“Quiet!” Morley roared over the din. “We following the Fortune in, Captan?”
“No,” Keelin answered quickly. “We’re getting the fuck out of here, making for the nearest port, dropping off these poor sods just lost their home, and finding the nearest merchant ship to pillage.”
There was a mixed response from his assembled crew, but for once Smithe didn’t speak out against his captain.
“So that’s the plan,” Keelin said, raising his voice. “Anyone with a job, get to it. Anyone without a job, get the Hells out of the way.”
As pirates sprang to his command, one remained behind. Morley had a look of disappointment as deep as the sea on his face. “You’re condemning him and everyone on that ship to death, Captan.”
Keelin shook his head, but he couldn’t meet his first mate’s eyes. “Drake condemned them to death when he decided to attack the Man of War.”
“What about the charts?”
“Damn the charts,” Keelin said with little to no conviction. “Right now I just want to get out of here alive.”
Chapter 14 - Fortune
The wind was on their side and so were the numbers, with Stillwater’s crew backing them up. The soldiers on that Man of War might be trained for combat, but they wouldn’t be used to fighting on a ship. With the deck moving beneath them and cramped confines, the battle would sway in the favour of those with relevant experience, pirates who had earned their salt a hundred times over.
The Man of War was growing steadily now as the Fortune flew towards it, and Drake found himself truly grinning for the first time in what seemed like an age.
“She ain’t coming,” shouted Pip from up in the nest.
“What?” Drake screamed back, his good mood evaporating in an instant.
“The Phoenix is turning away. She’s running, Cap’n.”
Drake stormed to the aft of the ship to find Pip was right. It was clear as day The Phoenix was presenting them all her arse and leaving Drake and his crew to an enemy that greatly outnumbered them.
“That fucking piece of shit pretend fucking pirate cunt running off to suck on Tanner’s black fucking cock leaving us to fucking die. Fuck!” Drake screamed impotently at the retreating form of The Phoenix. He turned to find a number of his crew staring at him with expressions one part impressed at the tirade, and four parts terrified at their captain proclaiming they were all about to die.
Princess appeared, near leaping up the ladder from the quarterdeck. “She really leaving us?”
“The Hells do you think?” Drake was still very much in a rage.
“We turning tail and runnin’ then, Cap’n?”
Drake turned, slammed his fist onto the aft railing, and spat a huge glob of spittle into the sea. The Oracle, Drake’s own brother, had predicted that he needed Stillwater on his side, and he’d also predicted that Drake would die many decades from now and not in a suicidal attack on a superior force. The possibility that Hironous could be wrong, that Drake might die before establishing his empire, had never even occurred to Drake until now.
Drake turned to find Princess, several members of his crew, and Arbiter Beck all staring at him, waiting for his decision. It was the presence of one of his brother’s Arbiters that made Drake’s decision for him. He would trust his brother.
“Stay true to the course,” Drake hissed. “Someone go below and see to the refugees. Anyone can hold a sword gets one, anyone looks like they can swing one gets to come up on deck and fight for their lives with the rest of us.”
“We’re gonna fight ’em?” said one of the newer members of his crew, a pirate named Wes, if Drake wasn’t mistaken. “That’s suicide!”
Drake cracked a rictus grin. “I’m captain, so I’ll tell you what is and ain’t suicide. You really reckon I aim to die here?”
There was a slight pause. “No.”
“Reckon that’s settled then. Get to your damned orders.”
Beck stayed behind; it seemed she was serious about sticking close to Drake. He wondered how serious she would be once the fighting started. Drake knew he wasn’t the best swordsman in the isles, nor on his own ship, but he wasn’t one to shy away from a fight no matter how shitty the odds.
“You ready for this?” he said. “Could always put that coat of yours back on. Bastards on that ship are from Sarth – they’d never attack an Arbiter.”
Beck shot him a glance. “You might be surprised what men will do when they think they can get away with it. Inquisitor Vance gave me instructions to keep you alive. I can’t do that if I’m hiding in a cabin, begging for mercy.”
Drake considered making an amorous comment, but the threat of death was too high even for him. Maybe after the battle, when everyone’s blood was up, he’d see about getting the Arbiter naked. Drake made his way to the railing overlooking the main deck and looked down upon the gathering pirates and refugees. It wouldn’t be long now until that same deck was awash with red, so decorated by those same men and women. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Can’t we run?” shouted one of the refugees.
“Ain’t time for it now,” Drake shouted back. “Wind would be against us. Better or worse, we’re fighting our way out of this one.”
Princess and Beck joined him at the railing. He spared each of them a glance and found himself sincerely hoping neither of them would die.
“Besides, folk on that ship have killed too many of us. They burned Black Sands. They murdered your family and friends in Sev’relain. They’re looking to fucking kill us all, and they ain’t about to stop unless we stop them.”
“They outnumber us.”
“Nah.” Drake cracked a grim smile. “We outnumber them. Each one of us counts for ten of those land-loving turds. Ain’t a one can stand straight on a boat, let alone fight.” He glanced up at the approaching Man of War, and it suddenly looked close. He wagered just another minute and they’d be exchanging pointy projectiles.
“Those” – he pointed towards the ship with his sword – “are Volmar’s lapdogs. We” – he waved his sword over those below him – “are Rin’s chosen, and we’re fighting on her sacred waters. Ain’t no way she’ll let us die. So let’s make some noise and show those bastards they picked a fight with the wrong bloody pirates!”
A cry went up, followed by the sound of weapons being bashed upon wood, and Drake had to admit it was loud and, hopefully, intimidating. His pirates went about taking up positions of cover against the immediate threat of arrows, while most of the refugees milled about on deck, believing they were invincible all of a sudden.
“Nice speech,” Beck said as she took up her own position, near Drake but behind a mast.
“Rin’s sacred waters?” Princess said.
“Fuck knows.” Drake grinned, ducking down behind the railing on the quarterdeck. “They might be.”
“If it means anything to ya, Cap’n, I really hope you don’t die,” Princess continued, with what might have been considered a smile.
“Do you find yourself missing that spider, Princess?”
“Hells yes, Cap’n. Bloody great thing terrified the shit out of me, but I always felt she was watching out for the crew.”
With all the noise his own crew was making, Drake didn’t hear the soldiers on the Man of War loose their arrows, but he did hear those arrows thud as they hit the Fortune’s hull; he also heard the scream of one of the refugees not smart enough to find cover. Drake wondered where the arrow had taken the man, but it wasn’t really important. Some arrows poked holes in the sails, holes that would soon need fixing, and others cleared the ship entirely. Only one man down from the first volley, and Drake hoped the next would follow suit.