Queen Of My Nightmare (Uncharted Secrets, Book 2): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories (9 page)

The rich son of a bitch who then claimed to own us worked me out in the field and he had Lace serving in the house. As you know, I hated working under that man’s whip, and I kept telling Lace we were going to escape one day. She let me think that it wasn’t so bad in the house, but as the months passed, I watched her body thinning and I felt her spirit fading. Though she would never confess it, I knew that fat ol’ bastard was the cause of her deterioration. Well, one day, I saw for myself just what he was doing to ruin her.”

I felt his body tense beneath me.

“Without thinking it through I jumped in the window of his study, yanked him off of her, and…I killed him. I choked him to death with my bare hands.” Staring into space, Mason shivered. “I’ll never forget the way it felt when his life left his body.”

“What happened then? Is this when you escaped?” The suspense was killing me.

“Aye. With the sun setting behind us, Lace and I ran into the night. Sleeping in the forest, hunting rabbits and catching fish, we ventured across the woodlands. Finally finding a town far enough away from the troubles we left behind, I got an apprenticeship with a blacksmith. There, I worked my arse off to earn a fair share for Lace and me, who had not said a word or had a bite to eat since we fled.

She once was a pretty girl, the one all the boys were after, and I had to rough a few of them up while we were young. But by this time she was so thin and discolored that she almost looked like a skeleton. I took care of her day and night, the best I could, trying to give her the strength to turn it around, but she lost her interest in living.”

With my hand over my mouth, I gasped, “What happened to her?”

“She got the fever and went home to the Lord,” he sullenly stated.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed his cheeks. “Oh, Mason, I am so sorry. This is a terribly sad story, but even as a lad, you were so brave.”

Swatting off my generous affection, he said, “Ah, I just did what I had to do, more for Lace than for me. But that’s all part of the shit my grandfather taught me. And I suppose if she would’ve lived, I might be more likely to tell the tale. But she didn’t. So I don’t.”

“But that isn’t your fault. She got sick.”

“She gave up, Hannah. I know there was nothing I could do about what was set in her mind, but seeing her fall apart like that,” he shook his head in shame, “I reckon that’s half the reason I never give up. Life is shitty sometimes, but I just try to get the damned best I can out of it while I’m still breathing. And if for nothing else, I always enjoy a bit of my freedom for Lace. She was robbed of it too soon.” He closed his watery eyes.

His story shook me to the core. It explained so much about him, everything from why he understood my struggles, why he was so protective, why he embraced his freedom and the freedom of others, and why he always tipped his servants so well.

“You are an amazing man, Mason Bentley, and I know your grandfather Sterling would be proud of the way you have turned out.”

He smiled. “Well, now you know about my first kill. Though I never once regretted it, that man’s dying face haunted my spirit for years to follow. So, if that nasty ol’ Gruff spooks you in the night, just wake me and I’ll chase his hell-bound spirit away.” He laughed.

“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek.

Wanting to talk of happier things, I squinted at him and asked, “The blacksmith in that story…Would that happen to be the lady who taught you how to sword fight?”

His face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Aye. She taught me a thing or two.”

“Oh, you dirty dog.” I playfully slapped his arm.

While I sat there on his lap, we talked for a while about lighter subjects. Even with the sounds of the crowd below wafting through the busted window, it felt like we were all alone on one of heaven’s clouds. He was so close I could feel his heart beating, and that exotic sandalwood oil he wore enticed my senses in the most sensual of ways. Relentlessly stunned by his ruggedly handsome appeal—especially with his hair hanging wild about his shoulders—I poked his bold nose and asked, “What is the matter with you, Mason Bentley? Why in the world would a man like you choose to be with a disastrous little lady like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He looked me over while biting on his lip.

“Maybe, because I’m an outright lunatic.”

Grabbing my thigh, he whispered in my ear, “Maybe I’m a bit of a lunatic myself, because I like everything about you.” He laid me down and got on top of me. “Your sweet side soothes my soul as much as your sassy side feeds the fire in my spirit. I like your unique way of looking at things and I like your eccentric style, too. And those braids in your hair and the way you do your eye makeup causes me to stir with so much lust I can hardly control myself. There isn’t a wench in the world the same as you, Hannah, and I’m glad to call you my own.”

Happy to hear him express the things I never knew he liked about me, I giggled like a shy little girl.

“And this body…” He pulled the sheet off of me and started kissing me all over.

Blushing from the compliments, yet chilled by the tickle of his touch, I laid back on my bed of clouds and let him do whatever he pleased with me. As strong as he was, he tossed me around like a play thing, but I didn’t mind. Oh, I liked being Midnight, the artist of the sea, but I loved being Mason Bentley’s one and only woman more than anything else in the world.

