Treasure of the High Seas, Chapter 5 (Patreon)

COME THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I beg William to escort me abovedeck in hopes of encountering Captain Lockheed. Though the Triumvirate teaches that pride is a most objectionable sin, the opportunity to remind her of my victory is too tempting to resist. After all I have endured of late, surely the Bride will not begrudge me this brief moment of gloating.

When I emerge from the cabin, Captain Lockheed is nowhere to be seen. In fact, I cannot see much of anything thanks to the thick gray fog that has blanketed the ship. The heavy dampness seeps into my skirts and clings to my skin as I peer across The Maelstrom’s deck. 

I can make out neither sky nor sea, and the sloop scarcely rocks at all in the cradle of the waves. Her towering mast and sails are mere shadows in the mist, as are her scattered crewmates. They go about their chores like lost shades in the underworld, flickering in and out of the dense fog.

“Would you like to come up later?” William asks. “This is hardly enjoyable weather for a stroll.”

I consider his suggestion, but my desire to find Captain Lockheed wins out. No doubt the look on her face will sustain me through the crawling hours of tedium I must endure in her cabin. For this, I am more than willing to suffer a few minutes of gloomy weather.

“I appreciate your concern, but I am desperate to stretch my legs.”

William’s brow furrows. “Thick fog on a calm sea is a bad omen, Lady Cecily.”

“In that case, I shan’t linger.” With raised chin and straight shoulders, I stride past the tiller, down the short span of steps, and onto the main deck.

I see no trace of Captain Lockheed, but I spy Red sitting on an overturned crate near the starboard rail, a coil of twine in one hand and a clasp-knife in the other. He lowers them as I approach, and I note the absence of his playful grin.

“Good morning, Lady Cecily.”

“Good morning. Have I come at a bad time, Master Red?”

Red manages a smile, though not as bright as usual. “Not at all. An idle ship just leaves us ill at ease. There’s no sailing without the wind and waves, especially when we can’t see more than a yard in front of our faces.”

“I thought you might welcome the chance to rest?”

“Our resting’s done at port, where the wine and omegas are.” He winks, which makes him seem more himself. “Truth be told, we rarely stay on the open sea this long. The Maelstrom’s built for coastal raids, not bobbing about like a cork on the ocean.”

“I suppose I’m to blame,” I say, “although surely the infamous wolf of the southern seas has some lair she could conceal me in?”

“None she’d show you,” a rich alto says from behind my shoulder.

I gasp and turn. Captain Lockheed stands directly behind me, far too close for comfort. Now that I am aware of her, I am surprised I missed her scent, for the usual smell of cedar and spice is mixed with something sour. It leaves me tense and anxious, so I assume she is to blame for the sudden shift in my mood.

I stifle a scowl. Just like a brute of an alpha, to force her bad feelings on an omega with the compulsion of scent. I smother the feelings her poor mood stirs within me and raise my chin to meet her amber eyes.

“I believe you owe me some form of acknowledgement, Captain Lockheed. I do hope you intend to keep your word.”

Captain Lockheed dons the scowl I took such care to suppress. With narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, she looks very much the vicious wolf that Albion’s navy named her.

“I am a woman of my word, Lady Harrington, but scaling the mast once hardly makes you the equal of my crewmates. William does the same five times a day, and would do ten times more if his other work didn’t occupy him.”

William averts his eyes. He is obviously displeased that Captain Lockheed has involved him. “Eliza…”

“Still,” Captain Lockheed says, “I intend to acknowledge you when the crew receives their rum rations. That should satisfy our agreement.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Then I am satisfied.”

Captain Lockheed gives me a loathing look as though I am less than the mud on her boots. “Now, I must insist you return to the cabin until the weather clears.”

Though I had every intention of returning once I found her, the fact that Captain Lockheed has demanded it stirs resistance. “Why? The seas are quite calm.”

Captain Lockheed’s shoulders rise in a tense line, like the bristling of a dog’s hackles. “I’m not obliged to give you a reason. I am the captain of this vessel, and you will obey.”

Another wave of scent washes over me, causing goosebumps to erupt on my arms and down my neck. My skin grows flush despite the cool mist and my heart beats faster. I feel the sudden urge to lower my head and allow her to escort me to the cabin. Her mere presence demands it.

