by Ted Bell
“Pass the word forward,” Lafayette said to a marine. “Starboard gun crews open fire when Dragonfire comes within range. Rake her with a broadside. Subsequently, all gun crews fire at will. Sharpshooters aloft as well.” The battle was joined and Revenge sailed deep into the heart of the enemy, firing with everything she had. The sounds of cannon and musket rent the air with a deafening roar.
“The Ville de Paris is closing on us quickly, sir,” Nick said, “off our starboard bow.”
Lafayette turned and saw de Grasse’s warship approaching hard on the wind, narrowing the distance between them. He turned to a crewman. “Signal, ‘Line ahead,’ ” Lafayette said. This meant de Grasse’s ships were to form up in single file, bow to stern, and follow Lafayette’s Revenge when she came about to a northerly heading. “Ready about, helm. Put her hard over and come to degrees zero due north.”
The crewman quickly ran the appropriate signal flags to the top of the mizzenmast. As the order was relayed throughout the French fleet, every warship fell into line behind the massive Ville de Paris, racing to reach Revenge and follow her into battle. Having come about, Lafayette now had de Grasse on his stern.
A marine lookout to port called back to Lafayette, “Small craft approaching port side, sir. No lights. She’s headed straight for us.”
Lafayette swung his glass round and said, “Valois returns! Good! Ease off, helm, but keep a way on. Prepare to take those men aboard and recover the longboat. Smartly, now.”
So, the Marquis thought, Valois’s bombs were set, the long fuses lit and burning toward the bombs. If all went well, those small bombs could contribute mightily to the confusion and effectiveness of the pirate fleet’s reaction to the surprise pre-dawn attack.
Moments later, Valois, smiling, strode across the quarterdeck and stopped in front of Lafayette, saluting smartly. “It is done, sir,” he said.
“It is well done, Lieutenant.”
Then, turning to the helmsman, he said, “Flank speed now, come right five degrees, take Rising Sun just to starboard, and I don’t want to see much water between us, mind. One false move from you and you die where you stand. I can steer this ship if I have to.”
The helmsman nodded and put the wheel over.
“Lieutenant Valois, please escort Captain Blood below and lock him up. Post a guard. I don’t want—”
At that moment Blood bolted, screaming at the top of his lungs, racing for the steps leading to the main deck, hoping somehow to sound the alarm, awaken his sleeping comrades in nearby ships still unaware of the impending attack.
A marine raised his pistol and took aim at the pirate’s back only to have Lafayette firmly grasp his forearm and lower the gun. “No. I want him alive. Round up a small search party, find him, and throw him in the brig. I’ll deal with him later.”
Suddenly there was a loud explosion and a great flash of fiery orange light shot up from somewhere in the middle of the darkened pirate fleet. The first of Valois’s gudgeon bombs, Nick thought. That would wake the drunken pirates up all right, and soon.
“Watch that anchor rode to starboard!” Lafayette shouted at the helmsman. “Left, two degrees!” The helmsman, deliberately or not, had been about to entangle Revenge with the Rising Sun’s ground tackle. The bowsprits missed by inches, and Revenge sailed on toward the Pearl, Edward England’s vessel.
Admiral de Grasse’s flagship remained dead astern, following them at about one hundred yards. Trailing in her wake, the twenty-eight French ships of the line so desperately needed by General Washington at Yorktown.
The die was cast. They were taking the fight right into the very heart of the enemy!
“Sir,” Nick said, “might I have your permission to join the search party?”
“I suppose. But why?”
“Because, sir, I know exactly where to find Billy Blood,” Nick said over his shoulder, dashing off.
46
SNAKE EYE STEPS FROM THE SHADOWS
The pirate crew aboard Rising Sun awoke to the murderous assault of heavy cannon fire as Lafayette’s gunners bombarded the 74-gun pirate ship with equal measures of grapeshot and chain, which shredded her rigging, and solid 34-pound balls, which blasted through her thick wooden hull. Lead and vicious flying splinters found human targets above and below decks. One lucky ball found the base of the mainmast. The towering spar pitched forward, bringing down a ton of rigging as it crashed to the deck, instantly killing two forward lookouts and a number of seamen desperately sheeting in the foresail in an attempt to get under way.
