by Michael Aye
The wind had cleared most of the smoke, and the brig was visible again. “She’s shakin out her topsails,” Peckham said. “Looks like she intends to cross Scythe’s stern and lay a broadside up her arse end.”
Anthony could only clench and unclench his fists. The lookout called down again, “Shark and Rascal’s beating down on the brig, sir.”
“Damme, if I don’t feel like climbing up there with him. He’s got the best view,” Anthony said.
“Careful now, sir,” Bart replied. “Yew ain’t as used to them heights as yew used to be. Better to let the yonkers like Mr. Davy do the skylarkin’.”
“Damn you, Bart,” Anthony replied. “You go too far at times.”
“Mr. Buck!”
“Aye, sir!”
“I’d be obliged if after we’re finished with this frog you’d be kind enough to explain proper etiquette to Bart before you keelhaul him. Then find me a suitable cox’n-one that will mind his betters and his manners.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll take care of it directly.” Buck had been with Anthony long enough to know the banter between him and the cox’n was to keep the men’s mind on them and off the impending battle. It would do no good for the men to get a case of nerves at this point in the game.
The lookout was calling down again, “The brig done gave Scythe an arse full sir, but Shark has fired and took down the brig’s top gallant.”
“Maybe that will slow them down some,” Buck said.
Smoke again had obscured all vision of the fighting ships. When the wind had finally cleared the smoke it did little to help Anthony’s apprehension. Reaper had cut her cable and drifted into Scythe. Anthony couldn’t help but wonder who had hemmed who in. Scythe was certainly in a hellish way. Thunder again filled the air as the brig and Reaper fired their cannons into Scythe.
“Mr. Buck!”
“Aye, sir.”
“I know we’re at extreme range, but I want a broadside poured into that ship. Have Williams lay each gun himself if need be and fire at will. I want our presence felt now! I’ll not see Pope sacrificed like Pitts without firing a shot.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll tend to it directly.”
Drakkar’s heavy cannons filled the air with a deafening thunder. Williams must have been waiting, anticipating Anthony’s order. “That’ll waken the frog eating son-o-bitches,” Williams remarked to his gun crews. “Let ‘em chew on them balls awhile.”
Drakkar’s weight rained down on the pirates. Not every ball struck, but those that did left a path of destruction not unlike a hurricane-ripping through sail, severing riggings and cordage, tearing chunks out of the mast, ripping up planking, and creating great gashes in the bulwark as the balls plowed into the deck. The pirates had not met a foe of Drakkar’s mettle that could reek so much havoc with a single broadside.
“Another if you please, Mr. Williams. That was music to my ears.”
“Aye, sir. On its way,” the big gunner replied. “Come on lads. Let’s give ‘em another taste with ‘is Lordship’s blessings. And iffen they’s still not satisfied, we’ll give ‘em an encore.”
Anthony turned to Buck, “After the next broadside shorten all sail.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Peckham. Be so kind as to lay us alongside there if you please,” Anthony said, using his sword as a pointer.
“Aye, sir. Alongside she’ll be.”
Even though every jack tar was expecting it, men jumped as another of Drakkar’s broadsides were loosened. Double shotted and filled with grape for extra measure. The heavy loads caused Drakkar to shudder as she spit forth her authority. The distance was much closer now and Drakkar’s path of destruction was obvious.
Anthony called for Lieutenant Dunn. “Here, sir!” Dunn reported, his uniform bright and shiny as if he were about to go on parade.
“I’d be obliged if you’d get your sharpshooters stationed where they’d do the most good. I want you to direct their fire toward anyone manning a gun, then any apparent officer, then any target of choice.”
“Aye, sir,” Dunn responded. We’ll make their life hell on earth before they reach Hades.”
“Mr. McMorgan!”
“Aye,” the boson hurried over.
“Rig your nets. I don’t expect boarders cause I intend to board Reaper. But we’d better be prepared anyway. Anthony then took time to look about him.
After Drakhar’s broadsides, the Reaper did look grim all right, but he could see a few cannon barrels poking out of gunports.
“Mr. Buck!” Anthony shouted “Everyone down!”