I grit my teeth, keeping my feet rooted to the planks. I refuse to give her the satisfaction. “I shall return in a few minutes,” I say, though my voice is softer and less sure than I would like, “once I finish my conversation with Master Red.”

Red’s blue eyes widen with alarm. “Captain, I wasn’t—”

His excuse is cut off as the ship lurches, its bow pulling hard to the left. He drops his knife and twine, while William grasps the railing to steady himself. Captain Lockheed straightens even taller, lifting her nose to scent the stagnant air. 

“William,” she says, low and clipped, “ring the bell.”

William scampers off like a jackrabbit, disappearing into the fog.

“Red,” Captain Lockheed orders, “return Lady Harrington to my cabin and remain there with her. See that you’re armed.”

Red hops to his feet. “Right away, Captain.” He grasps my arm, his fingers squeezing my elbow with uncomfortable force. “Come on, Lady Cecily. We’d best do what she says.”

“But—oh!”

I clutch Red’s shoulder as the ship teeters in the opposite direction. The waters stir, causing The Maelstrom to spin perilously. The loud clang of a bell splits the smothering air, and shadows flee through the fog.

Most are impossible to make out, but I catch sight of Penny and Scrumpy taking up position beside one of the ship’s cannons. Scrumpy loads a cartridge of gunpowder while Penny rams it down the barrel with a long pole.

My racing heart threatens to burst through my ribs. Are we under attack?

Red tugs my arm. “Move!” He drags me a few stumbling steps.

I stagger after him, but his grip falters as a massive shape bursts from the sea. It towers over us, tall and thick as a tree trunk, then lashes out, curling around The Maelstrom’s stern. The rear of the ship rises into the air, sending us tumbling onto the deck.

Fearful shouts ring out, followed by a blinding flash and boom. As I clamber to my feet, I see Penny fire one of the cannons. It has rolled several yards from its position. Only Scrumpy’s strong hold has kept it from sliding off the side of the ship.

A hellish shriek pierces the sky, and a massive black mountain rises from the depths. In its center is a giant globe, a wicked black pit ringed with bright yellow. Seawater rains down, sending a cold wave crashing across the deck. It almost sweeps me away, but I grasp the railing, clinging to it with all my strength. 

A tentacle erupts from the churning waters, lashing across The Maelstrom and wrapping round it like a giant length of rope. Another wave sweeps over me, stealing my scream from my lungs. It nearly breaks my hold, but I curl my entire body around the railing as the ship tilts.

“Kraken!”

“Bride save us—”

“Get its arm!”

The ship comes alive as the crew launches an attack upon the beast, but they are mere ants before its might. One scurrying figure is swept off the side. Another flies through the air, colliding with the mast.

Above the roar of the ocean and the riot of the cannons, a fierce voice calls out. “The eye, Penny! Aim…fire!”

A loud boom rocks the ship and the bitter smell of gunpowder burns my nose. The Maelstrom shudders, then falls, plunging into the ocean. Seawater sprays everywhere, and I lose my hold on the railing, sprawling onto the deck near the mast.

More tentacles burst from below. One snags the topsail, tearing through it like tissue. Another curls around the mast, rippling with muscle and studded with grotesque suckers. It gives a sickening pulse as it begins to squeeze.

The mast groans like a wounded animal. Wood splinters rain down around me as the ship pitches backwards, sending cannons and supply crates tumbling toward the stern.

I am almost caught in the avalanche, but I grasp a length of rope coiled around the mast. My desperate grip falters, but then a large, calloused hand grabs mine. One of the tall, blonde beta twins hauls me to my feet while the other begins hacking at the kraken’s tentacle with a cutlass.

Foul-smelling black ichor sprays across my face. I gag, my legs wobbling perilously, but manage to keep my footing.

The twins slice at the tentacle’s suckers, forcing it to withdraw, but two more rise to take its place. One coils around the mast while the other sends one of the twins flying with a violent swipe. I can only watch in horror as they tumble over the side of the ship and into the ocean.

From the starboard deck, a high voice bellows my name. “Cecily!” Red sprints toward me, his boots sliding on the slick planks, his eyes wide and wild.