Had Rising Sun’s crew been mustered to battle stations, a hundred men might have died. As it was, most crew stumbled sleepily out of their hammocks, headed topside to find out who on earth was shooting at them in the middle of the night.
The great Battle of Nassau Town, as it would later be known, had begun in earnest. The attack on the sleeping Brethren of Blood was led by the captured pirate ship Revenge, now under the command of the Marquis de Lafayette and flying a white French ensign at her masthead. She was followed closely into battle by Admiral de Grasse’s mammoth flagship, Ville de Paris, and twenty-seven more French ships of the line.
Nick saw the three-man search party sprinting down a for’ard staircase in a frantic search for Old Bill. They were starting at the bow, the dead wrong end of the ship, and he instantly decided he was better off on his own anyway. He usually was. He paused and watched in amazement as Lafayette’s highly trained gun crews, having commenced fire at the port bow, and fired the forward-most cannon, were racing to the next guns aft. They were swiftly working their way aft, raking Pearl with a deadly broadside.
There was no real return fire from the enemy. Not yet, anyway. Nor had he yet heard the stirring sound of drums beating to quarters drifting across the water. Still, Nick knew the worst was to come; there was no way the French fleet would get through this thick maze of heavy warships unscathed.
The portside gunners helped their starboard crewmates, reloading the port guns as quickly as they were fired. As Nick moved aft to begin his search for Blood, he saw the pirate crew emerging from every hatch and opening on Pearl ‘s main deck, scampering to run out her guns. But, aboard Revenge, sharpshooters, high above, now began picking off men with startling accuracy. Countless enemy sailors were killed within that first five minutes, either by musketball or flying pieces of jagged wood, as the hull was smashed by the barrage of cannonballs. As Nick had learned in his first sea battle, the most lethal projectiles were not cannonballs but the razor-sharp splinters of flying wood they produced.
The deafening sound of cannon, bucking and roaring as the flaming matches were held to their touchholes, was punctuated by the sharp, distinctive explosions of the single rudder bombs, the deadly grapefruit planted throughout the enemy fleet by the heroic Valois and his men. They were now exploding every few minutes as the fiery fuses sizzled upward to the gudgeons, blowing the pirate ships’ rudders right off their iron hinges. Helmsmen, arriving at their stations, would find their rudderless warships practically useless in the battle to come. So far, so good.
The audacious action seemed to be working, Nick thought with some satisfaction as he ducked into a dimly lit staircase leading below. He took the steps two at a time, knowing time was of the essence now, knowing he’d only a slim chance of success anyway.
The private aft companionway leading to Blood’s stern cabin was in semi-darkness. Only a few guttering candles mounted in sconces showed Nick the way. They cast small pools of light every six feet or so, and the corridor appeared to be deserted. Since the entire crew had been rounded up and herded into the forward hold, then locked inside it, he had little fear of sentries or guards leaping from the darkness.
He could see the large door of Billy’s cabin at the end of the narrow corridor. He was treading lightly now, scarcely breathing. The door was slightly ajar, and the lantern light inside meant Old Bill was most likely just where Nick thought he’d be. Barely moving his lips, he whispered the prayer that
had always provided strength to face his fears: “Nelson the strong, Nelson the brave, Nelson the Lord of the Sea . . .”
Nick McIver pulled the double-barreled pistol from his waistband with his right hand, cocking both triggers. Taking a deep breath and advancing stealthily, he pushed the door open an inch or two and put his eyes to the crack. Blood was in there all right. He was seated at his round table, atop which was a small lockbox, heavily banded with iron and secured by a large padlock. Bill had his hook inserted into it and was trying to open the lock feverishly.
Nick knew exactly what was inside the chest. He had arrived in the nick of time.
Nick stepped inside, his pistol aimed at Blood’s heart. “Captain Blood,” he said.
Blood looked up and, seeing the brazen boy who’d long bedeviled him, turned red with rage. Nick saw him reaching below the table with his right hand.
“Both hands palm down on the table, sir,” Nick said, with a lot more confidence than he was feeling. The pistol in his hand seemed to have a mind of its own, wanting badly to shake, but he was determined to hold it steady and true. His heart was pounding wildly, as if it might burst his ribs.
