H.M.S Valor Read online

  “He fancies you, that boy.” Chibs jested. “Every time the poor sod is on deck it’s all he can do to keep his eyes in his head.” Lilith slapped his shoulder, eliciting a full laugh.

  “He does not, don’t be cruel.” She snapped through a broad smile.

  “Would I lie to you miss? He is love struck by those gems you have for eyes.” Chibs replied. “Can’t say he’s the only one. I would say the Captain would leave the ship for them, but we both know that is a lie. Just as well though, I’d have you find a gentleman somewhere, a better man than any of us.” Chibs said, getting quiet as he spoke.

  “How fatherly of you,” Lilith said, hugging his arm again.

  “Well, I haven’t any children of my own. None that I’m aware of I suppose, Kingston perhaps, maybe one or two in India. But I did fish your sorry skirt out of the drink in Port-Au-Prince and I’ve taught you as much as I know of what a father could teach his daughter, I guess.” He drummed his thumbs on the rail in front of him, uncomfortable with the expression.

  “How to wield a pistol and saber? Or how to trim the mainsail for broad reach?” Lilith poked.

  “These are the things I know girl,” he chuckled.

  “You’ll be the only father I’ll ever claim Chibs. You’re leaps better than the one I was cursed with at birth.” She replied rising on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

  “Alright now.” He said wiping his eye quickly and darting a look around to check for onlookers. “Better get ready miss Lilith. You’re going to be making use of those sword lessons soon.”

  “Not going to demand I stay on the Maiden?”

  “No, I won’t spare those sailors your wrath miss, but I do have an ask for you dear. See to it the boy’s mother doesn’t get in a bad way.” Chibs said, stone faced.

  “Chibs? Really? You fancy her, don’t you?” Lilith replied breaking a huge smile with a sparkle in her eyes.

  “Just, Lilith, will you please?” Chibs asked again, rubbing his whiskers nervously.

  “I will Chib.” she said, grasping his seriousness.

  The spirited moment was broken by the whistle of a musket ball zipping through the foresail above them, followed by the thud of the report. Captain James cried out an order and the Maiden’s decks shifted beneath their feet as she turned to a slightly angled course toward the line ship’s forward beam. Hands aboard the Drowned Maiden gathered, James intended to take the line ship, so there would be no cannon fire. Lilith knew, the approach was the most dangerous for the ship as a whole, she could see James’ plan taking shape. They would run at angle under full sail and turn into their enemy after passing out of the field of fire, with some luck they would escape the line ships’ massive cannon batteries before they could mass accurate fire. Moving at speed would be their defense and once out of the field of fire they would board her.

  Boom! Boom!

  A double report thundered through the darkness and Lilith listened intently as the cannon shot whistled harmlessly behind the Maiden’s stern, billowing into the water well beyond them. More musket fire sounded, along with voices carrying shouted curses. The musket reports sent no whistling near the Maiden and Lilith’s heart soared. “They’re still fighting on deck!” she cried out. Every hand that had taken cover for the cannon shots popped up to try and catch a glimpse onto the decks of the looming ship in front of them.

  Another cannon shot fired over the Deck of the Maiden, this one sending a ball whistling just feet over her deck. Everyone aboard dove for cover again, scrambling to whatever refuge they could find against the next round which they were all sure would impact. Lilith looked across the deck in the gleaming light of the moon and she could see Chibs standing tall, unshakable. Lilith wondered for a split second if anyone else aboard the Maiden had witnessed Chibs in a vulnerable moment like she had. She suddenly felt even closer to the salty old pirate. The decks shifting again beneath her snapped Lilith’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. They were turning in toward their target, just clear of the line ship’s field of fire. With full sails set they rapidly closed on the line ship; Lilith could see how much taller her deck sat over the Maiden’s. Almost as if he had read her mind, she heard James shout an order for grapple hooks and rope ladders. Above, on the deck of the line ship the fighting intensified and from the rear of the vessel something caught fire sending a forbidding orange glow muddled by thick smoke through the darkness.

