Pirate Code (14 page)

Twenty Two

Jesamiah’s insistence on discipline during a fight, and the many hours he had spent putting the crew through exhausting gun practice proved its worth. The guns on the larboard side ripped, one after the other, as their target came in sight. Each one tore through the unprotected
Challenger
’s stern, through the taffrail and across the quarterdeck, smashing her wheel and binnacle box, slamming into the mizzenmast. Shattering through her seven stern windows, the heavy iron balls going on through Commodore Vernon’s cabin and the bulkheads and straight on along the gun deck, destroying everything in the way, be it wood, iron or human flesh and bone.

Jesamiah roared at Rue to bring
Sea Witch
round, bellowed at the men to shift their arses and meet her. She responded, as always she did to Jesamiah’s orders, without griping, moving willingly, fast and efficient. The yards creaked round, her crew swearing and cursing as they hauled on the sheets, the canvas cracking as the wind, full behind, billowed them outward as if they were live things.

Aboard
Challenger
, red-coated militia guards were scurrying aloft in what was left of the lower rigging, but Jesamiah’s men at the swivel guns easily picked them off before they even had chance to aim, let alone fire the muskets slung over their shoulders. He did not need to see to know what the carnage would be over there. He felt sorry for the damage to a proud ship, but it was only a passing regret. Had it been the other way around Vernon would have had no hesitation in blasting the
Sea Witch
out of the water – as his officers may well be doing in the next few minutes anyway.

Swept along by the current and the wind,
Sea Witch
was gaining speed, swaying forward parallel now with the naval vessel, less than fifty yards between the two.
Challenger
was firing for all she was worth, her first shots whistling overhead to fall harmlessly into the sea beyond the
Sea Witch
’s starboard rails.

One…two…three…four…five…swabbed out, reloaded, each of
Sea Witch
’s larboard cannon fired one after the other, the noise deafening, the belch of flame from the muzzles; acrid smoke palling in the rain-sodden air. Men wiped their smoke-blackened forearms across their red-rimmed smoke-irritated eyes, desperate to stay alive. The screaming of the wounded and dying was pitiful.

Rain was sculling down as if it were being swept through a drain, so dense it formed a heaving mist. The four guns on the open waist of the
Sea Witch
hissed as steam rose from the hot iron of the heavy barrels; the deck ran with water that poured in a red-tainted torrent out through the scuppers. The smoke writhed and seethed around the masts, clung to the gap between the two ships.

Challenger
‘s guns were finding their mark now, a section of the
Sea Witch
’s rail shattered in a burst of splinters – a man cried out, fell backwards clutching at his eye where a splinter, several inches long, had penetrated. Blood seeped through his fingers as his body contorted, and then lay still.

Smoke and rain almost obscured the
Challenger
, only the flared illumination of blasting flame marking where she was, but Jesamiah reckoned that to them, the
Sea Witch
was no different. Neither side needed to see the other to aim and fire. Not now.

Jesamiah’s only problem: he could see nothing for’ard, nothing beyond the mainmast ahead of him. Momentarily he came close to panic. Was he heading direct for the deeper channel? He glanced at the compass, the needle was swinging in its correct position, but this manoeuvre took more than a compass reading to achieve! It took skill and experience and a sharp sight. If they slewed to either starboard or larboard they would run aground on the hard bar of the sandy shallows, or fetch up on the jagged rocks of the shore, would founder and be wrecked, destroyed as surely by the sea as they may yet be by the
Challenger
’s blasting guns.

Twenty Three

Tiola stared, horrified, at the destruction happening on the far side of the harbour. The appalling damage to both ships and to the men aboard them. As she watched, with a creaking groan and whip-lash crack of the separating stays,
Challenger
’s main topmast tilted, lingered a moment, then tumbled slowly downwards as if it were a felled tree. All of it falling as a tangled mass of cordage, canvas and split timbers. Holes gaped like yawning mouths in her side; rudder, stern and railings were nothing but ragged splinters. But Vernon kept strict discipline aboard his ship and his officers and gunners, heedless of the dead, dying and wounded, were retaliating with a savage, almost insane vengeance.

Sea Witch
’s sails were holed, great chunks of her railings were also jagged and gouged. Her rigging was shredded in places, her fore t’gallant mast tilted at a crooked angle. Jesamiah’s men, heedless of the militia aboard
Challenger
aiming their muskets at them, were scampering aloft to make running repairs as best they could. As Tiola watched, one man took a musket ball in the back and fell like a stone. She closed her eyes, squeezed aside more tears, hoped he was dead before he had hit the wooden planking of the deck.

~
Oh Jesamiah! Jesamiah, what have you done?
~

She received no answer. She knew he was alive, she would have known instantly were he to be dead. Early on, when first she had spoken to him in this special, secretive way, he had shielded himself from her presence within his mind by a natural instinct, now, he had learnt how to do it as and when he wanted. He had the right to choose to hear her or not, but sometimes she wished he was not so stubbornly independent. She pushed again, firmer, against the shield he had erected against her, felt its impenetrable solidity. He knew she was trying to contact him, for she sensed a slight, hesitant waver before it strengthened even further.

