Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 40

Charlotte, the past

Something was missing inside me, as if I’d left a piece of myself in Colt’s room that night. He stole it from me when he touched my bare rear with his bare hand, as if he’d sucked it right out of my flesh and absorbed it into his.

But whatever happened between us in that moment when he’d sat me on his lap, only solidified my resolve to escape, quickly. To do so, I needed a time when The Dark Blade was close to land and hopefully, with the promise of inclement weather. Each day I watched the skies, looking for signs of impending rain, and I had my chance when we departed Saint Augustine.

Did I feel guilty when I let the chicken spoil and discreetly added it to the turtle soup, ensuring everyone would fall ill?

Maybe, but not so much for the men who’d wanted to see me whipped, more for Conks and Johnson and Miguel.

No guilt for Colt, either. He deserved it.

It was easy to refrain from eating the soup that evening, everyone knew I hated it.

I never heard a sweeter sound than that of the first crewman’s groan. It was quickly followed by several more and I had to hide my smile. Soon, everyone retreated to their hammocks, desperate to find some comfort as the ache in their stomachs grew. By nightfall, I finally had a flash of good luck after years of misfortune. Rain pelted the ship hard enough to keep everyone below deck, yet the seas didn’t toss so much that I wouldn’t be able to escape in the jolly boat.

Dutifully, I flitted about the ship as I tended to the very men I’d sickened. I brought clean rags and fresh water, as well as emptied many soiled buckets. The smell of sick was so pungent I nearly vomited myself.

I wondered if the illness would come out the other end, and hoped I escaped beforehand.

The moon was high when most of the crew had fallen into a fitful slumber. Those who remained awake paid me no mind as they were too busy vomiting the contents of their stomachs every quarter hour. Not a single man climbed the rigs or stood watch upon the deck. I’d never heard the ship so quiet before.

It’s time.

I crept down the stairs and into Colt’s cabin. He was fast asleep in his bed, a sheen of sweat covering his body. The captain was bare from the waist up, and perhaps below as well, though I couldn’t tell with the linens pulled across his midsection. Quietly, I retrieved the Crimson Eye from its hiding place beneath the floorboards and approached Colt’s bed.

Slumbering, he didn’t seem as much of a beast. His brow furrowed in pain and his face was deathly pale. Remembering he’d eaten my share of the turtle soup so it would not go to waste, I realized he was sicker than the others and I almost felt bad. Almost.

Quickly, I used my dirk to cut a small hole in the seam of Colt’s mattress. Careful not to disturb him, I shoved the Crimson Eye inside and got to work on the longest part of my plan -- sewing the mattress without allowing the stiches to give me away without closer examination. A normal man wouldn’t notice something like that, but Colt was fastidious and I needed to keep him occupied in searching for the Eye. It would buy me time as I drifted… hopefully to shore.

I gulped. It was a huge risk. But I’d packed food and fresh water to keep myself alive for several days, if necessary.

I completed my sewing and had turned to leave when I spied Colt’s dirk on the dining table. The shining blade beckoned, and, entranced, I slowly walked forward and grabbed it.

I could kill him before I escape.

Then I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone chasing me; the men would be too busy fighting amongst themselves as to what to do next.

I crept back to Colt’s sleeping form.

I could avenge my father. Myself.

I held the blade aloft.

All those times Colt put me over his knees. How he’d dared to look at my backside.

How it made me feel… confusing things.

God, how I hated him. I could do it. My grip tightened on the handle.

Kill him.

Colt suddenly moaned and my stomach dropped. The world spun as his eyes fluttered open and locked on me. The terror I felt in that moment nearly made me swoon.

Oh god, my plan’s over. Before it even began.

“Charlotte,” Colt rasped, eyes unfocused.

He’d never called me by my name before.Did he not see the blade?

“Do you know how I love you?” Colt murmured.

My mouth fell and my heart gave a curious, achy beat against my ribcage.

For several moments I stood frozen in fear and immobilized by confusion.

Love me?

