June Writing Challenge Tiebreaker
Jul 2, 2011 8:18:40 GMT -5
Post by Admin! on Jul 2, 2011 8:18:40 GMT -5
Aether Shanty
The stars twinkled across the dark sky like the jewels the crew of The Queen Mab sought. Captain Ginny Campbell clutched a worn map in one hand, a guide to the fabled treasure of Hammel. The characters scrawled across the top in dark red remained indecipherable, despite her best efforts; she wished her father were here, on The Queen Mab with her, not back in New York, buried in piles of dusty books. Professor James Campbell was famous in linguistic circles for his translation skills. In his younger, wilder years he had been quite the adventurer himself, traveling the globe in search of ancient tomes and tablets, but in recent years he'd settled down with former sky pirate Chase Kilbourne.
Kilbourne had been the previous Captain of The Queen Mab; he'd passed it on to Ginny when he'd retired from pirating. Most of his crew had retired with him, and so she'd been forced to gather up her own: Tall, self-assured Jean Manne was her First Mate, and the only man aboard. Not that he minded; Jean was notoriously fond of the ladies. Mia Keystone had been a starving little urchin when Ginny had found her, but had proven her worth as ship's gearhead, keeping them in the sky through storm and shower of arrows; Christina Byrne was the lookout, her blue eyes sharper than an eagles; Estelle Flores kept the crew in tiptop shape with meals and medicine alike; and L.C. Milliner guarded and cared for the ship's little stash of weapons.
The ship was currently docked on a tiny island unimportant enough to even warrant a dot on her map. A good place to sleep, free of any inhabitants.
Or so they'd thought.
A horrifying shriek rent the night air, and Ginny's head snapped up, contemplation forgotten. Through the trees lights now sparkled, redder than the stars above.
"Captain!" The sound of boot on wood caused the Captain to shift slightly, just enough that she could look at the young blonde woman panting before her. "Captain, there are people, they're....they're coming...." She pointed toward the woods, where the red lights glowed bigger and brighter, bobbing up and down as they neared the shoreline.
Ginny's hand instinctively went to her waist, pulling her pistol from her holster. "Wake the crew." She commanded, not willing to risk that their midnight visitors might be friendly. Experience told her to take care.
Christina gave a sharp nod, turning to dash back down to the crew's quarters, but before she had taken a single step the natives crashed through the jungle, faces painted grotesquely, wildly yowling, holding torches and cruel spears aloft.
"Sh..." Ginny bit off a curse, taking aim at the nearest attacker. She couldn't hold them off alone; by the looks of them, even her entire crew armed and ready wouldn't be enough to fend off what was a large enough group to be a veritable army. "Change of orders, Byrne, we need to take off. Haul anchor while I keep them at bay."
She didn't wait for the lookout to answer, her attention once more on the painted attackers....
***
When she came to she was trussed up on a packed dirt floor, rope cutting into ankles and wrists. Her head throbbed painfully; she wished she had a hand free so she could rub the nape of her neck. It felt like she'd been stung by a giant wasp.
She opened her eyes to mere slits, taking in the surrounding area. There was sunlight, which meant some time had passed since they'd been captured, but there was thankfully very little of it as they appeared to be in some type of low building with openings that could just barely be called windows -- she didn't think her head would appreciate the light, not with the near blinding headache, so she was grateful for this. For the moment. The rest of her crew were there, also tied up, along with a lanky, dark-haired young man she didn't recognize. His beard looked ragged and unkempt; she wondered how long he'd been there for.
No. There was someone missing. She scanned the little group again. L.C. was missing. Dammit. Probably got herself killed; she would have gone down fighting.
Ginny struggled in her bonds, wiggling her fingers experimentally. They still worked, but the bonds held fast.
Sudden bright light flooded into the room, then was shut out immediately as two figures entered. Their faces were hideously painted, pale white with dark circles under their eyes and blood red lips. There were red designs on the face of the woman, designs that sparkled even in the dim lighting of the prison. Her hair was oddly colored, dyed a brilliant pink. Ginny presumed the two must be sorcerers or shamans of some sort. She grimaced; she hated magic users. That might have been an unfair bias, as her sole interactions with them tended to be when she was making off with their sacred artifacts -- and that foolish magician back in New York, LaRousse. L.C. may have been a fan, but Ginny most certainly was not.
"Why have you come here?" The woman's voice dripped with undisguised disdain. "Did you not know the penalty for lodging on our island?" A glint of white sparkled in her mouth and Ginny squinted to get a closer look; did she have fangs?
"Apologies." She lifted her head, unwilling to be cowed even in the presence of obvious power (and fangs). "We did not know this island was occupied. We merely wished to take refuge for one night."
"Lies." The pink-haired sorceress hissed, approaching the prisoners with the dry rustle of scales. Ginny felt the hairs on her arm stand up. She forced herself only to glance out of the corner of her eyes, but that was enough to confirm her suspicion: Naga. Shit. She didn't want to be Naga food. "But it matters not."
"Ummmmm." Ginny licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry with fear. Mere humans she could face down, but Naga were another matter entirely. She hated snakes. "But it isn't a lie! We had no idea you -- " She began, but the Naga woman cut her off.
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse." The Naga waved one hand imperiously. "Tonight we feast on huma---" It was her turn to be cut off, this time by the sharp rapport of a gun. She slumped forward, and Ginny shrank back, half afraid she was going to be crushed under the body.
"Lady Sidra!" The male Naga slithered toward his fallen companion as another shot rang out.
Behind the two bodies stepped a bleach-blonde young woman in an outfit only a dance-hall girl would be caught dead in; and that is exactly what its occupant had been before joining the crew of The Queen Mab.
"L.C.!" Ginny sighed in relief as the weapons-master untied her. "Ewww. You got Naga guts on my boots." She leaned down to inspect her leather boots, grimacing at the scarlet splatters now adorning the toes. "Gross."
"Hey, you'd rather have their guts on your boots than be in their guts, right?" L.C. pointed out, and Ginny sighed.
"Right."
***
The Queen Mab was in the sky once more, sapphire ocean stretching out below her for unending miles. Jean leaned over the railing beside Ginny. "Why aren't we throwing him overboard again?" He whispered, glancing back toward the lanky young man they'd rescued from the Nagas. Well, L.C. had rescued. Technicalities.
"Because we need him." Ginny waved the treasure map in front of Jean irritably. "And I'll be damned if I let him go before he finishes translating this."
Capture by the Nagas had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, at least in Ginny's mind, as it had lead them directly to fellow victim Eli Morrison, linguist extraordinaire. It was quite possible he was as good as her father. Almost. Maybe.
The only problem was that Eli was extremely surly, complaining constantly about the food Estelle served (she did the best she could!) and the fact that he was stuck on the ship with them. Ginny thought he ought to be grateful they'd taken him with them instead of leaving him to take the heat for the death of the Naga leaders, but he didn't seem to see things the same way. She put up with him because she believed him when he said he'd be able to translate the map; after all, her father had talked about him with respect.
