"You're going to attack that ship?" I ask, not having heeded the captain's orders and still standing by his side at the wheel. After hearing Butler in the crow's nest ring the ship's bell, the rest of the crew is now clamoring around us .
"Attack, capture, and rob. That's correct," he says. "Now, get out of the way before you get hurt. We're gaining on them quickly. With any luck, they won't notice us until we're on top of them. The Dutch put up a good fight, so lock yourself in and wait for me."
Kincade ushers me toward the steps and stands at the top until I start to descend onto the main deck. "Henry! Bring my gear." He turns away as the well-dressed boy from earlier emerges from the navigation room with the missing jacket and weapons.
While the captain is busy getting dressed, I take the opportunity to slip around the exterior of the cabin into a nook that's out of view from the quarterdeck. We're still miles away from the other ship, and even if I only stick around for the prelude, this may be the most action I'll ever get to see. I'm not going to waste any of it hiding in my room.
"Correct course, Mister Till and full speed ahead," Kincade bellows from above, no doubt assuming that I'm now safely stowed within the cabin.
"Full speed ahead," the sailing master loudly repeatsthe order for everyone else to hear.
The excitement is palpable, and the men know their roles well. Apart from a few, key commands, they need no instructions, but rather go about their preparations.
Just like this afternoon, three men climb the masts and unfurl the canvas pieces to their full capacity. Their partners below adjust the sails' angles to maximize the wind captured while maintaining the right course. They expertly tie off the ropes with complex knots before running to the next task.
Other men open the porthole shutters and roll the cannons to their ready position. Disappearing below, they emerge with the accompanying metal balls, struggling against their weight. The men drop the round, black objects on the deck with a thunk before making a tidy pyramid at the base of each cannon. The sailors then proceed to roll out small barrels I assume contain the powder and place those nearby, as well.
The big, African man they call Femi brings topside a large bundle wrapped in burlap. Laying it on a crate, he unwraps it to reveal more than a dozen different weapons. The men clamor around the forged iron implements of death like children with new toys. They each choose their favorite from amongst the swords, axes, and pikes. They test out the feel of the wooden shafts in their hands and grin. Retreating to their stations scattered around the deck, I see them checking their personal pistols and knives before tucking them safely in their belts.
Finally, the crew snuff out all but a few of the lanterns, leaving the ship in an eerie darkness. The light of the moon is no longer useful because of the increasing number of dark clouds overhead. I can only tell the navigators are taking measurements of our speed when a clear voice echoes into the silence. He counts up until finally reaching twelve.
"Very good," I hear the captain say. He must still be on the platform above me, waiting out the attack's commencement. While he's under the impression that I'm safely tucked away in the cabin, everyone who can see me continues to ignore me. Right now, I'm completely fine with this.
The anticipation makes my heart beat faster, and I'm already regretting the moment when I will have to take cover. Until then, I enjoy the salty smell of the cool air billowing around me, with not much more than the sound of the vessel cutting through the waves. Closing my eyes, I let the experience lull my nerves.
I don't realize until it's too late that Kincade's cabin boy Henry is standing in front of me.
When I open my eyes, I jump from my crouched position at the unexpected sight. The lad, however, smiles and places one finger against his lips.
He's not going to tell the captain on me!
I smile back before he hands me a silver dagger. I take the light, sleek object and turn it in my hand. Although its hilt—covered in small, red stones interlaced with golden filigree—makes it a beautiful piece of art, the sharp, double-edged blade shows that it was meant to inflict serious damage.
"Thank you," I mouth to the boy who promptly scurries away. I certainly hope I won't have to use it, but having the weapon gives me a slight reassurance. Following the men's example, I tuck it into my leather belt and continue to wait.
We're still sailing ahead at a great speed, and I can now make out a silhouette in the distance getting bigger by the moment. It has to be the Dutch ship, and I begin to wonder about the captain's strategy. I have no knowledge of naval tactics, but he did say we're using the element of surprise. I'm assuming this means we'll sail up on them beforethey even know it. Under the cover of darkness, we'll most likely fire the cannons and disable their primary means of offense.
The more I think about it, the worse this plan seems. Taking out the Dutch cannons would severely damage their ship, thereby decreasing the bounty's value. If I had the choice, I'd try to get close enough for my men to board and bet on their hand-to-hand combat skills to take victory. Either way, there will be a potential loss of life, and I'm glad the battle plan's not my decision.
Until now, we've been approaching the vessel from directly behind. Suddenly, the wind puffs out the sails at a new angle, and our course changes. The captain must have silently instructed Taylor, the helmsman, to make the correction. From the looks of things, it's now taking us on a more parallel course to the Dutch.
