The Angel and the Rogue

By Dorothy P. Acosta Hays

Captain Black is capturing and sinking Spanish galleons. While collecting ransom for Maria, a nobleman’s daughter, he is troubled by her identical looks to the tavern beauty, Gwendalynn Taylor, whom he promised a return. The queen fears that Black’s actions threaten diplomacy with Spain, and orders his capture.

On a revelational awakening with Maria, Black realizes he must return to Gwendalynn. He’s disappointed on finding out she has left England. Luckily, he meets with Drake who has rescued Gwendalynn from a sinking ship. Confessing to Drake she is Black’s betrothed, he delivers her to Black where he joins Drake on destroying the ships at Cadiz.

Leaving Cadiz, his fleet is scattered in a storm. He’s captured by Maria’s father, and Gwendalynn is taken hostage. Black must now escape Del Rosa’s ship, rescue his love, and win the queen’s pardon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543421606

Book preview

The Angel and

the Rogue

DOROTHY P. ACOSTA HAYS

Copyright © 2018 by Dorothy P. Acosta Hays.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017907191

ISBN:                Hardcover                978-1-5434-2161-3

                            Softcover                  978-1-5434-2159-0

                            eBook                        978-1-5434-2160-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Illustration by the Author

Rev. date: 11/12/2019

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

756001

Acknowledgements

To My Brother Ray Acosta, in loving memory, who helped me much in putting my story into manuscript format on my P. C.

Also: In fond memory of Bina Kenny; my beauty shop client from Ireland, who was the first to read my story in first draft form, and offered me much encouragement.

And most loved: To my children and grandchildren: Vernice and Mario Diaz, Eden and Maria Torres. My grandchildren: Eden Jr. Torres, Krystal Diaz, Bianca Diaz and Alfy ( Alfonso) Diaz.

And last to my friend: Penny Green and Mimi Capote for their marvelous encouragement.

And last but not least to all those who worked with me at Xilbris to bring my story to life.

A BIG THANK YOU!

Contents

PART ONE

First Sight

Chapter 1     Home

Chapter 2     The Capture of The Tigress

Chapter 3     The Separation

Chapter 4     Five Hundred Pounds In Gold

Chapter 5     Back to Lizeard’s Head

Chapter 6     The Fleet Reunited

PART TWO

Haven

Chapter 7     Sligo Bound

Chapter 8     Sister Beth

Chapter 9     The Best Man Wins

Chapter 10   The Meeting With Drake

Chapter 11   The Boasting of a Rogue

Chapter 12   The Pirate’s Lady

Chapter 13   The Attack on Cadiz

PART THREE

Enemies Beloved

Chapter 14   The Capture of Captain Black

Chapter 15   The Escape of Captain Black

Chapter 16   The Pardon

Chapter 17   A Little Rogue’s Braving

Chapter 18   The Return of El Leon Negro

PART FOUR

Reunion

Chapter 19   The Appearance of My Lady

Chapter 20   The Promise

Chapter 21   The Masters Meet

Chapter 22   The Finding of El Protector

Chapter 23   The Clash of Avenging Swords

Chapter 24   The Promise Fulfilled

Chapter 25   Home At Last

Epilogue

Oh Captain, My Good Captain

OH MY CAPTAIN so fine and TALL….

Hear you NOT the minstrels WARNING CALL.

YOUR LOVE awaits OH so NEAR….

Can you NOT HEAR her call….and for YOU FEAR.

OH MY CAPTAIN the town awaits you HERE….

ROGUE that you ARE….STILL they hold you DEAR.

GUNS await in LINE to TRY and BRING you DOWN….

DO YOU not FEAR ….must you always act the DARING CLOWN.

OH hear ME my GOOD CAPTAIN…. the soldiers are on their PROWL ….

OH MY GOOD CAPTAIN you must HEAR ME NOW!

CAN you NOT hear the DRUMS of CAPTURE just baring AHEAD…

CAN you not turn AWAY and SAVE YOURSELF INSTEAD!

OH MY CAPTAIN there will be another TIME….

WHERE your TRUE LOVE in your ARMS will surely PINE.

BUT now MY GOOD CAPTAIN THIS warning you must HEED….

FOR IF NOT….TOMORROW….you COULD be DEAD!

Part One

First Sight

First Sight

Oh, how was I to know then,

On that very first chase.

Blinded by a ray of sun upon my face.

Of what I would step into with little grace.

That I would fall hard, and yet not know,

And come to know soon after, with such a blow.

Not the kind that quickly will kill,

But bleeds forever, silent and still.

So arrogantly I walked away from that place.

With my roguish stance, and with little grace.

Saying falsely that I would surely return….

Only later to cause me unrest, an constant burn.

And now I roam the endless seas again,

Like a wounded beast, in fake disdain.

Like I have lived so many times before,

Gaining much treasure, but with no score.

How I wish I would have opened my eyes then,

But, yeah, fate had for me another plan.

For, on the hour of that FIRST SIGHT.

Fate, not I, did know what I would leave behind.

To perhaps seek again, and never to find.

Chapter One

Home

Lizeard’s Head

England

1586

W ith the night so peacefully illuminated by a pearly moon over the Channel, it hardly seemed the time for a band of buccaneers to make their way into the coast of Mullion. Even, the smallest of gigs could be clearly exposed as it floated over the waters. It would have taken a daring band of buccaneers with a valorous amount of gut to chance it. Yet, such perilous odds, didn’t for a moment concern the crew of Captain Armoles Black; for his ship, THE TARANTULA, and her two sister ships, had boldly dropped anchors in the harbor of Lizeard’s Head.

Let’s separate an’ meet at the taverns along the docks, instructed Armoles. Allen, Myles, come with mi.

Aye Capt’n.

