Before Victoria fell off the roof with the man, Alexandre caught her hand and pulled her to safety.
"Back away from the windows," Anne commanded. "There's too many of them. Kill them as they come onto the roof."
The musketeers moved away from the open windows and stepped back as much as the small space allowed. Another citizen climbed through the windowpane a moment later, and an iron ball met his temple. With the musket spent, the crewmate moved out of the way to allow another a better vantage point.
Anne glanced back to the road and saw Pukuh nearly at the centre of the hamlet. Anne called to him, and he looked up to their perch, losing a half step. Anne pointed to the front of the store.
"Fight them one on one. Aim for the head or heart."
Pukuh motioned with his spear in her direction and slowed his gait even further as he approached the corner of the general store's front deck. He lowered his stance as he glided towards the remaining enemies.
The twenty crewmates on his tail approached, weapons drawn. Noticing Pukuh's caution, they slowed to join him. Anne repeated her message to the newcomers before turning around to the rooftop battle.
The change in vantage point proved effective at managing the numbers, and before long the sounds of raging, entranced people dissipated, and the battle with them. When no more enemies jumped through to attack them, the crew risked looking inside.
After confirming it was safe and all the villagers were dead, Anne and the rest of the crew on the roof re-entered the second floor. They went down to the first floor where the other crewmates, along with dozens of dead bodies, awaited them.
The smoke of the earlier musket fire had abated, and Anne could see and breathe more freely. Blood splattered every wall and covered much of the items in the store. Twenty to thirty bodies lay in piles in each corner and out to the deck, blood and guts and brains pooling and oozing out of their now truly lifeless bodies.
The crewmates who had come to their rescue, including Pukuh, appeared winded, wounded, and confused as they looked over the bodies of what, to them, were ordinary farmers and housewives.
Before anyone could ask, Anne spoke up. "Everything will be explained in time. For now, I want to be back on the ship to rest. Questions can wait for dawn."
…
Anne awoke in the middle of her sleep for the second time that night, but this time it was not with the cracking sound of a pistol ringing into the night. It was with the warning of more to come on the horizon.
"Ship approaching off the port bow. To quarters!" she heard William shouting outside her door.
Before the inevitable knock came, she was out of bed and opening it to his startled face. Behind him, men were clamouring to ready the cannons and muskets for a ship battle.
Anne and William went to the weather deck, where Anne traced across the horizon towards the approaching ship. She pulled out a spyglass and saw a sloop heading for them. Dawn had broken, and she would have overslept if she had gotten enough sleep the first time. As it stood, she was burning the candle on both ends, twice over.
Anne wiped away the tired from her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for a battle of a different sort.
Amidst final preparations for battle, something strange happened as the sloop approached. It slowed to a full stop just out of range of the cannons, just close enough for her to see the name Whydah Gally on the side, and Anne could see its crew lowering a longboat into the water.
What sort of trickery is this? "Muskets to port! Hold steady," she commanded.
She watched the longboat as it slowly came closer and closer to the Queen Anne's Revenge. Before long, she could make out those in the boat, as well as the one at the head, standing tall and lean with a familiar pretty face and jet-black eyes.
Anne gasped and shook her head in disbelief. "Sam?"
8. Pirates and Thieves
Edward went to stroke his beard absentmindedly before he remembered he had shaved it off not a few days prior. His hands shook. The haunting feeling he so desperately wanted to suppress had returned. He took another drink from his flask.
"May I?" Herbert beckoned with his hand outstretched.
Edward, Herbert, and John all sat just outside of the alcove near the surgeon's room. Edward was sitting directly on the deck, his arms resting on his bent knees and his back against the wall of the room. Herbert was in front of him, leaning forward in his wheelchair, and John was to his left sitting on a tall box of cargo.
Edward took another swig and reluctantly handed it to Herbert, who took a generous portion for himself.
The crewmates who had gathered before at the sound of the gunfire had dispersed back to their eating or work above deck. Very few crewmates seemed surprised or even upset over the news that their captain had just executed Nigel, and the few that were didn't hold the feeling for long.
"You said she didn't rule this ship through intimidation," Edward mumbled. The words blurted out without his meaning to say them, and he regretted them at once. It was a childish accusation of a lie and felt more lash than a question.
John looked at Edward, knowing the words were meant for him. His face was stone, but his youthful eyes showed the pain of that lash. "And I stand by it," he said simply. "She saved your life, probably all our lives, by doing what she did to Nigel."
"And then she threatened us," Herbert chimed in.
"She told you the rules. I already told you that her word is law, that's the difference."
"And where
