Anne walked over to Edward. "We can loose the sails on your order, husband."
"Let's let Roberts go on ahead. They'll need to match speed with the galleon moreso than we. We can give them the time they need and then do the same."
Anne nodded. "I am overwhelmed with disbelief over this situation. It's unthinkable that we were able to convince Captain García to side with us."
"Yes, it was surprising. I had expected more resistance, but according to him it's as if we're heroes to Spain."
"From pirate to patriot, it all depends on the country you're backing," Anne said. "Now we have an even number of ships, and possibly a greater number of guns in our arsenal. Any plans for the battle?"
Edward smirked. "I thought that was between my quartermaster and the helmsman?" he said.
Anne grinned. "Oh, but a captain should be intimately involved in all affairs aboard his ship. I wouldn't want to intrude."
"With your new responsibilities, I thought it might be best if the crew became accustomed to taking orders from you, so I'll let you take over for the battle this time."
Anne put up her hand. "No, no, I insist. It is a captain's duty to direct his crew in battle."
Edward couldn't help but chuckle with his wife. There had been precious few exchanges of that nature between them of late, and it warmed his heart.
He could only imagine how she were feeling at the present. He was so focussed on his own personal vengeance, he never stopped to think about how she might feel about the man who'd tortured her love and left him for dead. For a brief time, she'd even thought Edward dead, and the thought of how she had to have felt then sickened him. He never again wanted to see her face like the moment before she realised he was alive.
Edward grew serious, and pulled his wife into an embrace. "It will be over soon," he said softly.
After a few seconds, she pulled away from him and arched her eyebrow. "I know."
Edward leaned in and kissed Anne on the forehead, and she smiled. She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek in return.
"You know it's been four months now?" she asked.
Edward glanced away in thought, and scrunched his nose. "Four months… twelve days," he replied.
Anne's eyes widened, twinkling with amusement. "Oh, twelve days, is it? I believe I've forgotten, thank you for the reminder."
Edward pushed his wife playfully, and the two smiled and laughed together once more.
"Captain," Herbert called. "The Fortune has raised anchor."
Edward looked over to his companion's ship, and it was moving past them, slicing through the waves. Roberts was on the quarterdeck, and when he noticed Edward watching he tipped his hat to him. Edward returned the gesture.
"Let's get this underway, Herbert. Lay our course."
The helmsman grinned. "Aye, Captain," he said. Herbert leaned over in his chair and shouted, "Lay aloft and loose all sails!" as his first order.
The crew went up the rigging and unfurled the topsails so the wind could fill them, and then moved down to the other sails. The ship lurched forward, swaying back and forth, bobbing up and down, and all the while sounding off its usual groans and creaks.
Edward patted the wood of the railing. You'll survive, girl. You've been through worse.
The ship moved with the power of the wind between the two islands they had hid behind, and back into the open ocean. Roberts and the Fortune were already out and heading west, back towards Porto Bello to meet with the galleon.
Edward looked at the sails, filled to the brim with wind, trimmed appropriately, and yet something felt off. He turned to look at Herbert. "Herbert, do you find her a little slow today?"
Herbert glanced over at Edward, then at the sails, and then at the sides of the ship towards the churning water. "Perhaps the wind just isn't as strong as we think," he speculated. "I see no cause for concern, Captain."
Edward accepted Herbert's judgement on the matter. "It's not as if we'll need the extra speed regardless. We're escorting a galleon, after all."
Herbert chuckled. "True."
They followed the Fortune around the shore of Panama towards Porto Bello. After the near hour-long trip, most of which Fortune slowed down for, they neared the Porto Bello inlet. The sun had finally burst from its hiding spot on the horizon, and the glow afforded them better sight of the sea and surrounding area.
"Captain, I believe I see the Spanish galleon," Herbert said, pointing off the bow.
