Prologue
The Caribbean - late 1700s
The water was flatasa looking glass, capturingthe moonlight and stars that twinkled down from above and reflecting just enough light thatthe ship gliding ahead of them appeared black andghostlikeinthedarkness.
From her positionatthefront of the small dugout canoe in which she rode, Valoree motioned, and the men at the oars immediately slowedtheir rowing.At another signal, the sailors raised their oars out of the water, and the craftslid silently up beside the larger craft.
Immediately those on the left side of the canoewithdrew hooks on longropes and sent them whistling throughthe air to catch on therail above. For a momentthey waited, staring breathlessly up theside of the large galleon and holding the lines, allowing their craft to be dragged along bythe larger ship's momentum. At last, whenahueandcryfailedto arise, all eyesslowlyreturned to Valoree.
Shestared back, knowing these menallsaw her asa slender youngman - little more than a boy, really.All of them butHenry.
He alone knew that their deceased captain's younger brother Valerian, who had served as acabinboy These last eight years, was reallya girl. Of coursehe knew;he'd been the one who had suggestedthe charade so manyyears before, when he'd realized thatJeremy - hiscaptain and herbrother - intended tokeep her aboard aship full of pirates.
Aye, thesemen allthought hera lad, young and untried. And yet, they hadvowedto followher. Only a desire forvengeance could make these two dozenmen, cutthroats andhooligans all, follow someone they had always looked uponas a green lad, a little brother or son to be coddledand spoiled. Andvengeance they wouldhave.
Glancing down into thewater, Valoree took inherreflection.
Her bodywas slim - she waslean rather than muscular - and it trembledwith anticipation. For a momentshe imagined that her eyes were nolonger those of the youthwho hadmoved easily among these men, laughing and chatting as she'd gone about her chores. Nay, her eyesnow seemed old, hard, bitter with fresh loss. A lossthesemen sharedas well.
Herbrother had been a good manandafair captain, and his ship, theValor, had been the onlyhome most of his crew had knownforthe last eight years. The men who now accompanied her were thelastof that crew.She glanced aroundat them, then back at herreflection.
Thoughher shirt was her own, she now wore her brother's breeches, along with his hatand jacket. Jeremy's boarding ax and pike were hooked through the thick belt at her waist, and a brass-barreled flintlock was sticking out ofthose baggy, too-large pants.The captain'scutlass rested in its sheath where ithungat her side. She had taken his clothing when she had sworn' vengeance for his death - andshe had notbathed since.
Everyinchof her body, every item, every inch of cloth, wood, and metal was covered with its owner's dried blood, as were Valoree's face, hands, and feet.Evenher longhair was crusty with the stuff.Though it wasnormally avibrant, fiery red - as her brother's had been - it was now streaked through with crimson, marked by the red blood of her brother's death - a reminder of her vow.
Herbrother had notdied easily. He had notdied quickly.He, along with the majority of his men, had died slowly and in torment. And for that, Valoree and the remainder of Jeremy's crewhad vowed, these Spaniardswould pay.
Sheglanced toward Skullyandnodded. The cadaverous man immediately reached for histools, and Valoreeturnedher back as he began to bore holes in thebottomof theircraft. She regarded her crew, awaitingtheirreaction.She did nothave long to wait.
Skully wasstillworkingon the second hole when the last of them turned toherin understanding. In their faces she read approval and a grudgingrespect. To reassurethem of her intent, she half hissed, half whispered, "We take this shiporwedie. There is no escape. We fight not onlyto avenge the deaths of goodmen, but for our lives."
"Forour lives and vengeance, " Henry vowed beside her in a hushed tone. His words were immediately taken up by the others.
"Lifeand vengeance!"
She relaxed somewhat at their acceptance, an odd calm overtaking heras shesilently watched Skullyfinishboringthe holes in the bottom of their boat. The holes were relatively small, butevenso, by the timehe hadstartedon thesixth, theboat was alreadygathering water andbeginning tosink.
As Skully hurriedly returned his tools to hissatchel, Valoree drew her brother'scutlass from its sheath. Moving to theside of their slowly sinking ship, she led the men inastealthyclimb up the side of the Spanish galleon. Her bare hands and feet moved surely up the rope until she reached the top, the others close behind. Pausing there, Valoree peered over the side and glared about.
Several men, taking advantage of the night breeze, were sleepingout in theopen airof the deck. Valoree glanced toward thehelm andsmiled grimly uponseeing thehelmsman. The man, while still athis post, hadnodded off and was nowdozing away his shift, senseless. There was no one to give an alarm. The Spaniards would betaken completely by surprise.
Slipping silently over the side, Valoree hunkered low, sticking totheshadows. Her men followed. As thelastof them slid tothe deck, she gestured silently, dividing them intotwo groupswith onesimplewave of herhand, then gesturingfor one group to stay abovedeck, while directing the otherstoward the darkhole that was theentrance to thecabins. Theyall beganto moveat once, separating andmoving all over the ship. The men above deck positionedthemselves amongthe sleeping Spaniards, ready to set to work, butwaiting the few moments necessary to allow those men slipping through the hole to reach their targets, lest some sound ordeath crywarn theirenemiesbelow.
Leaving the rest of the crew to the others, Valoree moved stealthily toward the helmsman. She had nearly reached him when something startled the man awake.
Drawing a sword, the Spaniard peered blearily at her. She froze, but his gaze found her anyway. Takingin Jeremy'sbloody clothesandherredhair flowing about her blood-streaked face, heblinked.
"Rojo ...El Capitan Rojo? "
Valoree stiffened at the words, recognizing the name the Spanish used for herbrother. Captain Red, because of his red hair.
"Regresadelmuerto... El Rojo, " the man whispered faintly, then straightened abruptly, shrieking."Regresa del muerto. El Rojo!"
His cry awokeothers nearby, and thesleepy-eyed menturned to gape at herin horror. Thehelmsman's cry was taken up again andagain. "Regresa del muerto.ElRojo!"
For a moment, everyone was still. The others she'd brought withher, startled by the shouting, turned to peerat Valoree. She drew back, annoyed, then peeredaboutatthefrozen tableau. Her crewmates seemedastransfixedasthe Spaniards. With aglance atthe nearest of the men, she snappedirritably, "What the devil ishe saying, Henry? "
Drawn out of his startled state by the question, the quartermaster relaxed andgrimly smiled. Thenhe shrugged. "He's thinkin' ye're yer own brother, Captain Red.He's thinkin'ye're backfrom the dead. He'sscreamin' 'Back-from-the-Dead Red, '"
heexplained. Thecry continued around them.
"Regresadelmuerto. El Rojo!"
"Back-from-the-Dead Red? " Valoree repeated, then frownedat theterrified Spaniards."Well, atleastthey shall know whythey die." Raising Jeremy's cutlass, she advancedon the helmsman, but much to her consternation, the man immediatelydropped his weapon. For a moment, Valoree wasnonplussed, butthe sudden chorus of metal against wood drew her attention to thefact that every Spaniard aboard the ship was nowgivingup his weapon unasked, all dropping themto the deck floor.
"What the devil are they doing? " Valoree cried in dismay."Are they notgoing to fight? "
Henry glanced around, then turned to face her. "Well, " he drawled, scratching at his ear. "I'mthinkin' they'rethinkin' that since ye're a ghostand all, there ain't no sense in afightin' ye.