Blacksouls

by Nicole Castroman

  “The chest belongs to my betrothed,” Teach said tightly.

  Murrell’s eyes widened. “Waiting for you back in England, is she?”

  Unwilling to let the captain know the truth, Teach gave a short nod. Teach would never forget the last time he’d seen Anne in Bristol. He’d asked her to go into town with him, but she’d refused. He’d kissed her, a kiss that still haunted his dreams. By the time he’d returned to his father’s house, she was gone.

  Every time Teach thought about her, it drove him mad not knowing how Anne fared. Was she frightened? Did she suffer from seasickness? Did her fellow passengers leave her in peace? It was the uncertainty of her situation that caused Teach the most pain. He would withstand a hundred lashes if only he could be sure that she was safe.

  Murrell opened his mouth once more, but a cry from overhead arrested everyone’s attention.

  “Sails ho!”

  A murmur went up around the deck as sailors lined along the rails. They’d been too preoccupied with Matthew’s whipping to keep a proper lookout.

  “I spy three ships, Captain. Two sailing portside, the other to starboard.”

  Captain Murrell held out his hand for the spyglass at Teach’s waist. Now that young Matthew was out of harm’s way, Teach slapped it into Murrell’s outstretched palm, wishing he could break it over the captain’s head.

  “They’re most likely English or French,” Murrell said, studying the distant ships. “It’s to be expected. This is one of the busiest shipping lanes in the Atlantic.”

  “Aye, but we’re still a good distance from Nassau. They could be Spanish,” Teach said. It was no secret that Spain struggled to maintain their stronghold in the Caribbean. The battle for dominance was fierce.

  Murrell’s head whipped around. “We’re too far from the Spanish main. They wouldn’t attack us here. They could be Dutch.”

  In the end, it didn’t truly matter what flags the two ships flew. Their appearance meant trouble.

  For the hundredth time, Teach wondered how Murrell had ever secured his post as captain of the Deliverance. He was a skilled navigator, with an uncanny ability to sail close to the wind on a course that led him directly to his destination. But his conceit often got in the way of his logic. Instead of inspiring his crew’s respect, Murrell resorted to violence and fear to maintain control. “Sir, the Deliverance is one of the largest merchant ships ever built, and this is its maiden voyage. We’ve been a target since we left port,” Teach said, unable to control the disdain in his voice. Teach was surprised they hadn’t been attacked before now.

  Frowning, Murrell seemed to consider Teach’s words before glancing around at his crew. When they’d left Bristol, the men had stood straight and eager, most of them former soldiers and proud to be chosen for such a grand vessel. But after four weeks under Murrell’s leadership, they were now skittish and tense, never sure when they would be on the receiving end of the captain’s brutal tirades.

  “Ready the ship,” Murrell said.

  “For what, exactly, sir?” Teach asked, studying the captain. If the vessels were friendly, there was no need to ready the Deliverance for anything. Did the captain wish them to fight? If so, then it was Murrell’s job to rally the men. He needed to give the final order. Teach had learned that to assume anything under Murrell’s command was a grave mistake. Although it had been three weeks, the wounds on Teach’s back had not fully healed. He’d carry the scars for the rest of his life.

  “We’ll try to outrun them,” Murrell said dismissively.

  “That won’t work. The Deliverance is too large and sits too low in the water,” Teach said.

  Captain Murrell flushed a dull shade of red. “Then we’ll throw some of the cargo overboard. And some of the cannons if we need to.”

  “We can’t outrun them, Captain. They’re most likely in sloops that are swifter and more maneuverable than we are.” Teach’s gut told him a fight was coming. Although they were still some distance away, the other ships were clearly smaller. They had most likely spotted the Deliverance some time ago and were now giving chase.

  Murrell pursed his lips. His eyes traveled once more over the crew, as if gauging their loyalty, before coming to rest on Teach. The anger in his eyes was palpable. “Ready the ship for battle.”

