away.”
Frink’s eyes narrowed as he
pondered Ollie’s unpardonable mistake,
interrupting the madman. Percy held his
breath, for he had seen that look and felt
the resulting effects of the man’s anger
before.
“That old crone didn’t seem
affected,” Frink stated matter-of-factly.
“That badger’s not as frail as this
one,” Ollie replied.
Frink backhanded Ollie in a fit of
explosive rage. “You bloody wastrel!
That is the last time you’ll interrupt me!”
Ollie clenched his fists. Frink
raised his cutlass, prepared to strike.
Percy warned Ollie off and stepped
forward. “Ollie had nothing to do with
this. I hit the girl, Captain. You heard her
scream. If there’s one thing I can’t stand,
it’s a blithering woman.”
Frink turned on him, stared hard,
and then growled a curse. The captain
would find no fault with his actions. In
fact, he expected Frink to applaud them.
The captain howled with demented
laughter. “That be the difference
between us, Sexton. I like a woman to
squirm and beg. You’ve always been
won over with soft-spoken words and
promises. Today, spawn, you’ve won
me respect.”
Turning toward his men, Frink
yelled above the din to men who
clamored to fight off the last of the
Octavia
’s crew. Fire burned on the bow,
lighting up the night, casting Frink in
sinister contrast to those who struggled
to survive. Wood snapped and crackled,
increasing the expectancy of everyone
present.
“You know’d the law when you
signed, Sexton,” Frink reminded him.
“Your disobedience has cost me on
more than one account. You’re a damn
good pirate, one with an insatiable
appetite I’ve yet to see quenched. And,”
he added, “you’re a man who’s outlasted
his turn more than once with the cat.”
Frink sneered as if that one act of
defiance irritated him. Then he raised
his cutlass high. Warily, Percy eyed
Frink, prepared to act should the captain
attack.
A cacophony of voices rent the
night,
some
bloodcurdling,
some
victorious. Sounds of shattering glass
and busted wood echoed in the air as
men tossed provisions to and from the
Octavia
to their ship, the
Striker
. Percy
held no illusions. Frink was a frayed
rope ready to snap. Like a male bird
preening for a mate, the fiend paced left,
then right. A captain’s life became
forfeit if his authority ever came into
question. Frink, better than any other,
knew how tenuous his position as
captain could be if he did not face down
any threat to his command, when it was
made. And Percy had always been
viewed as a threat.
“She looks a wee bit small. Pretty,
too. Were you fighting over her?” he
asked.
“Would it make a difference?”
Percy answered. “She wanted nothing to
do with either of us.”
Frink smiled a wicked purposeful
warning. “No? I suppose not. This one is
made of finer stuff than we’ve ever seen.
Will she survive? No matter. These
women never do. So to say whether or
not your attempts to bed her before me
were worth it or not, well … we shall
never know.”
Pure evil, Frink raised his cutlass
again to anyone who would listen.
“Captain Collins forfeited all rights to
parlay by aiming his guns at our ship!”
The
Striker
’s crew gathered around
Collins. Percy knew the only thing on the
minds of these men was the booty in the
Octavia
’s hull. No matter what occurred
next, they would not be denied their
share.
Frink pivoted on his heel and
pointed his cutlass at Percy’s neck.
“You’ll rue the day your mother
spawned you, Sexton. I should have had
you pickled for your insolence the first
day I laid eyes on you. This isn’t the first
time you’ve tried to steal me wench, nor
the last, I wager,” he added. Scratching
his wiry-haired chin, Frink stared at
Constance
pensively,
then
leaned
forward and lowered his voice. “You’re
a good man in a fight, but you’ve got a
bleeding heart. I was looking forward to
having the wench watch me conclude me
business with Captain Collins.”
Spinning around, Frink moved
quickly past Collins. One look proved
t he
Octavia
’s captain was seated and
helpless, a revolting sight to the most
stalwart stomach.
“What do you say, Collins?” Frink
bellowed. “That fair piece you carried
aboard might miss our little fun, but that
doesn’t mean we can’t conclude our
business, does it, men?”
A grand “hoorah” ignited the
crowd.
Captain
Collins
harrumphed.
“You’re despicable!”
A pirate smacked Collins over the
head, opening a new wound. Frink
shouted, encouraging his men, waving
his arms about like a thrashing squid.
Riotous laughter echoed about them.
Percy scanned the crowd of misbegotten
souls, finding two, four, ten men waiting
for his signal. He shook his head.
Patience.
Timing was everything.
Frink slashed his cutlass through
the air as he paced in front of Collins’s
unconscious form. Then, changing tactic,
he whirred the blade past Percy’s head.
Percy didn’t flinch. Thanks to
training he’d received within Nelson’s
Tea, his reflexes were on continuous
alert. He knew the minute Constance
began to regain consciousness. When she
stirred, he sheltered her face in the crook
of his arm so she wouldn’t be exposed to
Collins’s humiliating treatment.
“Be still,” he whispered, “if you
want to live.”
Catching the movement, Frink
shouted. “Bring the girl!”
Percy took a hesitant step forward.
Every second Constance came to being
fully awake increased her odds of
getting killed.
“Set her down. If she wakes up, I
want her to see what happens to those
who oppose me,” Frink ordered.
