Blackbeard's Justice (The Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 3)

by Jeremy McLean

  Anne raised her brow. "Roberts?"

  Edward nodded. "Possibly. If it is him, he's fighting against someone from Kenneth Locke's group, no doubt."

  "Unless he was caught by authorities in the area."

  "Either way, we're going to help him out."

  As the Revenge moved forward, the ships came into view. At first they were two dots, melded together on the horizon as small as a fly against the meeting of sea and sky. The minutes passed and the dots separated and became more distinct, eventually taking shape. Then, the shape took form, as a piece of clay, being molded before their eyes. They could see the separation of mast to sail, and sail to hull, each minute bringing new details into view.

  "Captain, the two ships be sloops," the mate in the crow's nest yelled down.

  Edward nodded to the man, and went back to watching from his post. He glanced at Anne. "It seems more and more likely to be Roberts. Prepare the men, Quartermaster. You're about to take control of your first battle."

  Anne looked at Edward with a wide grin. "Aye, Captain," she said before stepping forward to the quarterdeck railing. "All hands, prepare for battle!"

  The crew looked up at her, registered the order, many giving the briefest of smiles, and then shouted, "Aye, Aye!"

  The men charged with manning the small cannons on the top decks prepared their armaments, while others gathered muskets and powder to use. William went below deck, presumably to tell the gunners of the coming battle, and soon returned with weapons of his own.

  William stepped up to the quarterdeck and handed muskets to Anne and Edward, then went back to gather one for Christina and Herbert each before finally taking his own. The four held to their weapons, waiting for the ships to get closer.

  Now that they were facing a sloop and had two ships instead of one, the mood was distinctly different from the galleon flight. It was no longer a desperate hope and fear, but an itch to destroy the lesser opponent and regain their pride. As if by magic, the mood carried itself to each of the crewmates, though none exchanged words. It manifested in excited laughter, crazed eyes, and jumps in their steps.

  The faint sounds of battle sped across the ocean, and grew louder the closer they came—the loud roar of cannons, the sharp crack of guns, and the varied shouts of men's battle cries… or their death wails.

  Smoke billowed out from the sides of each ship, lingering for a brief moment before the wind swept it away. No matter how the wind tried, the smoke was replenished with each roar and crack.

  The ship closest to Queen Anne's Revenge straightened after their latest broadside and headed west south-west to try to flee.

  The ship trying to flee had two masts, while the other had three. Provided this wasn't a random battle they'd happened upon, the one fleeing was not the Fortune.

  "It's trying to escape," Edward commented.

  "Intercepting," Herbert said. "Beam reach!" he shouted before he turned the wheel to port so the ship headed north-west.

  "Beam reach!" William relayed.

  The crew changed the direction of the sails as they were now to be perpendicular to the wind blowing north north-east.

  Edward looked at the approach the other ship was taking. Where it was headed, it had to have its sails in a close reach or close-hauled, which was not an ideal position for escape. The enemy ship would try to head north, as long as Fortune didn't cut them off. Failing that, if they outran the Queen Anne's Revenge, they could try to swoop around, but it would be risky as they would be tacking against the wind, and Edward and Roberts could still follow them.

  We've got them, Edward thought.

  Over the next thirty minutes, the ships stayed their courses, with the Fortune heading west to circumvent their enemy if they tried to head north. The wind stayed mostly true, with some minor trimming needed to maintain a beam reach.

  The Queen Anne's Revenge was closing in on the enemy ship, on the side of which they could now see the name Gallant emblazoned. In a few minutes they would be in range to hit them.

  "Fire a warning shot," Anne said. "Let them know we're here for them."

  William nodded and shouted, "Chasers! Raking fire!"

  A few men manning cannons at the bow, remnants from the forecastle, acknowledged the order, and prepared their cannons to fire. After a moment, the sound of three blasts rang out from the bow, and three puffs of smoke erupted along with cannonballs.

  As expected, they landed well short of their mark, making three splashes into the sea far in front of them.

