Cappy had rushed on deck and stood beside Thorn, while the crew tensely waited for orders from their captain.
Thorn spoke to his first mate. “What in the hell is going on, Cappy? To my knowledge, we have done nothing to provoke the Turkish Navy.”
“I don’t know, Captain, but look—they are beginning to form a line of battle!”
It was true—the Turkish ships were sailing three abreast, and had been joined by a fourth, larger ship, a seventy-four gun man-of-war.
“If it’s to be a fight,” Cappy observed, “we are badly outnumbered, but we have the best gunners. Each man’s been trained by a master, and they all know their assignments. The Turkish Navy is notorious for their inferior gunners.”
Thorn’s face was grim as he stared straight ahead. “Even if they are inferior, with all their firepower they are likely to land a fortuitous shot. Our only hope is to make it into open water. There we have a chance—slim though it may be.”
Quickly Thorn signaled to have all sails set, gambling that the Turkish ships would not dare carry a full sail in the wind that was quickly becoming gale force.
In the belly of the ship, Brittany heard the sound of an explosion, and she looked at Achmed, her eyes wide with terror. “What was that? What can be happening?”
The black giant shook his head. “I do not know. It sounded like cannon fire. Stay hidden while I go topside and inquire into the matter.”
Brittany blinked her eyes and nodded. She was terrified to be left alone. She was in a hostile world which she did not understand, and she had no one to cling to except her steadfast Achmed.
Thorn saw the huge black man the moment he stepped onto deck. Turning to Cappy, the captain’s eyes snapped with anger. “What in the hell is going on, Mr. Hamish? What is that man doing on board the Victorious?”
“Sir, you were occupied with other matters when he came on board. I forgot to tell you about him. You will remember him. His name is Achmed, and he has booked passage for America.”
Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. I didn’t recognize him at first because of his plain garments. There can be no mistake he is the Grand Vizier’s servant.” Thorn looked past his first mate to the oncoming warships. “It just might be that I know why we are being pursued by the Turkish Navy, Cappy. Did the man bring a woman on board with him, Cappy?”
“No, Captain. He was alone.”
Thorn glanced back to see the frigate gaining on him. He turned to the starboard so quickly, his top mast almost touched the plunging waves. “Something is not right here, Cappy. Unless I am mistaken, that eunuch smuggled a woman on board while you weren’t looking,” Thorn said grimly.
“Nay, Captain. All he brought was a leather satchel with his belongings and a large crate containing a gift to you from the Grand Vizier.”
Thorn’s blue eyes darkened, and he stared at his first mate in irritation. “Could the crate be large enough to hold a woman?”
Cappy looked bemused. “I…suppose so, but—Yes, it would have been a tight fit, but it would have been large enough.”
There was no time for Thorn to act on his suspicions, for at that moment, the Turkish frigate fired a succession of volleys which came dangerously close to hitting the Victorious. Thorn would need all his skills if he was to avoid disaster. Later, he would deal with the eunuch.
Cappy was feeling like a fool for his lack of perception. By allowing the eunuch to take passage on the Victorious, he had probably brought the whole of the Turkish Navy down on his captain’s head.
The captain yelled out his orders so as to be heard above the howling winds. A heavy gust caught the Victorious’s sails, and she was moving out of the Golden Horn and into the Sea of Marmora, but still the fortress loomed ahead.
Admiral Kainardji stood on deck of the Turkish frigate, believing he had his prey caught between him and the shore batteries. What he did not realize was that his prey did not know the word “defeat.”
Thorn realized he could not outdistance the Turkish vessels since he was running with a full cargo which was slowing him down. He could only hope to outmaneuver the enemy—a slim chance, but his only one.
Hope sprung to life within the crew of the American ship when they watched the command frigate leave her sister ships behind in her pursuit of the Victorious. This gave their captain the chance to pit all his skills against the one ship, instead of four. The crew felt Captain Stoddard was worth any dozen Turks when it came to matching of wits.
The crew was startled when their captain maneuvered close to shore, ordered them to let down the canvases, and then turned to the lee side.
“If the enemy follows true to form,” he called out to Cappy, “they will swing into the wind. And when they do, they will be vulnerable to our cannons,” Thorn shouted to be heard against the wailing wind. “This will be our chance to do the most damage. Have the guns primed and ready to fire as she passes.”
Just as Thorn had predicted, the frigate turned sharply, and when she did, he gave the signal to fire.
Seven cannons spit fire, hitting their target and fatally damaging her hull. The enemy ship found ered, and her gunports had not fired but were open and taking in water from the rough sea. Thorn ordered a broadside that ripped the enemy ship open from the wind and water.
A loud cheer went up from the crew of the Victorious. They had taken first victory, for one enemy ship was badly crippled. Of course, there was always the danger that she might still use her guns, so they could not yet claim victory—and now the other three ships were bearing down on them. But the Victorious had struck so quickly it had left the enemy dazed and unprepared.
Thorn Stoddard’s code of honor and bravery compelled his crew to fight beside him. Even against impossible odds, it never occurred to them that he would not win. As the day progressed, and with each successful encounter, their belief in their captain’s ability intensified.
