Edward could hear nothing save the sound of his own hot breath, while all thoughts of the fight ahead fell to the ether. The feeling of the wood scraping his hands, the coarse grains grinding against his palm. The metal bilge hoops cool from the chilly hold pressed into his shoulder. His arms and legs stretched and strained with the exercise, growing into an almost stabbing pain as the time passed. Before he knew it, all the barrels were gone, and the raw stench of spices with it.
He glanced around at the other four men, who were carrying two barrels in pairs. His fatigue and pain hit him all at once, and he had to lean against the hull. He caught his breath in deep swells of his chest, panting tiredly. He arched his back and it cracked, sending a wave of relief through him, though it was only temporary. He brought a shaking, aching hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His rough fingers scratched against his skin as the beads of water and salt were pulled together. He flung the sweat to the damp floorboards of the hold.
He pushed himself from the hull and went to the hold ladder. He climbed up it, following the last barrel on its track between the brigade of men. He went up to the gun deck, then back to the weather deck all the way up to see it tossed into the sea.
The sealed barrel fell into the water and floated, bobbing in the water as the Queen Anne's Revenge passed it by. Down the port stern, Edward could see a hundred barrels or so in a line extending so far back he wasn't able to see them all.
Off centre of the abandoned cargo, Edward could see the galleon, and he knew they were approaching the vessel's cannon range. The galleon was closing in on them, its presence even more overwhelming than before.
To the bow, on Edward's right, the Fortune was already heading north, and well out of the way of danger. He was glad for that fact at least.
"Speed?" he called.
Christina and Anne were on the bow still, and they looked to have been routinely checking the speed. Anne tossed the chip log into the water; the wooden piece fell in and pulled along the rope it was attached to. When it hit the sea, Christina turned over a small hourglass, watching intently as the sand fall through the small opening in the middle. After a half-minute, the last grains fell through.
"Time!" she called.
Anne grabbed the rope which the chip log had been pulling, taking note of each knot that had passed. "Ten knots!" she shouted.
Edward pounded his fist against the railing. That's not enough! He turned around to his crew. Many of them were still working, holding the rigging steady, making small adjustments here and there to try to improve their speed. Some looked at their captain, waiting to see what he was going to say.
"Men, secure the halyards. Brace for broadside," he said.
The crew dropping the cargo passed the order down the line so they could finish with what they had. The main sailors tied down the ropes holding the sails onto the fife rails at the masts, or along the sides of the ship to keep the sails in place.
Anne pulled in the chip log, and wrapped the rope up. She went over to Edward. "We did everything we could. If luck is on our side, she'll only be in position for half a broadside."
"And if luck is on their side, even half their broadside is enough to sink us, should it hit below the water-line," he said.
They shared a pensive, wary look. Though their lives were on the line, they had been through many similar situations in the past. They could see in each other the fear buried deep within, the fear that deadens with time and is mixed with anger and tenacity. Edward wasn't about to give up, and from that look in her eyes, Anne wasn't either.
The crew were piling bags filled with sand from the bow storage cabin across the starboard side of the weather deck. With the entire crew working, in a few short minutes they had stacked the bags high enough to crouch behind. They worked to stack more around the stairs leading to the quarterdeck and the stern, as the blast was most likely to hit there.
Edward and Anne checked the rigging to ensure the sails would hold in place while the crew were busy. They tugged and pulled on the lines, testing the knots and the location of the rope. Once satisfied, they moved behind the line of sandbags and knelt down.
Edward glanced around to the ship and the men huddled together behind the makeshift barrier. These men had the same, weathered fear in their eyes, preparing for the worst but ready to spit in God's eye for letting them die should it happen.
Edward tried to find a vantage point which would provide him sight of the galleon, but at their angle it was impossible. The quarterdeck and stern were blocking his view. Judging from where the ship last was, it was only a matter of minutes now.