  In a fearful response, the Gallant changed direction, trying to switch to a northward bearing. They were hard-pressed to switch their heading, however, and lost much speed in the process.

  Herbert barely had to touch the wheel to switch them from going north-west to north. The change brought about the need to trim the sails further, putting them in a broad reach, the Queen Anne's Revenge's fastest position.

  The Gallant seemed to have forgotten about the Fortune, which was coming up beside them, and would be in line for a broadside in short order.

  After a ten-minute struggle, when they realised in full the situation they were in, the Gallant waved the white flag and furled their sails.

  Cowards, Edward thought.

  "Do not grow complacent, men," Anne shouted. "This could be some ruse."

  As the Gallant slowed, the Fortune made to match its trajectory and speed to board. The Queen Anne's Revenge was still behind the two faster ships, and so Herbert didn't give the order to furl the sails right away.

  Instead, as the Fortune was pulling up beside the Gallant on its starboard side, Herbert manoeuvred their ship over to the port side. Then he gave the order to furl the sails so they could slow to a stop beside the Gallant.

  Now that they were up close, Edward could see damage from battle all around the hull. Holes from cannonballs were scattered here and there, but not much harm had been done before they had arrived.

  Roberts wasted no time in having the two ships lashed together. Edward could see them dropping gangplanks and boarding, fully armed and taking the crewmates prisoner. They rounded up the crew to the waist of the ship, but Edward noticed Roberts was talking with the crew and searching for something or someone. After a moment, he called to his crewmates, and two answered by heading below deck.

  The Queen Anne's Revenge approached and the crew began tying the ships together as the Fortune had done. All the while, the gunners had their hands tightly gripped to their linstocks, ready to drop them into their cannons at a moment's notice.

  Edward pulled out a pistol from his belt and loaded it. He took his time pouring the black powder into the barrel, placing the cloth and the lead ball on top and ramming it into the shaft. As he finished, he headed over to the starboard side of the ship.

  Edward jumped over the railing of the ship over to the weather deck of the Gallant. He walked over to Roberts, who was standing off to the side near the quarterdeck.

  "Roberts, I'm glad we made it in time," Edward said.

  Roberts shook Edward's hand. "Well met, Edward. I too am glad you arrived when you did. It could have been a long, arduous endeavour without your assistance." Roberts glanced at the Queen Anne's Revenge. "I see you've completed your modifications to the ship. It looks like a whole new vessel."

  Edward glanced over his shoulder at his ship. "Aye, she's faster now as well. We might even be able to challenge you," he said.

  Roberts flashed a slight grin, but said nothing. Before Edward could say anything else, Roberts' crewmates returned to the weather deck with someone in tow.

  The man they were pushing and prodding along with their muskets was a lithe, average-looking man with light red hair and faded freckles across his cheeks.

  Roberts' crewmates dropped the man, whom Edward knew was the Walter Kennedy he had heard so much about, to his knees in front of the captains. He fell on his hands, but quickly righted himself on his knees as he cowered in fear in front of Edward and Roberts.

  Edward cocked
and primed the pistol in his hands, then turned it over to Roberts. "Time for justice, Roberts."

  Roberts looked at the pistol in his hands for a moment, and then pointed it at Kennedy. The look in Roberts' eyes was far more serious than Edward had ever seen before.

  Kennedy's eyes, on the other hand, were filled with fear and despair. "Please, Roberts," he said with a trembling voice. "I—"

  "Shut your mouth, Walter," Roberts seethed as he took a step forward and pressed the pistol against Kennedy's forehead.

  Kennedy sobbed and closed his eyes, letting out a pathetic cry like a mewling babe. His whole body shook, and it looked as if at any moment he might soil himself. His hands clasped together in front of him, tightening in preparation for what was about to happen.

  A moment in silence passed, with the three crews waiting for the foregone conclusion to this tale of betrayal. The clouds broke, and the sun of the afternoon shone on them. Even the wind seemed to have silenced itself in the face of this tale's climax.

  And yet, the thunder of the pistol never roared into that silence. Instead, Roberts released the cock on the gun and lowered it to his side.

