Blackbeard's Justice (The Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 3)

by Jeremy McLean

  "Aye, and he's paid the price. You've doled out your punishment, and he accepted it with grace." Edward looked away from Roberts' gaze for a moment. "None are telling you to discard your anger—though that is sound advice—but I simply believe you would do well not to punish Mr Blackwood over and over."

  Edward furrowed his brows in anger. "You presume too much, and reach too far, if you would think to tell me how to run my ship, Roberts."

  Roberts didn't back down, and instead straightened his back and puffed out his massive chest to intensify his countenance. "You may soon find yourself losing your ship if you continue the way you're going."

  "Are you with me, Roberts? Because from your cavalier tone it sounds like you aren't."

  "Being your ally and agreeing with your every action are not one and the same," Roberts said. After a moment, the man took a step back and shook his head. "I do not wish for the same thing as happened to your former first mate, Henry, to happen to Herbert."

  Thoughts of his departed best friend bombarded Edward. The sight of Henry falling to his knees with a gunshot at his back, and the smoking pistol in Edward's shaking hand took hold of him. He looked down to his hands now, holding a cutlass instead of a pistol.

  Roberts didn't know about Edward's sin; he only knew that Henry decided to leave the crew, not what happened afterwards. Despite that, Edward's frustration and anger intensified.

  Edward tightened his grip on his cutlass. "This conversation is over," he said. "Concern yourself with your crew, and leave mine out of it."

  Roberts' mouth opened to say something, but Edward turned around and walked away. He went through the forest with leaden feet and a heavy heart. He couldn't tell if Roberts followed after him, and at that moment he didn't care.

  What does it matter anyway? Edward thought as he hacked and slashed his way through the bush. Either they're with me or against me. Why should I spare a second thought for my enemies?

  With no foil to Edward's thoughts, his self-rationalization continued unimpeded. He lost all awareness of his surroundings as he cut branch after branch, vine after vine, and bush after bush. He walked long enough that he forgot where he was going, but kept walking forward and cutting down everything in his path nonetheless.

  When Edward noticed a lack of roots beneath his feet and obstructions in front of him, he finally looked up and took note of his surroundings. He had stumbled upon a wide field of grass surrounded by the forest. Somehow an acre of field was devoid of trees, and the local wildlife must have fed on the grass to keep it short.

  Edward's chest heaved with each breath he took; the exertion of slashing his way to the field had taken its toll on him. His arm was tired, and sweat covered his face ear to ear.

  As he gazed upon the empty field and rested, it was as if the forest had gone silent. He could hear nothing but the rustle of the leaves and grass swaying in the wind.

  Edward sheathed his cutlass and searched for the tallest tree he could see. Once he found a suitable one, he climbed up its branches. He took care as he moved from one branch to the next, his feet and hands keeping him steady as he moved up to the peak. As he climbed, the branches became thinner and thinner, and the canopy over the forest receded before his eyes.

  Just before reaching the top of the tree, he stopped and stood on the thinnest branch that could still hold his weight. He held onto the trunk and gazed around the forest from his new vantage point.

  He was so high up now, he was able to see the ocean to his left, but he could only see a sea of trees on his right. He scanned the horizon out over the ocean until he found what he was looking for: the Queen Anne's Revenge.

  He wasn't able to see the whole ship, but he could see the tip of the middle mast poking out from the forest canopy. While he wasn't able to see Porto Bello, judging by the location of the ocean in relation to the trees and the ship he could guess where it was. He had travelled far, and he was only ten or twenty minutes' walk to the town at most.

  Edward looked below, and began climbing back down the tree. After a few minutes of careful descent, he noticed some of the other crewmates entering the clearing.

  "Oi!" he yelled.

  The crewmates followed the sound of his voice, and once they noticed him they grouped together at the base of the tree. By the time Edward had reached the bottom branches, they had all entered the field.

