The Time Pirate (48 page)

“Me own knife, you cursed little bugger. Where did you get it?”

“You stuck a ransom note to my door with it once. At the lighthouse on Greybeard Island. I've had it ever since.”

“Stuck it in me bloody leg in that melee aboard
Mystère
in 1805, didn't ye?”

“I was obliged to. You were about to kill my friend Lord Hawke.”

“Only a matter of time afore I do kill him. Now, cut me loose, damn yer hide, boy, and let's be done with this.”

“General,” Nick said, “begging your pardon, sir, but you should know that Captain Blood here is in possession of a second Tempus Machina, identical to my own. Now would be an ideal time to relieve him of it.”

“Is what the boy says true?”

“Aye, but you'll not get it from me. I'll die afore I give it up. A warning to you both. Should I die, my mate, Snake Eye, will use the orb to track you two to the ends of the earth to avenge my murder.”

“It's true, sir,” Nick said, “Until we have both orbs, we cannot rest; nor can we—”

Lafayette said, “Nick, listen, there's no time at all for this now. General Washington awaits us, and history's clock is ticking. Perhaps later, when victory over the pirates is ours, we can search for the second orb. But we must hurry now and secure the enemy crew!”

Half an hour later, it was done. The entire crew of the
Revenge
, with the exception of her captain and the few absolutely essential mates and sail trimmers needed to sail the vessel, had been force-marched by the marines into the cavernous for'ard hold and locked inside. Two marines, stationed on deck at the open hatch above the hold, had orders to
shoot any man who made a sound during their stealthy approach to the waiting fleet.

Lafayette and Nick had captured the great pirate ship without firing a shot.
Revenge
rode at anchor, solitary, near the northern edge of the pirate fleet. The wind was freshening, whitecaps ruffling the sea, and Nick, now on the quarterdeck, saw this as a sign of a benign Providence. Washington, Nick had read in the history books, had often said the Americans would never have been victorious without the helping hand of God. And here perhaps was proof of that statement.

To his left, in the distance, Nick could make out the few lights of a sleeping Nassau Town. Behind him to the south, and well out of sight, Nick knew, were an impatient Admiral de Grasse and his fleet, waiting for a single rocket to be fired across the sky, the signal to race north and engage the enemy. The rocket would also be a signal to Valois to cease his dangerous work and race southward toward de Grasse's oncoming fleet. And reboard the
Ville de Paris
.

Looking southward, Nick could see the thick forest of masts and the darkened hulls of pirate ships beneath them. Nick strained to see Valois, and he finally sighted the silhouette of his small gig racing to and fro amongst the sterns of pirate ships. Having finished planting bombs throughout the sleeping fleet, he and his men were now hurrying about to light as many of the long time-fuses as possible.

On the main deck below him, Nick saw the four gun crews brought over from the
Ville de Paris
feverishly loading the pirate vessel's cannon for the coming battle.

On the quarterdeck of
Revenge
stood Lafayette, Blood, and Nicholas McIver. Blood's pirate helmsman was at the wheel, eyeing the muskets of the marines leveled in his direction lest he attempt something stupid.

“Haul down the Jolly Roger, Blood, and raise this ensign in its place,” Lafayette said, handing Blood the pure white flag of France.

Blood murmured angrily but, with a prod from a marine musket, did as he was told.

“Good,” Lafayette said, watching with some pride as his beloved flag, fluttering in the stiffening breeze, was hauled aloft. “You have now surrendered your ship. You are now a prisoner aboard my ship, Captain Blood, and you will do exactly as you are told. Order the remaining crew in the rigging to spread all canvas, every yard of sail she'll carry. And have men standing by the for'ard windlass, ready to weigh anchor at my order. Do it now, Captain!”

Blood shouted out orders to his remaining crewmen, and soon the rustle and snap of canvas could be heard as the trimmers high atop the mainmast let fall the mainsail, main topsail, and main topgallant. Trimmers in the foremast and mizzen rigging did the same. Soon
Revenge
was wearing a full suit of sail, from the flying jib on the bowsprit to mizzen-mast sails aft. And the wind was still filling in nicely.
Revenge
began to move.

“Weigh anchor and make for the fleet,” Lafayette said quietly, and Blood passed the word forward to the windlass crew. Nick soon heard the grinding of the great wooden drum as it wound the heavy anchor line and chain up from the deep. Once the anchor itself was hauled up and secured, Lafayette stepped forward to give orders to the helm. “Helmsman, come right, zero-ten-zero degrees south. On my order, bring her hard right on a course due south. The man looked at him, incredulous. “You heard me. We're going to sail her right through the middle of that bloody pirate fleet.”

“Aye,” the man said, this bizarre order filling him with dread.
All Blood's shipmates would see that white flag fluttering at the top and they'd open fire. One ship against a hundred? Suicide.

Lafayette put a hand on Nick's shoulder. “Nick, quickly for'ard with you now. Instruct all four of our gun crews to await my signal as planned. They're to hold their fire until we're well inside the main body of the pirate ships. That fleet is a sleeping giant now, but I want
Revenge
at flank speed when we run that gauntlet. The pirate crews will wake soon enough when those time bombs and our cannon start roaring and lead starts flying.”

As Nick ran for'ard, he could feel the great ship beneath his feet gradually getting under way. Slowly at first but gathering speed as she caught the wind. She heeled over to starboard, and the trimmers got the sails properly trimmed for the heading. He could hear the rush of water thrown off to either side of her bows.