She scuffed her boot against the deck, giving Sir Morrison a good, healthy glare. If he'd just be faster with translating her map then she could drop him off somewhere civilized. He glared back. Definitely not in any hurry. Jerk.
***
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ginny held her hands up, suspicion welling up inside her. "What do you mean you won't translate the map? Don't you know who I am?"
"I don't care if you're Queen Victoria." Eli snapped, arms folded across his chest, slouched down in the chair across from her. "You've got no right to hold me here. I demand to be taken back to London."
"Christ!" Ginny swore, banging one hand down against her desk. "We're not anywhere near England. Hello, following the treasure map? Sorry, you're stuck with us until we're done. If you won't help us with the map then you can go help Mia. Have fun playing with coal, bookworm."
***
"Why the hell did you stick him with me?" Mia groaned, toying with the orange peel, the only remnant of her breakfast. "He's a pain in the ass."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know. But I needed him to do something useful since he won't translate that damn map."
"He'd better do it soon or I'm gonna lose my mind..." Mia muttered, flicking her peel across the table to splat against the back of Eli's head.
Ginny stifled a giggle as Eli swiveled his head to glare at them. She gave him a smile and shrugged, turning back to her own breakfast. He deserved it.
***
"Great! You'll help us? Ginny beamed at the scowling man in front of her.
He muttered something, looking sullen and scuffing his feet against the floor.
Ginny slid the map across the desk to him, "Just tell us what this part means..." She told him, tapping at the red letters.
Eli took the map. "It might take me a few days." He warned, but Ginny simply smiled.
***
Ginny bent over the map, Jean hovering behind her, while Eli explained what he'd discovered to them. "It says the treasure is cursed." He informed them, tapping on one particular character. "But there's a word here I don't know, I've never seen it before. Nas. It may be a given name, but I'm not sure."
Ginny shrugged and grinned at him. "Cursed, huh? Sounds like fun." She turned to Jean, who grinned back at her.
"Let's go get us some treasure!"
This Means War!
1812, Aboard the good ship Pilot Ridge
The small vessel cut through the blue waves at a good pace, keeping close to the USS Hammel, which had been assigned to protect the smaller merchant ship. The captain of the small Pilot Ridge stood on the fo’c’sle, smiling at the sea around her.
“It’s a good day to be at sea, Mr. Weaver,” the captain said to her first mate.
“Yes indeed, Captain Gold. But I am a bit worried about the British. They could send someone to board our ship.”
“They’d have to get through our good friend the USS Hammel first, though. Don’t worry, I’m sure we will be perfectly safe.”
The first mate looked askance at the larger military vessel ahead of them. “I don’t know, ma’am. There’s something about that ship I just don’t like.”
“Pish posh, sir. Such dreadful thoughts will get you nowhere. Just because you don’t like the captain doesn’t mean the whole ship is bad. In fact, I’m tempted to trust them more just because the captain was willing to stand up to you.” She laughed.
“I’m sure Captain Neville is a fine…gentleman…” Mr. Weaver said through gritted teeth. “I just don’t particularly agree to his policies. I mean, they basically work a press-gang to get ship hands!”
“None of that. You need a good cooling off. Today’s supposed to be a good day! Go down and get some chow from the ship’s cooks. I’ll check on the state of affairs with the rest of the crew.”
Mr. Weaver headed down to the galley to talk to the two ship’s cooks, Tonaya and Adams. He agreed that some food and a nice talk with some of his friends might cool his head for the start of the voyage.
Meanwhile, Captain Gold made her way to the front of the ship, right up next to the mast so she could call up to the lookout. “See any ships approaching, Mr. Rhodes?”
“No, Cap’n!” the man called down to her.
“Might it be because you’re not really looking for ships but instead working on finishing your knitting?”
“Aye, Cap’n, that might be it,” he called back sheepishly.
“Plenty of time for hobbies when you’re off-duty, sir. How ‘bout you do us all a favor and put that spyglass to good use?”
“Aye, Cap’n.” He placed his knitting down next to him and held up the telescope.
“The other way, Mr. Rhodes,” Captain Gold called, already walking away.
“Right, Cap’n.” He grinned and quickly reversed the telescope so that he was looking through it the right way.
The captain came up near the cabin area, where a man was bent over a stack of papers, scribbling furiously. He started upright when Captain Gold’s shadow fell across his work, almost spilling the bottle of ink he was working from.
“Hello, Mr. Bernstein,” she said, looking at the work. “I trust the ship’s finances are still in proper order? Nothing I should be aware of?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, already going back through his papers. “But I would like to point out that some of the rights of the crew are being seriously infringed. You basically keep those cooks chained to their galley—I never see them come up for air anymore! Furthermore, I was going through the list of rules for the ship, and I think there can be some serious changes made that will allow for more free time.”
She looked at him. “You mean you want more smoke breaks.”
He gave her an indignant frown and harrumphed a few times. “Of course that’s not…Do you mean to imply that I…”
The captain waved a hand. “Sir, feel free to make whatever changes you wish. Just let me know. By the way, where is your assistant?”
“Ms. Adams? I believe she was going through your cabin to ensure that there weren’t any papers that needed to be looked at again.”
“Hey, wait! I’ve already done those papers, they don’t need re-checking!” She hurried off in a rush toward her cabin, the accountant already chuckling behind her as he pored over his reports again.
As they were all running about on the ship, Mr. Rhodes, the lookout, returned quietly to his knitting. It was because of this that no one saw the ship with red sails coming up behind them.
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Aboard the USS Hammel
“Captain! There’s a ship coming up behind us!” The first mate came running up toward the captain, panting. “It’s a British ship, which is for some reason bearing red sails.”
Captain Neville looked thoughtfully into the distance. “Red sails? Then it must be…but no…but it must!”
“What is it, Captain?” The first mate looked thoughtfully.
“Mr. Kilbourne, that is the ship of Captain Underwood, an evil villain who is out to destroy all US ships. He used to be one of my pupils, a true American. But then he absconded, joining the British and vowing to destroy all good Americans.”
“No, it cannot be, sir!”
“But it is. My destiny has come upon me, and I must face it.” Swirling his cape across his shoulders, the captain strode off into his cabin to look thoughtful and consider a plan. After a brief moment of wondering when the captain had gotten a cape, First Mate Kilbourne decided to act in a similar fashion. He went to speak to the man on lookout duty, Lieutenant Campbell, so the two could discuss plans together.
One of the ship’s boys, a certain Mr. Scholl, overheard the discussion between the captain and first mate. He carefully stopped mopping the deck and ran to tell his friend, Keystone, about the coming ship. She took the news with careful consideration, then decided to pass the news along to the rest of the ship. Soon the whole underbelly of Hammel was teeming with gossip and rumors.
No one really noticed Mr. Jesse Adams sneak away from his post to set some lanterns in the back of the ship. The lanterns were made with red glass that would glow distinctly in the night. “This’ll teach these bloody Americans,” he said as he secured the lamps. “God save the king!”
