Chapter 17

 

Frederick had spotted the oncoming ships before the lookout shouted the warning. More like sensed them. He’d been able to sense enemies at sea ever since he first sailed with his parents. His father had told him he had a unique gift of discernment and had called Frederick his “little seer.” The memory brought a smile to his face, but it instantly faded when he realized he’d taken that gift and lived a life of debauchery. Guilt prickled down his back, and excusing himself from Michael, he sheathed his sword and made his way up the quarterdeck to Reena. Would his past ever leave him be?

“French,” Frederick said as he took a stance beside Reena and Abraham.

“By Neptune's blood, how do you know that?” Reena leveled the scope once again on the intruders and brought them into focus.

“He's right.” Abraham lowered his spyglass and slapped it against his palm. “Dey be frogs.”

Reena flattened her lips. “What do they want?”

“We are at war with France, in case you don't remember,” Frederick offered. “Any ship, merchant, naval, or privateer is a target.” Then marching forward, he gripped the railing and glanced at the main deck below where the crew was amassing, staring at the oncoming ships.

“Beat to quarters! Ready the guns!” Frederick addressed the last command to Jo, who was still talking with Brodie by the starboard railing. She glanced up at him with a nod and brayed a string of orders for her gun crew to assemble around the guns fore and aft and the ones below deck.

When he turned around, he found Reena staring at him, and he realized what he’d done. “I apologize, Captain. Old habits.”

But instead of chastising him for taking command, she smiled, though he thought he saw her bristle slightly. “I made you co-captain. You have every right.”

The men swarmed across deck like flies scattered by a whip. Turning, he studied the ships, longing to take the spyglass from Reena, but she raised it to her eye again.

“Extinguish the galley fire!” she shouted, then she turned to Fletcher at the tiller.

“Wear round to a starboard tack. And watch your luff! Let’s see if we can outrun these frogs.” She nodded to Abraham, and he ordered the topmen as Fletcher veered to starboard.

Itching to issue further commands, Frederick went to assist the gun crew, hoping to keep from infringing on Reena’s authority. He’d never been good at standing down, but his time aboard HMS Viper had taught him to keep his thoughts to himself and his mouth shut. Most of the time.

He made his way to a five-pounder positioned on the larboard quarter of the brig around which a gun crew furiously worked. Michael sped by, depositing shot and powder cartridges for the guns. He offered Frederick a smile before he sped on his way. But the crew didn’t need Frederick’s help. In truth, they were doing exactly as they should. Why should he expect any less? Reena had told him Jo was an excellent master gunner who had trained her crew well.

The brig made a sharp turn. Sails floundered, seeking new wind. Finally, they glutted themselves with a fresh breeze, snapping to attention. The deck canted, and Frederick balanced himself as he passed by the other guns, ensuring each was primed, loaded, and ready to fire should a battle ensue. He hoped not. Especially not against two French warships, which—as he glanced their way—appeared to be better gunned than the Reckless. At least the larger one.

Even if they weren't, they'd have the advantage of maneuverability with two of them. Reena was good in battle. She’d inherited both the wits and skill of her father and her mother. But none of that would matter if either of these two captains possessed any skill at all.

Halting, Frederick gripped the railing and closed his eyes for a moment. What was he thinking? He must remember God was on their side, and that nothing happened without His permission. At least for those who truly followed Him. He offered a silent prayer, then continued onward.

With every stitch of canvas stretched to the wind, the Reckless shouldered the sea high and wide, leaping over rollers as if she owned the Caribbean. The brig creaked and groaned and heaved, laughing in delight as the sea charged against the hull and came flying over the bow, sending spray over the deck in glittering rainbows. Frederick halted at the prow, allowing the wind to blast over him, drowning out all sound, save the mad dash of the sea. Before him, the Caribbean spread out like a turquoise jewel, studded with diamonds.

In truth, he had missed this—the exhilaration of impending battle, the chase, with the sea his footstool and the sky his limit. And he hated himself for it.

