by Diana Layne
The storm blew on through the night as she rode out the squall and kept watch over her ship. A time or two, waves taller than she was slashed her off her feet. She struggled to breathe through the wall of water as she dragged herself upright and hung on again, willing herself and her ship to survive the night.
The Gypsy Doll held. When at last the rain and wind slowed, Gina slumped over the wheel, unable to stand on her own. Minutes later, Mickey showed up.
“She made it through,” Gina mumbled, her voice sounding tired even to her own ears. She fumbled with the rope around her body, the knots wet and tight.
“Aye, Captain, that she did.” He helped her loosen and remove the rope. Gripping her arm, he guided her down the steps of the helm and to her cabin. Her numb legs shook with every step.
“Inspect the damage,” she told him. “Get us back on course, and keep a lookout for the LaDonna.”
“Aye, Captain, that I’ll do.”
She stumbled into her cabin and sank into the chair to tug off her soaked boots. She had to rest after that effort. Once recovered, she stripped off her rain slicker, then her sodden clothes, wiped dry with her linen towel, and dropped onto her bunk. Immediately she fell into a deep sleep. She didn’t know how long had passed when Mickey banged on her door to wake her.
“Ship ahead, Captain.”
She blinked. Tried to remember why sun was streaming through her porthole and she was lying on her bunk naked.
The long night of the storm came rushing back. Muscles sore and protesting, she struggled out of bed, pulled on some dry clothes, and limped onto deck.
“Is it the LaDonna?” she asked, eager for news of Charles.
“Nay, she’s too big.”
“No sight of the LaDonna then?”
Mickey shook his head.
Disappointment attacked her, angling toward despair. Had the LaDonna been lost? Were Charles and his crew now on the bottom of the ocean? Panic threatened, until she realized such thoughts would only make her ineffective as a captain and a danger to her men. Needing to be alert and decisive, she pushed concern for Charles and his ship aside.
“Can you see any markings on the ship?”
Mickey passed her the telescope. “Nay, she’s too far away.”
Gina put the telescope to her eye. The ship was still so far away it looked smaller than a child’s toy, and yet she could tell by the design it wasn’t the LaDonna. She turned slowly to look in different directions. The sun was high in the sky, the sea as calm as if the storm had never passed. With such a clear view, it was easy to see there were no other ships in sight. Chances looked good the Gypsy Doll would be going up against the Spanish ship alone.
“Slow us down, Mickey. We’ll sit and wait until we’re certain who she is. And give Captain Charles and his crew a chance to catch up.” She refused to think anything other than he’d be there as they planned.
“Just as well if they think we’re damaged from the storm,” Mickey pointed out.
“Lookout,” Gina called to the sailor in the crow’s nest. “Keep alert for the LaDonna.”
“We going after the Spanish if Captain Charles doesn’t make it in time?” Mickey asked.
And there was the rub. Was this the right ship? If so, could she engage a Spanish war ship on her own?
Gina paced the deck as the sun lowered in the sky. Still no sign of Charles, while the ship on the horizon loomed larger, close enough now that she could say for certain it was indeed a Spanish ship.
Chances were good it was the prey they were seeking. At this rate, since dark was falling, they’d pass it in the night. Where was the LaDonna?
“We need her to slow even more,” Gina told Mickey. “Hoist our Spanish flag half mast, make her think we’re damaged and need help. Light the lanterns.”
The dark would work in their favor. Though it was a moonlit night, the Spanish vision would be limited enough to be unable to tell they weren’t really damaged, and they should slow down to help.
She hoped Charles caught up with them during the night. But she couldn’t afford to let the ship pass while waiting on Charles. She’d never be able to catch up to it.
The night dragged on. Gina kept her lookouts changed and rested on two-hour shifts so they wouldn’t miss anything. And as the Spanish ship drew closer, she kept her commands low and quiet so her voice wouldn’t carry across the water.
Gina strode along the railing, keeping her gaze on the ship in the distance, knowing the chances were high she’d have to go into this battle alone.
