by Rima Jean
As the sloop cut speedily through the waves toward the prey, the master gunner called, “Beat to quarters!” and the deck was cleared, the big guns readied for battle. Howel smirked. “She’s showing her heels,” he said. “She doesn’t want to fight, even though she’s got a good twenty-six guns on her.” He shouted to his crew, “We’re standing to the forefoot, you men!”
The merchantman was altering its course, and Howel intended to cut her off. At first, I was jittery with excitement, but when the chase dragged on for over an hour, I found myself growing bored. This was actually taking a long time. We were gaining on the prey, for sure, but at an agonizingly slow pace. Capturing a ship was much more a game of tactic than force, a fact Hollywood had neglected to point out in any of its movies, and Howel’s tactics were brash, arrogant, and reckless. The Buck was, strictly speaking, the inferior ship in regards to strength, but it behaved otherwise. Under Howel’s orders, she intercepted the Loyal Merchant by sailing across its bow, strategically fired a poorly-aimed chain-shot at the crew, and boldly lay by in the lee, stopping the prey dead in her tracks.
The pirates boarded the merchantman and met with little resistance. Many of the sailors, when given the option, were eager to join Howel’s crew. One exception was the surly first mate, a loud-mouthed man with terrible skin, who was brought aboard the Buck and refused to answer Howel’s questions about the Loyal Merchant’s capabilities as a sailor. He only spouted insults at Howel, which Howel took in stride, calmly waiting for the mate to pause in his vitriol, and then posing his questions once again.
“My good man,” Howel said, his good humor slipping away quickly, “I would be most grateful if you would answer me questions regarding this fine vessel, and in return I will welcome you aboard to join us, if you be so inclined.”
This provoked another stream of invectives, including some I had never heard before regarding one’s mother and sister… Howel snapped. His crew was angry, hungry for blood, and Walter Kennedy wanted to see the merchantman’s insolent mate punished. Howel said gruffly, “I gave you several chances, fellow. You stretch me patience.” He turned to his crew. “Dunk ‘im from the yardarm.”
This command was received with much glee by the pirates, and Walter wasted no time tying the still-cursing mate up with rope, his arms against his body. I realized with a jolt of horror that I was about to witness Howel’s first torture.
This would not be pleasant.
The end of the rope was tossed over a yardarm, and the man was yanked into the air and suspended, his legs flailing, his oaths lost in the wind. The ship rocked, and the Loyal Merchant’s first mate swung. He was dropped from that great height, landing in the sea with a splash, bumping against the bulwark as he fell. The pirates roared their approval, and Howel waited a while, letting the mate get a good lung-full of seawater, before signaling for Walter and the men to heave him up again. The man choked, gasped, as he was hoisted all the way up once again, swinging, spraying water into the air.
He was dropped again, but this time the ship’s movements caused him to land against the deck, his body bouncing with a thud against the ship’s planks. I cringed, maybe even cried out, but was drowned out by the vicious joy of the pirates. I looked at Howel, thinking maybe he’d stop the abuse now, for surely the mate had learned his lesson? Howel’s face was impassive as he watched the groaning man rise for a third time, and then a fourth time, and then a fifth, to the yardarm. Sometimes he landed in the waves, sometimes against the ship, and with each splash, with each sickening plop to the deck, I waited with increasing anxiety for Howel to call a stop to the torture.
The mate was hanging limply now as he was lifted into the air, and the sweat rolled from my hairline and down my face. I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed to Howel’s side and said, “Howel, you’re going to kill the man.”
He looked at me then, as if seeing me for the first time, and there was no glimmer of loving recognition, no acknowledgment of my words. After a moment he ordered, “Walter, let him down. He’s had enough, I wager. See if he’ll talk now.” He then grabbed me by the elbow and led me to the cabin, where he slammed the door shut and turned on me angrily.
“Sabrina, never do that again, do you understand?” His voice was low and controlled, but there was no mistaking the rage in his eyes.
