Chance the Winds of Fortune Read Free Page B

fascinating and irresistible, Alastair thought with a good-natured sigh. His own features were, he had to confess, unremarkable and, if truth be admitted, downright plain.
    Alastair followed the captain’s gaze, wondering what he was seeing beyond the brilliant blues and greens of the Caribbean sky and sea. Dante was a driven man, and Alastair knew that until the captain settled an old score and laid to rest the pale ghost who haunted him, he would never find peace. Even when he’d been rowed back to the Sea Dragon , the successfully retrieved strongbox held firmly on his lap, the captain’s face had mirrored no excitement or pleasure at the find. There’d been only that same grim determination that was always there. Over the years Alastair had gleaned something of Dante’s past, and knew what manner of man he was, so he suspected he knew what the captain would do with his share of the treasure. And it would take a king’s fortune to put right the wrong done to the captain, and it would take that much as well to save Dante Leighton from the gallows if he carried out his revenge.
    Alastair sighed, wondering what troubles awaited them with the recovery of this treasure. He smiled slightly as he gave in to the sweet seductiveness of his own daydreams. The bright scarlet and orange colors of the West Indian sunset faded and were replaced by the pale gray skies of an overcast English afternoon, cold rain dripping from the bare branches of an old oak, and in the distance… Alastair shook his head, clearing it of such foolishness, for they had yet even to find this treasure ship, and here he was already spending his share, as well as drumming up trouble for Dante.
    No, the first duty of the day was to keep the winds filling the sails of the Sea Dragon . Once they reached the Florida Straits they would decide about the treasure, allowing, of course, that they sighted no Union Jacks fluttering at the jackstaffs of His Majesty’s ships—as well as any other sea vermin. His Majesty’s Navy had got real nasty of late, Alastair muttered, harboring no fond memories of the Royal Navy. A worried frown creased his brow at the thought of the increasing numbers of British men-of-war now patrolling the coasts, zealously enforcing the Acts of Trade. It seemed to him that the Sea Dragon hardly would have docked, the bow-fast not yet secured, before there would be some officious customs officer on board, prowling about from stem to stern, making a nuisance of himself until the memory of the unpleasant odor of burning tar sent him scuttling back to the safety of the customhouse. Not that the Sea Dragon had ever been caught with a hold full of contraband, thought Alastair, proud of her untarnished record. And even had the unforgivable happened, and she’d had her cargo seized, the Sea Dragon had powerful friends in the Admiralty Court.
    Squinting his eyes against the sun, Alastair scanned the far distant horizon, fervently hoping that they wouldn’t sight another sail until safely docked in Charles Town. He particularly did not care to see HMS Portcullis , an eighteen-gun sloop, under the command of Captain Sir Morgan Lloyd. It seemed to Alastair that the Welshman was always there, lying in wait to catch the Sea Dragon with her hold full of contraband. Aye, but that was wishful thinking on Captain Morgan Lloyd’s part, Alastair thought with a smile of grim satisfaction, for the Sea Dragon had outmaneuvered and outsailed HMS Portcullis on too many occasions for it to sit easily in the Welshman’s belly. And yet, despite their being on different sides of the law, there seemed to be no true enmity between the two captains. Apparently, they shared a mutual respect for each other’s abilities and indeed carried on as if it were all a chess game, with their respective ships serving as queens. If he hadn’t known Dante Leighton better, then he’d have said that the crew of the Sea Dragon was