Chapter One: James

The Caribbean. 1691 A.D.

James grinned. “We’re rich.”

Lancewood, his first mate, pushed the cup over to him. “That we are.” He looked at the bejewelled cross. “It’s beautiful.”

“The Cross of Corinth.” James said with a blatantly hungry grin. “Centuries old, and worth a whole fleet. They were wise to hide it in with their livestock. With so many cases of pretties in their cargo hold, who would have looked further?”

“You can’t keep it.” Lancewood said, as though reminding him. “We took enough gold and silver that I was honestly worried the ship was going to go under. But this? They’ll put a price so big on your head that you’ll never get a chance to sell it.”

“I have plans of my own for this one.” James promised, and raised his voice. “Smitty!”

The door opened, and Smitty entered the Captain’s Cabin, saluting reflexively. “Cap’n?”

James grinned, and held the prize out to him. “Take it downstairs, put it with the rest of the booty.” He saw the hungry reverence in Smitty’s eyes as he handed it over. “Once you’re done drooling on it, that is.”

Smitty schooled his expression, and crossed himself automatically as he took the bejewelled crucifix. “Thank you, sir.”

“Smitty?” Lancewood called, pouring again. “Have a drink. You earned it. And this is the good stuff.”

Smitty glanced at James, who gave him a tight nod. Lancewood was a relatively new addition to the crew, and this was his first run as First Mate. Smitty took his cup of Rum, and toasted them both as he backed out of the Stateroom.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t keep it for your share.” Lancewood commented, watching the Crucifix leave. “It’s pretty clear what you were after on that last raid.”

“It won’t go far.” James promised. “I’m surprised you aren’t trying to get it yourself. It’s the choicest piece of pretty we looted. And you picked most of the people we lost. More than I did.”

“The Prize is worth it.” Lancewood said easily, and poured a little more rum into the Captain’s still-untouched goblet.

“You think so? It was a pretty brutal fight.”

“And we won.” Lancewood insisted. “Isn’t that how this works?”

James picked up his goblet, and raised it to him. “Well then. To the victorious dead.”

“And to the wealth of the last men standing.” Lancewood returned, raising his own mug. But neither of them sipped, eyes on each other.

“Lancewood, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” James said with an icy smirk.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re thinkin’, Cap’n.” Lancewood said brightly.

“I’m thinking that after pouring for both of us the second you walked in here… I’ve yet to see you take a sip.” James drawled, one hand resting on his cutlass, the other pointedly extending to pour his untouched cup out on the deck.

Silence.

“Clever, Captain.” Lancewood rested a hand casually on his pistol. “I couldn’t get you a deal, James. But I don’t suppose you’d want one. You’d always rather swing than bow.”

“Traitor!” James snarled, and rose to his full height. “I knew you would sell us out.”

“No, Cap’n. You didn’t. You didn’t hire this crew, I did. Most of them, anyway. Half your loyalists died taking my new fortune.”

“So did a third of the men you hired.” James snarled. “You know what the rest of them said, when we buried our dead at sea?”

“More for the rest of us.” Lancewood nodded. “Nature of the life. We stopped being honorable sailors some time ago. We’re Pirates. And Pirates get paid. I’m not looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. There’s nowhere we can go that the Spaniards won’t hunt us.”

“But if someone were to make them an offer, say half the plunder and the crew that stole it…” James nodded, unsurprised.

“A third, actually. They were agreeable to that. And with most of the crew gone after tonight, it will be enough.” Lancewood drew his pistol. “I will do you one favor. You won’t be taken in chains. They’ll probably string your bones up as a warning to some proper Spanish Port; but by then you won’t care.”

Lancewood aimed and pulled the trigger. The charge ignited with a huge bang…

And James grinned. “I took the shot out of your pistol three hours ago, Traitor.”

Lancewood checked his gun, though it made no difference. “You knew?”

“I suspected.” James nodded, drawing his sword slowly; letting the metal screech. “You didn’t dicker over your share. As First Mate, you were entitled to more of The Prize, but you didn’t even suggest it. It was pretty clear you weren’t going to play by the rules.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me sooner?”

