Port of Errors (25 page)

“Tie her to the mast,” ordered Black-Hearted, “where she can be easily seen.”

“Bones and Teach betrayed us, siding with the enemy,” blurted Scurvy. “They almost got me killed. I’ve already replaced Bones with Red Jack. He’ll make a fine quartermaster, he will. I’m sure Bones has told the good captain where to find us, by now. Stirvin’s got four large frigates and hundreds of men.”

“I knew those two were no good. Red Jack will serve you well.”

“Aye, he’s a good man and a gifted sailor.”

“Nothing else matters to me right now, but for Isabel’s safety. Stirvin will make a trade before firing on us. We’ll have to be in position by then.” Black-Hearted then shouted out the orders starting with Captain Garrison, who was also aboard the Rogue, “Keep Roger’s Jolly out of sight ‘til you hear the roar o’ the guns. Scurvy, ready your crew. Stephen, Gunner, position yourselves on the Weeping Lady. Everyone else, ready the cannons and salt the decks, there’s going to be blood tonight!”

As the Crimson Reef rushed toward Raven Bridges to meet her fate, Captain Stirvin stood expressionless and silent. The wind seemed to carry them above the water as they sailed smoothly across the ocean. The closer the English fleet came to Raven Bridges, the higher their adrenaline peaked. The crew grew feverish with excitement and no one spoke a word. The silence created a fearful mood.

As the sun arose to a blistering position in the sky, the men grew dry and hot. The reflection coming off the sea only added to the heat of the day. Sweating from both the elements and fear swelling within, the crew grew thirsty. Strict in discipline, the men had to ask permission to take a drink from their reserve. Upon gaining permission to take a drink from the reserve, a crewmember immediately spit it out again. “Salt!” he shouted. “The water’s been salted!”

Garland was confused and took a drink as well. Spitting out the mouthful of tainted water, Garland directed the crewmember to open a second barrel of water. Feeling the lid to be loose, he determined, “Someone has tampered with this barrel. The lid’s been undone and latched back on wrong.” Still confused and upset, Garland had all subsequent water barrels checked. They had all been tampered with and all had been salted.

Since Captain Stirvin did not resupply the ship, their ration of water was limited below deck. Scrambling to bring the last two barrels topside, each man’s portion was restricted to a much less than efficient amount than needed for battle under the hot sun. Moral on board quickly lowered.

Black-Hearted spotted the oncoming armada and immediately gave word to his men. Though, it was a bright and peaceful day, blood was going to be shed. There were a few clouds. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the seagulls were calling high above the Raven Bridges. The breeze was soft and calm, perfuming the air with a rich ocean fragrance. The Crimson Reef raced toward black-Hearted with great haste. Isabel was brought to the main deck where she could be seen. As the distance between the two fleets closed, there was no more room for fear. The time long awaited for the shedding of blood was finally at hand.

Within a short time they were finally face to face. The Rogue and the Crimson Reef sat port to port. The Weeping Lady was positioned on Black-Hearted’s Starboard side. The London and William’s Revenge were situated about twenty-five yards out, facing inward of Raven Bridges. Every heart pounded in anticipation of the battle. Captain Stirvin then looked upon Katherine, who was drenched in her own sweat and tears.

“Kate!” cried Captain Stirvin. “Kate, you’ll be home soon enough! I’ll shortly be following! I promise!”

“Isabel!” shouted Black-Hearted, “I’ll have you off that ship really soon!”

The exchange took place at the rear of each ship, one to the north and the other to the south. No one was to fire a shot until the woman were far enough away from the battle. Samuel Bellamy, a band new officer, volunteered to escort Katherine to Port Lorne, the closest dry land to Raven Bridges. Nathan Crapo, a worthy crewmember and pirate, was ordered to take Isabel to Port Lorne.

Waiting for what seemed like hours for the woman to be far enough away, Red Jack grew weary. “Let’s not procrastinate this further! Let every man stay his own fate! On with the battle, you fools!”

Captain Stirvin and Black-Hearted gave each other the nod.

“To your stations! Push forward the guns!” yelled Captain Stirvin.

The London and William’s Revenge began to sail forward, following the Sentry. Scurvy sailed out from behind the Rogue to meet them.

“Pistols!” shouted Black-Hearted. “Fire at will!”