I swallowed. “You would have killed him – ”
“Aye, very possibly!” he said, cutting me off. “But such is the nature of this trade. I am a pirate captain, do you remember? If I want to stay as such, I must show me teeth. If that means the death of a few men, then so be it!”
I wrung my hands. “Why, though? Why must men die for the pleasure of others? I thought you were against that. I thought it offended you. You don’t need that man to tell you whether the ship is any good, you know for yourself that it is. You are wasting your time with him solely to torture him, to feed the bloodlust of your men. You – ”
“Enough!” Howel said firmly. “You know nothing of this business! I have changed… I must change… or die sooner than I ought. These men I lead, many of them would think nothing of turning on me. I must make them afraid of me. Do you see? Now, when I am commanding me men, you will keep your mouth shut, lest me crew think me led by a woman.”
I was so angry I could hardly breathe. So this was what it was like, to be in a relationship with a man from the eighteenth century. What had I thought? Of course, Howel was sexist. Of course, my opinions meant even less to him than the meanest sailor among his crew. I was nothing but a woman. He turned on his heels, but before he could open the door I said, “Edward England is a better man than you, then.”
That stopped him. He froze, then turned to look at me, his face like stone. He stood, his neck and shoulders tensed, looking like a bear that had reared up on its hind legs and was preparing to attack. After a long pause, he said softly, “Aye, I don’t doubt it. I always suspected something was amiss between the two of you. The way he looked at you, before you parted ways. The way you spoke of him after he left you, in adoration. It was me first clue that you weren’t what you seemed.”
Huh? What was he talking about? I had meant to make him mad, to make him question his motives, but I hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. I hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Howel, what are you talking about?”
He was searing me with his gaze, all-engulfed in his own fury, beyond reason. He said, “Tell me, since it was obvious to a simple sailor that you loved each other… Did you let England have you?”
What the hell? It took a moment for the question to sink in, and once it did, it pissed me off. I then made a tactical error: I responded like a modern woman from 2011. I snapped, “Excuse me? That is just… offensive! And if I did, it’s none of your damn business!”
Howel bellowed an oath – a most colorful and creative use for every swear word I knew – and, like the bear he resembled, bared his teeth. He turned and very nearly busted the door down as he left the cabin, pounding at it with his fist rather than bothering with the latch.
What’s worse than a jealous lover? A jealous lover who also happens to be a pirate.
I covered my face, wondering what sort of fate awaited the Loyal Merchant’s first mate at Howel Davis’ hands. To my surprise, Howel did nothing more than force the man to join his crew. With brisk efficiency, he ordered that his new ship be “fitted for the piratical account.” He and his men knocked down most bulkheads, or partitions, and cut additional gun ports into the hull of the ship, so that more guns and men could be accommodated in the lower deck. He said to Walter, “We’ll not flush her fore and aft, because then she’ll look too much like a warship and not enough like a merchantman.” He smiled. “We must continue the ruse.”
Using small dinghies, Howel and his men transferred the armaments and cargo from the Buck to the Loyal Merchant, which he now dubbed King James. It was my first hint at Howel’s political leanings, and I was not surprised to find that they were Jacobite, like those of Edward
England.
In the end, Howel’s new ship had twenty-six guns and seventy men. Now a force to be reckoned with, the King James proceeded to ruthlessly plunder every ship that had the misfortune to cross her path. Under Howel’s command, we bore down on Dutch and English ships, and each time I found myself anxiously helping load the cannons, covering my ears at the deafening explosions. I still flinched at the burst of fire and wood splinters and smoke that erupted on each of the prey, still winced as I listened to the cries of the dying sailors. Howel was kind to his prisoners when they submitted, firm when they didn’t, and when he happened upon a captain who was deemed cruel by his crew, he was utterly merciless.
He was right – I had never seen this side of him. I don’t think he had ever seen it himself.