  Edward jumped down to the ground and rolled before standing up and facing the men. "This is where we will have our meeting with the Spanish," he stated. "I want two of you to scout a path to Porto Bello; try to make it short but easy to walk. The rest of you, come with me. We're going to get this set up properly. We wouldn't want to disappoint our new allies," he added with a smirk.

  …

  Edward sat at a table under a fabric canopy in the middle of the clearing they had found the day before. Anne, Roberts, and William accompanied him at the table, and an assortment of men from both crews were scattered around the forest. Pukuh and Hank were leading the defence, and each of them kept a close watch on the proceedings.

  Edward got up from his seat, reached over to take a piece of cheese from a plate in the centre, and threw it into his mouth. He barely even had to chew as it had been softened by the heat of the day.

  "If you eat any more, there won't be any left for our guests," Anne warned.

  Edward shrugged his shoulders. "All this waiting is taking its toll on my insides."

  Anne gave him another look, and he promised her he wouldn't eat another piece.

  The air around the table and in the field was hot and oppressive. It was nearing noon, and it was the most torrid it had been since they'd arrived in Porto Bello. The tension wasn't aiding the stifling heat either, as each man was on alert and ready to fire their weapons at a moment's notice. That alertness and nervous energy keeping them on edge was like a sickness that invaded their neighbours, and soon all the men were sweating and jumping at shadows.

  The lot of them had already been waiting for three hours, and only ten minutes ago Pukuh had informed them that the guests were on their way. The captain of the Spanish galleon would arrive any minute, but they were later than they had all expected.

  "Is everyone clear on our story?" William asked.

  Edward grunted and leaned back in his chair. "I believe so, as we recounted it not twenty minutes ago." William stared at him, his cold gaze saying all it needed to say. "I am a merchant by the name of Edward Teach, as is Roberts, who will go by the name of… Benjamin Kinney. We heard about the proposed attack and wish to lend our aid, as it involves pirates who wronged us in the past."

  "And the terms?" William pressed.

  "The terms…" Edward said, pausing for a moment. "We assist in the attack by ambushing the pirates, and take the fight to their deck while the galleon focusses on the biggest ship. When the battle is concluded, we take the pirates' cargo as payment."

  William nodded. "Good," he said.

  "I can't fathom why it matters when Anne will be translating," Edward said, gesturing to his wife.

  Anne frowned. "We don't know if the captain speaks English as well, or if he has someone who can translate as well. We would do well to not say something regrettable."

  The sound of branches crunching underfoot and the heavy rustling of leaves brought everyone's attention to the forest edge. The sounds grew louder, and before long a group of ten armed men broke through the forest and entered the small plain.

  Two of the men stood in front of the others, taking in the surroundings and the people whom they were meeting. The other eight had a tight grip on their weapons, and also took in their surroundings, but in a more focussed and defensive way.

  One of the two men in front wore a traditional Spanish naval uniform of gold colour with ornate decorative accents and a dozen wooden toggle buttons fastened at the centre. The man had several distinguishing medals on the breast of his uniform.

  The other man wore a cloak covering his entire body, with a hood obscuring his fac
e. Edward wasn't able to see inside the cloak, but from the two men's mannerisms, he could tell that it was a person of importance, even when compared to the Spanish captain.

  Edward and the others rose from their seats and tried not to stare at their guests. He pulled at his coat and tried to straighten the creases that always seemed to form between his gut and his chest.

  After a moment, the cloaked man whispered a few things to the captain, and the two approached the table.

  "Thank you for joining us here, gentlemen," Edward said.

  Anne translated the message, taking her time to ensure she said what she meant to say. Before she could finish, the captain held up his hand.

  "I know your tongue. There is no need to strain yourself," he said.

  "Ah, good. I daresay we were a bit worried over that," Edward said, and then he smiled and nodded to Anne.

  "Then you may send the girl away now. I want no further delay—"

  Edward held up his hand. "The girl is my wife and my quartermaster," he said, clenching his teeth afterwards to stop himself from saying something else.

