Chapter 8

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Pirates must earn a living by sacking other ships, but what they often forget in this pursuit is that other pirates do the same thing. A fact which sunk home when a cannonball blew off the Jigger mast.

Night was often the most dangerous time at sea, though this one had started peacefully. Midnight came and went without incident, the watches till awake and alert. But slaver ships are painted black, intended to blend into the night, and there was almost no warning until the cannon fired.

The crew flooded the decks, firing cannons and ready to attack when the ships drew closer together. Carmen was one of these, for once not caring about saving anyone besides herself and crew. She threw a grappling hook and swung across, hardly knowing where she was swinging and blocking, barely seeing faces, and yet so engaged in the moment she could describe every thrust, every parry, see fear or hatred in the eyes her enemies, and smell sweat and gunpowder.

Only when she saw the orange flicker of fire at the bow of The Siren was she torn from her concentration. She left her fight and ran until she stood in front of the blaze, barely able to breath in the heat. She pulled up a bucket of water, poured it over her head, and dove through the door. The battle neared its end, with no clear victory, just a sort of cease fire, the ships withdrew and the crew started to toss water on the fire. Shortly after this began, two figures stumbled out of the burning wreckage. Somebody ran to help, but was waved away quickly and urgently. But they had seen too much. "It's Carmen! And a man in an army uniform!"

Eyes turned from their urgent work to verify for themselves, and witnessed Carmen, hair singed, charred spots on her clothing from burning ash, lurch away from the fire to the middle of the deck, where she set the second figure, whose legs had given up carrying him. She took his arm from where it had been leaning for support around her shoulders and set it next to his side.

Fire finally stopped, a crowd gathered around the two, whispering and darks looks shot back and forth, some giggling intermixed. Carmen ignored them and focussed on the unconscious Sam. His hair was even more burnt than Carmen's, and he had fairly serious burns on his back and side. She cut off the smouldering remains of his shirt, and lay him of his back. He still had a strong pulse, but Carmen couldn't see his chest moving up and down, or feel air coming from his mouth and nose. She placed her hands on his sternum and pushed down, hard, five times, and then sealed her mouth over his, trying to make his lungs function. The captain came to the front of the group just as Carmen started the cycle again, and Sam started coughing, a thin trickle of blood running out of his mouth onto the deck.

As he breathed again and turned onto his side the assembled crowd let out a collective breath. Before Carmen dropped unconscious as Sam had from lack of oxygen, and Sam kept coughing up blood from the ash and smoke in his lungs

***

Carmen woke not much later, still on the deck. Sam was being watched carefully under sword point, as Jenna treated his burns with cool water. She didn't look over when Carmen sat up, but waved a hand, and three swords were at Carmen's throat. Still ignoring her, Jenna assessed Sam's burns further, decreed he would need no more attention if he was careful, then turned to Carmen. "You've messed up, kid. What were you thinking?"

Carmen slowly stood up so she was closer to eye level with this imposing woman, which sent her coughing, bent over double. Jenna put a hand under her elbow and helped her up. "I understand the only way this soldier could be on board is if he was under your jurisdiction. Betrayal of your crew and captain, breaking of the most premier rule on this ship. We must all be punished for our crimes."

She lowered her voice so only Carmen could hear her. "Why are you doing this? Helping this soldier? This isn't why I trained you personally. This isn't you."

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