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“All right now, lads. Our work here is done. Let’s go be helping out our mates,” Williams yelled. “Half of you go with Lieutenant Markham and t’other half with me.”

Lieutenant Markham was not sure he liked the gunner throwing orders about, but he wasn’t about to argue with him at this moment.

After
Drakkar’
s last salvo
the two ships drifted together, the hulls making a grinding noise. Anthony heard the lookout calling down again,
“Shark
and
Rascal
‘as boarded the brig, sir.”

“Buck!”

“Here, sir,” he answered, hearing Anthony’s call above the increasing din of battle.

“Have Lieutenant Dunn and his marines join Lieutenant Markham’s party aft and board
Reaper
by the stern. Gabe and Earl have boarded the brig, and the sight of your party on
Reaper’s
stern may help turn the tide.”

“Aye, aye, sir. We’ll handle the bastards.”

“Good. Now before you board, make sure the bosun has us grappled together tight. I don’t want us drifting apart and the bastard escaping somehow.”

“Nay, sir. He’ll not get away!”

“Rupert!”

“Sir!”

“It’s fight to the finish I’m afraid. There will he no quarter.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, sir.” Then Buck was gone.

“Mister Peckham!”

‘Aye, sir!”

“I don’t feel we’ll need you at the wheel for awhile. If you’ll get your mates together along with the extra men, we’ll board amidships.”

“Aye, sir. Let’s go men. There’s bloody work to be done this day I’m thinking,” the old master shouted to his mates.

Dunn’s sharpshooters were doing their part well but damned if the pirates hadn’t gotten men into the rigging. They were marking down men in Anthony’s party. As the ocean’s swell ground the two hulls together, the yardarms and riggings became tangled. Half blinded by residual smoke from
Drakkar’s
last broadside, Anthony gave the signal. Williams’s party boarded forward, Buck’s party aft and Anthony’s amidships. The pirate
captain was momentarily visible to Anthony, but quickly disappeared into a group of fighting men. The sight on board
Reaper
was indeed gruesome. Anthony had never seen such havoc as had been rent by
Drakkar’s
gunnery. Guns were upended, carriages lay in splinters, and men lay crushed by the overturned cannons, or torn apart like disposed rubbish.

Many of
Drakkar’s
balls had plowed a path of destruction from one bulwark clear to the other side. Wounded men were being ignored as their mates were fighting for their lives. Screams and curses filled the air now that the great guns were silent. Pistol and musket shots still rang out. Spent balls thudded into the deck, as more members of Anthony’s party were falling prey to the pirate’s muskets. A mild breeze was now carrying away the smoke that had helped
Drakkar
by reducing visibility. As they boarded
Reaper
Anthony heard a loud crack, then a shout of warning. He turned away just in time to avoid being trapped by more damaged rigging and falling spars. Thankfully most of it fell on a group of pirates. More canvas and cordage were hanging like great obstacles, and men had to hack their way through to fight each other. A bosun’s mate with a group of men hurried past Anthony, swinging axes and cutlasses. They shouted insults to the pirates, their arms waving metal blades that shined in the sunlight only to turn dark with blood. Anthony found himself hoarse from shouting encouragement and commands to his men. His earlier apprehensions had given way to a reckless blood lust. Splinters whipped past him, and a few stung his cheek as a pistol ball ricocheted off a downed spar next to him. Anthony turned toward the direction from which the shot had been fired. There was
Reaper’
s captain again, smoking pistol in hand. A loud cheer distracted Anthony. Turning, he spied Mr. Davy. Anthony could see tears,
fighting tears, mad tears. The boy was giving his all. As Davy wiped away the tears, his face was left streaked with smoke, blood, and grime.

“They’ve taken the brig, sir,” he reported. It was then that Anthony realized Davy was holding his side. A large splinter was protruding where it had embedded along the rib cage. Davy’s hand was soaked from blood. Seeing Anthony’s gaze, Davy said, “It hurts too much to pull out, sir. I tried.”

Anthony turned to Bart. “Get him back to the ship so the surgeon can tend to him.”

“But sir, my place is with you.”

Anthony was moved by Bart’s sincerity, but didn’t have time to debate. “Bart!”

“I understands sir. Come along young sir. Let’s get you back to ole Drakky and see if the surgeon might find a wee potion for yer pain.”

