Untitled (3 page)

   "What did you say?" snapped Johnson finally, staring at Hartwell's impassive face.

   Hartwell lifted his eyes and for the first time, Johnson was aware of the deep emotions flashing down beneath the calm exterior.

   "I will not permit any such thing, Admiral," replied Hartwell. "I suspected something was wrong when you ordered us out here, but, fool that I am, I did nothing, instead trusting to the chain of command. No doubt the majority of each crew is with you as you chose them over other, more experienced men, but I will stand against any behaviour that is so repellent and against all codes of honour."

   "I suspected you would take this attitude and I have prepared for it," snapped Johnson. "Both crews are mine and will obey me. Out here, I am the admiralty and can decide your fate as I see fit. That fate is execution as a traitor."

   "You do not have the right or authority to execute anyone without due process," replied Hartwell, his tone as precise and even as when he had ordered coffee that morning.

   "I have the authority here and now and that is all that matters," replied Johnson. "Flavell, Bennet, hold him." Johnson's lackeys moved forward and took Hartwell's arms. They held him tightly despite the fact the arrested captain made no movement of any kind. Instead, he continued to gaze levelly at the admiral.

   "This is illegal, second to the pirate curse we came here to eradicate," he said. "You are an officer of the crown and you owe allegiance not just to the crown but also to the mission that brought us here—the freedom of all peoples from tyranny and oppression."

   "Hurrah!" cried a few voices, including Sporrit and O'Rourke.

   "Disgrace," replied many other voices in dispute, led by Fleetwood.

   "It is all God's Will," opined Pastor White nervously.

   "And God would be ashamed of your actions, Admiral Johnson," snapped a young female voice. Everyone turned and saw Hartwell's sister and ward, Susanna, standing on the deck behind them. Her features were very similar to those of her brother, though rather softer in outline. The big difference lay in her eyes, which flashed with the fire and emotion, which her brother always kept ruthlessly suppressed.

   "Miss Hartwell, it is your brother who is shamed, for he brings destruction upon you and the few fools stupid enough to follow him," shouted Johnson, who felt safer in bullying a young girl of eighteen than he did with any of the crew.

   "Everything my brother has said has filled me with admiration," replied Susanna. "The esteem I hold him in has only grown with his actions today."

   "His actions today have condemned him and you, too, if you are not careful," leered Johnson. Hartwell's head snapped up.

   "My sister has nothing to do with this," he replied, his voice still quiet but now with a tremor hidden deep beneath.

   "She and any of your crew who stand with you will be treated as they deserve," shouted Johnson. "And you deserve execution as treacherous dogs! But first," he added, his voice dropping low as he panted in excitement and lust, "but first, I shall taste of her. Oh yes, she shall be my sweet fruit!"

   Bennett and Flavell looked away, seeing and hearing nothing. Behind, some in the crew leered in delight, while others looked in panic or disgust at the admiral and his lackeys. Hartwell stiffened, but he held his emotions in an iron grip.

   "Repent!" cried Pastor White, shouting at the crowd in general. "All must repent!"

   "All must choose," said Hartwell in a louder voice. "All must choose to die in honour or to live like dogs."

   "I choose honour," shouted Susanna.

   "Then you'll die," leered Fleetwood, licking his reptilian lips. He, like Admiral Johnson, had lusted secretly for the captain's sister since meeting her and had dreamed of the time when he could do to her exactly as he wished. That time had now come.

   "And the rest of the crew must decide for themselves how they are to live," continued Hartwell. "But know that I hold no man in obligation, no man is to be forced down a path except by his own conscience."

   Hartwell turned and looked up at his sister, who gazed back down. Not many could bear to look at the faces of two siblings silently saying how much they loved each other as they faced certain death. Susanna nodded slightly, giving her brother the strength to do what had to be done and stood proud, waiting for her fate.

   "Then this day wears a dark mark, when justice was denied and good people slain by vanity and power," said Susanna. "Bear witness to these deeds, good people."

   "Any who stand against me will die like dogs," screamed Johnson hoarsely. "Today is the last day you will breathe God's pure air! Any who defies me, marks himself traitor and fool!" He turned to the crew. "To arms! Kill them all!"

s soon as the admiral turned, Hartwell thrust upward and pushed his two captors back. They staggered away just far enough for Hartwell to draw his sword in a single, smooth movement, which ended with the tip against the terrified throat of Johnson.

   "Just remember that today your life was spared and think on it," said Hartwell quietly. "Reflect on your ways and improve them." He turned swiftly as Flavell and Bennett drew their swords and faced them down. Neither seemed eager to try to land the first blow and both timidly stabbed at Hartwell, who parried easily. Drawing bolder, Bennett leapt forward, but again, Hartwell easily deflected his stab.

   Hartwell's thoughts centred on his sister. He regretted bringing her out to sea, for surely he had signed her death warrant in doing so, but the death of their aunt, their last surviving relative, combined with Susanna's reluctance to be parted from him, had conspired against them. Hartwell looked up and a chill engulfed him—Fleetwood was running straight toward Susanna, obscene desire stamped on his face. Savagely disabling Flavell before running Bennett through, Hartwell pounded along the ship, determined to reach Susanna first.

   Fortunately, Susanna was well aware of Fleetwood's approach. She pulled a short length of heavy netting from the side of the vessel and swung it at Fleetwood's head. The netting enveloped him and he tripped and fell heavily, injuring himself. Susanna rushed over to him, grabbed his sword and swung it at the next man who tried to grab her, slashing his face open. He fell with a howl as Susanna wielded the sword with surprising skill.

   Around them, a small insurrection was breaking out. The majority of the crew supported Johnson and his plans for a private slave trade, emphasising the forward-planning Johnson had put in motion. The few rebels, including Fitch, Sporrit, O'Rourke and Tench, were those who had served with Hartwell before and shared his values, but the small band of mutineers was hopelessly outnumbered.

   As the fighting continued, Madrigal made his way to the side of the ship closest to his own vessel, pausing here and there to help the rebels in their battle. He tore his red waistcoat from his body and waved it up and down. Immediately, the ancient galleon swung about, her huge sails catching the minimal breeze and began to bear down on the Pr
ide of Plymouth.

   "Men!" screamed Johnson. "Execute that crew of damn black devils!"

   The assembled sailors scattered, some running to the cannons while others grabbed their rifles. A fusillade of artillery flew out, striking the side of Madrigal's ship, piercing the sails and felling most of the small crew. The cannons boomed and caused further damage, blowing gaping holes in the upper parts of the galleon.

   "No!" screamed Madrigal in anguish as he saw his friends and followers killed, shot down with no chance of survival. His ship carried upward of seventy cannons, but the crew was hardly large enough to sail the vessel and the cannons stood untended.

   Hartwell swung his blade and killed another of his former crew as the man lunged at him, but as he fell, so another took his place. Susanna was flailing at another man who was threatening her, O'Rourke was pinned down by three burly sailors, Sporrit was trapped against one of the masts, while Fitch and Tench were pinned back against the starboard hull, their former crewmates grinning in derision, forcing them backward in the hope of watching the men fall into the sea.

   Escape seemed hopeless, survival impossible, but at that point, the sky darkened, a scream unlike any ever heard on Earth silenced the sound of the battle and a blazing fireball appeared in the sky and hurtled straight down toward the Pr
ide of
Plymouth.

veryone on the three ships gaped upward, many falling to their knees in fear. This surpassed any maritime legend of sea serpents or sirens. The enormous, blazing ball of fire hurtled toward them, trailing black smoke which covered the entire sky and sank down to meet the white mist of the sea, where the two elements twirled around each other and enclosed the entire area.