He was leaving her. For a second time he was leaving her behind. And an inner dread that maybe he would not be coming back cut into her as cruelly as any sharpened blade.

The rain was sweeping
Sea Witch
’s bow as she swept forward past the
Challenger
. The density of the downpour partially obliterating her from sight, but rain would not stop the round shot, grape, langrage or the musket balls from hitting her. Rain could not protect the
Sea Witch
from being blown to pieces, nor could the rain protect Jesamiah – but Tiola could.

She was in pain and anguish from his going, did not know why he was going, but she loved him and trusted him. He had said he had no choice. He often lied, but never to her. It hurt, his going like this, but oh, how much more it would hurt were he to die!

She was tired, was emotionally and physically drained, but since stepping ashore the headache had gone. Raising her hand she made a soft “hie…ssh,” sound on an exhaled breath and concentrated on the solid shape of the
Sea Witch
. She closed her eyes and freed her spirit, allowed it to spiral upward like a curl of smoke rising solemnly from a chimney. Released from the confinement of her earth-bound body, Tiola soared above the house and above Nassau. Her inner self, the immortal part of her that held no boundary of form or shape shifted into an ethereal, shadowed mist that writhed itself around the
Sea Witch
, safely enclosing her in a protective embrace.

Tiola could have removed
Challenger
with one flick of her fingers, could have toppled and sank her as if she were of no more consequence than a holed bucket bobbing on the surface of the sea, but Tiola’s powers were governed by restrictions, her abilities limited by the law of her Craft. She was not permitted to do deliberate harm to a mortal unless the necessity was imperative to save herself. Oh, she could, very easily she could kill every person in Nassau; she could swipe out their arrogances and their angers, remove all the petty jealousies and the selfish obsessions. One word on her breath, one movement of her hand and all would be gone. Except she would be gone with it, for she existed as the counterbalance to the evils of the world; hope against despair, compassion against indifference. She was the love that drove out hatred, and she could not, ever, permit hatred to consume her.

Her Craft was created to preserve, not destroy. So, instead of harming those aboard the
Challenger
she shielded the
Sea Witch
. To human eyes, Jesamiah’s included,
Sea Witch
disappeared into a swirling mist-cloud of fugged smoke and pouring rain.

Thunder ripped across the sky, its roar matching the whoomph, of the
Challenger
’s cannons and her men ducked their heads against the vicious sting of the rain that pricked spitefully into their skin. They were firing blind at a ship that had become a ghost, a fading shadow. Not a shot hit her, for Tiola’s spirit mass absorbed every shuddering blow.

The fort’s cannons should also have been in action – there was movement up there on the walls, men were darting about, hurrying to load the guns, a great bustle of confusion, but as Jesamiah had predicted many of the Governor’s militia were dealing with the fighting in the town, leaving the fortress undermanned. One cannon roared to life but its shot fell wide, a second had damp powder in the touch hole, and beyond a feeble sputter, did nothing more.

As the
Sea Witch
slid past the
Challenger
’s bows, Tiola could hear Jesamiah shouting for the men to get ready to loose sail. She could see them as they waited alert and tense at their stations, and could feel the great pull of the ebbing tide carrying the ship along. But her energy was fading, it was all she could do to hold the misted shadow-cloak in place. She nearly let it slip! A great cheer arose from the
Challenger
as they saw their target clearly again!

Tiola gasped, closed the gap in her concentration and the cloak of protection. What had caused that? What element had shrivelled in under her awareness and caused mischief? And then she heard the low, hushing laugh, became aware of the waiting, gleeful presence; realised the reason for the headaches and the tiredness. Tethys! Tethys was draining her ability as water seeps from a cracked pot!

~
You are in my realm. I hold power here, not you or your kind.
~

~
You cannot harm me, Tethys!
~

A laugh, the sound of the sea booming against the rocks.

~
Can I not? As the moon pulls upon me and takes me to where she commands in the form of the ebb and flow of the tides, so I can pull upon you. I can attract the strength which flows within you. And when you have become weak and unable to protect him, I will claim him as mine own.
~

Sea Witch
was surging forwards, captured by the current of the tide, hurrying towards the swathe of the sandbar beneath the sea, not the deep, safe, channel. Tiola screamed at Jesamiah but he could not hear. She could do nothing to stop the proud ship from running aground; Could do nothing except watch!

~ Help him! ~
she pleaded
. ~ Rain please! Please do not listen to your mother. I beg you, help him! ~

Twenty Four

Jesamiah alone saw her, a vague outline of a figure standing on the bowsprit. She was too far away in this downpour to see clearly, but her grey cloak, gown and hair were billowing in the wind, and she was looking out to sea, her right arm raised, finger pointing. Tiola?

