Edward, cupping his ear with his palm, listened to the whole conversation. Anne's speech sounds too natural to be rehearsed. Remnants of her mother's influence, no doubt.
The militia men were flabbergasted at Anne's commanding tone. Better than ask questions and provoke ire, the leader turned his horse and galloped off with his men following closely behind.
After passing, Anne lowered her finger, but kept the scowl in case any chose to glance back until she entered the carriage again. She let out a sigh and wiped her forehead to clear perspiration.
Once again, Edward considered asking Anne if she was all right, as Anne was uncharacteristically nervous, but he decided to let her alone.
"Take us away from here, John," Anne commanded.
The carriage lurched forward and before long they were back to the same speed as before. The trees passed in a blur from the window of the carriage, and the noise heightened with the wheels spinning on the rough dirt.
"That went well, I would say," Edward said to no one in particular. The comment, however, was rather short-lived.
A gunshot echoed over the rumble of the wheels and the carriage veered sharply. "They pursue us! Counter their advances!" Pukuh yelled.
Anne darted out of her seat and opened the compartment once more. She pulled out weapons and handed them to Edward and William. The men promptly opened the doors and leaned out, peering through the window.
Edward could see eleven men on horseback chasing them, with a newcomer leading the charge wearing the uniform of a guard from the prison. He must have told the militia to chase us, but where are the other twenty? Edward glanced to the second carriage. Herbert moved the carriage to the other side of the road, Henry and Sam also aiming at the militia.
The guard fired the first volley, with the militia quickly gaining their wits about them. The bullets rained upon Edward and his crew like a torrent.
Edward shot his musket. The militia retaliated tenfold. Edward retreated into the carriage and gripped a pistol. The guard caught up to Edward's carriage and latched onto the door. Edward shot his arm and the man let go with a cry of pain as blood spurted from his fingers. Edward unsheathed his cutlass and slashed the man's throat open. The guard fell from the horse, clutching his mess of a neck.
The militiamen were gaining on the carriages. Henry and Sam kept firing, but, being farther ahead, their bullets missed the mark more often than not. Henry shot a man, felling him from his horse.
Two men jumped on the back of Edward's carriage. One climbed to the top while the other went around the side. Edward pulled a pistol out and aimed it at the man through the window of the door. The man grabbed the pistol and pulled it forward. Edward tried to pull his pistol back, but was too weak. The man slammed his fist into Edward's elbow. It snapped and he released the pistol with a shout of pain. The man grabbed Edward's arm and tried to pull him off balance. Edward stabbed through the door with his cutlass and impaled the man.
Meanwhile, William, on the roof of the carriage, was having similar difficulty. William's punches and kicks were slower than he was used to, and the power was a fraction of their normal ferocity. The only saving grace was that the man was more a brawler than a fighter.
The man threw wild swings, a variety of uppercuts and hooks aimed at the head and body. William blocked them easily and returned punches to the ribs and chin. The man pulled in close and clinched William, pinning him while delivering small punches. William was tiring quickly, his stamina running low, and needed to end the fight. William pushed the man off. The man was sent to the edge of the carriage, but stayed balanced and moved back to the fight. William dropped and kicked the man's legs out. The man fell like a lump, hitting his head on the edge of the carriage. William wrapped his legs around the other man's legs and spun over the side of the carriage. At the last second, William grabbed the door and hung onto the carriage while the man slipped off to the ground, unconscious.
William climbed back in as bullets swarmed on him. Edward was holding his left arm close as he fired a pistol at one of the militiamen trying to climb Henry's carriage. The bullet missed, five inches from its target.
Another horse galloped beside Edward's carriage. The horse moved like the wind, spurred on by its rider, to catch up. The man on horseback aimed a musket at Anne through the carriage's open door. William, the first to notice the imminent danger, leapt and covered Anne with his body. The rider fired. William jerked as the musket ball hit true. Pukuh threw his spear into the gunman's chest before he could reload.