As Jesse came sneaking away from the back of the ship, he almost ran into three men—well, older boys, but they liked to think of themselves as men—marching around with their rifles. The marines were not there to sail the ship but to guard any potential prisoners and deal with officials on the land. Because there currently weren’t any prisoners and they weren’t on land, this meant that the three (LaRousse, Paerson, and Wilkes) had a lot of free time which they used marching around looking stern. Or at least looking potentially threatening. Or in some cases just goofy.
They walked right past Jesse, who had promptly stood to attention and offered them a large salute. Mr. Paerson gave him a suspicious glance as they went by, but then, he tended to give everyone suspicious glances. Then the trio were on their way, turning a corner and disappearing. Jesse made a rude gesture towards the disappearing marines and continued in the opposite direction, smiling like a wolf.
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Aboard HMS MSAD
“We’re gaining on them, Captain Underwood.”
“Excellent. And from the looks of it, Ms. Degreas, we will catch up to them by this evening.”
“Still plenty of time for them to turn around and fire a broadside at us. Once they realize that we’re fast enough to catch them.”
“Nonsense. They’re not going to attack us unless we open fire first. I know the captain, and he wouldn’t dare. He’ll keep running in the hopes that he can outrun his destiny.” The captain raised his fist and said through clenched teeth, “But he won’t escape this time.”
“Very good sir.” The first mate turned from her captain and went to deliver orders to the rest of the crew. For a moment, the captain looked after her in amazement.
“Sometimes,” he said to himself, “I could swear there were two of her, the way she gets so much done.” Then he shrugged it off and continued staring after his prey.
“Captain!” came the cry from the lookout station. “The signal has been set! Two red lights off the rear of the ship!” Ms. Stone had the spyglass pressed to her face. “What was the meaning again, sir? One if by land, two if—“
“Don’t be stupid! Of course they were going by sea, they were in a ship!”
“Just making a joke, sir!”
“Well stop it. It wasn’t funny.” He stalked away to the lower deck, where a man was poring over charts. “What’s the report, Mr. Ortiz?”
The mercenary tracker looked up sardonically. He did everything sardonically, even if the situation didn’t necessarily call for it. “You can see the ship, I just heard you. Why do you need a report of where it is?”
Captain Underwood opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. “Good point. What’s your plan, then?”
“To not move from this spot until someone can bring me some food.”
“I’ll get the new midshipman to help you. Mr. Xu? Could you get Mr. Ortiz a plate of food from the galley?”
The young man looked up cheerfully from playing with the ship’s dogs. “Sure thing, Gabe.”
The captain scowled. “On this ship, I would prefer it if you referred to me as ‘Captain.’”
“Sure, cap. Be right back.” He ran off toward the galley.
“You’ll train him eventually, sir,” said the first mate, coming up from behind.
“Yes,” the captain mused. Then he spun around. “I thought you were alerting the ship and giving orders?”
“Done, sir. Thought you might want some more help.”
“That was…incredibly fast, Ms. Degreas.”
“Time flies, sir.”
“Well, I suppose there’s not much more to do. Go to my cabin and pour a glass of wine.”
“Being done as we speak.”
“What?”
“I mean, I’ll get right on that.”
“…Right. Thank you.”
The first mate spun on her heel and went up to the captain’s cabin. This was going to be a good day.
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Aboard the Pilot Ridge
“Captain!” Master at Arms Ginny Campbell came roaring up from her post. “We’ve received a message from the USS Hammel. Apparently they have sighted another ship. We need to make all speed to catch up to the Hammel and ensure that we are protected.”
“Thank you, Campbell,” Captain Gold said. “Prepare the Long Tom as well. We do have a few guns on this ship, and I intend to use them. Pilot Ridge will not succumb without a fight.” She marched toward the foremast where a certain lookout was dozing in the sunlight.
“Mr. Rhodes!” the captain called out, but there was no response. Frowning, she kicked off her boots and climbed into the rigging. It was something she tried to keep practice with, and was often forced out of necessity to do. She was one of the youngest members of the ship, in actuality, and she sometimes had to go aloft. Now she swiftly climbed to the lookout station and rapped the sleeping ship hand on the scalp. “Awaken, ye filthy sod,” she said.
“Aaaah!” he said as he looked up to see a large face in his vision. He quickly stood to attention, saluting the shorter woman in front of him. “Sorry, Cap’n. Must’ve dozed off in the warm sun.”
“I gathered as much, Mr. Rhodes. Consider yourself permanently off lookout duty. I will have to reassign your post to someone with an attention span of more than five minutes.” With that she launched herself over the side again and made her way rapidly down toward the deck and back into her boots. Then she marched quickly up to the fo’c’sle and started shouting orders. While she was at it, she called for Ms. Caraway to come up on deck.
“Ms. Caraway,” she said to the happy woman, “I know that you have been helping out in the galley, and I hate to pull you away from your duty there, but would it be possible for you to work as a new lookout? I’ve recently found a need for a replacement.”
“Yes, ma’am, miss Captain. I can certainly do my best. But…will I be the only lookout?”
“Not to worry, there are others who take shifts. And hopefully this will only be a temporary condition.”
“Right.” And with that the new lookout climbed up to the lookout platform and took up the spyglass. “My word! There’s a ship out there, captain, with red sails! And it’s almost on top of us!”
“Yes, I suspected there might be. Ms. Campbell, are the cannons ready?”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
“Right. Mr. Weaver has the con.”
First Mate Weaver stepped up. “I have the con!” he shouted out to all and sundry. Then the captain returned to her cabin to pore over charts and to prepare a message to send over to the Hammel asking about what should be done in this situation.
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Aboard the USS Hammel
“Message from the Pilot Ridge, sir,” said Lieutenant Campbell. “Apparently they are wondering what sort of tactics to employ in these circumstances.”
Captain Neville rubbed his chin thoughtfully before responding. “We are not officially at war with the British at this time, and we cannot open fire unless they first attempt to attack. However, to be safe, I think we should try to let the merchant vessel sail in front of us while we take a rearward position between them and the enemy.”
“Right, Captain. I shall have a response sent to the Pilot Ridge and give orders for us to draw in the sails for a moment to allow the other ship to pass us.” The lieutenant saluted and turned away to give the new orders.
The captain called for his Master-at-Arms to join him. Ms. Nakajima slinked up from wherever she had previously been positioned. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Have your men ready the cannons and stand by. Do not fire yet, but be prepared for action.”
“Yes, sir.” And she slunk away back into the shadows.
Captain Neville sat at his desk and wondered what more could be done. Should he turn his side to the enemy, better able to fire on them but leaving the USS Hammel and the Pilot Ridge to be separated and thus more exposed? Should he continue running and hope that the other ship would just pass by? Nervously, he paced the deck.
In a time of crisis like this, he needed someone level-headed to talk to. He went to find his clerk, Mr. Morrison.