While the crew of the Victorious cheered, their captain turned the ship and brought her alongside the enemy, passing so closely that their riggings touched.
Thorn then ordered another firing of cannon, and the enemy frigate exploded into splinters.
Turning the Victorious to catch the wind, Thorn knew they still faced insurmountable odds that had only been lessened by one. There were still the fortress guns and the other three ships to deal with.
Going with the wind behind him, Thorn noticed that the enemy ships had piled on more canvas. No, his troubles were not over; they had just begun.
“Hoist the signal to prepare for action,” Thorn ordered. “Reload and make ready all cannon!”
Thorn concluded that he had only two choices. He could either try to outdistance the enemy by dumping his cargo overboard, or he could try for a fight.
By now the sky was dark and a heavy rain had begun to fall.
Thorn saw that the enemy had turned and was headed for shore, where a heavy barrage of cannon fire from the cliff stronghold spit out a continuous bombardment.
Cappy seemed to read his captain’s mind. “They have the supremacy of numbers, but we have the skill. Do we fight or run, Captain?”
“We fight,” Thorn stated with conviction. “Because we are of a lesser strength, we shall have to hit—sail away—and hit again. We will bother them with the per sis tence of a stinging wasp. We shall wound the enemy little by little, until he bleeds. Then we shall finish him off. Pray he does not send for reinforcements.”
“But we don’t know these waters, and the storm will not be in our favor. It looks like the Turks have decided to anchor and ride the storm out. Should we not take our advantage and flee?”
“Not at all, Cappy. If the enemy can anchor, so shall we.” Thorn’s eyes brightened with the challenge of battle. “Or…we could make them think we have anchored.”
Cappy’s eyes sparkled. “So, we are to fool them into thinking the storm deterred our movements?”
“It seems to be to the likely thing to do under the circumstances.”
Thorn motioned for his first mate to take the wheel while he adjusted his spyglass so he could study the enemy. His jaw locked in a grim line, and he slammed the spyglass against his palm. “Damn, they have raised the Blood Flag, signifying that there will be no quarter.”
“Whatever have we done to provoke such action, Captain?”
“Past sinking their frigate, I can only guess. I would wager we have that woman the sultan is looking for on board, and apparently the Turks are willing to go to great lengths to get her back.”
“But, Captain, to offer no quarter and no mercy when our two countries are not at war—this is barbaric.”
“They don’t seem to be as concerned about that as you are. Inform the men that we must fight, because surrender is not a possibility for us. We must win or die trying. Tell them of the gravity of our situation, and warn them what will happen if we should be taken.”
Brittany buried her face in her hands as her body trembled with fear.
Achmed tried to soothe her anxiety with words of optimism. “I talked with one of the crewmen, and he told me that Captain Stoddard’s courage is legendary, and it is said that he is a tactical genius. He enjoys danger and scoffs at death. I have never seen such devotion in a ship’s crew.”
Brittany knew that Achmed was merely trying to make conversation to take her mind off her fears. “Why are the men so devoted to him?” she asked, but did not really wish to know.
“I was told that he cares about them, and that if asked, he could tell you the names of each of their wives and children. Hard-bitten sailors of every rank would follow him into hell if he asked it of them. On the other hand, with the ladies, I was assured he has an irresistible charm.”
Brittany remembered seeing Captain Stoddard when he had been with Simijin. Of course, he had been too far away for her to make out any detail of his face, but he had seemed handsome. “I hope he is as good as his men believe, Achmed, for it will take a miracle if the American captain is to win against the Turkish Navy.”
“Stranger events have happened,” the big man said cheerfully. “I find this all very exciting.”
She shivered. “Tell me more about this American captain.”
“I know nothing more of him. But I could tell you a tale I was once told about another sea captain.”
Knowing Achmed as she did, Brittany realized he was again trying to keep her mind off what was happening above deck. “Tell me,” she urged.
“This captain in my story was French, and this event I am about to relate to you took place during a battle with the English. The captain had his right arm shot off, then his left arm, then one of his legs. He had himself put in a tub of bran to slow the bleeding, and he continued to give orders until he died from loss of blood. Is that not marvelous?”
Brittany leaned her head back, feeling sick inside. “Do not tell me anymore. I do not want to hear about blood and dying.”
Achmed felt sorrow in his heart that he had upset her when he had merely wanted to make her feel better. She knew the seriousness of the battle that raged around her; she also understood that none of them might live past the night.
The eunuch vowed that if it came to going down in this ship, or being taken by the sultan’s men, he intended that Brittany would go down with the ship. The English Rose would not want her daughter turned over to the sultan.
Like a phantom ship, the Victorious rose up out of the darkness, came up on the lee side of her enemy, and fired all port cannonade before disappearing in a cloud of gunsmoke. The enemies’ masts came crashing down onto her deck, and she was listing badly, and fatally crippled.
Thorn then turned into the wind to take on the man-of-war. Again he came out of the darkness to unexpectedly surprise the enemy who was anchored near the cliffs.
With a quickness of mind, Thorn ordered his gunman to fire at the enemy ship’s unprotected stern, which splintered with such a force that it sent debris flying into the air. Thorn then had his cannoneer blast the ship with a heavy, concentrated fire.