Anne pushed William off and sat him down in the carriage seat. He coughed from the movement and blood spurted out onto the princess's coat and splattered her cheek. The bullet must have punctured William's lungs.
"My apologies, Your Highness."
"We cannot keep this up," Anne said.
"It is a flesh wound," William protested.
"No, it is not. We need to devise a new tactic."
Edward was about to offer a suggestion when a militiaman galloped up on the left side of the carriage. He had a pistol aimed at the group. Out of nowhere Pukuh kicked the man in the chest and swung into the carriage box. The man fell off his horse and onto a rotted tree which broke and fell on top of another man.
That leaves two men still pursuing us. We can make it.
"The men behind us were killed by Henry and Sam," Pukuh said, as if reading Edward's mind.
The three let out a collective sigh, but were well past worse for wear.
Again reading their expressions, Pukuh delivered mood-changing news. "Ten men are ahead of us on horseback, blocking the path. We will reach them soon." He held a spyglass, no doubt the catalyst to his knowledge.
Ten men on horseback waited in a line along the road, muskets pointed and ready to fire at the oncoming carriages.
When the prison guard had informed the militia of who the carriages belonged to, ten had pursued from behind while another ten must have rushed down a side road to gain ground and attack from the front, and the final ten were nowhere to be seen. Edward thought they might have moved on to the prison.
If the initial news lifted their spirits, then the second piece of information sent them back down doubly so. The three were silent while pondering what could be done to escape.
Edward considered the problem until an idea presented itself. "Do we have grenades?" he asked of Anne.
"Yes, twenty in each carriage."
"What about powder?"
"Three small kegs, again, in each carriage."
"Excellent." Edward leaned out the side of the carriage, still holding his arm close. The pain was dulled with all the excitement, but Edward knew it would be back later twofold. "John, take us up close to the first group."
"Yes, Captain," John replied, clutching a bloody shoulder with one hand while holding the reins in the other. He let go of his shoulder, pulled out a whip, and urged the horses to move faster and catch up.
"What do you have in mind?" Anne asked, having an idea of the wheels turning in Edward's head.
"I will explain when we are close to the other carriage." Edward, still leaning out of the door, watched as their carriage gained on the other, and Herbert, noticing the attempt, slowed their carriage down. When the two carriages matched speed, and Edward had gained everyone's attention, he laid out his plan.
John held the reins while Pukuh helped John into the carriage box. John had enough slack on the reins to hold them when leaning out the door. On the right carriage, Henry and Nassir helped Herbert into the carriage, with Nassir holding onto the reins in a similar fashion.
Sam pulled out all the grenades and the powder kegs and tied them together at the fuses into one large cluster. Anne did the same in their carriage.
John and Nassir whipped the horses, sending them racing towards the blockade. A few of the men, seeing no one in the coach seat, wavered in their focus. As the carriages approached without slowing, the men in the blockade lowered their aim and looked at each other as if wondering, "
Are we going to move?"
Edward and company leaned out the sides of the carriages and fired upon the men, hitting a few and causing the others to move their horses away. After the carriages passed by, the militia followed in pursuit.
Edward and the crew moved out of the carriage box and to the front. They mounted the horses, with Nassir and Herbert, Edward and Edmond, and Sam and Charles all doubling up on one horse apiece. After everyone was safely on a horse, the harnesses on the animals were cut so they were not connected to each other or the carriages.
The carriages slowed to a stop while the crew escaped. The militiamen spurred their horses faster to try and catch up. As the militiamen were passing the carriages, the fuses on the grenades reached their end.
The blast of the grenades was deafening and blew the carriages apart, sending pieces of wood and iron flying. A piece of wood lodged in the neck of one man, another hit in a horse's stomach. A piece of the iron wheel pierced all the way through a young man's eye to the back of his skull, and iron balls left in the powder kegs punctured one man and his horse like a honeycomb. The blast itself tore a man's leg apart and killed his horse. After the ordeal, hardly any remained unscathed.