We were not on a speaking basis, Howel and I. He pretended I didn’t exist, as he had done before, except this time his actions spoke of an angry man. His smiles were less frequent, his eyebrows perpetually drawn together in thought. I wasn’t certain what was aggravating him – that he thought Edward England and I had had a love affair, that he believed I truly thought England was a better man, or that he was having to participate in often grisly acts as a pirate chieftain. I suspected it was a combination of all three things, and the first two, I am ashamed to admit, brought me great satisfaction.
It was about time I got under his skin the same way he had gotten under mine.
His general disregard for the sailors’ lives during attacks, as well as his condoning of the occasional barbarous acts of his pirate crew, were things I hid myself from. I wanted no part of them. As unpopular merchant captains were flogged, hung from the yardarm, or “sweated” – made to dance or run around the foremast while the pirates whipped and jabbed at them with their weapons – I retreated to the cabin, covering my ears to block out the sounds of agony and savage triumph on deck.
Howel’s methods proved to be fruitful, and the loot often included gold dust and ivory in addition to slaves. The pirates did not want the slaves – they had no use for human cargo, so Howel offered a few of the men to join the pirate crew, and the others he put on board the looted prey with the rest of the captives.
I felt my pulse accelerate as I watched the African slaves jubilantly join the crew of the King James. One of them would be my ticket back to the future. The question was, which one? They must have thought it strange, this odd pirate boy, hovering around them and watching them furtively. They spoke very little English, if any at all, and they showed no interest in me. Ruth had said he would come to me. But how would I know…?
The question would have plagued me more, had I not been distracted by the relentless plundering that was going on. Without me to occupy him, Howel was quickly becoming a big-time pirate. I had to stop the progression, remind him of who he was. I had to reconcile with him, angry as I was, if only to be his moral compass. I was terrified he would forget himself, forget the prophecy…
When Howel and his crew decided to take the Royal African Company fort in Bathurst, Gambia, on the Guinea Coast, I thought I would get my chance. The Royal African Company had initially monopolized the English slave trade, but was slowly becoming a means for trafficking ivory and gold.
“There are riches to be had by capturing the fort by trickery,” Howel told his men. “And we will take our revenge on those base merchants to boot. Whatever robberies we commit, we can be sure that we are not the greatest villains living in the world.”
Walter Kennedy and Thomas Anstis exchanged worried looks. Walter said, “Davies, it’ll be well-fitted with troops, if it has treasure within it… Its defenses will be substantial…”
Howel folded his arms across his chest, unperturbed by Walter’s doubt. He replied, “Walter, have me tactics not brought us wealth time and again? You must trust that I would not lead me men to destruction like lambs to the slaughter.” He looked at Thomas. “Trust me to devise a clever trick.”
I assumed that, since Howel and his men planned to take the guise of Liverpool merchants as they had before, I would play the wife once again. I was wrong.
“She’ll have no part in it,” Howel said tightly, addressing Walter even though I was standing right there. “This time, she will stay here.”
“What!” I cried, looking at Walter for assistance. He looked as surprised as I did. “Howel, I know you’re angry with me, but this plan works, this having me pose as your wife, and it works well. Why take a risk –”
“I said,” Howel interrupted, looking at me, “that you will have no part in it!”
“Davies,” Walter interjected, “she’s right, you know. We had great success before when she came ashore with us as Captain Reed’s wife.”
“True,” Howel replied. “But this time she will remain here. We’ve no need for her. We will tell the governor of Gambia that we are merchants from Liverpool, bound for the Senegal River to trade our iron and plate for gum and ivory. Iron and plate are highly prized by any garrison, so the governor will be intrigued by our cargo. We will then tell him that we were driven off course by two French warships, from which we narrowly escaped. We put into Gambia for refuge, and would be willing to trade our cargo in return for slaves. They will believe us, or at the very least, want our cargo badly enough to turn a blind eye.” He looked at me sternly. “Me plan is good enough, and I will not put you at risk.”
