Pam turned to see a line of dirty, gaunt, but smiling men come down the gangplank from the Muskijl. The freed Swedes carried weapons taken from their former captors who followed behind, heads bowed and afraid. More Swedes emerged from the Effrayant, shielding their eyes from the bright sun but their faces were filled with joy. The captured enemy were directed to lie down in a line where they were bound hand and foot beside their officers.
The half-starved, but elated Swedes freed from their captivity gathered near the Second Chance Bird. At first they stood a little way off, blinking and muttering amongst themselves, wondering at the identity of their strange looking rescuers until Pam's crew realized how odd they must appear and began to laugh and joke in Swedish.
"Do you not know us? We are your brother Swedes! We have disguised ourselves as heathen Easterners to fool this trash!" The freed crewmen started laughing too, and a few happy minutes of embracing and happy back slapping followed.
The Lojtnant, who had come to his senses despite the terrible injury to his leg, ordered his men to help him stand, despite Dore's insistence that he stay laying down lest the bandages come loose. For once, her orders were ignored. The man was too proud perhaps for his own good but Pam understood his feelings. She caught Dore's eye and subtly motioned for her to let him do as he wished. The formidable German scowled deeply but kept still.
Lundkvist saluted Kapten Lagerhielm of the Muskijl, a tired-looking fellow with a scruffy red beard, who barely resembled the proud officer Pam remembered meeting in Bremerhaven so long ago and far away. Lundkvist quickly told him a very brief version of their adventures and introduced him to the leader of the rescue, Captain Pam Miller.
Lagerhielm looked up to Pam where she stood on the junk's castle deck and saluted her. "Madame Captain, you have my deepest thanks. Please consider my men yours to command until this crisis is resolved. I'm afraid we are all half-starved and too weak to do you much good, but we shall try."
Pam saluted him back. "Thank you, Kapten Lagerheim! It is so very good to see you all safe!" Pam felt a sense of growing elation. They had lost good men, but they were winning the day, their sacrifices would not be in vain.
The Lojtnant turned to Gerbald. "Herr Gerbald, I am giving you a field command in the Royal Swedish Marines and promoting you to sergeant, the rank you once held when you fought for our king in this long war. Since I am out of action, the men are yours." The orange-skinned Swedes all cheered and slapped their well-loved German comrade heartily on the back. Gerbald gave Pam a hugely pleased grin and a big thumbs up. Pam couldn't stop herself from emitting a rather un-captain-like squeal of glee and jumped up and down briefly. Yes, we are winning, but it's not over yet you fool, save it for later! she chided herself.
With the dock in order, Pam ordered Sergeant Gerbald to begin the next part of their plan. He assigned Kapten Lagerheim and six of his newly freed Swedish sailors to guard the captured officers and sailors, holding the enemy's own pistols and muskets to their heads. The enemy were not going to offer any resistance; they had seen the power of the Second Chance Bird's men and guns and feared for their lives. Gerbald led his shipmates, and those freed men who were strong enough to fight, through the carnage littering the dock and headed for shore. Upon reaching the open gate of the unfinished fortress they split into two groups, one entering the town, the other going around the walls and up the slope toward the hillside fields. They were angry men who moved like tigers on the hunt, men on their way to undo terrible wrongs, men with blood on their minds. Pam swelled with pride to see them, her fears for their safety evaporating in the glory of the moment.
Pam turned to Lagerheim. "Are all your men accounted for?"
"Yes, but a few who are quite ill still remain on the Muskijl, they need the attention of a physician. There is one we know is being kept out on the Ide who you-" Lagerheim was interrupted by an imploring call in English from near his feet.
A man who looked to be in his late fifties, wearing neither the garb of a sailor or an officer, turned a pale, mustachioed face up to her. "Mademoiselle Capitan, please, May I have a word! It is most important you hear me!"
Pam looked down at the man like a circling raptor would mark a lone duckling peeping on a pond. "Yes, sir, you may. I'm listenin'." she replied in a danger-filled but cordial drawl, her West Virginia Hillbilly accent in full twang as sometimes happened when she was keyed up.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Arnaud Henri Durand of Normandy. I am a physician, lately finding myself trapped in the service of these wayward men. Please, I can help your wounded, I swear to you on the holy cross! Allow me to assist; lives can be saved." he motioned toward Lundkvist with his chin. The Lojtnant was lying on his back again, his face a mask of pain as Dore wiped his brow and worried over him. "Your fine young officer there. His injury is most terrible, he may lose his leg today. Please, if you don't let me apply my skills, he will certainly lose his life before the sun sets! Let me help him!"
Pam gave the man a long, considering look. "All right then. If you make yourself useful, Doctor, you will live. Try anything funny, though, and I'll shoot yer head clean off." Pam lifted her pistol in front of her chest for dramatic effect. She switched back to Swedish "You men, go ahead and untie this doctor and let him do his work, but keep a close eye on him." The Muskijl's sailors cut the man loose and helped him to his feet.
Once free, the French physician bowed deeply. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Capitan. It is best we don't try to move the gentleman, please allow me to get my surgeon's tools from the Effrayant."
Pam sent him on his way with two guards. Durand fell politely into line in front of the watchful Swedes, walking as quickly as he could without running, which might alarm his escort.
Kapten Lagerheim turned to Pam again. "I can vouch for that man, Captain. He was captured by these creatures and forced into duty. He tried to help us when he could, whenever this son of a whore allowed it, or behind his thrice-damned back." The Kapten gave the bound captain a sharp kick in the side for emphasis, making him howl. Pam didn't stop him. She figured the deposed tyrant deserved whatever he got, and concepts like the Geneva Convention were a long stretch of space-time away from the Indian Ocean of the seventeenth century.
"We begged them to let the doctor help when they found-" He was about to say more when their attention was drawn away to a commotion on the shore.
Pam and her borrowed crew had been watching what they could of the land battle, occasionally able to see Swedes and the cruel African slave-masters locked in combat. Pam prayed fervently that none of her people would lose their lives, but knew that some would. The battles they had been through today were too big, the foes too numerous. The slavers fought fiercely, with the tenacity of cornered animals struggling for their very lives. To Pam's great joy, shouts of triumph in Swedish could be heard, the whoops and hollers of free people released from months of painful captivity. A band of some thirty of the slavers, the fight taken out of them, were fleeing down the muddy track to the dock, calling to each other in voices filled with fear. They were in a panic, running pell-mell as they headed for their swift, lateen-sailed craft.
The bosun called out to her. "Captain Pam, the carronade is ready for firing!"