The Scourge - Pirates & Privateers

Chapter 27: We sail again

'No one is immune from justice, Miss Ealing,' Jones smirked again. 'Not even your heroes. As for your last point, if you have any accusations to make against me, I would be very careful about voicing them.'

'I don't need to voice them. Toros is in custody; he's my witness. All I have to do is get him up on the stand in front of a judge, and your crimes will be exposed as naked as a whore on payday.'

'Emily!' her father gasped. 'What's got into you?!'

'I think, Ealing,' Jones continued, looming over Emily, 'that she's been spending too much time around pirates. She's forgotten how British justice is done. Do you really think that any English judge would take the word of a convicted Spanish pirate and prisoner of war over one of their most trusted merchants? Besides, you're wasting your efforts. Toros will be dead by sunrise anyway; the scaffold is already prepared. You don't have a leg to stand on.'

Emily squared up to Jones, almost standing on tiptoe to match his height. 'They're not pirates... they're privateers! And I do have one thing: once you get those men up on the stand, everyone will see just how honourable, and loyal, and kind they are. Once they speak, no court in the land will ever believe any of them to be violent criminals. Especially not Martin Hamish; he's as gentle as they come. Good luck getting them to believe you once he speaks.'

'Sir!' their sparring was interrupted by a red-coated soldier with a pair of irons under his belt and a musket over his shoulder. He seemed out of breath and deschevelled somehow, but when he approached the party, he still had the wherewithal to salute. The Lieutenant returned his saluted. 'Lieutenant. Miss. Captains.'

'Ah, sergeant. How goes the pirate hunt? Did any of them put up a struggle?'

The sergeant shook his head. Jones turned back to Emily with a sanctimonious grin on his face, when the sergeant took a step forward. 'T-they weren't there, sir.'

Jones furrowed his brow and glared at the soldier. 'What do you mean "they weren't there"? I told you which pub, and I told you which ship. If they weren't at one, they were at the other. What's so hard about that?'

'We checked the pub, sir,' the soldier swallowed nervously, 'and all the ones along the seafront, and deep into town. There's no trace of them. And the ship, the Señora... it's gone.'

'Gone? Gone where?'

'At a guess,' Lieutenant Colbert interrupted, peering down his spyglass, 'I would say that's them on the horizon.'

Emily followed the direction of his telescope and saw the tall blotch of a warship on the horizon, faded by a light mist and the glare of the setting sun.

'See?' Jones said. 'Innocent people don't run from the law. These men are as black as they come, and when I return to my office, I shall write a letter to the Queen herself declaring that these men should be branded as outlaws.'

'There's more, sir,' the solider interrupted again. For this, he couldn't look Jones in the eye, electing instead to stare down at his knees. 'They... they took everything. The trading company warehouses; they're all empty – raided. Most of the workers vanished, all of the stores ransacked. Your warehouse was among them, sir. They hit yours worst of all. There's almost nothing left of the place. They even tried to burn it down.'

Jones turned a sickly shade of green. 'E-everything? Gone?'

The soldier nodded. 'Everything... including your supply of ink in the basement, sir. They left nothing.'

'Ink?' Emily's father asked, an expression of amused bewilderment on his broad face. 'What on Earth would they need ink for?'

***

'Hoist the black!'

The flag of the Spanish Cross had been all but eliminated owing to a dunking in a barrel of ink. They raised it by halyard at the stern and let it flutter itself dry, shimmering like anthracite.

Schleckt prowled the deck, inspecting the men as they busied themselves with their work.

'Mister Mosi, how are the crew settled?' he asked.

'Cheerful and content, so far,' the Bosun replied. 'Everyone is integrating well, but I'll let you know of the first sign of trouble.'

'Good man. How are the cannons looking, Mister Ulrich?'

'As smart as paint,' the Gunner replied. 'Ready for war.'

'Excellent news. Are the stores in order, Mister Jennes?'

'Right as rain,' the Purser saluted. 'We could spend two winters firing guns and we'd not run dry of food or powder. And we'll make a tidy profit when we turn all those goods in.'

'Great work.'

Schleckt ambled over to the Carpenter, who had made good efforts to sand off the previous name of the ship from the stern-plate. He took a glance at the parchment at his side, which had the ornate design of a new nameplate drawn in charcoal – a scroll, with the words "King Henry's Scourge" written from end to end.

'Looks great, Mister Young. You'll have it finished by daybreak?'

'Aye, sir,' the Carpenter nodded.

'Brilliant. Keep up the good work, gents.' Schleckt turned on his heel and made his way to the quarterdeck, where Captain Hamish stood at the helm. 'All's well, Captain.'

'That's good to hear. Thank you, Mister Quartermaster.'

'My pleasure, sir. So, what's our heading?'

'First, to Nassau, to repay our debts. And I say we plunder every ship that dares to cross our path along the way.'

'And after Nassau?'

Martin turned to Schleckt and smiled; an adventurous spark flared deep in his eye.

'After; who knows?'

Captain Hamish whipped the wheel with a dexterous hand. The sails roared as they caught the wind and the King Henry's Scourge leapt forward like a dolphin breaching the waves. She flew across the sea, and as the mounting wind combed through Martin's hair, the sun just touched the horizon ahead.

That was the direction the Scourge and her crew headed – to chase the sun in search of new shores and hunt adventure wherever the wind took them.

The End