The soft whispers of Black’s men was like the buzzing of bee’s wings in the quiet of the night. Armoles’ men separated upon reaching the docks, and without interference, each one headed in a different direction, to meet later along the taverns of the small seaside town, where unfamiliar faces never aroused concern. By nine o’clock that evening Captain Black and his crew has long reached the dimly lighted, cobbled stone streets of Mullion, a small town just outside of Lizeard’s Head.

There wasn’t any doubt in Armoles’ mind his crew was content, and still more satisfied was he. Capturing the Spanish galleon had not been all glory, it had offered it’s oppressions and challenges, but it had paid off handsomely in prizes. Having been loaded with gold, jewels, silks and other valuable supplies, which he could later turn into profit for the welfare of the fleet and his crew. To the present, it was the best prizes they had captured. There had been a small loss of men. Good men, but with a crew as large as his, the fleet would not be greatly affected when it came to manning them. Black knew it was due time to come ashore and take a rest; for he was just as weary as his men and after three months at sea he knew most men would have grown restless and difficult to restrain. It was no wonder then why, Armoles and his men were aiming to drench themselves in ale and bring themselves to bed a wench.

The Yellow Canary wasn’t the most elegant tavern in all of Mullion, but to Armoles knowledge it carried a humble stock of fine ale, and a selectable collection of shapely wenches. Therefore, when Allen and Myles suggested it, Armoles agreed. The tavern was overflowing with seamen, merchants, sailors and citizens, and not one soul was budging to let others pass through the narrow space which separated the bar counter from the service tables. By the time Armoles and his two mates, had managed to push their way through the rear of the tavern, where a table appeared unoccupied, they were not surprised to discover someone had just taken it. This did not discourage Armoles or either one of his mates. Instead, they pushed back through the bulging crowd, this time with Armoles’ giant’s frame leading. On reaching the bar counter they were fortunate to find a space where previously two drunks had just collapsed on the floor. It wasn’t long before the tavern keeper, going quietly about his duties, came from behind the counter, and dragged the two bodies out the back door of the tavern.

Shortly after, Allen and Myles found their evening entertainment with two pleasantly plump maids, and departed on their own; was it when Armoles, enjoying a mug of ale, was approached by one of the tavern maids. He set draped blue eyes on her, surprised at how quickly he was appraising her comeliness. Indeed, he thought, a tavern maid was the last thing in the world she looked like! Or, he reasoned to himself; perhaps he thought so because he had not seen a wench in three months. Even if she would have had the face of a horse, he would have felt a spark of desire just from the scent of her perfume. She was perfumed beyond belief, or was it his imagination? When she spoke, her voice delivered with obvious shyness, he realized she was no illusion.

Sir, there’s a free table in the corner, she opened, the sound of her voice floating like music to his ears, having heard boisterous male voices on a ship’s deck for so long; not to mention her innocent natural beauty drawing him like a magnet away from all else, Perhaps you would like to join me?

Aye, replied Armoles, the blue eyes observing her comeliness. Nay, he mused, it wasn’t the three months at sea without a woman which had made her seem so beautiful. She was beautiful.

She turned away from him to lead the way, but when she looked at the tight squeeze open to their challenge, she turned back to him with a warm smile on her face, and extended her hand out to Armoles.

You’re bigger than me, she said suggestively, You lead the way.

Armoles offered her his left hand, Come wench, he said, exposing a full grin of even white teeth, I’ll show ye how it’s done!

He wrapped his big hand about hers, and like two brave sardines ready to be packed in with all the others, they pushed their way into the crowd. By the time they reached the table, the maiden had spotted, they were both laughing over the happenings along the way. Some geezer highly indulged in ale, and merriment, had reached out to slap the maiden’s shapely posterior, and Armoles had to challenge him in defense of the maid.

Nay, old man, he exclaimed, I can see what y’ar old eyes view in appraisal, but this wench is mine!

The old man looked up at the handsome giant opposing him, quickly changing his mind. He smiled meekly, sinking back into his chair, feeling fortunate he had not started a tavern brawl with him.

T’at lass, was more frightening than sailing in a storm, he declared, already seated at the table beside the young woman. F’ar a moment th’ar I felt like a fellow sardine.

The young woman was moved with mild laughter at his words. A laughter soothing him as her emerald green obs fell on him and timidly considered her first prospect as a trollop. Despite her inexperience, she realized her good fortune; yea, he was a splendid catch alright, for it wasn’t often a man like him showed up in taverns the likes of The Yellow Canary. He was young, and ruggedly handsome, but it wasn’t his handsomeness that was so enticing. It was his obvious nature, with an air of charisma about him. Indeed, he had a way about him!

They both sat in the warm corner of the tavern talking and laughing for several hours until it finally came to Armoles, he had never in his entire life had the patience to just sit and drink and talk to a woman for such a long time, and he wondered of his behavior, and what spell this wench had cast upon him. He leaned back farther in his chair, not very sober, amused by his own behavior, the draped blue eyes held in a steady stare upon the young woman. She felt abashed under his bold perusal, but didn’t try to question his mood and continued to talk, though she felt uncomfortable under the hold of those azure pools which seem to hold her to his will. On Armoles’ part there would have been less talk, and more amorous advances, as he became more drunk, but for some reason beyond his own awareness, he was reacting differently this time; and the irony of it all was he was actually enjoying it. At present he wasn’t keen enough to make any sense of it, so he didn’t linger on this change in himself. As for the wench, she held her drink well, he thought amused: or perhaps she had been pouring it down the side of the table, and he was too absorbed in the pleasure of her company to notice. She kept pouring ale into his mug as though she hoped to make him collapse under the effects of it. Before long Armoles was cheerfully inebriated, but alert enough to wonder of his own behavior. He wasn’t even trying to bed this beautiful vixen. Instead he just sat staring at her like an amused little boy who had just come face to face with a fascinating new toy, and only wanted to relish the sight of it.