His foot snags on a loose net, which sends him tumbling hard onto his side. As he kicks to free his leg, the tentacle coiled around the mast begins to haul the ship sideways.

Red slides toward the railing. His hands fly out, searching for a hold, but find only air. A look of pure panic twists his face before he disappears into the fog.

I race toward him. My sodden skirts tangle about my legs, weighing me down, but I push on. A length of rope dangles from the snapped rigging lines above. I seize it. “Red!”

Red claws at the deck, fighting to find his feet, but the net has wound tight around his ankle. I hear his deathly scream above the boom of the cannons as he slides toward the raging waters below.

I throw myself forward, gripping the rope with one hand, reaching for Red with the other.

He grabs my hand. His grip is cold and hard as iron, and I feel a sharp pull on my shoulder. I cry out with pain, but hold fast. I am the only thing keeping Red from being swallowed by the ocean.

I brace myself as best I can and pull with all my strength. It is not enough. The sea-stiffened rope bites into my palm and my muscles tremble with the strain. We do not even gain an inch.

Red’s wide blue eyes lock with mine, and I see death in them. This is a man who knows he has mere seconds left to live.

Something thumps on the deck beside Red. A blade flashes through the fog, slicing the net. The tension slackens, and Red releases my hand. Captain Lockheed stands over him, drenched seawater and black ichor. Her coat is torn and she is breathing heavily. A red line of blood runs down her temple, smearing across one cheek. 

She hauls Red to his feet, handing him her cutlass. “Keep her safe,” she says, then charges toward the ship’s port side, where the kraken’s head has breached the surface.

My thumping heart lodges in my throat. I can only watch, equal parts horrified and spellbound, as she unhooks a boarding spear from beneath the ship’s railing. She heaves herself onto it. Drawing the spear back, she launches at the titanic beast.

An awful, ear-splitting scream cuts through the air. The kraken’s black beak opens wide, showing rows of wickedly sharp teeth and the pale white innards of its maw. Captain Lockheed is flying straight for it. 

In a feat I can scarce believe, she catches the kraken’s beak beneath her foot. Two tentacles lash toward her, but she slips between them, scaling the fleshy mountain of its body. Her arm pulls back, and she plunges the spear deep into the monster’s enormous yellow eye.

With a horrible screech, the kraken begins thrashing. Its tentacles writhe, but loosen their grip upon the ship. The deck comes alive as the remaining pirates swarm the beast, shooting and stabbing whatever parts of the beast they can reach. Cannons fire, brilliant sparks of red glowing in the fog and smoke.

The tentacles withdraw, slithering back beneath the waves. The Maelstrom bobs and pitches on the riotous sea, but does not sink as the creature retreats to the depths. The shouts of battle become cheers as the pirates brandish their weapons.

Warm relief floods my frozen body, and my heart rises with their blades. In this primal battle between man and beast, man has emerged victorious—and somehow, I have survived. Most people pass their whole lives without witnessing something so exhilarating. I shall have such a story to tell my children and grandchildren, they might scarce believe it’s true.

Red rushes toward me. He scoops me into his arms and twirls me around, laughing joyously. “I’m alive! We’re bloody alive!”

A laugh hiccups from my chest, tears streaming down my face.

He sets me down, clutching my shoulders in a desperate grip that’s sure to leave bruises. “Thanks to you, girl. All thanks to you. If you hadn’t grabbed my hand, I’d be stewing in the kraken’s belly right now.”

My face flushes. “Thank you, but it was Captain Lockheed who saved you. Saved us all, in fact.” I look about the deck, although the lingering fog makes it difficult to see in any great detail. “Where is she?”

Red’s broad grin falters. He releases me, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Captain? Captain!”

The cry carries across the ship, picked up by a new chorus of voices.

“Captain?”

“Where’s the Captain?!”

A leaden lump sinks into the pit of my stomach. Brutish and disagreeable though she is, Captain Lockheed defeated the kraken and saved our lives. Death is no fitting reward for such a heroic feat. Even selfish, thieving scoundrels, it seems, may muster a moment of courage and bravery.

“Here! Port side!”

