nothing else would suffice.
The deck was soon slippery with blood, and as John climbed the rigging and gained the deck of the Spanish ship, he saw more carnage than had met his eyes since the Netherland's campaign. One man was trying to push his intestines back with what remained of his right hand, but the gash in his head poured forth such a flood of gore that he bled to death before he was able to accomplish his objective and lay on the deck, dead, his guts still clutched in his hand. And another man had been pinned to the bulwark by a mariner's pike, and hung there screaming. What had become of the man who left his weapon in such an unlikely spot, who could tell?
The fight was quickly under control, the Spanish having little heart for it once they saw the toll that had been taken of their mates. John assigned a crew to run her in behind him, and ordered that her captain should be brought to his cabin.
He waited, but the Spanish captain could not be found. It was thought he had been killed and fallen overboard, but this soon proved to be a fallacy.
The sound of a great explosion brought John out of his cabin at a dead run. The galleon had lurched sharply and was now held by less than half the grappling irons, the other's having been yanked out when she listed. John shouted to the men clinging to her rail then stormed back into his cabin.
On receiving a full report of the occurrence from his mate, he cursed himself and the Spanish captain till he was hoarse.
It now seemed that one of the Spanish seamen remembered seeing his captain dash into the powder room shortly after they were boarded. No one saw him come out again. The ship that had been in the lee of the Dart had maneuvered enough to catch the wind again, but instead of coming to the aid of her fellow had raced straight for the open sea. Apparently the captain of the ship under fire, seeing himself deserted, had hidden in the powder room to await the outcome of the hand-to-hand slaughter that raged on his decks. Whether by accident or design, he had set the powder alight and blown himself and half his ship to buggery, to say nothing of several good English seamen who had been on board her at the time.
There was no hope of sailing her home as a prize, since she was sinking fast. The only thing to be done now was to unload her cargo onto The Gay Dart and get free before she pulled them down with her.
John was still sitting in his cabin cursing man and heaven for the loss of the galleon, when there was a respectful knock on the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened cautiously and his second mate stepped inside.
“She's going down fast, Captain, but we've cleared her hold and we're under way.” He knew his captain was in vile humor, but risked a slight smile. “Christ, she must have been carrying half the bullion in South America. Let the bloody wash tub sink. We've got plunder in plenty.”
John allowed himself to relax a little. The officer before him was not much more than a boy, but he was shrewd and if he said the booty was rich, it undoubtedly was.
“Good. Many lost?”
The officer's smile vanished. “Some. More in the blast than in the fight. We've commandeered what's left of the Spaniard's crew, and we'll manage. Don't think much of their seamanship, but the bastards can learn.”
Having served as a seaman himself, John did not take lightly to the slaughter of his men. That some might die in boarding was taken for granted, but to be blown to heaven (or, most likely, hell) by a stupid bastard who was either fool or coward was something else.
“I'd flay their whole damned crew if we didn't need them,” he growled. “Anything else?”
The mate raised one eyebrow. “Well, yes. Rather. There's a woman being held-the captain's wife I believe. Would you care to see her?”
Though the Spaniards considered him a pirate, a scoundrel and a villain, John was only partly the former, and certainly not either of the latter. The Spanish woman would be held for ransom, naturally, but she would be shown every courtesy.
“Bring her in.” He sighed. “She could have had her own cabin if her bloody husband hadn't blown it up. Now, I guess I'll have to give her mine.”
The young mate looked mournful. “And you'll take the first mate's, and he'll take mine, and I'll sleep on the hard deck.”
“Piss off, you whoreson, or you'll sleep with the fishes!” Fothering roared, then laughed. “We'll work something out. Is she pretty?”
“Gorgeous!” the mate replied. “Beautiful! And as lousy tempered as a fish-wife. If you plan to bed her, watch your back. Her tongue's sharper than any dagger I've seen.”
“I'll bear it in mind. Now show her in, instead of taking liberties with your captain, Mr. Nation.”
Mr. Nation bowed low and backed out of the door. He was undoubtedly impertinent, but he was a good officer and would some day make a good captain, if he lived that long.
A moment later there was another tap at the door and Nation ushered in the woman, then left hastily.
John looked up. The woman in front of him was indeed beautiful. She was in her twenties, no longer a girl, but slender and blooming. Her jet hair was piled high on her head and her black eyes flashed.
“Donna Maria De Palacio Ibafiez.”
John stood up and bowed.
“Captain John Fothering.”
He held a chair for her and she sat down. Her gown was cut even lower than was usual in English society, and John caught a quick glimpse of pink nipple before he, too, sat down.
“You are, I understand, the wife, or rather widow of Captain De Palacio Ibafiez?”
She threw her head back, unconsciously displaying to best advantage the smooth whiteness of her throat.
“I am his widow.” Her English was excellent. “I do not profess to you that he was the perfect husband, but now you stinking English filth have robbed me of even of that poor antique bungler.”
John smiled. “My commiserations, Madam, but had your late husband not been such a bungler, he would still be with you. It was he, not I, that lit the powder.” He paused. “You do not seem too distressed. Is that because of the “antiquity” you mentioned?”
“He was old, yes, but he was also very rich.” She leaped to her feet. “Damn you, half the gold bullion you have in your hold is mine! Filth! Scum! Robber of defenseless women!”
She cleared his table with a sweep of her hand, sending papers, tumblers and a pitcher crashing to the floor.
“Careful! The water in that pitcher was “robbed” along with the gold, and there isn't enough of it to waste.” John laughed as she sat down again in outraged silence. “It would seem that you are more bereaved by the loss of your treasure than by the of your husband. However, you are mistaken when you call me a 'robber of women.' It was the ship I robbed, if you like, but never could I bring myself to steal anything from a woman as beautiful as you, except, perhaps, her heart.”
Donna Maria turned towards him, a smile lifting her red lips.
“Then you will return my treasure to me?”
John laughed again. “I will not. As I said, it was not taken from you, but from the ship. It will remain in my keeping, and so will you until such time as you are ransomed.”
Donna Maria stood up again, sneering. “It is as I expected. English swine. Am I to be raped, as well?”
“You will be given every comfort. If rape is essential to your well-being, then you shall have that, as well. Otherwise, your doubtless lovely body shall remain yours to do with as you will.”
John ducked as the pitcher was retrieved from the floor and went sailing past his head.
“Madam! If you persist in breaking up the cabin, God only knows where you are going to sleep.”
For the next few days John did, indeed, take the first mate's cabin. He sent the Donna a standing invitation to share dinner with him, but was turned down flat. The poor steward in charge of her comfort brought him reports of villainous temper and foul language, and his last report was that she refused to keep to her cabin and was parading the deck, sweeping past the sailors at such close range that she brushed them with her skirts.
“They been away a long time, Captain,” the steward concluded, “and they all be woman-hungry. I'm afeared she'll come t' harm by them, wit her perfumes and brushin' by so close.”