He heard a loud explosion aft and looked over his shoulder. Lafayette had fired the flaming signal rocket, streaking up into the heavens, trailing a plume of fire. Nick knew that Admiral de Grasse, spotting the fiery rocket against the dark blue sky, would heave into sight behind them at any moment as his French fleet raced northward to join the captured
Revenge
sailing into the jaws of battle.

S
teady, now, steady,” Lafayette whispered to the grizzled old helmsman as
Revenge
sailed on toward the ships of the Brethren of Blood. The pirate armada seemed to stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. Still, all was quiet, dark, and peaceful under the starlit tropic sky. The only light coming from the sleeping fleet was the oil lanterns swinging at the bow and stern of every ship. The only sounds Nick heard were the lazy slap of canvas and the creak of rigging. But the wind was freshening; a good breeze for a fight.

Nick had relayed Lafayette's orders to the French gun crews on the main deck and had returned to the quarterdeck. Blood's eyes flared at the very sight of him and he spat, missing Nick's face by inches. Lafayette instantly drew his sword, the flat of its blade at Blood's neck.

“Your life is already hanging by a thread, Captain Blood. Insult the boy again and I cut the thread gladly.”

The mood of the small group at the helm of
Revenge
was tense. Every man and boy knew what they were about to attempt was audacious to the point of lunacy. It was one thing for a warship to sail unannounced into an enemy harbor, quickly do as much damage as possible, and then, with any
luck, escape with minimum damage and make for the open seas.

But a small fleet, outnumbered at least four to one, sailing straight into the heart of a massive enemy flotilla out at sea? No naval man in his right mind would dare attempt such a suicidal engagement.

Yet it had to be done. All aboard knew it was the only way Admiral de Grasse could ever hope to slip the French fleet safely through the pirate ambush; and surely the only way the French squadron could possibly reach the Chesapeake in time to help eke out a great victory for the allied American and French armies.

Lafayette was well aware that in the entire course of the long and bloody American Revolution, this one single battle at Yorktown and the ultimate defeat of Cornwallis could forever end Britain's hope for victory over her rebellious colonies. But first they had to win the bloody thing.

On
Revenge
's main deck, Lafayette's gun crews stood at the ready, matches already lit. Two crews on the starboard side, two to port. Despite the shortage of manpower, every cannon was loaded with either ball or grapeshot. When things got spicy, the gun crews would dash from cannon to cannon, fire, and then race to the next. Aloft, high in the rigging, were the marine sharpshooters, each man armed with multiple muskets. When the battle commenced, it would fall to them to pick off the dazed pirates as they emerged from below decks.

Lafayette fervently hoped his sharpshooters would induce fear and panic amongst the pirate crewmen still milling below, awaiting their turn to race topside to their battle stations. Thereby gaining precious minutes for de Grasse to get his ships safely through the trap.

“You seem remarkably calm, Nicholas,” Lafayette whispered to the boy beside him. “Lead will fly soon. The air will be thick with it.”

“I've seen battle at sea before, sir, and in the air. It's terrifying enough. Still, I am not afraid to die in the course of doing my duty.”

“In the air, did you say? Don't tell me you've been up in one of those confounded balloons.”

“Actually, no, it was in an aeroplane, sir.”

“What the devil is that?”

“A flying machine.”

“Ah, of course, a flying machine. I don't suppose I'll live long enough to see that.”

“I'm afraid not, sir. 1903.”

Lafayette smiled, shaking his head in wonder, and raised the long spyglass to his eye. The Brethren's massive fleet now loomed ever larger. The nearest ship, straining at her anchor rode, lay a scant thousand yards away. Still no warning shot had been fired, and there was no indication that anyone saw the huge
Revenge
racing toward them. Nick judged she must be making a good ten knots, heeled hard over, the vast acres of canvas above him now filled with wind.

For the moment, none of the men gathered at the helm spoke a word. As men will do before battle, they concerned themselves with private thoughts as they bore down on the enemy at great speed. From their vantage point, the pirate fleet looked like a solid wall. It was hard to spot an opening amongst the countless vessels.

“Shall I ease her sheets, sir? Spill a bit of wind?” the pirate helmsman nervously asked Lafayette, hoping to diminish their speed.

There was no reply. Lafayette clearly had no intention of
slowing down as he sailed
Revenge
directly into the midst of the pirates. A moment later he said, “Bring her right ten degrees on my mark . . . Mark!”

He'd seen his opening. Nick saw it, too, but worried that the width between the stern of one vessel and the anchor line of the next was not nearly sufficient for them to sail through. The pirate helmsman, a weathered and seasoned seaman, examined the narrow entry point with a wary eye but said not a word.

“Helm, what is that nearest vessel?” Lafayette asked. “And how many guns?”

“
Tralee
, sir. Thirty-four guns.”

“Leave her be. And the farther vessel, off our starboard bow?”

“
Dragonfire
, sir. Seventy-four guns.”

“Pass the word forward,” Lafayette said to a marine. “Starboard gun crews open fire when
Dragonfire
comes within range. Rake her with a broadside. Subsequently, all gun crews fire at will. Sharpshooters aloft as well.” The battle was joined and
Revenge
sailed deep into the heart of the enemy, firing with everything she had. The sounds of cannon and musket rent the air with a deafening roar.