"What of Edward? What of the townsfolk?"
"They haven't awakened, but they will soon. As for our captain… Alexandre said that he's going to stay behind and try to convince the townsfolk that he's on their side." Christina picked up Herbert's clothes from his pack tied to his hammock and tossed them to him. "And," she added, taking a breath, "he's going to stay and help with the repairs."
Herbert eyed his sister. Something about the way she said it made him question her sincerity. "He is?"
"Yes, so we don't have to worry if we leave anyway. Edward will stay as a sign of goodwill, and we can pursue Calico Jack. Then, once they're ready, the Fortune can catch up with us. If need be we can leave letters at each port to inform them of where we've gone."
Herbert nodded. He wanted to believe his sister, and that desire made him convince himself that what she said was true.
He moved from his hammock to his wheelchair with a plop, and after he adjusted himself for comfort he wheeled over to the stairs leading up.
Along the way he noticed Tala sleeping on the sole of the deck. She looked at the two of them as they made their way to the stairs, but went back to sleep a moment later. Their dealings didn't excite her at this hour. Herbert felt the complete opposite. He could feel the blood rushing through him, invigorating him in the moment.
At the foot of the stairs there was a rope specifically for him to climb, and he used it to go to the gun deck while his sister carried his wheelchair up for him. They did the same for the next set of stairs, and then they were on the weather deck.
It was still dark out, but the fringe rays of the sun peeking from beyond the horizon added some light to their surroundings. Christina placed her lantern on a notch above the main mast's fife rail. The wind swirling around the ship caused the lantern to sway and creak.
"Which way did Calico Jack go?" Herbert asked.
"South, south west. Possibly to Panama."
Herbert scanned the skies, shifting in his seat and looking out to sea as far as he could. "The wind is in our favour, and the sky is clear."
"All the more reason to leave now."
Herbert noticed that there were quite a few crewmates on deck, more than usual at this hour. They glanced at Herbert and Christina as they talked to each other, clearly waiting for something. Herbert could also tell that the sails were prepared and ready to be released and secured at a moment's notice.
"Someone bring Jack here," Herbert commanded.
One of the crewmates said they would, and descended to the crew cabin to wake Jack up. During that time, Herbert and Christina went up to the quarterdeck. Herbert used a platform attached to a pulley created by Nassir to raise himself up to the helms level rather than having to crawl up the steps. Once there, they waited for Jack to come up.
After a few minutes, Jack appeared on the weather deck. When he noticed the multitude of crewmates already there, he looked confused for a moment. He saw Herbert and Christina and went to join them on the quarterdeck.
"Herbert, has something happened at the mansion? Why is the crew gathered?"
"They are gathered because I… they feel we should be pursuing Calico Jack instead of waiting around."
Jack chuckled, believing it to be in jest, but his smile faded as he glanced at Herbert and his sister. "You're being true with me?" Herbert gave a slight nod, but kept his face expressionless to ensure Jack didn't think this driven by emotion. "Our captain is in danger right now, and you want to leave? He gave orders to stand by in case we're needed." Jack looked to be straining to keep his voice low.
"The captain can handle himself, and if anything goes wrong then the Fortune can help. We know where Calico Jack went, as does Hank, so the captain can join us when he's ready by travelling with them. In the event that we pick up the trail and have to leave another port, we can leave letters for them so they know where we've gone," Christina's words echoed from Herbert's mouth.
Jack's jaw was open and he was speechless. He uttered a few single laughs, then shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. "This is madness," he said. "Not that it amounts to much, since no one here has the authority to make such a decision."
"The crew does," Herbert replied. "Article one of the Commandments, which I shall remind you were created by Edward and Roberts, states that each crewman may vote on current affairs. I would wager that this is considered a current affair, would you not, sir?" Herbert, though sitting, did his best to cast his gaze down upon Jack. "Or shall we put that to a vote as well?"