~ Is that you sweetheart? ~

~ Right, go hard right, now, my luvver! ~

Something was not right! He could hear the drumming of the rain, the roar of the thunder, the crash of the sea and the sound of the waves pounding on to the rocks beneath the fort. Could hear, too, the wide, open, Atlantic Ocean calling to him. That voice, for all it was trying to be, was not Tiola’s, but it blended into a roll of thunder and Jesamiah assumed it was the sound of the rain and his own agitation that was distorting her words. It had to be Tiola. Who else would it be?

~
Starb’d Jessss…ssamiah! Hard to starb’d, Now! Now!
~

Without thinking further he grabbed the wheel from Rue and spun it.
Sea Witch
heeled, paused a moment, and then her bow was lifting, rising and rising to meet the first Atlantic roller that hurried, eager, to meet and caress her.

“Loose all sail!” he bellowed, giving the helm back to Rue and curling his hands around his mouth, while leaping down into the waist. “Drop sail! Now, now, now!”

Sea Witch
’s mainsail and foresail were tumbling from the yards; she was lifting, her bow rising up and up as she slid over the bar and out into the open ocean. Then her bow dipped downward and her stern swooped up as she fell over the wave. Battered, most of her larboard rail in pieces, holes gaping in her sails, she plunged out into freedom. Ran, scarred, scratched and scathed, eight men dead, a further eighteen wounded, but she was afloat and she was free.

Calls, obscene jeers and shouts, cheers, as her sails filled in great, curving billows of thundering canvas that spread grey and elegant against the night sky. Nassau was falling astern and
Sea Witch
was through the danger. Broken, battered, but through.

Tiola let her go. Pulling away, she released the ship from the encompassing mist, sent her out into the dark night and the flickering illumination of the storm, which was beginning to abate, the rain easing, the thunder rolling away. She watched as the jib sails began to creep up the forestay. A wash of spray hurled over her bow and
Sea Witch
was gathering way, her beloved captain taking the helm, urging her into the exhilaration of a full gallop.

Tears were running down Tiola’s face. She could not read the future, could no more tell what may happen the next year, month, day or minute than could any mortal man or woman, but she knew she was losing him, had lost him. The sea would always call louder than could she.

~
Take care Jesamiah. I can do no more for you.
~

He did not hear. Did not answer.

~
His mind is on his ship, Witch Woman. He has forgotten you.
~

~
No Rain, he will never forget me, but you are right his mind, his love, is with his ship, not me
. ~

Rain pattered down in a steady drizzle, aware that this human male had assumed she was the witch, had not seen her for what she was, the spirit of the rain.

~
My mother wants to keep him for her own. She wants me to help her.
~

~
I will prevent you.
~

~
Even though he has left you and returned to the sea?
~ Rain was genuinely puzzled at the Witch Woman’s answer.

~
Yes. Even then, for I love him without restraint or condition.
~

The men had hurried inside with the sudden downpour. From the inside the open balcony doors Captain Henry Jennings called to Tiola.

“Come inside my dear, you will catch your death.” He had her shawl in his hand, stepped on to the balcony, holding it out to her.

Tiola heard him as her soul passed easily back into the mortal host of her body. She stood, her hands, knuckles white, gripping the balcony rails watching Jesamiah go.

“My dear?”

Tiola turned, a look of anguish covering her face. “He has gone,” she whispered.

“He will come back, I assure you.”

“No. She may not let him.”

Jennings looked puzzled. “She?”

Confused, her mind tired and disorientated from the trauma of astral detachment Tiola stepped towards him. “The rain, the sea, they will try to prevent him.”

Jennings chuckled, held out her shawl. “He is a competent sailor, my dear. He is in no danger.”

Tiola turned around quickly to look at where
Sea Witch
was fading into the darkness of the Atlantic and her shoe, a fancy indoor velvet slipper, slid on the rain-wet tiles of the balcony floor. She fell, tumbling backwards with a small, surprised cry. Her head thumped against the iron railings, and as the world and the stars spun in a dizzying swirl, she heard Tethys laugh triumphantly. Heard nothing more.

Jesamiah glanced forward to the bow intending to thank the spirit-woman, whoever she was, for her help. Tiola must have sent her, but there was nothing there now except the rain-slick decks as the water drained in torrents out of the scuppers. Below, the men were already at the pumps; he could hear the steady
thump, thump, thump
as they siphoned away the water that had sluiced in. He would go down in a minute, inspect the damage – although from what he could see up here, there was surprisingly little. Nothing that Chippy, the carpenter, could not fix.

He looked astern once, in the general direction of where the Governor’s house squatted up there on the hill. Was she watching? Could Tiola see him sailing away?

~
I will be back, my darling. I promise you. As soon as I can I will come back for you. Somehow.
~

He shouted a few more orders, put the helm down and sent
Sea Witch
towards Hispaniola.