The Devil's Tide (14 page)

"That's good advice," Bellamy said, tossing a clutch of red splinters behind him.

"Will he live?" she said, fearing the answer. She didn't like the careless way Bellamy was tearing the wood out of Dillahunt's limbs. His pliers hadn't made it to the face yet. She didn't think she'd be able to watch that.

"Surface wounds, most of them," Bellamy replied offhandedly. "I'll patch them up, but I can't say he won't die of infection, and he's lost a fair deal of blood. And there's always the chance another cannonball will land on our heads and send us all to Davy Jones. Barring all that, he'll live. Until he dies of something else."

That didn't make her feel any better. Bellamy was notorious for his lack of a soothing bedside manner.

"Why are you here?" he asked as he tugged at a stubborn splinter wedged securely in Dillahunt's wrist. "This is no place for a girl."

"I was bored," was all she could think to say. As a cannonball whooshed overhead, she realized how ridiculous that sounded.

"Bored," Bellamy rumbled. "Bored, she says! I hope the sight of gore alleviates your boredom." The splinter slipped free, and blood streamed from the hole, collecting in a growing pool beneath Dillahunt. Calloway felt lightheaded. Just moments ago she had been snuggled next to this man, naked in his arms. Bellamy droned on obliviously. "Silly girl. This is a ship, not a whorehouse."

She flinched as if physically struck. "You do not know me."

"I know you steal into his cabin every night. I have eyes. Two of them, in fact. And I'm not the only one. Some of the men were starting to question the captain's proclivities. They'll be relieved to learn your true gender. They will be so relieved, in fact, that they'll celebrate by raping you. Not that a whore is concerned with rape."

Calloway clenched her fists and pretended that didn't frighten her as much as it did, but her hands trembled uncontrollably. "This whore chooses her clients," she bracingly replied.

"Oh, a high priced whore," he said with a raised eyebrow. "They'll like that even better. Pirates fancy expensive things they can't normally afford."

"Pirates? This is not a pirate ship."

"No, but it is crewed by many former pirates. Surely you know that."

She knew that, but she hadn't really thought about it. She had seen pirates of every shape and size in Nassau, fair and ugly. She had also met many honest sailors, and it was often hard to tell the difference. They were all the same to her.

"When a captain dies," Bellamy continued, "pirates take what was his."

"If any of them so much as touches me, they had better pray this man dies of his injuries." She said a silent prayer of her own to whoever was listening.
Please don't let that happen, for my sake as well as his.

Bellamy raised the pliers to Dillahunt's face, and Calloway turned away, setting her hands on the rail that overlooked the main deck. Nathan was down there, supervising the gunners, pointing out targets. The crew seemed to have accepted his promotion without quarrel. Only a few scowled at him when he gave them an order, but they did as they were instructed. Ogle accepted every order, but the rancid look on his face indicated he would have unhealthy words with Nathan later.

A cannonball bounced across the deck, obliterating a young deckhand's right leg. The boy collapsed onto his side and stared vacantly at what remained of his leg. As comprehension grew, he loosed a low, mournful wail that gradually elevated into high-pitched shrieks, breaking only to take short gasps. Nathan stepped away from him and kept to his duty. "Captain! Captain! Captain!" the boy cried in swift succession, reaching for Nathan.

"It won't grow back," Nathan coldly replied without looking at him. "Stay down until the battle is done."

Calloway heard Nathan say something about "chainshot." A minute later, Ogle's gunnery crew fired two cannonballs at once that spiraled through the air on a three-foot chain. The chain tore through three crewmen and finally wrapped around a fourth man's torso, spiraling him into the water beyond. "That's it!" Nathan bellowed, clenching his lone fist. "Do that again!"

He's enjoying this,
Calloway thought.
He has no idea how much he's enjoying this.

"Captain! Captain! Captain!" said the maimed boy. He had crawled over to Nathan and was clutching his leg.

Nathan kicked the boy away. "Crawl to safety, man!"

Two deckhands seized the one-legged boy and dragged him to a less crowded spot.

Nathan turned to the gunners. "Now put her at the bottom of the sea!" They aimed the cannons downward, firing relentlessly. The enemy ship was listing on its portside, pieces of it tearing free and crumbling into the sea. Smoke wafted from dozens of holes pitted along the hull.

