quarterdeck, seeing no sailors along the way.
They must all be at their posts
. The captain had turned the ship; she knew that from the position of the sun.
She looked around and this time she did see sails of another ship. She saw its graceful outline, and it really did seem to dance across the water. It was nothing like the thick, heavily laden merchantman.
Why did the captain believe it hostile? Because it appeared to be following the
Charlotte
?
She wondered how something so beautiful could be deadly, then she remembered the tales of pirates. Breath caught in her throat even as she watched the ship approach ever so slowly, its guns highlighted by the sun.
She stood transfixed, shadowed by the longboat near where she stood.
“A French flag,” shouted the lookout.
She heard curses, then a boom that echoed out over the water.
The
Charlotte
was being fired upon.
Chapter Four
The sluggish English vessel tried to make a run for it but it was like a tortoise trying to outrun a fox.
Alex waited until they were well within firing range and ordered a shot fired over its bow. His crew had improved considerably and the shot landed just beyond the ship. The
Charlotte
, he saw from the writing on the side.
A good English name. It whetted his appetite.
He ordered the French flag hoisted. That had been enough, with the sight of his guns, to cause the surrender of the other two ships.
Instead, the ship turned again. It was making for Antigua, hoping, he thought, to find help.
There would be none for the Englishman. The ship he’d sent to France wouldn’t yet be close to that country, and news of the one he’d sold in Martinique would take weeks to travel to an English port, then on to London.
He’d become so deadened to violence, he felt little sympathy. Still, a small glimmer of admiration stirred in him. This captain, like him, obviously believed in hopeless causes.
He ordered the gun crew to send another ball across the ship’s bow.
The aim was nearly perfect, splashing about twenty-five feet past the fleeing ship.
Still, the merchantman didn’t stop.
Because of valuable cargo? He hoped so.
Through the telescope, he saw men manning the four guns on deck.
“That captain must be insane,” he said to Claude, who stood nearby.
“
Oui
,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
“He must have something valuable, to risk his neck,” Alex said. “Aim for their masts.”
They were closing rapidly.
One cannon roared, then another. The deck lurched as the cannon recoiled beneath them. One shot felt short. Another smashed into the mizzen topsail.
He expected the ship to surrender then. Instead, he saw men working the enemy ship’s guns. A ball ended fifty feet short of the
Ami
. The next splintered the deck.
He spun around at the shouts of his crewmen. None looked seriously injured other than several minor wounds from wood splinters.
“I want that ship,” he said, his anger vibrating in his voice. A rolling round of thunder responded. One ball tore into the
Charlotte’s
mainmast. Another hit the deck. Smoke enveloped the ship.
Yet it fired back, this time the ball falling five feet short of the
Ami
.
He ordered another round of cannon fire, this time over the bow. Despite his angry words, he did not want to destroy the ship. He wanted its cargo and wanted to get that cargo to a French port. A destroyed ship with no sailing power would not suit his purposes. The volley of all his guns should show they meant business.
In minutes, the English flag dipped. They were surrendering.
He assigned a prize crew, then decided that he himself would go over. The captain was a fool, but a brave one. He also wanted to see the cargo that had been protected at such risk.
As the boat was being lowered, Francois, one of his youngest sailors, ran over to him. “Captain, come quick.”
He followed the sailor to find Meg lying on the deck, a large splinter from the deck rammed halfway through her shoulder. Robin was
They must all be at their posts
. The captain had turned the ship; she knew that from the position of the sun.
She looked around and this time she did see sails of another ship. She saw its graceful outline, and it really did seem to dance across the water. It was nothing like the thick, heavily laden merchantman.
Why did the captain believe it hostile? Because it appeared to be following the
Charlotte
?
She wondered how something so beautiful could be deadly, then she remembered the tales of pirates. Breath caught in her throat even as she watched the ship approach ever so slowly, its guns highlighted by the sun.
She stood transfixed, shadowed by the longboat near where she stood.
“A French flag,” shouted the lookout.
She heard curses, then a boom that echoed out over the water.
The
Charlotte
was being fired upon.
Chapter Four
The sluggish English vessel tried to make a run for it but it was like a tortoise trying to outrun a fox.
Alex waited until they were well within firing range and ordered a shot fired over its bow. His crew had improved considerably and the shot landed just beyond the ship. The
Charlotte
, he saw from the writing on the side.
A good English name. It whetted his appetite.
He ordered the French flag hoisted. That had been enough, with the sight of his guns, to cause the surrender of the other two ships.
Instead, the ship turned again. It was making for Antigua, hoping, he thought, to find help.
There would be none for the Englishman. The ship he’d sent to France wouldn’t yet be close to that country, and news of the one he’d sold in Martinique would take weeks to travel to an English port, then on to London.
He’d become so deadened to violence, he felt little sympathy. Still, a small glimmer of admiration stirred in him. This captain, like him, obviously believed in hopeless causes.
He ordered the gun crew to send another ball across the ship’s bow.
The aim was nearly perfect, splashing about twenty-five feet past the fleeing ship.
Still, the merchantman didn’t stop.
Because of valuable cargo? He hoped so.
Through the telescope, he saw men manning the four guns on deck.
“That captain must be insane,” he said to Claude, who stood nearby.
“
Oui
,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
“He must have something valuable, to risk his neck,” Alex said. “Aim for their masts.”
They were closing rapidly.
One cannon roared, then another. The deck lurched as the cannon recoiled beneath them. One shot felt short. Another smashed into the mizzen topsail.
He expected the ship to surrender then. Instead, he saw men working the enemy ship’s guns. A ball ended fifty feet short of the
Ami
. The next splintered the deck.
He spun around at the shouts of his crewmen. None looked seriously injured other than several minor wounds from wood splinters.
“I want that ship,” he said, his anger vibrating in his voice. A rolling round of thunder responded. One ball tore into the
Charlotte’s
mainmast. Another hit the deck. Smoke enveloped the ship.
Yet it fired back, this time the ball falling five feet short of the
Ami
.
He ordered another round of cannon fire, this time over the bow. Despite his angry words, he did not want to destroy the ship. He wanted its cargo and wanted to get that cargo to a French port. A destroyed ship with no sailing power would not suit his purposes. The volley of all his guns should show they meant business.
In minutes, the English flag dipped. They were surrendering.
He assigned a prize crew, then decided that he himself would go over. The captain was a fool, but a brave one. He also wanted to see the cargo that had been protected at such risk.
As the boat was being lowered, Francois, one of his youngest sailors, ran over to him. “Captain, come quick.”
He followed the sailor to find Meg lying on the deck, a large splinter from the deck rammed halfway through her shoulder. Robin was
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