The sound of Jo’s commands spun him around to see her barking at one of the men assisting with a swivel at the bow. The rest of the sailors who weren’t in the tops adjusting sail were arming themselves with swords, axes, and pistols.

Making his way to the main deck, he glanced up at Reena, her feet spread on the heaving planks, wind tossing her hair behind her, her chin raised as though she hadn't a care in the world. She was a pillar of strength, oscillating between gazing at the oncoming enemy through her scope and giving orders to Abraham to adjust sail in order to get the most speed out of the brig.

Frederick was impressed. ’Twas no wonder she and her crew had garnered a reputation across the West Indies, along with much treasure.

What an incredible woman. Father, if only she belonged to You, I would marry her on the spot. Thunderation, where had that come from?

The brig struck a wave and took flight. Frederick clung to the capstan as a sailor tumbled across the deck in front of him. Extending his hand, he assisted him up, then made his way to the larboard railing and studied the ships fast on their tail. No need for a spyglass to see them now. One was a smaller ship—a two-masted sloop, from the looks of it—and the other was at least a 40-gun frigate. Reckless could outrun the frigate, but not the sloop. Problem was, the smaller craft would engage them first, and they’d be forced to slow down to return fire, which would allow the more heavily armed frigate to catch up. ’Twas a tactic used by the French. And quite an effective one.

When he leapt on the quarterdeck, he could see in Reena’s eyes that she’d reached the same conclusion.

“Dey within firin’ range, Cap’n, an’ comin’ across our stern!” Abraham shouted over the wind.

“Recommendations, Captain Carlton?” she asked.

“Pray.” No sooner did the word leave his mouth then the thunderous boom of a cannon pounded the air.

 

♥♥♥

 

“All hands down!” Reena shouted, fully intending to remain upright as a captain should, but Freddy forced her to the deck and covered her with his body—a shield of warmth and love that caused her heart to swell.

She pushed him aside. “Let me up. I’m the captain.”

“So am I, and I’m not about to let you get blown to bits.” He leapt to his feet, scanned the situation, and added, “It fell into the sea off the port side. Too close.”

Reena rose and glanced at the advancing sloop, white smoke curling from the swivel at her prow. Another shot would certainly hit them dead on. She was about to issue orders to veer to larboard and bring all her guns to bear when Freddy shouted the exact same commands. She didn't have time to argue who was in command during battle. And in truth, she was glad to have him by her side. Yet, she added a few of her own orders, lest her crew find her weak.

“Reduce to battle sails! Mizzen and Sprit!”

The buccaneers sprang to the ratlines as the Reckless veered to larboard, slanting the deck between sky and sea. Foamy claws reached over the railing, and for a moment, it seemed they would capsize. But then the sails snapped and the brig eased back down.

Their larboard guns were now aimed at the oncoming sloop.

Reena leapt down the quarterdeck ladder to the main deck, glanced quickly at the position of the sloop, then turned to Jo. “Fire as you bear!”

“Fire as you bear!” the master gunner repeated.

The cannons belched black smoke and ricocheted backward from the force of the blast, sending the air aquiver with their thunder. Smoke stung Reena’s nose. Coughing, she batted it away, peering through the fog. Their shots had done minimal damage.

“Bilge water!”

Flames shot into the sky from the sloop’s guns. Boom! Boom! Boom! pulsated over the waves.

“Hit the deck!” Abraham shouted.

This time, Freddy was not nearby. Hence, she remained standing, defying all odds, waiting to see where the blasts would hit. One shot shivered main and mizzen topsails. The other went whistling through the shrouds, slicing the mainmast. The third struck the railing, firing splinters in every direction. Screams filled the air from sailors pierced by the flying spears.

She turned to look for Abraham, but he was climbing up the shrouds to assist sailors with a tangled line. “Helm, hard to starboard!” she shouted, not wanting to give the sloop another chance to broadside her. “Bellamy, James,” she gestured to two men. “Take the injured below to Brodie.” They stared at her for a moment, wide eyes lowering to her side. “Now!” she bellowed, and they scrambled to do her bidding.

