One of the young boys had clambered up the rigging to the crow's nest with a spyglass and was charged with seeing anyone approaching. Clara stood at the back of the ship, watching the wake. She had thought that sneaking into Port Royal was madness, but this was a step above—sailing out here, waiting for someone to ambush them; it was the craziest thing she'd ever done.
The boy started shouting and pointing to the starboard side. Clara's gaze followed and she saw a murky spot in the distance that must be a ship. "Who is it?" she asked as Lieutenant Havencourt extracted his spyglass. She jumped on the spot with agitation and anticipation, not knowing what to do with all these nerves in her.
"Wainsess," the lieutenant said with a smile.
"That's good, isn't it? He's the one we want."
"In the sense that he is predictable, yes. He will definitely board, try to fight his way to take the ship. He will be trying to find you as soon as he does. Are you ready to do this?"
No, she wanted to say, but instead she nodded cautiously, watching the ship draw closer. Nervousness shook her entire body, making it hard to stand still. This was her first ever pirate ambush, the thing that everyone traveling these seas dreaded, but they were as ready as they were going to be.
Still, it was torturous watching them slowly creep toward them like a pouncing cat.
* * *
Chapter 14:
* * *
"Is he baring his cannons?" Clara asked, worried that she wasn’t seeing things right.
"Yes, but I think it is more procedure than anything. Firing would cost too many lives and he wouldn't dare."
"Are you sure?"
"No. He's coming for you though, thinking you have the key. Where is the key?"
"Not here."
"It's not on the ship?"
"No."
Havencourt turned his attention back to the approaching ship. "Remember, he will use his sword, fight with heavy, but slow blows. If he reaches you, you have to anticipate his blows and move out of their way. If you meet one of his blows, take it with your whole body or he will knock your sword out of your hands.”
Clara tried to remember all the lessons the lieutenant had taught her—dissipate the blow, block and change trajectory. There was so much to remember.
The crew was standing below, weapons in hand, ready to take on the boarding enemy. Some of the younger crew members looked nervous, shifting from one foot to the other. The older stood more calmly, some with their arms crossed as if they were bored waiting.
This was completely insane. Here she was, waiting for a bunch of pirates to attack and she was going to fight them. She might die in a minute. A well-placed blow and it would be all over for her.
Wainsess' ship slowly glided up beside them and the first pirate swung across the divide on a rope, landing on deck, facing a charge. It might not be wise to be the first to land. A series of blows had him unconscious, but another two landed, while more started flowing over planks placed between the ships. Fighting began in earnest, with yelling and the distressing clash of metal.
"Keep an eye on Wainsess,” the lieutenant stated. “I imagine he's told his crew to leave you to him exclusively, which is good, I suppose. You know what to do."
She nodded, even if he couldn't see her, but she was only being agreeable. Right now, it felt like their whole plan was some ridiculous wish. How was this possibly going to work?
The melee continued below and a pirate slunk up the stairs to the quarterdeck. Havencourt engaged him, swinging with tight, measured strokes. The pirate was completely outmatched and Clara stood by and watched. She hadn't realized Lieutenant Havencourt was a much better swordsman than these pirates.
Another stalked up the stairs and two of them were engaging Havencourt. A third was creeping her way, a leering smile on his face. "Where's that key now, pretty?"
"None of your affair," she said and the man went to strike. If Wainsess had told his men not to engage her, this man hadn't listened, or the captain had issued no such request.
Raising her sword quickly, Clara took the blow, guiding its force away and down like she'd been taught. While she had his arms down, she raised her knee forcefully into his ribs. The pirate grunted with pain and staggered back, reassessing. He charged again and Clara moved out of his swing trajectory, preparing a counter-blow. The man anticipated it and blocked, catching her in the stomach with his boot and sending her crashing back onto the deck.
