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

by Jeremy McLean

"If Sam is there, he won't even know who this ship belongs to," Edward said. "Locke won't win against the galleon's crew with their numbers. We need to ensure both sides are left too wounded to continue fighting, and search for Sam."

  "And how will we do that?" Herbert asked.

  Edward thought on the problem for a moment. From where we are, if we board we risk a three-fronted battle erupting if Locke sees us or his crew recognises who we are. We can't attack the galleon or we could end up at their broadside. Just because the rudder's mucked doesn't mean they're immobile. What can we do?

  "Captain," William said, interrupting Edward's thoughts. "The galleon is taking on water."

  Edward looked through his spyglass and noticed what William was looking at. On the stern of the galleon, near where the other ship had hit it, there was a hole in the wood. Judging from the size and position it would be difficult to cover, and could sink the ship given enough time.

  Edward grinned, an idea forming in his head. "That's how we'll win this fight," he said. He looked at the senior officers gathered around him. "We're going to enter the galleon from that breach, and fight our way to the top." Edward pointed at Anne. "At the same time, you'll attack Locke's ships with ours. All three ships will be in the drink when we're done with them."

  Those around him looked at him as if he were mad, for a moment. In the silence of shock, they pondered the plan, and each person's face changed to reflect a sceptical acceptance.

  "It may actually work," Anne said finally.

  "Herbert," Edward called, "bring us in as close as you can to the galleon. We're going to need the crew who remain here to keep the men aboard the galleon from attacking us."

  Herbert nodded and then focussed his attention on helming the ship. They were already on an approach, so there wasn't much to be done at the moment.

  Edward stepped up to the quarterdeck railing and placed both his hands on it, leaning forward to speak with the crew. "Men, we have an opportunity ahead of us to bleed all our enemies dry. We're going inside the Spanish galleon from the stern, and I need fifty strong swimmers to join me."

  Fifty volunteers formed up to join Edward in this expedition. Victoria was among them, but not Alexandre.

  Christina stood up. "I wish to join," she said.

  Edward shook his head. "I need you here, helping your brother." Christina opened her mouth again, no doubt to object, but Edward cut her off. "That is an order," he said, his finger raised.

  Christina pouted and sat back down on the sole of the deck.

  William stepped forward. "I will be joining you, Captain. I believe the exercise would aid my constitution."

  Edward chuckled. "Provided it doesn't kill you?"

  William bowed his head a touch. "Yes, barring that," he said.

  Pukuh was strangely silent during the volunteering process, though he was nearby and no doubt heard the plan. "Pukuh, will you not be joining us?"

  The Mayan shook his head. "I will do better here. I am not as strong a swimmer as I was," he said, glancing at his missing arm.

  Edward looked at it as well, and at the shattered pride in Pukuh's eyes. "Then you had better start practicing after this battle. I won't have you slowing the storm over something as trivial as losing one of your arms," he said with a smirk.

  Pukuh looked at him, at first with light shock, and then he too grinned. "Soon I will swim better than you, and they will call me Pukuh, The Bringer of the Storm."

  Edward chuckled, overjoyed by his friend's resilience in the face of every challenge.

  As the Queen Anne's Revenge sailed closer, the men who would join Edward prepared for the journey. They would have to approach the galleon on longboats before entering the breach.

  "As soon as we're away and inside the ship, give Locke's ships our broadside. We don't want them escaping if the battle doesn't turn in their favour."

  "Aye, Captain," Anne said, a pensive look on her face. Edward turned around to enter a longboat, but Anne stopped him. "Don't die. Revenge isn't worth your life."

  Edward smiled, trying to reassure his wife. "I don't plan on perishing anytime soon." He leaned in and gave her a kiss before entering the longboat.

  The crew lowered the longboats into the sea, and they rowed towards the galleon. The moon's glow was the only source of light now that evening had set in. The flash of gunpowder from the ships in front of them was a poor substitute for a lantern, but they thought it best to hide their advance.

