Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Connor and a crew of six had been assigned to the daily duty of swabbing the decks. He was sent to the poop deck at the stern of the ship. Furness, McTavish and Coats were exempt from this daily duty, but the rest of them were not and were assigned roughly every third day to a stint of it.

He was down on his knees scrubbing when he got that tell-tale tingle on the back of his neck. The sound of booted heels circled him, and a pair of scuffed brown leather boots entered his line of sight.

He raised his eyes slowly, taking in the long boots and shapely thighs encased in tight, black breeches. The most interesting bits were screened by the old-fashioned long waistcoat and full skirted jacket that she wore, but the open collar of her shirt hinted at the shadow of her cleavage. Sitting back on his haunches, he brought his eyes reluctantly to her face. It was shadowed by the brim of her tricorn hat, as old-fashioned as the rest of her garb. A flash of white revealed her teeth in a grin.

“Gainfully employed I see Irish!”

“Aye Captain.” he responded warily. Why is she seeking me out?

“You did well this morning for a man who was terrified.”

He flushed, was it that damned obvious?

“Don’t deny it,” she said quickly. “I know terror when I see it. You’re not the first and won’t be the last that’s afraid of the rig. The point was you did it, in spite of the fear. My father taught me that bravery is not the absence of fear but the strength to accomplish something in the face of it.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you. I intend to practice, it’s the only way to control the fear.”

She smiled again. “Good man.” She crouched down to his level and said quietly, “I’ve been watching you. The men like you. Do you think they’ll follow you?”

“Aye,” he said cautiously, wondering where this was going. A faint whiff of her natural scent assailed his nostrils and stirred his cock. She seemed oblivious to the debauched position she was crouched in before him with her knees spread and the crotch of her breeches showing. In a man the position was nothing, in a woman... he swallowed and dragged his eyes back to her face, hoping she hadn’t caught him looking.

“Can you do sums?” she asked abruptly.

“Aye, I kept the books for my employer.” He’d been Garmon’s Manager, in charge of the day to day running of Lovell’s Gaming Hell, and later, after Garmon lost the hell to the Duke of Mowbray, he’d been his right hand in helping him set up and run the network of informants that ran much of the underground crime in the City of London.

Her eyes widened and her grin broadened. “Excellent!” She rose. “Finish here and come to my cabin, I’ve a job for you.”

“Aye Captain.” But he spoke to thin air, she’d turned on her heel and was off the poop deck in nothing flat. Leaving a sense of energy behind her and an uncomfortable heat in his breeches. Damn it there are more than a dozen women on this ship, why do I have to develop an attraction to the one most likely to want to take me balls off?

He grinned. Precisely because she thought she could. The woman was pure chaos, and he couldn’t deny she heated his blood. She energised the air around her. He could feel her whenever she got close or looked at him. What would the darlin’ look like in petticoats?

He continued to scrub the deck, careful not to rush the job, as much as he was impatient to discover what she wanted with him, distracted by thoughts of the delectable Callista Montmayne in skirts. Easier to tup her in a skirt. But it might be fun to rip those breeches off and...

No!If he indulged this sort of fantasy, it would make it much more difficult to maintain control over the situation. She already had the upper hand as to power on the ship. I don’t need to hand her me balls on a platter to boot!

The captain’scabin was a spacious apartment, as ship’s accommodation goes, it took up three quarters of the poop deck above it and was bathed in sunlight through the windows cut into the curved wall of the stern. A thick carpet on the floor, beneath a large mahogany desk and three chairs dominated the centre of the room. A bunk against one wall with a carved wooden footlocker at its base and a cabinet behind the desk were the principal furnishings. A large portrait of a dark-haired man took up most of the wall in which the door was situated.

Connor took all this in with a rapid sweep of his eyes, but it was the captain herself who captured most of his attention. She had taken her hat off and for the first time he saw that she had guinea gold hair, it was confined to a plait, but tendrils escaped round her face and neck, softening the severity of the style. He wondered fleetingly what it would look like loose round her shoulders...

She had also removed her jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her loose linen shirt. The jacket was hung over the back of the desk chair, a large and imposing piece of furniture with lions’ feet to match the desk. The hat had been tossed onto the footlocker.

She was seated at the desk with what looked like a large ledger open before her. She glanced up and waved him to one of the guest chairs. Much less imposing than the one she sat in.