Something warm saturated her waistcoat. The sky spun. The brig bolted over a wave, and she stumbled to grip the railing.

“Reena!” Freddy appeared in her vision. He gripped her shoulders and called to Sedley for help.

Reena glanced down to see blood bubbling around a large splinter stuck in her side.

“Take her below, Sedley.”

“Nay!” Reena gripped the splinter and yanked it out, barely feeling the pain. Then reaching up, she ripped Sedley’s neckerchief from his neck.

“I will not abandon my crew during battle!” She stuffed the cloth beneath her shirt. Then yanking off her bandanna, she tied it around the wound. Tight. “I’m all right.” Blinking back stars, she nodded at Freddy. “Really.”

He growled, but another gun exploded with a mighty roar, and he swerved to assess its aim. Holding her side, Reena climbed the ladder and once again took her spot at the quarterdeck. The shot fell impotently in the sea two yards from the Reckless. Freddy glanced her way and she gave him a nod she hoped he understood.

He did. He took command, firing orders fore and aft, sending her crew up ratlines and over the deck to assist the gunners.

The sloop made a quick tack and was coming up on their stern, no doubt intending to rake them—a bloody prospect that would kill many and cripple their sails.

She opened her mouth to issue commands, but nothing came out. Instead, she leaned against the railing and blinked back the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

“Hard to starboard! Stern chasers, prepare to fire!” Freddy continued shouting commands as the ship canted, and her sails flapped before catching the wind yet again.

“Fire!” The stern chasers exploded, sweeping the sloop with deadly shot just as a volcano of cannons returned fire. But the Reckless had tacked just in time and only one shot struck the stern railing.

Frederick marched across the deck, leapt onto the bulwarks, grabbed the backstay, and leaned into the wind as he studied their enemy. His hair splayed around him in wild abandon, his shirt flapped in the wind, his jaw was firm, his eyes steely. This was the Freddy she knew. In command. One of the best pirate captains she’d ever seen. This was what he was made for, his destiny, despite what his God said.

Leaping from the bulwarks, he spit out a string of commands that turned the brig, adjusted the sails to the perfect position, and reloaded and aimed the guns at the sloop for a damaging broadside. Brilliant. If they could only cripple the tiny menace, they may have time to escape the frigate.

The sloop floundered to catch the wind, Freddy expertly lined up the broadside and eased the Reckless across the sloop’s port side.

“Fire!” He shouted at the perfect downswing of a wave. Five culverines vomited fire and fury upon the sloop, barreling back a good two feet against the straining ropes of the tackle. The Reckless shook from stem to stern as gray smoke flooded the deck. Coughing, sailors swatted it away, anxious for a look at the damage they’d inflicted. A charred and gaping hole smoked from the sloop’s bulwarks, her foremast was shattered, and fragments of yards hung to the deck.

“Huzzahs” flung into the air.

Reena smiled. He’d done it. Freddy had done it!

But the cheering slowly faded, and Reena dragged her gaze to the horizon.

The frigate was coming up on their starboard quarter…slowly…methodically—the dark muzzles of twenty guns poking through their hull like the hissing tongues of a snake. They had taken too long to cripple the sloop and now were in gun range of this monster. One command from their captain would pulverize the Reckless and sink them to the depths. Reena pressed her bloody side and leaned on the railing. What was he waiting for?

No doubt assessing the futility of an engagement, Freddy mounted the quarterdeck and reached for her. She pushed him away. She could not accept she was about to lose her brig once again. And to the French!

The frigate eased beside them, hull to hull, and a man sporting a blue-plumed hat appeared on their deck. He lifted a speaking cone to his mouth. “Reckless, you will be given quarter if you lay down your arms and surrender.”

Rage boiled deep within Reena’s belly, along with fear, hatred, and despair. She knew that voice!