"Those Commandments were meant for outside of battle," Jack retorted.
Herbert glanced around, then raised his brow. "I don't see a battle happening currently… do you?"
Jack simply stared at Herbert for a moment, still speechless, but this time his good humour was spent. He closed his eyes after a moment, let out a sigh, and knelt down. "Herbert, trust me when I say I know how you're feeling, but this isn't going to help things. It is best if we wait for the captain to be done with his business, and then we leave these shores together. Don't let your anger cloud your mind."
"Tell me then, Jack, if you have such intimate knowledge of how I feel, what would you do in this situation?"
Jack paused for a moment, then his gaze hit the deck. "That should have no—"
"As I recall, there was once a time when you pulled a musket on the man on whom you want revenge," Herbert said.
"I was—"
"You were endangering the crew, because at the time we were surrounded by enemies, and you were provoking them. And then, after that incident, you did what?" Herbert said, his words harsh and biting. "You drowned yourself in bottle after bottle for a year, trying to swallow your sorrows in drink." Jack had no more words, and despite the mournful look on him, Herbert pressed on. "I have looked upon this situation from all angles, and weighed the options. This is the best course of action, and it doesn't affect Edward's situation in the least. Perhaps it is your mind that is clouded."
Herbert wheeled himself forward to the quarterdeck railing, leaving Jack there, still knelt down. After a few seconds, he heard Jack pick himself up off the sole and leave to go below deck. If he was not so caught up in the moment, he might have felt remorse for what he had said to Jack, but he was numb to pity right now.
"Men, right now we have an opportunity to catch the bastard that destroyed Bodden Town. This ship was renamed in the spirit of vengeance upon our enemies, and if we wait any longer we risk losing out on vengeance for you, and for the people of this town," Herbert shouted. "All those in favour of setting sail and finding Calico Jack to put him to death, say aye!"
The crew responded with a resounding "Aye" which echoed from the ship out onto the great wide sea behind Herbert. They looked at Herbert with more respect than they ever had in the past.
"Hop to it, then. I want this ship moving immediately," Herbert commanded.
"You heard the man," Christina added. "Clear the mooring lines, shove us off, and jump those halyards!" she shouted.
The crew shouted another "aye" and went to work. The men ran this way and that, removing the ship's ropes from the pier, pushing it away from the dock with spars, and unfurling the sails.
Christina looked over to Herbert and smiled at him. He smiled back to her, excited at the prospect of finally getting his revenge.
As the Queen Anne's Revenge turned itself around with the wind, Herbert thought he might have heard the sound of gunshots in Bodden Town. With all the noise of the crew and the wind beating the sails, however, he couldn't be sure, and so he paid it no heed.
7. Bodden Town's End
Edward's ship diminished in size as it got farther and farther away from Bodden Town's port, heading south-southeast to God-knows-where. The Fortune, on the other hand, stayed where it was, moored to the pier.
The sounds of angered screams told Edward to focus on the immediate issue at hand. The townsfolk believed that he was the one who'd shot the muskets and became enraged by the death of more of their
people. They had been incensed the other day, but mostly tired and desiring an end to the bloodshed. Now, against an enemy they knew they could defeat, and with fresh wounds, they were rioting outside the gates.
Edward ran out of the room and jumped over the second-floor railing to the main hall. He landed on the hard wooden floor and rolled before jumping to his feet. Just as he expected, he noticed two of the Boddens' men heading towards the secret basement entrance beneath the stairs to the second floor.
Edward drew his cutlass, and the golden blade sang. The two men heard the beautiful tone, and their heads flashed to the side, their eyes wide with fear. Edward took two steps forward, reared back, and threw his blade at the man closest to the basement entrance. The first man was able to jump through the door, but the second man moved into the path. The sword hit him through the chest with such force that it knocked him against the wall and pinned him there.
