Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (20 page)

“I don’t know ‘bout that, Cap’n. She’s likely to be hoppin’ mad when we get her home. Most folk don’t take kindly to kidnappin’.”

“True enough, Phin.”
And you don’t know the half of it
, Jack finished to himself. Once Miranda Chadwick had a chance to think over their encounter in the forest, she might not be so willing to pretend it never happened. Jack’s eyes strayed to her calmly smiling at something Scar said. This dispassionate facade could shatter soon. And then Jack hated to see what would happen.

Maybe he’d be gone to St. Augustine, a small, cowardly voice reminded him. Then Henry would have to take care of everything. Of course, Jack could forget ever returning to Charles Town after that.

Braiding his fingers, Jack dropped his head on the cushion of his hands. “What is it, Cap’n? What’s wrong? Ye sick?”

“Nay.” Jack straightened. “It’s just—”

“Sails ho!” The call from the lookout interrupted Jack. He squinted his eyes and looked up at the sailor. What in the hell was he talking about? They were headed toward the mouth of Snebley Creek—the creek that damn few people knew about. How could the lookout have spotted sails?

Jack opened his mouth to question him, when the sailor in the rigging surprised him further. “Looks Spanish, Cap’n.”

“What is it? What’s happening?” Miranda pushed through the pirates, who’d quite suddenly started moving about the ship. Some were rushing below while others grabbed muskets from a long wooden box and climbed the rigging. They all seemed in a hurry, and to a man they ignored her.

Clutching the rail to the steps, Miranda held up her skirts and scrambled to the quarterdeck. The pirate captain didn’t notice her until she grabbed his arm. He stood, brass telescope against his squinted eye, searching the horizon.

He jerked around when she touched him.

His expression was hard, the bronzed skin stretched taut over his chiseled features. There was not a hint of softening when he looked at her. If anything, his jaw clenched tighter. “What the hell are you doing up here?” God’s blood, didn’t he have enough to worry about without this? In truth, he’d been so engrossed in the Spanish vessel, Jack had all but forgotten his beautiful captive.

Taken aback by the vehemence of his words, Miranda forced herself not to cower. “I want to know why your men are running about. What’s happening?”

Jack stared at her while he worked to control his anger—not at her this time, but at the situation he found himself thrown into. “They’re preparing for battle,” he answered simply.

“Battle?”

“Aye. Or retreating... or whatever we can do to make it past yon Spanish ship.”

Miranda sucked in her breath, but she shaded her eyes and stared in the direction he indicated. She could see little through the veil of trees and late-afternoon mist except sails. “How do you know it’s Spanish? Perhaps it’s simply an English vessel sailing up the creek.”

Jack didn’t mention that to him an English ship blocking the mouth of the creek was almost as bad. He simply passed her the telescope. “You seem to fancy seeing things larger than life, Mistress Chadwick.”

Miranda spotted the Spanish ensign and lowered the spyglass, her eyes catching the pirate’s. “We aren’t at war with Spain.”

“Perhaps you aren’t.” Jack let out his breath. “But I can assure you, I am. And—” he swiped windblown hair off his forehead— “the feeling is mutual.”

Noise from the deck below momentarily distracted Miranda. Her gaze swept across the forecastle to where pirates were pulling and shoving at large black cannons. She spotted Phin yelling at some men, their shirts stripped from sweat-gleaming torsos, who were piling cannonballs on the deck. Still others were spreading a layer of sand over the oaken floor.

Anxiety curled in her stomach. “You’re going to fight them?”

She looked so frightened, with her deep blue eyes as large as gold coins, that Jack was tempted to lie to her. But knowing Miranda he decided she’d figure out the truth sooner or later. Besides, though she appeared alarmed, she stood her ground, and that defiant little chin was held high.

“I’m not going to fight unless I have to,” Jack said, then added honestly. “But I don’t see any way around it.”

“We could sail back up the creek. Surely they wouldn’t—”

“Follow?” Jack shook his head. “You’re probably right. Except that when the tide goes out we’ll be beached as we were before. They’d only have to send some men upstream in small boats to overrun us. We haven’t many men.

