has cost me more than you can imagine.”
“And I’m sure if Jasper had decided to not sell the map to you, you would have let him be,” Brett said sarcastically.
Blackburn laughed. “Actually, no. I intended to get that map one way or another, but as long as he would not try to sell it to anyone else…. He told my second-in-command the map was well hidden and would take some time to retrieve. He never mentioned anything about a second buyer. So last week, I had my men search for him, torture him until he told them where to find the map, then kill him. Slowly.”
“I still don’t see what this has got to do with me,” Brett said with a scowl.
“I am getting around to that, Mr. Campbell, patience. Mr. Jasper had suffered a somewhat painful demise, but now I had the map. So I went to meet with my associate, the mutual friend I mentioned earlier. We have been working together for years. He gives me information about certain ships carrying valuables, I attack the vessels, we split the spoils. There is nothing more beautiful than a relationship based on greed,” he added with a laugh. “But where was I? Oh, yes. I showed him the map, and we realized its instructions were in French. But not all was lost. My associate knew you spoke French and where to find you.”
“So you were going to attack the Courage,” Brett realized, relieved Devon had been the one to do it. Perry and his crew would have perished at the hands of this brigand. “But how does your… associate know I speak French? And why go to all this trouble? It would not be difficult to find someone on the islands to translate the map.”
Blackburn chuckled. “Getting someone else in on this secret was a risk neither I nor my associate was willing to take. Too many things could go wrong. But mainly, my dear boy, because my associate is your Uncle Rupert.” He laughed outright as Brett gasped, suddenly feeling faint. “And he does not just want the map translated—he wants you dead. Now imagine our surprise when Captain Perry and his crewmen showed up in Port Royal, on foot, and told Rupert you had joined forces with Hall. I thought your uncle would explode, he became so furious.”
“So you decided to attack Hall’s ship?”
“Not really, no. When we realized you two were together, we knew Hall would be coming to Tortuga for the map. So I set sail immediately and arrived just a little behind you. I had no real plan to capture you. Maybe wait until you went to town, ambush you when you went searching for Mr. Jasper…. Hall saved me the trouble when he sent his whole crew ashore and left you behind with only five men to watch over you. They are all dead, by the way.”
“Now what?”
“Now I am going to leave you alone to translate the map. And I advise you to do it. There are a lot of things more painful than death. And I know every single one.” He placed the map, a sheet of paper, ink, and a pen on the table. “You can start right away. I’ll be back in half an hour to see how you are doing. It should not take you long. It is only a couple of lines.”
Brett watched Blackburn and his men leave the cabin, heard a key rattling in the door, and realized they were locking him inside. He looked down at the map. Blackburn was right; the French was easy to translate. A few minutes would be enough for him to write everything down.
Not that he was going to do it. He had every intention of escaping.
He folded the map and placed it inside his shirt, taking care so it wouldn’t fall out. If his plan worked, the map would get wet, but since it was drawn on some kind of animal skin, he didn’t foresee it getting too damaged. The hide had definitely seen better days, and the instructions hadn’t faded over time, so he would just have to risk it.
He went to the door and looked through the keyhole. The key was not there, and there was no one guarding his temporary prison.
He grinned wolfishly. “Amateurs,” he muttered.
After pulling off a boot, he turned it upside down and shook it until a small piece of wire fell out. During his many years accompanying his mother through her escapes in Europe, such a small piece of equipment had come in handy. Especially if they happened to get caught during one of his mother’s schemes. There was no lock he couldn’t pick, given enough time.
Brett pulled on his boot again, then turned his attention to the door and tackled the lock with gusto. It took him a while; the wire was too thin and the lock was obviously new, but he finally did it. There would be nothing stopping him now.