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

by Jeremy McLean

  Edward turned from watching William and lunged at a man running over to the port side with a musket in hand. The man turned just before seeing the giant in front of him thrusting a blade towards his gut. Edward's blow took him off his feet, and he dropped the musket to grab the blade, but it was too late. A look of fear and confusion was plastered on his face, a permanent remnant of his last moments on earth.

  When Edward and his men joined the fray, Locke's pirates initially thought them to be on their side, since they were also attacking the Spanish. With their guard lowered, Edward's men charged the other pirates, and in less than twenty minutes they had cleared the entire gun deck.

  William advanced to the second gun deck, and Edward followed closely behind him. William dispatched the Spaniards with precision and wit, while taking in all his surroundings to ensure he wasn't caught unawares.

  The gunpowder smoke was thick in the air on the second gun deck. With nowhere to release it, it billowed and piled up at the top. Edward's height, normally an advantage, was proving his downfall in more ways than one this day, as he couldn't breathe without taking a full whiff of smoke. After the near-drowning from before, the smoke was a welcome presence, but still not pleasant or easy on his lungs.

  He fought his way to the stern of the ship, towards the captain's cabin. He could see three pirates at the door to a cabin, knocking against it with the butt of their muskets.

  The deck was much more illuminated than the bilge and the sea water, and Edward was able to see everything with near-perfect clarity. He noticed a flash at his side, and he pulled his chest back, stepping on his heels as he did so. A blade stabbed in front of him, and Edward reached out to grab the arm holding it. He found purchase and pulled the arm forward, then elbowed the man in the face. He heard a snap as a nose broke. Edward moved to the side of the ship, reared back, and chopped at the man's chest, cleaving him halfway through. The man fell to the sole in an instant, dead before his body hit.

  Edward was covered in the blood of his enemies, and still soaked with seawater. His hair and beard were dripping wet, and his blade coated in tar and blood. Every inch of him felt chilled to the bone, and exhausted from the effort he had had to exert until this point.

  And yet, somewhere deep inside of him, he was revelling in the chaos of it all.

  An explosion erupted on the gun deck, the sound shaking Edward to his core. He noticed something dart past him towards the bow of the ship. He stepped forward and looked at the bow to see a cannonball lodged against the hull. The cannonball had taken out some of the Spanish as well as one of Edward's men, and two of Locke's pirates. He looked at the stern, and saw that the three pirates knocking at the captain's door had been eviscerated by the cannonball. What was left of them was splayed out from the door, their hands clutching at air as they breathed their last breaths.

  What remained of the door swung open with a loud creak, and out stepped a woman and two men. The woman wore a cloak, but the hood was down, revealing her face. She had long black hair, a tanned, angular face, and a sour glare directed at the invaders. In her hands she carried a pistol and a short sword.

  That cloak, Edward thought. It's the same as the one worn by the figure who accompanied the galleon's captain when we tried to join them.

  The woman raised her pistol and fired it at Edward. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side, out of the way of the bullet. He looked at the person who'd grabbed him to see Victoria there.

  Before he could thank her, she looked to the stern and gritted her teeth. She pushed Edward back in the other direction with all her might, and pulled up her buckler where he'd stood. The clang of metal on metal told Edward that someone had attacked, and looked to see the cloaked woman wielding her sword.

  Edward stepped to the side to regain his footing, and two blades were thrust at him. He jumped backwards and swiped his cutlass at the blades, knocking them to the side. He bent down as he backed up and pointed his weapon at the two Spanish guards.

  "Come now, gentlemen. Two on one is a mite unfair, is it not?" he said, not expecting an answer.

  One of the men glanced at his companion. "Este hombre es más tonto de lo que él parece si él cree que él nos puede llevar tanto."

  The second man laughed. "Cierto."

  Did they just call me an idiot?

  After the brief interlude, the two men stepped forward and attacked Edward at the same time. Their blades came one after the other, each meant to knock him off balance and unnerve him. Edward had experience with this type of fighter, but two of them was a challenge he hadn't faced before.