Sure enough, the Spanish vessel was there, sailing out of Porto Bello. It was a behemoth of a ship, with four masts and at least ninety cannons across two gun decks, and swivel cannons on the main deck. The sight of it was awe-inspiring and fearsome.
The two ships approached the galleon heading west as the Spaniards headed north. As they came closer to the massive ship, their own ships' sizes were brought into an inevitable comparison.
The Fortune and the Queen Anne's Revenge were alike in that they had a single gun deck, but the Fortune didn't hold as many cannons. It was shorter in both length and height, but swifter. In the presence of the galleon it looked as a dwarf standing next to a giant such as Roberts.
The Queen Anne's Revenge was longer and taller than the Fortune, had more guns, larger masts and sails, and was superior to most other pirate ships. Even with all that, Edward's ship—with masts removed—didn't look half as big as the galleon, so tall and wide was its berth.
Edward whistled as they drew closer. "If we had a ship as big as that, none would be able to touch us," he said.
"Don't be fooled by its size, Captain," William said, walking over to him. "True, a galleon's broadside could wreck a ship of smaller size than the Fortune with one, clean blast, but they are slow and troublesome vessels. Just as with most things of such a size, the larger they are, the easier they topple over."
Edward leaned against the quarterdeck railing. "Is that so?"
William nodded. "Notice the top half of the ship?" he said, pointing to the galleon as they approached. Edward pulled out his spyglass to get a better look. "It's bowed inward towards the top so the weather deck is more compact. This is to bring more weight to the centre of the ship in an attempt to keep it steady, but it still sways like no other in the water."
Edward scanned the ship with his spyglass, taking note of the shape it, as well as its movement. He chuckled. "It does sway like a bitch, doesn't it?"
Anne smacked Edward's chest. "Don't be so crude."
Edward looked away from his spyglass for a moment to grin at Anne. When he did, something to the south, towards Porto Bello, caught his eye.
Edward noticed two ships heading out of Porto Bello, itself nothing out of the ordinary. He looked through his spyglass to see two sloops of similar size to the Fortune a league behind the galleon.
Strange that they too are heading north.
Edward turned his spyglass back to the galleon, and looked at the crew on the weather deck. He could see them moving back and forth, maintaining the trim of the sails as the wind shifted. A new unease grew in his belly. He could see men running about with what looked to be boxes of something. As if that weren't enough, Edward also noticed fewer men than should be needed on the main deck. There were enough to man the sails, but that was all. There should have been more up top to relieve the others, should the need arise.
On their own, the ships, the movement on the top deck, and the lack of men manning the sails would be nothing. But together, it caused a stir in Edward, and he could not shake the anxious feeling overtaking him.
"Turn us to starboard, Herbert," Edward commanded.
Herbert turned in his seat and raised his brow. "Starboard? But we're almost beside the galleon."
Edward didn't repeat the order, and instead noted to himself that Roberts was just in front of them, and in thirty minutes would come within cannon range.
"Belay that. Get us next to Roberts on his port side. No, no, that won't work."
"Captain, could you please apprise me of t
he situation?" Herbert asked.
Edward must have had a strange look on his face, as Anne walked over to him. "Husband, is something the matter?"
"Please, everyone, cease your questions! I need to think," Edward shouted.
Those around Edward gave him strange looks, but no one asked him any further questions.
Even if we turn now, with the speed we're going and the speed of the galleon, we're still going to be in range of its cannons. If we don't turn now, we'll be dead in the water.
"The galleon is going to attack us, we need to move to starboard now and get out of its path," Edward announced. "Someone, get me a musket."
"What caused this change? Not moments ago you thought them our allies," Anne asked.
Edward pointed to the two ships approaching to their left. "I believe the Spanish hired those ships to aid them against Kenneth Locke, and to attack us. There's some strange movement on board the galleon as well," he said, handing his spyglass to Anne.
Someone brought Edward a musket, and he began loading it.