Edward looked back at the militiamen. Those unharmed ceased pursuing and helped their comrades, pulling the injured to the side of the road and away from the burning wreckage. Edward noticed his crew also glancing at the carnage.
Saved from the prison, Edward could finally start the plan to retrieve his Freedom.
5. Reunions
"So the Freedom is in Portsmouth?" Edward asked.
"Yes," Anne replied simply.
"Under heavy guard?"
"Most certainly."
"Well, bollocks. I suppose you have another plan?"
"Yes, of course. But we can discuss this later. Winchester is ahead." Anne pointed to the town ahead as she spoke.
The town of Winchester lay in front of them. The growing town was home to fifteen thousand souls and a large local militia whom Edward and crew already had the delight of encountering. Two roads crossed through the middle of Winchester. One, the main road, travelled alongside a small river leading north to London and south to the aptly named Southampton, amongst other locations, and the crossroads led west to Salisbury and east to the Gammond prison.
The square in the middle of the crossroads hosted a large market every day save Sundays, and shops and inns dotted both main roads, with the less reputable businesses relegated to side streets and back alleys.
Night was upon the crew when they arrived, and the only light was the moon rising and lanterns carried by the guardsmen. "Halt! Who goes there?" a militia man asked.
Anne jumped from her horse and ran to the man, nearly falling into his arms with tears in her eyes and hysteria in full force.
"Oh, heavens am I ever glad to see you, sir! My friends need medical aid. We were ambushed on the road, sir, by most foul brigands. We managed to escape with the help of your comrades on the road, but my friends were injured in the initial attack, so please let us through so we may find a surgeon."
"By Jove, my lady, yes. Bring your friends this way. I will show you to the nearest one."
The guard ran forward and Anne followed on foot, pulling the horse behind her. The crew were escorted five blocks down the main road to a normal home, by all appearances.
After a vehement knock, a light appeared behind the curtain and eyes could be seen glancing at the large company gathered in front of this man's house. "What?"
"Gelson, open the door. These people need your assistance," the guard yelled.
The door was opened without another moment's notice, and the man Gelson poked through. His hair and short bear was grey, though he was not an old man; his body was small but toned, and his wide eyes seemed sharp.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Come now, Gelson, these gentlemen and lady were attacked and need to be healed, and I need to return to my post. I trust you can handle things from here?"
"Yes, yes." Gelson waved the guard off, and the man walked back to the gate of Winchester. "You may leave your horses in the street, and enter when you are ready. I will gather my tools."
Henry, John, and Sam took the horses to the street next to the man's house while Anne and Edward helped William inside. Nassir carried Herbert, and Edmond helped Charles inside the home of the surgeon.
The room was wide open with no doors save the one for entering and exiting. The surgeon's bed was in the far right corner, sectioned off by short stairs and a railing separating the two levels. Cots and seats for patients were on the opposite corner.
Closer to the entrance, a desk stood at the front right, papers and notebooks strewn on top, with a large window showing the Winchester road. On the left was an operating table with dried blood on the floor nearby, an apparatus unfamiliar to Edward, and a similar window facing the road.
Edward lay William face down on top of the table. There was a faint smell of blood in the air, and something else Edward couldn't place his finger on like a lemon approaching decay: Sweet, lemony, but causing a sting in the back of the throat.
On the back left side of the room various tomes were on the floor, and strewn about a shelf and a desk. On the back right side, another shelf held jars of pickled animal parts, various liquids of unknown origin, and another desk with the surgeon's instruments on top.
In the middle of the room, for an inexplicable reason, two iron poles spaced about one metre apart were affixed ceiling to floor. The poles felt fairly sturdy and no amount of pulling or pushing made them budge, but none save Gelson knew their purpose.