“Come in Irish, take a seat.”

He did so, leaning forward on his elbows and clasping his hands between his knees. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

She flipped the book around and motioned him to come closer. Rising, he bent over the book, he was right, it was a ledger.

“Read the first few lines to me,” she said.

“Salted beef, one hundred pounds, flour fifty pounds, pickled herring fifty pounds...”

She nodded and presented him with another sheet. “Add up this column of figures and tell me the total.” She had her finger over the total, so he couldn’t cheat, not that he needed to. He added the figures in his head and gave her the total.

She smiled, “Good. Sit down, Irish.”

He resumed his seat, and she leaned over the ledger propping her linked hands under her chin. Her skin was a golden tan but her eyes, he discovered were a deep turquoise blue. They held flecks of gold, and were the source, he further discovered, of the magnetic energy she radiated like a lodestone. A man could drown in those eyes. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and moved his elbows to the arms of the chair to ensure his clasped hands hid the tenting in his breeches.

“I need a Quartermaster, Mr Mor, and I believe you may have the skills for the job. Interested?”

“What exactly does the role entail?”

“It’s a position of considerable responsibility and authority. It puts you in charge of the crew, except when we’re under fire, when the Gunner, Lieutenant Coats has authority over the gun crews. The primary functions of the role are to manage the stores and divvy up the prize money. Hence, why I needed to check you can add up. Only my authority can overrule yours.”

“I’ve no experience running a ship, why give me the authority to do a job I have no experience in?”

“In reality Lin Chen our Bosun will run the crew, listen to her, she knows what she is doing. What you will do is enforce her authority over the men. You understand me?”

He nodded slowly. Callista Montmayne was a clever woman. He smiled. “I believe I do.”

“Mr Harper reports to me directly and when we’re under fire so does Mr Coats. Dev is also mine. The rest of the crew, male and female report to Chen, who’ll report to you. I have one instruction to you, don’t overrule her, support her. If you have an issue with something she does or suggests, bring it me. In order to maintain stability, you and Chen need to be on the same page. If the men sniff any division between you, they’ll use it to mutiny. You’ll get the quartermasters cabin and a bigger share of the prize money. There are a few other perks of the job too as you’ll find out, should you get the job.” She stopped, watching him carefully. “Well?”

She’d certainly surprised him; it was the last thing he had expected when he came in here. He’d wanted a way to get control of the ship, and she’d handed it to him on a platter. He could see the sense in her plan, it was clever, provide he was loyal to her. What makes her think I will be? She needed to trust him. And that would be her fatal error.

But in order to carry out his plan, he needed to cement his position with the crew, all the crew. As he understood it, pirate crews, of which this was undoubtedly one, for all her talk of privateering, were democratic and elected their captains. If he was to become captain, he had a lot to learn and lot to do to gain the loyalty and trust of the crew, old and new. It wasn’t something he could do overnight. He’d be tossed overboard faster than a rotten fish if he tried.

The first person he had to convince of his loyalty was the captain herself. Once he had her confidence, all else would follow. And he didn’t fool himself he had it yet. She’d be an idiot if she didn’t keep him on a tight leash and test him first. And he was certain that Callista Montmayne was not an idiot.

“I would be honoured Captain,” he rose and gave her a respectful bow. Begin as ye mean t’ go on, Con, ye’ll need yer wits about ye.

“You’ve not won the post yet, mind. This is a democratic ship; the proposal will have to be put to the crew. You’ll need the numbers first before we put it to them. That’s up to you. Fury will oppose you.”

He already knew that. Their last argument had driven a wedge into their uneasy alliance. “Understood. What does Miss Lin think of this arrangement?”

“Chen was all for it. No one understands shipboard politics better than Chen. I’ve lived my whole life on a ship, and she still has things to teach me. I meant it when I said listen to her, you won’t last five minutes if you don’t.” She rose from her chair and bent over to open the cabinet. Which gave him a nice view of her round rump and caused another flush of heat to rise up his body and his cock to stiffen further in his breeches. Damn it. Ye need to control that!

She turned back with a crystal cut decanter half full of an amber liquid and two matching glasses. She poured two generous fingers into each glass and offered him one.

“One of the those perks I was telling you about.” she said clinking her glass to his. “Here’s to a productive and profitable partnership, Irish.”