The underbelly of the Hammel was also worked up over the news, and each group of individuals was dealing with it in their own way. Ship hand Keystone, who was in charge of one of the cannon crews, had pulled together her men and was readying her cannon. King was in charge of loading, Scholl was a powder monkey, and Keystone was set to fire the whole thing off. She’d smeared some white paint on her cheeks to make herself appear more fierce, and to further distinguish her crew from the others. Milliner, who was in charge of the next cannon over, merely growled and glared at Keystone’s crew and cannon, nicknamed “Ball-blaster.” The rivalry between the two cannon crews led reload rate to be increased by fifty percent, so no one really complained.
The red-sailed ship was moving in quickly. Keystone leaned across her cannon and stared out the small porthole to glance around the back and view the ship. “Bloody British,” she scowled. “We’ll blow ‘em all to hell. Right boys?” Her team nodded agreement.
“They won’t even know what hit them,” Milliner said with a ferocious grin.
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Aboard HMS MSAD
“We should kill them all now,” growled Avlang, one of the ship hands. “I don’t know why we’re wasting our time. We can just turn the cannons on them and have done with it all.”
“Hush, darling.” A beautiful blonde sat next to him, stroking his hand with hers and calming him. “We must listen to the captain. And we don’t want to kill everyone. We have to do this properly. Quietly.”
Avlang grunted and stared at his clenched fists for a moment before turning to van Drakke. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“And I love you. Do not worry, everything will work out perfectly.”
The first mate walked by and made a disgusted face for half a moment before returning to normal. “The captain requests your presence in his cabin.”
The two ship hands slowly rose and walked up to the cabin, still holding hands. As they left, Midshipman Xu came up from belowdecks, leading one of the ship’s dogs.
“Aww, they’re so cute together,” he said. “Like…like an angel and his wife.”
“Don’t you mean an angel and her man?” Degreas asked.
“No. Men are angels. There’s the angel Gabriel, and Michael, and Rafael, and—“
“Forget I asked.” And she drifted off, leaving Xu alone with the dogs looking out toward the ships in front of them.
“We should catch up to the other ships soon, Rufus,” the young midshipman said. “I wonder who else will be there. Maybe someone else my age. Maybe they can join us and we can all work together with Gabe. That might be nice.”
Captain Underwood paced in front of his cabin until the two requested shiphands came to him. He looked up. “Ivan. Anastasia. I am glad to see you. I need you to ready your cannons and to prepare the ship for battle. You two have the most experience with actual sea battles, so I want you to take charge now. Can you do that?”
The two looked at each other and smiled. “Our pleasure,” they said together.
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Aboard the USS Hammel
“The Pilot Ridge has moved forward, sir,” Kilbourne called back to the captain. “And it appears that the ship behind us is within cannon range.”
“What makes you say that, Mr. Kilbourne?” Captain Neville asked as a cannonball flew across the water and landed next to the ship.
The British ship was still in pursuit of the Hammel, but it was also now firing with its front cannon, making a few potshots, probably in the hopes that one would get lucky. Should one of the shots happen to land correctly, it could fell the mast or put a hole through the hull of the ship, forcing the military vessel to run for land so they could patch up the destruction.
“Permission to turn and engage in combat with the enemy, sir?”
“Indeed, Mr. Kilbourne. Give the orders.”
“Turn her about, men! Let’s get ready to give them a broadside!” Kilbourne called out to the ship hands. Now that they were being fired on, the battle had begun. “Keystone, Milliner, Flores, Hart, I want your teams ready to fire.”
“We’ve been ready to go for ages now,” Milliner muttered under her breath. “It’s those damn bureaucrats who can’t manage to get their acts together in time.”
“No point in complaining about it,” Flores said, trying to make peace as usual. “Let’s just get ready to go, all right?”
At that moment, Jesse Adams came by, carrying a large rucksack. As he walked past the cannons, he managed to stumble and crash against a pile of cannonballs that had been prepared, sending them rolling across the lower deck. “Oops,” he said with a barely-concealed grin before continuing toward on to the stairs and up onto the main deck.
“Powder monkeys, hurry and grab those before they get in the way!” Keystone called out, pointing at the three young boys standing nearby. They all snapped off a salute and began to chase after the cannonballs.
“That sounds…eerie,” Flores said, listening to the rolling of the metal against the deck. She shivered a little before turning back to her cannon and sighting along it.
“Sound of mutiny, you know,” Hart responded. “Cannonballs rolling across a deck. Mutiny. It’s one of the signs that a crew doesn’t trust its captain and that if he keeps going the way he is, there’ll be trouble.” Then she shrugged. “Not that there’s any meaning to it now, of course.”
The other three girls all looked at her for a moment before returning to their work. At her cannon, Fiona Hart began to hum, a sound that rang deep in her throat. Another sign of mutiny.
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Aboard the Pilot Ridge
“They’re going to fight, Captain,” Mr. Weaver said. “What would you have us do?”
“I assume they’ve ordered us to press on?” Captain Gold asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I see. And what would you have us do?”
“I say this time…we follow orders. We don’t need to get caught up in this.”
At that moment the lookout, Caraway, dropped down. “I say we fight,” she said. “We aren’t going to buckle down for a bunch of low-life British scum, are we?”
“And I say we listen to Captain Neville.” Ms. Campbell emerged from belowdecks, frowning. “I don’t like abandoning that ship any more than you do. I even have family there. But they know what they’re doing, and if we don’t leave now it’ll all be for nothing.”
“If we press on, we’ll be abandoning our escort!” cried Caraway. “We will be like sitting ducks for any other ships, so there’s no real point going on anyway.”
“Who’s to say we will meet any other ships? We’re nearing our destination.” Mr. Weaver frowned as he thought about the situation.
“That’s just it though, isn’t it?” Now Rhodes had come up from his location and was frowning. “We’re near the port. Won’t there be more enemy ships hoping to attack us as soon as we leave the big guns?”
Back and forth the debate went, with Captain Gold watching the arguments. The crew seemed split about half and half, and the deciding vote came down to her.
“Well, Captain?” Weaver finally said, turning to her. “What are your orders?”
She stood there for a moment in silence before speaking. “Turn her about. If we’re going to stay to fight, we’d better be able to use the cannon.”
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Aboard HMS MSAD
“They’re both turning to fight, sir,” reported the crewman. “The big and the little ship.”
“Are they all mad?” muttered Underwood under his breath.
“We should attack the smaller ship,” informed Avlang. “Hit them and wait for the naval ship to try to save them, then attack while they’re weak. We will fight without mercy.”
“It is a good plan,” van Drakke said to the captain. “We should hit them now, strike fast and hard.”
“Wait!” Underwood said, holding up his hand. “Do you see that?”
A small lifeboat was being lowered off the back end of the Hammel. A small blonde figure scurried down the line and jumped into the boat, releasing it from the larger ship and rowing back toward the British ship.
Avlang frowned. “Kill them before they get close.”
“No, I think these are our allies.” Captain Underwood grinned ferociously. “Allies and captives.”
Jesse rowed the boat up to the British ship. “Throw down a line and help me lug up these two layabouts!” he called up. “Hart stayed back on the other ship. And I should get back soon, too, before they start to miss me.”
In no time at all, there were two new captives in the brig of the MSAD. Everything was working out perfectly.
