That changed things. Scarlett wasn’t about to let them take pot shots at her stern and called a conference with her mates and sailing master.
“By morning, they will be able to hit us with that gun,” she said as the gun banged again, “we need to lose them or turn the tables on them, any suggestions?”
Daniel was looking at the sky and sniffing the air.
“I think we are in for some rain.”
“Wonderful,” Scarlett snapped sarcastically, “we can refill a barrel or two.”
“Well, we could but there isn’t a moon tonight and the clouds will cover the stars. It will be as black as pitch for the first time since we started the crossing,” Daniel replied in the manner of a teacher to his pupil.
Scarlett suddenly got what he was leading to.
“We could lose them in the dark!”
“Or we could let them pass and be behind them in the morning,” Steven said.
They hadn’t been running lights at night since they turned East so the dark would be their friend. Several plans were discussed.
They could sail a box course but doing that with just a compass and no stars as a reference wasn’t guaranteed to find them back where they expected to be in the morning.
They could simply stop and let the Spanish sail past them but that ran the risk they would be spotted and if he did sail past them how far ahead would he be?
They could sail out to the South or North then stop and try and pick up the Spaniard in the morning.
In the end, they decided to sail north for thirty minutes then reduce sail and turn back to the East. This way, the Santa Sabina should be in sight at daylight, albeit away on their starboard side and well ahead.
They waited until it was fully dark then made their turn, maintained that course for a half an hour then turned back to their original course and reduced sail so they were only logging eight knots or so.
Dawn approached and Steven sent lookouts up into the tops and just as a precaution Scarlett had the ship go to quarters, quietly. The sky was still overcast, and dawn arrived as a slow brightening without the sun breaking through. They looked for the Santa Sabine and found her.
A couple of cables ahead and a mile off their starboard bow.
“That man,” Scarlett said, referring to the Spanish captain, “is reading our minds.” Then ordered, “let’s get this over with, steer straight for him! Ready the bow guns!”
It was debatable which of them had the wind gauge, but Scarlett didn’t care. She put her faith in her gunners and her men when it came to a hand to hand fight.
On the Santa Sabine, the captain looked across at the Fox as the lookout hailed and saw them turn towards him. On the deck, Moineau looked at him with hatred in his heart, the bastard had recalled the pinnace, his ship, transferred the crew back on to the Santa Sabine to make up for some of those that had been killed then burnt it! Now, he was looking for vengeance.
Scarlett held her fire until they were five hundred yards from the other ship and both of the big guns scored hits near his waterline. Bow on, they were a small target and the Spanish responded with a broadside that tore up the sea either side of them, put a couple of holes in their sails but did little other damage.
At three hundred yards, the Fox turned and paralleled the Santa Sabine, reducing sail to topsails only to match her speed and fired a broadside. They were aiming between wind and water and star shaped holes appeared all along the side of the big Spaniard as the shots ripped home.
The Spaniard answered and this time, Scarlett felt the hull shudder as the shot hit home. Men screamed as they were wounded, and Leaping Fawn shot out of the hatch to the lower decks panic on her face. Scarlett didn’t hesitate and punched her on the jaw, knocking her senseless.
“Get her below and restrain her,” she told one of the surgeon’s mates that was waiting for work.
The fight continued and Scarlett noted that both ships were reloading and firing at roughly the same speed. She needed to do something as they weren’t likely to win a straight pounding match.
Scarlett thought hard as her guns fired again and shortly after the deck jumped as the Spanish replied. She could hardly see the other ship as with the wind on their stern, which was being flattened by the guns, the smoke wasn’t clearing very quickly at all.
“Steven, after the next broadside back sails, be ready for a sharp turn to starboard and prepare the larboard battery,” she ordered, hoping there would be enough wind left to do what she wanted, then to Jim at the wheel, “as soon as they back sales I want you to turn us across her stern.”
It was the longest minute of her life, but the guns spoke again almost completely obscuring the other ship. Steven immediately roared out the order, the ship slowed and Jim swung the wheel with all his might, Scarlett joined him and the bow started to turn.
Steven was watching the Santa Sabina carefully and as soon as their stern was level with their bow, he called for the sails to be reset and angled to help push the bow around. It was an accomplished piece of seamanship and it caught the Spanish completely off guard.
They passed within fifty feet of the Santa Sabina’s stern and could easily read the name. Their cannon roared and the stern windows and fancy gingerbread work were shattered. The balls careened through the gun decks causing havoc, but the Spaniard had started to turn to starboard and the effect was reduced by the angle.
After they passed the stern, the big ship completed her turn to bring them parallel again and served them another broadside. Their previously undamaged larboard side sprouted a new set of holes.
On the Santa Sabina, it was organised chaos. The gun crews were loading and firing as fast as they could, and the mates were screaming orders. The pressed buccaneers were forgotten and Moineau gathered a small group of his men,
“It’s time to avenge the Fleur,” he said, referring to their ship, “we will take the powder room.”
He led the men down the stairs, killing the soldier who stood on guard, relying on speed to get them down to the powder room before the alarm was raised. Any powder boys or crew carrying up powder were ruthlessly hacked down and they left a trail of bodies behind them, the powder spilled.