I recognize William’s voice as it hollers across the deck. The entire crew stampedes past, nearly toppling me in its wake. There are more shouts and a great deal of grunting as ropes are flung over the side.

I run after them, peering over the splintered railing. There, bobbing like a cork on the mighty swell of the waves, is a tiny figure. I can scarcely make it out through the mist, but in my heart, I know it is Captain Lockheed.

One of the ropes finds her. She clings to it, and the crew begins hauling her up. With a great deal more heaving and swearing, they reel her in like a large fish. Her bloodied, bruised hands clutch the rope until they haul her over the railing. As soon as she’s aboard, she collapses, flopping onto the deck with a weak moan.

William kneels beside her. “Eliza?” he says, his voice a panicked whisper, “where does it hurt?”

“Count,” Captain Lockheed mutters before a series of violent coughs seize her body.

The rest of the crew falls silent as William barks orders. He seizes control just like an alpha, sending Red for bandages and Scrumpy for his medical supplies. Meanwhile, Penny hovers beside them, a silent, waifish sentinel in the gloomy mist.

Captain Lockheed tries to prop herself up on her elbows.

“Stay still,” William says. “You’re lucky to be alive, you fool.”

She tries to speak, but lurches to one side instead, vomiting seawater near my shoes. I gasp, side-stepping the disgusting puddle.

She wheezes for several moments, then clears her throat. Her voice is a weak rasp, but the word is clear. “Count.”

Penny answers. “Eleven souls accounted for, and Lady Cecily makes twelve. There’s no sign of Bertrand.”

A grim look twists Captain Lockheed’s face. Her jaw bunches as she bares her teeth. “Then what are you all standing around for?!”

As one, the crew hesitates, as though unwilling to leave her.

“You heard the Captain,” Penny says. “One of ours is missing. Go find him!”

Led by Penny, the pirates scatter, leaving only William and me at Captain Lockheed’s side.

“I watched one of the kraken’s tentacles drag him overboard,” I tell them. “We may not find him.”

Captain Lockheed glares at me, fierce heat blazing in her amber eyes. “We don’t leave mates behind. We keep looking until all hope is truly lost.”

“But—”

Red and Scrumpy arrive with William’s medical bag and an armful of blankets. William removes Captain Lockheed’s torn coat, then strips her of her shirt, soaked through with seawater, blood, and oily black ichor.

I take one of the blankets and kneel beside William while he assesses her injuries. Angry red suction marks mar her tanned skin, and she is bleeding beneath the bandages on her back.

I feel a twinge of guilt. She took those lashes for showing me unkindness, and now she has re-opened them. How could she possibly have taken down the kraken while recovering from those injuries?

“Dry her,” William says.

I obey, wrapping the blanket around Captain Lockheed’s shoulders. She growls and grumbles, but does not otherwise protest. “Red, Scrumpy—look for Bertrand with the others,” she orders.

They scurry off in silence to do so.

I peel off the filthy bandages so William can examine her fully. A different scent spreads through the stench of sweat, seawater, and fear. It’s warm and calming, and I can tell it is coming from William.

Captain Lockheed’s hard, broad-shouldered body softens at his touch, and I hear a quiet sigh of relief escape her lips. She leans into him as he bandages her torso, only occasionally flinching.

“What were you thinking, scaling the beast like that? It could have swallowed you whole.”

“Unlikely,” Captain Lockheed says. “It would have drowned me first.” She looks at me. “And you saved our songbird.”

“I helped,” I admit, feeling my pulse quicken. Good manners dictate that I, as a lady and omega of distinction, must not accept too much praise. Still, my chest warms with pride.

“It was stupid and reckless,” Captain Lockheed says. “It’s a thrice-damned miracle you’re alive.”

My pride stutters out like a dying candle. “A simple thank you will suffice,” I say.

Captain Lockheed scoffs. “If you want thanks, speak with Red. And on that subject, you should really be thanking me for saving us all.”

I glare at her, but William quiets me with a look. “Stop talking and let me work, Eliza.” Begrudgingly, we both fall silent as William finishes her bandages and moves on to applying some herbal-smelling ointment to the raw, oozing sucker marks on her chest and stomach.

