Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Fifty-Three - SURVIVAL

Fifty - Three - SURVIVAL

April 1717

Sam stood at the bow of the Whydah Gally looking out. The turquoise water surrounding the small island faded into a rich, blue ocean. The beauty however was lost on him, as his eyes were set on the fleet of Corsair gallys sailing directly toward him. Their survival depended on Sam’s ability to outwit the barbarians. If he failed, every man in his flotilla would either die or become slaves to the Sultan.

The plan was to create a formation of two lines of two ships. They would force the first corsair gally between the two lines and send it to the bottom, evening out the numbers.

The Corsair gally’s approached with the lead gally out front. Sam’s white knuckles tapped nervously on the railing. Fear settled in with the foreign look of the gallys. Sam looked through his scope and studied the dark features of who he assumed to be the captain of the first ship.

The enemy seemed to slow their approach, but on second glance, it was only the first ship that slowed. The Barbary formation morphed into a straight line and then began to curve into a crescent moon shape. Sam slammed his fist on the rail “Damn,” he said watching his plan fall apart. He looked over to the other ships in his flotilla but now was not the time for a discussion. He motioned for all his captains to sail forward. They would meet the enemy head on.

“Hendrick,” Sam yelled turning to see his big friend already standing next to him.

“Yes, sir.”

“I need you to take command of this ship,” Sam said walking back amidships.

“Right now?” Hendrick called after him.

Sam stopped, looked at his friend, and tried to hold it together. “Yes, right now. Can you do it?”

Hendrick’s usually cheery disposition disappeared into his angled brows. “Yes, sir.”

Sam could not worry about his friend right now; the only plan that seemed like it would even come close to working had just vanished before his eyes. He had to do something quick, and he could not consult with the other captains so he was alone on this one. “Good, you’re now Captain.” Sam ran back to John at the Helm.

“Please tell me you have another plan,” John said.

“See the furthest ship to our right?” Sam said pointing to it.

“Of course I do.”

“Put us on her starboard. As close as she can get, understood?”

John nodded. “Understood.”

Good enough, he thought now running to the riggers. “I need volunteers for a deadly mission. Who will join me?”

Every rigger raised his hand without hesitation. Sam smiled; he had not planned to have his choice, thinking he may get a few crazy volunteers only. Apparently, his men were all crazy. He chose twenty-five of them. “Get swords, guns, whatever weapon you can get your hands on.” They all scattered, and Sam ran down to the gunnery and did the same.

Sam knelt by the starboard rail with the men he had gathered. “Any chance that we are to survive depends on the success of this mission. Their numbers triple ours, so we must be sharp.” Sam scanned his little army. “Fight with this,” Sam said tapping his head, “and we will live.”

Sam stood and got Paulgrave’s attention. He made gestures that he hoped would tell Paulgrave to mirror his ship. The Sultana and the Mary Anne peeled away from Cyprian and Prince.