TO BE CONTINUED…(maybe)
[I'm sorry. It just kept growing.]
The stars twinkled across the dark sky like the jewels the crew of The Queen Mab sought. Captain Ginny Campbell clutched a worn map in one hand, a guide to the fabled treasure of Hammel. The characters scrawled across the top in dark red remained indecipherable, despite her best efforts; she wished her father were here, on The Queen Mab with her, not back in New York, buried in piles of dusty books. Professor James Campbell was famous in linguistic circles for his translation skills. In his younger, wilder years he had been quite the adventurer himself, traveling the globe in search of ancient tomes and tablets, but in recent years he'd settled down with former sky pirate Chase Kilbourne.
Kilbourne had been the previous Captain of The Queen Mab; he'd passed it on to Ginny when he'd retired from pirating. Most of his crew had retired with him, and so she'd been forced to gather up her own: Tall, self-assured Jean Manne was her First Mate, and the only man aboard. Not that he minded; Jean was notoriously fond of the ladies. Mia Keystone had been a starving little urchin when Ginny had found her, but had proven her worth as ship's gearhead, keeping them in the sky through storm and shower of arrows; Christina Byrne was the lookout, her blue eyes sharper than an eagles; Estelle Flores kept the crew in tiptop shape with meals and medicine alike; and L.C. Milliner guarded and cared for the ship's little stash of weapons.
The ship was currently docked on a tiny island unimportant enough to even warrant a dot on her map. A good place to sleep, free of any inhabitants.
Or so they'd thought.
A horrifying shriek rent the night air, and Ginny's head snapped up, contemplation forgotten. Through the trees lights now sparkled, redder than the stars above.
"Captain!" The sound of boot on wood caused the Captain to shift slightly, just enough that she could look at the young blonde woman panting before her. "Captain, there are people, they're....they're coming...." She pointed toward the woods, where the red lights glowed bigger and brighter, bobbing up and down as they neared the shoreline.
Ginny's hand instinctively went to her waist, pulling her pistol from her holster. "Wake the crew." She commanded, not willing to risk that their midnight visitors might be friendly. Experience told her to take care.
Christina gave a sharp nod, turning to dash back down to the crew's quarters, but before she had taken a single step the natives crashed through the jungle, faces painted grotesquely, wildly yowling, holding torches and cruel spears aloft.
"Sh..." Ginny bit off a curse, taking aim at the nearest attacker. She couldn't hold them off alone; by the looks of them, even her entire crew armed and ready wouldn't be enough to fend off what was a large enough group to be a veritable army. "Change of orders, Byrne, we need to take off. Haul anchor while I keep them at bay."
She didn't wait for the lookout to answer, her attention once more on the painted attackers....
***
When she came to she was trussed up on a packed dirt floor, rope cutting into ankles and wrists. Her head throbbed painfully; she wished she had a hand free so she could rub the nape of her neck. It felt like she'd been stung by a giant wasp.
She opened her eyes to mere slits, taking in the surrounding area. There was sunlight, which meant some time had passed since they'd been captured, but there was thankfully very little of it as they appeared to be in some type of low building with openings that could just barely be called windows -- she didn't think her head would appreciate the light, not with the near blinding headache, so she was grateful for this. For the moment. The rest of her crew were there, also tied up, along with a lanky, dark-haired young man she didn't recognize. His beard looked ragged and unkempt; she wondered how long he'd been there for.
No. There was someone missing. She scanned the little group again. L.C. was missing. Dammit. Probably got herself killed; she would have gone down fighting.
Ginny struggled in her bonds, wiggling her fingers experimentally. They still worked, but the bonds held fast.
Sudden bright light flooded into the room, then was shut out immediately as two figures entered. Their faces were hideously painted, pale white with dark circles under their eyes and blood red lips. There were red designs on the face of the woman, designs that sparkled even in the dim lighting of the prison. Her hair was oddly colored, dyed a brilliant pink. Ginny presumed the two must be sorcerers or shamans of some sort. She grimaced; she hated magic users. That might have been an unfair bias, as her sole interactions with them tended to be when she was making off with their sacred artifacts -- and that foolish magician back in New York, LaRousse. L.C. may have been a fan, but Ginny most certainly was not.
"Why have you come here?" The woman's voice dripped with undisguised disdain. "Did you not know the penalty for lodging on our island?" A glint of white sparkled in her mouth and Ginny squinted to get a closer look; did she have fangs?
"Apologies." She lifted her head, unwilling to be cowed even in the presence of obvious power (and fangs). "We did not know this island was occupied. We merely wished to take refuge for one night."
"Lies." The pink-haired sorceress hissed, approaching the prisoners with the dry rustle of scales. Ginny felt the hairs on her arm stand up. She forced herself only to glance out of the corner of her eyes, but that was enough to confirm her suspicion: Naga. Shit. She didn't want to be Naga food. "But it matters not."
"Ummmmm." Ginny licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry with fear. Mere humans she could face down, but Naga were another matter entirely. She hated snakes. "But it isn't a lie! We had no idea you -- " She began, but the Naga woman cut her off.
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse." The Naga waved one hand imperiously. "Tonight we feast on huma---" It was her turn to be cut off, this time by the sharp rapport of a gun. She slumped forward, and Ginny shrank back, half afraid she was going to be crushed under the body.
"Lady Sidra!" The male Naga slithered toward his fallen companion as another shot rang out.
Behind the two bodies stepped a bleach-blonde young woman in an outfit only a dance-hall girl would be caught dead in; and that is exactly what its occupant had been before joining the crew of The Queen Mab.
"L.C.!" Ginny sighed in relief as the weapons-master untied her. "Ewww. You got Naga guts on my boots." She leaned down to inspect her leather boots, grimacing at the scarlet splatters now adorning the toes. "Gross."
"Hey, you'd rather have their guts on your boots than be in their guts, right?" L.C. pointed out, and Ginny sighed.
"Right."
***
The Queen Mab was in the sky once more, sapphire ocean stretching out below her for unending miles. Jean leaned over the railing beside Ginny. "Why aren't we throwing him overboard again?" He whispered, glancing back toward the lanky young man they'd rescued from the Nagas. Well, L.C. had rescued. Technicalities.
"Because we need him." Ginny waved the treasure map in front of Jean irritably. "And I'll be damned if I let him go before he finishes translating this."
Capture by the Nagas had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, at least in Ginny's mind, as it had lead them directly to fellow victim Eli Morrison, linguist extraordinaire. It was quite possible he was as good as her father. Almost. Maybe.
The only problem was that Eli was extremely surly, complaining constantly about the food Estelle served (she did the best she could!) and the fact that he was stuck on the ship with them. Ginny thought he ought to be grateful they'd taken him with them instead of leaving him to take the heat for the death of the Naga leaders, but he didn't seem to see things the same way. She put up with him because she believed him when he said he'd be able to translate the map; after all, her father had talked about him with respect.
She scuffed her boot against the deck, giving Sir Morrison a good, healthy glare. If he'd just be faster with translating her map then she could drop him off somewhere civilized. He glared back. Definitely not in any hurry. Jerk.