Anthony turned his attention back to the fight. The pirates were being beaten. Slowly and at a great price—but they were being beaten. The ship was a crazed den of slaughter. A petty officer that was firing a swivel gun suddenly grasped his face and fell head long between the two ships. A huge pirate swung a blade as big as a claymore and beheaded a seaman only to have the man’s mate skewer him through the neck, creating a fountain of blood from a severed artery. Men were hacking, stabbing, and slashing at each other.

Anthony thrust his sword into a pirate who was aiming his pistol at a marine. Out of the corner of his eye, Anthony could see Buck, Gabe, and a number of men making their way through the remaining pirates by
Reaper’s
stern. Another pirate lunged at Anthony, his eyes glazed, oblivious to his many wounds, but now weakened. Anthony struck him down after a brief parry.

“Damme,” he thought. “It is still a wee bit hot for my taste.” He was tiring fast, the adrenaline rush was gone. A seaman fell beside him. His eyes were suddenly lifeless and staring into space, a large cutlass embedded in his chest. Without thinking, Anthony quickly dispatched the rogue who had just slain the seaman. Then another blade slashed at him, which he quickly fended off. There face to face and blade to blade, Anthony faced the pirate captain.

Their blades clashed and parted. A feint. A parry. The foes circled, each exploring for the other’s weakness warily.

Both men were fatigued and were gasping for breath. Their strength was ebbing, but neither was willing to surrender.

Most of the other fighting had now subsided. Buck and Gabe had both reached the outer part of a circle where Anthony and the pirate were dueling. Bart was almost to the inside of the circle. Sensing a distraction, the pirate lunged, the tip of his sword nicking Anthony’s side. Anthony parried the lunge and opened up the pirate’s arm from the elbow to the armpit. The arm was all but useless, and blood dripped down the man’s sleeve and off the hilt of his sword. Again the pirate lunged. This time Anthony side-stepped and brought his blade down across his opponent’s shoulder and collarbone. However, Anthony’s arm had grown tired, weak from the prolonged battle. The blade did not strike true. The pirate caught more of the flat side of the blade than the edge. Even with the glancing blow, a large gash was made and more blood began to flow.

“Give!” Anthony cried.“Give!” Then something struck Anthony in the head from behind. He felt himself beginning to fall. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and he could feel warm blood running down his neck. He seemed to
take forever to fall. Then he felt pain as he hit the deck. He tried to rise but he had fallen in a bloody pool. As he tried pushing himself up, his hands slipped from under him. Then Anthony felt pain again as someone stood over him and viciously grabbed him by his hair, jerked back his head, and placed a sharp menacing blade at his exposed throat. The pain in his head was terrible, but helped Anthony to refocus. A dead pirate lay next to where Anthony had just risen. Bart’s knife was stuck in the fellow’s neck. The rogue had apparently struck Anthony from behind and Bart had quickly dispatched him for his troubles. However, the pirate captain was now holding a blade beneath Anthony’s chin. He was threatening to sever Anthony’s windpipe if he was not given clear passage along with his surviving cohorts.

“No!” Anthony tried to speak out, only to feel a slight burning sensation, then warm blood trickle down on to his chest. The pirate captain meant business.

“Rapidement,”
he threatened,
“Or monsieur will die.” The silence was eerie as everyone lowered their weapons and absorbed what was happening. A heavy groan emerged as another swell caused the hulls of the wounded ships to rub together. The groan was haunting. A cloud suddenly darkened the ship, creating shadows.

“Tu comprends?
You have but a moment, then he dies,” the pirate threatened. Buck cleared his throat and started toward the pirate, but Dagan reached out to still him.

“Diable!”
Dagan shouted
to get the pirate’s attention. “I am Dagan, the revenger,
corbeau
.” Now Dagan’s voice was barely audible, not much more than a whisper. However, his words seemed to hypnotize the pirate leader. “Give me the knife. You have no need of such a heavy blade. Enough blood has been spilled today Surely
you’ve grown tired. It’s time to cool your blood and cleanse your tormented soul.”

As if in a trance, the pirate captain started to rise, loosening his grip on Anthony as he did so. He appeared to relax as he focused on Dagan. Suddenly the silence was broken as one of the blackguards screamed, “Cut ‘is throat. Kill ‘em, capitaine. Kill ‘em.” The French captain shook his head as if clearing himself from a daze. The spell had been broken. He jerked Anthony’s head back, once again raising his hand with the knife.

“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.

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 the
n 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.