Edward flew over to the corpse and yanked his sword from it. The other man was running down the winding staircase, his footsteps echoing through the corridor. Edward pursued the man down the steps, jumping down two at a time like the lion that he was. He would have his prey; it was only a matter of time.
He caught up at the bottom of the steps where he leapt at the man with his cutlass poised overhead. He swung it down with both hands at the man's skull, and nearly cleaved him in two with the blow. Blood splattered across Edward's face and clothes, dyeing his hair and beard reddish-black as it dripped from one strand to the next.
The anger of the townspeople was as a child's tantrum compared to Edward's fury. He'd trusted the Boddens, and they had betrayed him. They didn't even have the decency to do the work themselves, and used one of their men to do it for them. Whatever reason they betrayed him for—money, power, or their own version of revenge—they would not live to see it to fruition. Edward would make sure of that.
He went down a hallway into a small square room with man-made cover of stacked wood and sandbags. At the back of the room was an iron vault, the door of which was halfway opened. He peeked around the corner to check for traps, but the vault was empty.
He had first seen the vault when he'd fought the Boddens for control of the town, and when he entered it again he saw a familiar scene. There were lanterns on the walls, loaded cannons on wheels, and stacks of cannonballs and many barrels of gunpowder in the vault, but there was something new: A door leading out the back.
There is an escape route. Those bastards will pay for this!
Edward dashed forward, but stopped after a few steps. The door leading out was open a bit, and he could hear voices from behind it.
"Light it, quickly!"
It was one of the brothers, and they were just on the other side of the door.
An idea struck Edward. He pulled one of the cannons in front of the door, and lit a linstock in one of the lanterns, then opened the door.
Standing there in a long, dark hallway which seemed to go back for miles, were the Bodden brothers, Neil and Malcolm. One of them was doing something on the floor, but Edward's wasn't able to see what it was.
Edward didn't say a word; he allowed the brothers to realise for themselves their fate. After a few seconds they turned around to see the cannon facing them. Edward waited just long enough to see the fear and shock in their faces before he lowered the linstock into the cannon.
The cannonball exploded from the cannon towards the brothers. The angle wasn't quite as straight as Edward would have wanted, and it caused the cannonball to strike only one of the brothers in the chest. The power of the blow knocked the brother back as it crushed in his ribs and killed him instantly. The ball then missed the other brother and flew off down the corridor.
The second brother had covered his face and ducked down during the blast. He glanced around in his crouched position when it was over. When he noticed the dead body of his brother beside him, he called out to him, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Edward stalked forward, ready to finish the job, until he noticed what the Boddens had been doing before he interrupted. There was a large set of gunpowder kegs with fuses bunched together, and the fuse was lit.
Edward jumped backwards, slammed the door shut, rolled to the side, and covered his head with his hands. A few seconds passed before the gunpowder ignited and exploded. The door blasted off its hinges and into oblivion, and sent chips of wood flying everywhere. The explosion shook the entire home, as far as he could tell, and it didn't end immediately. The shaking and rumbling noise lingered for a few moments past what Edward would have thought was normal.
When the shaking subsided, Edward removed his hands from his head and examined his surroundings. Dirt swirled and flowed into the vault from the Boddens' escape route. He stepped over to the opening, and looked at the hallway. He waved his hand to try to disperse the fragments of earth in the air, and after a few seconds it settled and he was able to see the corridor.
The corridor was no longer a corridor; the earth above and below had been blasted away, causing a cave-in. Mounds of dirt and rock blocked the escape route, and Edward could not see how far the rubble extended. On the ground and the sides of the walls he noticed great splashes of blood, and the remains of unrecognizable body parts. The corridor had become the final resting place of the Bodden brothers, and the end of their era.
Footsteps came from behind Edward and several people entered the vault. He turned around to see Anne, Roberts, Nassir, and Pukuh there. Anne had a sword drawn, and she raced to his side and clutched his arm.
"Edward, are you unharmed? What happened?"