Three long planks suddenly extended forward, slapping down on
Crusader's
rails. Shadowed pirates leapt onto the planks and scrambled over.
Crusader's
crew drew their pistols, firing at them. One pirate's head snapped back, and he tumbled off his plank, lost in the dark abyss between the ships. Nathan took a step back, drawing his sword. "Push those planks off! They're boarding us!"

Ogle and a few others managed to lift one of the planks, but it was heavy with the weight of encroaching pirates, and they could not slide it far enough to one side to free its purchase. "It's no good!" Ogle shouted at Nathan.

"Then kill them all!" Nathan shouted back.

Calloway looked to Bellamy and found him staring back, jaw grimly set. "You'll need this," he said, handing her Dillahunt's pistol. She took it. "And when that fails, you'll need this." He handed her Dillahunt's rapier. "Gun first, then sword. It's easy. Even a girl can do it."

"That's funny," she muttered without an ounce of delight.

"I'm the funniest surgeon you'll ever meet," Bellamy quipped flatly. He drew his pistol and sword as well, standing beside her, in front of Dillahunt's limp form. "You know how to use it? The gun, I mean."

"Yes," she said. One of her clients had shown her how to shoot rocks.

"And the sword?"

She withered. "Grip the shiny sharp part and stick the hilt in their belly?"

"You're funny, too," Bellamy drawled.

"Why do they board?" she asked. "Surely they are too few to take us."

"They're out of options. Our new captain has done his job too well. Now they'll fight like devils, for they have nothing left to lose."

"They could surrender."

Bellamy tittered in annoyance. "A white flag would afford them a long journey back to the gallows and little else. They opt to die like pirates, and I don’t blame them. It's what I would do in their place."

"Why don't they just swim for shore?"

"That swim is longer than it looks. We'd be in our boats and on top of them before they ever got there."

Five grappling hooks shot from the enemy ship like splayed fingers, four of them latching onto the rigging. Pirates swung across, hollering war cries. Two of them were shot in midair and came crashing unceremoniously onto the deck. Both were instantly overwhelmed and impaled by cutlasses. Eight pirates made it successfully onto
Crusader's
deck. They fired pistols and swung their swords. A tall pirate with a bare, muscular chest barreled down on Ogle. Their blades clashed, and Calloway was shocked to see both men grinning. Then Gabe Jenkins stuck his sword in the tall pirate's back, downing him instantly. When Jenkins pulled the sword out, there wasn't nearly as much blood as Calloway had expected. Not at first, anyway.

Ogle shoved Jenkins to deck, screaming, "He was mine!"

Jenkins got back to his feet, tossing a lock of curly hair out of his pretty face with an angry flick of his head. "They're always yours, Ogle!"

Seven remained.

A pirate with a red bandana thrust himself at Nathan. The newly appointed captain dodged to his left and held out his sword, letting the man sweep himself across the blade. Red bandana fell dead.

Six now.

Two pirates fought back-to-back as
Crusader's
crew converged on them. Candler skirted the edge of the swarm, jabbing his cutlass through any gap he could find. On the fourth thrust, the point of his blade found a pirate's belly. Intestines snaked out of him, collecting in shiny curls at his feet. Calloway's mouth dropped open in awe.

"Like that, do you?" Bellamy said, watching her.

She forced herself to look away. "It's gross," she lied.

Candler continued to stab the man long after he was dead. "That's for my good friend, Captain Guy Dillahunt," he declared. "God rest his soul!"

Five.

As his partner sank behind him, the next pirate's back was left undefended, and three swords plunged into him at once. The tip of one sword exploded from his chest, splashing the deck with his blood. He gawked at the blade, face slowly relieving of tension, and then he tumbled forward.

Four.

A very large man—so black that Calloway had trouble keeping track of him in the night—and a thin, distinguished looking pirate were cornered between two canons. As the crew closed on them, they exchanged glances, nodded, and dropped their weapons. "I am Francois Laurent," the thin pirate declared in a thick French accent, "and I know when I am outmatched."

"Of course you're bloody outmatched," Candler sniggered. "Was it you who killed our dear captain?"

"It is entirely possible."

The large black man chuckled at his friend.

Calloway searched for the other two pirates.