Her golden tresses, draped full in deep waves to the length of her hips, flowing over the creamy white smoothness of her shoulders and breast. Gazing into the deep emerald pools of her eyes he sensed a warm, gentle nature, feeling enchanted under their hold, as she moved closer to him. As she did, he became aware of her rapid breathing, as though she were nervous. Her sweet scent aroused him from the calm of his drunkenness awakening his primal senses. He felt his blood rushing madly with an ache in his loins in want of her. That’s what it had become, a desire to have her. She sensed it, with an air of timidness to respond; her next move proving it. She moved away from him, and began to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, caressing his neck with her velvety smooth fingers, he not failing to realize her growing shyness. It was then Armoles realized the cause of her behavior. She’s trying to stall for more time: he thought; She’s never done this before! Damn!, I’m probably the first, an’ damn mi drunken hide, I won’t do it to her! I think I’ll go right now an’ bed me a wench of experience to appease mi burning loins! Moved by the force of his own thoughts, Armoles rose abruptly off his chair.

I believe I’ll be leavin’ now lass.

She looked at him in utter shock, her green obs huge in obvious distress. She was desperate, almost to the point of tears. She tried to think of what she could do to keep him from leaving. She never thought the first man she could muster the courage to confront would be so difficult to bring to bed. Or that he could still be so damn sober, so he wouldn’t even remember if they had done it or not! He’d taken in at least ten mugs of ale, and he wasn’t even wavering on his feet and still wearing that happy grin of white teeth, which was exceedingly annoying in her predicament. Surely there had to be a way to hold on to her first customer, or she would soon be without a job. If she hadn’t wasted so much time trying to get him drunk, because of what she had to face, now she wouldn’t be in this imbroglio. In a moment she managed control of her wits, and took Armoles by the arm pulling him through the crowd, and leading him to the upper chambers of the tavern.

Armoles’ was surprised by her sudden move, but sympathized with the young woman’s desperation in her obvious efforts to please. So to amuse himself he thought to encourage her for a while. Reaching the upper rooms of the tavern she stopped before the door, her legs feeling like mush under her, and her hands slightly trembling as she reached for the door latch. Armoles noticed and placed his big hand over hers, as she looked meekly over her shoulder to consider the size of her first prospect. Fearfully, she considered she might well be crushed to death. It was useless at this point, to hope he would collapse on the bed before he could get her in it. He appeared far too alert considering all the ale he had consumed, and now, that toothy smile had turned to a devilish look, and those thick black brows arched at her, telling her to proceed. Amused at the maiden, he leaned over her shoulder from behind her, gently planting a kiss on the silky smoothness. Gwendalynn felt a strange pleasure in spite of her fear. The warmth, of her on his lips moved like an electric current through him, arousing an ache in his loins, and a fire in his blood. Armoles fought to control his want of her, and in doing so, he emerged into an exceedingly clownish mood.

Come mi fair wench! he said as he kicked the door open and stepped aside, bowing clownishly before her, while waving his hand in invitation for her to enter the room, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.

The view of the bed covered with coats of fur rose a cold dread in the young woman’s belly, but she forced a smile while entering the room. Once inside the room and under the intoxication of liquor Armoles’ conduct grew even more playful, and in spite of the young woman’s unease, she couldn’t help but find him amusing. A warm smile shaped her full lips, transforming into playful giggling, as Armoles began to walk around her, viewing her from all sides with ardent appraisal. As far as he was concerned this maiden’s exquisite form seem to be made to arouse the dullest passion. He was having a damn difficult time trying to settle his loins. Not to mention her giggling sorely pleasing him, and reminding him of his need; but yet too caught up in appraising her exquisite feminine form. Timid under his teasing amorous perusal, she managed to walk farther inside the room. He watched the gentle swing of her hips, and the nervous heaving of her breast, as she quickly moved away from him. He was delirious with delight, the height of his enchantment soaring dangerously. She felt his desiring gaze traveling along every curve of her body, and she couldn’t look back at him without a blush claiming her visage. She wanted to run in her sudden panic, but told herself she must live through the night. As she managed to muster the courage to face him, he came to her taking her in his arms, and crushing her against the full length of his hard physique. Never before had she imagined such immense strength in a man’s body. She felt a berserk panic overtaking her as his lips found hers in a crushing kiss, weakening her to the point she thought she would fall. Yet, she didn’t fall; her body under his hold strangely yielding to his caresses. She felt his hand rise to the back of her head, forcing her to tilt her head, as the searing heat of his lips found hers. She felt the wild beating of his heart against her, and the full length of his manhood pressing hard, against her own body. Was his passion to be so engulfing she could not cope with it? Suddenly, she felt small and trapped under his hold, and against her own will even greater panic overtook her. She began to struggle under his overpowering embrace, but she was like a feather in his arms, for he wasn’t even aware of her struggle. It was useless, she would have to yield and take what came. But, as if rescued by the power of heaven she realized his body had separated from her own. When she looked up at him, she found a playful laughter escaping his mouth. Surprising her again, he lifted her up like a babe in his arms, and with little effort walked over to the bed and tossed her upon it. She cowered before him uncertain of his mood, reaching for the fur blankets, and drawing them over her breasts, her emerald obs immense with fear, as he stood there before her grossly laughing, appearing like some mighty heathen god, who could do with her as he pleased. Then, came his words which for several moments, in her stressed mind didn’t register.

Indeed mi sweet wench, ye’ve much t’at amuses mi, but nay….I’m goin’ te bed mi a wench of experience te’night! Sorry lass an’ don’ hold it against mi, but I’m goin’ where the spice has already been brewed!

My God! What had she done? She thought: Without a single ducat in her possession, she would surely be in the street tonight if he walked out of this tavern. Was her fear of him to outwit her will? Quickly and out of utter desperation she responded.

How can you know it’s not brewed….SIR….unless you’ve tried it!

Gwendalynn took a stressed swallow, at the bold audacity of her own words.

Y’ar a determined wench, he replied amused by her wit in spite of her fear, but lass, I can pick out a green apple, even if I’m as drunk as a jackass! Y’ar scared te death of mi. T’at shows mi y’ar new te this. So ye’d bet’tar leave it at t’at, an’ run wench be’far I change mi mind!

