“Grapnels! He’s going to grapple,” Pope shouted. “Cut the grapnel lines!”
Gabe nodded, then turned and ordered a master’s mate. “Send up the flares, I just hope it’s not too damn late.”
The pirate’s guns had damaged timbers, planks, and a good section of the bulwark in addition to the destruction aloft. Thank God for Pope’s sudden order to get down or they’d not have enough men left to fight the ship. Musket fire from the pirates had started anew. Shots whined overhead, and the master’s mate Gabe had ordered to send up the flare fell kicking, his face reduced to a bloody pulp. Shark’s swivel hanged again sharply. Its canister cut down a number of the pirates as they had grouped amidships making ready to board. The screaming herd had been reduced to a writhing mass.
“Boarders! Repel boarders!” Pope was shouting. This was the cue for the marines to come on deck. Their sudden appearance gave life to Shark’s defenders, but still more grapnels were flying through the air to replace those cut or shot away. The marine sharpshooters were doing their best to cut down the enemy as they attempted to hoard Shark, but the numbers were too great.
The distinct sound of the swivel gun filled the air again. Damn, Gabe thought. That had to have been the second shot in under a minute.
Dagan was doing his part. The canister from the swivel gun acted like a great scythe, cutting down another group of boarders as they were attempting to come across. Screams, curses, and cries of pain were intertwined with the ring of metal-on-metal as cutlasses clashed, along with the sounds of gun fire as pistols and muskets went off. Gabe felt a glancing blow to his shoulder as a pirate plummeted to the deck, his eyes glaring, but not seeing, as a handspike had been buried in his skull. Almost out of breath, Gabe’s arm felt like lead. The constant jar upon jar as he fended off one cutthroat after another had caused his arm to go numb. He felt himself giving ground. There were too many. A musket or pistol ball burned the side of his scalp and blood started to flow. Gabe tried to keep his focus on the man in front of him. The pirate sensed victory with the sudden flow of blood down Gabe’s face. Before he could press his advantage, however, a marine shot the man, jamming a musket to his head and pulling the trigger.
Pope’s group was all but surrounded as they made
their stand beneath the mainmast. Gabe and his band
had been backed against the aft rail. They could retreat
no further. One more step and they’d be in the sea.
“Damn it. Where the hell is Drakkar?” Dagan let loose
with another round of canister. Its effect was murderous
as it cut down a swarm of pirates who were engaging
Pope’s group.
Bleeding from his wounds, Gabe now seemed to be
in a fog, not fully aware of, or in control of his body. He
was now acting on instinct alone. He heard the rasp of
steel as he warded off another lunge. He was
surrounded now. He deflected yet another blow, but felt
a sharp, searing pain in his shoulder. Gabe felt himself
sliding in blood. Whether it was his or someone else’s,
he didn’t know. A gunshot exploded next to Gabe, and
a blood spattered pirate crashed into him. The man was
clenched in a death’s grip with one of Shark’s crew,
neither willing to give. From somewhere in Gabe’s
dazed mind he heard someone shouting, “Strike, will you strike?” “Strike be damned,” he muttered in his last conscious thought.
“Easy sir. Easy now. We’ums here sir!” Slowly the
fog started to clear, “Have I been dreaming?” Gabe
wondered. A sob escaped his lips as the pain in his
head, his shoulder, and side became very real. His eyes
seemed to fog over again, but in the mist he saw his
brother and he reached out.
“Gil!”
“Easy lad,” muttered the American doctor, Caleb. He was with Anthony. Then Dagan was offering him water. Then everything went black.
For several days, Gabe went in and out of consciousness. Fever racked his body, and delirium twisted his senses. He talked to his father, and called out to his mother. He heard voices.
“Gabe, it’s Gil. I’m here for you.”
In his fog, he saw Dagan come and go. He recalled whispers and hushed voices. And women. He heard women’s voices. He recalled trying to rise up only to be pushed back down. “Easy man. Don’t rush it. You need your rest.” Then it was all black again.
Rain-it sounded like rain outside. Gabe opened his eyes. It was raining outside. He could hear it. But where was he? He didn’t hear the familiar sounds associated with a ship. This was not his cot. He felt the covers, all soft and sweet smelling. He felt a slight pain as he moved. His clothes. Where were his clothes? He was naked beneath the frilly covers.
“Well look who is back from the dead,” Caleb said. He had entered the bedroom and witnessed Gabe’s return to consciousness. Gabe attempted a smile, but felt a twinge and stiffness along his scalp as he did so.
“Ah lad, it’s beat up you are, and somewhat the worse for wear. But you’ll be back to pleasuring the wenches in no time, filling their heads with your blarney heroics.” Gabe could feel the healing furrow along his scalp. “Aye,” Caleb said. “A close run thing.” A bandage was also in place across Gabe’s left shoulder and around his waist. Gabe found himself peering at his bandaged body, then looked beneath the covers. As he did so, Caleb volunteered, “It’s naked as a jay bird, you are!” Gabe started to ask who had undressed him, but wasn’t able to finish his question as Lady Deborah and Gil had entered the room with Dagan behind them.
“Hungry?” Anthony asked.
Realizing he was, Gabe answered, “Ravenous.”
Later that evening, Gabe managed to hobble to a chair on the porch. There was a glint of sunshine still on the horizon. The rain had stopped but the air was still damp. He had closed his eyes, enjoying the peace while the hint of cool breeze blew upon his face. Relaxing so, he sensed another presence. Opening his eyes, Gabe saw Lady Deborah standing there smiling down at him. “It was you who took care of me!” Gabe’s comment was more a statement than a question.
“Along with Caleb, Gil, and Dagan,” she replied.
“But it was you who cared for me somewhere in those lost days. I can remember soft, gentle hands. It was not unlike Mother’s hands when I was a little boy and got hurt.”
“It was the least I could do for my future brother-inlaw,” Deborah replied as she reached down and took Gabe’s offered hand. “Gil loves you so much. He was worried sick about you, and yet at the same time was filled with pride at your gallant stand. He prayed daily for your recovery. He said his life has been much more complete with you in it. He was afraid he’d lose you before the two of you really were able to share time together.”
Gabe tried to hide the moisture growing in his eyes. “I too am glad to have discovered my brother. He is so much like father.”
Lady Deborah’s face creased into a smile. “It’s funny you should say so, because that’s exactly what your brother said of you.”