As darkness fell, the wind intensified and still the Victorious was not out of danger. Across her stern, Thorn faced two enemy ships, and the night battle was lit by flames of the burning man-of-war.
The cannonading from the fort went on all night, but with the benefit of the storm, and the enemies’ inability to see their target, they never came close to the Victorious.
Brittany clamped her hands over her ears as flashes of light and the thunder of guns jarred the ship. She wondered if it would not have been far better to have faced the sultan than to die here in hostile darkness.
The storm played out during the night, and the daylight revealed the tragic sight of the battle that had taken place through the hours of darkness.
Of the four enemy ships, one was burning with her rigging crumpled and plunging into the rough seas, two had sunk, and the last was crippled, though still intact, and she drifted away, unable to control her direction.
Well out of reach of the stronghold’s guns, the Victorious was battered but triumphant! She sailed away with every sail hoisted to the yard and the cheer of her crew filling the morning air.
Chapter Nine
The calm blue waters of the Mediterranean stretched before the Victorious in a wide, seemingly unending, shimmering expanse. Thorn, looking tired and haggard after the long battle, turned the wheel over to his third in command. Even though his muscles ached and his body cried out for sleep, there was something to do before he could rest.
His blue eyes were burning with anger as he called out to Cappy: “Have the watch keep a keen eye out for Turkish vessels. I doubt that they will pursue us this far, but one can never be certain what they might do.” His expression was grim. “Find our passenger, Cappy, and bring him to my cabin at once. And have the hold thoroughly searched. I suspect you will find a woman hiding there.”
Thorn turned away, moving into his cabin. His bed looked inviting, but it would be in the late afternoon before he could sleep. Dropping down at his desk, he stared at a map of the Mediterranean without really seeing it. His mind was on the battle they had just come through, and the audacity of the Sultan of Turkey to attack an American vessel without just cause.
Hell, if the sultan had contacted him, he would have immediately turned the woman over to him. The affair of two men fighting over some woman would have been of no interest to him, except that he had been used by the Grand Vizier. The last thing he wanted was complication in his life. But like it or not, he was now at odds with the Turkish government.
He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers. After the battle last night, the Victorious would never be allowed to sail in Turkish waters again. But what did it matter to him, since this would probably be his last voyage?
A heavy rap sounded on the door, and Thorn admitted Cappy and the big eunuch to his cabin.
Achmed smiled, flashing a mouthful of white teeth, and his voice boomed out with enthusiasm. “The battle was magnificent, Captain Stoddard. I am glad I was here to witness your glorious triumph.”
Thorn stared at the man in silence for a long moment. Achmed wore a heavy headdress and brown cossack trousers, brown boots, and blue collar buttoned to the chin. Thorn wondered with distaste what would ever induce a man such as this one to give up his manhood to look after another man’s harem.
“I am told that you want to go to America, Achmed.”
“That is so, Captain Stoddard.”
“I was also told that you insisted on remaining in the hold, rather than above deck.”
“It was not that I insisted, Captain. It was that I preferred to be in the hold rather than sleeping on deck.”
Thorn’s eyes glinted. “And I insist that you wanted to remain where you could keep watch over the woman.”
Achmed met the captain’s eyes, and he knew there was no reason to deny the truth. “Yes, Captain Stoddard, I have deceived you—but it was for a good reason.” He raised his head, looking proud and haughty. “It is my sw
orn duty to watch over this woman for Lord Simijin.”
At that moment, there was a commotion outside the door, and two of Thorn’s men entered, leading a veiled woman who was twisting and kicking, trying to free herself from their grip. Achmed reached out to her, and when the two men saw the look in his dark eyes, they relinquished her into his care.
Brittany stared through her transparent veil at the man who was captain of the Victorious. On seeing him up close, she was struck by his rugged handsomeness. She could not judge his height since he was seated at his desk, but his blue coat fit snugly across his broad shoulders. His white cravat was untied and disheveled.
She raised her eyes almost reluctantly to his face. He was tanned, and his face was covered with a dark stubble because he had not shaved since the battle. Tired lines fanned out about his deep blue eyes, and she had the strongest urge to take that head and rest it against her shoulder. That feeling did not last long, however, for he stood up to his full six-foot height and his eyes became piercing and accusing.
Brittany shrank back against Achmed, grim and silent, waiting for Captain Stoddard to announce her punishment. His voice was deep and authoritative when he spoke.
“Can I assume that this is the woman who brought all hell down on our head yesterday and last night?” Thorn directed his question to Achmed.
Lord Simijin had told Achmed that Brittany was to be presented as a woman of his harem so her privacy might be respected and so she could hide behind her veils. “This is the woman who is sought after by the Sultan Selim, Honored Captain. Lord Simijin will be most appreciative, and will reward you handsomely, when he learns of your courage in keeping her out of the sultan’s hands.”
Thorn looked with distaste on the woman shrouded in blue veils. He suddenly felt repulsed by her. The thought of a woman allowing herself to be used so harshly by a man was beyond his understanding. It did not speak well of the woman’s character.
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