  Edward kept stepping backwards out of the way of the attacks until he bumped into someone else. He glanced over his shoulder to see a man he was unfamiliar with, whom he was certain was on Locke's crew. Edward twisted around, pulled the pirate to the side, and tossed him into the Spanish guards.

  The pirate toppled over the Spanish, and the three of them fell to the sole. Edward stepped up to them and slashed his cutlass in a wide arc. In one swift and powerful stroke he sliced all three necks open.

  Edward rushed over to where Victoria and the Spanish woman were fighting. He circled the duo as their blades clashed, looking for an opening.

  "I can handle this," Victoria said through gritted teeth. "Find your mark and finish this!"

  Edward paused for a moment, but decided to trust her ability and moved to the stern. Before heading up top, he entered what he supposed was the captain's cabin. He searched the room, but there was no one there.

  Captain Miguel must be on the weather deck, fighting with the rest.

  Edward turned around and went to the nearest set of stairs. He climbed it up to the weather deck of the galleon.

  The sounds of the battle hit Edward in full now that he was in the open air. The small pops of gunshots went off every second in erratic intervals, followed by the loud booming sound of a dozen cannons firing off nearby. The shouts of men fighting and the clash of metal rang out almost simultaneously, closely followed by death screams.

  The air was filled with smoke from the constant igniting of gunpowder. The light musk of sweat and blood mixed with the smoke and the sea air and created a strange, unique aroma that spoke to Edward's animal instincts and made him grip his cutlass tighter.

  Around him, Edward could see countless people fighting at every level and section of the ship. From the stern poop deck to the bow forecastle, pirates clashed with the Spanish defenders, and all the while their ships were sinking.

  Edward turned around and rushed to the starboard side of the galleon, passing by men dueling and bleeding out. He looked over the side to see the two pirate sloops half-sunk into the ocean, and the Queen Anne's Revenge circling around. The crew on the weather deck fired at the pirates swimming their way.

  The flash of the muskets and pistols and the flare of the cannons created beautiful bursts of light in the evening. The sparks flew from their containers, lighting their surroundings and reflecting off the sea for a moment as the flares dropped to the water or wood below.

  The galleon had begun sinking as well, and from the look of the water, he could tell it was leaning towards starboard. With the size and instability of the galleon, Edward knew it wouldn't be long before it toppled over.

  Edward scanned the galleon for the two people he was looking for. With the chaos aboard, the bullets flying, men running and dying, it was difficult to see anything with clarity.

  How hard could it be to find a man with a chest attached to his arm?

  Edward's eyes went from one person to the next in rapid succession, each one not the man he was looking for. Wait a moment, Edward thought. Captain Miguel.

  On the bow of the ship, Captain Miguel was overseeing the battle, directing his men against the boarders and attacking them with his own musket.

  Before Edward could make for the bow, a man with a feathered cap turned around after stabbing a man in the chest with a rapier. Edward recognised the man as one of Locke's trusted mat
es, Philip Culverson, and, judging from the up and down glance followed by widened eyes, Philip recognised Edward as well.

  "You…!" Philip said, dumbfounded.

  "Allow me to handle this one, Captain," William said, walking up beside Edward.

  "Are you sure you'll manage?" Edward asked.

  William replied with a curt nod of the head, and then positioned his blade in front of him to engage in a duel with the pirate. Edward stepped behind William and took a wide path around Philip, all the while pointing his own blade at him just in case. Philip kept one eye on Edward until he was far enough away not to be trouble.

  Edward turned around and stalked over to the bow, avoiding the fights happening on all sides of him. He ran up the steps and cut down one of the Spanish along the way. The Captain's back was turned, and he was aiming down the barrel of a musket. Edward walked over to him, and one of his men rushed Edward, but he dispatched the man easily.

  Edward pulled his blade back, and stabbed Captain Miguel in the back. Miguel's musket fired as the cutlass pierced his flesh.

  He leaned up to Miguel's ear. "You should have joined us. You and your men would still be alive were that the case."