Anne looked at the approaching ships, and then to the galleon's deck. "There does appear to be some oddities, but why would they act our allies one day, and betray us the next?"
Edward frowned as he finished loading the musket. "I have neither the clairvoyance nor the patience to puzzle out whether I'm right or wrong. If I'm right, we'll escape with minor damage. If I'm wrong, we can laugh with the Spanish about it later," he said. Edward moved to the port side of the ship. "Turn this ship starboard, Herbert!" he shouted.
Herbert sank himself deep into his wheelchair and flung the ship's wheel hard to port. The ship lurched with the sudden change in direction, and the men aboard were not prepared for the shift. Some fell to the deck, others grabbed onto the rigging or the fife rails, and some simply leaned to avoid tumbling.
Christina grabbed hold of Herbert's wheelchair, holding it close like a piece of driftwood in a storm. She also helped him from taking a tumble as well by planting her feet down to secure the both of them.
The ship cried out at the change in direction, the wooden planks stretching and straining against each other. The force from the wind pushed it in one direction, the rudder in another, and the sea a third, and the ship protested with its wooden voice, as it had many times before.
Edward held fast to the port railing in one hand and his musket in the other, and waited for the moment to pass.
Herbert eased the rudder back to have the ship turning in a looser arc. If they continued to turn at that pace it could rip the ship apart, and he knew that. At least now the worst of it was over.
Now that the ship was moving at ease and Edward had his legs firmly on the deck, he took aim and fired his musket at the stern of the Fortune.
The sound of the shot rang off across the sea, its echo bouncing off the water and wood. The men on the Queen Anne's Revenge, confused over the change in direction, became alert at the noise of battle, but when no other thunder met their ears they put away their weapons.
The crew on the Fortune, however, reacted as Edward had hoped. They first searched for the source of the noise on their ship, then turned to their companions. Roberts, on the quarterdeck, was quick to look Edward's way.
They were too far to shout, but Edward could tell Roberts had his brow cocked in confusion. He motioned towards the sloops approaching, and Roberts took out his spyglass and looked through it. Roberts then turned to the galleon, which was now turning starboard to match the course Edward's ship. Roberts understood immediately, and issued orders to follow the Queen Anne's Revenge.
The two ships were now turning as quickly as they could to the north, but they still had to go in a wide arc otherwise it could put too much strain on their hulls. Meanwhile, the three ships were closing in on them from the west and south.
While he waited for the Fortune to catch up to them, Edward walked back over to the helm. He tossed the musket back to the crewmate who brought it, and approached the railing.
"Men, I need your attention," Edward said. "If I am right, our Spanish allies set out to deceive us, and would have attacked us had we entered their cannon range."
The crewmates looked at each other, questions hot on their lips. Not a day before, Edward was telling them of the alliance they had with the Spanish galleon. They believed they were heading off to get revenge on Kenneth Locke and strike a blow to Calico Jack's crew, and this called everything into question.
Edward could sense their doubts, and sought to quash them before they grew any further. "We will still head north to pursue Kenneth Locke, however right now we're not out of the range of the galleon. I need you men to bring me more speed to this vessel. I'd say we have a good…" Edward turned to Herbert. "Would you say half hour?"
Herbert checked on the galleon's position and theirs. "That sounds about right."
"We have half an hour before the galleon is on us. We must broad reach the sails, so we're already at a slight disadvantage. William?"
William was promptly by Edward's side. "Yes, Captain?"
"I know you are still injured, but I need you to find us more speed. Can I count on you?"
Without hesitation, William saluted out of habit and shouted "Yes, Captain!" before turning around and yelling orders to the crew to change the positions of the sails. He went to each group of men responsible for each of the sails and attempted to tailor each one to the position of the wind.
"Christina, Anne, could you measure our speed for us?" Edward asked.
The women nodded and went to grab a chip log from the bow cabin. They rushed past the men working on the rigging and pulling the sails over to the bow's portside.