As quick as she could, she rolled over and tried to stand, blocking a blow from a crouching position, the force of it reverberating down her arms. That was the kind of interception she was not supposed to take. It would tire and injure her. It knocked her off balance and she landed on her backside. She had to get up.
Havencourt gave her the opportunity, by directing some blows to the man, driving him back. Her heart racing, Clara shot to her feet, waiting for the next opponent, which turned out to be a younger man with black teeth. He leered at her as well. What was this leering business they all seemed to engage in? "Really, with teeth like that, I would keep my mouth shut."
The man's eyes widened and he quickly drew his lips together. Apparently he was sensitive about his dental state. Embarrassment turned to anger and he charged her, but she was able to step out of the way, sending the man scrambling. 'Don't let your opponent rise when down'. Havencourt's lessons were cropping up in her mind. The man was rising and she didn't know what to do.
Out of panic, she brought the hilt of her sword down on his shoulders, hearing him grunt in pain. "Sorry," she winced. "You have to stay down." He went to rise and she hit him again.
A hand on her arm, made her jump, but it was Havencourt. "Let him rise."
"You told me to make sure he shouldn't, as generally a good idea."
The young man rose, looking murderous until Havencourt planted his boot in the young man's chest, sending him over the edge of the railing, tumbling backward and out of sight. Clara heard him splash into the water below. "There," Havencourt said. "Solved."
Clara rushed to the side and peered over. "I hope he can swim."
"Of course he can swim. He's a pirate. Most can manage a doggie paddle in a pinch."
"I really don't have the skills for this, do I?"
"You can't swim," the lieutenant said disbelievingly.
"No, they never taught us. The sisters felt there was no reason on God's green earth we would have to go in water."
"Ugh," Havencourt said with disgust or disappointment; she didn't know which. "And what are you going to do if someone kicks you over the side?"
"Scream for help. Possibly drown."
"We don't have time to talk about this now," he said, taking a blow from a charging pirate. "Where is Wainsess?"
Clara looked down at the madness on deck where men were fighting, swords clanging and axes swinging. A few were unconscious and bleeding on the ground. She'd been assured the men were holding back, fighting more for the fun of it. She wasn't sure. Many of these pirates would be motivated to win this challenge, realizing they would be in good stead if their captain ran Tortuga Bay. Clara didn't want to think about it.
She spotted Wainsess, who was making his way toward the quarterdeck, fighting one of the young, black men. Wainsess made heavy blows, but the runaway slaves were strong with muscles from years of hard toil. But even she could tell they lacked skill, but luckily Wainsess didn't go for finesse.
The young man's sword went flying and Wainsess had his sword tip at the man's throat. He nicked the young man's cheek, making him bleed.
"That is dishonorable, sir!" Clara yelled. "Cutting an unarmed man."
"With those anvils for arms, he's hardly unarmed," Wainsess sneered, looking up at her. "But you are welcome to come down here and defend his honor."
"Why don't you come up here, if you dare."
The arrogant man raised his eyebrows as if the idea of it was below his regard, but he turned to the steps and gingerly walked up. "Now, girl. You have something that bel
ongs to me."
"Oh?" she said, feigning ignorance. She really hated this man—not like she hated Christian Rossi, but she still wished him a painful and embarrassing defeat, and she would make that happen if she had the opportunity.
Another pirate went flying over the railing, dropping down to the deck below, landing with a grunt. "Good afternoon, Wainsess," Lieutenant Havencourt said with a cheery smile.
"This isn't your fight, Havencourt," Wainsess said dourly.
"I don't know. I am enjoying a bit of an outing."
Clara could see the hardness in Havencourt's eyes. As helpful as he was to her, there was a real hardness in him sometimes that made her uncomfortable. She was just glad he was on her side. Havencourt lifted his sword. It had blood on it.
"Your crew is no match for mine," Wainsess said. "It is only a matter of time before your crew is subdued. Bunch of retirees and boys so green they glow."
Havencourt shrugged. "Your key."