Insanity. It must have been the sickness talking.

“Can you ever forgive me for killing your father?” Colt mumbled, gaze unfocused in his fever-state.

No, I wanted to shout, I hate you so much.

But as angry tears sprung to my eyes, Colt closed his, returning to a fitful slumber.

For another few heartbeats, I remained still. Colt had never admitted any guilt in the murder of my father before and he’d certainly never asked forgiveness. The tiniest voice in my head said things I didn’t want to hear. Things like, what happened wasn’t entirely Colt’s fault. But the voice was small enough that I was able to squash it.

Yet a worse voice took its place. Not quite forming words, but feelings. Horrid feelings to consider, like a ridiculous disappointment that Colt didn’t fully awaken, see what I was doing, and punish me for it.

Move, Charlotte, I commanded myself, shaking my head. You’re wasting time.

Rushing to Colt’s chest of drawers and tossing aside his clothing, I grabbed his bag o’ bits. There was enough gold in that purse to start a new life, one without beastly pirate captains trying to spank me.

With large, hard hands over strong, ample thighs.

I strapped the gold to my belt.

Thinner than his thick, supple leather.

Quietly, I crept to the cabin door.

With luck, while I sailed away, Colt and his crew would be too busy searching for the Crimson Eye to follow me. Whenever he next careened, he’d certainly scour and scrub the ship from top to bottom, including his mattress, as always. If he hadn’t located the gem by that point, he most certainly would once the crew began their unusually thorough cleaning.

As much as I wanted to see Colt at the bottom of the ocean, I would never rob Conks or Johnson or Miguel of their future -- a future that could be purchased with that stunning gem. And Colt knew it.

The captain and his bag o’ bits, however… well, that was payment owed for everything he’d done to me.

My heart pounded in my ears as I made my way above deck with the gold, a sack of food, and a canteen of water. The moon broke through the rain clouds and I was thankful because, without the ship’s torchlights, the world would have been utter darkness. Sick below deck, either no one had bothered to light them or they’d been put out by the rain.

I crossed the wet and slippery deck and headed straight for the jolly boat. I began pulling the ropes, alternating between fore and aft. It would be tricky without assistance, but I needed to lower the boat into the sea and jump. Then, safely aboard, I could cut the ropes and sail away to freedom.

I’d managed about halfway when the ropes stuck.

“Dammit,” I cursed, wiping rain from my sweaty brow. I peered overboard to see the boat dangling about halfway to the sea. But no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t muster the strength to free the ropes. I needed more muscle.

My pulse raced and an insistent pounding began in my head. Desperate, I sawed at the ropes with my dirk; first one, then the other. I figured I could cut the ropes enough so that when I jumped into the boat, maybe my weight would snap the final fibers and we’d plunge into the sea. If that failed, I could at least jump aboard and try to cut the ropes from below. But watching the jolly boat smack against the hull of the ship and imagining everything that could go wrong once I was inside make my gut twist in fear. If I couldn’t get unstuck, I’d neither be free to sail away nor able to climb back aboard The Dark Blade.

“Going somewhere?” asked a voice behind me and I jumped, nearly dropping my dirk. With my heart in my throat, I turned to see Maurice.

“You know, I don’t like turtle soup either,” he drawled. Maurice looked more severe than usual with rain soaking his gaunt face. Sparse, graying hair stuck to his shiny forehead. “I guess it runs in the family.”

The ship rocked with a wave and I braced myself on the rail.

“What are you talking about?” I mumbled. I wasn’t really interested in listening, I just needed time to figure out how to thwart him and to continue readying the boat.

“You don’t look a thing like her,” Maurice said, shaking his head. “You don’t look anything like me either.”

A chill ran up my spine.

“But you do look like my mother,” Maurice declared. “Now that you’re starting to fill out.”

My stomach knotted as Maurice drew closer. If he began shouting for the men, I’d lose my chance of escape. If he tried to grab and restrain me, I’d never be able to fight him off.

Unless… I tightened my grip on my dagger.

