Bring It Close by Helen Hollick

opening it to full length, returned to the rail. Cursing under his breath he scanned the ocean ahead; where was she? Ah! There! He had her!
    “Aye, it’s her,” he announced. “Crammin’ enough sail on, ain’t they? Why’re they in such a hurry?”
    “Who? Tell me. What are you talking about?”
    Staring steadfast through the glass, Jesamiah was studying the vessel miles ahead. Did not even hear Alicia. Frowned as he saw the ship’s sails haul round. “She’s veering towards the coast. Whatever for? We’re well past Charleston.”
    “Who?” Alicia persisted, impatience riddling her tone. “What ship?”
    Witheringly Jesamiah stared at her. “What d’you bloody think? The Fortune of Virginia of course. I’m tryin’ t’catch up with my woman.”
    Alicia’s face fell. She had not bargained on this. “But we are heading direct for Virginia, are we not? The Chesapeake?”
    “Not yet we ain’t. We catch up with the Fortune first, see my Tiola safely delivered to Bath Town, and then we go to Virginia.” He chuckled, “Delivered for a delivery.” He nudged her ribs, “Get it?”
    Her answering smile was none too sweet; it took a great effort not to stamp her foot in obdurate frustration.
    “On deck! There’s another sail! Coming out that patch of mist!”
    Jesamiah raised the telescope again, could see nothing.
    “Wait…aye Cap’n, thought so. There’s two of ‘em runnin’ in consort.”
    Not liking the sound of that, Jesamiah slammed the glass shut, thrust it through his belt and jumping down the ladder into the waist, grabbed hold of the mainmast shrouds and began to climb, aware his crew were watching him critically. The jests about the easy life of a captain had not escaped his attention; here was a chance to prove he was as fit and agile as any one of the swabs.
    Refraining from taking the easy route through the lubbers’ hole, he made the more difficult outward climb up the futtock shrouds, even though he was breathing hard. There were bound to be several wagers being laid on how far he would get without stopping. The men thought nothing of clambering from the lowest depth of the hold to the height of the main truck without pause.
    Panting heavily he reached the masthead and settled himself to point the telescope at the blue sweep of the ocean.
    “Not one word, Skylark,” he growled when he had caught his breath. “I’m as fit as any of you.”
    Joseph Meadows had moved aside to allow his captain room, was sitting five feet away astride the yard. They called him ‘Skylark’ on account of his fine singing voice, his liking of spending hours alone on lookout, and his surname.
    “M’lips are sealed, Cap’n.”
    “See you keep them that way.”
    The motion of the mast was swinging them in a corkscrew circle, forward, sideways and down; it took a while for Jesamiah to focus the glass, to find what he was looking for.
    There was the Fortune of Virginia , and there about four miles to windward of her, well clear of the mist now, a sloop running with a smaller companion giving Chase. Jesamiah swore colourfully. He had been a pirate for ten years, had been in enough Chases to recognise the early stages of an attack. And the larger sloop was instantly recognisable. As distinctive as the oak leaf and acorn tattoo Jesamiah sported on the left side of his chest.
    “The bugger!” he said with feeling, “The fokken bloody bugger!”
    Hand over hand he slid quickly down the backstay, before his boots touched the deck was bellowing orders. “All hands! All hands on deck! Clear for action!”
    Marching past Alicia, Jesamiah took control of the helm. “Sandy, stop your ditherin’ with the running gear and escort the lady below. Give ‘er to Finch and tell ‘im to stow ‘er somewhere safe.”
    Furious, Alicia shook the boy away as he took her arm. “I am not a keg of cargo to be manhandled. I am going nowhere unless you tell me what is going on here!”
    “We’re clearing for action,