She took a generous mouthful, and he watched her hold it in her mouth for a blissful moment before swallowing, her eyes closed to enjoy it all the more. He clenched his teeth against the ache in his groin that provoked. The pleasure in her face... Christ and all the Saints if I could make her look like that, with me fingers, me mouth, me cock...

She opened her eyes and waved her glass. “Try it, it’s good. Better than the rotgut you’ve been drinking.”

He raised his glass and took a mouthful. Peaty, malty heat exploded on his tongue. Whisky. Good quality whisky. He swallowed and let the heat burn all the way to his stomach.

“Ye’re right,” he said mildly. What other perks of the job are there darlin’?

“So, tell me a bit about yourself,” she said, lifting her boots onto the desk and crossing her ankles. “You were born in Ireland, obviously.”

“Aye although I don’t remember it. Me father was an ostler, but he suffered a kick to the head from a horse that made him simple, and he couldn’t work as he used to. So, me parents migrated to London and wound up in St Giles. Mother had to work and look after me and father. It was very hard on her, I imagine. I don’t remember much about it to be honest.” He paused I do remember they loved me and each other. “I have a couple of fond memories, more feelings than actual memories. When I was five, they both caught typhoid and died. I became a mudlark and a pickpocket to survive.”

“That must have been tough.”

He shrugged. “I never knew any different. When I was eight, I came across a man called Garmon Lovell bleeding from a knife fight in an alley. I staunched the blood and me and a couple of the other lads got him to his home. I nursed him until he recovered. He sort of adopted me after that. I grew up working for him. It was his business that I managed the books for. He taught me how to read and write and add up.”

She sipped her whisky. “Can you fight?”

He smiled. “Aye, I can take care of meself in a fist fight. I’m a might lethal with a knife and sword and I’m a fair shot with a pistol too.”

“Good you’ll be useful when we meet Perez then.”

“Tell me about Perez,” he invited, taking another swallow of the whisky. She topped up both their glasses and got more comfortable in her chair.

She nodded to the portrait behind him. “That is my father, Caruso Montmayne. The Sea Devil was his ship. It’s been my home since I was five, when he bought it. Perez killed him.”

“So going after Perez is personal.”

“Very.” she said emphatically.

“What happened?”

“My father had obtained a Letter of Marque from the British Government to assist in bringing down Slave Traders. We targeted Perez Ship, the Esperanza. There was a fire fight, we took damage, and my father led a boarding party onto the Esperanza, but we were outnumbered three to one.

“Perez and my father fought, and Papa was fatally wounded by Perez. We got him back on board the Sea Devil and fled before Perez’s men could decimate the ship, but we lost ten men that day and my father didn’t survive the night.

“We limped into port in Jamaica and the Bosun tried to take command of the ship. I cut his balls off and the men refused to serve under me and left, all except Mr Harper and Mr Adebayo. I then recruited Lin Chen. She brought several of the other women with her. She helped me recruit the rest.”

“So, the tale about ye taking a man’s balls is true?”

“It’s true.” she swallowed the last of her whisky and regarded him over the rim of the glass. “That is all you took from that tale?”

“No, but it is probably the point of most interest to me. I’m a tad fond of me family jewels ye see.”

She snorted and rose. Turning back to the cabinet, she fished out another bottle, this one was dark glass, and she replaced the decanter back in the cupboard. “Saving the good stuff, can’t drink it all at once”. She pulled out the cork with her teeth and topped up their glasses with a darker liquor. He sniffed and sipped. Rum, but better quality than the grog served up to the men.

“Why did Harper and Adebayo stay?”

“Mick Harper’s been with my father since before I was born, they served in the British Navy together before they turned pirate.” She grinned. “Mr Adebayo was a slave on Perez ship, emancipated by my father. He lost a leg to gangrene on the voyage along with his wife and two daughters. Catching Perez is as personal to him as it is to me.”

He nodded. The whisky and the rum on an empty stomach was making him light-headed and mellow.

“Dev’s been with us since he was a lad of six, he has nowhere else to go. Papa acquired him in a card game in Calcutta.” She stretched her neck, staring at the ceiling. “So, you understand now why we needed to acquire some male crew? The women do their best, but there aren’t enough of them. Female sailors are thin on the ground, I think I recruited all that were available in Jamaica and there are few places to find more women desperate enough to be willing to sail, let alone any with shipboard experience.