You idiot, you fool! she cried out angrily in her desperation, lips trembling.I hope I never see you again, you knave!

From the door he looked back at her, the draped blue eyes no longer mocking her, but overshadowed with concern. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and he realized he had been the cause. Strange her tears should cast such softness upon him. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t relishing the sight. In her distress, she was even more beautiful, and something held him transfixed, with no desire to abandon her. Her tears felt like a knife pricking the middle of his chest.

No longer angry at him, as she had no reason to be, for he had only made harmless play of the truth, she was able to speak.

Oh please, she got out her lips moist and trembling with her plea, her head bowed down in shame. I’ve insulted you. I beg you forgive me. Please….Please don’t go….The tavern keeper,…he’s watching me tonight. If you go I’ll lose this job, and I have no one.

In the name of heaven lass, if it means t’at much te ye I’ll stay but just t’at I warrant!

You are very kind Sir, she replied in gratitude.

Nay, he replied coming towards her and sitting on the bed next to her, moved by a strange desire to trace the delicate lines of her mouth and soothe her distress. He raised his hand to her mouth, tracing over the shape of her delicately shaped lips, and then wiping away tears from her eyes. An unfamiliar bliss came over her at the gentleness of his touch, amazed at how gentle he could be with those strong arms and hands. A full smile came to his lips seeming to blind her, and making her think the sun would be envious of it. For a few fleeting moments both were caught in momentary bliss, his next words unintentionally breaking their mutual enchantment, and awaking the young tavern maid to the present.

What will ye do tomorrow?

With heaviness she caught the implication of his words. The emerald eyes draped downward with despair as she replied: Wait until I’m taken.

Her words weighted heavy and burdensome within her. He understood too well their meaning, and knew not only was she new at this, but that she had yet to know the ruthless lust of a man in want of her; which in the end would not be troubled by her innocence. Disturbed by her innocence, and the fact, she had ended up in a wretched place such as this, he was strangely aroused with vexation. He rose from beside the young woman, and thoughtfully began removing his clothing, as though to distract himself from his dark mood. The thought of another man roughly abusing her to take her was suddenly enraging him, transforming his handsome visage into a dark scowl. Surprised by his sudden moves, and the air of seriousness upon his visage, the young woman imagined the worst, as she stared back at him, eyes steadily guarded.

With all his clothes cast aside over the bed, but for his tights, he turned to look upon the young woman again. Upon her visage shown with such obvious distress, he realized the effect of his moves upon her, and chuckling mildly to himself, realizing what she had interpreted from his actions, he quickly reassured her.

Fear not lass, I gave mi word. Rest assured, I’ll keep the drawls on this night! Assuredly it’ll be a test on mi starved state. I be damn’d, I ne’var seen a more comely wench then y’ar self!"

She exhausted a breath of utter relief, smiled contentedly back at him, curled under the fur blankets, and very soon she was fast asleep.

Armoles mused with a warm contentment at the sight of her, and thought: Had he just encountered a heavenly creature? He cautiously laid beside the young woman daring not to awaken her, not wanting to cause her anymore concern and thinking: It had been a long time since he had slept with one so beautiful, and one so untouched. Savoring with much contentment her exquisite beauty and closeness, he laid down next to her, slumber soon overcoming him as well.

Hours later Armoles felt the warm morning sun resting with annoying brightness upon his visage. He turned his face from it to find the maiden sound asleep beneath the fur blankets, her right arm resting over his chest. He found himself foolishly staring at her again in awe. She was truly a pearl, with her golden hair falling about her face and shoulders in masses of deep luscious waves over the creamy fairness of her skin. Even in slumber her eyes seemed warm, contented, her mouth full and so innocently inviting. Truly, he mused, he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

He mocked himself for his foolish musings, remembering what he had to do, and raised himself slowly off the bed, careful not to awaken the maiden. As he came off the bed he watched the girl turn to the light of the morning sun. He quickly walked over to the shade to draw it down farther, but it was too late for he heard her yawn, and turned to find those emerald obs fluttering open, and her stretching her exquisite form, as her gaze settled quietly upon him.

She watched him quietly as he walked about the room gathering his clothing, and sit in a chair to put his boots on. She realized he was dressing to leave, and she could not understand why she felt so desperate at the knowledge of this when she had just met him. They had shared a bed, that had been all. Yet, as she watched him put on his boots, she felt anxious. She wanted to stop him, keep him from leaving. But, what would she say? What could she possibly say?…Oh, please don’t go, I don’t understand what is happening. I-I don’t know what is happening to me….Nay, she could not say anything, except what anyone with no real interest would say. He had been kind, but that was all she should expect from him. Still, she couldn’t just let him go without saying something.

Sir….you are leaving? she asked. You have not even told me your name, so I can at least thank you.

Sorry lass t’at I’m in such a hurry, but I’ve some matters te attend te this mornin’ t’at can’t wait. he replied, as he stood up and began to put on his shirt. I’m….Ar….Christopher Robertson, an’ there’s no need te thank mi. He had almost forgotten he never revealed his true identity.

Well, that’s much better, she replied happily hoping to draw some more information out of him, if she could only come up with something. I’m Gwendalynn Taylor, and I do hope you’ll come here again some time?

Gwendalynn Taylor, he replied dwelling on the name, and eyeing the maiden curiously. He sensed she didn’t want to let him go; and now that he had set his eyes steadily on her, since laying in the bed next to her, he couldn’t deny he was having the same mutual feeling. Still, he offered a reply in a nonchalant manner. T’is a lovely name lass. I shalt forget it. he replied, as he slipped a red and black cloak about his broad shoulders.