  Teach nodded. “We’ll need all hands on deck, sir. That includes the men locked in the hold.”

  Murrell glared at Teach. There was a strained silence as the two men regarded each other. “Fine. Let them out.” Turning, the captain stalked away, leaving Teach and the rest of the men to stare after his departing back.

  • • •

  The gun crew on the Deliverance rushed to roll the cannons into position in their lower deck ports, stacking twelve-pounders by their sides. Above, others raced to secure ropes and check the masts and mainsails.

  The two men Captain Murrell had locked in the hold joined in the activity, but the four days they’d spent below in the cramped quarters had taken their toll, especially on Teach’s friend, John. Built with a broad back and stout legs, John winced every time he moved.

  Teach had met John the previous year on board one of Andrew Barrett’s merchant ships. The two had been fast friends ever since. It was John who had help secure Teach’s position on board the Deliverance by bribing the original first mate to abandon the voyage, and Teach was grateful for John’s presence.

  “Murrell’s addled,” John muttered to Teach as he readied his flintlock pistol. “Punishing us for a game of dice. How else does the fool expect us to spend our time? Perfecting our rope work?”

  Cleaning his own firearm, Teach shook his head. “He didn’t lock you away because of the game. It’s because you and Thurston came to blows.”

  John scowled. “We meant no harm.”

  “That’s not how it looked to the rest of us,” Teach said. Jack Thurston was built much like John. Thurston had accused John of cheating at the game. Naturally, John hadn’t taken kindly to the insult, and the pair had seemed like two bulls charging at each other.

  “I s’pose I should be glad he didn’t have me whipped. How’s young Matthew?” John asked.

  “He’ll live. But it will take several days for him to heal,” Teach said, his voice grim.

  “How are you faring?”

  The tightness across Teach’s back was lessening as his own wounds healed. “I’m fine.”

  “You should be in control of this ship. Not that fool captain.”

  “Careful what you say, John. That smacks of mutiny,” Teach warned in an undertone, glancing over his shoulder. After years of living under his father’s control, Teach was less than heartened to find himself under the command of a tyrant even worse than his father.

  John followed Teach’s gaze.

  At the moment, Murrell was berating the helmsman for the direction he had chosen. “I don’t care if they are leeward. I want you to stay on course.”

  John rolled his eyes. “The man’s daft. He doesn’t know the first thing about fighting.”

  “We have no choice. Those ships are going to attack.”

  “Aye, and when they do, he won’t have any idea how to respond.”

  “Then it will be up to us to make sure they don’t board us.” During his year at sea, Teach had developed some skills with the saber, but he wouldn’t stand a chance in a close fight with more experienced swordsmen. He simply relied on his size to intimidate any opponents.

  “Don’t know if we can stop them. We’ll be exposed to their shot between wind and water, and with Murrell leading us, we won’t stand a chance.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  John looked at Teach. “How do you know?”

  “Because I know this ship. And I have a plan.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Anne

  As the day progressed, the sun arched across the sky, and the Providence’s shadow grew on the sea. In the distance, the two smaller vessels veered toward the larger one. Now that the Providence was no longer a targ
et, the crew went about their usual tasks. The able seamen tended to worn or split riggings. The ordinary seamen were charged with coiling rope or touching up tar to prevent further leaking, while the green hands were left to swab the deck.

  Only Anne stood immobile, riveted to the spot, as she witnessed a hunt on the open water, the sight before her giving proof to her fears

  “I’ve never been on a ship that grand before,” Cara muttered, coming up to her side.

  Anne had. Even from this distance, the familiar outline of the Deliverance was unmistakable. When she’d first recognized it, her heart had fluttered with hope. It was like looking at an old friend, a tie to her past. And there was a very real possibility that Teach could be on it.

  But when the two ships had changed their course and sailed toward it, that hope had turned to dread.

  “We have to do something,” Anne said, gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white. “We can’t just sit by and let them attack.”

