by Ruth Kaufman
As the country had not the funds nor the ships for a Royal Navy, merchant ships were used to patrol the channel, each giving two weeks service a year to the king in exchange for various rights and privileges. The Cinque Ports fleet was formed centuries ago, providing ships from Dover, Hythe, Romney, Sandwich and Hastings. And even the ancient towns of Rye and Winchelsea had joined.
As the ongoing war with France was more or less paused the last few years as result of the plague killing nearly half of Europe’s population, England, for now, ruled the channel. The French still hadn’t recovered from the battle of Sluys fourteen years ago, when King Edward III conquered their fleet after they thought to burn and ravish the English coastline for over a year.
“We are going far off course,” informed his first mate Silas, steering the ship in the direction Garrett pointed. “The rest of the ships are going to Great Yarmouth and not able to help should we be attacked.”
“Blaise, get up to the lookout and survey the situation,” commanded Garrett.
“Aye, Captain,” said the boy who served as cook to the crew, and started his ascent up the rigging to the basket attached to the center mast.
“We have to follow in pursuit,” Garrett explained to Silas. “I thought I saw black flags. It could be the pirate ship that’s been alluding us all these years.” Garrett touched the scar on his cheek, knowing his reason for following the ship was also a personal vendetta of sorts. If his hunch were correct, the man named Gruffydd would be aboard. He’d heard him mention Cap’n the day he scarred him, so knew he must work for naught more than a bandit of the seas.
Silas looked at him in knowing. “’Tis a dangerous pursuit and will jeopardize every man here. This wouldn’t be more than just protecting the channel would it? Like a personal debt mayhap?”
Garrett knew he was right. He shouldn’t be putting his men’s lives in jeopardy because of his own past. Still, the raiding had to stop and ’twas their duty to their king that they pursued the ship.
Garrett had a crew of twenty-one men and a boy, all willing to fight if need be. And in return for their two weeks of service to the king every year, they were granted rights and privileges not held by commoners. No tolls or taxes, a self-governing of punishment to those who shed blood or fled, and claim to flotsam and jetsam after a year, were among the rewards.
“Get the archers ready,” Garrett instructed as they gained on the ship. Though he had portsmen, he also had soldiers. “’Tis as I thought. Pirates. Men, ready your weapons!”
“Are we using the grappling hooks, captain?” asked one of the men.
“Aye,” he said, rubbing the side of his face. “But if I tarry on their ship and it looks like they’ll take us, then leave me rather than be captured or surrender.”
“But Captain . . .” started Silas.
“That is an order. If things get bad, sail to Great Yarmouth. Tell the others what happened. We will have strength in numbers.”
As they approached the ship, Garrett could see someone up in the lookout, as well as a hawk circling above. He readied the crossbow at his side. This is the first he’d take out, hoping the man wouldn’t alert the others. He’d do it before he even thought about boarding.
Chapter 3
Garrett made his way to the forecastle, and climbed the raised platform as they approached the other ship. Sure enough, black sails. This was the pirate ship he’d been searching for. What a discovery to finally find it.
The wind picked up from the approaching storm, filling the single square sail of the cog. The clinker-built hull had high sides, which served as good protection from marauders of the sea. However, this was a merchant ship, and the flat bottom was designed for loading and unloading cargo in shallow ports. It wasn’t designed for rough seas. It could very well capsize in a strong wind.
The ship held one hundred tuns in the hold, but now they were traveling light, at only half its capacity. This made him nervous. Garrett eyed the dark, roiling sky overhead. He knew what he had to do, but still the crew’s safety concerned him.
“Archers, prepare,” he cried. “Silas, take her in close. I am going to board off the forecastle. Get the grappling hooks and ropes ready,” he called over his shoulder as they came up alongside the ship.
“Aye, captain,” said Silas.