“'Tis Antoine du Casse. He wants his treasure back.”

Freddy gripped the hilt of the sword. “I believe he wants more than that. Revenge is my guess, which does not bode well for us.”

Reena fisted hands at her waist. She could not lose to that thumb-sucking coxswain. She could not. There had to be a way out of this. She glanced at the frigate ready to loose a broadside that would send them all to hell. Save for Freddy, of course. She punched the railing. Pain throbbed through her hand, matching the one in her side. She had lost this battle. Her first one. Nay, she would not lose! There must be a way…

Freddy clutched her hand and gave it a squeeze of consolation.

She tugged it back.

“Reena, I know that look.” His brow rose above narrowed eyes. “You're a great captain, but part of being a great captain is knowing when you've lost. You’re injured. To fight now would be certain death.”

“I would rather die fighting than hang from that Frenchman’s yardarm.”

“Nay, he would've already blown us to the depths if that was his goal. He wants something.”

“His treasure an’ yer ship,” Abraham offered as if they were discussing what to have for dinner.

“Well, he’s not going to get either!” Reena drew her blade.

Freddy shook his head, and she knew he was right. “Let's find out what he wants first.”

“Mademoiselle Pirate.” The taunting voice made her want to fire on him no matter the cost. She glared his way, could make him out now, all feather and lace standing there with one hand on his hip. “By now you know ’tis me, ma chérie. I wish you no harm. I wish merely to have a parlay. Raise your flag of surrender, and I'll send a boat for you.”

“Bilge water! A parlay?” Reena had never surrendered to anyone. But as always, Freddy was the voice of reason. His calm, rational thinking had saved her life on many occasions when she had wanted to charge, guns blazing, into a situation where she would have surely been killed. Besides, she didn't want Freddy to die. She turned to Abraham who looked at her with the sorrow she was feeling inside. “Raise the white flag.”

And so, white flag flapping from the masthead, the great pirate Reena Hyde affected her first surrender. Within minutes, a boat was lowered from the frigate and rowed toward them, and despite Freddy’s insistence she stay on board the Reckless and have her wound tended, Reena refused. Antoine had requested her presence, and she would not appear weak in front of her enemy.

Hence, while she and Freddy waited to depart, Brodie tended her wound—which he proclaimed was shallow—and bandaged it up as best he could. “I wull hae to examine it later.”

She thanked him. “Tend to the rest of the wounded, if you please.”

Michael darted toward her, an unusual light in his eyes and a peaceful look on his face. “You’ll come back, Captain Reena. You’ll come back. That man will not hurt you. I know it.” He lifted his hand and briefly touched her side where she’d been wounded, as if he could take her pain away.

Ah, the foolishness of innocence. She cupped his chin and smiled. “Until I do, take care of Abraham, will you?” She looked up at the large man. “You have the helm.”

He gave her a quick nod of assurance.

Jo glared at the French frigate. “We should ’ave fought ’em, Cap’n.”

Regret swamped Reena, along with guilt, for she had wanted to fight with all she had. “You did excellent work, Jo. And your crew.”

“Wha’ I want t’ know,” Abraham said, glaring at the frigate. “Is how he found us. How did he know where we be?”

“Good question.” Freddy huffed. “’Tis too large a sea to be a coincidence.”

Reena had wondered the same thing. She scanned her crew, noting Sedley fidgeting as usual over by the capstan. The rest of the men looked as if they’d been sentenced to death.

She opened her mouth to address them, wanting to encourage them, but her words would not come.

Freddy stepped before her. “This is not over. We shall return to fight another day. Stand your ground, men.”

This caused a surge of “ayes” and “huzzah” from the pirates. Reena was glad for Freddy's confident tone, for she doubted she could express such hope at the moment. In truth, as she climbed down the rope ladder and took a spot in the boat where ten of Antoine's armed sailors waited, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever set foot on the Reckless again, or if Antoine would have them both executed on the spot.