Wainsess laughed. "I don't think you understand the position you're in. I don't have to take you on. I can just wait until this ship is mine. Although it would be a real shame as I would love to teach you a lesson or two. And I could teach you three or four," he said, turning leeringly to her as if to suggest that he had some plans in mind for when she surrendered.
Clara's stomach turned. This leering business was really annoying her now. She swung her sword and Wainsess moved to block it. Havencourt swung from the other side and Wainsess was more worried now, taking on two opponents. He fought valiantly, anticipating the strikes from both sides. A blow sent Clara bending over the balustrade, almost losing her footing and going over. Havencourt and Wainsess were engaging behind her as she whipped around, lunging for a strike, which Wainsess successfully parleyed.
Wainsess turned his attention to her and feigned a strike. Clara had to drop on her knees to avoid the real strike, which she was sure Havencourt would reprimand her for later, but she rolled to the side, up to her feet again, parrying Wainsess' blade.
The bell rang, but Wainsess didn't pay attention, not noticing Clara’s men fleeing off the main deck, leaving their enemy confused. A slight shushing sound was the only thing to be heard as the mainsail came down, covering the entire deck and all the pirates on it.
With the distraction and a knock to his legs, Wainsess was on his back and Havencourt pinned him with his sword at the man’s throat. "Seems your men are detained at the moment."
Clara rushed to crouch by the man, searching through Wainsess's pockets, looking for the key. She found its hard form and fumbled with the fabric to reach it, bringing out her knife and cutting her way into the hidden pocket.
"You cut your mainsail, you lunatic," Wainsess wailed.
"Oops."
"What moron cuts their own mainsail? You're a sitting duck, ready for the picking."
"No, you are," Clara stated.
"Go," Havencourt said and Clara ran to the side, unhooked a rope and scrambled up on the railing to swing across to the other ship, her heart stopping as she swung out over the water, so very far below. If she didn't let go at the right time, she would miss the other ship and land in the water. Now, her mind screamed as her body swung, flew over the deck. She was still ten feet in the air if not more, but she couldn't worry about that. Forcing her fingers to let go, she dropped through the air, landing unceremoniously on her backside. The landing hurt, but nothing felt broken and she staggered to her feet, unbelieving of what she'd just done.
Lieutenant Havencourt followed, swinging elegantly between the ships to land on his feet. Her swing hadn't exactly been so elegant, but it was her first one and it did get the job done.
"You can't steal my ship!" Wainsess screamed, leaning over the railing, his face puce with anger.
"We just did," Havencourt replied.
"Ta!" Clara yelled with a mocking salute.
Their crew was already readying the ship to sail, while the bulk of Wainsess' crew was still fighting their way out from under the heavy mainsail.
She jumped with excitement as they started pulling away. They had pulled it off and had a new ship and another key for their effort.
"This ship is the fastest in Tortuga Bay," Havencourt yelled, competing with the wind. His enjoyment was clear and it matched the elation she felt. She'd taken on a pirate and won. She'd really done it. She'd fought and held her own—perhaps not with finesse and flair, but she'd survived, and they had conquered. The men all cheered and Clara looked down on her excited crew. Was there anything more amazing in the whole world? This bunch of rag-tags had won this battle. She couldn't be prouder.
Chapter 15:
* * *
Christian stared up at the whorehouse. The problem with the girl was that she was surrounded by people who protected her, namely Havencourt and Madame Guerier. It wasn't a huge problem; it only delayed the inevitable, but it did limit his options as he couldn't take Havencourt with a sword. The man had trained his whole life in swordsmanship and Christian couldn't match his skill. It was a truth that burned, but he wasn't stupid enough to deny it. Madame Guerier was a force to be reckoned with as well, he acknowledged with a smile. She had no issues with using the small pistol she carried with her at all times. She was a good shot, too, as would learn anyone who went against her wishes.