Blood had no choice but to comply. He placed his hands on the table. “What do you want now?” the captain spat out. “It’s always something with you, ain’t it now?”
“It’s stolen property I’m after this time, sir.”
Blood laughed. “And what stolen property might that be?”
“The golden orb inside that chest, sir.”
“Golden orb? It’s mine, boy. But if you want it so badly, come over here and open the chest. C’mon, come and take it. I’ll not stop you.”
Nick smiled at the obvious ploy. He knew he could no more unlock and open the iron chest with one hand than fly to the moon. He raised the pistol a few inches, pointing it between Blood’s eyes.
“You stole that machine from a distant relative of mine, sir. Captain McIver of the Royal Navy. In the middle of your treasonous mutiny, as I remember it, sir.”
“ ‘Twas never McIver’s to begin with, boy. It was originally plunder belongin’ to Napoleon himself. McIver took it from a French ship he’d captured off the Spanish Main, and I took it from him the night I took my leave of the Royal Navy. Now, leave me be, or I’ll have your scrawny gullet slit from ear to ear.”
“An unlikely turn of events, sir. You’ll recall that General Lafayette holds your entire crew under lock and key. And my pistol has two barrels. One of them is sure to find you.”
“Not my entire crew, boy, no, not at all. They missed one, you see. And a very dangerous one to overlook, laddie boy.” Blood laughed.
Nick then heard an ominous hissing sound behind him, as if someone had poked a sharp stick at a coiled snake hiding in a dark corner. He knew that sound well, and it sent shivers rippling from his spine to his brain.
Snake Eye!
Before Nick could spin and fire, the gruesomely tatooed savage stepped out of the shadows behind him and wrapped two powerful hands round the boy’s neck. Nick could feel the cords and blood vessels in his throat beginning to compress and collapse under the pressure of the pirate’s cold hard fingers. He could get no air.
“Drop yer pistol,” Snake Eye sneered into Nick’s ear, “now.”
Nick was seconds away from blacking out. He dropped the gun and it clattered to the floor.
“Now, kick ‘er away, easy like.”
He did, and the painful pressure on his gullet eased somewhat.
Snake Eye’s hands were replaced by a serpentine dagger at Nick’s throat. Nick knew the knife. He’d once seen Snake Eye use it to slice off a piece of his own tongue and eat it, just to show how fearsome he was.
Blood sat back in his chair and smiled at his victim. “Another unlikely turn of events, ain’t it, you young devil? Now what shall I do with you?”
“You’ll be wanting this head for yer collection, Cap,” Snake Eye said, whipping the knife about, as if preparing to behead the boy.
“Ah, me collection,” Blood said. “Pull open that cupboard door and let him have a look, Snake Eye.”
Snake Eye reached out with his left hand and flung open the door to a large cupboard. There were four shelves. On each shelf sat human heads in large glass jars, filled with some yellowish liquid to preserve them.
“Space enough for the boy in there. On the bottom shelf reserved for me lowliest foes. And I’ll have his head soon enough. But search him first. He’s likely to have the other orb about his person.”
Snake Eye kept the knife at Nick’s throat while he ran one hand roughly over Nick’s body from the neck down.
“Raise yer arms, devil!” Blood said.
Nick did, and Snake Eye searched there, too.
“Ain’t got it on his person, Cap.”
“Where is it, boy? You’ll not pull a disappearing act like Port Royal this time, that I’ll warrant!”
“I gave it to General Lafayette for safekeeping,” Nick lied. In truth, the orb was sewn inside his pillow in the small cabin he now shared with Lafayette aboard the Ville de Paris.
Nick could see Blood thinking, he guessed, that the wily old pirate could exchange Nick’s life for the orb. But the odds were not in his favor. There were too many marines and sharpshooters protecting the Marquis, and Blood knew it. He used his hook to open the lock, his brow furrowed with thought.
“He can keep his precious head for now,” he told Snake Eye. “I’ll warrant I made a mistake the first time, throwing him in the oubliette at Fort Blood. I deprived the good citizens of Port Royal of seeing his head on the guillotine block afore it rolled into the basket. They were sore disappointed. Mayhaps they’ll get a second chance, eh, boy?”
