The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) (4 page)

“Ivory, I think it’s best if
we regroup inside and put together some sort of plan.”

“A plan, Cass? How do you
plan on explaining to the next wave of pirates how their mates ended up dead on
our property?”

“We stood our ground
tonight, and we’ll keep standing our ground until…”

“Until when? The Carolinas
run out of pirates?”

Cass stood silent for a few
moments, as Keara and Miranda looked on in the darkness, and then said, “What
say you two? Should we call a vote or something?”

“Vote all you want. I’m
dragging these bastards to the river, rowing them out to the current, weighing
them down, and letting them go.” Ivory had grown into a hard-headed, strong-willed
young woman, and her survival instinct probably outweighed every other instinct
she had.

“Well, I guess that’s
settled then,” Cass said as she brushed her hands together. “Miranda, go to the
shed and get the rope. Keara, grab an arm.” Cass realized Ivory was right. This
wasn’t about how much corn to plant or how to keep foxes out of the henhouse.
These were dead pirates, and sooner or later someone was going to come looking
for them.

“It’s a shame. This one was
very handsome,” Miranda commented nudging one of the men with her boot.

One by one, they dragged the
blood-stained and lifeless bodies of the men down to the river bank and tied
their legs together at the ankles. Ivory and Cass climbed into the rowboat and
pulled them along through the water. They weighed them down with the heaviest
rocks they could find, and then they cut them loose. The water was black and
murky from the previous day’s rain, which helped shroud the bodies and relieved
some of the angst of their deed.
 
The
bodies disappeared quickly below the surface and were soon out of sight.

There were about two hours
left of night when they’d finally completed their task.
 
They bathed themselves in the river and
huddled together around a small fire in the parlor, drying and warming their ice
cold stares. “Someone please say something before I vomit,” Keara whispered,
shivering beneath her blanket.

“We had no choice. They gave
us…no choice,” Cass answered, putting her arm around Keara’s shoulder.

“I pulled the trigger. I
murdered those men,” Keara murmured, pulling her knees to her chest and
wrapping the blanket around them.

“We both pulled triggers,”
Cass shot back at her.

“But we’ve never killed
anyone before,” Miranda said, leaning over on Cass’s other shoulder—the flame
dancing in her eyes.

There was no sound but for
the crackling fire for several moments, when Ivory rose to her feet and dropped
her blanket. She stood there in her bloomers and bodice looking down into the
fireplace, her white undergarments glowing orange as the light and shadows from
the flames danced over her. Then, she walked into the kitchen and pulled an
unopened bottle of rum from the cabinet. She took four glasses and lined them
up on the table, filling each one about a half an inch deep, and called them
all to join her. Once assembled, they each picked up a glass and raised it into
the air. Just as they were about to tap the glasses together, Cass finally
spoke, “I have.”

“Have what?” Miranda asked.

“Killed.”

“Who? Wh…when?” Keara
sputtered.

“It doesn’t matter. That’s
behind us now. I’m sorry I told you. Now, drink.”

Both Miranda and Keara
stared at their cousin, while Ivory’s eyes wandered into the darkness.

Chapter
Five

“So, what’s the news? Where
is she?” Keara asked, rushing into the dining room and finding Cass going over
maps with their navigator, James Roberts. They both looked up at her, and
Roberts nodded.

“The
Blue Diamond
was sacked. According to the debris and the direction
from which it’s been coming, we place her within this general area,” Roberts said,
circling an area on the map.

“That’s twenty miles, James!
Any survivors?” asked Keara as she poured a glass of water.

“Oh yes, nearly the entire
crew was taken aboard one of the sloops who attacked. The crew was marooned on
a sandbar ten miles from here. I’ll have something stronger if you’re pouring.”

“Well, where are they?
 
And more importantly, where is Ivory? I’ll
have one, too, Ke…I mean, if you don’t mind,” Miranda added, pulling out a
chair and sitting down.

 
“That’s the problem.
 
She wasn’t on the sandbar, and several of the
crew claimed she refused to leave the ship,” Cass remarked, and then held her
glass out as well.

“So are you saying that we
still don’t know where she is?” Keara asked.

Roberts went on to say,
“Well, that’s not necessarily true. We received some information that a
longboat was taken in and the ship who took it from the sea anchored in
Kingston. A woman was said to have been carried away, up the beach to the home
of none other than Maddox Carbonale, also known as…”

“Blacksnake,” they said in
unison.

“Doesn’t this all seem just
a little suspicious to you?” asked Keara.

“How so?” Miranda asked with
a lowered brow.

“What are the odds that the
Blue Diamond
would get sacked twenty
miles out, just out of sight of land no less, and miraculously, Ivory—if it is,
in fact, Ivory—would end up in Blacksnake’s camp?”