X

Hannah spent the next few weeks of her life as Mason Bentley’s lady of the night. With her legs around his waist, and her hands tangled in his hair, she moaned his name from every surface of the fancy room he kept her in. As for Midnight, he spent his days adventuring the shores of Tortuga, refining the most particular details of his maps. With every curve of the coast and every hilltop of the island replicated to perfection, word began to spread about the maps marked with a feather and a moon.

The Midnight Feather was somebody. The satisfaction I felt in my soul when seafaring rogues complimented my maps was far more valuable than any piece of eight they paid me for them. Even the notorious Black James Reid bought one! My life had never been better.

Knowing we’d be heading out to sea tomorrow, I met Mason on the deck of
Esmerelda
and asked, “Are you busy today?”

He looked around. “I could be, or I don’t have to be. It all depends on why you’re asking.”

“Will you take me out in one of the longboats again? I want to get some final measurements before we leave.”

“In that case, I’m as free as the birds.” He motioned me over to the boats.

Whenever he couldn’t take me out, Shark would do it, but with it being my last day to speak with Mason as a woman for a while, I was happy he accepted the chore.

We spent the day rowing around the bays, measuring the depths, and admiring the beautiful sunlit view of the island itself. From afar, I got a better perspective of the hillsides, and taking our time, I was able to sketch them in much better detail than I did from the ship.

“You’re getting good at this.” Mason dipped his hat in the ocean and poured the water all over his head. “No wonder the men think you’re a sorcerer.”

I squinted in irritation. “Why do they think that?”

“To put it the way Perk said it,
It’s those ghastly eyes of his. They look like the sea, they do, and the way he reads the sea bloody well proves he’s got some mystic connection to the deep
.”

Amused by this explanation, I waved my hand at him in a spell-casting manner. “You never know when you will need a witch around.”

He nodded his head in approval. “I like you more all the time, Midnight.”

“I’m just glad to finally be somebody. It’s nice having a purpose. I can’t thank you enough for giving me a place to stand, and for teaching me to be strong enough to hold my place there. Had I not known how to defend myself, I never would have been brave enough to run away.”

“Ah, damn it. I taught you to be strong enough without me! What was I thinking? I should’ve kept you like a sweet little flower in a vase so you’d never ever flee.”

“I’ll never run away on Tortuga again. So, you can rest at ease while we are here.” I winked.

“It is a terrible place.” He laughed, golden arms tempting every bit of my passion as he rowed along.

He looked at me as if he was plotting something. “Of all the places you’ve been, where’s your favorite?”

“There is much I like about London, but before my father died I truly liked Barbados, too. The town was nice like London, but smaller, and the beaches are beautiful.”

“It is nice there. Calm and all that.” He agreed with little enthusiasm.

“I don’t take you as the kind of man who enjoys
calm and all that
.”

“I don’t. I could live on these filthy ships and visit these nasty islands all my days, but I prefer the quiet shores of the secret beaches the most. Hunting, fishing, one with the land. That’s my favorite way of living.”

“Secret beaches? Why have we not done anything like that, yet?”

“We haven’t been in need of such a place as of late. That’s usually for careening, or refitting, or hunting. Our keel is slick, our ship is lean, and our hold is full. It’s been a downright successful few months if you ask me.”

“Well, I hope we get to a secret shore soon. I want to draw more maps!”

“We’ll get there eventually, my sweet.”

Rowing back to the ship, we talked and talked without a dull moment between us. I loved his company as much as I enjoyed my nights in his bed, and though I’d miss his affection once we headed out to sea, I was also looking forward to the adventure. There would be new horizons to admire and new shores to chart. At this point in my life it was hard to tell if I liked being Midnight or Hannah better, but either way, I was enjoying my life more than I ever had before.

Chapter 9

Kiss the Gunner’s Daughter

“S
he’
s
Spanish.” Mason smirked as he observed the upcoming ship in his spyglass.

“Why do you sound unenthusiastic this time?” I asked as I eyed the slow moving ship.

“This low on the course at this time of year, she must be a merchantman.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have an easy treat laid out on the platter before us. Tasty and all, but like a little snack it’ll only keep us satisfied for a wee bit.”

Remembering the horrendous battle we waged in the west, I chuckled, “Easy sounds good to me.”

The crewmen agreed to go in for the
snack
.

After a long and strenuous chase against an unfavorable wind, we caught up and blasted a warning shot from the portside. No matter how many times I heard it, the brain rattling blast of a great gun would forever shiver my spirit. Though my nerves ran wild while anticipating the worst,
Estrella de Plata
surrendered quickly, and without dispute, the captain allowed us to board her.

While observing her sleek trim line and modern amenities, Mason and Ziare decided that they liked
Estrella de Plata
better than
Esmerelda
. Right in front of the surrendered men, Mason organized a vote concerning which ship his men preferred. The majority easily voted to take
Estrella de Plata.