A very young, very skinny pirate escaped the swarm, ducking his head low as he made a mad dash for the quarterdeck. His cutlass was dripping red. "Stop that one!" Nathan shouted.

"He killed the cook!" someone cried.

"He skewered Nic Lawsome!" someone else said.

Calloway braced herself, aiming the gun at the stairs. She set her finger against the cold metal of the trigger. Bellamy raised his gun next to hers. "Don't worry," he assured her. "One of us is bound to hit him."

"I look worried?" The barrel of her gun shuddered as she spoke.

The boy made it as far as the second step before he was shot in the back by Candler. He collapsed and slid down the stairs, big round eyes never closing. "That's two!" Candler shouted triumphantly.

"Bah!" Bellamy spat over the rail. "That one was ours!"

Calloway sighed and lowered her gun.

One left. She looked over the main deck. The men were glancing about, swords ready. "Anyone spot him?" Nathan said.

"Don’t know where he got off to," Jenkins said.

"He was a big one," Peter Lively said.

"Maybe he jumped overboard," Candler suggested.

"Someone check the hold," Nathan ordered. He peered up at Calloway, and then his eyes went wide.

A massive hand shot over the rail, clutched Calloway's belt, and wrenched her violently toward the edge. A bearded hulk was crawling up from the main deck, desperation in his eyes. His considerable weight leveraged her waist against the rail. She struggled to aim her pistol, but the pirate easily snatched it out of her grasp and brought the steel pommel down on her skull. The world went fuzzy, and all sound fled her ears. Dillahunt's rapier fell from her other hand. She would have fallen back, but the pirate's hand was firm around her belt. Bloodshot eyes fixated on hers, lips parting from yellow teeth in a macabre grin. He flipped the pistol around and aimed it squarely at her face.

Another hand appeared from behind her, reaching past her, gold bracelets glinting at the wrist. Bellamy grasped the ascending pirate by the throat, shoved the barrel of his pistol into the man's right eye, and squeezed the trigger. Calloway did not hear the crack of the shot. Sparks ignited in the priming pan. The pirate's eye disintegrated, and Bellamy's pistol sank into the red hollow. Brains erupted from the back of the pirate's skull, raining down on the crew. They shielded themselves from the gore, laughing as bits of bone and brain pattered their arms.

The dead man's fingers released Calloway's belt, and he dropped off the rail, and the back of his yawning skull smacked the main deck with a nauseating
squelch
, splattering gooey bits. Calloway collapsed against Bellamy. He made no attempt to hold her, and she slid down his legs, her ass landing on his feet. He kicked her off and circled around, glowering down at her. A mask of smoke rolled over his face, trailing from the barrel of his gun. Calloway couldn't hear anything, but she could easily read the question his lips formed.

"Still bored, girly?"

She gave the robe a slight nudge, allowing it to slip away from her left nipple. Jethro was thoroughly distracted, trailing off mid-sentence. The wooden handle of the pistol had grown hot in her grasp, concealed beneath the sheets with the barrel aimed at his oblivious face. Jethro crossed his legs and licked his lips.

"You were saying?" Edward Teach said from behind his desk. His hand rested on a weathered copy of The Iliad, which he claimed was his favorite book, though Annabelle had never seen him read it. The curtains behind him were parted, and he was framed in the darkness beyond the stern gallery window.

Jethro cleared his throat and returned his attention to Teach. "Apologies," he wheezed. "Your muse is most distracting, she is." The man seemed to have trouble finding the breath to speak, but that never stopped him. When first he had entered the cabin, the setting sun revealed an older man. Now, the dim candlelight favored him, masking the bits of grey that speckled his short hair and mustache. He had taken off his black cap and set it on the desk, and he was strumming the tails of the red ribbon with thumb and forefinger.

"Then she serves her purpose," said Charles Vane, standing tall beside Jethro, hands on the back of his chair. "While your thoughts linger on plunging your cock betwixt those ripe melons, you take no notice of the gun secreted beneath those sheets."

Annabelle sighed, lifting the robe back in place. Jethro looked disappointed to be robbed of his view. Vane smiled self-assuredly.

Teach's beard twitched. "A precaution, nothing more."

"Fuck your caution," Vane spat. "Had you any, you would not pursue a man so trivial as Benjamin Hornigold."