No, he had to get the girl away from her protectors or into a situation where her protectors were distracted. Then again, she could already be stripped of her key and sobbing at her misfortune. Although he could imagine her sticking her nose high in the air, with ramrod straight back, refusing to look disappointed in the way only the English could manage.
Christian liked to do a bit of planning when he could, finding that clever solutions presented themselves if he gave them time to develop. Talbot was the master at underhanded manipulation, stirring trouble with the stupid and passionate, in the hope that they would carry out his deeds for him. It often worked, but he was weak in almost every other area.
With a last look at the whorehouse, he turned away and walked toward the tavern, hunger starting to gnaw at him and the smell of roast pork wafting through town, drawing him as it did everyone else.
Sitting down with a portion on a tin plate, he started eating when someone rushed into the tavern.
"Wainsess lost his ship," the man shouted with obvious glee. Christian raised his eyebrows at this new development. Surely someone didn't just sail up and steal the ship while the man was on shore. Firstly, it was cowardly, and secondly, he would have left crew to protect the ship. "He did battle with Havencourt and Miss Nears, and lost both his ship and his key."
Christian's forkful of food froze just as he was going to shove it in his mouth. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Predictably, Wainsess had gone for her, thinking she was the easy target. She was the easy target, but the target had turned around and defeated the aggressor.
He dropped his fork down on the plate uneaten. This just didn't make sense. She'd taken a key. Not her, obviously, it must have been Havencourt. Havencourt was carrying his charge through this challenge and suddenly, they had two keys. This couldn't be happening. It changed the game completely. They were leading now and they had won the first battle of this challenge. It might even give them confidence to be the aggressors—and they had the fastest ship in town now.
Leaning back, he found he wanted to know more about this battle—if she had cowered in the corner the entire time. And they had stolen Wainsess' ship. The audacity of it was dumbfounding. Had she brandished that little sword of hers?
"Apparently they cut the mainsail down on the raiding party and just slipped over to sail away with Wainsess' ship," someone laughed at the next table, slapping his knee with glee. "The battle took all of ten minutes. Wainsess still hasn't been able to reattach the mainsail. Keyless and dead in the water. Bet the man's cheeks are burning like a furnace at the moment." Everyone in the tavern laughed, listening to Wainsess' disgrace. It was hard to imagine being taken down by a naval officer
and a girl.
Christian started laughing with the ridiculousness of it, but there was also an irrational sense of excitement, because the time was coming when they would lock horns—an inevitable feeling he'd had from the moment he'd seen her.
He couldn't even think of how it happened, but his interest in gathering information about her made sense now. It was her—she inspired Havencourt in this challenge. Normally, the former lieutenant was a sullen man, who wanted nothing in this world but his own misery. Now he was taking ships, stealing keys and trying to take the town. It wasn't as if he'd just woken up one morning and embraced piracy. This was the girl's doing. Everything came back to her.
Guildford would be pleased, his blood counting for something, it appeared. It didn't matter, Christian told himself; this town was still his, and if he needed to battle a girl for it, then so be it. Beating the girl was hardly dishonorable now that she'd taken Wainsess.
*
Christian strode up to one of his crew members tasked with keeping watch for the girl, as well as for Talbot.
"Have you seen either?" he asked the man sitting on a barrel, watching the comings and goings down at the port.
"Saw that Guildford girl and the navy gentleman walking down the beach—as far as the lagoon," the man said, drawing from his pipe.
Christian frowned. What were they up to now? More swordplay, no doubt, but why go as far as the lagoon? There were much closer places for privacy. Or perhaps they were working on some trick, meant to subdue an enemy, to gain them another key.
Shaking his head, he walked down the hot sand of the beach, still disbelieving that she had won a key. Then again, Wainsess was an idiot, so perhaps that wasn't remarkable.
But she was working on something and Christian wanted to know what, as it was probably something she would use against him. She would have to pull out something miraculous to get his key off him.
A Pirate's Ruse Page 8