  Edward pulled out the cutlass, and Miguel did a half-turn before his knees buckled and he fell backwards. He made a desperate attempt to hold himself up, but landed on the deck with one hand clinging to the forecastle railing and the other holding fast to the wound on his chest. His eyes were wide with shock and fear as he stared up at Edward.

  "I didn't—" Miguel stopped short and coughed up blood, splattering dark red on his clothes as it seeped out his chin. "I didn't want this," he said, his words shaking like his body as his life left him. "It wasn't my say."

  Edward looked down on him with all the rage he'd felt over the betrayal. "I don't care," he said.

  He stabbed Miguel through the throat, ending the man's life. His eyes retained the fear and shock it had in the seconds before his death, in part from the prospect of dying, and in part from the man who'd caused it.

  When Edward pulled the blade out, he turned on his heel to see if any were about to do something about what he'd done to their captain, but all the men on the bow were too busy fighting for their lives. He turned back around to view the ship once more, and he spotted the man he was looking for on the weather deck.

  Kenneth Locke, Cache-Hand, was there with his crew in the thick of battle against the Spanish. He looked just as Edward remembered him: unkempt, grotesque features, sweat and blood matting his hair to his forehead, and a wicked smile showing off his crooked yellow and black teeth.

  His right arm, visibly more muscular than the left, ended not with a hand, but a chest full of gold pieces—the same chest that had been there when he was a part of Edward's crew years ago. His greed caused him to fall into a trap, locking the chest on his hand with no way to remove it. A strange thing that it was a trap laid by Benjamin Hornigold, and now Locke worked for him, though under the name Calico Jack.

  Edward's stomach felt empty and hollow, and his heart beat faster at the sight of Locke. His breathing turned rapid, and his feet itched to move, but in the opposite direction. His wounds all over his body screamed pain once more, screaming not to his ears but to his senses. They called for him to run away and avoid that pain again.

  Edward grabbed hold of the forecastle railing and gripped it until his knuckles were white. In his other hand, he held fast to his cutlass. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Locke, but it wasn't his face he saw in his mind. He couldn't stop seeing John, his former quartermaster, the tired old man. The memory of Locke running the blade against John's neck repeated in Edward's mind over and over, and with each flash his legs weakened more and more.

  The feeling was so much more intense now than it had ever been. The feeling of losing not just John, but everyone he cared for. The possibility of that happening was there, and it gripped his heart like a vice and wouldn't let go.

  You are here, you are now, you are not then, Anne's voice repeated in Edward's head.

  His wife's voice took the place of the visions in his head, overlapping and taking them over until it was just her there. He relaxed his grip, took long and deep breaths until the feeling passed, and he replaced it with something different.

  I will not lose anyone else to him. It ends today!

  Edward ran down the forecastle, straight at Locke. He leapt into the air, his cutlass high, and as he landed he brought the cutlass down like a great pendulum.

  Locke noticed Edward at the last moment, and he raised his chest-hand in the air as he turned around to face him. The blade bit into the chest, creating a large cleft between the wood and iron.

  Edward pulled the chest down with his cutlass, placed his foot against it, and kicked the thing off his blade. He pushed Locke back with it, and Locke had to take a few steps back to keep his balance.

  His eyes widened at the sight of Edward. He looked as if he saw an apparition. "You… You're dead," he said. "I killed you." His voice shook, a different kind of fear taking hold of him.

  "Aye, and I've come back to kill you," Edward said. He slashed at Locke, but the other pirate deflected it. "Where is Sam?"

  Locke's brow raised in confusion. "You've gone mad," he said as he backed away, his eyes still filled with fear. "Who're ya talkin' about? I don't know no Sam."

  "Enough with the games, Locke. Tell me what you did with Sam, now."

  Locke's eyes changed into a frustrated squint. "I told ya I don't know who yer talkin' about."

  Edward tightened his grip on his cutlass, his anger rising. He went on the offensive, slashing and jabbing at the other pirate. Locke stayed defensive, backing away and dodging or parrying the blows. With a large, powerful swing, Edward knocked Locke's cutlass out of his hand.