“I first saw your mother when she was visiting family in Jamestown,” Maurice said, stalking closer. “She was much too stunning a beauty for your father. And what man leaves his lovely wife unchaperoned? I tried to tell her these things. I tried to show her, though she clawed at me and cried throughout.”

Maurice cocked his head. “I thought she was a spirited woman from the fight she put up. But alas…”

What was Maurice saying? The pounding in my head grew unbearable, making it even more difficult to make sense of his words.

“By the time your mother reunited with her ridiculous husband, returning from whatever fool’s endeavor he’d been upon, she was already ripening with my child.” Maurice licked his lips. “You.”

Nonsense, gibberish, insanity.

“You’re crazy!” I spat. The ship rocked again and I hoped the jolly boat didn’t drop into the sea without me.

Why was he saying these things?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I protested, stalling. “This is all some story to cover up the truth, isn’t it? You killed my mother, didn’t you?”

“The captain already told you,” Maurice said calmly. “She killed herself.”

“Liar!” My hands tightened on both the ropes and my dirk, unsure about the best way to escape the looming threat of Maurice advancing.

“Well then, you could say you killed her, if you look at it another way,” Maurice said evenly.

I wanted him to stop talking so badly, I fantasized about stabbing him in his malicious mouth. Each of his words felt like the prick of a blade into my heart. It hurt so much I pressed the heel of my hand into my chest. I was sure I bled, sure it would soak through my shirt at any moment.

“I was coming for her,” Maurice insisted. He seemed the embodiment of blood-curdling evil as he spoke. “But she couldn’t stand to be parted from you and she couldn’t accept life with a pirate like myself,” he mocked, sneering. “So when she received news I’d landed, she put a pistol to her head and pulled the trigger.”

“Stop lying!” I cried.

“You were left alone with her now-widowed husband,” Maurice said. “But he’s no father of yours.”

Tears soaked my face, indistinguishable from the rain.

“Deep down, I’d had the thought…” Maurice mused. “When you were first brought aboard. But that child had been female. And what were the odds that it lived? That it found its way onto my very ship? It wasn’t until Robert tied you to the mast and we all saw the truth that I knew. Fate brought you to this ship. To me. To Colton.”

I tensed my fingers around the dagger’s handle once more.

“Colt wants you as I wanted your mother,” Maurice said, smiling as if his words were happy ones. “I shouldn’t be surprised he takes after me. I raised him like a son, after all. But you, my dear Charlotte, you are my actual daughter.”

“Stop saying that!” I screamed. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand was flying sloppily toward Maurice and I’d stabbed him high, near his right shoulder.

He wasn’t prepared for my rage, but he quickly recovered, lunging for me. I leapt backwards, dirk still in my hand, and scrambled onto the wet and slippery ship’s rail. With one hand I clung to the rope above my head. I didn’t have the chance to jump before I was forced to turn as Maurice attacked, face twisted in fury.

Had he determined to push me into the sea, it would have meant my eventual drowning. But either because he thought he was my father or because he wanted me for Colt, Maurice instead struggled to pull me back onto the ship. It gave me the opportunity to stab him once more, lower in his abdomen in what would hopefully be a fatal wound.

But it cost me my balance.

When Maurice tried to deflect the stab, he knocked me backwards.

By sheer luck, I fell into the jolly boat and not the dark sea. The fall was enough to snap the final frays of rope and plunge the boat itself into the waves.

But my luck had run out as when I fell backwards, my head smacked against the wooden railing with such force it not only knocked me unconscious, it knocked all sense of self from my head along with it.

That night the moon set upon the truth of Charlotte Clarke: orphaned daughter, pirate, thief, murderess. By the time the sun rose, I was Charlotte in name only -- a name engraved upon the back of my locket, my only possession. I’d lost my rations and my bag o’ bits to the sea.

Somehow, I’d even managed to lose my clothing.

I awoke ashore, bare and mysterious, like the goddess Aphrodite herself coming out of the waves.

I liked that story so much better, I’d wanted to believe it.