Scarlett

by Christopher C Tubbs

“Yield!” she said in a husky voice. He looked into those beautiful green eyes and said,

  “I am yours,”

  “Don’t be impertinent,” she told him as she stepped back keeping her sword pointed at his throat.

  Chapter 3: Double jeopardy

  Back at their home, the twins gave their father a run down on the voyage and Ray started to estimate what they would get for selling the lugger.

  “So, why would you want to do that?” Smoker asked, not looking up from filling his pipe.

  “Well, we’re in business to make money and I thought…” Ray started to say but Smoker held up his hand.

  “Could we buy a fully fitted out lugger for the money you could sell her for?”

  “Well no, but…”

  “What limits the number of prizes you can bring back?”

  “The number of crew. Oh!”

  “Took you long enough,” Scarlett teased him.

  “Yeah, you had it figured out all long,” Ray scoffed.

  “You take the Harlequin and leave Scarlett to the Merlin. Before you go out again, we will have both of them fully manned.”

  “You named her already?”

  “Why? You have a better one?”

  “You could call her Jenny after that girl you’re chasing,” Scarlett laughed, causing Ray to blush.

  “I am going to the pub to get a beer,” Ray stated, knowing when to make a tactical retreat.

  Scarlett sat on the dock looking out at their two ships; the Merlin with her big main mast, small mizzen, long bowsprit, sixteen guns, and one hundred crew, and the Harlequin with her two more evenly sized masts, gaff rigged, fourteen guns, and seventy-five crew.

  She thought about the Frenchman, the captain of the Lugger when they captured it, and how he looked at her with no malice for capturing his ship and besting him in combat, but in admiration. When they put him ashore, he called to her that he would see her again.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Angela, the daughter of the landlord of the Full Firkin and her friend since they were both toddlers, asked Scarlett as she wandered up behind her. Angela married the oldest son of the local blacksmith a couple of months before and was about three months pregnant.

  “Just thinking about when we took the lugger,” Scarlett answered, blushing.

  Angela, who knew her friend better than anyone caught the blush, sat beside her, and scooted up really close.

  “Ooh, come on, tell me,” she urged her friend.

  “Tell you what?” Scarlett responded with a toss of her hair.

  “You can’t hide anything from me, Scarlett Browning. There was a man, wasn’t there?”

  Scarlett sighed. Angela was right, there was no way she could hide anything from her and told her of the fight and the French captain.

  “Was he handsome?” Angela asked, dreamy eyed at the romance of it.

  “He had very dark eyes and yes, he was handsome.”

  “Did he have a good body?” Angela giggled.

  “It was kind of firm when we were pressed together,” Scarlett confessed, “but I don’t think I will ever see him again.”

  “He had a ..?” Angela gasped.

  “What? No! He was muscular is all I meant!” Scarlett laughed.

  “Ahh, love’s labour’s lost!” Ray teased from behind them.

  Scarlett groaned. She wouldn’t hear the end of this from her brother.

  The two ships set sail to do some ‘serious privateering’ as Ray put it. They would head down to Brest and try their luck down there. The best thing about this arrangement, in Scarlett’s opinion, was that Ray couldn’t tease her. He had become very annoying, mentioning her French ‘lover’ at every opportunity.

  The Quin, as they came to call the Harlequin, was making all sail and trying to edge ahead. Scarlett urged her men to stay with them as her Merlin was at least as fast as her brother’s ship. They were both heeled over, heading almost due South, showing a good amount of their lower hull as she took up the chase

  The weather was typical for late spring and couldn’t settle on being fine or stormy. The lookouts were keeping an eye out for squalls as much as other ships, but for now the sun shone and the wind blew steadily from the Northwest.

  “Fourteen knots and a fathom,” reported Jim Barrowclough, her bosun, as he walked back from the bow where he supervised the running of the log. Daniel Brown, the master, looked pleased.

  “That’s the best we have got out of her. Not much will outreach us now.”