Gwendalynn rose from the bed, favorably setting the emerald eyes on the man before her. Such a man, she concluded could never belong to one woman. She felt foolish to even let the thought enter her mind. He was like a heathen god, beautiful, strong, free, and something more: He had a way about him, a magnetic attraction that drew you to him, and the more she observed him the more she realized it; but she didn’t know exactly what it was. Maybe it was his tall beautiful physique, coiled with powerful muscles, or the ruggedly masculine features which had a classic sharpness about them, resulting in a unique handsomeness far from ordinary.

She remained where she was beside the large window watching him as he searched about the room for something he had obviously misplaced. She wanted to ask him what it was, but if she should ask, he might find it, and then he would be on his way. So she remained quiet, following him with her eyes as he went about the room like a handsome prince, attired in the clothing that seemed to be tailored for the like of his physical perfection.

She guessed him to be a towering height of six foot four, in his bare feet, on a body testimony to perfection, as a result of rigorous exercise. The white ruffled shirt he wore was slightly gathered at the shoulders ballooning out toward the wrist, where there it was gathered and encircling the wrist with a wide overlapping cuff; the style enhancing farther the broadness of his shoulders. His royal blue tights, emphasized every rippling muscle on his legs, accompanied by high cut black boots with overlapping cuffs, making his limbs appear even more muscular. As compared to the broadness of his shoulders, the leanness of his hips was smaller than average, and about them he had tied a red sash under a sword belt, that held his sword some ten inches below his knee.

His eyes were blue, with a kind of fiery laughter about them, revealingly expressive with his every mood. His hair was of onyx black, deeply waved, and immensely thick, as were his boldly arched eyebrows which grew so thick they practically grew straight across from brow to brow. Though his nose had a very slight Roman hump, it was unique, combining strikingly with his full elongated mouth, and the strong long square angle of chin. The truth about his whole appearance, on ending her musing, she regretfully concluded: ….To the eyes of the world, he probably didn’t look anything like a pirate, which she now guessed that he was, and more like the kind of man one would think of as having the qualities of greatness. In her conclusion she was, all things considered not entirely wrong, for to the end of his days, men and women alike described Armoles Black as sinfully handsome, with a gift of natural strength and magnetism. Men often envied this gift of easy strength and attraction, and women were discreetly awed when they came in contact with him. Nevertheless, the eyes of the world had not spoiled the man, for he remained a simple natured soul, loving the sea on which he was born. Having been a seaman all his life, and knowing little about the behavior of women made this gift all the more appealing for he did not know conceit.

Finally, she was able to tear her gaze away from him to find out what it was he was searching for. Probably she thought, a pouch of gold or ducats he had misplaced somewhere and couldn’t remember after how happily drunk he had been. Unable to control her curiosity any longer she asked: What may I ask, are you looking for?

At that same moment of asking her question, he pulled a drawer open, and laughed aloud throwing a pouch up in the air and catching it with his left hand.

Aye, so t’was here all the time! he announced, laughter still escaping his lips, I thought ye mite ’ave taken it wench!

Such a quick conclusion on his part stung her.

She came before him surprising him with a spunky attitude, the smile leaving her lips, the emerald pools dancing in quiet irritation. Armoles realized he had falsely accused her. Even if she remained silent, he could consider himself fortunate, for in spite of her circumstances, her demeanor displayed ready spunk, and she didn’t hesitate to deliver her disapproval of his rash words.

If you had been another man, she got out, I would have slapped your face for thinking such a thing! Not that I haven’t done it before, mind you, but only that I could not have done it to you. Not after what you did for me last night.

Armoles stared perplexed at the maiden before him, very much aware of the tone of sincerity in her words, feeling somewhat the knave, but stood his ground.

An’ what difference would t’at ’ave made wench?

Goodness me! she spat now growing even more irritated. Don’t call me wench! The name is Gwendalynn Taylor! You don’t know anything about women do you!….Because Christopher Robertson, she went on with such command in her tone it flabbergasted him for a moment. YOU were the first man I had to convince, in the short time I’ve been in this wretched place….an’…. because you smell good, an’….an….well because I liked you! Wasn’t sure I was capable of that anymore.

He stared at her and she at him. He didn’t know why she had told him all this, but it wasn’t hard for him to sort out the reasons. Also, the liking part was mutual, not to mention how he could relish her spunky spirit. He didn’t stop to think about this mutual discovery, for it didn’t seem important to him at the moment. Instead he reached into his cloak, and drew out the pouch of gold ducats he had just tucked away, it’s contents worth a handsome some.

Take it, he said, an git outta here while ye can mi sweet!

I can’t take this from you! she declared her emerald eyes growing to full ovals. It’s not right! I just met you a few hours ago. Here, please….take it back!

No! Confounded woman. Ye can an’ ye will take it! he returned firmly. Ye can leave this place with t’at kind of money. T’is enough te last ye a gude while ’til ye can find somethin’ more suitable. Ye sure as hell don’t belong here! Besides I own ye a night, even if t’was nothin’ more. Forget about the first customer bein’ on the house, mi sweet, I’m still in a daze. Can’t believe it really happened!

She stood there staring into the many coins in the pouch, looking back at him and the coins in obvious astonishment. She couldn’t get any words out. Then, she looked back at him with that wide grin on his handsome face, unable to utter a word to him, too aghast with delight. She couldn’t believe this could be happening to her; and all brought about by a mere stranger! Yet, in spite of her joy, for some reason she was feeling a bit sad. She thought: Could it be because he was leaving? Nay! How can you feel sad about a man you just met less than twenty-four hours ago? Besides, she mused on his past words: He said he would be back. Don’t be silly! You don’t believe in love at first sight! It’s ridiculous!

Little did she know at the time, the chances of Captain Armoles Black coming back to the same place twice was slim. Still less did she suspect the man who had just given her a chance to begin a new life, was a pirate who’s name was notoriously spreading though out all Europe. So, as to reassure herself, of his return, she found she could not stop herself from inquiring farther.

I trust you will return to Lizeard’s Head soon, she said, her emeralds obs searching his visage. Somehow, I must repay your generosity. I’ll await your return?