He looked at his men once more, their tense bodies and light whispers so vastly different from their normal boisterous and easy-going nature. But there was more to it than this moment in time, and he could tell the mood aboard his ship was shifting. The betrayals, the battles, and the injuries were piling on top of one another, and it wasn't just Edward who'd paid the toll.
The sound of thunder rippled over the ship, shaking the wooden beams and planks in its wake. The tremor ran up Edward's feet, rattling his bones as it passed over him. He braced himself.
"Incoming!" he shouted.
The sound of the cannons was followed by a full two seconds of eerie silence, a moment of pure waiting. The cannonballs came and went in a flash, ripping through the wood and blowing holes through the hull of Edward's ship. The wooden beams and planks broke apart with violent snaps as the iron rained down on them.
As the iron crashed through the stern and the railings and the doors, it carried the pieces of its destruction with it. Wood, glass from the windows, and bits of metal flew in the wake of the cannonballs.
The deadly iron hit the sandbags, and the pieces of the ship followed immediately afterwards. Dozens of sandbags exploded from the impact of the cannonballs, flung away from the blast. Sand joined the other pieces of the Queen Anne's Revenge to pepper the crew, once a part of their home, now another weapon against them.
Edward felt sudden pain on his face, shoulder, and chest. As soon as he was able to feel the pain, and the warm blood seeping from his wounds, he noticed the attack was over. It had all happened so quickly he hadn't even had time to think.
He rose on unsteady feet, glancing at the horrors before him. Before he could take it in, movement caught his eye. He looked up to see one of the main mast's halyards loose, pulling away from its belaying pin on the fife rail.
Without thought, Edward jumped on top of the sandbags still intact and leapt into the air. He stretched out his hand to grab the rope, which was rapidly slipping from its confines. The sound of the scraping rope against the wood was the only thing Edward could hear at that moment. If that rope got loose, the mainsail would go loose, they would lose some speed, and it would mean another broadside would be able to reach them. The rope zipped passed the fife rail. Edward pushed his hand out farther, closing his fingers around the rope, and caught the end of it with the last inch to spare.
The force of the rope escaping the fife rail pulled Edward from his mid-jump up into the air. He swung forward on the rope over the port side of the ship. At the top of his arc, he looked over to see the galleon trying to turn back straight to pursue for another broadside. The next moment Edward swung back down towards the ship, but this time with the full tack pulled down from his weight. He slammed into the port side of the ship, and whatever was in his shoulder and chest sent a lancing pain through his body.
Edward took a few breaths, clenched his teeth, and climbed the rope back to the port side railing; he wrapped the rope around his arm, and pulled himself over the top. The pull of the heavy mainsail nearly toppled him as soon as his feet hit the sole, but he stuck his feet in and managed to get to the fife rail without incident. He fastened a halyard hitch around the fife rail and secured the mainsail once more.
He noticed the screams of the injured and the shouts of Herbert and the crew around him. Herbert was already back up to the quarterdeck, his face bloody but oth
erwise unharmed, and his wheelchair intact. Tala was beside him, barking to accompany his orders. He noticed Christina working the rigging with the other men to fix the sails and straighten their trajectory so they could outrun the three ships in time.
Anne and Pukuh were also uninjured, and helped with the foresails. Anne was shouting, but Edward couldn't hear what she was saying. He was just happy to see her safe.
Jack was diligently playing his music, trying to play above the din to inspire the crew to work faster with the beat he was playing. He could tell Jack had injured his hand, but the man played on regardless.
Edward looked at the destruction around him. Bits of his ship strewn about the deck, holes from the front of the quarterdeck out to the stern, broken railings, chips off the mast. Large iron balls, leftovers that couldn't make it through the whole ship, pitched and rolled with the movement of the Queen Anne's Revenge. Heavy, unwieldy things, far larger than could fit in any of their cannons, and a danger even without the speed behind them. This was worse than he had seen from several cannon broadsides in the past.
