Black White and Shades of Greyy

by ElissaBeth Frear

  “Oh I am glad my name is not on these! He’s nothing but a two bit desk puppy.” He said to himself.

  The next morning Captain Bishop called an emergency meeting of all his crew and any of the other captains that were near and available. There had to be a plan to counter what he knew was a futile attack on renegades who followed no “rules of engagement” that the Commander had ordered. He was also focused on gaining the upper hand by taking back the loot, mentioned by Horatio Washburn; Greyy had hidden in Minerva’s Cradle. The plans were weak and had little chance of success, but maybe at day’s end they would make it out with their ships still intact.

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  The day they were to head out to seek the Pirate threat was clear and bright, promising an easy sail. Flintlock held the list of his ships that were accounted for and gathering at the Headquarters Dock. There were not as many as he had hoped for, but more than he had figured. He was joined by Captain Bishop and several other Captains.

  With the rest of the fleet spread thin chasing “missing ships” the Navy was forced to split the command thinner than a skeleton crew. Once the briefing was complete he dismissed the Captains to their respective ships and returned to take command of his own newly commissioned giant.

  Irritated and anxious to exact some revenge on the ones who had forced such actions most of the naval crews were poised for attacks and hell bent on a single goal. Having many of the commissioned ships missing with rumors of sea monsters and ghosts had ripped a hole in the tidy order of the Military presence. They had been embarrassed by a band of ruffians who did not follow the accepted rules of war, now it was time to play a little dirty and gain the control of the open seas.

  As the crews were gathering in the harbor and being briefed on the plan, a tall blazing white set of sails breeched the horizon. A bleach white ship with the royal crest painted center of each sail in a vibrant blinding blue and emblazoned with the name “HMS Beatrice” sat high on the waves looking regal and untested. It was an impressive ship with a long deck and high forecastle and stern. The quarterdeck and poop decks stair cased up making the monster seem taller than it had any rite to be. The Commander’s pennant flew the crimson and purple of the Empirical Guard and tossed about in the wind like a color guard on parade.

  Washburn made a deep groan and buried his face in his hand at the sight of the glistening pampas display. He knew that one sight of that ship and it may as well have a bull’s eye painted on the side. Every pirate and privateer on the seas would aim for that, if for nothing else than bragging rights to sinking her. Not only was it big and beautiful, but it was also christened with the name of the Empress!

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  Insisting on snappy salutes and lavish display of rank and position, the newly appointed Fleet Admiral Horace Flintlock strode across the decks. His crew was manned with those of his own command from the Royal Guards, none of which had ever sailed a day in their life. The other A. B. S. was real sailors and ensigns from the Navy training yards. It was the Able Bodied Sailors who made the “Beatrice” sail true and upright, everyone could see the officers on board were clueless to the art of seafaring.

  Bishop had a sinking feeling deep in his gut as he saw the beauty before him take the lead. He was disgusted that a greenhorn with a silver spoon shoved deep in his mouth was taking the command of seasoned sailors and soldiers for the sake of his own gain and promotions. James Bishop knew that for this day to end well they needed to recover as many of the hijacked ships as possible and bring the soft bellied land hound back safely. The grand ship, he knew, was not to survive the day and woe to those who sailed on her.

  It took a bit of convincing and political waltzing but in the end the plan to make the battle field at Minerva’s Cradle was set. The seas were somewhat calm and had a few places to mount flanking attacks if it came to that. It was hoped that the Pirates would be there, if not the plan was to draw them to the battle zone and pick them off in much the same way they had taken Navy ships.

  Both leaders had their own agenda and the plans displayed by the Commander showed the utter lack of experience. In the end the idea was set and the credit was given to the Guards. With a great deal of tongue biting on the part of Captain Bishop the order to set sails was given, only three days late. That same day they finally set sails for Minerva’s Cradle and the Cradle Rock Cave. His crew was anxious for settling a score with lawless pirates, even if they would not admit to it. With the wind at their backs and the course set true they made the deep sea voyage in record time and without incident. Within the week they had the glimmer of the sight of high cliffs looming low on the horizon.