With the decision made, they presented their offer. “All right, Sharky Boy, give them their options. Either, we trade ships and they can live. Or, they get in their longboats to drift away and maybe they’ll live.”

To me it seemed the choice was not a difficult one to make, but the Spanish captain sounded rather disgruntled in his response spoken in Spanish. I had no idea what he was saying, but Shark was shaking his head as if the man was a fool, and Mason looked angry. As soon as the Spanish captain began flailing his arms, Mason grabbed him by the collar, spun him around to face the crowd, and held his cutlass against his throat. “
Cerrar la boca,
arrogante tonto.”

Apparently, Mason spoke Spanish.

Whether it was the blade at his throat or the words Mason spoke, the man silenced immediately.

After a curt but civil discussion with Sharky Boy, the man agreed to trade ships. Ziare led a group of our crewmen to escort the Spanish men over to
Esmerelda
, while Mason led another group to transfer the goods. It was my job to help the latter, because Mason had already told me to stay near him until we sailed away clean. As we stripped
Esmerelda
bare, from guns to sails to lines, to most of the food in the galley, I realized why the Spanish captain was so resistant to make the trade. Yes, they would have a ship, but that was it.
Esmerelda
was not much more than a wooden raft by the time the transfer was complete.

With Feather following behind Mason and me, we carried a chest full of navigational tools and charts down the gangway. “It’s so damned hot down here,” I complained.

“Aye. This southern sea is the worst. You know, the Cumana salt flats are not far from here, and that’s where prisoners are sent to mine. The sun reflects off of the white salt, burning their faces like a fire. I reckon any man working those fields would rather be locked up in a dark, dank prison cell with the rats.”

“I think I would. I hate this kind of heat. The cool weather is another thing I miss about London.” Reaching the door that would most likely lead to my new chartroom, I opened it. To my dreadful surprise, a crazed man leapt out from under the desk. Though it happened so fast, I saw his face in slow motion. Skin white as snow, with hair dark as night, the man had a fire in his eyes made him look unearthly. My terrified mind imagined him being Seth’s tormented ghost.

I am completely unsure how I did not scream like a woman as he jumped at me, wailing Spanish words, but as Mason ran a knife through his throat, I let out a ridiculous sigh of relief. The ghostly man fell to his death, but as Mason pushed his way passed me, a second man leapt out after him, dagger drawn. While I wondered how many of them were hiding under that desk, another came out. Neither of them looked like tormented spirits, but their Spanish cursing made it clear that they were out to avenge their crewman’s death.

Mason somehow tackled them both and hopped to his feet quick enough to run his sword through one of their guts before he rose, but the other man got up and jumped on Mason’s back like a monkey. He didn’t seem to have a weapon, but when I saw him chomp down onto Mason’s shoulder with his nasty ol’ teeth, I realized that I needed to help my lover.

I stabbed my knife blade into the attacker’s back. The horrendous thump reverberated through my being, ringing out in ghastly harmony with his mortifying scream. But the murderous symphony was quickly followed by the loudest sound of all. Death. The silent sound of death.

When Mason threw him to the floor, I saw that it was not my knife that had killed him. No. Mason had stabbed him right through his mouth with his cutlass blade.

Sickened by the sight of the solid and sharp piece of metal bursting out the backside of the man’s head, I quickly looked away as Mason retrieved his sword.

Hiding behind my hands, I heard him chuckle, “That ought to teach him to keep his teeth to himself.”

I let out a delirious laugh.

Ripping off his ivory shirt that was now covered with the blood gushing out of the horrible flesh wound on his shoulder, Mason said, “And today I learned to wear more layers during times of engagement. Just when you think you know it all.” Letting out an exhausted laugh, he shook his head.

As I watched him cleaning the blood off of his cutlass—with three dead bodies piled up around him—I realized that if it had been Mason Bentley with me in that bunkroom on the way to England, I never would have been stolen.

Awed by his fearsomely heroic act, I whispered, “Thank you.”

“I need my navigator.” He winked. “Let’s go topside and find out who the hell didn’t check every door and every cabinet like I told them to. He might end up missing more than a chunk out of his shoulder.”

Walking behind him, my artistic eye became enchanted by the sight of the blood dripping down his shoulder. “This may be a bit morbid of me, but I like the look of the blood coating your tattooed B. Bloody Bentley could be one of your aliases.”

“Ah, that makes me wish I could see it. You’ll have to paint it for me later.”

X

Sailing away from the ship we had called home for a while, Mason gathered his men and called out, “Whose job was it to search the cabins?”

Isaac Smith, a tall, well-built Englishman with a face that was only handsome when his toothless mouth was closed, stepped forward. Duffy White, a short round fellow, whose hair had whitened well before its time, joined Isaac center stage.