Crewmates had been struck in the legs, the arms, the chest, and the head. Legs had been torn off, arms split in twain, chests compacted, and heads…
Alexandre and Victoria, previously below deck, were now in the middle of the fray, tending to the injured and patching them up as best they could. Nassir was helping to carry the more severely wounded downstairs for the tough surgery ahead. The three were already covered in the blood of their allies, and the deck around their feet was running red.
Edward ran down below deck, dodging past Nassir and one of the crewmates who had lost his leg, and down to the crew cabin. He checked the stern and noticed a few holes, but nothing low enough to worry about, and then jumped into the hold hatch. It was nearly empty, with half the original number of boxes left, and a few dozen bags.
He scanned the hold, and when he found no cannonball holes in the hull he moved on to the bilge. The stench of the bilge was an order of magnitude worse than the hold had been before they'd removed the spices. Edward had to cover his nose and mouth to stop it from overwhelming him. He lay down and lowered his head into the bilge, not wanting to enter the filth if it wasn't necessary. He couldn't see well, having just come from above deck, so he listened for the sound of gushing water. After a few seconds, and satisfied he could hear nothing resembling a breach, he closed the bilge hatch and took a few deep breaths.
Edward searched for the source of the pain in his shoulder and chest, and found it to be a splinter and a nail embedded in his skin. The splinter was in the side of his chest, but wasn't deep and rather easy to remove. The nail, on the other hand, took some doing. He had to pry at it with sweaty fingers, which soon became slick with blood. He took hold of the tip of the nail, and with a shaky hand yanked the metal piece out. He dropped the bloody metal to the sole of the hold, and it hit the wood with a clang.
His shoulder wound seeped blood, and he had to clamp down his hand over the hole in a weak attempt to stop it up. He could still feel the vestiges of the metal nail in the hole in him, as if something was missing. A piece of him lost for a time, but one that would come back later—yet it still pained him.
Edward pulled himself up and returned to the weather deck. By the time he was up top, the wounded had been given aid, and three dead men were now covered by a sheet and placed at the front of the entrance to the stern cabin.
He went up to the quarterdeck, glancing over the side at the back of the ship. It appeared that the galleon had stopped giving chase, and the two sloops had turned back as well. Normally Edward would have some sense of pride at having escaped, but he only felt anger at the betrayal by the Spanish.
Friends of the Spanish. Edward spat over the side.
Edward walked over to the helm, examining the destruction that had been wrought. Their masts and sails were miraculously unscathed for the most part, but the stern decks were riddled with holes and pieces of the ship lay underfoot at every turn.
He looked out over the bow to see the Fortune furling her sails to slow and join with Queen Anne's Revenge. Now that the threat was gone, they could talk about what to do next, but it was clear in Edward's mind what he wanted to do.
As Edward approached the helm, Herbert asked, "No breaches?" Edward shook his head. Herbert seemed to look twice at Edward, then asked, "What now, Captain?" as if he sensed Edward's mood.
"Now…" Edward said, looking Herbert in the eyes. "Now, we burn them all."
16. Mementos of Weakness
"My boy, I tell you true, I am ever grateful for your insight and perceptiveness. You saved us once again," Roberts said with a boisterous laugh. He raised his cup in the air and then took a long drink from it.
Roberts and Edward were in the stern cabin of the Queen Anne's Revenge, talking about the recent events and what to do next. Most of the glass in the room had been shattered, the wood punctured with large holes, and the floor littered with their leftover splinters, but Edward had insisted on having the meeting there.
"If only I had noticed sooner, perhaps we would have escaped unscathed," Edward replied, and then he too took a drink from his cup.
"Nonsense. You acted as swiftly as any could be expected. Who would think we would have been betrayed? The Spanish seemed eager to work with us not a day before. None could spot the lie soon enough, so this was bound to happen."
Edward nodded. "I suppose you are right, but I don't believe he was lying the other day."
Roberts raised his brow. "Oh no?"