James grinned savagely. “Well, like you said, most of the crew were your pick. Which of them could I trust? After all, it wasn’t difficult to tell my surviving loyalists not to drink or eat anything you touched. And with all your mutineers out of the picture, the haul is worth the extra work.”

From outside the room came the sound of battle, swords ringing off each other, pistols being fired quickly, screams of pain.

“I’m guessing that shot was your signal, eh?” James drew his sword. “Your mutineers think I’m dead, so they’re making their move?”

“Even if you win, you won’t escape. They’re already on the way; and I made sure your cannons won’t be worth spit.” Lancewood nodded. “You can’t win, James. There are more of us than you.”

“They won’t fight for you if you’re dead.” James reminded him, and lunged forward swinging his cutlass to kill. Lancewood reared back, but not in time. The blade caught his neck, and the man dropped with a splash of red.

There was the sound of gunfire from outside, and James knew he couldn’t linger over the victory.

Out on the deck, there was a battle being waged. Lancewood’s men had expected to find drugged or poisoned opponents, and instead found James’ men were ready for them. The battle was pitched and desperate, with survival as the prize.

James lunged towards Smitty, his oldest surviving friend. The huge Dutchman had a cutlass in each hand, holding three of them back, as James joined his people. A cheer went up when they saw their captain. Even as steel rang out against steel; James could see the light dim in the Traitors’ eyes. Their Mutiny had failed. Lancewood was no doubt beaten; and that left them without a Captain to fight for.

But they kept fighting. James’ sharp eyes saw snipers reloading in the Crowsnest, and tapped Smitty to follow him up to the wheel. It was a mean duel when they got there, the two of them fighting back to back against three.

James took the wheel from one of Lancewood’s conspirators, and forced him back with the swing of his sword. “Scarlett, you swine! It was two days ago I saved your miserable hide from a Spanish shot.”

The mutineer actually looked sorry. “Nothing personal, Captain. But I got a better offer.”

James danced back neatly as Scarlett swung. The blade missed him and hit timber. It bit deep, carving a notch in the wheel; deep enough that the traitor couldn’t pull it free, as James ran him through.

“Down!” Smitty roared, and James felt the huge man tackle him from behind, just as the shot from the Crowsnest whistled past them both. James kicked the wheel, still from the deck, and the ship started to turn. The sails turned into the wind, and the ship suddenly lurched as the sails lofted, jerking the crowsnest back sharply enough that the sniper, already leaning out too far, fell from his perch.

The fight lasted only a few minutes more, but not one Mutineer was willing to surrender. Fighting them all down took most of the crew working together; until casualties grew heavy.

The ship had been saved, but there were few of them left; and the Ships Doctor was not among them. The six survivors made their way below decks. Keller bled out while his four friends stood around him helplessly, trying to make sense of the dead doctor’s tools. James poured whiskey into Keller’s lips for as long as he could, until the wounded man finally gave in.

There was a heavy silence, broken only by Smitty, reading a few verses over the bodies. His Bible had a lot of pages missing, torn out one by one by desperate crew, rolling their own tobacco. James went out of the room to lower the anchor. Five crew left, and nobody at the helm. Even in a light fog, that could be dangerous.

“I don’t understand.” Smitty said. “If Lancewood is dead, then they must have known that. The Mutineers must have seen you. Why’d they keep fighting?”

BOOM!

It was a warning shot. The survivors all ran up on deck. On the horizon was ship under full sail. A Galleon, flying the Spanish Flag.

“That’s why.” James snarled. “Lancewood cut a deal with the Spanish. They get us, he gets a cut of what we’ve taken. They fought to the last man because they had reinf-”

“We have to run!” Smitty said, grabbing for the wheel.

“No. Strike the colors.” James said immediately.

His surviving crew stared at him in disbelief. “Surrender?! You have any idea what a Spanish Court would do to us?”