“The Sea Devil ideally needs a crew of fifty or more. Running her with less than forty hands is risky, but we had run out of time to press any more men. I need to get to Jamaica by the end of July or I risk missing Perez and failing to emancipate his cargo.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “But if you were outnumbered three to one and decimated with an all-male crew, how do you propose to take Perez out with a fifty percent female crew and less numbers than you had before?”

She pursed her lips and looked at her glass. “By fighting smarter not harder. With an experienced gunner I plan to scupper the ship before we board this time.”

“I’ll bow to your greater knowledge of ship warfare, it’s something I know nothing about.” He paused and went on, “Are you sure you want me for quartermaster? Wouldn’t Coats be a better choice? He’s experienced and clearly used to command.”

“I thought about it, but I can’t have his attention divided. His role as gunner is crucial if we’re to defeat Perez.”

“What about Harper?” he queried.

“Same reason, he’s the navigator, can’t split his attention. In any case, just between you and me, Mick has issues that can make him - ah–unreliable at times.”

He bowed his head. “Well, I’m flattered by your faith in me Captain.”

She contemplated him over her glass. “Don’t let me be wrong about you, Irish. You’ll regret it if you do.”

In the act of raising his glass to finish the last of the rum, he lowered it and met her gaze directly. A frisson of sensation washed over his skin and his cock stiffened painfully. Fuck I want her! It was no use pretending he didn’t, the challenge in her eyes excited him to the point of recklessness. He wanted to stand up, walk round her desk and pull her up into his arms and kiss her senseless. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Swallowing the rum, he forced himself to lean back nonchalantly in his chair and pretend there wasn’t an enormous bulge in his breeches. If she noticed he didn’t care. All the better if she knew he wanted her. She was an attractive woman in a man’s world, she would be used to it. The trick was to make her want him as much in return, before he seduced her. Which I will. I’ll have her over the desk, up against the wall, on the bunk, on the floor, and a dozen places all over the fucking ship, before I’m finished with her.

“Irish!” her voice interrupted his erotic reverie, and he brought his gaze back to her with a start. She gave him a wry half smile as if she’d divined his thoughts and was amused by them. Which wasn’t good, he needed to have her panting for him, not laughing at him.

“Sorry Captain, I was distracted, what did you say?” he set the empty glass down on the desk and gave her his best sultry eyed smile. It never failed to reduce women to a puddle of want.

Well with one exception, Diana, Garmon’s niece, had proved immune to his smiles and blandishments. That wouldn’t happen here.

Just to emphasise the point he leaned back again and placed a hand deliberately over that bulge and squeezed.

Her gaze followed his hand and her lips parted slightly, her tongue appeared and briefly licked her lower lip. He swallowed a groan, God if she kept that up, he’d come in his breeches! Fucking hell woman!

A faint flush stained her cheeks. Got you! He thought with satisfaction.

She leaned back in her chair, mirroring his casual attitude and lifted her feet to the desk, crossing them at the ankles. “If you have the crotch itch Irish, see the ships doctor Liang Mei.” She sipped her rum and grinned at him.

He flushed and let himself go, sitting forward. Embarrassment warred with annoyance. “I do not!” he said shortly. Rising to his feet he gave her a curt bow. “I’ve work to do so I’ll bid ye good day. Thankee fer the drink and the opportunity. I’ll keep ye apprised of me progress.”

“Good luck,” she said to his back as he let himself out of the cabin and resisted the temptation to slam the door. He stalked up to the deck thinking of all the ways he would like to torture Miss Callista Montmayne and teach her who was boss.

Alone in her cabin,Callista chuckled. His face! She was tempted to share this one with Chen but decided against it. There was something personal in it that she couldn’t bring herself to share. Yes, his cocksure attitude amused her, but his obvious attraction to her, which wasn’t feigned, was flattering, and her body, she was honest enough to admit, responded to it. She wriggled in her chair, the damp swollen spot between her legs a dead give-away.

She’d called him pretty, but he was much more than that. He was hauntingly attractive in a very disturbing way, teasing him was her best defence. The situation was too politically fraught right now to indulge in any physical fraternisation, or she might be tempted to let him know the attraction was mutual. If things stabilised... she’d think about it. In the meantime, she’d have to stick to fantasies and so would he. Nothing and no one was getting between her and her goal of bringing down Perez.