  Just before the hull of the Maiden collided with the large warship Chibs called for the sheets to be loosed, spilling the wind from their sails. The momentum they still carried slammed the wooden ships together in a bone jarring crash. Screams could be heard up on the line ship while the pirates tossed grapples aboard to begin their assault and Lilith felt her guts tighten into a knot. When the crew began climbing the rigging, Lilith followed the man in front of her, carefully placing hand after hand and foot after foot up the shaking rope web that served as their ladder. Glancing up, she could see the man directly above her was scrambling wildly and shaking the ropes, making a mess of the ascent for everyone.

  “Steady now! Upward man, we can’t get stuck here!” Lilith shouted up to him. He paused for a second and looked down at her through the hazy orange glow. “Go damnit!” she cried again. To her horror, as the man in front of her reached up for the next handhold a silhouette came into view above on the rail of the warship. The shadow popped into view and then disappeared for a moment followed by two more popping into view. Pistol shots roared down, first one and then another. The man above Lilith flailed from the impact of a ball round, letting out a wheezing groan before going slack and losing his grip. He fell as Lilith tried to shimmy herself to one side to avoid being torn from the web. His side slammed down onto her shoulder and their heads collided sending Lilith’s face into the side of the warship. Her vision blurred and her right hand was wrenched from the rope, with her remaining grip she slid down a few feet, the rope gnawing into the flesh of her hand. Barely clinging to consciousness, Lilith summoned her strength to hold the rope. A moment passed and her vision cleared, she could feel blood on her face from the impact on the hull and her raw hand burned from the rough rope. She swung her free arm up and clasped back onto the web, scrambling her feet back onto the rope to gain support for her arms. As she regained her footing, she could hear Trina in her mind, Always mind your feet she had told her. The thought of Trina sent a bolt of lightning through Lilith’s veins and she surged upward, bent on havoc and vengeance. Then the shadows popped back into view over the rail again.

  H.M.S. Valor

  25 Sept 1808

  17 Degrees 14 minutes N, 76 Degrees 8’ W

  Under the night’s brilliant blanket of stars, with just a sliver of waning moon aloft in the eastern sky, the Valor cut through the debris field scattered through a broad swath of sea. The previous night, after darkness had fallen, they had doubled back to ambush the Endurance. A massive explosion had risen from the horizon, followed by an onslaught of cannon fire, alerting the men aboard the Valor to an engagement they were hoping would be the death song of the Endurance. Cobb had skirted well around the battle ground through that night and they wound up sailing far to the south. At daybreak, they made their way northward in a search pattern through most of the day. The first sighting of debris from the battle came in the waning hours of dusk and they moved urgently to comb the wreckage. Daylight would be ideal for the search, but Cobb was impatient to discover the fate of the Endurance and confirm that he was forever rid of Lieutenant Pike.

  Cobb stood on the quarterdeck, near the helmsman, watching closely as he navigated them through the scattered remnants. Sailors lined the rail watching for any sign that one of the sunken vessels had been the Endurance. The ominous glow of the lookouts’ lanterns drew a pale-yellow circle around the Valor, illuminating debris and floating corpses alike. Grim observations overheard from the sailors set Cobb’s teeth on edge and his temper flared short.

  “It’s bad luck, looking at the dead like
this and at night too,” a sailor grumbled.

  “Just be watching for any sign of the Endurance. It’s likely this was Pike, trying to do his best Captain Grimes impression and falling far short. Keep looking.” Cobb snapped.

  “That, or the Endurance will be sailing up our asses while we hold out lights in the dark for the whole world to see,” the reply came in a low grumble.

  Cobb gritted his teeth, trying to suppress a flare of rage and failing. His temples were throbbing, and his throat felt dry. A constant, nagging strain had plagued him from the moment he had turned the crew against Grimes and that idiot Shelton. Every moment he felt threatened that they would now turn on him and end his tenuously held leadership. Hearing grumblings as they moved through the wreckage had sent his blood into a fury. If they turned on him now, he would only be known as a failed mutineer, a cautionary tale for wide eyed midshipmen to hear aboard their first assignment. The thought of infamy was unbearable and the fear of it drove Cobb mad with determination to regain control of his destiny. If he could silence Lieutenant Pike, whatever he reported back to London would become fact in the eyes of the admiralty and crown. Maybe he could even gain a promotion. But everything hinged on him surviving and not Pike.