  "Roberts," Edward said, a nervous chuckle following his call, "what are you doing?"

  Roberts sighed, but then smiled. "You are correct. Now is the time for justice, Edward. My justice." He looked at Walter Kennedy with a strange look in his eyes. "I will grant you mercy this day, old friend. You will live to see another day."

  Walter burst into miserable tears and fell to the deck, as if he were bowing before Roberts. "Thank you, Roberts. Thank you, thank you!" he kept repeating.

  "Do not mistake my mercy for weakness," Roberts said. "If I see you after today, I won't hesitate to kill you. Live out the rest of your days as you will, but live them far away from here, someplace where we are sure never to meet."

  Kennedy looked up at Roberts, tears still streaming down his face. He wiped his eyes. "I swear to you, I will do as you say."

  Edward clenched his teeth and balled his fist. The sight filled him with inexplicable rage. He grabbed the pistol from Roberts' hand, cocked it, pointed it at Kennedy, and pulled the trigger.

  Roberts grabbed Edward's hand and pushed it up towards the sky. The pistol fired, its thunder finally releasing, but the bullet flew up in the air, hitting nothing.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Edward?" Roberts shouted as he pushed Edward back to the quarterdeck deckhead. His anger turned his Welsh accent into a booming song.

  For what Edward believed to be the first true time, he saw anger in Bartholomew Roberts' eyes. A great, deep well of rage billowed forth and pressed in on Edward, and he suddenly felt very small in the face of this giant of a man.

  Edward tried to move his hands, but he wasn't able to. "I'm doing what you're not capable of, because you're weak. The only reason you're sparing him is because of a false sense of camaraderie which is long since removed," he said. "You leave him to roam the seas, and he will come back to kill you in the end, not the other way around."

  Roberts kept his hands steady on Edward, not letting him go, and boring his gaze into him. "My reasons for sparing him are based solely on what he has done to me. If we are to serve as our own judge, jury, and executioner, we do not have the right to forgo the first two responsibilities." Roberts loosened his grip on Edward.

  Edward pulled his hands away, dropped the gun on deck, and pointed a finger in Roberts' face. "I will tell you of mercy and what it brings. I spared the naval captain who falsely accused me of piracy, and he brought a fleet of warships to bear against me, resulting in my jailing. Kenneth Locke was marooned for killing one of my crewmates instead of being killed himself, and he came to torture me nigh to death. Had I done away with them when I had the chance, I would have been spared those atrocities. I do you a favour in attempting to save you future injury, but seeing as you don't desire my help, do yourself a favour and kill him while you have the chance," Edward said, pointing at Kennedy. "As for me, I will correct my mistakes, and kill anyone who crosses me or my crew." Edward pushed past Roberts and headed back to his ship. "You would do well to learn from my mistakes, Roberts."

  Edward returned to his ship, leaving Roberts with the silence, and, he hoped, the weight of just what his decision meant.

  18. Proverbs 16:18

  "That was not wise," Anne said.

  Edward and Anne sat in the war room, now with a slightly lowered ceiling from the renovations, and fewer windows for light to enter. The repairs were complete, with minor, superficial improvements still outstanding.

  Edward tapped his finger on the oval table in front of him as he eyed his wife. "As my wife, are you not to stand by my decisions?"

  Anne's face was as stone. "You presume much to think I would stand by you as you push everyone away," she said, her words ice. "I choose when and where to stand by you, and when to tell you you're acting the fool."

  Edward clenched his jaw and looked away, his tapping increasing in tempo. "What would you have me do? Stand idly by as my friend proceeds to sail into a storm of his own making?"

  "As your wife, and your quartermaster, I would have you retract your earlier statements and offer apology to your ally and friend."

  "Tch," Edward spat. "You would have me show weakness in the face of my crew?"

  "If your pride won't allow you to apologise in public, then offer it in private. I care not how it is done, just have it done and over with."