  Edward continued pushing Locke back. He took advantage of the man's shock and tried to force Locke into a corner. When Locke stepped to his right, Edward moved with him and pushed him back to the left. He used light controlling jabs to keep Locke on his toes and stepping in the direction he wanted. After a moment, Locke's back hit the stern cabin bulkhead.

  The smack on his back seemed to awaken Locke and knock him back into his senses, and he used the recoil to go on the offensive. He swung the chest on his arm in a wide arc, knocking Edward's cutlass out of the way.

  Edward's hand stung from the blow, and he had to concentrate hard to keep his grip lest he too lose his blade, but it pulled his whole body to the side. His eyes followed his hand on instinct, and when he looked back at Locke it was too late to react.

  Locke thrust the chest forward as if he were punching, and hit Edward in the chest. The force of the blow sent him reeling backwards. He tumbled over and fell to the sole. The pain from the blow was excruciating across his whole ribcage, and it felt like something had broken. The punch knocked the wind out of him, and he dropped his cutlass to his side. He reflexively curled up to cover his chest as he tried to recover his breath. It was a worse feeling than when he had been drowning earlier, as air was all around him, but his body couldn't take it in.

  "No sorry sod of a ghost would be feeling that," Locke said as Edward writhed. "Yer so pathetic ya can't even die right."

  Kenneth kicked Edward in the face, his head rearing back from the force. It also knocked Edward's body back to work, and he could heave air in. The pain in his chest and chin remained, and his vision blurred. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth, and possibly a loose tooth. He turned over onto his stomach and forced his weary head up to search for his foe.

  Locke grabbed hold of Edward's hair and pulled him up to his knees. "I don't know where ya came from, but I'm going ta kill ya for sure this time," he said. "Remember what I did to that old fool? I'm going to find every last one of your crew and do the same to them." Locke pulled back the heavy wooden chest, the coins inside rattling, and aimed for Edward's head.

  Edward grabbed hold of Locke's hand on his head and placed his other hand out against the chest. He
stopped the punch mid-way with a loud thud before reaching around and gripping Locke's forearm. He then stood to his full height, forcing Locke to let go of his hair.

  Edward stared down at Locke with all the malice he felt towards him in that moment. "Do you remember what I promised you that day?" he asked. "I promised you that I would live, and make sure the last thing you saw was my hands around your neck as I choked the life out of you."

  The fear in Locke's eyes returned in full force.

  Edward pulled Locke's arms down, forcing his upper body down as well. He kneed Locke in the face, smashing his nose.

  Locke took a few steps back, clutching his broken and bloody nose. He gritted his teeth, glared at Edward, and went to uppercut him with his chest-hand.

  Edward stepped to the side, dodging the blow. He levelled Locke with a punch straight to his jaw, and the man fell to the sole in a heap.

  "You're too slow, Locke. My wife's punches are ten times as fast as yours." Edward backed up, keeping his eyes on Locke, until found his cutlass by the light of the moon and picked it up again.

  Locke sputtered a hoarse laugh as he came to his knees. "Trouble with the missus, eh Thatch?"

  Edward grinned. "Far from it," he said. "It wasn't an insult towards you, it was simply a fact. I train with her nearly every day. She could have killed you six times over by now, I'd wager."

  "Captain," William called behind Edward.

  Edward turned around to see William and Victoria, bloodied and soaked with sweat, on the weather deck along with his other crewmates. Victoria and the rest of the crew looked as if they had just come up from below.

  "The ship's about to topple over," William said.

  Before Edward could grasp the words William had said, the ship began angling down towards the sea. The shift was as sudden as it was drastic, and it didn't stop once it started tilting.

  As the angle of the ship changed, Edward's legs had naturally adjusted to compensate, and only after the listing became more pronounced did he fully understand what was happening. He ran up to the port side of the ship as the deck changed to an incline, and jumped for the portside railing. He clung to the railing, wrapping his arm around the beams.