So far, the ship seemed to be slowing. Had they seen the Spanish flag flying half-mast and now, as good countrymen, planned to help as she expected?
As dawn broke, she gave Mickey an order. “Have the gunners make a weapons check, and make it quiet.”
“Aye.”
The gunners scurried below to the cannon, quieter than shipboard mice. The Spanish ship was close enough now she could tell it was their target.
“Everyone ready and in position,” she instructed. Her men fell into their roles. This was something they were familiar with. Whether it was playing an injured ship or simply two ships passing, they knew what to do to lure unsuspecting prey. This was the first time, since her father had been a privateer, that she expected an all-out battle. As a captain, she had no experience in a fire fight, but her father had given her tips on how to win.
The Spanish ship sailed closer, and Gina moved to stand beside the helmsman. “Pull alongside her, mate. We’ll get her good and close before we show our guns.”
The air hovered with tension. Mickey stood beside her, ready to run and deliver the order to show the guns.
The Spanish ship crawled closer.
“Ready? Now, go, Mickey. And send Eduardo to me.”
He trotted off to give the order. Soon enough, she heard the flaps lift and knew the cannon were being pushed through the portholes.
Mickey came huffing back, the Spanish-born crewman alongside him ready to translate.
Just then the latest lookout scurried from the crow’s nest and told her another ship was on the horizon. She breathed a sigh, hopeful it was the LaDonna.
“Hoist the colors,” she said to Mickey, and then as the Spanish ship drew up alongside she called out in Spanish, “Captain, surrender and prepare to be boarded.”
The Spanish captain, resplendent in his red waistcoat with blue britches and jacket, chuckled, quivering his dark goatee and mustache. He called out, “A lady captain?”
She was used to being mocked as a woman captain and ignored his amusement, holding firm with her command.
When she didn’t respond to his laughter, he called out, “I think not, Lady Captain.” With that pronouncement, the Spanish captain gave the order to prepare his guns, her interpreter told her.
The captain of the Spanish ship turned back to her. “Prepare to be boarded yourself.”
Face off.
****
Charles paced along the deck of his ship, cursing the wind that had blown them off course but was now too light to get him back to the Gypsy Doll. He could row the ship faster, if he had an oar.
And what if the Gypsy Doll had been blown off course, too? Would he be able to find her? Find the Spanish ship? What if she found the Spanish ship first? She’d be facing a heavily armed ship alone.
He growled his frustration and paced faster.
She was an experienced pirate, but the nature of pirating was to pick on weaker, smaller ships, not go up against a ship armed for war. Facing a galleon armed with as many guns or more than your own took a lot of nerve.
Maybe that doll magic would work and somehow keep her safe.
“Ships ahead, Captain,” his crewman called down from the lookout.
“Ships? More than one?” Charles scurried up to the crow’s nest.
“Two of them, Captain. Dead ahead.” He handed Charles the telescope. “One’s the Gypsy Doll, she’s flying the colors, and the other is likely the Spanish ship. With that
smoke hovering, I’d say they’re in a battle,” he added.
As Charles peered through the scope, focusing on the two ships, his heart jumped into his throat.
****
“Fire!” Gina called. The smoke and noise from the booming cannon rumbled through her body. “Keep the aim above the water line. We don’t want her to sink.”
A cannon ball crashed through the railing, just below the helm. “Helmsman, bring her about. I want closer.”
She wanted to board and take the battle hand-to-hand, to save her ship the blasting. “Mickey, keep the gunners firing as we come about. I want to check on the LaDonna.”
She remembered the way he’d snuck up so fast the last time; she hoped his ship was as quick today. She climbed up to the crow’s nest and saw the LaDonna was definitely approaching full sail. “Hurry up, you fast little ship,” she muttered.
Minutes crawled by while the Gypsy Doll came about, this time pulling up alongside the Spanish ship. She could almost jump across. And now the LaDonna was so close, Gina could see her without the telescope.