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  As the Navy prepared for a confrontation the Pirates too were making plans of engagement. The tricks and pranks of open oceans are often filled with much higher consequence than those on land. A misstep or wrong rudder could end the crew in a deep ocean with little to no defense against waves or creatures.

  Training inept drunkards to control large sailing vessels in any sort of order was, at best, a trick. Greyy was the one who ultimately discovered the perfect way to “motivate” the crews. A large keg of rum was secured to the main deck of each ship and each time a crewmate did right they got a pint. This ensured motivated sailors and by the end of the day drunken ones who were more than happy to stay aboard a ship doomed to sink.

  Greyylene had hoped and anticipated that the Lieutenant Washburn would return to the area of Cradle Rock in order to steal back her treasures and had made plans accordingly. Her bounty was moved and secured at a better location and the pirates were waiting in a surprise ambush around Minerva’s Cradle. A delightful glee spread across the deck of “Vharcan” as once again it was the original crew to take orders and inflict mayhem on the Navy.

  All the other ships, both hijacked and original to the pirate were positioned somewhat strategically around the harbor and the peninsula of the foreboding island. Each of the hijacked boats were equipped with the proper amount of guns and ammunition to defend itself in an attack along with crude pirate colors nailed to each mast ensuring that none would be left to be returned by to the Navy. The crew would either win the day, or go down with the ship.

  When the Navy fleet was finally spotted a roar of hilarious laughter broke across the waves. Most had been used to seeing Navy ships with their subdued sapphire and emerald colors, but the glistening gem of white that came dancing across the tide was almost too much to bear.

  “Hold fast, boys.” Greyy said with a smirk. “We need them a bit closer before sending in the mob.”

  “Dem fools ought be playin a fool band announcing demse’f like dat.” Kegan said shaking his head at the spectacle in white.

  “Well, Kegan, it’ll make a right big target I dare say.”

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  At the sight of the Ship of the Line the energy on the side of the Pirates could be felt across the waves in each ship. Kerrs had rounded up other pirate captains for this battle promising a grand adventure, and with the appearance of this single boat his promise had been fulfilled. The recently recruited “privateers” were also primed for action, if not nearly as skilled or disciplined as the rest.

  Greyy had positioned the “Vharcan” around the backside of the Cradle Rock Island waiting for any who would try escape. Kerrs, Buddy and Captain Blaque Rose spread out amongst the greenhorn crews so as to keep them focused and on task. Kegan took another cutter and lead a small fleet around the back side of the Navy fleet. In this order most of the Navy was sailing straight for an ambush with the instant ability to be flanked.

  The plans changed drastically as soon as the massive white beast appeared. The smaller “acquired” ships would run headlong into the Beatrice and sink it. The larger regular fleet of the Pirates would provide as much support as possible and distract any of the other ships that would try to defend the lead. The plan was crude and hastily put together, but all understood the game that was at hand and eager to part
icipate.

  “Mind the Crescent of the Dead Moon.” Greyy gave one last order to the Pirates.

  The smaller ships were meant to wait for a signal from Kerrs, but one of the newly acquired cutters got squirrelly and ran a collision course straight for the Navy fleet. There was little more to do than to either sit and watch or join the fray. There was little encouragement required for others to load cannons, muskets and anything else available releasing war whoop and turning sails full into the winds. It would not be said that a respectable Pirate would sit and watch while a good brawl was at hand.

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  The beautiful white ship standing so tall and proud was so quickly overtaken by the barrage of rampaging vessels that it was obscured by smoke and listing badly. The attack was so swift and complete they barely got any cannons fired. Others of the Navy were quick to lend aid to the ailing vessel but it was far too late to serve any real assistance.