Of course Gwendalynn, he replied with a hint of a chuckle. It’ll be a pleasure!

She caught a scant of falseness in his voice, and was not amused, in spite of all else she was grateful for. But, for some reason it troubled her, for she couldn’t trust it. So to assure herself, she repeated the question.

You’re not jesting Christopher, you will be back?

Mi ship must come ashore every two or three months. I’ll be back Gwendalynn. he assured her as he started toward the door.

She watched his hand reaching for the door latch, and thought to remain silent, in her place, but her heart, at the moment wasn’t obeying her mind. Driven by a desire she had yet to understand, she leaped across the room after him, stopping him at the door just before he could open it, and placing her hand over his, resting on the door latch. Looking steadily into his handsome face, her eyes searching for something in his, she came up on her toes wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him slowly on the mouth and savoring the taste of him. A few seconds drifted, and she found herself hanging on to him both of them staring into each others face, so close they felt the warmth of each others breath. And, then she let go words spilling out of her mouth she couldn’t hold in.

I couldn’t have never let you go without doing that….Thank you Christopher Robertson, ….be safe.

He stood there for a moment, as though he had been frozen, knowing not what to do for after her warm lingering kiss, he felt something he didn’t understand, and within the moment his only desire was a panic to run. So without looking back at her, and without uttering a word of farewell, and without kissing her back, he slipped out the door. Hurrying down the stairs of the tavern, he felt his legs involuntarily moving with him, as though a part of him did not wish to go. Reaching the bottom of the tavern stairs he was left with the lingering feeling of her exquisite body melting into his own, and the warmth of her lips sending an ache through him that he felt had reached his soul. For a moment, knowing he had to go, he would have gladly sold his soul to the devil to stay, and have her.

*

When he descended the stairs to the outer door of The Yellow Canary he was met by the blustering voices of his mates Allen and Myles. Allen, as always, liked to amuse himself by teasing him over a prolonged farewell over a maiden he had just met.

Must’ve been a wench te fine te leave ’cause it sure as hell took ye a long time te say goodbye. We been waitin’ f’ar hours!

T’is the likes of ye both te be makin’amusement of y’ar Capt’n. I’d say ye two must’a done wretchedly poor when ye’ve come lookin’ f’ar mi so bright an’ early. I thought surely I’d have te go huntin’ f’ar the both of ye!

Chapter Two

The Capture of The Tigress

JULY-1586

T he moon was just beginning to show its pearly face over the splendorous sheen of the crystal waters along the shore of Lizeards Head. The stillness of the night seemed more obvious by the incessant screeching of the crickets among the dampened trees near the shore. As the crew of Captain Black gathered by the shore to row back out to their ships, not one cricket, bird or human thought anything odd of it. So by dawn, when the sun began to show it’s golden flaming face over the Channels’ surface, Armoles and his men had just reached THE TARANTULA and her sister ships, THE SEA DRAGON and THE EMPRESS. For forty-eight hours they had stood there, anchored in all their vanity, completely unnoticed by anyone. Needless to tell, Captain Armoles Black, and his band of men were pirates unrivaled in their trade.

Later that day, when the night offered it’s purple black coat, and the finely scrubbed belly of THE TARANTULA, and her sister ships had sailed clear of the Channel, the calm of their departure began to transform. The fleet soon came upon mountains of monstrous climbing waves and Armoles began to feel the mounting tension among his crew. Not only had they suddenly come across foul weather, but now it seemed they were surrounded by a treacherous blinding coat of fog. The farther Armoles dared to steer THE TARANTULA away from the fog, the more thickly trapped were they in its’ blinding coat.

Allen paced the poop in a restless manner, his every step sounding like a thunderous drum to his own ears. Myles came from below the half deck, his own face showing concern. Fog was never an act of nature taken lightly by any seaman, it was perilous in countless ways.

This fog, t’is a wicked thin’, opened Myles as he approached. I can never grow use to it.

I’m afraid ’ar luck is ill, f’ar we haven’t come across such fog as this in a long time, an ‘we’ve been out of the Channel for hours.

Aye, exclaimed Myles, an’ most likely we’ll run in te some fat-bellied Spaniard under ’ar very noses, t’which Lord knows ‘will be a hell of a mess!

If we keep ’ar wits aboot us, we just might outsmart this act of the devil’s, offered Armoles.

Let’s hope so, returned both of Armoles’ mates none too at ease.

Then, the dreaded cry surrounded them.

Like a shrieking sound carried away by the wind in the looming darkness of night came the shrilling cry from Tom, the crowsnester on THE TARANTULA.

Ahoy deck! Ship bar’in’ te starboard! Looks like a Spaniard!

Armoles moved quickly to the outer edge of the poop looking out toward the THE TARANTULA’S sister ships. The Spanish galleon was ahead of them, and his other two ships had obviously not noticed. He raised his megaphone up to his mouth, and leaned out on the railing toward his other two ships, hoping both Captains would not fail to hear him.

Ahoy Roberts! Ahoy Smathers! T’is y’ar Capt’n. Prepare te attack! One Spanish galleon baring ahead! Man y’ar stations!