***
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ginny held her hands up, suspicion welling up inside her. "What do you mean you won't translate the map? Don't you know who I am?"
"I don't care if you're Queen Victoria." Eli snapped, arms folded across his chest, slouched down in the chair across from her. "You've got no right to hold me here. I demand to be taken back to London."
"Christ!" Ginny swore, banging one hand down against her desk. "We're not anywhere near England. Hello, following the treasure map? Sorry, you're stuck with us until we're done. If you won't help us with the map then you can go help Mia. Have fun playing with coal, bookworm."
***
"Why the hell did you stick him with me?" Mia groaned, toying with the orange peel, the only remnant of her breakfast. "He's a pain in the ass."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know. But I needed him to do something useful since he won't translate that damn map."
"He'd better do it soon or I'm gonna lose my mind..." Mia muttered, flicking her peel across the table to splat against the back of Eli's head.
Ginny stifled a giggle as Eli swiveled his head to glare at them. She gave him a smile and shrugged, turning back to her own breakfast. He deserved it.
***
"Great! You'll help us? Ginny beamed at the scowling man in front of her.
He muttered something, looking sullen and scuffing his feet against the floor.
Ginny slid the map across the desk to him, "Just tell us what this part means..." She told him, tapping at the red letters.
Eli took the map. "It might take me a few days." He warned, but Ginny simply smiled.
***
Ginny bent over the map, Jean hovering behind her, while Eli explained what he'd discovered to them. "It says the treasure is cursed." He informed them, tapping on one particular character. "But there's a word here I don't know, I've never seen it before. Nas. It may be a given name, but I'm not sure."
Ginny shrugged and grinned at him. "Cursed, huh? Sounds like fun." She turned to Jean, who grinned back at her.
"Let's go get us some treasure!"
This Means War!
1812, Aboard the good ship Pilot Ridge
The small vessel cut through the blue waves at a good pace, keeping close to the USS Hammel, which had been assigned to protect the smaller merchant ship. The captain of the small Pilot Ridge stood on the fo’c’sle, smiling at the sea around her.
“It’s a good day to be at sea, Mr. Weaver,” the captain said to her first mate.
“Yes indeed, Captain Gold. But I am a bit worried about the British. They could send someone to board our ship.”
“They’d have to get through our good friend the USS Hammel first, though. Don’t worry, I’m sure we will be perfectly safe.”
The first mate looked askance at the larger military vessel ahead of them. “I don’t know, ma’am. There’s something about that ship I just don’t like.”
“Pish posh, sir. Such dreadful thoughts will get you nowhere. Just because you don’t like the captain doesn’t mean the whole ship is bad. In fact, I’m tempted to trust them more just because the captain was willing to stand up to you.” She laughed.
“I’m sure Captain Neville is a fine…gentleman…” Mr. Weaver said through gritted teeth. “I just don’t particularly agree to his policies. I mean, they basically work a press-gang to get ship hands!”
“None of that. You need a good cooling off. Today’s supposed to be a good day! Go down and get some chow from the ship’s cooks. I’ll check on the state of affairs with the rest of the crew.”
Mr. Weaver headed down to the galley to talk to the two ship’s cooks, Tonaya and Adams. He agreed that some food and a nice talk with some of his friends might cool his head for the start of the voyage.
Meanwhile, Captain Gold made her way to the front of the ship, right up next to the mast so she could call up to the lookout. “See any ships approaching, Mr. Rhodes?”
“No, Cap’n!” the man called down to her.
“Might it be because you’re not really looking for ships but instead working on finishing your knitting?”
“Aye, Cap’n, that might be it,” he called back sheepishly.
“Plenty of time for hobbies when you’re off-duty, sir. How ‘bout you do us all a favor and put that spyglass to good use?”
“Aye, Cap’n.” He placed his knitting down next to him and held up the telescope.
“The other way, Mr. Rhodes,” Captain Gold called, already walking away.
“Right, Cap’n.” He grinned and quickly reversed the telescope so that he was looking through it the right way.
The captain came up near the cabin area, where a man was bent over a stack of papers, scribbling furiously. He started upright when Captain Gold’s shadow fell across his work, almost spilling the bottle of ink he was working from.
“Hello, Mr. Bernstein,” she said, looking at the work. “I trust the ship’s finances are still in proper order? Nothing I should be aware of?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, already going back through his papers. “But I would like to point out that some of the rights of the crew are being seriously infringed. You basically keep those cooks chained to their galley—I never see them come up for air anymore! Furthermore, I was going through the list of rules for the ship, and I think there can be some serious changes made that will allow for more free time.”
She looked at him. “You mean you want more smoke breaks.”
He gave her an indignant frown and harrumphed a few times. “Of course that’s not…Do you mean to imply that I…”
The captain waved a hand. “Sir, feel free to make whatever changes you wish. Just let me know. By the way, where is your assistant?”
“Ms. Adams? I believe she was going through your cabin to ensure that there weren’t any papers that needed to be looked at again.”
“Hey, wait! I’ve already done those papers, they don’t need re-checking!” She hurried off in a rush toward her cabin, the accountant already chuckling behind her as he pored over his reports again.
As they were all running about on the ship, Mr. Rhodes, the lookout, returned quietly to his knitting. It was because of this that no one saw the ship with red sails coming up behind them.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard the USS Hammel
“Captain! There’s a ship coming up behind us!” The first mate came running up toward the captain, panting. “It’s a British ship, which is for some reason bearing red sails.”
Captain Neville looked thoughtfully into the distance. “Red sails? Then it must be…but no…but it must!”
“What is it, Captain?” The first mate looked thoughtfully.
“Mr. Kilbourne, that is the ship of Captain Underwood, an evil villain who is out to destroy all US ships. He used to be one of my pupils, a true American. But then he absconded, joining the British and vowing to destroy all good Americans.”
“No, it cannot be, sir!”
“But it is. My destiny has come upon me, and I must face it.” Swirling his cape across his shoulders, the captain strode off into his cabin to look thoughtful and consider a plan. After a brief moment of wondering when the captain had gotten a cape, First Mate Kilbourne decided to act in a similar fashion. He went to speak to the man on lookout duty, Lieutenant Campbell, so the two could discuss plans together.
One of the ship’s boys, a certain Mr. Scholl, overheard the discussion between the captain and first mate. He carefully stopped mopping the deck and ran to tell his friend, Keystone, about the coming ship. She took the news with careful consideration, then decided to pass the news along to the rest of the ship. Soon the whole underbelly of Hammel was teeming with gossip and rumors.
No one really noticed Mr. Jesse Adams sneak away from his post to set some lanterns in the back of the ship. The lanterns were made with red glass that would glow distinctly in the night. “This’ll teach these bloody Americans,” he said as he secured the lamps. “God save the king!”