After nodding at them with an emotionless gaze, Mason spoke to the crowd, “As you dirty dogs know, all of our fen-sucked lives rest in each other’s dirty hands. There are times when you look at the man next to you and wish that wasn’t the case, and there are other times when you can’t thank the Lord enough for blessing you with brethren so true to our code. Well, right now, I’m looking at these two blokes wishing I hadn’t trusted my life in their lazy hands.”

Scowling at the accused, the crowd booed.

Mason hushed their negative roar with a simple brush of his hand. The instant they calmed, he let the crowd know how these men had failed him. Though they tried to mumble out a few flimsy excuses, their fate was set. I was about to find out which punishment the crew saw fit for Isaac Smith and Duffy White.

A few voted for keelhauling, and others shouted out for a hanging from the yards, but one surprised me with a joyful offer to eat their shoulders to avenge the captain’s injury. Though Mason seemed to like that idea best, when Shark hooted, “Make them kiss the gunner’s daughter,” the crowd roared in wild approval. So it seemed the punishment fit for this lazy crime was to kiss the gunner’s daughter. Whatever the hell that meant.

“All right. Who’s first?” Mason clapped his hands together, looking forward to the chore.

Amidst the roaring crowd, Isaac braved the nerve to step forward. With his head held high and his chest thrust out proudly, he said, “I’ll go first.”

“Come on over, boy.” Mason waved him in with both hands. The moment Isaac came within arm’s length, Mason threw him over the barrel of a great gun and beat the hell out of him with his fists. The crowd jumped and roared as their captain pummeled their crewman’s face, but knowing he was next, Duffy winced in terror.

The brutal beating was brief, but the damage to Isaac’s face was horrendous. Swollen eyes, a bloody nose, and his thin lip was split clean open. If he had any teeth in his head he might have lost one, yet, to my surprise, the beaten man raised his hands before the cheering crowd and took a bow.

They welcomed him back into their group with pats on the back and friendly insults, then returned to cheering as Duffy rushed forward to take his turn. Duffy was hardly as proud to take his beating, and his exit was nowhere near as gracious as Isaac’s, but the crowd cheered just the same.

The moment the punishment was complete, Mason silenced the audience. “And that is that! Not another word on the matter.”

The men filtered off to do their duties as if nothing had happened. As for me, I stood there in shock as I watched Mason wipe the sweat off his forehead.
Sink me
was the only phrase my mind could conjure up. He was one hell of a man.

“What are you doing standing there like a senseless dolt? You have a course to chart, Midnight,” Mason said half-joking.

“Oh, uh, yes. I…”

“Get on your way, mate.” He nodded his head towards the gangway.

“Yes, sir.” I respectfully responded, and went on my way to the chartroom. I didn’t ever want to end up on the wrong side of the crew who would follow their captain to hell and back if he said it was the best course to take.

The men had voted to refit
Estrella de Plata
on a secluded shore. According to the pages of my rutter, there would be a chain of small islands to the east, so Shark and I set a course in that direction. Well, he mostly listened to me plan out loud, but having someone there with me helped to lighten the burden of responsibility.

Plus, I liked the way he handled the exposure of my identity. He never looked at me different or treated me different now that he knew, but I certainly felt more comfortable in my skin knowing that I could be myself around him. Not that I acted girlish, but I just didn’t have to worry about being caught in my lie when he was around. The Spanish-African buccaneer boy was the only other person in the world who had a clue as to who I was, and this endeared him to me. Shark Bite and Mason Bentley were my only friends in the world.

While I made my marks on the map, Shark rambled on about the events of the raid. “I think it’s funny when Bentley speaks Spanish.” He started mocking the things Mason said, laughing as he drank his rum.

“I was quite amused by that outburst myself. I didn’t know he spoke the language.”

“He understands it well enough to speak it. But he don’t like to one bit. Saves it for dire situations, he does, and when he blasts that shit out I have to try hard not to laugh out loud.”

Catching on to Shark’s rum drunk humor, I laughed, too. “What was it that he said?”

“He said,
close your mouth, you arrogant fool!
” Shark’s expressive imitation of Mason’s gestures and accent led me right into a laughing fit. We carried on for a bit, laughing and joking in a way that made me think of how wonderful it was to have friends.

While enjoying the fun with Shark, I began feeling terribly hot. Fanning myself with the fancy little Spanish fan I found on board, I began to feel nauseous. Trying to focus on my maps, the misery became too much to bear. Leaning over the waste bin, I threw up. Shark jumped up, complaining in disgust. To the sound of him busting out of the door, I continued to vomit until my gut hurt.

Next thing I knew, Mason was carrying me to my bunkroom. “Are you all right?” he asked while lying me down on my bunk.