They looked up, expecting to see Pyrs rushing toward them in a rage. But no, both the captain and his first mate were on the quarterdeck not looking in their direction at all. There was another shout and they realized it was coming from the masthead. A sailor clung to the top of the mast, looking through a spyglass at something on the horizon.
“A ship!” he screamed. “Spanish, by the looks of her!” The crew aboard the Sea Eagle suddenly sprang to life. Men dropped whatever they were doing and ran past them.
A look of fear had come upon John’s face and even he, without a word, would have dropped his mop and hurried off if Noble had not caught him by the arm. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“A Sp-spanish ship,” he stuttered. “She’s coming from the West Indies, filled with treasure. The Sea Eagle is going after her.”
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CHAPTER FOUR
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Battle at Sea
John Roby ran off without another word. Noble and Sir Michael looked at one another in dismay. “We have to stop this,” Noble said. “We cannot sit by while Captain Callice commits an act of piracy.”
“But how to stop him?” Sir Michael asked, shaking his head. He followed Noble, nevertheless, as he dashed up the steps to the quarterdeck.
The captain was barking out orders to the helmsman and others who were setting the sails and manning the cannons. Pyrs echoed the captain, screaming out commands and shaking his fists at those who were not moving fast enough to suit him. The moment he caught sight of the two knights, though, he came charging at them.
“Get off!” he screamed. “Get off the quarterdeck! You have no business up here!”
“We do have business,” Noble said. “The king’s business.”
“Bah! Go away!”
“I’ll handle this, Pyrs,” the captain said as he came up behind him. He placed his hand on the mate’s shoulder and steered him away. Pyrs did not go far, however. He stood there glaring at them, barely able to keep his mouth shut.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Captain Callice asked. His tone was polite but there was a slight sneer on his face. It was obvious he did not care at all about what they had to say.
“We understand you are going after that ship, Captain,” Sir Michael said. “We must ask you not to do that. You agreed to take us to Brittany and there was no agreement to any, er—business along the way.”
“Whether I have business to do along the way, or not, is unimportant to you. I am captain of this ship and I give the orders.”
“Captain Callice, we represent King Stephen. You are working for him since you agreed to carry us on this mission for him. You may give the orders to your men, but we are giving the order to you to stop this folly and continue on to Brittany,” Noble said sternly.
The captain gave a short, harsh laugh. “Do you think I care about your King Stephen?” He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket. “Do you see this? It is a letter of marque, a commission from Queen Elizabeth herself giving me the right to go after that Spanish ship and take everything and everyone on board, if I should so choose! I am in the employ of the queen of England with orders to bring back riches for the queen and the treasuries of England.”
“And for yourself, as well, no doubt,” Sir Michael said.
“Of course,” Captain Callice said smoothly with a smirk.
“So you are a privateer, then. Well, that may be so, but you are still in the employ of King Stephen, as well,” Noble said.
The smile was wiped off the captain’s face and he shouted angrily, “I care not about your king! Queen Elizabeth is the greater ruler and it is she to whom I answer! If you don’t like that, I will gladly drop you off my ship right here and you may find another way to Brittany! Do not test my patience! There are seventy men on board who obey my orders and only two of you! Would you like to see who would win this argument if put to the test?”
The captain pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his suddenly red face. He took a deep breath and continued more calmly, “If you are too afraid to face a battle with the Spanish, then go to your cabin and hide in your bunks. In the meantime, the men of this ship will follow my orders—which are to chase down that Spanish ship and plunder her! Now, get off my quarterdeck!” With that Captain Callice turned and walked away, shouting orders once more to the men around him.
Noble and Sir Michael stood there a moment longer. “As much as I hate to admit it,” Sir Michael said, “there is nothing we can do about the situation, Noble. We are badly outnumbered, and he is the captain of the ship, right or wrong.”