As Jesse came sneaking away from the back of the ship, he almost ran into three men—well, older boys, but they liked to think of themselves as men—marching around with their rifles. The marines were not there to sail the ship but to guard any potential prisoners and deal with officials on the land. Because there currently weren’t any prisoners and they weren’t on land, this meant that the three (LaRousse, Paerson, and Wilkes) had a lot of free time which they used marching around looking stern. Or at least looking potentially threatening. Or in some cases just goofy.
They walked right past Jesse, who had promptly stood to attention and offered them a large salute. Mr. Paerson gave him a suspicious glance as they went by, but then, he tended to give everyone suspicious glances. Then the trio were on their way, turning a corner and disappearing. Jesse made a rude gesture towards the disappearing marines and continued in the opposite direction, smiling like a wolf.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard HMS MSAD
“We’re gaining on them, Captain Underwood.”
“Excellent. And from the looks of it, Ms. Degreas, we will catch up to them by this evening.”
“Still plenty of time for them to turn around and fire a broadside at us. Once they realize that we’re fast enough to catch them.”
“Nonsense. They’re not going to attack us unless we open fire first. I know the captain, and he wouldn’t dare. He’ll keep running in the hopes that he can outrun his destiny.” The captain raised his fist and said through clenched teeth, “But he won’t escape this time.”
“Very good sir.” The first mate turned from her captain and went to deliver orders to the rest of the crew. For a moment, the captain looked after her in amazement.
“Sometimes,” he said to himself, “I could swear there were two of her, the way she gets so much done.” Then he shrugged it off and continued staring after his prey.
“Captain!” came the cry from the lookout station. “The signal has been set! Two red lights off the rear of the ship!” Ms. Stone had the spyglass pressed to her face. “What was the meaning again, sir? One if by land, two if—“
“Don’t be stupid! Of course they were going by sea, they were in a ship!”
“Just making a joke, sir!”
“Well stop it. It wasn’t funny.” He stalked away to the lower deck, where a man was poring over charts. “What’s the report, Mr. Ortiz?”
The mercenary tracker looked up sardonically. He did everything sardonically, even if the situation didn’t necessarily call for it. “You can see the ship, I just heard you. Why do you need a report of where it is?”
Captain Underwood opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. “Good point. What’s your plan, then?”
“To not move from this spot until someone can bring me some food.”
“I’ll get the new midshipman to help you. Mr. Xu? Could you get Mr. Ortiz a plate of food from the galley?”
The young man looked up cheerfully from playing with the ship’s dogs. “Sure thing, Gabe.”
The captain scowled. “On this ship, I would prefer it if you referred to me as ‘Captain.’”
“Sure, cap. Be right back.” He ran off toward the galley.
“You’ll train him eventually, sir,” said the first mate, coming up from behind.
“Yes,” the captain mused. Then he spun around. “I thought you were alerting the ship and giving orders?”
“Done, sir. Thought you might want some more help.”
“That was…incredibly fast, Ms. Degreas.”
“Time flies, sir.”
“Well, I suppose there’s not much more to do. Go to my cabin and pour a glass of wine.”
“Being done as we speak.”
“What?”
“I mean, I’ll get right on that.”
“…Right. Thank you.”
The first mate spun on her heel and went up to the captain’s cabin. This was going to be a good day.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard the Pilot Ridge
“Captain!” Master at Arms Ginny Campbell came roaring up from her post. “We’ve received a message from the USS Hammel. Apparently they have sighted another ship. We need to make all speed to catch up to the Hammel and ensure that we are protected.”
“Thank you, Campbell,” Captain Gold said. “Prepare the Long Tom as well. We do have a few guns on this ship, and I intend to use them. Pilot Ridge will not succumb without a fight.” She marched toward the foremast where a certain lookout was dozing in the sunlight.
“Mr. Rhodes!” the captain called out, but there was no response. Frowning, she kicked off her boots and climbed into the rigging. It was something she tried to keep practice with, and was often forced out of necessity to do. She was one of the youngest members of the ship, in actuality, and she sometimes had to go aloft. Now she swiftly climbed to the lookout station and rapped the sleeping ship hand on the scalp. “Awaken, ye filthy sod,” she said.
“Aaaah!” he said as he looked up to see a large face in his vision. He quickly stood to attention, saluting the shorter woman in front of him. “Sorry, Cap’n. Must’ve dozed off in the warm sun.”
“I gathered as much, Mr. Rhodes. Consider yourself permanently off lookout duty. I will have to reassign your post to someone with an attention span of more than five minutes.” With that she launched herself over the side again and made her way rapidly down toward the deck and back into her boots. Then she marched quickly up to the fo’c’sle and started shouting orders. While she was at it, she called for Ms. Caraway to come up on deck.
“Ms. Caraway,” she said to the happy woman, “I know that you have been helping out in the galley, and I hate to pull you away from your duty there, but would it be possible for you to work as a new lookout? I’ve recently found a need for a replacement.”
“Yes, ma’am, miss Captain. I can certainly do my best. But…will I be the only lookout?”
“Not to worry, there are others who take shifts. And hopefully this will only be a temporary condition.”
“Right.” And with that the new lookout climbed up to the lookout platform and took up the spyglass. “My word! There’s a ship out there, captain, with red sails! And it’s almost on top of us!”
“Yes, I suspected there might be. Ms. Campbell, are the cannons ready?”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
“Right. Mr. Weaver has the con.”
First Mate Weaver stepped up. “I have the con!” he shouted out to all and sundry. Then the captain returned to her cabin to pore over charts and to prepare a message to send over to the Hammel asking about what should be done in this situation.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard the USS Hammel
“Message from the Pilot Ridge, sir,” said Lieutenant Campbell. “Apparently they are wondering what sort of tactics to employ in these circumstances.”
Captain Neville rubbed his chin thoughtfully before responding. “We are not officially at war with the British at this time, and we cannot open fire unless they first attempt to attack. However, to be safe, I think we should try to let the merchant vessel sail in front of us while we take a rearward position between them and the enemy.”
“Right, Captain. I shall have a response sent to the Pilot Ridge and give orders for us to draw in the sails for a moment to allow the other ship to pass us.” The lieutenant saluted and turned away to give the new orders.
The captain called for his Master-at-Arms to join him. Ms. Nakajima slinked up from wherever she had previously been positioned. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Have your men ready the cannons and stand by. Do not fire yet, but be prepared for action.”
“Yes, sir.” And she slunk away back into the shadows.
Captain Neville sat at his desk and wondered what more could be done. Should he turn his side to the enemy, better able to fire on them but leaving the USS Hammel and the Pilot Ridge to be separated and thus more exposed? Should he continue running and hope that the other ship would just pass by? Nervously, he paced the deck.
In a time of crisis like this, he needed someone level-headed to talk to. He went to find his clerk, Mr. Morrison.
The underbelly of the Hammel was also worked up over the news, and each group of individuals was dealing with it in their own way. Ship hand Keystone, who was in charge of one of the cannon crews, had pulled together her men and was readying her cannon. King was in charge of loading, Scholl was a powder monkey, and Keystone was set to fire the whole thing off. She’d smeared some white paint on her cheeks to make herself appear more fierce, and to further distinguish her crew from the others. Milliner, who was in charge of the next cannon over, merely growled and glared at Keystone’s crew and cannon, nicknamed “Ball-blaster.” The rivalry between the two cannon crews led reload rate to be increased by fifty percent, so no one really complained.
