Anne stabbed the man through the back as he floated towards her. Hearing his mate die, one of the marines turned and attacked Anne. He slashed at her. The water slowed Anne's reactions and she was barely able to bring the golden cutlass up to block. The man pushed down and his blade dug into Anne's shoulder. She used both hands to push back, only managing to stop the blade from going any deeper.
Nassir attacked from behind and cracked a hammer upside the marine's head, embedding it in his skull. Anger flashed in Nassir's eyes as he swung around, a cutlass in his other hand. The last marine fell, his neck cut half off. Nassir let out a yell, swinging the blade again and again at the dead marine. Great splashes erupted from Nassir's fury as he kept pounding the water.
Anne gripped Nassir's hands from behind. "Now is not the time for you to lose yourself, Nassir."
Nassir took a deep breath and stopped struggling. Anne released him, and he reached into the water to pick up his hammer from the dead marine's head, then went back to work.
The crew helped Nassir, quickly covering the holes with spare planks. Anne helped by holding the planks while the others secured the timber with nails.
"The job is not yet complete, men. This only slowed the flow. We need to clear the bilge of water to bring our full speed back. Then we can cover the beams with tar." Nassir moved to the aft of the ship.
The small space held little, aside from a few spare parts and extra cargo, but one piece of equipment was constant: a chain pump at the aft. Each pump was a chain and a winch, which, when turned, pulled water up and out of the ship.
Anne ran aft, grabbed the winch handle underneath the water along with Nassir and the two began the laborious process of hand-pumping water from the dirty bilge. The other men went to steps at the fore, and opened an entrance to the bilge. They grabbed buckets and helped drain the bilge by running upstairs to dump the water into the ocean.
Over the course of two hours the fighting finished on the top deck, the bilge water was drained, the holes fixed and covered in fresh tar, and the Freedom and Fortune escaped Lisbon and their pursuers.
Wiping the sweat from their brows, Anne and Nassir took leave of their posts. Anne returned to the top deck. The crew were cleaning the ship of debris, dumping the bodies of marines into the sea, and readying their dead comrades for a funeral pyre.
The disheartened and tired faces said more to Anne than any words could. Lost and leaderless, the crew of the Freedom had no energy or morale left. Their captain and quartermaster kidnapped, the first mate gone, a dozen crewmates dead, many more injured, the past weeks and months being hounded by an assassin who took the arm of one of their greatest fighters, all culminated into stress mounting on the shoulders of everyone.
Right now, Edward would deliver a rousing speech, turning the mood and focusing the men. I guess it is my turn.
Anne pulled herself up straight and walked to the quarterdeck. Christina was applying a bandage to her brother's forearm as he sat in his wheelchair. Anne could tell Christina too was in low spirits. Christina afforded Anne a cursory nod before returning to work.
Anne leaned forward on the quarterdeck railing, staring at the crew as they milled about. "Attention, crew!" she yelled. The crew of the Freedom stopped all they were doing and moved closer to the quarterdeck to hear Anne. "These past weeks and months have been difficult. We have had our share of battles, and losses, but we must not let this bring us down. We must press onward to save our captain."
Anne's speech seemed less than inspiring to those listening. She pressed on. "Our captain has been taken by an enemy we all know: Kenneth Locke. Unless we find Edward, Locke will more than likely kill him."
"What more do ye want of us? We be workin' ain't we?" another crewmate said, hunched shoulders of defeat hanging on him like a shroud.
"I am asking you to fight," Anne boomed. "I am asking you to fight for your captain, and for this ship's namesake." Anne pat the railing of the Freedom before gazing into the eyes of the crew. "This ship is our home, but it is also a symbol. A symbol of what we all strive for, what we would fight for, what we would sacrifice our lives for." Anne pointed to the bodies of the dead crewmates lying in a line beneath her on the waist. "Those men sacrificed their lives for that cause, for you. We all owe Edward our lives and our Freedom, and if you are not willing to yell from the bottom of your hearts that you will fight for his Freedom, for our family's Freedom, then perhaps this is the wrong ship for you." Anne turned her back to the crew and sat on the railing, closing her eyes.
