Defying a Pirate Read online

  Defying a Pirate

  By Camille Oster

  Copyright 2013 Camille Oster

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements:

  To Heather for her help.

  Camille Oster - Author

  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camille-Oster/489718877729579

  @Camille_Oster

  [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  Rum Cay, Bahamas 1715

  Gemma stood on deck next to Vivecka as they watched the covered body of the Captain being carried off the ship on a stretcher. The older man, who'd promised to take care of them on their journey back to England, had died in his sleep. His heart, the surgeon had said. They hadn’t intended to divert to this Island, with its more questionable reputation, but it couldn’t be helped as the Captain's sudden demise meant they needed to bury him somewhere before they crossed the Atlantic.

  “It's awful we have to leave him here,” Vivecka said.

  “Else we’d have to dump him in the sea, but at least here he will have a Christian burial,” Lieutenant Hashforth said offering to hold Vivecka’s umbrella against the harsh Caribbean sun.

  “It would be awful just to be dumped at sea—how undignified,” Vivicka said with obvious distaste.

  “These events are unfortunate, but never fear, we will be on our way soon,” the young man stated, straightening his uniform. “We better leave soon; we don’t want to stay here too long. Don’t worry ladies, the marines are guarding the ship well, but we’d better be off before dark. Now I must speak to the Sailing Master.”

  “Does that mean Lieutenant Hashforth is now Captain?” Vivecka asked Gemma once their companion had moved further down the deck of the ship.

  “Acting, although I believe the turn of events has promoted him to Lieutenant Commander,” Gemma replied.

  “Isn’t he dashing? Lieutenant Commander sounds so formidable,” Vivecka’s eyes followed him as he walked down to the bow of the ship.

  “He is young. I have no doubt he will be a Captain one day, but he is barely two years into his commission.”

  It was good weather for sailing. At least in that respect, they'd been lucky, Gemma thought as she walked about the deck after supper. It would be a long voyage back, but the ship was sufficiently well-appointed for passengers, to make sure they had a comfortable journey.

  Having left Vivecka in the dining room with Lieutenant Hashforth and Mrs. Gulliver, Gemma had stolen some time to herself. While Vivecka wasn’t officially Gemma’s charge, she felt that way sometimes, having kept her cousin company for over a year during the girl’s stay in Port Royal with her father. Being a generous man, Gemma's uncle had agreed to take her in after the death of her own father just over a year ago. She'd barely had time to mourn before she was carried off to Jamaica; an adventure of which her father would have wholeheartedly approved. Loving quiet study, he wasn’t a man for actual adventure, but even her father’s more sedate nature had not inoculated him against the family’s long-standing interest in all things military. Undoubtedly, he knew every naval battle that had ever been fought in the history of the world and as they had little else in common, Gemma had grown to share his study if only for the purpose of having a common interest with him.

  Their lovely life together would make it sad for Gemma to go back to London to realize his very real absence. His modest Mayfair house had been inherited by a second cousin that Gemma didn’t know, but she'd been reassured she'd always have a place in her Uncle’s house. A handsome dowry was at her disposal too, if ever a young man would take her interest in a sufficiently serious manner.

  Returning to London meant that she would have to give some serious consideration to her marriage prospects. It wasn’t as if she felt any great impetus for marriage, but she knew her Uncle would be disappointed in her if she never managed to leave his house. Vivecka was ready for marriage even though she was a whole four years younger at eighteen. She had no lack of suitors either and they were smitten by Vivecka’s abundant charm as well as her well-appointed dowry. Gemma’s attributes were more modest on both accounts. It wasn’t as though she had any flaws; she just didn’t seem to be able to attract male attention the way Vivecka did, but then Gemma’s refusal to simper or flirt in any meaningful way might have something to do with it.

  The ship groaned and creaked as they gently cut through the dark waves. It was a large vessel, a naval vessel that specialized in sailing long voyages from England, to wherever it was needed, and back. Not a particularly fast one as far as ships go, but it was steady and constant like a trusted workhorse.

  Gemma had forgotten about the constant movement of the water underneath the ship and she thanked heaven that her stomach was sturdy. Vivecka wasn’t always as steady at sea and the voyage would be more difficult for her as a result. At least the attention of Lieutenant Hashforth would serve to distract her. Vivecka’s constitution tended to be more sturdy when there was a handsome male audience.

  After a walk around the deck, Gemma retreated down to the cabin she shared with Vivecka.

  “I’m going to hate every moment of this journey,” Vivecka complained.

  “No you won’t,” Gemma tried to reassure her, while knowing it was likely the case.

  “But it will be worth it.” Vivecka tried to sound cheery. “It will be so nice to be back in London, where there is actual life.”

  “There is life in Port Royal.”

  “Boring life. It was the dullest place in the world. There was nothing to do.”

  Admittedly, their social circle in Port Royal had been small and it was split between women who loved being in the tropical heat and life away from England, and the ones who hated everything about the Caribbean. Gemma had loved it; she loved the light dresses and the complete absence of cold. But light dresses didn’t make for the best fashion—one never got a good skirt with a light gown.