  Scarlett looked along the deck. All the men not trimming sails were sitting along the windward side to counter the thrust from the sails. Then she looked at the Quin, they were staying with her and that was good enough for now.

  “Where are we?” she asked Daniel, who checked the log then measured off on the chart.

  “Just coming up on Dunkirk. We will enter the channel soon.”

  Scarlett looked to the Quin and was about to signal her brother when she saw their crew start to slacken her sails to reduce speed.

  “Reduce sail to keep us level with the Quin and swing us out to four miles to the West, Steven,” she ordered her first mate. It was time to start the hunt and this would allow them to cover much more sea than if they stayed together.

  The two ships slowed to ten knots and came up on a more even keel, which was more comfortable for the lookouts and let them see further.

  They spotted a couple of ships to the West but guessed they must be English so ignored them. They were heading Southwest through the English Channel and passing Calais.

  “The Quin is signalling,” Steven said and climbed up the mainmast ratlines to get a better view. He came down and said,

  “A red flag, over blue, over red and white, over blue and white.”

  “He’s spotted a merchant ship, asks us to close up and he is attacking,” Scarlett translated. They’d worked out a simple flag signal system:

  RedShip sighted

  Red and whiteClose up

  BlueMerchant

  Blue and whiteAttacking

  YellowWarship

  WhiteAbort

  GreenCarry on

  Green and whiteMore than one

  It was enough to communicate the essentials and could be expanded in time.

  “Never seen anything like it,” huffed Daniel, who was archly conservative and hated anything new.

  “Oh, come now, you old grouch,” Scarlett rebuffed him gently, “the Navy has used signal flags for years.”

  “But not us,” he replied stubbornly, referring to merchant sailors.

  “Well, we fall somewhere in between, don’t we?” Steven chipped in.

  “That we do,” Scarlett said to close the conversation. They had business to attend to. “Two points to larboard, Jim. Let’s close up and see what all the fuss is about.”

  As they converged on the Quin, their lookouts picked out the target ship and identified it as a fluyt, so probably Dutch. She was large, carried a big cargo, was lightly armed and crewed. She was no match for the Quin or Merlin for speed and they soon caught her, the Quin moving up on her Starboard side while Scarlett moved the Merlin around her stern and took up position on her larboard side.

  They dropped their sails and struck without a shot being fired. She was laden with a cargo of Gin, cheese, leather, cloth, and sundries. There was too much for them to offload, so they decided to take it, ship and all. They put the crew in their boats and sent them off towards the French coast, put a prize crew onboard, and set off again.

  Having the Zeehond, as their prize was called, tagging along slowed them up, so Scarlett left Ray to escort it while she ranged ahead.

  They reached as far as Boulogne before they spotted another potential target and the Merlin leapt into action with a will. She was a Spanish Urca; two masted, lateen rigged, and a terrible sailor, but cheap to build and run. She was struggling along the coast trying to head North.

  A single shot across her bows got her to strike and as before, a prize crew
replaced the Spanish crew, which was sent to shore in one of their boats. The cargo was olive oil and wine, timber and nails.

  “You should escort both and give me your extra men,” Ray told her as they took the time for a quick conference.

  “Oh? And why should you get to do the hunting. The Merlin carries more guns and is just as fast,” Scarlett bristled.

  “Because...” Ray started to say but was interrupted by a hail from the lookout.

  “SAIL HO!”

  “Where away?” Roger Clark, his first mate, called back.

  “To the Southeast. Square rigged; probably a Caravel.”

  “Southeast?” Scarlett frowned, “from Le Havre most like. Could be French Navy?”

  She ran to the side and started down to her boat.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Ray. If it is Navy, we take it together or run away,” she shouted in parting.

  She shouted orders to the two prizes to head for home and boarded the Merlin.

  “Get her underway, Steven, then get the men to stations!” she shouted to her first mate.

  “Sail to the Southeast is flying the French Imperial flag,” the lookout shouted down.