Garrett saw the crew of his target rushing around, looking very disorganized. He would be able to use this to his advantage. But the man in the lookout could have a weapon to throw or something to drop. He looked up and aimed his crossbow. He couldn’t allow himself to be a sitting target from the man up above. He pulled back the windlass and lined up his bolt for the shot.
Echo quickly replaced her cap, tucking her hair underneath. She would never be able to fight with her hair in her eyes, now that the wind had picked up tremendously. Skye and the male osprey flew in circles just above the ship, and she knew they wanted to land in the nest to get out of the storm.
She looked down to the deck to see her father and the crew running around aimlessly, trying to prepare for the battle about to take place. She knew if they hadn’t been soused, they would have already been boarding and attacking the Cinque Ports ship.
“Hard to starboard,” shouted her father, giving the sternsman the order to turn the ship. The Seahawk bounced and tilted in the high waves that the storm now brought upon them. A gale of wind hit Echo head on, nearly knocking her from the basket. “Go to half sail,” shouted her father, but Echo knew that was going to be impossible now that they had to concentrate on the attack. The cold, sharp rain sliced down upon her like arrows from an archer’s bow.
That’s when she spied the man aboard the Cinque Ports ship upon the forecastle and aiming his crossbow right at her! She barely had time to dodge out of the way of his bolt, and caught herself as the ship jerked and she had to grab on to the pole mast in the basket in order not to be thrown out.
The sickening shriek of a bird brought her attention upward. The man’s bolt had lodged into one of the hawks, taking it down into the sea.
“Nay!” she cried, not knowing if it was Skye or the male hawk that just went to its death at the hands of her attackers. The ship leaned once again, and the two eggs rolled out of the nest and through the slats in the basket and over the side. She watched in horror as they plummeted down to the deck far below. “Damnation and hellfire,” she shouted, first looking to the path the eggs had taken, and then back to the passenger from the Cinque Ports who was jumping from his fighting post by means of the bowsprit. He foolishly boarded their ship even before his crew tossed the grappling lines.
“Attack!” shouted her father from below her. The crew of the Seahawk picked up long wooden poles with spikes and axes and rushed toward the side of the ship. The Cinque Ports men were just throwing their grappling hooks aboard, but nature took its course and one more huge gust of wind changed the outcome for everyone.
Garrett watched in disbelief as the wind hit their single square sail head on and sent his ship backwards away from the vessel he now stood upon. His archers opened fire from the castle decks, but the strong winds sent their arrows off course. While several landed on deck, not a one hit its mark.
He feared for his men in the storm, and now he feared for his own life as well. He stood alone amiss a band of cutthroats that would most likely kill him before they’d had their breakfast.
“Damn!” The ships separated so quickly in the storm that he knew there would be no retribution for these pirates now. He could only hope Silas would head the ship for Great Yarmouth as he’d instructed, and not be capsized in the storm.
He turned and raised his crossbow as two of the crew rushed him. He managed to loose one bolt and it grazed the shoulder of a man who cried out. The weapon was too bulky and the windlass too slow to load quickly. He threw it down and grabbed his sword from his weaponbelt instead. But before he even had a chance to use it, someone from up in the rigging dropped atop him, knocking him to the ground.
“Ye killed m’
bird!” came a high voice in his ear.
His sword was knocked out of his hand from the impact, and he reached for the dagger at his waist instead. The attacker’s small hand reached out in a strong grip, digging his nails into Garrett’s wrist, trying to make him release it. The edge of the man’s sword rested against his throat as the rest of the rowdy crew came forward and urged the man on.
“Aye, let’s see ye spear ’im,” called out one man.
“Kill ’im,” shouted another.
Garrett managed to unarm the man, and in the tossing of the ship from the waves, their bodies rolled together over the deck only to be stopped by the planking of the ship’s wall.
He didn’t understand why none of the rest of the men stepped in to seize him. Instead, they almost found it amusing to watch him and this young man struggle. He managed to pin his attacker to the ground. He held his dagger to the man’s throat. The pirates behind him laughed and shouted in the pouring rain. Water dripped down off his long hair and hit the pinned man in the eyes.