The red-sailed ship was moving in quickly. Keystone leaned across her cannon and stared out the small porthole to glance around the back and view the ship. “Bloody British,” she scowled. “We’ll blow ‘em all to hell. Right boys?” Her team nodded agreement.
“They won’t even know what hit them,” Milliner said with a ferocious grin.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard HMS MSAD
“We should kill them all now,” growled Avlang, one of the ship hands. “I don’t know why we’re wasting our time. We can just turn the cannons on them and have done with it all.”
“Hush, darling.” A beautiful blonde sat next to him, stroking his hand with hers and calming him. “We must listen to the captain. And we don’t want to kill everyone. We have to do this properly. Quietly.”
Avlang grunted and stared at his clenched fists for a moment before turning to van Drakke. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“And I love you. Do not worry, everything will work out perfectly.”
The first mate walked by and made a disgusted face for half a moment before returning to normal. “The captain requests your presence in his cabin.”
The two ship hands slowly rose and walked up to the cabin, still holding hands. As they left, Midshipman Xu came up from belowdecks, leading one of the ship’s dogs.
“Aww, they’re so cute together,” he said. “Like…like an angel and his wife.”
“Don’t you mean an angel and her man?” Degreas asked.
“No. Men are angels. There’s the angel Gabriel, and Michael, and Rafael, and—“
“Forget I asked.” And she drifted off, leaving Xu alone with the dogs looking out toward the ships in front of them.
“We should catch up to the other ships soon, Rufus,” the young midshipman said. “I wonder who else will be there. Maybe someone else my age. Maybe they can join us and we can all work together with Gabe. That might be nice.”
Captain Underwood paced in front of his cabin until the two requested shiphands came to him. He looked up. “Ivan. Anastasia. I am glad to see you. I need you to ready your cannons and to prepare the ship for battle. You two have the most experience with actual sea battles, so I want you to take charge now. Can you do that?”
The two looked at each other and smiled. “Our pleasure,” they said together.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard the USS Hammel
“The Pilot Ridge has moved forward, sir,” Kilbourne called back to the captain. “And it appears that the ship behind us is within cannon range.”
“What makes you say that, Mr. Kilbourne?” Captain Neville asked as a cannonball flew across the water and landed next to the ship.
The British ship was still in pursuit of the Hammel, but it was also now firing with its front cannon, making a few potshots, probably in the hopes that one would get lucky. Should one of the shots happen to land correctly, it could fell the mast or put a hole through the hull of the ship, forcing the military vessel to run for land so they could patch up the destruction.
“Permission to turn and engage in combat with the enemy, sir?”
“Indeed, Mr. Kilbourne. Give the orders.”
“Turn her about, men! Let’s get ready to give them a broadside!” Kilbourne called out to the ship hands. Now that they were being fired on, the battle had begun. “Keystone, Milliner, Flores, Hart, I want your teams ready to fire.”
“We’ve been ready to go for ages now,” Milliner muttered under her breath. “It’s those damn bureaucrats who can’t manage to get their acts together in time.”
“No point in complaining about it,” Flores said, trying to make peace as usual. “Let’s just get ready to go, all right?”
At that moment, Jesse Adams came by, carrying a large rucksack. As he walked past the cannons, he managed to stumble and crash against a pile of cannonballs that had been prepared, sending them rolling across the lower deck. “Oops,” he said with a barely-concealed grin before continuing toward on to the stairs and up onto the main deck.
“Powder monkeys, hurry and grab those before they get in the way!” Keystone called out, pointing at the three young boys standing nearby. They all snapped off a salute and began to chase after the cannonballs.
“That sounds…eerie,” Flores said, listening to the rolling of the metal against the deck. She shivered a little before turning back to her cannon and sighting along it.
“Sound of mutiny, you know,” Hart responded. “Cannonballs rolling across a deck. Mutiny. It’s one of the signs that a crew doesn’t trust its captain and that if he keeps going the way he is, there’ll be trouble.” Then she shrugged. “Not that there’s any meaning to it now, of course.”
The other three girls all looked at her for a moment before returning to their work. At her cannon, Fiona Hart began to hum, a sound that rang deep in her throat. Another sign of mutiny.
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard the Pilot Ridge
“They’re going to fight, Captain,” Mr. Weaver said. “What would you have us do?”
“I assume they’ve ordered us to press on?” Captain Gold asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I see. And what would you have us do?”
“I say this time…we follow orders. We don’t need to get caught up in this.”
At that moment the lookout, Caraway, dropped down. “I say we fight,” she said. “We aren’t going to buckle down for a bunch of low-life British scum, are we?”
“And I say we listen to Captain Neville.” Ms. Campbell emerged from belowdecks, frowning. “I don’t like abandoning that ship any more than you do. I even have family there. But they know what they’re doing, and if we don’t leave now it’ll all be for nothing.”
“If we press on, we’ll be abandoning our escort!” cried Caraway. “We will be like sitting ducks for any other ships, so there’s no real point going on anyway.”
“Who’s to say we will meet any other ships? We’re nearing our destination.” Mr. Weaver frowned as he thought about the situation.
“That’s just it though, isn’t it?” Now Rhodes had come up from his location and was frowning. “We’re near the port. Won’t there be more enemy ships hoping to attack us as soon as we leave the big guns?”
Back and forth the debate went, with Captain Gold watching the arguments. The crew seemed split about half and half, and the deciding vote came down to her.
“Well, Captain?” Weaver finally said, turning to her. “What are your orders?”
She stood there for a moment in silence before speaking. “Turn her about. If we’re going to stay to fight, we’d better be able to use the cannon.”
-------------------------------------------------
Aboard HMS MSAD
“They’re both turning to fight, sir,” reported the crewman. “The big and the little ship.”
“Are they all mad?” muttered Underwood under his breath.
“We should attack the smaller ship,” informed Avlang. “Hit them and wait for the naval ship to try to save them, then attack while they’re weak. We will fight without mercy.”
“It is a good plan,” van Drakke said to the captain. “We should hit them now, strike fast and hard.”
“Wait!” Underwood said, holding up his hand. “Do you see that?”
A small lifeboat was being lowered off the back end of the Hammel. A small blonde figure scurried down the line and jumped into the boat, releasing it from the larger ship and rowing back toward the British ship.
Avlang frowned. “Kill them before they get close.”
“No, I think these are our allies.” Captain Underwood grinned ferociously. “Allies and captives.”
Jesse rowed the boat up to the British ship. “Throw down a line and help me lug up these two layabouts!” he called up. “Hart stayed back on the other ship. And I should get back soon, too, before they start to miss me.”
In no time at all, there were two new captives in the brig of the MSAD. Everything was working out perfectly.
TO BE CONTINUED…(maybe)
[I'm sorry. It just kept growing.]