  Convincing the senior members of the crew to his cause had been simple enough after the batteries in Kingston had fired on the fleet. With Captain Grimes too weak to stop him and Lieutenant Shelton too inexperienced to realize what was occurring until it was too late, Cobb turned the crew and took command of the ship with ease. He’d dealt with the only dissenters shortly after tossing Grimes and Shelton overboard, by noose and pistol shot, he’d whittled through any on board who would defy him. But a lingering feeling haunted his every step, a pressing paranoia that squeezed in on him relentlessly and caused him to look suspiciously on every man aboard, second guessing everything and everyone.

  “This one’s alive!” a lookout called back from the rail on the bow. Cobb ran to the rail, looking at where the man was pointing. In the dim lantern light, Cobb could see a man in ragged clothing floating atop a section of broken deck timbers. The pale-yellow light glittered off the rippling water where the floating survivor raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the lanterns as they approached closer.

  “Get a lifeline out to that shark bait!” Cobb shouted, sending the crewmen scrambling. A line was thrown out, falling onto the surface of the water just out of the man’s reach. He seemed aware of its impact, but unable or unwilling to depart the small floating platform to reach for salvation. Cobb gritted his teeth, “We should leave this sorry sack for the elements, he won’t last another day bobbing about,” then he turned to the crew preparing to throw the lifeline again. “One of you is going to have to go get him, he’s likely too weak to hang on.”

  “Should we lower a longboat?” a sailor asked as Cobb brushed past them toward the helm.

  “There’s no time for that. But since you’re so eager to find a better option, take two with you and you go. Drag him to the ship and you boys hoist him up, once we have him on deck, I want to make sail, far away from here.” Cobb grunted, his temperament growing fouler and more urgent with every passing moment.

  Three sailors climbed down the side of the Valor to retrieve the stranded survivor, easing themselves gingerly into the dark waters. One by one they slipped from the side of the ship and stroked their way through the circle of dim light put off by a few lanterns being held over the rail. Above on deck the crew watched in anticipation, both eager to see their shipmates return with the rescue and to vacate the eerie battle scene floating amongst the sea. Cobb gripped his weary fingers against the wood of the rail, tense to see results so they could escape the unsettling scene. Sailors were the worst kind of superstitious creatures and sending three men off the ship into a scattered field of debris and corpses from a recent battle was about as unlucky of a situation as any sailor could think of. The crewmen aboard were already grumbling about it.

  Cobb watched while they made their way out to the flotsam barely holding the marooned man out of the clasp of the deep. An utterance of conversation could be heard, no doubt they were trying to convince the man to swim back with them, to no avail it appeared. They were lingering off the ship far too long for Cobb’s preference.

  “Just drag him back, planks and all you dogs! We need to be making sail!” Cobb shouted at the rescue band. One of them turned and shouted back,

  “He says he is an American and one of the ships that’s departed the battle headed north!”

  “Fine lads just get him up here. We’ll have time a plenty to talk to the man once he’s aboard!” Cobb seethed. Almost grudgingly, the men began to swim back, pushing along the planks with the American aboard. Their progress was slow and Cobb soon lost patience with watching, turning to head for the helm. He got no more than a few steps from the rail when an explosion of thrashing water echoed across the sea separating the swimmers and the safety of the ship.

  “Ahhhggh! Help! Help me, dear go…” the sailor’s screams shot across the water and ricocheted up into the Valor’s rigging, drawing intense attention from everyone in earshot. Then his voice was suddenly and mercilessly snuffed down into the dark waters surrounding the platform they had been pushing along. Nothing remained but an upward cascade of bubbles among a thick froth of bloody water where the sailor had vanished into the depth.