As they worked on the sails, the Fortune crept ever closer to their port side. Edward could see Roberts leaning out over the bow, holding onto the rigging to keep him aboard. Edward went to the stern and did the same, and soon the two were close enough to hear each other.
"They were to attack us?" Roberts yelled over the sounds of sails flapping and water pounding into a mist on the bow of his ship.
"I presume," Edward shouted back above the din. "Go on ahead, you can't take the broadside."
"And you can?"
Edward's mouth became a line. He took a breath and adjusted himself on the rope holding him to the ship. He wiped his face of sweat and salt water. "We must," he replied.
Roberts grinned, and then bowed to Edward, holding that sign of respect far longer than necessary. Whatever animosity he might have had from their disagreement seemed to be gone. After his bow, he turned to his crew and issued new orders.
The Fortune's sails were trimmed and broad-reached, matching Queen Anne's Revenge in position, but vastly outmatching them in speed in the process. It wasn't long before the Fortune had already met and surpassed the position of Edward's ship, and they were in front of them once more.
"Eight and a half knots!" Edward heard Anne shout.
Eight and a half! Edward thought. He looked over at Herbert, who also looked astonished. "How in the Lord's name are we only eight and a half knots in a broad reach?"
"I don't know, Captain. Let me think it over. There must be some explanation." Herbert held his head in his hands as he mumbled over calculations in his head. Edward gave him a moment, but listened intently. "The Fortune can go sixteen to eighteen knots, fourteen to sixteen in a broad reach if not laden down with cargo. Our top speed in a broad reach is eleven to twelve knots if we're not…" Herbert's eyes shot open. "The cargo!" he shouted.
"What cargo?" Edward said, his brow raised in question.
"We weren't able to sell the cargo we took from the merchant ship. It's still in the hold," Herbert said.
Edward clenched his teeth together, anger washing over him. He cursed and ran down to the weather deck. "I want twenty men with me!" he yelled.
Volunteers jumped to and followed Edward to the crew cabin. Once in the belly of the ship, Edward woke their reserve crewmates still sleeping, some fifty or so men who would normally take o
ver during the night. The men were groggy and irritated by the early wake-up, especially considering they had only just been relieved, not two hours before.
"Men, we need to jettison the cargo in the hold, as much as we can as quick as we can." The crew, still weary, looked confused. "There's no time to explain. Form a line from the hold to the top deck. We're going to dump it over the side of the ship."
The men started to form up and create a line extending from the hatchway to the hold all the way up to the weather deck.
As the crew formed the line, Edward opened the hatchway to the hold and descended a ladder with four other crewmates. He had to bend over to go inside the hold proper. In the hold there was an assortment of pungent barrels, boxes, and bags filled with spices and other miscellaneous cargo. The overpowering smell had permeated the hold. It made his nose sting and his eyes water the instant he sniffed, and he could not smell anything of the sea or the pine of the ship any longer.
Judging from the number of containers filling the hold, Edward estimated that it was several tonnes worth, and they had less than thirty minutes to clear it all.
"Let's get the barrels first, then we'll get the boxes and bags."
Edward went to work and grabbed the first barrel in his hands on his own, hefting the thing over his shoulder. His hands struggled for grip around the large, relatively smooth circumference. He took a few breaths and unbent his knees, then stepped back to the ladder and climbed up the first few rungs.
Once he was high enough, he dropped the barrel on its side, and the first crewmate rolled it over to the second, then on to the next in line until it got to the last mate before the stairs. The mates at the stairs passed it along to each other until it was on the next deck, and then the process continued.
The first few barrels were taxing, and Edward could feel the pressure across his shoulders, chest, hips and back as he worked. Once the rhythm of the work took over, the pain faded and he lost sense of everything else in the monotony.
Lift, walk, climb, drop; lift, walk, climb, drop.
Blackbeard's Justice (The Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 3) Page 19