  As they approached, the sounds of men screaming, cannons, muskets, and pistols firing, and steel clashing became louder. The sound of the wind was lost, but its bite was not. The cold of the night was just starting, and it would no doubt get worse before their battle was over.

  Edward shuddered at the thought of entering the icy waters of the sea, his body preparing for the shock and suddenness of it.

  The smell of burning gunpowder met Edward's nose, tingling with its acrid smell in the way that forces one to rub one's nose. The itch meant something else to Edward, and he imagined his crew felt the same—it meant a fight was on the horizon.

  Twenty feet from the galleon's stern, a crossbow bolt hit one of Edward's men in the shoulder. Edward looked up to where the bolt had come from, and could see Spanish navymen on platforms halfway up the masts.

  "On the masts!" he shouted before pulling his musket out and firing.

  The crew joined Edward in firing upon the Spanish, while the rowers continued pulling the longboats in further. The Spanish fired bolts back at them in kind. A few fell into the sea, a few hit the boat with a thunk, and a few more hit Edward's men.

  The crew aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge fired at the Spanish as well, providing cover for the boarders.

  Edward's longboat made contact with the stern first. He pulled the boat along the behemoth to where the hole was. It had been covered over with planks now, but the outside was still open. The hole was half above and half below the water-line, and wide enough for one person to squeeze through if it was open.

  Edward pulled out his golden cutlass, and jumped from the boat into the cold water. The sea stole his last shred of warmth, and he couldn't help but shiver. He focussed on the task at hand, pushed aside the thoughts of the frigid drink, and swam to the covered hole.

  He jabbed his blade between the planks of wood and wiggled the blade up and down to pry apart the pieces. When that didn't seem to do any good, he pulled his blade out. It was covered in a thin film of tar used to seal the hole. He hit the wood vertically, poking holes in the planks above and below the water line to weaken the beams.

  William appeared beside him, and the two kicked the planks with all their might. The water made their attacks weaker, but Edward's blade had done the priming work for them. With each kick, they could feel the nails holding them in place loosen. The two became more coordinated with each strike, and before long they were synchronized.

  Two planks snapped in half with a loud crack at the end of Edward's and William's boots. Water once more flooded freely through the hole, and the pressure aided their cause. A few more kicks saw a whole plank dislodged, and more pieces of wood breaking off.

  Edward could see men in the darkness beyond the breach. "Fire, fire!" he yelled while looking at his men and pointing to the new hole.

  Edward and William moved aside and the men fired their muskets at the hole. Some of the shots missed entirely, but many made it through to the other side. When the firing subsided, the two in the water waded back over and looked inside. From what Edward could see in the void of the galleon's bilge, the shots had hit their marks.

  Edward lifted up his legs and entered the small hole feet first, with the water guiding him in. He landed inside the bilge of the galleon and looked around, four dead men sprawled on the sole greeting him.

  He went to the nearest plank and used his cutlass as a lever to pull it out. It was already loose from the kicking he and William had given it, and after a few mighty tugs it gave way and Edward was able to toss it to one
side.

  William entered the hole next, landing in a pool that reached halfway up his shins already. When he saw what Edward was doing, he pulled out a cutlass from his belt and did the same.

  Edward was cold, wet, and his every movement laden down by the water soaked into his clothes. He couldn't even tell whether the beads dropping from his hair, forehead, and nose were salt water or sweat.

  As Edward and William pulled out the planks, the crew filtered in through the hole one by one. Some of the men caught their trouser legs or arms on the exposed chips of wood from the new boards and the old breach. After Edward and William finished removing the wood, they sheathed their weapons and helped the other men through the breach.

  With each new man, the water in the bilge rose another few inches. The sound of the rushing water, splashing in faster with the waves and pitch of the ship, overtook everything else in the small compartment.

  Victoria jumped through the hole, landing next to Edward. Her short hair was matted to her forehead with the water, her cap lost in the sea. She held her usual buckler and short sword.