“The same holds true of staying where we are, or even sailing closer to the Spanish frigate. Unless we can reach deeper water, open sea, by low tide, we’re vulnerable.”

“But what of the Spanish ship? Doesn’t it have the same problem?”

“Nay. It’s in the channel where the water’s deeper. And ‘tis blocking us from getting there.” And from the looks of its position, the Spanish captain knew exactly what he was doing. Again Jack wondered how the Spanish had found this inlet. It had proven such a safe haven before, Jack could have sworn he was the only one who knew of it. Of course, his crew knew, and he’d told a few people close to him. His uncle... Miranda’s father.

Jack gave his head a quick shake. What was he thinking? Henry wouldn’t have said anything. “Do we have a chance in a battle?”

“There’s always a chance,” Jack answered, still distracted by thoughts of Henry Chadwick. He glanced down at Miranda when he heard her gasp. “Don’t worry. I’ve fought my way out of tighter scrapes than this.” Jack took a measure of comfort realizing what he told her was true. He had faced long odds and come out the victor. But he preferred a surer thing.

“Go below.” Jack yanked a pistol from the waistband of his breeches. “And take this with you.”

“But —”

“I doubt there will he call to use it. However, if there is, a gun is a lot more effective than a rusty sword.”

Miranda colored at his reference to her ludicrous attempt to fight the pirate captain the first time they’d met. She examined the heavy pistol and caught the glint of polished brass as the late-afternoon sun reflected off the muzzle. “I don’t know how to use one of these.”

“ ‘Tis primed and ready. Just, set the lock to full-cock.” Jack covered her hands with his, showing her how to do that, then returned the lock to the safety position. “Aim and squeeze the trigger. But don’t use it unless you’ve no choice. Chances are good that even if the Spanish manage to...” Jack paused when he realized he was thinking in terms of losing this battle. “You will most likely be safe no matter who wins the day.”

Jack cupped Miranda’s shoulders, gently turning her around. “Now, go below and stay in my cabin... no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

Of course she understood. Did the captain think she couldn’t comprehend a simple order? An infuriating one, perhaps, but a simple one nonetheless. With a quick nod, Miranda descended the ladder onto the main deck. She dodged the men who all but ignored her passage and ducked through the hatch.

Jack watched her disappear down the ladder, then turned his mind back to the ship blocking the entrance of the creek.

“Ev’ry man’s at battle stations, Cap’n. And we kept the gunwales closed like ye said.” Phin stuck his grizzly head above the quarterdeck floor. “What ye got in mind to do? Fer sure they seen us by now.”

“I imagine they have.” The
Sea Hawk
had just cleared the last bend in the creek and could now see—and be seen by—the ship that lay less than a league to the south.

“What ye think they’re doing there?” Phin screwed up his face and studied the enemy vessel.

“Exactly what it looks like they’re doing. They’re trying to keep us from sailing out into the ocean.” The ship was anchored at an angle, her great guns, black as pitch, peeping through opened gunwales. It stood as large and formidable as a fortress guarding a harbor.

“But how’d they find out ‘bout this place? We ain’t never had a speck a problems here before.”

“I don’t know.” Jack brushed the question aside. This was not the time to worry about it.

Later he would ponder the hows and whys. Now he needed to get the
Sea Hawk
out of this trap. “Furl sail and drop anchor. I want it to appear as if we stopped the moment we spotted them.”

“Cap’n, we ain’t got much time left till the tide’s gone. And ye know what will happen to us then.”

“Aye.” They’d be grounded and easy prey. Vulnerable to whatever the Spanish had in mind.

Vulnerable like Port Royal and its Scottish settlers had been those many years ago. Jack unrolled a chart and checked some figures. “We still have some time.” But not much. Jack lifted his head, face into the breeze, and smiled. As the shadows lengthened the wind picked up, a fair, freshening blow from the north. It followed the flow of the creek and would carry a ship under full canvas skimming swiftly toward the open sea.