“Devil take ye, ye landlubber king’s bitch!
The men laughed behind him, and Garrett now thought he understood why. This man’s voice was high and his body small, but if his instincts served him correctly, he’d been fooled. He yanked the man’s cap from his head and ebony tresses spilled around his captor’s head. As he looked closer at the man’s face through the dirt and grime, he realized this was not a man at all, but a woman!
His surprise at his findings caught him off guard, and in that split second, the woman raised her knee between his legs causing him to release a sharp breath and double over. She grabbed his dagger and flipped him over, this time pinning him below her with his own dagger’s blade pressed against his neck. He was amazed by the quickness and cunning of the woman and also her easiness in pilfering his weapon. She wore a dark quilted gambeson over a long-sleeved white tunic covered by yet a second tunic, her one forearm wrapped in leather strips. Her legs were clad in chausses. Short leather boots covered her feet.
“Enough!” The pirate whom Garrett realized must be the captain, pushed his way through the crowd of raucous men. “Echo, release him.”
“Nay!” she ground out. “I’ll not let the man who killed m’bird get away with it.” Just then, a sea hawk landed on the wall of the ship letting out a shriek in the pouring rain. “Skye!” she shouted.
The woman released him and jumped to her feet, and the captain yanked Garrett up by the front of his surcoat.
“You!” A man stepped forward, his hand on his bleeding arm that had been grazed by Garrett’s bolt. Garrett looked to the man and his blood boiled.
“Gruffydd,” he ground out, his scar stinging just from looking at the man.
“You know ’im?” The captain did not release his hold, but looked over to Gruffydd.
The man looked quickly toward the captain and then glanced away. “Nay, Cap’n,” was his response.
“You should damned well remember me,” shouted Garrett through the pouring rain. “After all, when we fought at Shrewsbury you saw to give me this!” He turned his head for all to see the scar. The girl put the bird on her shoulder and walked back to join them.
“Nay,” said Gruffydd, “I don’t.”
“Then let me refresh your memory,” said Garrett. “You were hunting down Madoc ap Powell when I stepped in and saved his life.”
“What?” the captain released his hold and sent another of his men to tie Garrett’s hands. His angry dark eyes looked over to Gruffydd. “Ye tol’ me ye never found Madoc. So ye lied? And ye failed te bring ’im back te me?”
“Nay, Cap’n,” said Gruffydd. “’Tis not like that atall.”
“Who’s Madoc?” asked the girl curiously. “And Father, why did you want him?”
So, the girl was the captain’s daughter. Interesting. And so odd to see a woman aboard a ship, and twice as odd to see her dressed like a man and fighting and acting like one as well.
“Why don’ ye tell her?” said Gruffydd. “If not, I will.”
“Tell me what?” she asked.
“Gruffydd, I’ll kill you for what you did to me,” interrupted Garrett.
“No need te kill ’im,” the captain said to Garrett. In one sharp motion he ran his sword through the man’s chest, then removed it quickly. He wiped the blood on his chausses, no emotion at all upon his face. Gruffydd’s eyes bugged out and he staggered backwards, being stopped and held up by some of the crewmembers.
“Father!” screamed Echo.
“What did ye do?” asked one of the men.
“Cap’n, he wuz one of us,” said another.
“He betrayed me,” growled the captain. “And if any of you ever think o’ betrayin’ me, ye’ll suffer the same fate. Now throw ’im overboard and get th’ ship out o’ the storm.”
Two of the men threw Gruffydd’s body over the side of the ship. Another walked over to the captain’s side. “What about the Cinque Ports ship?” he asked.
The captain squinted, looking into the storm for the ship. Garrett could no longer see it, and only hoped it fared well.
“Let it go fer now,” said the captain, holding a hand to his head. “Me achin’ head is not ready fer a chase in a storm. I need some food and more rum.”