Percy laid Constance on the ground.
“Do not move,” he warned her.
Her eyes flickered open. Those
startling green eyes locked with his.
Smoke blanketed their feet from the
residue of battle. Dangerous minutes
ticked by, until Collins squirmed,
drawing the captain’s attention. Captain
Collins’s eyes narrowed upon Frink and
then slowly shifted to Percy. It was
obvious the man was in immeasurable
pain. His fixed stare willed Percy not to
break Nelson’s code, though Percy had
already scanned the crowd, looking for
ways to save the merchantman’s life.
When my time comes, make sure I
go out like a man.
He could never forget
Collins’s last request, even if he tried.
Collins’s face contorted. “Kill me
and be done with it!” he yelled.
Frink could not know Collins was
directing this last request to Percy.
“You’ll make a pretty death of it,
yet, Collins!” Frink exclaimed, grabbing
Constance by the arm.
Now wide awake, Constance
squealed and shrank away.
“You see,” Frink said, pulling her
to her feet. “We make hell worth living.”
Giving his captive a shake, he added,
“And if this be hell, I want to enjoy
every last minute of it!”
Frink jerked Constance forward
and planted a forceful kiss upon her lips.
She gagged beneath his assault. When he
released her, she screamed. Enraged, the
captain smacked her face and twitched
his nose. Bowing, he offered his men a
salute.
“The lady and I bid you adieu.
Perhaps my crew can be persuaded to
put you out of your misery, Collins.”
Percy clenched his fists. His worst
fears confirmed, he watched Frink out of
the corner of his eye, as the man dragged
Constance over to the hatch of the cargo
hold. There, the wretch tore at her wrap,
struggled with her thrashing limbs, and
fumbled with his pants. Percy’s gaze
scanned the crowd, and then settled upon
Guffald, a member of Nelson’s Tea,
lying unconscious, face up a short
distance away. If he hadn’t been hard-
pressed to check out the bowels of the
Octavia
and, hadn’t been detained by
saving Danbury’s niece, he might have
been able to help the man. Instantly alert,
he watched two pirates pour oil over
Guffald’s body in preparation to set him
aflame. Not another moment could be
wasted. His gaze flicked over his crew.
All he had to do was give the signal.
Celeste’s silhouette flashed before
him, but her image was dissected by
Constance’s terrified scream. The time
had come. Percy pulled out his
blunderbuss and aimed the pistol at the
man about to torch Guffald. He pulled
the trigger. Smoke filled the air as the
powerful slug hit the man and sent him
reeling backward, until the torch
disappeared as the man vanished over
the
Octavia
’s railing.
He shouted to Ollie. “Tend Guffald.
Jacko,” he said, turning toward his first
mate, “follow me.”
“Make ready!” he yelled to his
men.
One by one, his men raced into
action,
drawing
dirks,
cutlasses,
marlinspikes, and axes against Frink’s
crew. Mutiny swept man to man. What
was left of Collins’s crew jumped into
the fray. Percy rushed up to Collins.
“Save her,” Collins panted. “Don’t
let any harm come to Lady Constance!”
Percy nodded. He ordered Jacko to
aid Collins, and then hastened toward
the cargo hatch. Dodging debris, he
stepped out of the way just in time to
avoid a collapsing mast. Up ahead, Frink
loitered just beyond his reach.
“Hold,” Percy shouted, stepping in
to confront his nemesis.
Frink’s head snapped up. His
sudden mistake cost him as Constance
shoved her knee into his half-exposed
crotch. Bowing down with pain, the
captain cursed. Percy rushed forward to
grab Constance’s arm and pull her to his
side, but Frink miraculously regained his
balance and jerked Constance back.
“Not so fast,” he bellowed.
Squaring his eyes at Percy, he spat, “I’ll
be blown, you turncoat! I should’ve
known you’d turn your back on me!”
“Hand over the girl!”
Percy held his cutlass high, aiming
the broad tip at Frink’s heart, allowing
his gaze but a second or two to linger on
Constance to ensure that she was
unharmed. Shaken but uninjured, she
appeared to be going into shock. He
watched in horror as she stumbled
closer to the edge of the hatch to escape
the silver blade upheld in Frink’s fist.
“Take her from me, if you can,”
Frink challenged.
Constance whimpered. Percy had
no other choice. He’d have to go through
Frink to reach her. With fencing prowess
unmatched, he had no doubt as to his
odds. But a cutlass was a hacking blade.
Should he wield the final blow, all
connection to Frink and his benefactor
would be destroyed, ending his quest to
bring Celeste’s killer to justice.
Rumbling as if Poseidon tore at the
Octavia
’s hull, the merchantman’s
wooden shell began to crack. Glass
shattered. The deck heaved. Time was
running out.
“Look out!” Percy cried as the deck
collapsed, plunging Constance through
the hatch.
Frink’s eyes took on demonic light
and he grinned wickedly. “Looks like
you’re too late to save the wench,” he
baited. “But if you dare to try, you’ll
have to go through me first.”
Forward thrusting with vicious
tenacity, the captain engaged Percy in a
duel of clashing steel.
“You’ve preyed upon the innocent
for the last time,” Percy said.
“Give it your best, boy!”