Read Legend of the Gypsy Queen Skull: The Devil's Triangle - Book 1 for Free Online Page B

the bridge.
    “Helmsman, hard about, starboard!”
    “Aye aye sir.”
    “Ensign, signal flare!” Darcy ordered
aloud.
    Moments later he heard the ensign announce,
“Fire in the hole!” as a flare skyrocketed up into the air, where
it exploded into a starburst pattern, high above the Lexington.
    Soon, the rest of the trailing convoy ships
merged into a single file battle column behind their flagship.
    “Well, at least they know how to follow
basic drill orders,” Lieutenant Fairfield dryly commented to the
captain, in regard to the other ship commands.
    Gazing out at the distant pirate ships,
Darcy pulled a couple of Cuban cigars from a leather pouch and
handed one over to his lieutenant. Striking a match, Fairfield lit
the captain’s cigar first, then his own, before tossing it
overboard. The two men took long draws off of their Havanas,
blowing out large clouds of smoke, filling the air with their
hearty aroma. For the better part of an hour, they patiently
watched as they slowly gained on the corsairs.
    When his cigar had finally burned down to a
nub, Fairfield took one last drag and tossed it into the sea.
Exhaling the smoke out of his nostrils, he locked eyes with the
captain and solemnly nodded. They both knew they were going to get
bloody on this one.
    ~*~
    Darcy had dealt with cutthroats of this ilk
before. It was years ago, during his last Caribbean tour. He and
his crew were conducting shipping lane patrols to intercept and
confiscate pirate ships from the West Indies.
    These hijackers made their living sacking
Cuban molasses ships, usually murdering their crews, and then
trading the stolen cargo for refined barrels of rum in New York.
From there, they’d sail up the coast to the Port of Boston, where
they’d make a killing reselling these barrels to Dutch
exporters.
    If there was one thing the captain had
learned from those skirmishes, it was that pirates would never give
up without a hell of a fight. Sure, these outlaws might try to
outrun you at first, but if you cornered them, they’d surely turn
and hit you with everything they had.
    These corsairs were no different. Surrender
was not an option for them. They knew if they were captured alive,
it would be the executioner’s chopping block or a noose hung from
the yardarm for them.
    ~*~
    Minutes later, as the Lexington drew within
a couple of miles of the pirates, Darcy said with a sinking tone in
his voice, “Oh no…” and lowered his spyglass.
    “What’s up capt’n?” Fairfield asked.
    “Slave galleys.”
    “How can you tell?” he asked as Darcy handed
him the spyglass.
    “Look closer, and you’ll see they’ve got
oars jutting out from their sides. Also, they’re on a heading
straight for Algiers.”
    Both men were well aware the port city was
the heart of the North African slave market and a thorny subject
between the Sultan and the crown.
    “Their hulls are riding low, too,” the
lieutenant observed. Most likely they were overloaded with Northern
European slaves.
    ~*~
    Recent reports had told of Barbary pirates
like these raiding fishing villages as far north as Iceland. Nordic
men were a hearty breed and made good laborers. The women too, with
their fair skin and blue eyes, were coveted treasures for any slave
owner. Wealthy sheiks would often get into bidding wars over some
of these exotic beauties in hopes of adding them to their harems.
For these reasons Nordic slaves would command premium prices at
auction.
    ~*~
    Closing in on the Barbary pirates, Darcy’s
original plan was to pull up alongside them and blast their hulls
with cannon fire until they sank. But now, the game had changed. He
couldn’t sink vessels with innocents onboard. After all, they
weren’t animals like these corsairs.
    “There’s probably slaves chained to those
oars, so we can’t pull their plug outright,” the captain said
turning to his lieutenant.
    “Aye captain,” Fairfield replied in a deadly
serious tone.
    ~*~
    Although he was a blue-blooded