“I know. Well, we had better decide what we will do if it comes to a fight. We will certainly not be hiding in our bunks!” Noble said smiling grimly. They started down the steps to the main deck.
In the few minutes they had spoken with the captain the Sea Eagle had picked up speed and was fairly flying over the water. The wind was with them and filled out the billowing sails. Men were shouting in excitement, pointing at the Spanish ship that seemed to be getting closer with every passing minute.
Noble shook his head. It was difficult for him to understand the situation. How could these men look forward so eagerly to the coming battle? A fight in which some would be injured, maybe killed? For what? Tobacco and rum, spices and sugar, and maybe the occasional treasure? They would get very little of the plunder, if any at all, for it would be split between the Queen and Captain Callice.
There were ten cannons aboard the Sea Eagle. Several men now manned each of the five big guns on the side closest to the other ship. One or two men loaded a cannon ball in each, while another worked at training its sights on the vessel before them.
They were quickly pulling even with the Spanish galleon. The two ships were still separated by a wide expanse of water, but Noble could see men on the other deck running to and fro, just as they were on the Sea Eagle. Suddenly he said, “Look, Sir Michael! That is no unarmed merchant ship!” He pointed to cannons on the galleon that were aimed at them. And to his dismay he now noticed a flag being raised on the Spanish ship—a red flag, the symbol of pirates.
The seamen around them had seen the same thing. A roar rose from the men aboard the Sea Eagle—a battle cry. They were eager for a fight, and it did not matter to them that their foe were not the easy victims they had first thought they were. The Spanish pirates would fight back—ferociously, if everything Noble had heard about them was true— but the English privateers did not seem to care.
A flag now rose on their own mast. It, too, was red, but beneath a skull was a pair of crossed cutlasses. A thunderous shout rose from the galleon when they spotted the new banner flying from the Sea Eagle. The battle lines were drawn. Noble and Sir Michael stepped back from the railing just as the first shot was fired.
For a moment Noble was unsure which ship had fired first, but as water splashed over the railing right where they had been standing a moment before, he realized a cannonball from the Spanish galleon had barely missed them. “Come on,” he urged his friend. “It appears we may have to fight, after all, but I have no desire to be the target of the cannons aboard that galleon! Let us move away from here!”
Several loud booms followed them as they ducked around to the other side of the quarterdeck. Smoke billowed from the heavy cannons, but it could not soften the sounds of battle that filled the air as well. A volley of explosions from both ships split their eardrums, but even then it could not drown out the shouts and screams of the pirates surrounding them—cries of rage, fear, and pain. Wood splintered and cracked as several of the shots hit their mark, and here and there fire broke out on board the Sea Eagle. The ship rocked and shuddered under the onslaught.
It was terrible. Noble bowed his head and for a moment all was still around him. “Father,” he prayed, “be a refuge to us in the midst of the battle. You are our fortress and strength and shield. Protect us now from our enemies, we pray, and we will trust in Thee.”
The roar of the can
nons had stopped suddenly as he prayed. Both ships were reloading. Those few moments passed quickly, however. Sir Michael shook his arm and said, “Look!”
Noble opened his eyes. The Spanish galleon had taken advantage of the brief ceasefire and pulled up alongside the brigantine. Several of the Spaniards were throwing ropes with large hooks on them over the railing of the Sea Eagle and little by little the pirates were pulling the two ships closer together. The gunners aboard the English ship were scrambling to reload and turn the cannons upon their enemies, while others rushed to the ropes, trying to cut them loose, but it was too late. As Noble watched, the Spanish pirates began to leap aboard the Sea Eagle, brandishing their swords and yelling in evil glee, eager for a fight.
Above the fray Noble heard the voices of Captain Callice and Pyrs screaming at their men. “Fight! Fight, ye scurvy dogs! Fight for your lives! They shall not take the Sea Eagle!” The seamen turned away from their cannons and drew their swords, falling upon the enemy as they came aboard.
