Free Beloved Warrior by PATRICIA POTTER Page A

English warships. France is to the northeast. Both would hang mutineers. Or worse.
    “Or,” he continued, “you could just head out to open sea until the wind dies and supplies disappear. The ale will be gone as well. You will die of thirst. Or starvation. This ship is not provisioned for a long voyage.”
    The ship listed starboard. His companions, already unsteady from spirits, slid toward the rail and grabbed a rope to keep from going overboard.
    Patrick took the wheel back and straightened the ship. “There is too much sail for the wind.”
    “What gives you the right to be master?” Felix tried to reestablish his standing among his comrades as more and more of the oarsmen came on deck and stood uneasily. Some staggered. Two were still in their loincloths.
    “I have sailed before,” Patrick said, refusing to take offense. None of them really knew each other despite being confined together for months, in some instances years. “Two years learning navigation and the sea. I have never captained a ship, though, and I would be willing to sail under any man here who has.”
    Diego joined him as the last of the oarsmen appeared on deck. He repeated the words in Spanish, and then in halting Arabic. Patrick repeated them in French.
    No one stepped forward.
    “We are mutineers in the eyes of the world.’Tis no matter that we were slaves, many unjustly. All countries fear mutiny on their ships. No country will welcome us.”
    “Where do we go then?”
    Now it came. “Scotland. I propose that we sail to the shores of Scotland. My family there owns ships. We will sell the cargo, then scuttle the Sofia. Our ships will take you wherever you want to go with enough gold to keep you in rum and women for years.”
    He waited as his words were translated. Some nods. Some frowns. Some expressions of agreement. Some of angry rebuttal.
    “The women,” one pointed out. “If they live, they can tell what happened.”
    The men were right. That was the dilemma that had plagued him since he found them in Mendoza’s cabin.
    “I swear they will not.”
    “How can you do that?” asked the man who had taken the wheel.
    “My life is as much at risk as yours. I will not release them until I am absolutely sure. If not, then . . .”
    He left the threat dangling in the wind, then quickly changed the subject. “How many have served aboard a ship as a sailor?”
    Three men stepped forward. To his surprise, Felix was one of them, although it had been obvious he’d never handled the wheel before.
    God help him. Only a total of three had any experience at all, other than rowing.
    “Can anyone help the blacksmith?” he asked.
    No one came forward.
    “Cook?”
    Two raised their hands.
    “Fishermen.”
    One stepped forward.
    “You’ve repaired nets?”
    “Aye.”
    “Now you will repair sails.”
    One by one he discovered talents, or lack of them. Those who had none he asked to serve as apprentices to someone who had a skill.
    “We haven’t agreed on a captain,” Felix complained. “Nor have we agreed on the women.”
    Diego stepped forward then. “The women can bring money. And protection. Papers show the woman is meant to be the bride of a wealthy English lord,” he said. “If anything goes wrong with the Scot’s plan, we have her to bargain with. The English would pay for her freedom. But not if she has been spoiled.”
    Patrick was startled at Diego’s intercession. He’d heard some of the crew talk about pirating. Mayhap the prospect of treasure could keep the oarsmen from raping the two women. Diego was proving to be a man of many talents.
    “As for captain,” Diego continued, “you would not be free if not for this man. Many of you saw him kill Mendoza. He is a warrior and he knows navigation. We need him. I suggest we name him captain and accept his offer.”
    “Aye,” the MacDonald agreed.
    “How do we know he has what he said in Scotland?” persisted Felix.
    “Spaniards will not be welcome in Scotland,”