  “Navy then,” she muttered to herself as she watched the Quin get under sail.

  A blue and white flag appeared on the Quin’s main.

  “Oh shite, the silly bugger is going to attack,” she said to herself knowing that Ray was only trying to prove he should be the one out hunting.

  “Get us a cable behind them and half a cable to their Larboard,” she ordered.

  As they closed, they saw it was indeed a caravel, a big one, and would probably be carrying thirty guns. A huge white Flag with the blue shield with three fleurs de lis surmounted by a golden crown and golden streamers flew proudly from her main mast.

  “We should run from this. Hoist the abort signal,” Scarlett told her bosun.

  The flag flew up the mast, but the Quin only answered with the flags for attack and close up.

  “He’s committing us. We have no choice but to support him and he knows it.”

  She looked forward and could see Ray at the stern rail of the Quin beckoning to her. She ran to the bow. He waved his arms in a mime. He would take the Caravel down the right and she was to take the Merlin to the left. They would serve it broadsides from both sides. Once they passed, they would turn in a scissors move to make the same heading as the Caravel and get it in between them. Fire two broadsides then board.

  ‘NO!’ she mimed back, ‘we run.’

  Ray just laughed and turned away.

  It was too late to do anything other than follow his lead.

  “Get the starboard guns loaded with ball. We will take her down the starboard side,” she ordered the gunners as she made her way back to the quarterdeck with a feeling of impending doom.

  Scarlett looked back at the prizes, which were heading North and home. At least they would be able to tell her father what happened. She shook herself. It would be scant minutes now before they would engage the French ship and she needed to concentrate.

  “Reduce sail. Clew up the main,” she ordered to get their canvas out of the way of the guns.

  “Guns ready!” Steven called as their bow passed the Frenchman’s. “FIRE!” The guns roared, and the Caravel’s side lit up as she replied. They were soon past, and the gunners were busy reloading as she ordered Steven to wear to starboard. The caravel’s broadside damaged some of their rigging and their topsails had a couple of new holes.

  The Quin came around their larboard side. Ray stood on the quarterdeck and waved to her with a big grin. She made a rude sign at him and concentrated on fighting her ship. They came onto the caravel’s course and as they caught it up, she saw it was called, ‘Triomphe.’

  She stuck to what Ron signed to her and adjusted their speed to match that of the Quin so they would arrive abeam of the Triomphe at the same time.

  “Broadside ready!” Steven called.

  “Now!” Scarlett barked as they got alongside.

  Again, both ships fired their broadsides at the same time. The Merlin’s aimed at the side, and the Caravel’s aimed at the rigging.

  “We need to put nets up if we are going to do this very often!” Steven shouted to her as a rope and blocks fell to the deck.

  “Get those guns loaded and get ready to board!” Scarlett shouted back. “Start closing the gap, Jim,” she told Jim White, who was on the wheel.

  “Get ready to grapnel as soon as we fire!”

  The second broadside fired just on two minutes after the first, and the two ships came together rapidly after that. The hulls groaned as they ground together, and the grapnels were thrown across. Then they were away, scrambling up and over the side screaming, slashing, and stabbing anyone in their way.

  Scarlett was at the head of a group of five men including Steven, Jim, and Daniel. They concentrated on working their way towards the quarterdeck but were facing stiff resistance and weren’t making any progress. Scarlett killed a sailor who came at her with a pike and found herself face to face with a soldier in a breastplate and metal helmet who was armed with a broadsword.

  She slashed at his face which, he parried almost casually as he advanced. He slashed with his sword, forcing her to jump back. She came up against something hard and immovable at her back and realised she couldn’t retreat any further. The soldier grinned. He was missing several teeth and had a broken nose, she noticed. He raised his sword for a big overhand chop.

  She saw her chance.

  As he swung his sword up, he exposed his armpit above the breastplate. She threw herself into him and her dagger found the gap. His eyes widened in surprise and he fell forward onto her, pushing her to the deck.