Reaper let loose the few guns she had left serviceable. The guns fired unevenly, yet many of the balls found their marks. Men were down everywhere. A gun captain was thrashing violently as blood spurted from an open artery where his leg bad been. Part of the wheel was shot away. A master’s mate had a huge splinter sticking through his neck and blood gurgled as he coughed. Another seaman ran screaming, his hand holding a face that was now a bloody mask. More thuds were felt as some of Reaper’s balls were hitting between wind and water. Still Williams and Lieutenant Markham had Drakkar’s gunners working feverishly.
“Stop your vents! Sponge out! That’s it men. Now load! Now be patient and wait for the officers command to fire, me lads! On the up roll. Fire!” The gun crews were tiring, but their work here was almost done.
“Lieutenant Markham! One more broadside, then you and Mr. Williams split the men into two different boarding parties. You take your men aft, and Williams take his forward. Arm them and await my signal.”
“Aye, sir. One more for luck, then we’ll divide up.”
“All right lads,” Williams called. “You heard ‘is Lordship. One more dose then we’ll run through ‘em.”
The crews were yelling and cursing, but ready. Drakkar’s next broadside was loosened at point blank range. Williams took time to peer through a gun port and admire the handiwork of his beauties. A goodly portion of Reaper’s side was destroyed. Not one of her guns was left intact on the larboard side.
“All right now, lads. Our work here is done. Let’s go be helping out our mates,” Williams yelled. “Half of you go with Lieutenant Markham and t’other half with me.”
Lieutenant Markham was not sure he liked the gunner throwing orders about, but he wasn’t about to argue with him at this moment.
After Drakkar’s last salvo the two ships drifted together, the hulls making a grinding noise. Anthony heard the lookout calling down again, “Shark and Rascal ‘as boarded the brig, sir.”
“Buck!”
“Here, sir,” he answered, hearing Anthony’s call above the increasing din of battle.
“Have Lieutenant Dunn and his marines join Lieutenant Markham’s party aft and board Reaper by the stern. Gabe and Earl have boarded the brig, and the sight of your party on Reaper’s stern may help turn the tide.”
“Aye, aye, sir. We’ll handle the bastards.”
“Good. Now before you board, make sure the bosun has us grappled together tight. I don’t want us drifting apart and the bastard escaping somehow.”
“Nay, sir. He’ll not get away!”
“Rupert!”
“Sir!”
“It’s fight to the finish I’m afraid. There will he no quarter.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way, sir.” Then Buck was gone.
“Mister Peckham!”
‘Aye, sir!”
“I don’t feel we’ll need you at the wheel for awhile. If you’ll get your mates together along with the extra men, we’ll board amidships.”
“Aye, sir. Let’s go men. There’s bloody work to be done this day I’m thinking,” the old master shouted to his mates.
Dunn’s sharpshooters were doing their part well but damned if the pirates hadn’t gotten men into the rigging. They were marking down men in Anthony’s party. As the ocean’s swell ground the two hulls together, the yardarms and riggings became tangled. Half blinded by residual smoke from Drakkar’s last broadside,
Anthony gave the signal. Williams’s party boarded forward, Buck’s party aft and Anthony’s amidships. The pirate captain was momentarily visible to Anthony, but quickly disappeared into a group of fighting men. The sight on board Reaper was indeed gruesome. Anthony had never seen such havoc as had been rent by Drakkar’s gunnery. Guns were upended, carriages lay in splinters, and men lay crushed by the overturned cannons, or torn apart like disposed rubbish.