“All too well.” James acknowledged.

“They can’t arrest us. These aren’t their waters.” Anatoly argued. “They don’t have the authority.”

“Which means they’ll just kill us all, if we’re lucky.” James scorned. “Authority comes from the whim of whoever’s pointing the biggest gun. But if we turn to run, they’ll have us from the stern; and we’re dead. Lancewood told them he’d have the ship ready and waiting. We fight, they’ll sink us. We give them what they expect, they’ll come right up alongside to board us; nice and slow.” James gestured swiftly. “Now there are five of us. You all go below, load everything on the Lower Starboard Gun Deck and be ready to fire all when I give the signal. I’m going back to my cabin to get Lancewood’s coat and Hat. They see me on deck, they’ll think it’s their man, signaling the all clear.”

Smitty grinned, swiftly understanding. “And when they stand easy and roll right up next to us…”

“We hole them below their waterline, and they won’t be able to give chase.” James summed up; keeping his face even. “You’ll only have one shot from each Cannon. Make them count.”

“Those ships have more than twice our guns, and our numbers are down to less than ten.” Anatoly warned. “We might get a lucky hit, but we’ll never...”

James drew his sword. “I’ve cut down five traitorous souls today, Anatoly. My sword is always hungry for more. You have your orders. Would you rather take your chances with the sharks, the Spaniards, or with me?”

Anatoly backed down. “Ayesir.”

“Smitty. Lead them below.” James turned to go.

Smitty clasped his hand quickly. “Bleed for no Flag.”

“Bow to no King.” James grinned, despite himself, at the old promise they had made when they started out.

Smitty pulled a medallion on a chain from around his neck and pushed it at his friend. “May St Nicholas hold the tiller for you.” He said as he went below deck.

James felt the smile run away from his face the second he was alone on deck. If Lancewood had been telling the truth about sabotaging the cannon, then his people wouldn’t have a hope of escaping prison walls.

There was only one option left.

~oo00oo~

James returned to his stateroom, and spared a glance at the body of his treacherous First Mate. “This is your fault.” He told the body. “You did this to them, not me.”

With that, he went to the Captain’s Chest and put all his strength into dragging it. It was full to bursting with the choicest pieces of wealth they’d plundered. A King’s Ransom in specific prizes and treasures, worth more than everything else in the ship put together.

The Spanish ships were pulling in their sails, spilling their speed. They knew nobody would be firing back. They could take their time.

Time enough for an escape.

With the enemy inching closer, adrenaline gave him strength, and it took only a few minutes to load a boat. It was enough for ten men, so there was just enough room for the chest, and sufficient provisions.

“Sorry, Smitty.” James said, feeling bad about it. “But five men can’t get this ship to Port. Not with a Pirate Hunter having us by the hip.” He would genuinely have preferred another way, but with the Galleon closing in, he couldn’t risk it all on such long odds. “You’ll forgive me, one day.”

His men would buy him time to reach the fog; and with so many bodies after the mutiny, nobody would notice he was gone. With all the treasure recovered, they might not even look.

James caught himself on that thought. The Captain’s Share held everything he would need… except the Cross of Corinth.

For a tortured moment, he hesitated, before he quickly scrambled back up on deck. He’d have to chance it. The Galleon was close enough that he had to duck behind the desk railing to go unnoticed as he crept below deck. If the last of his crew saw him heading below the Gun Deck he was dead.

James looked at the St Nicholas Medallion for a moment. He wasn’t a believer, but there were no atheists on the battlefield, and he kissed the silver quickly.

When he reached the Cargo hold, he could barely move through it for all the loot his ship had taken. Lancewood hadn’t been wrong about how much they’d taken. Chests of dubloons, sacks of silver pieces…

It took him several minutes to find the Cross. Smitty had put it at the head of the room, in a place of reverence. James felt the weight of the Medallion around his neck, and wondered if Smitty had prayed when he put this away.

“Prayers don’t save people.” James whispered as he hoisted the cross, and tucked it safely into his belt. “But this Cross yet might.”

