Betrayed in the Keys Read online

  MATTHEW RIEF

  BETRAYED IN THE KEYS

  A Logan Dodge Adventure

  Florida Keys Adventure Series

  Volume 4

  Copyright © 2018 by Matthew Rief

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  THE END

  About the Author

  Logan Dodge Adventures

  Gold in the Keys

  (Florida Keys Adventure Series Book 1)

  Hunted in the Keys

  (Florida Keys Adventure Series Book 2)

  Revenge in the Keys

  (Florida Keys Adventure Series Book 3)

  Betrayed in the Keys

  (Florida Keys Adventure Series Book 4)

  If you’re interested in receiving my newsletter for updates on my upcoming books, you can sign up on my website:

  matthewrief.com

  MAP

  PROLOGUE

  Florida Bay

  1672

  A strong gust of warm sea air brushed against the man’s scruffy face, causing him to shield it with his hand and look over his right shoulder. His deep brown eyes grew wide, then he blinked a few times, unable to believe what he was seeing. Less than half a mile from where he sat perched atop the mainmast of his ship, the dark outline of a second ship appeared like a demon through a veil of dense morning fog.

  “Captain!” he yelled as loudly as he could. He held tightly to the upper portions of the main ratlines as he leaned over, casting his gaze towards the quarterdeck.

  Captain John Shadow, the notoriously ruthless pirate, stood beside the port gunwale. He was an imposing sight, standing at well over six feet tall, with the strong frame of a man who’d spent a lifetime undergoing the harsh conditions at sea. He had midnight-black hair that he kept short and a full beard with sideburns like stirrups. His roughly chiseled face and piercing brown eyes struck fear into his adversaries. He wore a leather tricorn hat that was tattered from years at sea, a white button-up shirt, black pants, and tall leather boots. Attached to his waistband were a pair of gold-hilted cutlasses along with a dagger and a loaded flintlock, weapons that rarely left his body.

  His left arm rested against the main boom as he looked out over the bow and the white-covered horizon. Hearing the call from above, he gazed towards the lookout post atop the mainmast. In the waters of Florida Bay and along the stretch of islands off Southern Florida, it was important to station a watch to keep an eye out for shallow reefs and ledges. Though charts were used, they were far from perfect, and oftentimes mistakes were made.

  Seeing that the lookout was pointing over the stern, Shadow turned around, and his eyes grew wide when he saw the approaching ship. Instinctively, he reached into his trousers’ front pocket and pulled out a brass spyglass.

  “How are they sailing in such shallow waters, Blackwood?” Shadow asked his first mate, but as he focused through his scope at the oncoming ship, he realized that it wasn’t an ordinary warship. “That’s a sloop,” he added, pulling his spyglass away and handing it to his first mate.

  Nash Blackwood looked through the lens at the ship. Unlike his captain, Blackwood was short and stocky, but he was as strong as an ox.

  After a few seconds, he nodded. “Yes, Captain. She’s a sloop alright.”

  Peering through the scope, they could see the first union flag, one similar to the Union Jack aside from its lack of Irish diagonal stripes, as it waved gently at the peak of the mainmast.

  For nearly five years, Shadow and his buccaneers had sailed unencumbered throughout the waters surrounding the southern islands off Florida. They called the islands by their Spanish name of Los Martires, meaning the martyrs, a name which had been given to them by Ponce de León as he’d searched for the Fountain of Youth. During their years of piracy, Shadow and his crew had picked off their prey, one by one, with deadly precision. Their shallow draft, unparallel speed, and knowledge of their domain allowed them to catch many unsuspecting Spanish galleons and English merchant ships off guard.

  For the first time since Shadow and his crew had committed mutiny, taken over the Crescent and turned to piracy, they’d become the hunted.

  On the approaching ship, the Royal Navy sailors rigged their sails to catch all of the tropical wind as they zeroed in on the pirates. Though sloops were primarily merchant vessels, many English higher-ups saw the value in a warship that could track down its enemies faster and in shallower waters. What the Valiant lacked in firepower, it made up for in maneuverability.

  Most of its hull was copper-clad, preventing barnacles and other sea growth from attaching themselves and causing drag. The hull design was streamlined for efficiency, its masts, sails, and rigging the best that royal money could buy. It was crewed by some of the most seasoned and well-trained sailors in the Royal Navy. And William Gray, a British officer who was well known for his ability to track down and courageously engage pirates, was its captain.

  “Load the bow cannon,” Gray yelled. “Prepare to fire a warning shot.”

  Back on the Crescent, Shadow glanced down at his compass, which was mounted in a gimbal in order to be less affected by the motion of the ship. The thin slice of magnetic ore oriented itself in its naturally drawn north-south direction, giving Shadow an indication of north in relation to the course they were heading.

  “Check our speed, Blackwood,” Shadow said.