Edward took a few quick breaths. "I'm well. I caught the Boddens as they were making their escape. They had planned to explode this tunnel, and they succeeded, but not before I stalled them enough to have them caught in the explosion as well."
"You are certain they are dead?" Roberts asked.
Edward nodded. "I am certain. Their blood stains the walls of this place now, and this will be their grave."
"Now we have no escape, and the people are soon to breach the walls. Will we fight?" Pukuh asked, holding his spear at his side.
"We will never win if we fight. They have the numbers, while we have an injured man to worry about, and we have no way to signal our…" Edward paused for a second, looking away. He shook his head and looked at Roberts. "Your crew," he finished. "We have no way to signal your crew to help us."
"Then what will we do if we cannot fight?" Nassir asked, concern written on his face.
Edward glanced around the room, thinking on their options. "I only see one way out of this, and it will be dangerous."
"I doubt there is an option that wouldn't be," Anne said.
"Point taken," Edward replied. "Anne, I want you to take some of the men to remove the furniture from the back door. Nassir, you and another mate bring William down to the main floor and be ready to leave." Anne and Nassir nodded and ran out of the vault together. "Roberts, help me remove this cannon from its mount."
Edward and Roberts went on either end of the six-pounder and gripped it as best they could. "One, two, three," Edward said.
He and Roberts lifted the cannon off the mount. The cannon was easily over three hundred pounds, but the two were able to manage. They gently dropped the cannon to the floor, and it rolled off to the side of the room.
"Now we need to take the mount upstairs. While Roberts and I handle this, Pukuh, I need you to take some of these gunpowder barrels upstairs as well. Make sure to bring some of the fuse wire as well."
Roberts laughed deep from his gut. "Edward, you can bring some barrels yourself. This is nothing for me," Roberts said as he slapped Edward on the shoulder.
Roberts, a giant even by Edward's standards, bent down and grabbed hold of the cannon's mount. He then lifted with his legs, and brought the wooden apparatus over his shoulder and above his head in a monstrous feat of strength.
Edward gazed in wonder at the teetering mass of wood which must have weighed over one hundred pounds, po
ssibly even two. "Are you sure you're fit to carry that?"
"It's just a tad awkward, is all, but I will manage. I once had to carry Hank through the jungle for three days as we were chased by—" Roberts paused mid-sentence, his mouth open, but he closed it and waved his hand. "Perhaps this is a story for another time," Roberts said before he slowly moved from the vault to the other part of the basement.
Edward shook his head at the sight, and at Roberts' carefree attitude despite all that had happened. He didn't know how Roberts managed to keep so positive in the face of imminent death. Perhaps some of it comes from his Welsh accent. It nearly sounds as if he'll start singing with each sentence.
Edward helped Pukuh place one of the gunpowder barrels over his shoulder, and then took one for himself after storing some fuses in his trouser pocket. They left the vault and walked up to the main floor while staying mindful of their cargo. Once on the main floor, they placed the barrels near the door leading outside.
Edward could hear the townsfolk outside, still rioting and presumably acquiring the tools to scale the wall. They were lucky that it seemed none had the foresight to bring any equipment back in the morning. If it hadn't been for those fools the Boddens, I could have convinced them to lay down their arms.
Edward rushed back towards the basement. "Come, we need at least two more," he said.
Edward and Pukuh went back down the spiral staircase. They met with Roberts halfway down, still carrying the cannon mount. They were cautious as they bent down and walked underneath the wood and metal device.
Once it was safe, they rushed to procure another barrel of gunpowder each. By the time they were back upstairs, Roberts was in the main hall, bending down to drop the mount.
Nassir and another crewmate were also there, with William strapped into a stretcher between them. "What do you want us to do, Edward?"
"Stay here, we're going to leave soon. Be ready to move."
Nassir nodded, his strong arms taut and ready for work. He would have no trouble carrying his end of the stretcher.
Blackbeard's Justice (The Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 3) Page 8