His tone implied that the conversation was over. He looked long and hard at each of us, and we understood that he would not be swayed on the subject. Walter, as quartermaster, had the authority to overrule Howel by taking a vote, but seemed to think Howel’s plan was clever enough, and there was no need to butt heads with his captain unnecessarily. He shrugged and I stormed off, infuriated. Why was Howel being so bull-headed? Was the man’s ego so fragile that he’d risk his life and the lives of his men simply because he thought I had slept with someone else? Men and their stupid notions of pride! And I thought the men in 2011 were bad…
I brooded in the cabin alone after the men left, gritting my teeth. I wanted to be a part of this. I knew that, by being a part of it, I was probably doing some serious damage to the space-time continuum. I wasn’t even sure I knew what that meant – I’d heard it on Star Trek. In any case, I was no doubt altering the future in dramatic ways. But I had kind of thrown in the towel on that front. My simple presence in 1718 had likely changed the future, let alone all the things I had done prior to this moment. Basically, I figured that regardless of what I did now, the future was screwed.
That was when it dawned on me, making me smile to myself.
I could be a part of his plan whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Thirty
James Island, where the fort was located, was spotted by a lookout well after Howel had put his plan into motion. The King James was once again a harmless English trader, flying all the appropriate flags and the majority of the pirates below deck. Several plainly-dressed hands manned the deck, and Howel, Walter and Thomas stood at the guardrail on the quarterdeck, dressed as gentlemen, visible to anyone looking through a spyglass at the ship. Howel had made it clear he preferred that I make myself scarce during the approach, and I had grudgingly taken to the cabin and peered from the stern windows as the King James slowly cruised near the fort, which the pirates called Gambia Castle.
It was formidable, and I could see a bastion jutting out into the sea, doubtlessly crowded with cannons. Surrounding the fort on the shore were three batteries, each mounted with five guns, ominously guarding the mouth of the Senegal River. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I realized that what Howel was about to attempt was enormous compared to anything he had done before. I could see why he wanted me to have no part in it. A tall, square tower loomed overhead, and I wondered what its lookout had thought when it spotted the King James sailing toward it.
We anchored in the roadstead, and Howel, Walter and Thomas climbed into a dinghy to be rowed to the beach. I felt the familiar beat of the butterfly wings in my belly. God, what if I never saw him
again? I should be with him! I reminded myself that, according to Rovers of the Sea, Howel would live to go pirating again… Until June of 1719, unless, of course, I had somehow altered his fate.
But that wasn’t going to stop me from doing what I could to help.
I rushed to the deck and peered through a spyglass as the three pirates reached the shore, where they were received by a troop of musketeers. I thought the fish I’d eaten earlier was going to come up, I was so nervous, watching as Howel gestured, presumably requesting to see the governor. Shortly, the musketeers led the three men into the fort, and I closed my eyes as they disappeared, lowering the spyglass and making a silent prayer.
I hurried once again into the cabin, and once there, undressed as quickly as humanly possible. I had given myself a scrub-down earlier that morning, and now doused myself in lavender-smelling perfume. I was in the salmon-colored gown in record time, piling my hair on my head and slapping on some powder and rouge.
Good enough.
Taking a parasol that I’d found in the lady’s chest, I climbed back onto the deck, mincing over to the guardrail in my pointed, high-heeled shoes. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching that dark and forbidding fortress where it sat guarding the steamy lushness that was Africa. I grew tired, sat for a bit, stood up again, and went back down to the cabin for no longer than was absolutely necessary, then returned quickly to my spot on the quarterdeck, gazing out toward land conspicuously.
Jesus Christ, what was taking so long?
Please don’t fail me, Walter.
Finally, I heard our lookout call down that they were emerging from the fortress. I pulled out my spyglass and peered anxiously at the three pirates as they made their way back to the dinghy on the beach. It was hard to see their faces, hard to read their movements, and I thought I would die waiting for them to get back on the ship. As they climbed into the waist, I studied their solemn faces. Walter looked up and saw me standing there, and he smiled.