  A runaway ship with Navy markings and pirate colors rammed straight into the hull of the mighty flagship and was protruding out of the side in a most grotesque manner. The bowsprit had acted as a spear and impaled the hull so deeply it was an impossible task to break them free of one another.

  After the renamed “Renegade” made contact and the sickening creaking crunch of breaking wood subsided the battle was officially begun. The Navy was determined to save its flagship; the Pirates were determined to bring every last ship down in whatever means they felt necessary. Fire arrows flew through the air embedding in rigging and sails, cannons boomed across the waves splashing or making mark and the yells of panic from ships heavily entangled accented the mass of ships and crews.

  A boom and crack of the main mast on the cutter put a heavy burden on the side of the already listing flagship. Both were in imminent danger and sinking quickly. The pirate crew stayed with the ship and fought hand to hand until the waves won their battle. The Navy ship had life rafts and men jumping overboard on both sides. As an observer from far off the display was, at best, ridiculous.

  The line of small rafts leaving the doomed ship was rather pathetic, but the most disgusting thing to be seen was that of the Commander of the “Beatrice” rowing as fast as his arms could go out pacing the others by quite a bit. He was the only one in the life raft and left flailing crewmen of both the Pirate and Navy vessels bobbing in his wake. He knocked a few of his own crew in the head with an ore to get further away from the sinking ships. All of his pomp and big words proclaiming his superiority and expertise in tactics and battle finesse and he had become the first off his ship when things began to go wrong.

  In stark contrast to the cowardice of the Commander was the First Officer of the “Beatrice”. He clamored to the highest point to watch the happenings around him. The disgust on his face could be seen clearly by any crewman that happened to pay attention.

  “The Captain Stays With The Ship!” he yelled out to the Commander in the vain hope he would be heard over the roar of sinking ships.

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  One of the final images that played out with the “Beatrice” was an act of kindness in the heat of a battle none would believe or expect. The last crewman was off the sinking flagship and the First Officer stood as best he could on the heavily listing deck. The look on his face was that of accepting his fate and preparing his soul to be welcomed to the watery grave.

  Below his location was a small raft of Pirate crewmen waiting for the final death throws; when the water rose to threatening they went after the First Officer and brought him aboard their craft. There was no gloating or fanfare, nothing menacing or malicious it was sailors sharing a horrific event and trying to survive in open waters. The act of kindness guaranteed that the Officer of “Beatrice” would be able to report back to headquarters all that had taken place in the epic battle with the “Pirate Menace”.

  Watching from the crow’s nest Greyy looked through the spyglass as the two ships finally listed so far they were overtaken by the ocean. The little cutter had no chance at staying afloat with all the mass weighing on top of it. She took a moment to pause and release a short blessing on those lives that were now sacrificed to the sea.

  When she took up the glass again to survey the field of battle a sight that almost made her ill with disgust caught her eye. The captain of the “Beatrice” was in a small dingy rowing quickly to another of the Navy vessels passing other sailors, both Navy and Pirate in its rush to safety. The ship he boarded was none other than the “Avenger”, owned and captained by James Bishop with Horatio Washburn standing at the rails.

  Moving out from her hiding place the “Vharcan” made sure that it was seen by Washburn. Greyy continued to watch from the crow’s nest waiting to catch the attention of her nemesis. When they finally met gazes he was just hauling the soggy lump they had called a Commander to the main deck. The disgusted expression was more than obvious, even from afar. She could see that he was as unimpressed with the actions of this pathetic fool as any of the others, but could not pass up the opportunity to add a bit of a jab.

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  He took up a long glass and looked straight at her and what he saw was the Elf atop the crow’s nest giving a mocking two fingered salute with a wink. Then she pointed towards a small catamaran sailing low and fast in the waves. Waiting for him to receive his “message” she began to move away just enough to have the momentum of retreat already established.