  “In London, the balls are huge, aren't they?”

  “They are.” Gemma confirmed as she'd done so many times before. Vivecka had made her recount every second of the three balls she'd attended before her father had died. They’d gone to balls in Port Royal, but they didn’t count in Vivecka’s book—perhaps because they only included commissioned officers and not the kind of men that Vivecka wanted to meet. She had her eyes set on a dashing lord with a magnificent estate—men who didn’t generally travel to the Caribbean.

  They both squeezed into the small bed and Gemma stared out of the small porthole at the large moon as it bobbed into sight and away again with the movement of the ship. She’d also forgotten how noisy a ship was as it constantly creaked and groaned—the all-pervasive smell of tar and the salt which covered everything. There was no way of feeling clean on a ship.

  Gemma woke to the sound of men running and it concerned her as men didn’t run on ships as far as she'd experienced. Something must have happened. Looking out the porthole, she saw the barest lights of dawn.

  As she dressed, she wondered whether she should wake Vivecka. She listened to the activity on the deck above them. There were definitely men running and not just one—something was definitely out of the ordinary.

  “Vivecka wake up,” she said sharply to her cousin.

  Vivecka rolled over and grumbled. “I’ve just managed to get to sleep on this God-forsaken boat; I’m not getting up now.”

  “Something has happened. I’m going upstairs to see what's going on.”

  “Try to be quiet on your return, will you?” Vivec
ka said sulkily.

  Perhaps it was best that Vivecka slept through whatever it was. Gemma hoped they weren’t sailing into a storm because that would make for an awful and dangerous day.

  Having pulled on her white muslin dress, she left the cabin, but felt she didn’t have patience to dress her hair so she left it loose, which was not a practical state on a windy ship, but it couldn't be helped.

  She almost got bowled over by a sailor running in the hall outside her cabin before managing to make her way up the hall and the stairs leading to the deck. The wind whipped at her hair, it wasn't strong enough to indicate a storm, but men were still running around and Gemma made her way onto the quarterdeck where Lieutenant Hashforth was surveying the distance with his spyglass. Gemma followed the direction of his sight and spotted a ship on the horizon.

  “What is that?” Gemma asked. This ship obviously had them worried, which made her worried. She knew instantly what her strongest fear would be.

  “Pirates,” the Lieutenant said, confirming her dread. She looked back on the ship that was looming on the horizon. “It’s coming up fast.”

  “You think he’s coming for us?”

  “I believe so,” he said and collapsed his spyglass and took a step to turn, then changed his mind. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. “I suppose the men must prepare.”

  “The men are already preparing,” Gemma stated.

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She could see the fear and confusion in his eyes and she knew he was grossly unprepared for dealing with something like this.

  “We are a big man-o-war in essence, Lieutenant Hashforth. We out-size and out-gun whatever he has.”

  “A frigate, I believe.”

  “If that is the case, he is much smaller than us,” she said reassuringly—reassurance she didn’t feel because she knew that the pirate likely knew exactly how to outmanoeuvre them with his light and fast ship. All while they were stuck with a junior commanding officer who was completely out of his depth. “It will be fine, you’ll see.”

  Chapter 2

  Gemma watched with dread as the ship moved closer, it really was traveling fast—speeds they couldn’t hope to emulate. Turning around, she watched for Lieutenant Hashforth who was nowhere to be found. She searched for him, not believing that she couldn’t catch sight of him. This was not the time for the commander of the ship to be absent—they were in severe trouble. She couldn’t even think what would happen if they were taken by the pirates. She had no idea who it was chasing them, but she might as well assume that all the men here would finish the day in the ocean with their throats slit and the women wishing they were.

  She thought of Vivecka sleeping peacefully in the cabin and Mrs. Gulliver who was in no way capable of handling a pirate boarding or whatever came after. Lieutenant Hashforth could not abandon his post. Surely, he wouldn’t, she thought.

  Deciding to search for him, she found him in the Captain’s cabin, frantically perusing a stack of books.

  “You’re needed on deck,” she said urgently. He ignored her, still looking through the books.

  “I need to work out what to do,” he said with a frantic edge to his voice. His panic was evident in his sharp but uncertain movements. “We’ve never so much as been approached by pirates while I’ve been on board. The Captain would know what to do. He told me we were too big and too guarded, but here they are.” The man’s voice was high and shrill with his distress.

  “Well, the first imperative is to keep an eye on the enemy, in situations like this,” she said trying to be calm. “And you can’t do that from here. You need to be on deck. The books aren’t going to help you now.”

  “Right,” he said and closed the book he was unseeingly flicking through. He stood up and Gemma could see resignation on his face. “We’ll just do what we can,” he stated and eventually stepped away from the desk. “I don’t have any experience with these things, you see, but we must do what we can.”

  “Yes, that is all anyone can ask,” she said, but really she wanted to strangle him for not being able to handle this. This was their lives and they were all in his hands; he should be capable of protecting them. But she smiled in reassurance and indicated for him to move through, but he didn’t seem to pick up on her cues. “Now!”

  “Right,” he said coming out of his daze. “On deck.”