  “Sharks! Sharks! Swim for it lads, let’s go! Come on!” Cobb screamed out in a panic. The two who were left dutifully pushed along the wooden planks carrying their marooned American, swimming in a frenzy to escape the killing field. One sailor swam at either side of the planks, paddling with one hand while holding onto their quarry with the other and Cobb could only watch in horror as things unfolded below. They were getting close, only a few strokes more and all three men would be climbing their way to safety aboard the Valor. Then the sailor swimming off the side nearest where Cobb stood on deck jerked in the water with a sudden and violent force. He let out a blood curdling scream, wrenching on the boards he had been propelling to lift himself up. He was drug under for a split second and then popped back up screaming and wailing, thrashing his arms to climb aboard the platform.

  “Help me! Help! My legs! Help!” the sailor cried out while attempting to crawl onto the tiny wooden platform. The American sat up as the distressed sailor clawed his upper body onto the boards, he kicked his feet at the man pushing him off the fragile safety of the chunk of decking. The water became a thrashing froth of blood and screams again as the imperiled sailor clawed for the boards in vain. The platform drew close enough to the Valor that both remaining men began a mad scramble for the rope. The American gave no quarter in his struggle to be first aboard, drawing ire from the onlooking crew. The American kicked at his rescuer, forcing him under the water’s surface momentarily while climbing onto the only salvation for either. Angry shouts drifted from the crew down to the murderous scene amid the fluttering lamp light and when the American had secured his grasp on the lifeline, he began to climb raggedly.

  “Hoist him up.” Cobb ordered to the men standing along the rail where the line led up.

  “He can bloody climb his ungrateful ass up, Cobb,” a response zinged back from the cluster of men near the rope.

  Cobb felt the wave of rage returning, that throbbing in his temples coupled with the parched throat. He reached into his waistband and hauled up a pistol. “I told you men to haul him in. Now, haul the rope up and get that piss ant aboard, now.” The crew stood motionless, staring back at Cobb in his fury as if he were impotent to enforce his order. He raised the pistol and cocked the hammer of the piece, aiming it indiscriminately among the gawking sailors. “Haul him up. Now.”

  The sailors brought in the line, hauling away slowly in deliberate short pulls. By the time the American reached the deck of the Valor, he stood for only a moment on unsteady legs before collapsing to the deck. The men only gave him a look before tossing the line back over to rescue their remaining comrade from a surely i
mpending and violent death at the jaws of some barbaric sea creature. As the sailor sloshed and scurried to grab hold of the rope, the American drew looks over the shoulders of the watching crew. He was on his hands and knees, laboring breath and crawling for a handhold to help him to his feet. Cobb walked over, stepping into the American’s view of the wooden deck and offering a hand to lift him up.

  “You know how to make friends Yankee.” Cobb grunted, hauling the man up. “We do you the courtesy of rescuing you, so that you can let our brothers squander and die in a feeding frenzy. Perhaps we should have left you to die.”

  “I am an American, but I didn’t float all day balancing on those planks to be tipped into the drink by your men.” The man dragged out through ragged breaths. “I’m sorry for your men, but you need to get this vessel moving. We have to go, now.”

  Cobb scratched his jaw and leered suspiciously at the staggering man. His clothes were tatters, but he spoke with certainty, like a man accustomed to position and influence. Over the side, thrashing water could be heard and a scream shot through the dense night air.

  “That’d be the last man of your rescue party. I traded three able bodies for you and I certainly hope you are worth the cost. I have a mind to reintroduce you to your fate.” Cobb growled, stepping up to the staggering man and grabbing a hold of his collar. The crew turned, gathering their focus on the confrontation with the image of their shipmates being torn to the depths of the sea fresh in each mind.

  “I was aboard a vessel hunting traitors of the Crown!” the American blurted just as Cobb began to pull his collar toward the rail. Cobb stopped in an instant, realizing the man’s narrative would reinforce his own claims, not only among the crew but also with anyone owing allegiance to the King.

  “Go on.” Cobb said, releasing his grip.

  “My name is Tim Sladen. I am a tobacco merchant from the States, and I was in Kingston when Admiral Sharpe attempted his coup against the Governor. He failed and we set off under contract from Governor Geor Alton to hunt down the two remaining ships and return them to the King’s justice.” He rattled. “Since they departed Kingston, one of them has engaged a merchant ship named ‘Gazelle’ laden with payment to the Crown from the East India Company. I believe they have joined causes with a band of pirates to further their cause.”