  His first mate nodded and brought two men up from the main deck. One of them grabbed a small coil of rope with a flat wooden triangle attached on all three corners at the end. The rope was marked at intervals by uniformly spaced knots, and the other end was coiled around a wooden reel. With a nod of his head, the buccaneer dropped the triangle into the sea from the stern. The friction of the water against the wood caused the line to pay out from the reel. The ship’s speed would be estimated by timing the paying out of the knots using a sandglass.

  As the last of the fine sand tumbled to the bottom of the glass, Blackwood looked up and said, “Nine knots, Captain.”

  Shadow had his chart table and map rule laid out on an upturned barrel that was a quarter of the way filled with freshwater. A quick calculation revealed that it would take just under three hours for his ship to reach their shoreline fortifications to the southeast, and that was if the wind stayed true. It would be less if he could sail straight, but the fourteen-knot headwind blowing in from the east forced the captain to tac
k his schooner back and forth, making it take longer to travel from one place to another. Trying to reach his fortifications was out of the question.

  A moment later, the sounds of waves crashing against the hull were overtaken by a loud explosion from far behind them. Shadow turned around just in time to see a cannonball splash into the water a few hundred feet from the Crescent’s starboard side. It was a warning shot, and Shadow knew that he’d have to give the English warship an answer soon.

  As he did before any engagement, Shadow ran through scenarios in his mind. Since he couldn’t outrun his enemy, he only had two options: fight or surrender. But even if he threw up a makeshift white flag, signaling surrender, he knew that the Royal Navy sailors would show no mercy. He along with his crew would be hanged in Port Royal in front of hundreds of angry spectators. Shadow had seen it many times before. No, there would be no surrender. If they went down, they’d do so sword in hand and with freedom in their lungs.

  Shadow decided in an instant to take on the approaching ship like he had every other problem in his life, head-on. After having Blackwood gather the crew on the main deck, he stepped onto the railing just forward of the helm and grabbed the mainsheet with his left hand for support.

  “Warriors of the seas,” Shadow yelled, standing with his chest out, “for years I’ve fought alongside you. Countless times have we battled and spilt blood together. Now, this beast that lurks in the fog demands our surrender. It demands that we resign our fate to the gallows and die as prisoners.” He paused a moment, then added with an even stronger tone, “I cannot speak for you men, but as for myself, as long as I have breath in my lungs and blood coursing through my veins, I will fight with all that I am. I will not go down until every trace of life has left me. I will fight, and fight on until I have nothing left.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath. Then, snatching one of his rapiers with his right hand, he continued, “This beast demands our lives. But if it wants them, it’s gonna have to come and bloody get them!”

  Shadow lifted his sword high above his head and gave a loud battle cry. As his men joined in the intimidating chorus, Shadow leapt back onto the quarterdeck. Striding towards the stern, he aimed his sword towards the Valiant and yelled once more, this time directing his barbaric voice towards his enemies.

  As his newly energized men prepared for battle, Shadow took another look at the ship behind them and cursed it under his breath. A young man with tanned skin and dirty blond hair ran up beside him. He handed his captain a leather sash with four loaded flintlocks holstered in a row, which Shadow secured across his chest. Then he handed Shadow two loaded muskets, which he propped against the gunwale beside him.

  “Thank you, Ulysses,” Shadow said. He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, looked into his eyes, and added, “Be courageous, and get to your post.”

  The young man nodded and strode down the steps towards the third cannon from the stern. Shadow watched as his crew jumped into action, taking charge of their roles and completing actions as they had hundreds of times before. They grabbed muskets, powder kegs, and cannonballs, staged boarding lines with metal hooks attached, and moved the cannons into position.

  Though the ship’s ten guns below deck were essentially locked in place, the five up on the main deck were easily mobile, allowing them to be moved back and forth depending on their enemy’s location. Shadow watched as the main deck gun crews rolled their cannons into place and secured them.

  When his men were almost finished preparing, Shadow gave out another loud battle cry and grabbed hold of the helm himself. With strong movements, he rotated it as fast as he could to port, causing the rudder to angle and the ship to undergo a sweeping turn. As the Crescent completed its turn and the approaching English ship came into view, the main boom slammed into the rigging and the mainsail caught all of the wind, accelerating them towards their enemy.

  As the two ships closed in on each other, a loud explosion rattled the air, followed by a plume of white smoke as the Valiant again fired its bow cannon. This time it was clear that the English captain was no longer interested in sending warning shots. The heavy ball of lead rocketed toward them, spinning and slicing through the air before splashing into the water less than fifty feet from the Crescent’s port bow. Shadow smiled as a large spray of seawater rose into the air.

  When the two ships were less than a quarter of a mile from each other, Shadow turned sharply to port, wanting to take the English on his starboard side. Twenty of his men gathered at the starboard bow, loading their muskets and preparing to fire. As the gun teams loaded their cannons and muscled the barrels through the starboard portholes, Shadow ordered his men at the bow to take aim.

