Stargate Atlantis: Latitude

Chapter 15 Canister and a Conference

Leaping down onto the deck of the Silver Flyer, John lost his footing straight away on the slick, bloody surface, and would have lost his life were it not for his instinctive defence in bringing up the pike to block a slashing blow from a cutlass. He forced away the cutlass, managed to get his feet under him, and knocked his opponent senseless with a heavy blow from his pistol.  John stuck the pistol back into his belt, whipped the pike back into a defensive position and then realised he was temporarily safe; the Seadragons had overwhelmed the enemy on this side of the ship and were slowly pushing them back.  The fighting was close and frantic and the mass of cordage and spars, as well as the spilt blood, made the footing treacherous.  John, spotting Tane hard-pressed against a huge man holding a knife and cutlass, dived back into the fray and delivering a strategic thrust under Tane's arm, took out the pirate and received a grateful nod from Tane. Having created a gap in the line by felling the huge man, they were both set upon by fresh opponents and for a while John was totally occupied, thrusting, parrying, dodging and feinting until his breath began to come in gasps.  John and Tane pressed forward until they came up against the remnants of the mainmast and were briefly sheltered from the battle. 

"You alright?" panted John.

Tane looked down at the blood on his thigh and side and nodded.  "Just scratches.  You?"

John hadn't registered any injuries during the frenzied fighting, but now he became aware of a burn across his chest and the trickle of blood into his right eyebrow.  He shrugged.  "I'm good." His eye was then caught by movement on the quarterdeck and it was as if time froze.  He saw in one horrified moment that seemed to last forever the black muzzle of a cannon pointed out over the deck and a sailor sliding a cylindrical object into the barrel.  A canister!  The spray of grapeshot would decimate friend and enemy alike!

Acting entirely on instinct and adrenaline, John hurtled toward the quarterdeck, rammed the point of his pike hard into the planking and leapt into the air, pole-vaulting over the railing and landing hard with his stomach against the gaping maw of the cannon.  In a desperate arc, he brought the pike swinging round to smash into the side of a pirate's head, felling him instantly, the smouldering slow-match dropping from the man's limp fingers. 

The other men, recovering from their surprise, came to life and John danced and swerved to avoid the blows of their weapons, trying to keep the cannon between him and his opponents and to knock over and stamp out the bucket of slow-matches that would mean the death of most of his crew.

He frantically swung the pike toward one man and threw the pistol to smack into the temple of another climbing over the cannon to get to him, but was nearly pulled off his feet when the pike was ripped from the grip of his sweat-slicked hand.  He drew out his knife but knew he couldn't last much longer.

Then Tane was next to him and the boy, Neshan, face bloody but grinning, and John, filled with renewed hope and energy, fought the few men remaining on the quarterdeck until the battle was finally won.

"Strike their colours, John!"  Tane pointed at the flag, emblazoned with a silver Wraith dart against a red ground.  John willingly hacked at the rope and the flag fell in a defeated heap to lie on the bloody deck.

oOo

The cry of, "All hands!  All hands, make sail!" brought men streaming up from the depths of the ship.  Many sported bandages or moved stiffly and the sails were set with less efficiency than usual, but they caught the wind and the Seadragon was once more underway.

It had taken a day to clear the decks of The Silver Flyer but now, with jury-rigged masts and a skeleton crew, she was ready to limp back to Erransport where the battered ship could be sold as salvage.  John watched the gap widening between the two ships and gave a cheery salute over the white-capped waves; the Bosun had been ordered to make up part of the scanty crew to help nurse the damaged ship back to port.