Many of Drakkar’s balls had plowed a path of destruction from one bulwark clear to the other side. Wounded men were being ignored as their mates were fighting for their lives. Screams and curses filled the air now that the great guns were silent. Pistol and musket shots still rang out. Spent balls thudded into the deck, as more members of Anthony’s party were falling prey to the pirate’s muskets. A mild breeze was now carrying away the smoke that had helped Drakkar by reducing visibility. As they boarded Reaper Anthony heard a loud crack, then a shout of warning. He turned away just in time to avoid being trapped by more damaged rigging and falling spars. Thankfully most of it fell on a group of pirates. More canvas and cordage were hanging like great obstacles, and men had to hack their way through to fight each other. A bosun’s mate with a group of men hurried past Anthony, swinging axes and cutlasses. They shouted insults to the pirates, their arms waving metal blades that shined in the sunlight only to turn dark with blood. Anthony found himself hoarse from shouting encouragement and commands to his men. His earlier apprehensions had given way to a reckless blood lust. Splinters whipped past him, and a few stung his cheek as a pistol ball ricocheted off a downed spar next to him. Anthony turned toward the direction from which the shot had been fired. There was Reaper’s captain again, smoking pistol in hand. A loud cheer distracted Anthony. Turning, he spied Mr. Davy. Anthony could see tears, fighting tears, mad tears. The boy was giving his all. As Davy wiped away the tears, his face was left streaked with smoke, blood, and grime.
“They’ve taken the brig, sir,” he reported. It was then that Anthony realized Davy was holding his side. A large splinter was protruding where it had embedded along the rib cage. Davy’s hand was soaked from blood. Seeing Anthony’s gaze, Davy said, “It hurts too much to pull out, sir. I tried.”
Anthony turned to Bart. “Get him back to the ship so the surgeon can tend to him.”
“But sir, my place is with you.”
Anthony was moved by Bart’s sincerity, but didn’t have time to debate. “Bart!”
“I understands sir. Come along young sir. Let’s get you back to ole Drakky and see if the surgeon might find a wee potion for yer pain.”
Anthony turned his attention back to the fight. The pirates were being beaten. Slowly and at a great price-but they were being beaten. The ship was a crazed den of slaughter. A petty officer that was firing a swivel gun suddenly grasped his face and fell head long between the two ships. A huge pirate swung a blade as big as a claymore and beheaded a seaman only to have the man’s mate skewer him through the neck, creating a fountain of blood from a severed artery. Men were hacking, stabbing, and slashing at each other.
Anthony thrust his sword into a pirate who was aiming his pistol at a marine. Out of the corner of his eye, Anthony could see Buck, Gabe, and a number of men making their way through the remaining pirates by Reaper’s stern. Another pirate lunged at Anthony, his eyes glazed, oblivious to his many wounds, but now weakened. Anthony struck him down after a brief parry.
“Damme,” he thought. “It is still a wee bit hot for my taste.” He was tiring fast, the adrenaline rush was gone. A seaman fell beside him. His eyes were suddenly lifeless and staring into space, a large cutlass embedded in his chest. Without thinking, Anthony quickly dispatched the rogue who had just slain the seaman. Then another blade slashed at him, which he quickly fended off. There face to face and blade to blade, Anthony faced the pirate captain.
Their blades clashed and parted. A feint. A parry. The foes circled, each exploring for the other’s weakness warily.
Both men were fatigued and were gasping for breath. Their strength was ebbing, but neither was willing to surrender.
Most of the other fighting had now subsided. Buck and Gabe had both reached the outer part of a circle where Anthony and the pirate were dueling. Bart was almost to the inside of the circle. Sensing a distraction, the pirate lunged, the tip of his sword nicking Anthony’s side. Anthony parried the lunge and opened up the pirate’s arm from the elbow to the armpit. The arm was all but useless, and blood dripped down the man’s sleeve and off the hilt of his sword. Again the pirate lunged. This time Anthony side-stepped and brought his blade down across his opponent’s shoulder and collarbone. However, Anthony’s arm had grown tired, weak from the prolonged battle. The blade did not strike true. The pirate caught more of the flat side of the blade than the edge. Even with the glancing blow, a large gash was made and more blood began to flow.
“Give!” Anthony cried.“Give!” Then something struck Anthony in the head from behind. He felt himself beginning to fall. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and he could feel warm blood running down his neck. He seemed to take forever to fall. Then he felt pain as he hit the deck. He tried to rise but he had fallen in a bloody pool. As he tried pushing himself up, his hands slipped from under him. Then Anthony felt pain again as someone stood over him and viciously grabbed him by his hair, jerked back his head, and placed a sharp menacing blade at his exposed throat. The pain in his head was terrible, but helped Anthony to refocus. A dead pirate lay next to where Anthony had just risen. Bart’s knife was stuck in the fellow’s neck. The rogue had apparently struck Anthony from behind and Bart had quickly dispatched him for his troubles. However, the pirate captain was now holding a blade beneath Anthony’s chin. He was threatening to sever Anthony’s windpipe if he was not given clear passage along with his surviving cohorts.