I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't know what it is, but something doesn't feel right. From our current position, I can now see that the lanterns on the target ship are all lit. Although there isn't any activity above deck—no sailors taking a late night toilet break or just a breather to stretch their legs—we can't be sure they haven't seen us coming. In a few seconds, we'll be directly across from the enemy's cannons.
What if Luciana was here in my place, I wonder? Nodoubt she would have stayed in her room, locked away. She may have eveninsisted on extra men standing outside her door to keep her safe. Instead, shecould very well be dead right now, suffocated from the smoke or burned by the fire.And here I am risking my own life—saved thanks to impersonating her—just to geta glimpse of adventure.
I take a deep breath. The captain—if he is indeed the Pirate King—is supposedly a seasoned veteran famous for his military prowess. Surely he knows what he needs to do to win the battle. This is no time to panic. Everything will be well soon enough.
I'm starting to feel more confident again whenmultiple, fiery explosions appear on the side of the Dutch vessel. Shudderingat the thunderous sound of three sequential booms, I wait for impact. By somemiracle, however, the cannons miss their mark. The projectiles splash into theocean, both in front of and just short of our ship.
They overestimated our speed!
The men jump to their feet, even before the captain shouts his next order. "Bear down and release the kedge! Prepare to fire!"
Whatever those instructions mean, our vessel responds by tilting right and slowing down. Soon, a splash from the stern results in an even more abrupt decrease inspeed, as the bow pivots toward the side of the enemy ship.
"Fire in the hole!" A blast from one of our own cannons comes after the warning. Four or five identical alerts and explosions follow it, sending wooden splinters from the other vessel flying into the air.
The acrid smell of burnt powder—along with the billowing gray smoke drifting along the deck—choke me. I cover my nose with my hand and hold back my coughs.
We're now almost perpendicular to the other ship, but it's still travelling forward. Within a few seconds, it'll be out of our way. Although the preceding blast took out most of its cannons, there may be a few toward its stern that are still operable.
We've most likely dropped anchor to be able to stop so quickly. The Dutch could easily turn around, using this against us. They're so close that I can make out the menacing expressions on their faces. Unlike the men on our ship, the Dutch look like proper soldiers wearing matching uniforms. In spite of the damage to their hull, they're lined up on deck in an orderly fashion, patiently waiting to defend themselves.
Something about this still doesn't seem right. I draw out the dagger, and my hand shakes uncontrollably at the thought of being immobile against an approaching army. For some reason, instead of pulling away, the side of the other ship is getting closer to our bow.
We're still moving. Perhapsthe captain does know what he's doing.
Another shot leaves the Dutch ship, and it hits our port side almost point-blank. The entire ship shakes, but I'm not sure if it's from the blast or from our bow finally ramming the enemy vessel. Our men are prepared for contact and they begin tossing hooks tied to long ropes over the rails, tethering the two ships together. Almost immediately, smaller shots from pistols ring out and my knees go weak.
The battle has truly started.
I must get to my room, but my feet just won't move. Pressing my body against the wall, I peek around the exterior of the cabin. It looks like most of the fight is on the other vessel. I can see Femi using his pike to hold off a Dutchman. By his side, Petey's having a harder time wielding his short sword.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Dear God, please protect them so they can protect me.
When I lift my lids, Petey has disappeared, Femi's almost mid-ship, and the Dutch have advanced. My breathing accelerates, but I still can't seem toget enough air to fill my lungs.
If the Dutch win, they'll declare all survivors pirates, including me. There would be nothing I could say to save me from the gallows. Even if they did believe that I'm Luciana Mercado, the knowledge I'm related to a Spanish Admiral—a long-standing adversary to the Dutch—would do more harm than good.
As I watch the bloody hand-to-hand combat, a new wave of our pirate crew charge ahead, putting a wall of bodies between me and the enemy.
Thank heav—
"Wie hebben we hier?" Someone pushes a blade against my back, and I freeze. Slowly turning my head, I put up my empty hand and do my best to conceal the dagger in the other.
The man's eyes dart up and down, quickly surveying every inch of me. "Goed. Goed." He nods and smiles.
His crazed look sends a shiver up my spine, and I squeeze the hilt of my dagger so hard it hurts my palm. If I'm going to act, I can't delay. Taking a big breath, I count down.
Three, two, on—
I don't get a chance to finish because a blade suddenly emerges from the Dutchman's belly. His eyes widen, and the expression on his face changes from delight to horror. The weapon withdraws as quickly as it went in, and the man clutches his stomach. In the darkness, there's no sign of injury until blood oozes from between his fingers and stains his formerly pristine, white trousers.