THE SEA DRAGON advanced swiftly to the rear guard of THE TARANTULA’S broadside moving in the vanguard with her sister ships closely following in the form of a spear. Like serpents out to get their prey, the three ships moved so quickly upon the galleons’ rear guard that she was unable to change course. The great galleon was weighted down by tons of treasure and goods, making it difficult to move swiftly away from ships like Armoles’ made for fighting at sea. The galleon stubbornly tried to flee ahead so the enemy approaching could not gain the range to fire upon her, but she reeled violently in her attempt. She was a handsome ship, obviously freshly labored on and seaworthy, but she was no match against the battle speed of Armoles’ man-of-wars. As THE TARANTULA lead the point of the spear forward, Armoles could already see the great ship’s frame in spite of the still looming fog. He could hear the pounding rhythm of the drum driving the galley slaves on as his ships gained in closer. Groans and cries echoed from the oarsmen, as they could no longer maneuver the oars fast enough to escape the rapid approach of the enemy. Armoles knew the galleon would soon become idle as the slaves at the oars would soon stop their rowing even under the demanding brutal abuse of the slave master’s whip. Armoles did not let this advantage escape him. In those few minutes the great galleon vainly fought to escape the broadside from the enemy soon to come, but with THE TARANTULA at the galleon’s broadside and THE SEA DRAGON at her vanguard Armoles fleet had gained the desired range. To the Spaniard’s frustration they were neatly trapped by Armoles’ fleet. But, the galleon was not yet willing to be caged. Enraged by the entrapment of Armoles fleet the Spaniards introduced the first broadside. The blast of the cannons came at such short range that THE TARANTULA reeled in protest from the broadsides’ demonic force. She was forced to withdraw away from the range of the galleons short range cannons, but THE TARANTULA quickly recovered, and moved out of the galleon’s firing range while THE EMPRESS was last to advance upon her on her other side opposite THE SEA DRAGON. The galleon was now trapped from all sides with the enemy surrounding her at a favorable position. To the Spaniard’s discontent at such distance their broadsides would fall short of their target, and surely Armoles fleet would be at an advantage to take her. THE TARANTULA, uniquely mounted with a complete line of long range culverins, boldly maneuvered in to attack. Armoles, annoyed that he had not introduced the first shot, having earlier hoped to board the ship without crippling her immediately shouted out with a counter attack:

Stand by te repel broad’rs! Make every shot count! …. FIRE!

The guns of THE TARANTULA boomed with a volcanic force with THE SEA DRAGON’S cannons exploding in a unison attack upon the galleon. The ships reeled and rocked with a tremendous force, as the ocean seem to tremble with the returning broadsides from the galleon which had somehow captured a good wind in her sails, enough to move in closer on the enemy. THE SEA DRAGON was quick to see the folly, and began to maneuver out of range, but not quick enough. Flaming balls came savagely crashing through THE SEA DRAGON’S main deck, cutting the main mast into a spray of splinters, and crashing down upon her crew. The expression on Armoles’ face tightened murderously at the unwelcome sight. The horrid, shill cry of a falling mast was a terrifying thing to a seaman’s ears. Clouds of thick blue black smoke and flying splinters engulfed the air on THE SEA DRAGON’S deck as the moans of wounded men echoed throughout the entire ship. The men aboard THE SEA DRAGON had been gravely wounded. Bodies lay torn and strewn all about her deck, pools of flesh and blood spilling on to her deck, mortal suffering looming in the air. The fallen mast rested over five men, some of which were still alive and slowly being crushed. One man helplessly dragging behind what was his leg, mostly cut off by the mast, with blood gushing profusely from his upper thigh was desperately struggling to help himself. In his desperation he tried wrapping a piece of torn sail about his leg, but his efforts were in vain. His hands soon became so slippery from the gushing blood that he was unable to help himself. Defeated, he let go in a state of sickened fatigued as he watched his nerves and tendons protrude through his crushed thigh. He laid back upon the deck staring at his mangled body until death claimed him.

Like an advancing deadly plague, the fire spread into the storage bow of the galleon, and again Armoles roared a command.

Fire! That hell sent Spaniard wouldn’t take one of his own ships. He would blow her right out of the ocean!

The guns boomed from THE TARANTULA, crimson lightening illuminating the evening sky with smothering clouds of gray and flying splinters sent asunder. The galleon reeled with incredible force as more than a fourth of her crew was instantly killed while others were tossed and rammed against the ships railing and deck. Almost all the gunners laid dead beneath the cannons their bodies hopelessly maimed. Moaning cries echoed though out the entire vessel engulfing the night air with sounds of death. Armoles knew this was the right time to hit her hard and finish off her crew.

Fire! roared Armoles leaning over the deck railing. Finish’r men!

The flames traveled hungrily along the deck of the great ship, the sea breeze giving it breath to grow all the more engulfing. Another roar of command came from Armoles as the sky flashed crimson, and another broadside came blasting through the poop deck taking most of the railing with it. Echoing screams arose from the oarsmen trapped to their chains, and choking from the flames and smoke. Screams resounded all the more intense as the flames climbed higher and higher and Armoles knew they must board her now or lose her to the sea. He wasn’t about to surrender her to that end when they had fought so valiantly to capture her. Although the fires were spreading rapidly, there was still enough gaps in between the flames, and the flames had yet to overwhelm her main planking. This was the time to board her and Armoles didn’t hesitate to bring on the command. Armoles leaned out on the ratlines hanging on with one arm to get a closer look at the galleons decks delivering another command.

Bring ’er in men! Let’s board’er!

Armoles whirled the grappling hook above his head, tossing it expertly toward the railing of the galleon. The hook clamped its’ teeth deep into the planking. There he anchored the rope to the ratlines and swung himself over the side of the ship and began to walk with his hands on the rope toward the galleons deck while his men followed in the same manner. In less than ten minutes the entire side of the galleon was covered with dozens of grappling hooks and men traveling on the ropes of their grappling hooks until they reached the other ship. Some didn’t make it so easily, for some of the flames had spread to the ropes of their grappling hooks, and they unfortunately ended up in the ocean taking an unexpected bath, but were quickly retrieved from the ocean by their shipmates.

By this time, Armoles had already traveled down below into the galleons’ various quarters. His face was covered with black powder from the gun blasts and he had dozens of little cuts and bruises around his arms and shoulders from flying splinters. Allen had shortly followed his Captain aboard the galleon, but Myles was on THE SEA DRAGON checking on the wounded and trying to get them into the big cabin below. Up to now Myles had not heard from their doctor, and was praying that he was still alive. THE SEA DRAGON had taken a severe beating but not bad enough to keep her from sailing. Her crew, on the other hand, had not been so fortunate, for there were more casualties on THE SEA DRAGON than on Armoles’ other ships.