  Edward grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in close. "How many more men are there?" he yelled over the din, spitting water in her direction.

  "No more than ten," she yelled back.

  Edward pointed towards the hatch leading to the next deck, where the crew had gathered, waiting. "Get them up there and start the fight. Stay alive and I shall join you presently."

  Victoria nodded and then trudged through the chest-high—and rising—water over to the men, shouting something Edward couldn't hear. He went back over to William.

  "Go join the others, I can handle the rest," Edward shouted.

  William gave a quick salute, and then pulled one of the crewmates over with him towards the hatch.

  Edward continued helping the others through the hole, which was now entirely covered by the sea. He counted each man down that came through until he reached eight, and then there were no more.

  Edward grabbed hold of the man who had come through last, grasping through the shoulder-high water he could barely see in. "Are there any others?"

  The man pointed as best he could towards the hole. "One more left, Captain."

  Edward nodded and pushed the man along towards the bilge hatch. He went back to the breach, but still did not see another man come through.

  Edward cursed, took a deep breath, and dove under. He moved through the murky mess towards the opening, and felt a body in front of him. He looked around but couldn't see much of anything. His hands became his eyes as he felt blindly in front of him. After a moment, another's hands grasped his own, and pulled them over towards a leg. Through his sense of touch, Edward could feel the fibers of pantaloons ripped and wrapped around the exposed wood.

  Not wanting to risk losing his precious cutlass, nor accidentally cut the man he was trying to save, Edward pulled out a knife from his pocket. He traced the lines of his other arm to where the pants were caught, and sawed at the strings. The water made everything slick and the darkness didn't help Edward judge his progress. He just kept sawing as the crewmate kept pulling on his pant leg. After a moment, Edward lost all sense of resistance, and felt the strings of the pant leg slip through his fingers.

  Edward planted his feet on the sole, but in the time he had been under the water it had risen above his head. He kicked his legs up, and his head poked through the water. He saw the other crewmate with him, catching his breath.

  "The hatch is that way," Edward shouted over the noise. "We have to swim."

  "I can't see a bloody thing," the crewmate responded, an undertone of fear in his shaky voice.

  "Then die here," Edward said harshly. "Go. I'll be right at your tail."

  The man nodded, took a breath, and dove into the water. Edward did the same, and he kicked his legs forward to the hatch.

  The dark of the night could not hold a candle to the dark of the waters in the depths of the galleon's bilge. The moon gave some illumination to the night's activities, but the belly of a ship knew no light save by lantern, and there were no lanterns here.

  Edward cleaved through the water, his muscular forearms and chest straining with each stroke. His legs paddled behind him, and the two worked together to push him in a direction he hoped was forward.

  He moved up for a breath, but could no longer surface his head, and had to lean back to bring in another breath of air. He wasn't able to check for the mate he had tried to help, and even if he did it would be fruitless.

  He sank down and continued moving in the direction he thought would take him to the hatch. His body was so cold it no longer felt cold to him. He felt a strange numbness in his hands and feet, not the same as when slept upon, but a strange void of feeling in his fingers and toes.

  He wasn't sure how far he had gone, but if he was to take a guess he had to be getting close to the hatch. He went up for another breath of air. His fingers outstretched above him, he could feel the wood of the deck above him, but there was no gap in the water. He felt around for a few seconds, but could find nowhere to gather air.

  Edward's heart beat faster as the urgency of escape hit him all at once. He needed more air, and quick.

  He pumped his legs and stroked with his arms against the cold sea water, pressing forward to the hatch. No matter where he looked, it was infinite darkness in front of him, with nothing to guide his way.

  He felt pain in his chest, and his body called out for more air. His thoughts shrank to nothing, and all that drove him was the instinct to find the surface. As the seconds passed, small spots of light flashed across his vision, pulsing in with each heartbeat.

  The beating slowed.