  The captain's eyes widened, and he and the other man stared at Anne. "A woman quartermaster?" The captain shook his head. "No matter. She can stay," he said. "Who are you, and how did you come to find out about this supposed attack on my vessel?"

  Edward took a few seconds to breathe, and then began. "I am Edward Teach, and this is my associate, Benjamin Kinney. We are merchants who deal in this area, and we heard a rumour of the upcoming attack on your ship… Normally, we wouldn't act on such rumours, but we've had confrontations with the pirates in question, and wish to aid you."

  The captain held a stern look on his face as he looked in the eyes of each person at the table, save Anne. The men behind him had their hands on their weapons, wary of the men surrounding them. The tension from before they arrived was only magnified by the arrival of the Spaniards.

  Edward tried to mitigate the tension by continuing the conversation. "We have given you our names; it would be good to know how we should address you and your… companion."

  "Hmph," the captain scoffed. "I am Miguel García, captain of the…" The man paused for a moment, glancing at those at the table, then shook his head. "I would tell you, but you would not understand the name, nor be able to repeat it," he said. "My companion does not need to give you his name." He seemed to hold much contempt for Edward and company, and Edward could not see why. "Where will the attack happen, how many ships, and of what size?"

  "Our contact says it will happen off the coast of Providencia, and they have three ships of frigate class or lower."

  "And your ships?"

  "We have a frigate and a sloop-of-war. Over sixty guns between us."

  Miguel nodded. "And why are they not in the harbour? Why choose to meet out here, and not in town?"

  Edward breathed again. The tension was wearing on him, and he was sweating. It was lucky the day was hot, otherwise the sweat could be seen as a sign of duplicity. "They are not in harbour for the same reason we meet here: We don't know who we can trust."

  The cloaked man leaned over to Miguel and whispered something in his ear. After a moment Miguel asked, "And what would you have in return for your protection?"

  Edward nodded. "We wish to have the cargo the pirates have. A simple request, I should think, given the circumstances."

  Miguel nodded. "Yes, that does seem reasonable," he said. "But tell me, how am I to trust a liar?"

  Edward was taken aback, but he was speechless for but a moment. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

  Miguel smirked. "We talked with the governor of Porto Bello after receiving your letter. The governor knew of your ship's names, but not their owners. You are pirates."

  At the mention of the word, Edward and those spectating placed their hands on their weapons. Muscles were taut, ready to spring at the slightest movement. Eyes darted from one person to the next, waiting and watching for a surprise.

  Edward's brows were furrowed, and he stared straight at Miguel. "That is quite the accusation you lay upon one who is trying to help you."

  "I accuse you of the truth. Or do you wish to wait until the morrow when I see your ship's names first-hand? I know one of you is Bartholomew Roberts, captain of the Fortune. The other ship, Queen Anne's Revenge, I'm unfamiliar with, though I doubt a merchant would be working with pirates."

  Edward glanced at Roberts and the others, and Roberts and Anne both nodded to him. "If you think us pirates, why come to meet us? Why did you not attack our messenger to draw us out and put us to the sword?"

  "Bartholomew Roberts, though a pirate, stole from the traitorous Portugal. I felt we owed him a meeting at the very least."

  Edward nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. "I believe re-introductions are in order. I am Edward Thatch, captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge and this," Edward said, motioning to Roberts, "is Bartholomew Roberts, captain of the Fortune."

  "Edward Thatch?" Miguel questioned. "Where have I heard this name?"

  Edward shook his head. "My ship was formerly called Freedom, if that aids your memory."

  Miguel muttered the two names under his breath a few times until his eyes shot open and he looked at Edward in a new light. "You killed the queen's daughter!" he nearly shouted.

  For the second time, Edward's jaw dropped. He glanced over to Anne, the living, breathing daughter of Queen Anne, sitting to his right. "I believe you are mistaken, sir. The reports stated that the pirates involved were unknown," Edward said, referencing a newspaper they had come upon over six months before.