She rubbed her eyes; the stress was wearing on her. She felt defeated. I failed these people. I am no leader, only a shadow of someone greater. The image of her mother entered Anne's mind, and bitter tears welled in her eyes.
But Anne's words sank in, and after a long silence, one crewman stood tall and said: "I will fight." Anne turned and focused on the crewman, smiling at his declaration. "I will fight," another repeated, stepping forward. "I will fight," a third chanted. Soon the whole crew repeated the sentiment, their fatigued eyes changing.
"I will fight," Christina joined in proudly, raising her fist in the air.
"I will fight," Herbert resounded with his sister.
The crew all focused on Anne. "For Freedom!" she yelled, pumping her fist in the air. The crew yelled the words back to her. "For Freedom," she yelled again, louder than before, the strength of the crew boosting her as they shouted the mantra back all the louder. "For Freedom," Anne yelled one last time.
"For Freedom!" She heard back, even louder than before. Anne observed the crew of the Fortune yelling the same declaration to their brothers. They were all waving, hooting and hollering with large smiles on their faces.
The crew of the Freedom were back to their old selves, Anne included.
"Where to, Captain?" Herbert asked Anne.
Anne gazed at the fore, the faintest bit of dawn's light on the starboard horizon and wind blowing her long red curls back. "North, to Ireland." She declared.
"Aye, Captain," Herbert said, turning the ship north.
We are coming for you Edward. Do not die on me.
32. Dead & Alive, Lost & Found
"I need your help," Pukuh declared solemnly. After Anne's rousing speech, he'd asked to speak with her. He wore a serious expression on his face, like none Anne had seen before.
"Anything you need, Pukuh," she replied.
Pukuh fell to his knees and prostrated himself before Anne. "I want you to train me to fight."
Anne was taken aback at the Mayan's plea. "You are stronger than this. You have trained yourself your whole life, and in time your arm will not be a hindrance to you. Why ask for training now?"
"I wish to fight for Freedom, for my brothers and sisters, but I am weak. A weak man thinks he can learn everything on his own." Pukuh raised his head and stared Anne in the eyes. "If I am to fight for Edward, for Freedom, for my village, and face Plague again, I must learn how to be the best, from the best."
Anne smiled. "Well said. However, I am not the best. William?" Anne beckoned.
William stepped up to the quarterdeck. "Yes, my lady?" he asked.
"Would you be willing to train Pukuh to fight?"
William peered over to Pukuh, who once more bowed low before William. "Stand," he commanded. Pukuh followed William's orders and even displayed his best attempt at a salute out of respect. "I will train you, but this won't be a master-pupil relationship. We can both learn from each other, so we train as equals, and I will have it no other way. Agreed, Prince?" William extended his left hand to shake on the agreement.
Pukuh lowered his salute and smiled. "Agreed," he replied, shaking William's hand with a firm grip.
The two then left to start training immediately. Pukuh was eager to learn from William, and Anne couldn't be sure, but she thought she could see the inkling of a smile on William's face too.
The recognition of the sun being out finally hit Anne, and she realised she was exhausted. The crews of Freedom and Fortune
had fought through the night without sleeping.
"Herbert, when we can, tell the Fortune to drop anchor and we'll allow the crews to rest. It has been a long night."
"Aye, Captain. I will begin now," Herbert said, yawning as he spoke.
Anne descended to the crew cabin, and lay down on the bed she and Edward had shared not a few days before. She could still smell his scent, and when she closed her eyes she could swear he was next to her. Anne drifted off into slumber, Edward forefront in her mind.
…
"How are you faring, Mister Abbot?" Anne asked, sitting beside Hank in the crew cabin of the Fortune.
"Doin' a mite better, Miss Bonney, thanks ta yer surgeon's skills," Hank replied softly.
Hank was still the worse for wear. His body, bruised and battered, was healing, but slowly.