  Am I to drown here? Edward thought, still pushing forward. He shook his head as best he could. No! No! This isn't where I'll die. Not today! Edward forced the spots away.

  His fingers clawed at the wood above him, desperate for the edge of the hatch he knew should be near him. His legs beat against the water, ungracefully pushing it away like the killer it was.

  The spots of light returned, taking over his vision one second at a time. Each pulse came slower, but with it the pain in his chest grew as well.

  Edward's arms and legs became weaker and weaker with each stroke forward. They were heavier than solid lead, and as sluggish. His hands outstretched, Edward flailed and thrashed to gain each inch forward.

  His finger grazed something unfamiliar, and it renewed his vigor, if by a small margin. He combed the area where he had felt it, and his hands soon gripped someone's forearm.

  The owner of the forearm pulled, and Edward broke the surface of the water with a great splash and heave of a breath. His head whipped around, sending water flying off his slick hair as he tread water in the small opening to the bilge. William and Victoria were at the hatch, both as soaked as he.

  "There—" Edward started, but had to catch his breath some more. He gulped down air as he treaded water. "There was another man ahead of me," he said, hoping the question was evident.

  William and Victoria glanced at each other. "There were none before you," William answered.

  Edward's eyes fell to the void below his chest, and the man whom he had tried to save. It would have been impossible for him to still be alive, and Edward couldn't even begin to think of the agony he must have felt in his last moments.

  Edward pulled himself out of the bilge and onto the sole of the hold. The water was filling the ship in a rapid rise, and in a few minutes would snake its way through the cracks in the planks, up to the hold and beyond. The best part was that the Spanish galleon was a massive ship, and would take a fair amount of time to sink regardless of how quickly the water flooded it.

  Around him, Edward could see the men who had volunteered to join him. They were either waiting and watching him, or keeping an eye on the open orlop deck from below. On all sides of him were barrels and boxes and bags filled to the brim with supplies of God-knows-what. The containers were stacked to fill every inch of the
hold, save the bilge access port and a thin corridor to walk through.

  Edward had the brief thought to search the containers for the silver, but there was no time to wait around. The water from below was already beginning to bubble up and spill out from the bilge hatch, and the sounds of battle raged above them as harsh as ever.

  Edward pulled out his cutlass, the ring of the blade singing as it left its sheath. The tune it sang spoke of the promise of blood soon to be spilled on its edge, and filled each man with more courage than a dozen rousing speeches.

  "Let's tear this ship apart, men!" Edward shouted.

  Edward's crew had the sense to give their responses in brutish smiles rather than loud hollering, and all of them pulled out their weapons in kind if they hadn't already done so.

  Edward motioned for the men to move, and they made their way up to the orlop deck carefully and quietly. As each man moved along, Edward could hear muffled screams and thunks of steel meeting flesh. After a few moments, he came to the steep steps up to the orlop deck, overlooking the ship's magazine of gunpowder.

  He climbed up the steps to the orlop deck, holding fast to the sides as he did so. On the next deck, the dead bodies of two young men lay on the sole, bleeding out. They couldn't have been older than eleven.

  Powder-monkeys, Edward thought. They would have died anyway, had we not been here. "Were there any others on this deck?" Edward whispered.

  One of the men shook their head. "They all up top fighting."

  Edward nodded. "Let's join them then, shall we?"

  The men went up the next set of steps to the first gun deck, the one covered on the starboard side by one of Locke's sloops. When Edward emerged on the deck, he could see the Spanish running around, taking no notice of the new invaders coming up from below. They were dealing with Locke's crew who were shooting at them and entering the ship from the gun-ports.

  Edward's men entered the battle, slashing at the Spanish running around the confined deck. Edward had to bend over to stop himself from hitting the top of the deck, so towering was he.

  William led the charge against the dual enemies, and he was in top fighting form. He deftly dispatched half a dozen men in a row without stopping. They were powerless before his might as he manipulated them into making mistakes of which he then took ruthless advantage.