  “We don’t know for sure that’s what they’re going to do,” Cara said.

  Anne couldn’t help the scornful look she threw at her friend. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s one of the largest vessels in the world. Do you think those ships are planning on escorting it into port?”

  Cara flushed, and Anne immediately felt guilty. If it hadn’t been for Cara’s friendship and Coyle’s protection, Anne could have suffered a much harsher voyage than the one she’d endured.

  “I’m sorry, Cara. I didn’t mean to be cruel. It’s just . . . there are people from Bristol on the Deliverance. It’s strange to think I might know one of them.” Just mentioning the name of her hometown caused Anne’s throat to tighten, and she swallowed with difficulty. Although she hadn’t left under the best of circumstances, she had grown up in the English port. It was all she’d known for the past sixteen years, and until her father’s death, she’d been content there, secure in her mother’s love. “I can’t stand the thought of people suffering, or worse, dying, if we don’t come to their aid.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Speak with the captain.”

  Cara shook her head. “My father always said it’s not wise to quarrel with the boatman when you’re crossing the river.”

  “Wise words, I’m sure, but this is no river. And if our roles were reversed, wouldn’t you want the people on that other ship to come to our aid?” Anne could tell from the look in Cara’s eyes that she’d struck a nerve.

  “All right. But let me go get Coyle.”

  “I can’t wait. It might be too late already.”

  “But—”

  Anne placed a hand on Cara’s arm. “Let your brother sleep, Cara. He needs the rest. I know what to say to the captain. Trust me.” Turning, Anne lifted her skirts, but Cara stopped her.

  “Then I’m coming with you. It wouldn’t be right for you to face him alone.”

  Nodding, Anne allowed her friend to follow her down the dank stairway and along the dark hall to the captain’s cabin. She preferred to spend as much time as possible on deck, for the cramped and damp quarters below felt like a tomb.

  Knocking on the door, Anne waited until Captain Oxley called out for them to enter. His eyes widened when he saw the two girls. Anne could understand his surprise. Aside from a few exchanges in the last five weeks, neither the captain nor Anne had gone out of their way to speak to each other.

  An older, severe man, Oxley was balding on top with the rest of his hair pulled back in a queue. He was slender of frame and by the look of his tanned face, a seasoned sailor.

  “Yes?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Captain, but I was wondering what you intended to do about those two ships,” Anne said, fighting the urge to squirm beneath his direct gaze. His small cabin was cluttered, the papers on his desk untidily stacked, and books littered the floor.

  “I hadn’t planned to do anything.”

  “But, sir, they’re going to attack that other ship.”

  “Better them than us,” was his deliberate response.

  Anne went hot and cold at the same time, gasping at his words. “How can you say that? There are passengers on board, possibly women and children.”

  “We have women and children on board our ship as well. Do you think that just because those people paid more money for their passage on the Deliverance, their lives are worth more than the poor souls on this ship, yourself included?” It was clear Oxley had heard of the large merchantman. He’d recognized it from this distance as well.

  “No, but if we don’t do something, they’ll—”

  Captain Oxley snorted. “Look around you. You’ve been on the Providence long enough to know its condition. Do you think it could handle a hit from a cannonball?”

  Although a single cannonball would not likely sink the Providence, Anne knew it wouldn’t take much more to send the ship to the bottom of the ocean. “It might not come to that. If they see us coming to the aid of the Deliverance, perhaps they’ll change course.”

  “It’s not my job to come to anyone’s aid. I’m paid to deliver my passengers and cargo.”

  Anne refused to give up. “But the owner of the Deliverance is one of the wealthiest men in Bristol. I’m sure Richard Drummond would pay you handsomely for any support you could extend.”

  “He can’t pay me if I’m not alive to collect. I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”

  “How can you say that? People will die!”

  Captain Oxley stood up and leaned forward on the desk. “Do you think they would come to our aid if our roles were reversed?”