"Stay rested, and when you're better we'll have a drink in your honour. It would be remiss for you to be late for your own party," Anne said with a grin.
"I reckon the Lord himself couldn't keep me from bein' there."
Anne patted Hank on the leg, then advanced to the steps of Fortune's crew cabin where Roberts stood watch. "He claims to be better, but he appears worse. What did Alexandre say?"
"He said to pray and wait. Alexandre has done all he could for Hank, it is up to God now. Two weeks have passed and Hank is able to stay awake long enough to talk, but he can barely keep even the least bit of food down. I fear God may have left us." Roberts gazed at his comrade, struggling to breathe, then his eyes fell.
"Do not say that. The Freedom has not given up hope, nor should you." Anne placed her hand over Roberts' and squeezed.
Roberts squeezed Anne's hand back and shook his head. "Aye, I shouldn't give up so easily. Our plight is nothing at the moment, we should be focusing on finding your captain."
"I fear God may have left us there as well," Anne said.
"My dear, Hank is one thing, but Edward is another entirely. He would not die so easily. We will arrive in Ireland soon and before you know it you two will be reunited."
"I hope you're right."
"I know I am. Besides, one should follow their own advice, lest they be a hypocrite." Bartholomew winked, and Anne smiled.
A crew member came down the steps to speak with Roberts. "We can see land, Captain. We'll be arriving in Cloankilty soon."
Roberts nodded to the crewman, then turned back to Anne. "Let's renew ourselves with some fresh air."
The two walked up the stairs to the top deck of the Fortune. The sun was approaching noon, but the cool air made it feel earlier in the day. Anne could see the Freedom off the port stern, the crew hard at work under William's direction to keep speed with the smaller Fortune. Anne moved to the bow of the Fortune and gazed at their destination.
The town was a few hours away and only a small dot on the horizon. As the ships drew nearer, Anne could see the outline of small wooden and stone homes and a small harbour. When Fortune was close to landing, Anne was able to see the whole village in front of her. She could tell from her vantage point that the small village had been built with care.
The small wooden harbour led directly to cobblestone streets with various businesses scattered about. One tavern, a blacksmith, bakery, a fishmonger, a butcher, an inn, a church closer to the centre of town, and the rest were homes. A quaint village, but Anne could tell something was off.
"There is no one outside," Roberts commented as he stood beside Anne.
Anne inspected the flags the Fortune was running. Plain and white as could be; Roberts ensured the pirate flag they traditionally used for battle was taken off before they were even close to port.
"I wonder why?" Anne contemplated aloud, not expecting a response.
"I guess we'll find out when we land," Roberts replied.
The Fortune was brought as close as could be to the small port, then the anchor was dropped into the sea and the sails furled. Anne and Roberts, along with a few of his crew, entered a rowboat to go ashore.
Even as the small rowboat was docking, Anne could see none walking about the town, but she did notice movement in curtains covering the windows. So there are people. Anne trekked along the cobblestone street of the town. She went to the closest shop, the butcher, and knocked loudly on the door. No answer. Anne rapped once more. Still nothing.
"Hello? We mean you no harm, we are only here for information," Anne yelled loudly, then tried again in Gaelic.
Roberts joined her. "Nothing?"
"No, the town refuses to answer." Anne turned around, her hands on her hips. She could see another rowboat approaching, this one carrying some of the Freedom's crew. "The curtains move and bend, and I can feel eyes upon me."
"What must we do to coax them out of their homes?" Roberts asked, glancing about.
Anne strolled down the road. "I think the better question is what has caused the townspeople to act this way." She ambled around a bend onto another long street lined with houses. At the end of the street she could see a fountain spraying water in the middle of a large open area, possibly the town square.
Anne moved towards the town square with Roberts following behind. "Do you know where you are headed?"
"No," Anne replied, not turning around. "Eventually, someone has to leave their home, and we won't depart until they do."
Anne kept walking with Roberts on her tail, unequivocally caught in her pace, as most were when next to the headstrong red-haired woman. Anne slowed down when they reached the small fountain.