“No!” Anthony tried to speak out, only to feel a slight burning sensation, then warm blood trickle down on to his chest. The pirate captain meant business.
“Rapidement,” he threatened, “Or monsieur will die.” The silence was eerie as everyone lowered their weapons and absorbed what was happening. A heavy groan emerged as another swell caused the hulls of the wounded ships to rub together. The groan was haunting. A cloud suddenly darkened the ship, creating shadows.
“Tu comprends? You have but a moment, then he dies,” the pirate threatened. Buck cleared his throat and started toward the pirate, but Dagan reached out to still him.
“Diable!” Dagan shouted to get the pirate’s attention. “I am Dagan, the revenger, corbeau.” Now Dagan’s voice was barely audible, not much more than a whisper. However, his words seemed to hypnotize the pirate leader. “Give me the knife. You have no need of such a heavy blade. Enough blood has been spilled today Surely you’ve grown tired. It’s time to cool your blood and cleanse your tormented soul.”
As if in a trance, the pirate captain started to rise, loosening his grip on Anthony as he did so. He appeared to relax as he focused on Dagan. Suddenly the silence was broken as one of the blackguards screamed, “Cut ‘is throat. Kill ‘em, capitaine. Kill ‘em.” The French captain shook his head as if clearing himself from a daze. The spell had been broken. He jerked Anthony’s head back, once again raising his hand with the knife.
“Au revoir,” he said.
It was then that Dagan raised his head toward the sky and cried out, “Corbeau attaque Le Diable!” No sooner had Dagan given his command than a blur of black wings flew down from above, screeching as it did so. The screeching caused the pirate to look up. His doing so provided the attacking bird with a perfect target. The pirate’s screams were intermingled with the great bird’s flapping wings and screeching. The bird’s claws and beak tore chunks of flesh from the pirate’s face. The pirate tried to protect his face and eyes with one hand, and fend off the demon bird with the other. But it was no use. The fierce attack had already reduced the pirate’s face to a mass of gore, making it hard to recognize as being human.
Anthony wa
s forgotten as the knife was dropped to the deck. The pirate had one eye torn from its socket and was screaming in pain. His arms were thrashing as he tried to combat his tormentor. Back he went. Back as the men moved out of his way, watching in awe at the spectacle that was taking place before them. The bird momentarily ceased his attack as the now blinded Frenchman had backed all the way to the aft rail. The raven’s beak and claws had turned red with dripping blood. The bird appeared to hover in the air above the pirate, flapping its wings in an accelerating fashion. Then the bird dove at the man’s face with such force he toppled over the rail. The pirate had at last grabbed hold of his tormentor, and together they hit the water. The warm Caribbean choked off the anguished screams and screeching. Once again everything was silent. Slowly the clouds moved, and the sun again shone bright.
Chapter Nineteen
Anthony rose from where he’d been kneeling on the deck. Touching his neck, he found the bleeding had stopped and the blood had dried. Then everyone surrounded him: Gabe, Bart, Buck, Pope and Dagan. They were all there. Dagan looked ashen and clammy. His breathing seemed labored. Anthony took his hand and the two looked directly at each other, but no words were spoken. None were needed. When Anthony released his hand, Dagan said, “I think I’ll go have a wet.” Gabe watched as Dagan made his way toward the Shark. He couldn’t understand fully what had just transpired, but its effect on Dagan was obvious. He looked drained and weak. Gabe had never seen him like this before. However, but for Dagan’s actions, Gabe was sure his brother would be dead now.
Caleb examined Anthony’s wounds and found numerous superficial cuts and bruises. The cut made by the dead pirate captain had been only deep enough to draw blood but nothing else. That it was superficial did nothing to lessen the menace of the razor sharp blade. That was still fresh in Anthony’s memory. The lump on the back of his head was another story. Anthony’s scalp was split and would require stitches. The collection of blood under the scalp hurt like hell. It was already so big Anthony couldn’t put on his hat.