“Wait, are you saying you
believe Blacksnake’s men attacked the
Blue
Diamond
and then searched for Ivory when they didn’t find her in the water?
That isn’t even possible is it?
 
I mean,
why bother searching for her at all?” Cass commented, looking at Roberts for an
answer.

“I doubt it. According to
the crew, the
Blue Diamond
was
attacked on the Wednesday when Ivory sailed, and she wasn’t found until four
days later. I mean, nothing is impossible, but it doesn’t sound to me as if
he’s behind the attack. I just don’t see him wasting the time to find her.
However, I could be wrong.”

“Well, whatever the case, we
have a fairly good idea of where she is, but why hasn’t she returned yet?”
Keara asked.

“Four days in a longboat
with no food or water and not a drop of rain? She was most likely near death.
The point is, we’re not enemies of Blacksnake’s, so why would he…” Miranda
commented.

“We’re not friends, either.
None of us have even seen him.
 
Not to
mention, we’re nothing to him. Our little fleet compared to his? We’re like a
fly in his soup,” Keara stated.

Cass leaned over the map and
said, “Exactly, Ke. Ever had a fly in your soup? It can certainly ruin your
supper.”

“So, what do we do?” asked
Miranda.

“You said it yourself, we’re
not his enemies. Let’s ready the
Carolina
Cutlass
and crew and take a little trip over to Kingston to pay a visit to
Captain Carbonale,” Cass said, rolling the maps and handing them to Roberts.

As they’d done since that
morning in Charles Towne, they raised their glasses to each other and downed
their drinks.
 
Keara sent Roberts to
round up the crew.

* * * *

At first light, they
tendered out to their small sloop, the
Carolina
Cutlass
, and set sail. With a good wind, they crossed the bay to Kingston
in record time. She was a small, but sturdy, sloop and was one of three vessels
in Ivory’s fleet. She was used for short trips to merchant towns to sell
plunder, or purchase and trade for supplies. Cass brought a crew of twenty, as
well as Miranda, but left Keara behind to mind the colony.

“Willy, are you certain
Blacksnake’s camp is west of the town?” Cass asked her bosun, who knew this
island better than anyone aboard, and who’d also lived there the longest.

“Aye, I’ll take ye to his
doorstep, if ye like.”

“That won’t be necessary.
Just get us about fifty yards off shore and point to it,” Cass said, pulling
the spyglass from her belt and placing it to her open eye.

Miranda walked over and
stood beside her. “Aren’t you even the least bit concerned he’s expecting us,
and as such, may not give us a warm reception?” she asked.

“First of all, I know a few
things about the Captain. Number one, he prefers not to be addressed as
Blacksnake—he prefers only to be called that in battle, and only by his
enemies. Second, he was a privateer up until about a year ago, and still has
many connections in England and America.
 
Although he no longer shares his plunder with either, he fancies his books,
his fine taste in art, and favors what he believes to be his unmatched
intelligence of the courses of the best merchant ships to the blatant violence
of blind attacks.”

“You’ve really done your
research,” Miranda noted.

“You can’t hope to beat a
man unless you know his weaknesses. Besides, we have a friend in common.”

“Do you think Ivory knows
all this?”

“No. That’s my job.”

Willy whistled to Cass and
pointed. From where they sat at those fifty yards out, Cass again looked
through the spyglass and spotted the house. The
Carolina Cutlass
weighed anchor, and Cass took two crewman and
Miranda in the longboat to shore.

“I hope you know what you’re
doing,” Miranda whispered.

“I suppose you’ll just have
to trust me,” Cass answered, checking her pistol and securing her dirk.
“Please, Mir, let me take the lead, and you just look pleasant and unimposing.
I’ll get us out alive.”

“Well I hope so, because we
have company,” Miranda said and checked her weapons as well.

Coming towards them were two
small boats with two men each. They rowed towards each other until one boat was
on either side of the longboat, and one of the men called out to them, “State
yer name and business!”

“Cass Randall to see Captain
Carbonale.”

“Is he expectin’ ye?”

“Obviously not, sir, since
you’re here to greet me. I’d like to have a word with him about my cousin,
Captain Ivory Shepard of the
Blue Diamond
.
She’s been missing for a week now, either in the bay, or she may have drifted
out to sea. We don’t know.
 
And you
are…?”

“Hung over.
 
What might Cap’n Carbonale know of this Ivory?”

“Well, sir, you have twice
the ships we have—well, even more-so now— and we hoped perhaps one of your
ships may have come upon her and saved her. We seek information, and offer a
reward for her safe return.”