  Closing the distance to just a few hundred feet, Shadow ordered the main and fore sail sheets to be loosened until the massive sails flapped in the wind. With the wind spilling out of the sails, the Crescent slowed as the two bows crossed each other. Shadow didn’t hesitate.

  “Fire muskets!” he yelled.

  Less than a second later, the starboard bow of the Crescent exploded to life as a loud symphony of gunpowder ignited. Plumes of white smoke appeared as the line of musket balls tore through the air. The sailors aboard the Valiant took cover, but a handful were struck by the ferocious balls of lead, some dying on impact and some losing limbs as the force ripped them from their bodies.

  With the two ships sailing alongside each other, Shadow turned his attention to his gun teams. They would engage in the most common and brutal configuration of Naval warfare in the age of sail: broadside to broadside. Shadow could see the Valiant sailors moving about on the deck, their blue uniforms unmistakable and the officers’ golden buttons reflecting off what little light bled through the surrounding fog.

  Shadow grabbed one of his rapiers with his right hand and held it high over his head.

  “Fire!” he yelled, his voice booming and filled with rage.

  With careful and practiced timing, the cannons along the starboard side of the Crescent thundered to life two at a time. There was reason behind every action, regardless of how chaotic it seemed. Firing all ten cannons along the starboard side at the same time would create a combined recoil force that the Crescent’s inner hull wouldn’t be able to withstand.

  In a loud haze of yellow flame and white-gray smoke, the six-pound balls of lead exploded out of the cannons’ mouths. Screaming through the air at over seven hundred miles per hour, the heavy projectiles crashed through the Valiant’s hull, sending hundreds of sharp splinters spraying like shrapnel into anything and anyone in their path.

  Within seconds, the English ship retaliated. A wave of cannon and musket balls crashed back at the Crescent, shattering its hull and sending many of its crew to a painful death. With his ship sailing to a stop alongside the Valiant, Shadow took cover, then rose and ordered his men to fire at will. His musket team of twenty had moved beside him and were taking aim once more. Shadow grabbed his musket and aimed over the gunwale at an English officer manning the helm. Having spent his entire life shooting, Shadow pulled the trigger and sent the ball into the officer’s chest with expert precision.

  The battle waged on in a loud and violent haze, Shadow watched as handfuls of his men screamed and fell to the deck around him, wailing in pools of blood. His resolve and the resolve of those still alive only strengthened as they continued to pick off sailors aboard the Valiant. But Shadow could see that they were losing. They were outnumbered, outtrained, and outgunned.

  In a seemingly foolish act of desperation, he ordered his men to board the English warship. If they couldn’t defeat their opponents from afar, maybe they could up close and in their faces. The pirate way. Ropes with metal hooks were tossed and pulled taut until the two ships pressed against each other. Shadow gathered what remained of his crew, gave out a barbaric yell, and pressed his right leg up onto the gunwale. With all of his strength, he hurled himself through the air and landed on the deck of the Valiant.

  With his men right on his heels,
Shadow snatched two flintlocks from across his chest, raised them at a cluster of sailors closing in on him, and fired them both. The deck of the Valiant transformed into a brutal symphony of exploding gunpowder, clanking swords, and agonizing screams. As Shadow dropped the flintlocks and grabbed two more, he headed towards the Valiant’s quarterdeck.

  Aiming forward, he took down two more sailors, then dropped his guns and slid both rapiers free from their sheaths. As he and his men stormed up the stairs, heading for the stern, a musket ball grazed Shadow’s side, tearing off a chunk of flesh and sending a burning pain through his body. The pirate captain twisted sideways and grunted but kept moving through the pain up onto the quarterdeck.

  With strong, calculated strikes, Shadow sliced through his opponents in flashes of movement. His adrenaline surged as he cut down his attackers with reckless abandon. But even with the incredible success of his strike on the Valiant, his men were still outnumbered. Glancing over his shoulder at the battle waging on the main deck, Shadow could see that his force of over a hundred pirates had dwindled down to just thirty.

  Shadow shifted his gaze back towards the helm just in time to see the Valiant’s captain, William Gray, move towards him. Though not as big as Shadow, Gray was imposing nonetheless and had fought many successful battles at sea. Holding a silver-hilted sabre that had been passed down for three generations in his right hand, he stabbed it through Blackwood with a strong motion. The blade penetrated to the other side, blood dripping from its tip as Blackwood wailed. Gray pulled the blade free, and Shadow’s first mate fell hard to the deck.

  Shadow gazed into the English captain’s eyes, rage overtaking his face.

  Shadow lunged towards Gray and hit him with a series of strong rapier attacks, slicing his swords through the air with incredible dexterity, only to be deflected at the last second. Equally matched in skill and experience, the two engaged in an epic sword fight at the stern, dueling amongst the sounds of exploding gunpowder and dying men.