Upon reverberation of that sole declaration, every man was consumed with the rage of war. The voices in command bellowed forth like a thunderous storm again and again in fierce repetition, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The rumble of each cannon shook the world around them. Pistols discharged at will, cracking and sparking spontaneously, like lightning amid a dark and stormy night. Clouds of smoke and ash filled the air. The day turned to night within minutes. The smoke was so thick that one could scarcely breathe. How could anyone live through such a barrage of steel rounds, profuse darkness and explosive power? It was amazing that every man wasn’t dead within the first five minutes.

The Crimson Reef was less than ten meters from the Rogue. Admiral Flynn and Captain’s Nokes, and Mac closed in from the north. Scurvy made his way around the Rogue to meet up with Admiral Flynn at the Eastern end of the battle. The Rogue, which was of equal size to a naval frigate, battled the Crimson Reef to the west and the London to the east. William’s Revenge was ordered to simply stand at the ready.
A fresh supply of men and a vessel untouched would be extremely valuable.

Black-Hearted positioned Darby O’Dell at the bow as a sniper, using a long barrel musket. He knelt and leaned over the forecastle wall. His eye was trained on Garland, who was situated on the upper deck of the Crimson Reef. “Come on, a little to the left,” he muttered, “A little more.” As Garland took a few steps to his left, a cannon suddenly came into view. It was aimed directly at Darby. The gunner held the match just above the fuse and smiled, knowing that Darby was now aware.

Fear suddenly struck Darby. He knew there was no way out. He accepted his fate and again centered his thoughts on the second mate, who was still in his sights and kept him there despite the deadly threat before him. The gunner promptly touched the match to the fuse, but Darby smiled, as the second mate took an unfortunate step back, right into Darby’s ideal view. He quickly fired at precisely the same time the cannon exploded. The explosion echoed deep within Darby’s ear. He tagged Garland in the chest, dead center. He stumbled backward, but managed to stay on his feet. Ready to die, Darby closed his eyes with that same smile, knowing he’d done his duty. Immediately, the forecastle wall burst into splinters. Darby’s body ripped apart on impact. He felt nothing. What was left of his body just flapped wildly about over the starboard side and into the water.

Garland stood there, holding his chest in disbelief as he staggered backward. Yet faint, he managed to pull out a second pistol. Black-Hearted looked over, but it was too late. Garland took aim and pulled the trigger, staggering off balance in the act. The bullet buried itself forcefully into Black-Hearted’s right shoulder. Black-Hearted twisted slightly at the waste but quickly sprang back with his pistol extended forward. Without taking aim, he fired back. It was a fatal shot to the Garland’s neck. His Adam’s apple erupted into a bloody explosion, spraying out in a gruesome mess. Still standing, he panted for air, squeezing the mortal wound. But to his failing attempt, he was dead before he hit the deck.

“Back to the devil with you!” yelled black-hearted.

Kenneth could do nothing as he sat in his cell, contemplating his narrow odds of ever seeing his Marisa again. Every blow to the ship’s hull shook the framework so hard that he could not seem to stay on his feet. He stumbled around the cell each time the ship took a hit, spraying him with specks of splintered dust. Kenneth covered his eyes with one arm, while at the same time trying to brace himself.

In complete contrast, Alfonso Rubio, still in the next cell, somehow slept soundly, snoring like a pig.

“Hearted!” yelled Eric, observing Mr. Black taking aim. “Hearted!” he shouted again. Black-Hearted could not hear him through the booming sound of battle. “Hearted!” continued Eric, as he approached the quarterdeck. Mr. Black had an unobstructed view and Eric knew it. Cocking his musket, Mr. Black fired, striking Black-Hearted in his cheek. Black-Hearted’s head flung to the side. He grabbed his face and doubled over. Assuming that Black-Hearted would finally fall, Mr. Black stood tall. “I did it! He’s shot! I hit him!”

“No!” shouted Eric, as he continued to run toward Black-Hearted, pushing a few men out of his way as they fought. He climbed up to the quarterdeck with two pistols cocked and ready. The bullet had only scratched his skin, mouth to ear.

“You’re a dead man!” cried Black-Hearted at Mr. Black.