She searched the square, and she could see an old man sitting on a bench at the foot of the fountain. He was wrinkled, with long grey hair and a lengthy beard of the same hue, and a cane in his hands. He didn't notice Anne and Roberts, so Anne began walking in his direction, but she was stopped by a voice from behind.
"Anne," Roberts called softly, provoking her to gaze in his direction.
Fourteen men had weapons pointed at Roberts. Bartholomew's hands were in the air. Some of the locals held swords and pikes, while others had more modern pistols and muskets. They approached Anne with caution, and she also raised her hands in the air.
"What do you want with our town?" one of the men yelled in Gaelic.
"We mean you no harm," Anne replied, also in Gaelic.
"What are they saying?" Roberts asked.
"I will handle this, Roberts," Anne replied.
Before Anne could follow through with her promise, things turned from bad to worse. Christina and ten crewmen from the Freedom and Fortune ran up behind the locals.
"Drop your weapons!" Christina yelled to the crowd.
The locals turned around, moving behind Anne and Roberts, using them as shields and leverage at the same time. What followed was a tense shouting match between Christina, Anne, Roberts, their respective crews, and the locals.
Anne tried her best to yell in English and in Gaelic for everyone to cease talking and lower their weapons, but her voice was a mere drop of noise in the bucket. Roberts also tried to command his men to lower their weapons, but fear drove them to keep the muskets up, if not steady. Christina, in her usual hot-headedness, was determined to shout louder until she was the victor, and the more shouting did not work the closer she was to pulling the trigger on her musket.
"Silence!" a booming voice cut through the din, and all eyes focused on the person it originated from. The old man who was at the bench stepped in between the two crowds and faced the locals with a steely gaze. He talked with one man specifically, the leader of the young men. The young man heatedly argued with the older man until the old man whacked the young one on the head with his cane.
After a flash of contempt, the younger man walked to the edge of the town square, motioning for his crew to follow. The threat was gone as quickly as had come, but the hostility remained. The young men still held their muskets close, disdain evident in their eyes.
The old man passed Anne and entered the street leading to the harbour. "Come now lass, let us talk. The quicker we know what you want
the quicker you will leave," he said.
"Thank you, we feel the same," Anne replied with a smile. She turned to Christina, instantly losing the smile. "Take the men back to the harbour and wait there. Don't make more trouble than you already have."
Christina was about to object, but Anne raised her hand, silencing her. She scoffed and stormed off down the street to the harbour, her cherry-blond hair whipping in the wind.
Anne caught up to the old man who was entering a nearby inn, and followed him inside. He sat at a bar stool at the back and ordered something from the barkeep. Anne sat next to him, and Bartholomew joined a moment later.
"So, lass, what do you want with my town?" the old man asked, not wasting time with introductions. He downed his drink in one gulp.
"My companion does not understand Gaelic, can you speak English?" Anne asked. The old man nodded and Anne continued talking in English. "We require information. We are hunting for a group of pirates who took our captain and two crewmates hostage. We have reason to believe they are somewhere here in Ireland."
"There's many pirates these days, too many. That's why the boys you met were hostile. Pirates have been terrorising our coasts for the past year. They've soured our outlook on visitors."
Anne sent Roberts a knowing glance. "These pirates, would you be able to describe their leader?"
"Aye lass, none would forget such a man. His eyes were dark and devoid of any compassion, teeth rotted, hair matted with grease and face covered in dirt. His most striking feature had to be the chest on his hand, clanging with the sound of treasure and doom approaching. Any who mentioned the chest was killed immediately. Called himself Cache-Hand, he did. That the man you be searching for?"
Anne nodded. "Yes, the same. Do you know where he is hiding himself?"
"I see by your manner you are educated. You already know the answer. I wish I could help you. The best information I can provide is that the ship always approaches from the east whenever they attack, and they've attacked other towns all along the coast. Follow the coast and you may be able to find where they call home."
Blackbeard's Revenge (Voyages Of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 2) Page 35
