The Reaper

“You vulgar dog,” Anthony said, quickly easing the hammer down to the half-cock.

“Nay cap’n,” Bart said, still calling Anthony cap’n and not commodore. “Just looking out for the lady’s interest.”

Anthony then remembered Davy was still aloft. “Mr. Davy, bring yourself down if you please and take station by the master.”

“Aye, sir,” Davy replied. Then he came sliding down the backstay with such speed it startled Anthony. Gone was the timid boy who reported on board a few months ago. Davy was now a seasoned midshipman.

Drakkar groaned as she touched with the schooner. “Boarders away, boarders away.” Mr. Pitts and his group poured over onto the smaller ship, cutting down all resistance as they went, Lieutenant Dunn’s marine sharpshooters were making their presence felt as well.

A torrent of curses and groans, some English and some in French came from every quarter. Musket and pistol shots filled the air, the smoke from the shots leaving a pungent odor that burnt the eyes and nostrils. Clang-clang metal on metal as cutlass encountered cutlass, bright metal turning dark from blood and gore.

“To me,” Buck screamed as he deflected a boarding pike, then with a quick maneuver slashed at the man attacking him. The slash opened up the man’s belly spilling his innards onto the deck. Mercifully, one of Drakkar’s marines shot the man, ending his agony.

As Anthony stepped over a body a man jumped up from one of the cannons and with a savage laugh attacked him. The attack was over before it began as Mr. Pitts quickly shot the man with his pistol.

He then calmly volunteered, “Sounded like a bloody maniac, captain.”

Drakkar’s crew continued to surge forward against the pirates. However, they’d not given up yet.

Gabe and Earl found themselves back to back, fending off two attackers. One of the rogues struck a heavy blow that felled Earl, leaving Gabe to protect his friend and fend for himself. At that moment Dagan came into view. Seeing Gabe’s predicament created a sense of urgency in Dagan. He attacked the foe before him with such savagery Anthony almost felt sorrow for the fellow. The brute lunged at Dagan, whom deflected the other’s cutlass. Then with a ferocious blow, completely beheaded the man. Dispatching this opponent brought Dagan to Gabe’s side, who was still fending off the two attackers at once. Dagan’s blade was a large broadsword. His next swing caused the heavy blade to completely sever his opponent’s arm. It fell to the deck lifeless, its fingers still clutching the hilt of its blade. The wounded fellow was in shock, looking at the stump that a moment ago had been his arm. As blood spurted from severed arteries, the man turned white then collapsed, dead before he hit the deck.

The overwhelming numbers from Drakkar and her consorts soon overran all resistance. One of the survivors was a man in a filthy uniform coat of a French naval lieutenant. He had laid down his weapons and cried for mercy. Gabe pointed at the red flag still flying aloft and shouted, “You dare beg for mercy while flying the red flag?” He spat in disgust and turned his attention to Lieutenant Earl. Anthony walked up just as Gabe helped Earl to his feet.

Earl reached up and touched the side of his head. Blood had started to congeal, but when he touched his head it started to ooze again. Wincing as he touched the nasty cut, Earl pulled his bloody hand away.

Gabe snickered at the sight. “Damme Stephen. The rogue has lopped off the top of your ear. I hope your hat still fits.”

Earl looked at Gabe and said, “Aye, but for you he’d have had my whole damn head.”

Dunn’s marines, along with a few of the hands from the boarding party, had rounded up the last of the surviving pirates. The dead ones were unceremoniously tossed over the side. “Give the sharks a bellyache,” Bart had said. Anthony also noticed, but chose to ignore that the dead pirates were being relieved of anything of value prior to becoming shark bait.

A thorough search was made of the ship, resulting in Mr. Markham’s find. “Sir, we’ve found some very official looking papers. They’re written in French. There’s also a small chest with specie and one with a few gems and the like, such as a lady would wear.”

Anthony followed Markham down to the pirate captain’s cabin and was surprised but glad to see the midshipman had taken the initiative to put a marine guard at the door. There were several letters as Markham had mentioned. Anthony could only make out a few words here and there as the letters were soiled with food and drink; however, one letter appeared to be talking about a fifty-gun frigate. It also contained a page that was better cared for than the rest and it was filled with dates in one column and numbers in another column.

Markham volunteered, “It appears like code, sir, for a rendezvous on certain dates-but where? I think the number represents a location.” Anthony agreed with Markham ’s assessment.

“Look here, sir,” Markham had picked up another paper. At the top was the word “Reaper.” Then under one column was 27-28 June and across from it in another column the single digit “six.” A very valuable clue and a very simple code, but without more information it would be impossible to break.

Anthony turned to a bosun’s mate close by. “My compliments to Lieutenant Dunn. Ask him to have that French speaking prisoner in the navy coat brought up on deck and held by Drakkar’s main mast.”

“Aye, sir,” then the sailor was gone.

“Do you speak French, Mr. Markham?” Anthony asked.

“Only a little, sir.”

“It will have to do. I don’t want the prisoner to know that I do, so you will act as my interpreter.”

“Aye, sir.”

Once Anthony and his accompanying officers got back on Drakkar he found Lieutenant Dunn had the pirate trussed up and under guard.

“Mr. Buck.”

“Aye sir.”

“Assemble the crew to witness punishment.”

Buck looked at Anthony somewhat bewildered. “Punishment, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Buck, a hanging,” Anthony replied, certain that the French pirate understood more English than he let on. Well, he could think on that.

“A hanging, sir?” Buck questioned.

“Yes, dammit, a hanging,” Anthony snapped. “Here or Antigua makes no difference. His fate was sealed when they attacked the merchantman. Lieutenant Mainard!”

“Yes, sir,” Mainard replied. He was pondering the pirate’s hanging when his name was called suddenly.

“Loosen your grapnels and go check on the vessel the rogues were having at and take the surgeon with you.”

“Aye, sir.” Then Mainard left to do his bidding, somewhat relieved that he was being sent on an errand and wouldn’t have to witness the hanging.

Anthony then turned back to Buck. “Carry on with the business at hand.”

“Yes, sir,” was all Buck could manage. The order was given and the drums started to roll. A rope was thrown over the yardarm, a hangman’s noose already fashioned at the end of it.

The pirate collapsed into a heap on the deck. Two of Dunn’s marines were trying to lift the whimpering man but he refused to stand. Anthony nodded and the marines let go. The prisoner hit the deck with a thud. “S’il-vous-plait, monsieur!” the pathetic man begged, reaching out with his arm to Anthony. Tears streamed down his face causing streaks in the grime from the recent battle.

“Donnez moi une chance,” he cried. The man’s actions were disgusting to the hardened sailors who had seen the red flag flying from the pirate’s mast, not to mention the torn and mutilated bodies the pirates had left in their wake. The cries for mercy fell on deaf ears.

“Gawd ‘e makes me sick to me stomach,” a voice in the crowd spoke as the pirate whimpered and crawled in a semi circle.

“Hang the bugger, cap’n,” another voice in the crowd said.

“Silence!” Buck ordered.

Anthony, Buck, Gabe, and Lieutenant Dunn all stood before the man. The marines continued to hold him up as Anthony spoke to him. “Do you understand English?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Are you a French officer?”