  “They just might,” Cara said.

  “You’re wrong, Miss Flynn. I know the captain of that ship. Murrell’s a heartless bastard who cares more for his own skin than anyone else’s.”

  Shaking with frustration and anger, Anne glared at Captain Oxley. “The same might be said of you,” she said, ignoring Cara’s sharply indrawn breath.

  “You’re wrong, Miss Barrett. I care a great deal for my men, which is why I won’t drag them into a fight we have no hope of winning. I have no desire to send them to their deaths.”

  “A brave man dies only once. A coward dies a hundred times,” Anne said, lifting her chin.

  “Anne!” Cara interjected, but Oxley raised his hand, his face a dull red.

  “You may call me what you like, but my main concern is to see that we make it safely to port.” He strode toward the door and pulled it open. “And I will not discuss the running of my ship with a woman. If you don’t wish to be confined to your cabin, I suggest you leave now.”

  Feeling heat rise to her own cheeks, Anne refused to move.

  Cara touched her arm. “Anne, please.”

  Struggling to control her fury, Anne gave the captain one last withering look before stalking out of the cabin.

  CHAPTER 4

  Teach

  Captain Murrell’s expression grew progressively more alarmed as the day wore on, and his skin took on an ashen hue beneath his tan. He combed his hands through his receding hairline repeatedly. Teach was convinced Murrell would be bald by the end of the day.

  Murrell was a coward. Teach could easily picture him meeting Richard Drummond and regaling him with stories of grandeur about his life at sea. If only Teach’s father could see the man he’d chosen for the Deliverance’s maiden voyage. Drummond had gone to the trouble of hiring soldiers to sail his precious ship, but somehow he’d failed to provide a fit leader.

  Teach wished the captain would retire to his cabin like the rest of the wealthy passengers, but Murrell roved the deck like a squawking rooster, his arms flailing while he shouted commands. Peter trailed after him, like a silent shadow following a storm. At first Teach had done his best to ignore what the captain was saying, but the more directions he gave, the more Teach feared they would lose their lives before they ever reached land. The thought of leaving Anne alone in the world was incentive enough for Teach to take action.

  Mos
t of the crew now looked to Teach once Murrell and Peter stalked away. Teach gave them a slight nod if they were to indeed follow the captain’s orders or he would give them brief instructions once the older man was out of earshot. Murrell was too agitated to make sure if his directions were carried out or not.

  Teach’s behavior was a criminal act, but there was no other option. He’d tried to reason with the captain, but Murrell wouldn’t heed anyone’s advice. Murrell had made enemies of almost everyone on board the Deliverance, and very few would think to speak against Teach. They seemed to understand that now was not the time to switch direction or lower half of the sails. Teach intended to meet the other ships head-on and not show any signs of weakness or vulnerability.

  “What do you make of the ships?” John asked, standing at Teach’s side as Teach viewed the approaching vessels through a spyglass.

  “The smaller one has eight cannons, all of them six pounders. I count twelve cannons on the larger one.”

  John whistled beneath his breath. “They’ve come looking for a fight.”

  Teach lowered the spyglass and attached it to his belt. From a distance he could see men scurrying back and forth across the decks of the two approaching ships. Unconsciously, he reached for the thin leather cords hanging around his neck. They were attached to a small leather pouch containing the ring he’d intended to give to Anne. Teach kept it with him at all times, often toying with the twine. “We can’t outmaneuver them; they’re too small. But they won’t try to sink us. They want our cargo.”

  “They might not want to sink us, but I’ll wager they’d be only too happy to take out some of our crew.”

  “We’ll have to do our best to stop them, then, won’t we?”

  Jack Thurston approached, his expression harried. “Teach, we need you belowdecks.”

  Teach frowned. Jack never called him Teach. He’d given Teach the nickname Blackbeard when he first boarded the Deliverance. “What’s wrong?”