“I didn’t want to believe it.”

James spun smoothly, one hand on his sword-hilt, and found Smitty in the doorway, looking sick. His first real friend, and longest lived shipmate.

Smitty had a sword drawn already. “I didn’t want to believe you’d sent us off just to… what? Create a diversion while you escaped? It was ten minutes ago I saved your life, Cap’n.”

James sighed, resigned to doing this the hard way. “It was the only way, Smitty. You know I wouldn’t leave my crew if I had any other choice. See, I never told you what the plan was for the things I took as my own, and we don’t have time now for-”

“Just you and your blood money.” Smitty snarled.

“You didn’t mind drinking the blood money down when you had a cut.” James pointed out. “I meant what I said. It’s a long shot, but if you can get the ship away, it’s yours; and if you can’t, then I can still-”

BOOM! The ship lurched as the other ship’s cannons went off.

“Too late.” James sighed. “They decided just to sink us after all.”

“Yes, it is too late.” Smitty lunged at his Captain, sword flashing.

James jumped back, and felt the hoard filling his cargo hold hemming him in.

And then the world tilted as the ship was hit again, harder. James got to his feet first, and darted for the stairs.

There was the sound of metal sliding, and James felt a numbness suddenly growing in his arm. James spun, as blood poured from his arm, his sword blocking the next blow through sheer luck more than anything else.

“I was your oldest friend!” Smitty howled. “I sided with you against everyone! Every time you got us into a fight, I got you out of it.” His sword flashed, again and again and again. “You were going to let us all die! And for what?! Your damn gold!?”

“It was never about the money!” James roared back. “I bled for this ship!”

“WE ALL DID!” Smitty struck again.

As he swung, the ship lurched again, without cannonfire. James had spent his life on ships, feeling the ocean beneath his feet. He knew that they’d pulled free. The ship was moving again.

James grabbed a handful of spilled coins and threw them at Smitty, hurrying towards the stairs while he was distracted...

There was a half second of noise that seemed to shake apart the world. James had a flash of the wall erupting with a burst of shattered timber, and flame. Not time to dodge, or even to articulate the thought, just that millisecond of awareness that he was about to die-

James opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was a warm sunny day, which was odd, since it was meant to be the middle of the night, with fog rolled in. James found he was laying back on the… grass?

What’s going on?

His arm was working again. He was calm. He’d just been fighting for his life, and… He felt like he’d just woken from a good sleep. As he sat up, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he knew immediately that he wasn’t alone.

Beside him, but standing a respectful distance away, there were two figures. Both young and healthy, one large and heavily muscled man with dark skin, one caucasian woman. The woman was the single most attractive specimen that James had ever laid eyes on. He’d met Courtesans and Doxies from every corner of the Caribbean and Southern Seas, but this woman was almost supernaturally beautiful.

“Hello, James.” The beauty said with a smile. “My name is Karen; and this is my friend Irsu. I imagine you have some questions.”

“A few.” James admitted.

“Well, let’s see what we can do to answer them.” Karen said lightly, and James’ sharp eyes noticed her putting a green letter into her pocket. “Shall we go?”

“Go where?” James brushed off his clothes, which he discovered were not his own, but rather a comfortable set of non-descript breeches and tunic. The shoes were unlike anything he’d worn before, but noticed the woman wearing something similar in form. “Where am I?”

“The Southern Italian Region.” Karen reported.

James’ eyes flashed. “I am… not popular with the Italian Authorities.”

“They won’t be a problem.” Karen said with certainty. “That’s part of what I need to tell you.”

“Are you my Patron?”

“I’m your Welcome Wagon.” Karen said. “We have much to tell you, James. Many wonderful things.”

James said nothing to that as they started walking, already sizing up the escape routes. She knew his name. However he’d gotten there, his identity was known. If this was Italy, he was in danger.

“Thank you, Irsu; but I believe I can take it from here.” Karen said brightly to her friend. “And you have an appointment of your own to keep, do you not?”