The wound will kill him within minutes, but I don't dwell on his fate as his attacker pushes the Dutchman to the ground.
"What are you still doing up here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Captain Kincade yells at me above the growing melee. He doesn't let me answer and instead grabs me by the arm, squeezing my flesh against the bone. I grit my teeth, but don't dare make a sound because I know he's right.
Leading me toward the cabin, he parries off an attacker before opening the hallway door and pushing me inside. "Lock yourself in," he instructs before slamming the door in my face.
I waste no time and run to my room. As I enter, I hear Kincade in the hallway again. "Wait. Take him. You could use a man's help."
I turn to face the captain, but he promptly retreats again, leaving Henry behind.
The boy runs toward me, and I scoff. "A man . . . ha! How old are you anyway?"
"I'll be thirteen next week, miss," he answers enthusiastically, right before the clang of swords erupts outside.
I pull him by the jacket, and we lock ourselves in the room. Testing the only thing standing between us and potential death, I turn the knob and pull on it, as well. Although the door seems solid, it rattles in its casing.
"This won't do," I observe, looking around the room for something useful. "Come," I motion toward Henry, who follows me to the bed. I bend my knees and grab the bottom of the frame, but even by lifting with all of my strength, it doesn't budge.
Shaking my head, I point toward the chest. "Let's try that."
He looks perplexed at the suggestion, and when Iattempt to also move this piece of furniture, I realize why. Everything on theship is securely fastened, as it should be.
The commotion outside the room is getting increasingly louder, and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before our pursuers reach us. They'll soon break down the door into kindling and then the best we can hope for is that they'll take us prisoner. Even that will only buy us a few days, so it's not much better than dying right now. I'm not ready for either, so I run around the room frantically looking for something—anything—to get us out of this mess.
Stopping at the windows, I get an idea. It's a long-shot, but right now, it may be the only chance we have. I look for the handle to open the pane on the end, but it doesn't have one. I move to the next window, but that also can't be opened. I find success at the third. I didn't realize it earlier, but it looks like out of the six panes only the two middle ones can be cranked open.
This'll make my plan much harder to carry out, but the banging on the door encourages me to hurry. I twist the handle until the window moves as far outward as it can and I turn toward Henry.
"Hop on up, lad." I point behind me.
He shakes his head.
I shrug my shoulders. "Fine, I'll go first. Give my regards to the Dutch."
"Very well. I'm going." He puts a foot on a beam lining the wall and pulls himself halfway out the window. "Now what?"
"You're going to have to climb out on that ledge and scoot all the way over to the end. The balusters create a nook that'll keep you from falling off."
"Only if I don't slip off before getting to them," he says over his shoulder.
"Well, make sure you hang onto something then." I don't want to scare him even more than the prospect of plummeting into the ocean, so I try to sound playful. My heart, however, is probably beating twice its usual rate because I'm definitely not feeling confident.
Henry climbs over the window sill onto the narrow wooden ledge outside. I watch helplessly as he sits with his legs over the edge and inches toward the left. I close the window after him and open the one next to it. Following his lead, I manage to get on the ledge and—after pulling that pane closed, as well—head to the right side.
I settle into the nook just in time, seconds before we hear the cabin's door slam open.
They're in the room.
We can't see inside any more, but we do hear the men. They're turning over furniture while yelling to each other in Dutch. I pull my knees to my chest and hug tight, trying to make myself as small as possible. I'm certain they'll open the window any moment and find us.
For some unknown reason, they never do. And then we wait. And wait. And wait some more. My breathing eventually returns to normal, and I even stretch my legs. I can see Henry doing the same, and I wave. He smiles and gives me a thumbs-up.
Eventually he falls asleep, but I don't dare shut my eyes. My spot is barely enough to hold me and I'm afraid if I lose focus, I'll tumble into the water below. I also need to keep watch over Henry to make sure he doesn't shift too much in his sleep. As the sun begins to rise over the horizon, the tell-tale sounds of a fight—yells, grunts, and the sharp clang of metal on metal—gradually fade. I'm starting to consider whether to climb back into the room and try our luck, when a window opens, and Smythe pokes his head out.
Thank the Lord, Captain Kincade has emerged victorious.
The old man helps us inside and confirms Kincade is one ship—and an unknown cargo—richer. Unfortunately, it's come at a steep price. Half the men on both sides are either injured or dead, leaving the captain with no choice, but to return to port.