  The paper said that Edward's Anne had been killed, as a symbolic way of disowning her after her repeated acts of delinquency. The last they had heard, the pirates in the false scandal were never named. News from the Old World was always rather scarce in the New, and unless it pertained to local events they rarely paid attention. Either that, or the Boddens never thought to mention it.

  Did the Boddens know about Anne? I can't recall, Edward thought.

  "That was revised months ago," Miguel said with a wide grin. "Come, come, no need to be shy of your exploits. You are both friends to Spain."

  Edward glanced at his wife, and her gaze was stony as she stared in the direction of Miguel, but not directly at him. The subject was a sore spot with her; despite holding no love for her mother, the implication that one is dead to them does not inspire familial affection.

  "I do not wish to brag, lest my ego grow too large. Let us discuss the attack," Edward said, trying to steer the conversation back. "I apologise for the ruse. We couldn't be sure of your trust in us. Pirates seem to have frequented this area."

  Miguel waved his hand, then rose from his seat to take some of the cheese and meat off the plate on the table. "You haven't attacked any of Spain's ships or shores, so you have no reason to fear, my friends." Miguel took bites from the cheese. "Though, if you are not trying to deceive us, what do you stand to gain from attacking other pirates? Why not join them and attack us? If we had not of heard of this attack, I cannot say if we would have survived. If your two ships had joined the other pirates, it would have been assured."

  Edward, too, took some of the food off the table and mimicked the Spanish captain. "The pirates involved in the attack wronged Roberts and myself. They stole his ship, and killed one of my crewmates. Another of my crewmates may still be in hiding with them as well, but the story of why is, frankly, too long and involved for today," he said.

  Miguel shook his head. "Such treachery should not go unpunished. Why do you need our help with this?"

  "We felt that if we could gain the help of a Spanish galleon, it would all but guarantee our success."

  Miguel smirked and pointed at Edward. "Ah!" he said. "So, you plan to use me, do you?"

  Edward chuckled. "Somewhat," he replied. "Consider this a partnership. One where we both benefit."

  Miguel nodded. "I believe we can come to an agreement," he said. "We can work out the details on the way t
o Providencia. For now, let us say that we will sail together at dawn."

  Miguel rose from his seat, and the cloaked man did the same. The Spaniard reached forward to shake Edward's hand, and with that their arrangement was sealed.

  "On the morrow," Edward said.

  After the handshake, Miguel and the rest of the Spaniards left to finish their trades for the day and prepare to sail. The cloaked man and Miguel whispered back and forth as they left.

  When they were well and gone, the crews hooted and hollered their cheers. The tension that had permeated the area washed away, and a happy mood spread to each of them instead. Many of the men slapped Edward on the back, congratulating him and commenting on how well he did in the negotiations, despite the fact that everything went wrong. The fears of their covers being seen through and most of the negotiations hinging on their reputations were lost with the deal being struck.

  After a few moments of revelry, Edward hushed them. "Back to the ship!" he ordered. "Tomorrow, we set sail."

  15. Turnabout

  Edward pulled in a deep breath as a yawn overtook him. The sun had yet to arise from the threshold of the horizon, and he had already been up for an hour to help prepare the ship. His jaw opened wide, cracking in the pre-dawn light. Other crewmates, a few of whom had been up even longer to secure the anchor, caught his yawn.

  Before long, the crew secured the anchor, and they were ready to depart. Herbert was at the helm with Christina, the two of them working out their route. Anne was nearby issuing orders to the crew to get the Queen Anne's Revenge seaworthy. William was watching from the starboard railing, ordered by Anne not to work, given that he was still recovering. Pukuh, not just a warrior, was helping the crew with the sails, and despite his missing arm he was proving to be a match even for the seasoned sailors. Meanwhile, Jack was playing an instrument on the bow for all to hear to boost morale, and Nassir was there, talking with him.

  To Edward's left, the Fortune bobbed up and down with the waves. He could see Roberts near the helm, and Hank, his first mate, shouting at the crew to get moving. They were slightly ahead of the Queen Anne's Revenge, and nearly ready to sail.