  The single sailor stepped aboard and gave a snappy proper salute before a short exchange and he handed over his find. Bishop looked at a large gold coin in the palm of his hand then ordered the glass to gaze back at the brazen Pirate Greyylene. She was still watching and gave him a little finger wave. The look he shot back to her across the distance was one that typically brought sailors to their knees. Through the glass she saw him glare and just point at her before another volley of cannon fire broke the connection.

  Horatio’s ire was stirred to the point of forgetting his station and rank. He began to bark out orders that other crewmen began to carry out long before they realized who was giving them. The focus was on catching “Vharcan” but anything that blocked the path was immediately and violently addressed. In the course of the afternoon “Avenger” was responsible for retaking three intact navy vessels, one heavily damaged pirate vessel and claimed the colors of several other sinking navy ships. Horatio proved to be a man on a mission and to his credit James Bishop stood back and allowed the actions to play out to their natural conclusion.

  Several hours had passed and the sun was beginning its descent into the horizon. The smoke was clearing and an inventory of boats left afloat and operational was taken. By the end of the day all of the hijacked Navy vessels were returned or sunk, none were in any condition to ever sail again. The Navy flagship had been sunk and the treasure that Washburn had hoped to recapture had only given him the single coin that was left sitting propped on a small stone in the cave where the catamaran sailor had found it. The Pirates had turned and merely vanished in the smoke and gathering fog leaving only the Navy in the middle of the ocean smoldering and sinking in the waves.

  The report that the Commander needed to file would show that the Navy had “won the day” because they had retaken the missing ships. He would leave out the details of his exit of the Flagship. He was still unaware that any had survived to rebut his report so showed little concern, but the great loss of the “Beatrice” would be difficult to explain.

  Commander Flintlock was so secure in his belief none of the other Navy personnel would ever contradict his report that he embellished his role in the battle quite handsomely. However, to his discredit there were many who were left who would testify against him. The added report of the rescued First Officer would be added to the growing nails in the coffin of the “Great Commander” Flintlock.

  Several ships had taken to hand to hand combat and even a few of the hijacked boats were boarded and retaken only to find massive holes in the hulls and a trail of life rafts f
loating towards the nearest land mass. The voyage back to navy headquarters recovered yet another of the missing ships that had been stripped clean and abandoned. Being left to the whim of the waves it became a pathetic bobbing reminder of a bitter ‘victory‘.

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  Sailing away from the battle South and to the East on the far shores near Port Gilesby Greyylene led her crew to small chain of shallow unmarked islands. They were an outcrop of rocks and volcanic leftovers long forgotten by civilized sea farers. It would be the ideal niche to hide her treasure.

  Each crewman was given their shared loot to store as safely as any hidden item could. They took their chests and sealed them with their own unique brand before securing it to a rope with an empty rum barrel to act as a buoy marker. The barrels would be wedged into a deep crevice and covered with the flotsam and jetsam of the tidal currents. At first glance it would seem to be nothing more than ocean debris caught in the rocks and uninviting to any who passed.

  The task complete she turned on the wind and headed back to Port Redgrave. Undoubtedly there would be celebration lasting long into the coming days. She was almost certain they would not wait for her nor would they miss her tardiness. By the time Greyy showed up the festivities were well beyond control.

  The crew of the “Vharcan” strode ashore, an air of arrogance and haughty self-assurance in their wake. Each member had played a vital role in contributing to the success of this battle and Captain Greyy was the epitome of the proud leader. As she made her presence in the Soggy Fishtail Pub she held bottles of rum over her head for her heroic crew. Her presence announced the need for fresh drinks all around, if for no other reason than an excuse for more rum.

  Kegan had already begun to drink with exuberance and was beginning to tell stories of his version of the adventure. He was standing near a far wall, as much to help keep his balance as to provide a suitable stage, regaling his listeners with the exploits of his mini ship.

  It was difficult to find a craft smaller than the “Vharcan” but he had managed. He and his crew of 30 were armed with little more than the weapons they had when they first boarded. They had taken the original crew and stripped them of their uniforms before setting them adrift in the dingy.