  Edward leaned back in his chair, reliving the event again and again in his head. He saw in Kennedy's eyes the same look as Kenneth Locke and Isaac Smith. He had known then that Roberts would soon find himself on the other end of that pistol if Kennedy were not executed, but Roberts had stopped him.

  He stared his wife in the eyes. "If anyone should apologise, it's Roberts. I was saving his life, but he chose to throw it away."

  Anne got up from her chair. "You're acting more a fool than I took you for. I take my leave of you before I say something I will regret. Just know that if you don't do the right thing you will lose more than my respect."

  Anne walked towards the cabin door, her feet nearly stomping on the planks. Edward thought to say something about respect being for lords and ladies, not pirates, but he thought better.

  After she left the room, another entered directly afterwards. Jack Christian walked into the war room and approached the oval table. "May I sit, Captain?"

  "You're not attempting to lecture me as well, are you?"

  Jack chuckled as he placed his hand on one of the chairs, but stopped short of sitting in it. "If you consider having a conversation a lecture, then I suppose I am."

  Edward waved his hand, and Jack sat down across from him. "What did you wish to discuss?"

  "I suppose the first order of business I should mention is that Roberts and crew are stripping the Gallant of valuables for themselves."

  Edward nodded and scratched his chin through his thick beard. "As it should be. We owe them, and after dumping the cargo we have no way to repay that debt."

  Jack frowned and leaned forward in his chair. "There is… something else you should know."

  Edward raised his brow. "What?"

  "The men returned from aboard Roberts' ship after what happened on the Gallant, and some overheard Roberts telling his first mate to prepare to leave."

  "That doesn't seem odd. We head to battle soon."

  Jack nodded. "Yes… but the men claimed they heard him wishing to head east."

  "East? But that's…" Edward trailed off.

  "He may be planning to leave us and not aid in the fight against Kenneth Locke and the galleon."

  Edward gazed at the oval table in shock. He and Roberts had been through so much, and it was hard to think that this small squabble would set them apart. He began thinking on just what it was he had done and said, and whether Anne was correct and he should apologise. After a moment, he shook off the feeling.

  "He was here before us; east must be where Kennet
h Locke will attack us. That must be why."

  Jack's jaw went slack for a few seconds, and he cocked his brow. He seemed at a loss for words. "That could be, Captain, but perhaps you would do well to ask him yourself."

  "Would you send for him?" he asked.

  Jack nodded, and rose from his chair. "I'll see it done," he said. "And, Captain, I wish to give you the advice I tried to impart upon Herbert before he went chasing after his enemy: Don't let anger cloud your mind. I may not be a shining example, but you can at least learn from my mistakes. Roberts is a friend and ally, and some due kindness may prevent a lasting rift."

  Hearing the same thing over again wore on Edward's anger. That Roberts could be so troubled over what had happened that he would leave was a sobering thought. After some silent reflection, the stubbornness returned, and he thought it wasn't possible for Roberts to be so childish.

  Edward simply nodded in Jack's direction, and Jack nodded back with a smile before he left the war room.

  Roberts wouldn't leave over this. That would be foolish. Edward was more or less certain of that, but he stroked his beard and rethought what he knew about the man.

  After a few minutes, a knock came at the door. "Enter," Edward said. The door opened and Roberts walked in. Edward forced a smile. "Roberts, please, come in, sit," he said, motioning towards the seats at the table.

  Roberts hesitated for a moment, and then stepped over to the table and took a seat. "You wished to speak with me, Edward?"

  "Yes… Did you follow my advice in handling your friend Walter Kennedy?"

  Roberts grinned briefly, but it seemed more from surprise. "You still don't understand, do you?"

  Edward sat up straight in his chair. "I believe it is you who misunderstands, friend."

  Roberts' hand gripped the arm of his chair hard. "You undermined me, insulted me, and called into question my judgement in front of my crew." The normally sweet tones of his Welsh turned to a harsh melody. "You are lucky that my crew holds the both of us in high regard, or we would be having a very different conversation right now."

  Edward could feel his legs and arms tense and itch. He took in a deep breath to calm himself. "I was trying to help you, that is all."