“Put every tar who’s not manning a gun in the top masts. When I give the signal, I want sails spilling down from the spars. And I want it fast.”

“Ye thinkin’ to run through ‘em?”

“Aye. That’s just what I’m thinking.” Jack peered through his glass. “She’s sitting there so cocksure of herself, thinking we’re trapped.” Lowering the telescope, Jack tapped it against his open palm. “It will be a tight squeeze getting by her.”

“And a damn bloody one. What ye figure, Cap’n? Twenty guns?”

“Aye.” Jack blew air through his teeth. “Near as I can tell. But hopefully we’ll be by her before she can do us much harm.” Jack looked away and shut his eyes. He wasn’t much for praying— hadn’t been since that afternoon the Spanish wiped out his family—but he said a short one now. And if it came out more demand than supplication, he hoped God wouldn’t hold it against him.

Shadows from the tall pines on shore fell across the deck as the sun shifted lower behind the spit of wooded land separating the
Sea Hawk
from the sea. Crickets and locusts started their raucous noises, but aboard the pirate ship there was nary a sound. All were at their posts, ignoring the cramping of muscles and the tension that seemed to shroud the vessel.

And all awaited the order; that would send them scurrying to put the
Sea Hawk
in motion, toward the formidable Spanish blockader. Within range of her murderous guns. To a man, they knew what lay ahead was a calculated risk. And though their way of life might indicate otherwise, risks were not something pirates sought. Sure things were more their style. But there was no sure way out of this mess, and they trusted their captain to make the best of a bad situation.

Jack trusted fate and perhaps some divine intervention, and the luck that seemed to ride on his shoulder. When the breeze stiffened as much as he thought it might, and the first filming of dusk settled over the lowering tide on the creek, Jack turned toward Phin.

Hopefully the Sea Hawk’s inactivity had lulled the Spanish ship into believing she planned nothing for this night. Immobilizing fear was so easy to accept in an enemy, partly because it so easily took hold of men. But it hadn’t seized Jack or the
Sea Hawk’s
crew.

“Now, Phin!” Jack gave the order in a hushed voice, and Phin raised his arm in the prearranged signal. The sign was passed from one pirate to the next, till all knew the time was at hand.

Then in unison the fore and aft sails whipped down the rigging, rattling out through the wooden blocks. At the same moment, King, using a boarding axe, severed the cable, leaving the anchor near buried in the bottom mud and freeing the pirate ship.

The
Sea Hawk
yawed and groaned, then lurched forward as the great sheets caught the wind. They were under way, skimming toward the Spanish ship.

Jack squinted through the spyglass, trying to make out through the gathering dusk the enemy’s reaction to the sudden movement of the
Sea Hawk
. They didn’t seem to realize at first what the pirates were about, but soon, Jack noticed the frenzied motion of the small figures as they readied the guns.

Tongues of orange spewed from the muzzles well before the
Sea Hawk
was in range, but Jack assumed the Spanish captain was showing but a sampling of things to come.

“Keep your course steady, Phin.” Jack lowered the glass and gave his quartermaster a hard stare. “Whatever happens, keep us heading for the alley between the Spaniard and the shore.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Phin’s gnarled fingers gripped the wheel. “And I’m assumin’ the wash is deep enough.”

“You’re assuming right,” Jack answered, hoping against hope it was. He yanked from his waistband the pistol that matched the one he’d given Miranda.

They were fast closing range. The ever-narrowing space of brackish water that separated the two vessels swelled with splashing cannon balls and shot. Sprinkles of water, turned diamondlike by the last rays of the setting sun, sprayed over the
Sea Hawk’s
hull.

Jack waited until a thundering blast sent a ball falling mere feet in front of his ship. Then, with one last warning to Phin to keep her steady, Jack bounded down to the main deck. “Fire!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Fire at will!”

The resulting roar was deafening. Jack spread his legs, steadying himself against the sudden jolt of the ship. Smoke swirled and billowed around the men, obscuring them from sight. But Jack could hear them, panting for breath, scurrying to swab out the muzzle and reload.