At that moment there was an enormous crash as a cannonball shattered the stern mullioned windows and then smashed into the far bulkhead of the captain’s cabin, splintering it. Cannon fire was nearly continuous now, Nick realized, and the Revenge was taking a beating from the Brethren of Blood. He could only hope the surprise appearance of de Grasse and his fleet was giving the pirates a good pounding.
Blood rose to his full height. He was dressed, Nick saw, in a long scarlet silk coat and white satin breeches, which were stuffed into his polished black boots. He’d not lost his ill-deserved vanity.
“I’ll be taking me leave now, Snake Eye. You hustle that feisty little bugger for’ard and down to the powder hold. There’s a secret hatch down there in the hold, see, kind of hidden-like in the hull.”
“Yer secret escape hatch,” Snake Eye said, with a nod. “I know it well enough.”
“Aye. Give ‘er a solid kick and she’ll pop right out. I always keep a small rowing gig under tow by that portside hatch, for emergencies such as this one. Take the gig and the boy to Nassau Town. Ain’t but a mile distant. Make him row. I’ll meet you there later tomorrow at the Greycliff Inn on West Hill Street. Then we’ll take him back to Port Royal and give the crowds a proper send-off this time, eh?”
“Aye,” Snake Eye said, watching as the padlock was removed. Blood smiled, opened his lockbox, and lifted the gleaming orb out of the chest. The cabin was suddenly filled with fire. He held it up to admire for a moment longer before twisting it open. Using one finger, he deftly entered his time and destination. Then he looked up at Nick.
“Don’t look so a’feared, Nicholas McIver. Sooner or later, it was bound to come to this. Crossing William Blood is like jumping into a pool of ravenous sharks. Ye’ll soon find yer carcass ripped to bloody pieces!”
“I’m not afraid of you, sir. I never have been.”
Blood looked at Snake Eye, and both of them snorted. “Then you really are the little fool I always took you to be!” Blood threw his head back and laughed loudly, the silver skulls braided in his black beard tinkling merrily. Then he rejoined the two halves of the Tempus Machina.
Despite his frustration over Blood’s escape, Nick never tired of seeing the miracle of the golden orb. He heard the lovely tinkling of tiny bell
s and saw the captain’s shape transformed into countless luminous fireflies. They began winking out, and soon enough Billy Blood was gone. Vanished.
“Allons,” Snake Eye said, grabbing Nick roughly by the shoulder. “Let’s be on our way, and not a peep out of yer smart mouth or I’ll take yer head for meself. Stick it on top of a pike and parade it through the streets of Port Royal. Would be my pleasure after what you’ve caused me.”
Nick stepped out of the cabin into the darkened companionway. With the tip of the pirate’s dagger in the small of his back, he made his way along the dim corridor, down two sets of steps and forward to the powder hold amidships.
“Open it,” Snake Eye said, and Nick pulled the heavy door wide open. The pirate grabbed a burning torch from an iron sconce, and they made their way carefully inside, fire and tons of black powder being a most dangerous combination.
In the light of the flickering torch, Nick plainly saw the small escape hatch cleverly disguised to look like part of the hull. Snake Eye held him tightly by the throat and gave the hatch cover a mighty kick. It splashed into the sea, and all of a sudden Nick saw and heard the ferocity of the battle raging around him: many ships afire or sinking, dead men and debris floating everywhere. Smoke smelling of black powder burned his throat and nostrils, causing his eyes to water. Every were he looked, in any direction, he saw ships in flames, some of them sailing endlessly in circles, their rudders having been blown off by the bombs.
A small gig was bobbing just outside the hatch, tethered to the hull.
“You board first,” Snake Eye hissed, releasing his hold on the boy. “Seat yourself amidships between the oarlocks, facing the stern. I’ll be in the bow with a pistol aimed at the back of yer head, in case you get any fancy ideas.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Nick said, grabbing the painter and pulling the narrow-beamed little gig close enough that he might board it. He stepped down into it, felt it rock dangerously, got seated, and picked up the oar handles. He tensed his muscles and released them, feeling the tension wash out of him. He was ready. He knew this would be his one and only chance.