The sight of them turns my stomach, but I choke down my disgust. Once William is finished, I wrap the blanket around her. She purses her lips, but does not object to my assistance.

“You should return to your cabin and lie down,” William says.

She shakes her head, her coiled braids whipping about her shoulders. “Not until we find Bertrand and I hear a report on the ship.”

Penny chooses that moment to return. “There’s no sign of him, I’m afraid—and The Maelstrom has taken heavy damage. She’s barely seaworthy, but I think we can limp the rest of the way to the island for repairs.”

Captain Lockheed sighs, giving a solemn nod. “Can we float for a candlemark, at least? Bertrand might still…” Her voice trails off, and her face hardens. “No signs at all?”

“None,” Penny says.

“Bring me Charlotte,” Captain Lockheed says. “And you.” She turns to me. “William, take her somewhere else until we make land. Anywhere but here.”

“As you say, Captain.” William rises to his feet, then offers me his hand. I accept it and stand beside him. “Don’t let her out of your damn sight,” he hisses in Penny’s ear. She inclines her head in understanding, and William leads me toward the stern.

I realize that the mist has begun to clear, and weak beams of sunlight cast shadows across the ship’s deck. I must pick my way around puddles of muck and piles of debris as we return to the short roof that shields the tiller. 

Thankfully, William does not insist I return to the cabin. He remains beside me, a silent and watchful guardian, as the rest of the crew walks the length of the ship, looking over the sides for Bertrand, or whatever remains of him.

A loud, bitter howl sends a shock through my body. My pulse jumps, but it is no beast. It is the anguished wail of a woman. The remaining tall, blonde beta has fallen to her knees beside Captain Lockheed. Grieving the loss of her twin, no doubt. I hear the anguish in her sobs.

“He saved me,” I say to William. “Bertrand and his sister. If he hadn’t…”

William places a hand upon my shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Lady Cecily. You didn’t summon the kraken. The sea claims whatever souls she will, a fate we all risked when we chose this life. We will grieve him, remember him, and sail on.”

They are kind words, but they ring hollow. I have never borne witness to another person’s violent death. He must have died cold and alone, screaming his last breath beneath the sea. A truly horrible fate.

“May the Bride keep him close to her bosom,” I murmur. For saving me and defending his comrades, perhaps the Triumvirate will show Bertrand some measure of mercy. Perhaps, when the measure of his soul is weighed, he will be saved in spite of his sins. It comforts me greatly to imagine this.

William kisses his fingers, then extends them out toward the waves. “Sleep peacefully in the sea, brother. You’ve more than earned your rest.”

We pass the next several hours by the tiller. One by one, members of The Maelstrom’s crew stagger toward us, and William treats their injuries. Most are minor, but one man has an awful lash across his chest, and another is covered in the same sucker-marks as Captain Lockheed.

I assist William as best I can, though I fear I am of little help. Without his training, I am only good for passing bandages and splints and other such things. Finally, when the last member of the crew has been seen to, Captain Lockheed rises to take command of the ship. Stripped of her shirt and coat, and covered in injuries, she still cuts a surprisingly stalwart figure as she addresses the crew.

“The sails are torn, so take your stations at the oars. We must make the island before sunset.”

The pirates climb down into the hold. Captain Lockheed is the last, leaving only Penny, William, and me above deck. Partway down the ladder, William stops her. “Not you,” he says. “Those ribs won’t allow for rowing. Go to your cabin and sleep.”

Captain Lockheed rolls her eyes. “I fought a kraken and lived. You think I can’t handle a few hours at the oars?”

Penny pokes her in the ribs. Captain Lockheed winces, doubling over in pain. “Damn you both,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

“Take my post at the tiller if you must make yourself useful,” Penny says. “But if you collapse, it’s your own stubbornness to blame.”

“Done,” Captain Lockheed says. She strides off without another word, bearing only a slight limp.

“Come into the hold, Lady Cecily,” William says, touching my elbow. “It’s a bit cramped, but Red will have his accordion.”

I manage a weak smile. “Nothing else to do but sail on, yes?”

“Right you are,” William says. “And so long as The Maelstrom holds together, you’ll have your feet on blessed land before nightfall.”