Confidence buoying her, she called the order, “Throw the hooks, men. Let’s board.”
With intimidating yells, her men tossed the grappling hooks, threw down planks, and stormed the Spaniard’s deck. Gina pulled her sword and followed.
Steel clashed on steel.
The sounds of metal hitting metal rang over the deck. Men’s dying cries and triumphant shouts added to the noise. The smell of blood sailed on the sea breeze. Gina’s arm ached as she battled the Spanish sailors, whose numbers seemed to increase. She’d slash one down and another would take his place.
Her men had big hearts and a fighting spirit, but they were slowly being overwhelmed by the skill of trained swordsmen.
A loud boom shook her. The Spanish ship was still firing—and at this close range there was no missing. She twirled and looked back at the Gypsy Doll. A hole gaped in her side, but still above the water line. It wouldn’t take much adjustment to hit below the water, and the Spanish captain had no need not to sink her ship.
“Fight harder, men, we must take them!” she yelled and redoubled her efforts, slashing and slicing, no matter that her sword arm felt tired enough to fall off. She had to get control of this ship before they sank the Gypsy Doll.
Slash, slash, slash, parry, thrust. Her heart pounded. Her lungs ached with the exertion. They needed help. Charles had lowered his ship’s dinghies into the water, men rowing to reach the fight faster. She thought he was standing at the front of the first one, urging his men to row faster.
Still, she had to reach the captain. She rammed forward through the crush of fighting men as another cannon shot shook the deck.
Mickey could order the Gypsy Doll to fire back, but it would be useless. She didn’t want to sink this ship with all the gold on board. She was leading with her sword, cleaving her way through, when she saw Charles scramble over the side railing. Their eyes met.
He called, “Gina, behind you.”
She whirled, blocking a blow that would have run her through. The sword went wide, but not wide enough. It ripped through her shirt, the edge cutting her waist as her opponent pulled his sword free.
Gina stumbled. Damnation, but that hurt.
Acting on instinct, she ran the soldier through before he recovered his footing, then pushed him off her sword with her foot.
Charles joined her, alarm in his eyes. “How bad?”
She held onto her burning side. “Just a slice, not terrible.”
“It’s bleeding freely, though.”
“Step aside.” She shoved him aside and blocked a blow aimed at his back. Charles spun and sliced neatly through the soldier’s neck with his broadsword. Blood spurted as he fell. “Keep watch,” Charles told her. The stench of blood grew stronger. The deck would surely be running red soon.
Unceremoniously, Charles turned the dead soldier over and hacked off a piece of the man’s jacket and shirttail.
“He won’t need these,” Charles said as he stood and looked around. “Here, turn this way. He pulled her shirt up, did a quick survey of the gash. “You really need to be sewn up, but no time.”
He folded the cloth and placed it over the wound. She flinched at the pain, but stayed still.
“Hold this.” While she pressed the square of shirt over her wound, he folded the strip of jacket and placed it on top of the linen shirt to make a thicker pad. “Hold that, too.”
He pulled his belt free, wrapped it around her waist, and tied it tightly to hold the makeshift bandage in place.
Another boom. The ball hit her ship again. Still above the water line, but the Gypsy Doll was going to need extensive repairs. Each hit to her ship felt like a blow to her stomach; the pain from her wound paled in comparison.
“Thanks.” Her heart stuck in her throat, she grabbed him. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the captain and stop those gunners before they sink my ship.”
They pushed through the fighting men, engaged swords when they couldn’t avoid it, but focused on getting to the captain. Close to the quarterdeck, she saw the hornsman and had a better idea. Especially when her gaze landed on Eduardo, her Spanish-speaking crewman.
“Charles,” she called over the noise of clanking steel and yelling men. “Keep after the captain. I have another idea.”
“Fuego!” They were close enough to hear the Spanish captain shouting orders.
Another boom. She didn’t understand Spanish, but there was no mistaking that order had been to fire on her ship. She looked in time to see the ball blast below the water. Her stomach sank, as surely as her ship would sink if they didn’t stop those cannon shots.