Captain Stirvin looked toward Black-Hearted, pulling two pistols from his belt. Just then Eric jumped through the air, aiming high toward Mr. Black, who was forced to throw his empty musket to the deck and reach for his pistol. Captain Stirvin pushed Mr. Black out of the way, as Eric slammed into Black-Hearted, while taking his shot. Black-Hearted unloaded his second weapon but missed his target when Eric accidently pushed into him. Eric’s steel ball hit Captain Stirvin’s right arm, but not before Captain Stirvin let off a single round at Eric, who slipped to his knees.

Concerned, he asked Black-Hearted, “Are you hit?”

“He missed!” Grunted Black-Hearted, shaking off the effects of Eric’s lifesaving blow.

“Good!” stated Eric, “Then it wasn’t for nothin’.” Black-Hearted looked over , confused, and witnessed Eric taking his last breath as his eyes rolled over white. His body gave in and slammed to the deck, dead.

“No!” yelled Black-Hearted, throwing his empty pistols to the deck and pulling two ready and loaded from his brace of six vested over his broad chest, aiming at both Benjamin and Captain Stirvin.

Black-Hearted shouted, “You’ll not live another day!”

Captain Stirvin jumped out of the way, as Black-Hearted discharged both pistols. However, Mr. Black was struck in the neck and fell helpless to the deck. His eyes filled with fear, as his life slowly slipped away.

“No, Ben!” cried Captain Stirvin, “No!” He stood up, glaring at Black-Hearted. Black-Hearted stared back. But neither man had a loaded weapon.

One of the powder monkeys, about eleven years of age, sat just beneath Captain Stirvin, below the gunwale where Black-Hearted could not see him. The boy nervously shook, as he loaded a single barrel pistol. He threw the pistol up toward Captain Stirvin, who then took aim and fired. But, Black-Hearted was suddenly shaken off his feet and thrown back by a booming explosion. Three men were violently hurled through the air and landed several feet from where they stood. The explosion sent Black-Hearted over the quarterdeck railing and onto the main deck, landing face down and unconscious.

All the while, Katherine and Isabel drifted toward Port Lorne. Still shaken from the intensity of the situation, they could hear the rumbling sound of cannons echoing across the sea. Katherine wept. Both women could see each other through the short distance between them.

The battle had barely commenced and Roger’s Jolly was still on the other side of the small island. Captain Garrison ordered his crew, “Hoist the mainsail! Ready for battle!” His crew cheered on as they weighed anchor, listening anxiously to the cry of war at the other side of Raven Bridges.

The Sentry was situated on Scurvy’s portside. William’s Revenge was called into the fight, coming around to his starboard side. Red Jack, Scurvy’s new quartermaster, confirmed what every man aboard the Weeping Lady was thinking. “A schooner against two frigates is not an ideal match! Aye, they don’t stand a chance and no quarter be givin’n!”

Scurvy kept the Weeping Lady moving to avoid any direct broadsides.

Roger’s Jolly finally made it around the corner. Breaking through the surrounding wall of smoke, Roger’s Jolly was an unexpected wrench in Captain Stirvin’s stand. The day had grown suddenly dark with all the smoke and the ash lightly blanketed most everything. As he approached the engaging vessels, Captain Garrison could see several fires on most of the ships, including a small fire at the bow of the Crimson Reef.

In all the shadow and confusion aboard the Crimson Reef, it was not noticed that the salt barrel lids had been loosened and the salt far from white. As someone threw the first bucket of black salt onto the flames at the bow, they realized it was gunpowder when the explosion sent several men into the sea and across the forecastle deck. A plume of black and grey smoke burst into the air. Finding the other two barrel’s labeled
salt
, carrying black power instead, Captain Stirvin ordered his men to bring up the few remaining barrels of salt from the bilge and to put out the flames.

“Ready the cannons,” yelled Captain Garrison, “Pistols, too, men.”

The Weeping Lady and Roger’s Jolly attacked the Sentry from opposite sides. They steered so close and they were so much smaller, that the Sentry could not take fair aim upon them, landing their cannon blasts over and beyond the target. Soon, Roger’s Jolly saw fit to toss their grappling lines to the Sentry’s portside gunwales. As the men ascended, Admiral Flynn’s crew fired upon them with a hail of bullets, killing several and wounding many more. But this did not stop them from boarding. Stephen and Gunner were almost at the top. Just behind Captain Garrison, Stephen was clipped in the ear by a grazing bullet, causing him to lose his grip for a second. But he continued his ascent behind Gunner, who helped him to the main deck.