“Au revoir,” he said.
It was then that Dagan raised his head toward the sky and cried out, “Corbeau attaque Le Diable!” No sooner had Dagan given his command than a blur of black wings flew down from above, screeching as it did so. The screeching caused the pirate to look up. His doing so provided the attacking bird with a perfect target. The pirate’s screams were intermingled with the great bird’s flapping wings and screeching. The bird’s claws and beak tore chunks of flesh from the pirate’s face. The pirate tried to protect his face and eyes with one hand, and fend off the demon bird with the other. But it was no use. The fierce attack had already reduced the pirate’s face to a mass of gore, making it hard to recognize as being human.
Anthony was forgotten as the knife was dropped to the deck. The pirate had one eye torn from its socket and was screaming in pain. His arms were thrashing as he tried to combat his tormentor. Back he went. Back as the men moved out of his way, watching in awe at the spectacle that was taking place before them. The bird momentarily ceased his attack as the now blinded Frenchman had backed all the way to the aft rail. The raven’s beak and claws had turned red with dripping blood. The bird appeared to hover in the air above the pirate, flapping its wings in an accelerating fashion. Then the bird dove at the man’s face with such force he toppled over the rail. The pirate had at last grabbed hold of his tormentor, and together they hit the water. The warm Caribbean choked off the anguished screams and screeching. Once again everything was silent. Slowly the clouds moved, and the sun again shone bright.
Chapter Nineteen
Anthony rose from where he’d been kneeling on the deck. Touching his neck, he found the bleeding had stopped and the blood had dried. Then everyone surrounded him: Gabe, Bart, Buck, Pope and Dagan. They were all there. Dagan looked ashen and clammy. His breathing seemed labored. Anthony took his hand and the two looked directly at each other, but no words were spoken. None were needed. When Anthony released his hand, Dagan said, “I think I’ll go have a wet.” Gabe watched as Dagan made his way toward the Shark. He couldn’t understand fully what had just transpired, but its effect on Dagan was obvious. He looked drained and weak. Gabe had never seen him like this before. However, but for Dagan’s actions, Gabe was sure his brother would be dead now.
Caleb examined Anthony’s wounds and found numerous superficial cuts and bruises. The cut made by the dead pirate captain had been only deep enough to draw blood but nothing else. That it was superficial did nothing to lessen the menace of the razor sharp blade. That was still fresh in Anthony’s memory. The lump on the back of his head was another story. Anthony’s scalp was split and would require stitches. The collection of blood under the scalp hurt like hell. It was already so big Anthony couldn’t put on his hat.
“Sir! ‘Ere, sir!” Buck finally got Anthony’s attention. “Are you well enough to move, sir? This ship is taking on water fast and is in danger of sinking.”
“Aye, Mr. Buck. Have our wounded removed to Drakkar and then conduct a quick search of this vessel if conditions permit.”
“Aye, sir,” Buck replied as he turned away and set working parties about their assigned duties.
Anthony went with Gabe, Pope, Bart and a bosun’s mate to make a quick search of the pirate captain’s cabin. Bart quickly found a small chest of mixed coins, gold, silver and odd pieces of jewelry. “No doubt some ‘o ‘is plunder ‘e’s tucked away I’m thinking,” Bart volunteered. Pope found some papers in a locked desk drawer that seemed to identify the pirate. Old official dispatches and letters were addressed to Capitaine de fre’gate Phillipe Jabot. This proved the rogue had at least been a French naval officer at some point. However, there was nothing to prove the French knew about or sanctioned the piracy Jabot had recently been involved in. Just a man gone bad they’d say. An embarrassment yes, but no official connection to the French government. Anthony and his group searched as long as they dared, but were unable to find anything that would connect a spy to Jabot’s operation. Nevertheless, Anthony was certain somebody with a high degree of knowledge of ship’s cargoes, passengers and sailing times had been feeding information to the pirates. Well, no matter. For now it was over.
Once on deck the bosun reported, “The Scythe is in a bad way, sir. She’s in danger of foundering. The carpenter and his mates are aboard her now.”
“All right,” Anthony replied, looking about him. He was surprised to see how much the Reaper had settled during his quick search of Jabot’s cabin. Suddenly, a loud snap resounded, followed by another. Bart, suddenly alarmed, looked at Anthony and said, “Grapnel lines be parting, sir.”
“Yes. Let’s repair on board Drakkar,” Anthony replied. Loudly, he ordered “Clear ship! Clear ship!”
When the last man was back on Drakkar, Anthony ordered the remaining grapples to be cut. Once the order was carried out Drakkar seemed to rise up from her larboard list. Reaper’s main deck was almost immediately awash. Peckham had moved up to Anthony’s side to peer at Reaper’s demise. Noticing him, Anthony said, “I wish Merle Pitts was here to see this.”
Tearfully, the old master replied, “He does, sir. I feel it in me soul, he does.” Then quietly the once proud ship was gone.
It was only after things had settled down that Anthony found out Kramer was dead. Not killed in battle, but at the surgeon’s table. A surgeon’s mate said he’d just removed a man’s leg, took a step back, wiped his brow and then slid down on the deck lifeless. With Kramer gone, Caleb had once again showed his worth caring for the wounded. Anthony entered the sick berth and almost vomited. The stench of blood and human waste was overpowering. “Excuse me, sir,” a loblolly boy said as he sped to the upper deck to empty his full tub of “wings and limbs.”
“The Reaper is gone, but what a terrible price. All the dead and wounded, Lieutenant Mainard among them. The Admiralty would think it a small price to pay for their victory,” Anthony thought as he tried to control his nausea. He spoke to the wounded and and praised them for their gallant efforts. He made his way to Caleb, who had beckoned him over to speak to Mr. Davy.
“The splinter,” Caleb explained, ‘“lies superior to the thorax, sir.” Seeing Anthony’s puzzled look, Caleb explained further. “The splinter has lodged itself beneath the tissues along Mr. Davy’s side, but above the rib cage. Therefore, none of the vital organs that lie within the thorax-‘ere the chest-are likely to be damaged.”
After giving Davy a liberal drink of rum and placing a leather strap between his teeth, two surgeon’s mates held Davy down. Another surgeon’s mate handed Caleb a scalpel and a relatively clean cloth to wipe away the blood. Caleb took the scalpel and ran it down the length of the splinter, opening the tissues so that the jagged splinter was plucked from the wound. Then the doctor poured a liberal splash of rum over the open tissue to wash away any remnants.
Looking up from his handiwork, Caleb explained to Anthony. “It’s better to open such a wound and remove any fragments. Simply extracting the splinter would surely be just as painful. Any fragments not removed would later suppurate creating a gaseous humour and mortification.” Turning back to his present work, Caleb splashed more rum over the wound and sewed it up leaving an opening with a wick to be drawn out at intervals. Davy had gritted his teeth but never cried out. “Now young sir,” Caleb declared, “you’ll have every young lass at English Harbour swooning over you. But be warned. Don’t over do it, else Lieutenant Anthony may become jealous.” Everyone laughed at Caleb’s attempt to cheer up the brave boy.