“Charles! The Gypsy Doll!”
How many hits like that could her ship take?
Charles met her look. The alarm she felt echoed in his eyes. More of his men had reached the ship. Their sheer numbers were turning the battle to a defeat of the Spaniards. But would it be in time?
“Hurry, go!” She urged Charles onward, then searched for Eduardo again. “Eduardo!” she yelled and motioned. “Come with me.”
He waved to signal he had heard her, and she took off after the Spanish ship’s hornsman.
She sheathed her sword, pulled out her knife, and came up behind her prey. She held the blade to his neck and felt him begin to shake.
“Eduardo,” she said, “tell him to play the signal to stop the battle.” Her side throbbed, and the knife felt heavy, but she held it steady at the Spaniard’s throat.
The man shook so badly, she didn’t know if he could blow his horn. After two weak attempts, he finally managed to give the signal.
The soldiers stopped. The sound even startled the captain, allowing Charles to disarm him with a sword slice upward. The captain stood with his hands up, clearly conceding defeat.
“Spanish soldiers, your captain is our prisoner. Drop your weapons.” Eduardo translated Gina’s words.
Still, the soldiers hesitated, all eyes turned to the captain. Charles prodded the man with the tip of his broadsword, and said something in Spanish. Her eyebrows rose. She didn’t realize Charles spoke Spanish. He must have learned when he was their prisoner.
The captain, encouraged by the large sword at his belly, repeated the order. The Spanish soldiers dropped their swords.
“Pirates, gather the weapons. Take the men below.”
“Gina,” Charles called. Her gaze went to him. “The Gypsy Doll.”
She looked behind her. An indescribable agony launched an assault on her heart.
“My ship,” she whispered, barely able to comprehend what she was seeing.
The Gypsy Doll was sinking.
Chapter 7
“Gina, come guard the captain. Eduardo, help her,” Charles called.
“What?” Gina asked, but he had no time to explain. Instead, he left her with a hard, fast kiss. “I’ll be back.”
He ran through the crowd, dodging pirates as they herded Spanish soldiers. Grabbing a c
ouple of his crewmen, he directed, “Cut the ropes. The Gypsy Doll is sinking.”
If they didn’t get the Spanish ship free and moving out of the way, the Gypsy Doll would suck the Spanish ship under with her. He found his first mate. “John, make sure she’s cut free and sail this ship away.”
“Captain, what are you doing?”
“Something I have to get off the Gypsy Doll.”
“Captain?”
Charles didn’t take time for explanations. He’d written all the information he’d collected on that doll. He couldn’t lose her. He climbed on the rail and dove into the water.
Water swooshed around him as he went down, down. His eardrums felt like they were going to explode. He turned and kicked, heading back to the surface. His head broke free and he gasped air.
The skeleton crew left behind on the Gypsy Doll was abandoning the ship. No one would get in his way.
He swam to the ship and climbed aboard.
“Captain, are you daft?” one of the crewman asked.
“Something I have to save. Get aboard the Spanish ship.”
The Gypsy Doll was sinking fast. Water was almost up to the railing. He hurried to Gina’s cabin, thankful the captain’s quarters were on deck and not below. Water dripped off every footstep.
He burst into her room and grabbed the doll. But he needed a way to keep her dry. He found Gina’s rain slicker, rolled the doll up in it. He reached for his belt, then remembered it was wrapped around Gina’s waist and had a moment of concern for her. Had the bleeding stopped? Was she getting weak from the blood loss?
The ship shifted, throwing him off balance. Hurry. Searching the room, he found a shirt and used it to tie the bundle, then tied the sleeves of the shirt around his waist, leaving his hands free for the swim back to the Spanish ship. Water already covered the deck and sloshed over his feet. He had to hurry. If he was too close when she went under, he’d be sucked down in the whirlpool to a watery grave. His heart rate furious, he hopped onto the rail, dove off, and swam for everything he was worth.