The first that Captain de Quinta knew was when one gun after another fell silent. He rushed down the stairs of the quarterdeck.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded from the lieutenant in charge of the upper battery.
“The French have taken over the powder room sir. We have run out of cartridges.”
“Well, get it back!” he screamed at him as shot tore through the side from the English ship’s latest broadside.
The lieutenant shrank back but had to hold his ground as he reported,
“We have tried, mon Capitan, but the corridor is narrow, and we can only send one man forward at a time. We cannot use guns for fear of igniting the store. The French say they will blow the ship up rather than surrender.”
Scarlett noticed the Santa Sabina stopped firing and after serving her two more broadsides, called for her guns to ceasefire. An easy peace settled over the ocean. The two ships sailed slowly forward, making enough headway to maintain steerage.
“What do you think is going on?” Scarlett asked Steven as they scanned the other ship’s deck with their telescopes. The guns were pulled back, but the ports stayed open. There didn’t seem to be any officers on the quarterdeck.
“I don’t know, but it’s our chance to finish them,” Steven replied.
“Load with chain. Take down her rigging!” Scarlett ordered.
Two minutes later, the broadside roared out and at a range of just one-hundred yards it was devastating. There was still no reply, so they let them have another one. The main topmast crashed to the deck, the mizzen assumed a slightly drunken list forward, and the few sails they had set were shredded. They were dead in the water.
“Ceasefire!” Steven ordered. “Heave to!”
“Ahoy, the Santa Sabina!” he shouted through a speaking t
rumpet. “Will you surrender?”
There was no answer. The sailors just stood on the deck as if they were waiting for something.
“Do you think they are up to something?” Scarlett asked, suspecting a trap.
“I don’t know,” Steven asked, “let’s wait and see what happens next.”
“Load the upper deck guns with grape,” Scarlett ordered, “We might want to board,”
“We could just leave them here,” Steven suggested, “we would be miles away by the time they get that lot sorted.”
“I don’t want to leave an enemy behind us, they will either strike or I will sink them,” Scarlett replied.
Steven called Archie Dawson over,
“Hail them and tell them to strike or we will sink them,”
Archie did as they were told and a sailor shouted an answer back. Archie looked bemused.
“He said the captain is below and he will send him a message and please not to do anything until he gets back.”
“What the hell is going on over there?” Steven wondered.
De Quinta was totally frustrated. His powder room was in the hands of a small group of French buccaneers. He couldn’t recapture it without risking them touching off the magazine and blowing them all to hell. He tried negotiating,
“Captain Moineau, what is it you want? The English have disabled us and say they will sink us if we do not surrender.”
“You double crossing bastards are getting all you deserve. You shouldn’t have burnt my ship,” replied Moineau, “you will have to surrender and face the Fox or I will blow us all up or she will sink us. Either way, I have my revenge.”
“You would kill yourself to get your revenge on us?” De quinta asked astonished.
“You left us with nothing. It’s only fair we leave you with the same,” laughed Moineau.
De Quinta felt despair, anger, overwhelming sadness all at the same time. His career was over.
The captain appeared on the Santa Sabina’s quarter deck and stood for a long moment looking up at his rigging. He looked across at Scarlett and bowed, then walked to the lanyard that their flag was attached to and lowered it. He folded the flag and looked out to sea for a long moment, then pulled a pistol, placed it to the side of his head and fired.
“Jesus, he took it badly,” Jim quipped as the man slumped to the deck.
Scarlett shrugged. “Saved me killing him. Prepare a boarding party and prize crew. Put Bill in charge.”
The Spanish gave them no trouble. They had lost a third of their crew wounded or killed and knew Scarlett’s reputation. Moineau and his men put themselves forward to join the Fox and Moineau was brought across to meet Scarlett with the Spanish first lieutenant.
They came aboard to the sound of hammers and saws as the crew started repairing the damage the ship had taken.
“Take him forward and guard him,” Scarlett told Eneka, “I want to talk to the Spaniard first.”
She noticed Moineau looked nervous and seemed to want to talk to her first but Eneka took his arm and walked him down to the mainmast.
“Now tell me what went on and why you stopped firing when you could still have won.”
The Lieutenant told her everything he knew, how they knew where she would be, the betrayal of the buccaneers, the damage in the first encounter and finally the buccaneer’s revenge.
Scarlett looked at the dead lined up on her deck. Killed because some greedy bastard thought he could cash in on her success.
She thanked the Lieutenant and asked him to give his captain a Christian burial. He asked that he be allowed to take the body home for burial in his family crypt. It was what he would have wanted, and they had several casks of brandy, one of which could be used to preserve him.
Scarlett didn’t ask what he would tell the man’s family or his priest. She guessed that he was killed in action. She dismissed the man and sent him back over to the other ship.