Armoles was in the quarter deck of the galleon now heading toward the great cabin. Thick choking smoke had made its way through the galley way, but Armoles walked through it fairly unaffected. Having been in the Captain’s cabin in search of anything that could be of value to his fleet, he proceeded toward the great cabin.. He moved toward the door putting his right hand around the knob with his sword drawn in the other, and swiftly forced the door open with the powerful thrust of his right leg. He wasn’t completely inside the cabin, when out of no where he heard the shot of a pistol, and painfully felt the bullet pierce deep into his left shoulder, where not too long before he had been wounded. His big frame folded forward with pain as his hand came up to his shoulder, and he fell there at the entrance of the cabin into a quiet darkness.

From where the shot had come a young woman stood frozen momentarily shocked, a pistol partially dangling within her trembling fingers. Realizing what she had done, in utter terror she ran out of the cabin practically falling over Armoles’ body her face so pale it appeared as though the blood had been drained from it.

Moments later Armoles came back to consciousness his memory momentarily clouded. When he tried to lift himself up and felt the sharp stabbing pain in his left shoulder, it all came back to him. He remembered the figure of a young woman standing frightened before him, the muzzle of her pistol pointed at him, the pistol going off, and the dull thuds of her swift footsteps crossing over him as she ran out of the cabin. He cursed at himself for having been so careless. The cabin was blurred as he tried to rise, but he managed to retrieve his sword, and get on his feet, and dizzily stagger out onto the open deck. Allen just arriving noticed him from a distance, but failed to notice he was shot. Allen had gathered the galley slaves by this time along with the help of other crewmen, and had come to the open deck where Armoles was. As he moved closer toward his Captain, he noticed he was walking rather unsteady and realized something was wrong. He came quickly to his side, and saw Armoles was wounded.

Armoles y’r shot! What happened?

T’was mi own fault, replied Armoles aggravated by his own carelessness. I should’ave looked bet’tar than I did.. I kicked the door open, and before I got halfway in, there she was with a pistol pointin’ up mi nose!

Can ye make it back?

Aye, I’ll manage.

Aye, ….I’m goin’ te fine the wench before she shoots somebody else!

All the wounded men were brought aboard THE TARANTULA, and THE EMPRESS, since both ships were the largest in the fleet. The slaves had eagerly made their way into the two ships very grateful these pirates had been kind enough not to have blown them all to bits while they had been chained to the oars. Still more delightful to them was the fact that they were roaming free about the ships deck, and no one seem to care they had been left unguarded. Could it be this Captain Black did not intend to keep them as prisoners? They soon learned this was precisely what Armoles intended. It was not too long after they had been freed that Armoles appeared on the poop of his ship to announce it. They gathered about the main deck in complete amazement, still not quite believing the welcomed friendly words coming from Armoles’ lips.

I see we’ve captured a large number of ye, shouted Armoles over the poop bringing his hand up to meet the painful wound on his shoulder, but still flashing a grin of even white teeth.

T’is indeed fortunate f’ar both of us! Welcome all of ye! He clenched his teeth as a sharp pain shot down his entire arm and shoulder, but he continued, hoping he wouldn’t collapse.

Those of ye called slaves are no longer slaves on this ship. If ye wish te remain an’ join mi fleet y’ar welcome. Those t’at do not will be put ashore on the next land we hit. We have but one sole purpose among all of us; te serve England and our Queen in the way we know to be best. Of course, we will do ar’selves favors as often as possible. When we hit land there will be wages accordin’ te what we’ve earned, all the ale ye can drink, an’ all the women ye have the talent te master.

The freed men roared with immense satisfaction at Armoles’ words, and Armoles turned to depart from the poop knowing he had just gained a large number of men for his ships. Among his fleet it was not a rare occurrence. It was how he always enlarged his crews. So it was no wonder then as to why a fourth of his men consisted of negroes whom the Spanish used as slaves, leaving the other three-fourths of his men who were usually English prisoners, also taken from the galleys that he captured. With such a mixture of men one would have thought the men could sometimes grow difficult to restrain, nevertheless under Armoles command all were kept well satisfied. Hearing from older crew members of what it was like to tangle with the Captain, rarely was there any trouble. It was well known and proven many times, Captain Armoles Black was not a man to reckon with. A master swordsmen with such keenness of mind, and such easy strength did not make for a tempting challenge for any man with enough sense to realize it.

Looking around in the lower cabins, Allen still had not found the young woman who had shot Armoles, and decided that maybe she had made it up to the main deck. As he came up to the main deck, no longer as cautious, he was surprised by the roar of a pistol just over his head. As he turned around to find the source, he saw it was the young woman. Her lovely face was pale from her desperation, but she still managed to throw the pistol at him. Allen ducked quickly and the pistol flew over his head, as the woman started to run away from him. Her attempt to escape him, she found was quite useless, for her fancy skirts weighted her down, and she couldn’t run fast enough. She couldn’t jump overboard, for in her attire, she would never be able to swim, and where would she swim to in the middle of the ocean. Knowing this she stood there, her lovely face flustered with anger, no longer frightened, but feeling a great humiliation at her own helplessness. Allen came up to her and grabbed her roughly. She pulled away from him abruptly, her large green eyes shining like cool ice.

Don’t touch me you pig!

Ye little wasp! returned Allen. Now ye act like a lady or I mite forget te be a gentleman!

He grabbed her again, this time not quite so gentle, and pushed her to walk before him.

Let go of me! she spat. My Father will have your head for this!

An’ I shall ’ave y’ars f’ar shootin’ our Captain!

She fought with all her strength to get free of Allen’s iron grip, but soon she tired and Allen was able to bring her aboard THE TARANTULA.

After having brought the woman who shot Armoles aboard THE TARANTULA, Allen put the ships back a sail. THE TARANTULA had received little damage, and what damage she had could easily be repaired while sailing. THE SEA DRAGON, however, had not been so fortunate. A fourth of