There was no choice. Sir Noble and Sir Michael drew their own swords. Like it or not, the battle had come to them and now they must join ranks with Callice and his privateers.
They did not have long to wait. The stream of Spanish pirates flowing over the sides of the Sea Eagle seemed to never end, and before they knew it, they, too, were caught up in the fight. They stood back to back, facing the enemy, and wielding their swords as pirates and privateers alike swarmed around them.
It was a desperate fight. The crews of both ships totaled nearly two hundred men, and they were packed closely on the deck of the Sea Eagle. There was no place to move away from the flash of swords or the thrust of knives, so they fought with all the skill they could muster. Fortunately the two young knights from Caernarfon had been well-trained. They stuck closely together, defending one another and skillfully fending off their attackers.
All the while Sir Noble was praying. “Lord, you are my shield! You are my defender! My salvation rests with Thee! Save us from our enemies, Father!” Though the battle raged around him, his heart was calm as he called unto his Father, and his thoughts and eyes were focused on what he must do. Noble was an excellent swordsman, but he had had little experience in battle. Now he felt the Lord’s hand upon his own, and angels surrounding them as they fought their earthly enemy.
The battle seemed to go on forever, but at last the Spanish pirates began to see they could not win. The men of the Sea Eagle were determined they would not lose her to their enemies, and as they fought for their ship and their very lives, the gaunt, half-starved men showed a strength and boldness that Noble would never have thought possible.
Apparently the Spaniards were just as surprised. One by one they began to retreat to their own ship—but not before taking with them whatever they could lay their hands upon. Kegs of supplies and casks of gunpowder, even rope and whatever weapons, clothing and boots they could steal from the fallen went over the side with them. Worst of all, though, was the booty of human lives they took with them.
Prisoners—the pirates were taking prisoners. While a large group of Spaniards battled on, those Englishmen who had thrown down their swords in fear and those who were weak or lay wounded upon the deck were hustled at the point of a sword over the railings, as well. The pirates were taking prisoners to use, or even sell, as slaves.
Noble saw what was happening out of the corner of his eye, but there was little he could do about it. He and Sir Michael were still in the thick of the battle, fighting with all their strength and skill. Suddenly, though, a familiar voice rising above the sounds of battle caught his ear. For just a second his focus wavered and he glanced behind him.
It was what he feared. The cry had come from the boy he and Sir Michael had talked to earlier, John Roby. The scrawny lad was being pulled toward the side of the ship, and though he struggled with everything he had, he was no match for the pirates who had captured him.
There was something about the poor boy that spoke to the heart of Sir Noble. “No!” he shouted now. He whipped around again just in time to block the thrust of a Spanish sword, and for a moment his heart beat faster. There was no time now to waste in fear, though. He had to get to John! With a quick lunge and several thrusts of his own sword, he had pushed past the pirates that surrounded him and now he dashed toward the fleeing pirates and young John Roby.
The Spaniards had fallen back at the sudden bold attack by this young knight, but now they turned their attention to the other knight he had left behind. Sir Michael was hard put to ward them off on his own, but he did not blame his friend for deserting him. He, too, had seen John Roby being carried off by the pirates. “Help him, Noble!” he called after him now, though never taking his eyes off the enemy before him.
Noble pushed forward through the battle, desperately trying to reach the boy. The men holding John saw him coming and doubled their efforts to reach the railing. Noble fought past each of the pirates between them, and at last was within a few steps of them. Two of the pirates stepped forward to meet him, while one continued to hold John, pushing him ever closer to the side of the ship.
Whether it was the fire in Noble’s eyes that made them hesitate, or the way he wielded his sword, or perhaps the feeling that angels fought with the righteous young knight—for some reason the pair of fierce pirates stopped suddenly and then, turning, made a dash for the railing. All thought of their prize was gone as they scrambled back to their own ship.