Edward speculated that Alexandre, his surgeon while aboard the Freedom, would have loved Gelson's home. Alexandre was an eccentric man at the best of times.
"Thank you for your help. Mister Gelson, correct?" Anne asked.
"Please, call me Nathan. Now, what has happened to this gentleman?" Nathan inquired while walking to the operating table hosting William.
"He received a bullet in the back."
"Fascinating," Nathan commented, lifting up William's shirt and examining the wound. "And you?" Nathan turned his gaze to Anne.
"I have a bullet wound through the arm which needs stitching, and my comrade has a broken arm."
"And what of the gentleman unable to walk?" Nathan asked, pointing to Herbert.
Herbert laughed. "I don't think you can fix my legs, Mr Gelson, unless you're a miracle-worker."
"I will operate on this gentlemen firstly then," Nathan proclaimed while gesturing to William.
Nathan turned on the apparatus near the operating table. Pieces of metal and a yellowish liquid were in a clear bottle with a fire burning underneath. The steam from heating was then filtered through water and then to a tube with an opening at the end. Nathan positioned the opening of the tube over William's mouth and told him to breathe.
"What is that?" Edward asked.
"I call it funny fumes. Makes people laugh and oblivious to pain. I happened upon the recipe one day when I was testing a liquid toothache reliever. By itself, the liquid would burn the gums. I decided to try making the liquid a steam, and discovered the liquid produced a gas when in contact with the iron from my fillings which relieved pain."
The image of burning gums and teeth made everyone listening cringe, save an oblivious William who chuckled uncontrollably.
"See, funny fumes. Great for parties."
William had a smile showing at the corner of his lips and in his eyes. William smiling, and even laughing, was entirely foreign and uncomfortable for Edward to see.
Nathan took a thin knife and made an incision into William's back. He removed the pieces of the iron ball and sewed the wound shut without a peep from William. Henry and Sam held William down throughout, but it felt unnecessary.
Amazing. Perhaps this man is not as dull as I assumed.
"So how did you received such injuries? Do you happen to be street performers? Injuries such as these wou
ld seem to happen often by my reckoning."
Edward let out a sigh. Perhaps not.
"We were ambushed on the road by brigands in an attempt to take our horses," Anne replied, being the experienced confidence woman.
"Ah, how unfortunate. You should be wary at night, young ones, and keep your wits about you at all times. Consider me: I could spot a rogue any day."
Anne failed to completely suppress her amusement at this. "We will keep that in mind," she assured him as she replaced William on the operating table.
After Anne took hold of the fuming tube she closed her eyes as Nathan went to work. He sewed up the open wound and secured a fresh cotton bandage over it. After he was done, Anne removed the tube and opened her eyes, fully alert.
"Edward, you simply must try some of this!" she exclaimed, holding the tube. "My arm felt separated from my body and I could barely feel anything. What an incredible sensation." She took another whiff and began laughing uncontrollably.
"I think I will pass," Edward said, holding up his hand in protest.
"There is no need to operate on you anyway, my boy. Let me take a look at you." Nathan examined Edward's broken forearm, which was bruised and turning purple where the break occurred. "Yes, this does not need surgery. However, the bone is dislocated. If we do not fix the placement the arm won't heal properly." Nathan led Edward to the two iron poles. "Fully extend the broken arm and grip the iron bar. Then, push your shoulder against the opposite pole. Be sure to keep a tight grip."
Edward did as instructed. He closed his eyes at the pain shooting through his forearm. What is the purpose of this nonsense?
Edward received his answer sooner than he expected. Nathan reared back and punched Edward's forearm. Edward let out a scream which echoed through the whole home, and then fell, clutching his arm.
"Now your arm should heal properly."
"Dad damn you, you barnacle-covered son of a bitch!" Edward yelled.
Nathan laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Anne rushed over, dragged Edward to the gas machine, and placed the tube over his face.
Blackbeard's Revenge (Voyages Of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 2) Page 5
