The tension rose by the second as we waited for the soldiers to advance on our position. They took their time; they knew we were trapped and that we had nowhere to run to. We watched in cold horror as a group broke off from the main attacking force and made their way to our stricken ship. It wasn’t long before grey smoke drifted into the air and we could hear the crackling of burning wood in the air. They torched the ship and we saw the proud pirate vessel take her final bow before disappearing into the still waters of the bay. It was like saying goodbye to a family member, one that carried us safely through many storms and battles. I didn’t need to say it but I could feel the silent rage building up under the pirate crew.
“Make them pay, my brothers.” St Michelle said in a terrifying and cold voice, leaning a musket over the parapet of the fort. I looked back at Gavorche, sitting back against a crumbling white wall while a crew member bound a piece of cloth around his waist. He looked up at me and nodded through the pain, we both knew that none of us should expect mercy if the soldiers overran us. St Michelle took careful aim, his finger caressing the trigger when he felt the hand of the Captain on the barrel.
“Hold your fire.” He spoke in a calm voice but I could hear the fire raging inside him. He kept his head when we were all ready to lose ours.
“Captain?” Asked the North African glancing up, unsure for the first time.
“Only fire on my order, understand? There’s a natural ridge running up from the coast and we are going to split them in two. Take half of the men and keep your muskets trained on the forest line over there. If anyone comes through there, you know what to do.”
“Yes Captain. “He quickly sent some of the pirates over to the far side of the fort.
“Excellent,” A dark magic glittered in the pirate captain’s eyes as he saw the British soldiers advance up the hill. “Now my friend, train your rifle a few yards below that outcropping of rocks to the right. What do you see there?”
St Michelle looked through his sights and shook his head in amazement. “A barrel but how…”
“Foresight. Do you think you can hit it from here?”
“A simple task for a Tuareg warrior. Waiting on your order captain.” De La Roca looked down at me with piercing green eyes. I took a deep breath and held up the gauntlet. It surged and hummed but it was a dark energy that flowed through me. Like a ravenous wolf hungry for blood, it sent my soul boiling in a black rage. I had never felt something so powerful, so visceral, so damn good inside me. It was an insatiable drug and I wanted more. A gunmetal blue musket appeared in my hands and I cannot explain this but it felt like I knew exactly what to do with it, it felt like it was a part of me.
“Hold! Hold!” Shouted the Captain, the madness dancing in his eyes. As we saw the first soldiers appear above the ridgeline, he lowered his cutlass, pointing it straight at the heart of the sun. “Now.” St Michelle’s aim was true as a single bullet streaked through the sky. The gunpowder barrel exploded in a brilliant haze of fire and smoke, sending bodies cart wheeling like twisted rag dolls. The British gave a mighty roar and broke ranks storming forward. They were met with a vicious volley of gunfire that tore through the lines.
Then came the captain’s second surprise. We could hear the panicked and hopeless screams of the soldiers to our left over the sounds of gunfire. Those wretched souls that came through the jungle met their grisly fate as they marched straight into the waiting booby traps. The Bear traps and spiked pits killed scores. Some stumbled over trip wires and watch in horror as poison tipped arrows tore through their flesh.
Those who survived the onslaught of the forest walked straight into a wall of lead. The pirates mercilessly laid into the soldiers that emerged from the tree line, their panicked screams drowned out in a symphony of musket fire and blood. But they kept on coming, streaming towards us on both sides of the ridge. For every man we brought down, two more took his place. We kept on going, the same routine over and over again till we became numb and cold inside- load, take aim, fire, get down, reload, back up again and repeat. Our casualties were heavy and soon our numbers started dwindling as the pirates slumped to the ground one by one. The bodies of the soldiers piled up as the British grimly climbed over their fallen comrades, weaving their way through the cannon fire and explosions around them. The reality set in that our ammunition would not last for much longer, there were simply too many of them and too few of us. It was only a matter of time.