“Round up the buccaneers,” she sighed, “bring them together on the main deck.” She was tired and fed up with death at that moment. When the men were gathered, she stood at the rail of the quarterdeck, Steven translated,
“You are sheep,” she announced, “you were led by your captain to betray the buccaneer code, and you followed. That makes you as guilty as he is.” She looked at them and saw fear and defiance in equal measure.
“Then you were betrayed by the Spanish and pressed into their ships. They burnt your ship when they had no further use for it so you sought revenge and betrayed them, allowing us to capture their ship. That has in some measure balanced the account.”
She saw hope in their faces.
“Take the captain and keel haul him when we get under way.” Moineau was dragged away screaming he wanted to be heard, but she ignored him. “The rest of you will be shown mercy.”
Smiles came on their faces and looks of relief. Scarlett nodded to Steven,
“A quick death.”
Men stepped forward armed with pistols and the buccaneers were lined up along the side facing out to sea. Twenty-two shots rang out and twenty-two bodies fell into the sea.
A cable was lowered over the bow and brought back to behind the foremast. Moineau’s hands were tied to one end and his feet the other completing the loop. He was lowered over the side, and the rope tied off so he hung halfway down the hull waiting for his fate.
It took three days to repair both ships with the help of the Spanish crew. They were lucky that the weather stayed fair, but the sky was dark behind them as they made way.
They gave Moineau water by means of a sponge on a stick to keep him alive, but he was in a poor state when his sentence was delivered just after they made way. He was lowered down the side until he was under water then men pulled on the other end of the rope to drag him under the keel. The bottom was covered in razor sharp barnacles which cut his skin and by the time he came up the other side he was lacerated from head to foot. He was, astonishingly, still alive, so they dragged him back under to the other side.
The blood in the water from the battle and the executed men attracted the attention of some big White Tipped Oceanic sharks who hung around hoping for another snack. They took the bleeding body to be a gift of food and a pair of them seized it, shaking their heads until chunks were ripped off and what was left broke in two.
On the deck, the pulling crew staggered back as the rope went slack.
“He be cut in two!” a crewman reported as he peered over the side. At that moment, a shark came up out of the water and seized the upper half of the corpse that was still hanging by its wrists and took off with its prize before the other sharks could steal it. The men jumped back as the rope sped out, pulled by the powerful fish. The other end, with the legs attached, whipped up the side, across the deck and disappeared into the distance.
“Well, you don’t see that every day,” commented Paul to no one in particular, then looked up to where the Pelican sat on the main spar, watching him.
The punishment of the buccaneers didn’t go unnoticed on the Santa Sabina and ensured that any of the Spanish crew that was allowed on deck for exercise behaved themselves, which made Bill’s job easier. He still had to cope with a pretty badly damaged ship but at least he didn’t have to worry about the Spanish trying to take it back with the Fox on station.
They still had about three thousand miles to go before they saw the English coast and if all went well that would take two to three weeks.
Chapter 21: Poseidon’s due
The black band of cloud behind them was catching them up and there was another bank of cloud that was an ugly purple colour to the South, which had lightning playing along its forward edge. Daniel was not so concerned with the Southern storm as even though it looked denser and more concentrated it looked like it was paralleling them and as long as it stayed on the horizon, he was happy.
The storm coming up behind prompted a flurry of activity on both ships as storm sails were prepared and rigging checked. The Santa Sabina’s foremast
was a concern and Bill had extra stays rigged to try and support it. Steven had every piece of rigging checked and rechecked, every block greased and everything that could move tied down. He also mounted preventer stays and fitted chains to the yards to prevent them falling.
Storm sheets were tied across the hatch covers and batons hammered into place to secure them, assister ropes fitted to the steering gear, and safety ropes strung. They were as ready as they could be.
The swirling mass of cloud steadily caught up with them and sheet lightning flicked across the sky. It got darker, and even though it was mid-afternoon, it felt like night. The wind swung, coming more from the South and veering rapidly, the waves got bigger and bigger running under the two ships from astern, lifting them up until they tipped backward as the wave passed beneath them and seemed to slide down the back side.
The helmsmen, two on the Fox’s wheel and four on the bigger Santa Sabina’s double wheel had to fight hard to keep the wind and waves behind them for if they got beam on, they were surely doomed. The wind increased and Steven reduced sail even more, taking in the royals completely and trusting to triple reefed topsails only. Even then, the mast strained and groaned with each gust and the rigging hummed a deep throbbing tune as it was stretched to the limit.
Leaping Fawn was terrified and buried herself in her cot, refusing to come out. Elvira watched her scornfully from her perch, swaying easily with the motion occasionally having to raise a wing to balance.
Down in the carpenter’s quarters, young Ernest thought he would die. He had never been so sick in all his short life and every lurch, roll, and yaw the ship made was a living nightmare.
The wind increased even more, and Steven called for the topsails to be taken in, the topmen ran up the rigging to fight the heaving canvas into its gaskets. Hanging on for grim death as the mast swung from the end of one roll to another.
Paul Horscraft was one of those men and was running up the ratlines when he was confronted by the pelican which had perched in his way. He shooed at it to make it move but it just stayed there pecking at him if he got too close. He tried to go around it, but it shuffled across and stopped him.
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