“Follow us ta’ shore, and
I’ll see if the Cap’n is receivin’ guests today, Madame Randall,” the man said
with a seated bow, causing the rest of his crew to burst into laughter. Cass
rolled her eyes at Miranda and motioned to her own crew to follow the boats to
shore.

“You handled that well,”
Miranda whispered with a smile and a wink.

“Very funny.
 
At least they didn’t shoot us.”

Once ashore, Cass, Willy,
and Miranda stepped out of the boat and followed Carbonale’s men to the front
of the house. “Wait here,” said the outspoken man who, once standing, measured
no more than five feet five if he was an inch, and about a foot thick around
the middle—mostly muscle. He walked with a limp and wore a bandana atop what
Cass surmised was a bald head.

The house was impressive. It
had a wide veranda on the front, set high above the beach with a wide set of
steps that climbed up from the sand. From the water you could see the large
French windows and doors that opened to the outside and the lovely landscape of
plants and flowers. There were two sets of tables and chairs covered by a
canopy, obviously for entertaining.

A few minutes later, the man
emerged from the veranda doors and descended the steps down to the sand. “Funny
enough, he said he’ll see ye. He said ta’ take a stroll ta’ the pub and grab
yerselves a bite ta’ eat and come back in an hour,” he said mockingly.

“An hour?” Miranda barked,
slamming her hands on her hips.

“Excuse my cousin, sir, but
why in an hour? Can he not just tell us now if he’s seen Ivory?”

“I didn’t ask. I told him
two ladies were here ta’ see ‘em, and he said he’d speak ta’ ye in an hour, and
that’s that,” the man shouted up at Cass and walked away a few feet.
 
Then, he turned back and added, “The Shark
Skin’s that-a-way!” as he pointed east from the house to a dirt road leading
back into a cluster buildings.

“Looks like we’re taking a
walk, then,” Miranda remarked, gathering her skirt as she kicked off her shoes.

“Really, Miranda?”

“I can’t walk in sand with
my shoes on,” she answered, picking them up and shaking them out.

The Shark Skin Pub was but a
few minutes’ walk, and the sound of rowdy men and the loud laughter of loose
and entertaining women led the way. There was lively music playing, and the
smell of fried fish was thick in the air. Willy leapt ahead and offered to
enter first, just to check things out before allowing Cass and Miranda inside.

“Seriously, Willy, I’m
certain we can handle ourselves,” Cass said as he dashed into her path.

“Sorry, ma’am. Old habits
die hard,” he commented, backing away from the door and waving her in with a
bow. Cass stepped one foot inside the open door and was hit square in the chest
with a tankard full of ale. She gasped and pulled back, her eyes fixed on the
ruddy face of a drunken man, caught up in a reel. “Sorry, me lady. I seem ta’
have gotten a wee bit carried away!” he shouted above the music, which came to
an instant halt when Miranda’s pistol pressed into his temple.

“Not in here, ye don’t,”
said Carbonale’s man with the bandana on his head, as his pistol pressed into
the neatly woven curls at the back of Miranda’s head—they’d obviously been
followed.

“We’ve been here ten
minutes, and I’ve already had a bath and stopped the band. I’d say that’s a
hell of a welcome. The man said he was sorry, Mir,” Cass said, pulling a
handkerchief from her purse and wiping her bosom and bodice. “Mir? Put the
pistol away, please, and let’s get a drink.”

Miranda slowly lowered her
gun, as did Carbonale’s man.
 
“Sorry,
miss. Rules are rules.”

She tucked her pistol into
her waist band, and as she turned to him she straightened her large bosom in
her bodice and pinched her cheeks. “No hard feelings—Mister…Hung-Over was it?”
she asked as she pursed her lips and leaned over him, filling his eyes with her
plump, rosy flesh.

“Buy ye a drink?” he asked
with a grin.

“I thought you’d never ask,”
she said with a wink and spun around, headed for the bar.

The man followed behind
Miranda and swept a stool clean for her to sit. He was fixed on her ample
offerings for the duration of their conversation—which was fine with her. She
prided herself on gathering a great deal of information without ever making eye
contact with her quarries. Her adversary, who only moments before pressed a gun
barrel into her crimson locks, was now interested only in running his hands
through them, on his way to her toes.

Cass sat a few stools away
chatting with Willy and turned on his nod to observe Miranda at work. Miranda’s
wiles were never wasted, and Cass smiled when she turned back to Willy, who
lowered his head and chuckled. “Sorry, ma’am, but that woman’s assets could
sink the whole Royal Navy, I’d wager.”

“One more, please,” Cass
said to the bartender and then turned back to Willy. “Close, but no. She has,
however, nearly taken down an entire pirate crew.
 
But that’s a long story for another day.”
They both broke into laughter as Cass sat fanning at her soiled clothes.