  She was stuck, he was too heavy to move and she was trying to wriggle free when the body was rolled off of her and a hand appeared to help her up.

  “Thanks, Jim. I thought I was stuck there until the end of the fight,” she said to the grinning quartermaster.

  She looked around and saw that the Quin’s had finally boarded. The two crews had the French pinned between them. The press from both sides was too much for the French sailors and soldiers. Weapons were thrown to the deck in surrender.

  “Where’s Ray?” she asked once they had control.

  “Last I saw, he was fighting an officer over towards the wheel,” Jim replied.

  Scarlett picked up her weapons from where she dropped them and led Jim to the quarterdeck. There were several bodies lying splayed on the timbers, one identifiable as the captain, who still had a pistol in his hand. She looked around for Ray and almost missed seeing him slumped against the stern rail.

  “RAY!” she screamed and ran to him, dropping to her knees beside him.

  “Hello Scarlett,” he said as he lifted his face to her.

  “Oh my God!” she mouthed as she saw his face. There was a dark burn across his eyes and the bridge of his nose was missing. He had blood all over the lower half of his face.

  “What happened?” she managed to say as she took him in her arms

  “That bastard of a captain didn’t play fair. He yielded and when I stepped in to take his sword, he pulled a pistol on me. I managed to skewer him, but he fired it at my head from no distance at all. I heard the flint strike and pulled my head back, but the ball caught my nose and the muzzle flash got my eyes.”

  He winced as he pulled himself to his feet using Scarlett and the rail as leverage.

  “Can’t see a bloody thing. Have we taken her?”

  Scarlett looked around the deck. The French had surrendered, but her fury erupted as she peered at her brother’s ruined face. She screamed a primeval expression of grief and anger. Then, like a collapsing star, the white heat rushed back into her and formed a white-hot, fiery ball in her chest. She handed Ray to Jim, and stepping away from him, she drew her sword and dagger before turning to the main deck.

  There were officers amongst the French captives, and she ordered her men to bring t
hem forward to stand in a line in front of her. She looked the first one in the eyes, and he glared arrogantly back. She slashed with her sword, and blood spurted from his neck. He fell to the deck, dead.

  Her men gasped at this casual murder, but she ignored them and stepped up to the second officer, looking him in the eyes,

  “Do you have honour?” she asked. He looked confused.

  “Avez vous l’honour?” Steven said from behind her.

  “Mais Oui,” the officer replied, looking offended.

  Scarlett walked around him and noticed a bulge under the back of his coat. She sheathed her sword and lifted the man’s coat tail with her dagger. He had a knife concealed in the back of his trousers, which she drew. It had a six-inch blade and a clipped point, ideal for stabbing.

  He fell to the deck, his own knife in his back.

  “Honour be fucked,” she swore at his twitching corpse.

  She stepped in front of the last three men and said,

  “Your twisted sense of honour isn’t worth shit.”

  Steven struggled to translate that but managed to get it across to the now terrified men.

  “Throw them over the side. They sicken me,” she ordered. When nobody moved, she screamed, “THROW THEM OVER THE SIDE OR GOD HELP ME, I WILL…”

  She didn’t have to finish. Several men stepped forward and dragged the doomed men to the side and pushed them over. She listened to their screaming until it stopped.

  She turned to Steven. “Let’s go home. Take the crew from the Quin to man this ship. It’s cost us too much not to keep.”

  Steven looked along the deck.

  “What about them?” he said, meaning the prisoners.

  “Give them the choice- join us or go back to France on the Quin. Take all the guns off her and hoist them aboard along with anything of value and all the food and alcohol. Leave them only water.”

  There were a few non-French crew who stepped forward to join with Scarlett. Most of whom had grudges against the officers Steven suspected. He was still in shock at the cold-blooded way Scarlett doled out revenge for the blinding of her brother and he had a nasty suspicion that she wasn’t finished yet.