"You said yourself, none could spot his lie. Given our collective experience with liars, cheats, and tricksters, we certainly would have known."
"So, you believe Captain García was telling the truth?" Edward nodded. "Then what could have changed his position overnight?"
Edward shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "But I believe it to have something to do with the hooded man with him."
Roberts leaned back in his chair. "Ah, yes, the mystery man. Strange fellow, to be sure, but you think him to be the mastermind of this deception?"
"It seems the most likely. He was whispering in the captain's ear the entire time, but stopped after we confirmed who we were. He probably thought it best to let the captain tell us what we wanted to hear, and then later told the captain what they would do, or at the least advised him to change his mind."
"You may be correct," Roberts replied, swirling the drink in his hands.
The sea air swept in from outside of the holes in the cabin, preventing the room from becoming stuffy, as it was prone to do. The splash of the waves as the ship crashed against them and the shouts of the men outside came in loud and clear as well.
"I want you to continue ahead of us," Edward said.
Roberts tilted his head, and his lips curled. "Continue on… to what end?"
"To the end of our enemies. I want you to head to Providencia and proceed with our initial plan of sabotaging one of the ships."
Roberts glanced around. "And what will you and your men be doing?"
"We need to repair our ship, so we'll be travelling rather slowly. Also, there are some… renovations I believe need to happen if we are to survive on the sea any longer," Edward took another drink from his cup. "I want you to take some of my crew with you as well. They can help you so you can continue at speed during the night." Edward placed his cup on the broken table in the middle of the room. "If all goes well, we should be able to arrive a day behind you."
Roberts' mouth was a line, and he stared at Edward for a moment before placing his cup on the mangled table as well. "You are sure of this?"
"Currently, this is the best way to proceed. If the two sloops that were with the galleon earlier today join her, it would be an even match for Kenneth Locke. We need to cripple one of his ships, perhaps take it for ourselves, and we may be able to destroy all of them. The galleon, the sloops, and the pirates."
Roberts rose from his seat and extended his hand. Edward got up and took Ro
berts' hand, and the two gripped hard, testing each other's strength. After a moment of equal back and forth, they laughed amicably, and Roberts slapped Edward's shoulder.
"Until next we meet, then," he said.
"Until next we meet."
Roberts turned around to leave, and Edward made to follow. "Oh!" Edward blurted out. "Before I forget, the cargo… Herbert didn't have a chance to sell it and—"
Roberts held up his hand. "I watched the scene firsthand, Edward. I know the toll you paid. You will find another means to repay me, I am sure of it. Don't let it trouble you."
Edward smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Roberts. As always, you are a true friend."
Roberts waved his hand. "Do not mention it. You loan us your crew to aid in our revenge. What more could I ask for?"
Edward folded his arms. "Well, you are already asking for coin…"
Roberts burst out laughing. "You have me there."
Edward also chuckled, and the two left the stern cabin. Repairs were already underway the weather deck, and the sounds of hammers hitting nails and wood met their ears. Roberts' crew were working with Nassir and Edward's crew in repairs to the railings and the stern.
Edward and Roberts went up to the quarterdeck of the Queen Anne's Revenge to address the crew. After a moment of calling for their attention they ceased repairs, and Edward could explain their plan.
"Firstly, I want to thank the crew of the Fortune for your help in repairing the damage we received. With your help, our ship is already beginning to look like its former self." At that, Edward's crew hooted and hollered their agreement and thanks as well. "Roberts and I have conferred, and we think it best if you all move on to ensure our plans come to fruition. You'll be heading to Providencia ahead of us to sabotage one of the enemy ships, and when we meet with you again we will take the fight to Kenneth Locke and Walter Kennedy together!" Both crews shouted their enthusiasm to have this years-long story of revenge over and done with. "To ensure the Fortune arrives on time, I want twenty men to join them and help run their ship at night. Do I have any volunteers?"
Blackbeard's Justice (The Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 3) Page 20