The one left holding John shouted after them angrily, but then turned back to Noble. He brandished his sword as if daring the knight to try to take his captive away. His filthy arm was around John’s neck as he pulled him backwards, forcing the boy dangerously over the edge. An evil sneer was upon his face and he laughed wickedly as he saw Noble come to a halt just out of arm’s reach. He threw his own leg over the railing, prepared to leap down onto the galleon’s deck, dragging his prisoner with him.
Noble saw his chance. With one leg over the railing and holding his sword in one hand and his captive in the other, the pirate was off balance. Noble leaped for John, giving his enemy a mighty shove in the process. He grabbed hold of John around the waist and pulled with all his strength. The pirate tried to grab hold of the railing but it was no use— he was too far gone and suddenly he plunged into the water between the ships.
Noble and John fell backwards, tumbling onto the deck which was now slick and littered with the effects of the battle. Noble breathed a sigh of relief, though. He had saved young John Roby from a terrible fate. The boy lay next to him now, his face pale and his eyes closed. “John! John!” He lightly slapped the lad’s face. “John, you must move away from here!”
John’s eyelids flickered open. “Thank you! Thank you, Sir!” he moaned. “You saved my—“
“No time for that now! Move away from here! Find a place to hide! I must get back to my friend!” Noble’s eyes were searching the deck for Sir Michael. At last he spotted him not far away. His breath caught in his throat, though, when he saw him. Sir Michael was still fighting, but there was a nasty gash on his head, and one sleeve was soaked in blood. Even as Noble watched, the young knight swayed on his feet, looking as if he would fall at any moment. Noble started to scramble to his feet. He must help him!
“Look out!” John Roby suddenly screamed.
Before Noble could react, something came crashing down on his head. Pain seared through his brain and stars floated before his eyes. Hold on! Hold on! he tried to tell himself, but it was no use. Blackness descended over him and he could feel himself sinking into the darkness. With his last moment of vision he saw Sir Michael turn toward him. “Nooooo-ble!” he heard as if from a very great distance, long and drawn out, and as if in slow motion. And then there was nothing, nothing at all.
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CHAPTER FIVE
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Captive!
Noise assaulted his brain and made him feel sick, but the light was even worse, stabbing like knives, when he tried to open
his eyes. He drew a deep shuddering breath and tried again. He was on his back. The sun above burnt directly through his lids as he squinted cautiously into the deep blue sky. All around him he could hear cheering and loud, rough laughter. Nothing was making sense to him, though.
He carefully turned his throbbing head. That boy lay next to him—what was his name? He was having trouble remembering. John? Oh yes—John Roby. He had saved him, had he not? So why, then, was he lying there unconscious again? Why didn’t he move like he had told him to? He looked around for Sir Michael but could not see him. Something was wrong. Something looked different, but in his confusion he could not understand what it was.
With a groan Noble turned over and pulled himself onto his hands and knees. He felt sick to his stomach. He had to get to the railing before he – what was it Sir Michael called it? Oh yes—he was about to feed the fish. He crawled to the railing and pulled himself up.
All thoughts of his churning stomach, though, left his mind at the sight that greeted his eyes. In the distance was a ship, a ship that looked familiar. From its mast, just below the British flag flew another banner—a red flag that bore a skull and crossed cutlasses. It was the Sea Eagle.
Horror filled his mind. Why was the Sea Eagle sailing away without him? Where was he? It could only be the Spanish galleon. He had been taken prisoner!
“Get down!” a voice whispered behind him. “Get down before they see you!”
Noble could scarcely drag his eyes away from the ship that was sailing off into the distance, but at last he slipped to the deck and looked back. John’s eyes were open and he was up on one elbow.
“Get down,” he whispered again. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Noble crawled on his belly back to the boy. He noticed for the first time that there were several other men from the Sea Eagle lying nearby on the deck, as well. Some were lying still with their eyes closed, while others were silently watching them. The same look of despair was on all their faces.
Sea of Honor (Noble Heart Book 5) Page 3