  She followed him up the stairs and tried to get him to rush, but Lieutenant Hashforth walked calmly. Their own men were standing by awaiting orders; Gemma was aware of them but Lieutenant Hashforth seemed oblivious.

  “Right,” he said when he got to the top deck. Turning, he looked out across the ship. “There he is then.” The pirate ship have moved around them, giving themselves space to avoid the broadside guns, then coming closer in off the starboard bow.

  “You must give your orders,” she urged.

  “They’re taking the lee gauge,” Lieutenant Hashforth said watching the other ship. “What a ridiculous thing to do, he is giving us the advantage.”

  “He doesn’t need the advantage of the wind, Lieutenant Hashforth,” Gemma said. “He is light and manoeuvrable enough that our having the full advantage of the wind will not be a significant benefit for us.”

  “But you are never supposed to give up the upwind position,” he informed her.

  “Yes, with ships of equal size, but we’re not equal. He is light and fast and we are not. Your orders.”

  The first cannon fire sounded, the noise deafening even at their distance. The sound came first before the damage—the sound of splintering wood and screams.

  “See,” Lieutenant Hashforth said, “they are firing too high, missed the hull completely.”

  “They’re not aiming for the hull, Lieutenant; they’re aiming for the rigging. They’re firing chains, Lieutenant. They want the ship, ideally without damage to the hull. We need to return fire. Have the flammables been dumped?”

  The man looked at her with a complete absence of understanding and she watched as it dawned on him. The tar. They had barrels of tar for fortifying the ship and it would burn without any possibility of extinguishing it if hit by cannon fire.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. He turned and shouted at the Master of Marines to dump the tar.

  “Already been done, sir,” the man yelled back. The man still awaiting further orders, but Lieutenant Hashforth was watching the other ship.

  “Prepare to engage,” Gemma yelled to the man from where she stood next to Lieutenant Hashforth. The man looked to the Commander as she had no official right to give him advice let alone orders, but Lieutenant Hashforth wasn’t noticing. The man decided to follow her order in the absence of others coming.

  “Our cannons will never reach him there,” the Lieutenant said.

  “He is aware of that,” Gemma said closing her eyes as they were going through the absolute obvious. Another set of cannon fire explored, firing onto the deck of the ship, luckily missing a marine by mere inches, but hitting the far side of the ship sending splinters across the entire deck. The smoke from the cannon fire obscured the sight between the ships, but Gemma focused her eyes on the enemy even as the acrid smoke made her eyes water and her throat burn.

  Sounds of pain came close by and she looked over to see Lieutenant Hashforth clutching his arm.

  “Where is the surgeon?” she called out into the panic below, where screaming indicated that a few had been injured. She suspected that Lieutenant Hashforth was not the only one here for which they might be the first real engagement. No response came, but she noticed Vivecka peeking out from the door below with complete panic on her face. Mrs. Gulliver was clutching her close. Gemma had never seen true fear on her cousin’s face and she hated the sight of it. A quick thought flashed through her mind regarding her own fear, but she was too worried to feel fear.

  “Go back inside, down below,” she yelled to the two women. “Below the water line where the cannons can’t reach you, as low as you can go.”

&nb
sp; “There is threat of fire if they are below,” Lieutenant Hashforth said through clenched teeth. Gemma noted a fleeting respect for his concern.

  “Yes, but they are in more danger up here, they are firing high, trying to take out the masts and the rigging.”

  The Lieutenant looked ill with his injury and she watched him as he lost consciousness. “Lieutenant!” she said kneeling down by him trying to wake him by patting his cheek. Not only were they stuck with a commander who in essence had no idea what he was doing—now they were stuck with an unconscious one. It really couldn’t get any worse. “Get the Lieutenant to the surgeon,” she called out. Two young men scrambled up the stairs and carted off the unconscious form of the Lieutenant.

  The ship went completely quiet as everyone realized what had happened. The Master of Sailing and the Master of Marines were staring between each other and her.

  “Prepare to fire,” she said to the Master of Marines.

  “On the portside?” the Master of Sailing asked.

  “No, that is what he expects, on the starboard.”

  “That will place him at our bow, where he could fire through the length of the ship.”

  Gemma knew this was a position where the maximum damage was done and a position he would want now that they were engaging fully.

  “He expects us to position ourselves that way and he will not allow himself to face our broadside, we’ll never reach him on the portside with his speed. If we move hard to the portside now, we might take him unawares as he moves to where he expects us to be; he will face our starboard cannons. Fire the forward cannons to obscure our movements.”

  They stood for a moment longer, then decided to enact her orders. They had no reason to, but a ship needed a commander and there was none other to be had. Her tactic made sense and she knew the most successful tactics were the ones that took the enemy by surprise. Well, she knew so in theory and even though she had told Lieutenant Hashforth that books would not help him, everything she knew of naval engagements was from books. She’d desperately wished he would find his stride, but he’d seemed too scatter-brained to give proper orders, and now it seemed the crew were happy to take any orders as all. No doubt their desperation to escape the pirates’ clutches was just as strong as hers.