“What about him?” asked the man holding on to Garrett.
“Let me kill ’im,” broke in the girl. Her bird flew off and headed up toward the lookout basket. She sauntered up to his side, running his own dagger along his collarbone. “After all, he did kill Skye’s mate and now her eggs are gone as well.”
“Not now,” said the captain, once again holding his head. “Put ’im in a barrel and nail it shut, and keep ’im in the brig til I decide what to do wi’ ’im.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said the man. Then two of the crew pulled Garrett away. As he looked back toward the girl, his eyes met with hers.
“I never meant to kill the bird,” he explained. He’d meant to take her out with the bolt instead, but he didn’t think it would be in his favor to point that out at the moment.
She didn’t say anything, just stared at him with dark, midnight eyes. ’Twas a gaze that seared through to his very soul. One he would never forget. He didn’t know why she was looking at him that way, but only hoped he’d have the chance to find out before they decided to kill him.
Chapter 4
Echo watched the prisoner being hauled to the brig, her body still feeling the excitement of the romp on the deck. It’d been too long since she’d had contact like this on any of their excursions. It felt damned good to use her skills. And this man was intriguing. He was nothing like the crew, but more like the dead nobleman, Edgar. She was sure her father would see to it that this man ended up dead as well.
The stranger’s words almost sounded like an apology when he said he never meant to kill the bird. She heard the sincerity in his voice, but she couldn’t trust him. He was a man. And one of the king’s lackeys nonetheless. Naught but trouble could come from keeping him aboard the Seahawk.
She’d seen what happened last time her father thought to take prisoner of one of the king’s men. She knew from the moment they’d fished Edgar the nobleman from the sea that her life would never be the same. This man reminded her a lot of Edgar. She saw something in his eyes just now that almost made her feel like she was looking at the deceased man once again.
He had the same long nose and the same hazel eyes. Even the way his mouth turned up at the corner in an arrogant but brave façade reminded her of the father of her baby. She shook the thought from her head.
She followed the captain to the area of the ship under the sterncastle that served as a place for the crew to sleep, and was also used for cooking. Once out of the rain, she removed her wet outer gambeson and shivered, as ’twas too windy to make a fire. Instead, salted herring and hardtack – hard crackers made of flour, water and salt - were passed around. This was followed by a tankard of the latest wine from the hogshead tied to the ship from one of
their latest excursions.
“Father, why did you kill Gruffydd?” she asked.
“Arrrgh, he was worthless and b’trayed me.”
“Who was this man named Madoc he was trying to find for you?”
“Hush! I don’t want te talk of it any more. Now don’t ask me again.”
She didn’t want to anger her father, as it only brought misery to the whole ship when he was roiled. Instead, she knew of another way to find her answers. The rain subsided, but the winds were still strong. She made her way across the deck and opened the raised door in the floor leading to the belly of the ship. Sebastian - the first mate, and Filtch came up the stairs.
“Where are ye goin’ Echo?” asked Sebastian. Filtch continued back up on deck.
“I’m just tryin’ te get out of the rain,” she told him.
He shook his head with a smile. “The prisoner is in the last barrel,” he told her knowingly. “But don’t let yer father catch ye down here or he will have yer head.”
“Aye,” she answered. “Sebastian, do you know why my father was lookin’ for a man named Madoc?”
“Now if I tol’ ye, he would have me head, so don’t ye worry about it atall.”
Once he left, she made her way right to the barrel containing the prisoner. Water dripped down all around her from the slatted flooring on the deck above. She waded through the water and grabbed an iron bar resting against another barrel. She put the pronged ends under the lid and popped it open.
Garrett looked up, surprised they were opening his confinement after they’d just put him inside it. He’d been planning his escape, but this made it even sweeter. He jumped up, pushing the lid aside, meaning to use it as a weapon until he saw the startled look on the face of the girl.