Mystic Memories Read Online Free PDF Page B

his quarters. “I believe our dinner still awaits us.”
    Couldn’t the fool see that the wind had grown stronger? Couldn’t he fathom the severity of the storm bearing down upon them? Blake resisted the urge to bark orders to the men standing together in the middle of the ship’s deck, awaiting commands from their deranged captain.
    “I believe our dinner will have to wait, sir,” said Blake, his patience strained to the limit. “Might I suggest that necessary precautions be taken for the weather?”
    The full import of the innocuous statement seemed to register in the officer’s mind. He suddenly blinked as if coming out of a trance, glanced about at the starless sky and the turbulent seas, then turned upon the line of seven men.
    “You!” Johnson bellowed at one sailor he had singled out from among the rest.
    The young fellow stared at the accusing fingertip as if it were a sword point at his throat. “Me, sir?”
    “ You should have informed me of the southeaster. What sort of sailor are you?”
    “But, sir—”
    “Don’t argue with me,” barked the captain, closing the short distance between them. The young man’s eyes widened with fright. “It will be on your head if we lose a man tonight. We’ll be lucky if we come out alive.”
    Blake saw the lad’s lower lip tremble. Good God, he barely looked old enough to shave, let alone stand up for himself against the captain.
    “It warn’t my fault, sir. I dinna know—”
    Backhanding the sailor’s cheek, Johnson shouted, “Shut up, you bastard.”
    The cracking sound could have been a jawbone snapping, but it would have been hard to say with absolute certainty. For it was the lad’s cry of pain that pealed loudest through the blustering wind.
    Blake could not reach the captain in time to stop the brutalizing of another member of the small crew. A larger vessel would have carried enough able-bodied seamen to sustain the loss of two. As it stood now, there were barely enough left to make sail.
    “Captain Johnson.” Blake placed his hand on the man’s arm before he could hit the young sailor again. “I urge you to give orders before we lose all your men. We will be hard-pressed to get under way with only the six you have left, sir.”
    “I have a full crew on board this brig. And the entire lot of them will do the work or they will all be flogged.” The man was beyond reasoning with. As the wind whipped at their clothing and the first raindrops began to fall, the young sailor clutched his jaw, sucking back sobs of pain and fear. The flogged sailor still hung unconscious from the shrouds, unaware and incapable of following any orders from the captain of the Mystic .
    Staring at the seaman’s bloodied back, Blake shucked his coat and tossed it to the cook. “Stow this for me. And get me an oilcloth.” He then turned to Johnson. “I am taking that sailor below. When I come back, I will be his replacement. You shall have your full crew, sir .”
    “I forbid it! You are an officer. You are my guest.”
    “I am a sailor first, Captain. And right now you need my hands and my skills a hell of a lot more than you need one more goddamn officer on this brig.”
    He did not back down from his challenge, certain that Johnson would not refuse the renowned skills of Captain Blake Masters. A first-rate seaman, Blake was also well known as one of the youngest captains on the high seas. At thirty, he had more years of experience than most officers his age. For this reason, Blake was all too aware of the current breach of etiquette between fellow officers. This was not his command. Yet he could not stand idly by and watch the brig go down with all hands. Lives were at stake, including his own.
    Johnson snapped to, commanding the ship as he should have done earlier. Precious time had been wasted. The crew hastily set to work.
    Blake carried the beaten sailor to his berth. Sadly, there was no time to tend his open wounds. He could only leave the moaning man and