Some others in the crew had no such concerns and covered their ears to dull the sound of that unique bell. Anne could see all eyes drawn to the bell, and the crew stopped what they were doing to listen.
The bell kept ringing, and the crew kept still, watching. Anne needed to put a stop to it. She stepped on top of a few of the crates of supplies, pulled out a pistol and fired it into the air. The crack of the igniting black powder cut through the bell like thunder shaking the timbers of a home.
The crew came to their senses and went for their weapons, turning their heads this way and that to find the source of the gunfire. Slowly they noticed Anne standing tall above them.
"Do not let that bell take hold of you, lest you become one of the hollows." She had to yell to overpower the sound of the bell, and to reach each crewmate stretched across the field.
Her words rang true to the men, and none of them covered their ears any longer. They returned to work, setting up the cannons and supplies and trying their best to ignore the sound of the bell.
Anne, still on her perch, nodded approvingly before she remembered the crewmates watching the citizens of the island further inland. She pulled out her spyglass and looked down the road. She could see the group of them, the citizens tied up and the twenty crewmates watching over them from a distance. They were quite a way away, so it was hard to tell who was who, but there appeared to be none in a panic, and none of the islanders were struggling.
She did notice one person in the thick of the men and women, and she guessed it was Alexandre given his lack of care for his own wellbeing. He was ringing the handbell as he walked amongst them, seemingly as a precaution as she saw no signs they were affected by the bell tower at that distance.
"Captain!" William called.
Anne put the spyglass away and turned around. The wooden beams in the centre of the stockade swung open slowly, and thirty men ran out. Their weapons were drawn, and they were charging directly at them.
"To arms!" Anne shouted. "Muskets at the ready," she commanded.
The crew dropped what they were doing and grabbed muskets from the nearby supplies and out of the wagons. They lined up in front of the supplies in two rows, just as they had planned and just as Anne and William had trained them to do. One row dropped to a knee, and the other stood behind, both loading the muskets and readying to fire. There was enough distance and enough warning to give them time to load and ready before Silver Eyes' men were even close.
"Steady," William shouted, taking over for Anne as Anne watched the men approach through her spyglass.
The bell kept ringing over and over, filling the air with its otherworldly tone. It made the dead-eyed men approaching seem more a nightmare borne from the mist than real people on their way to kill them. On and on it rang, the rhythmic striking of the bell drowning out the shouts from the men approaching.
Anne could no longer feel the breeze in the air, as though the bell had whisked it away, and she felt a bead of sweat travel down her cheek. It was not a humid day, but the bell and the oncoming battle tensed her muscles like no other battle had before. These were no ordinary men they were about to face, and Anne didn't know what to expect.
William watched the oncoming enemy behind the two rows of men. They had to wait until the enemy was closer than three hundred yards before firing, but the closer they were, the more accurate the shot. Still, with the wall of men and muskets they had, there was no particular need for accuracy.
"Fire!"
William called the order at around two hundred and ninety yards. The wall of iron fired from the muskets, and smoke filled the air around them. Without the breeze, the smoke lingered and shaded their view as a light mist. They were still able to see the enemy approaching and saw the iron balls had met their marks.
The men hit by the iron slowed a step, but then returned to their charge unfazed. Their eyes looked like the entranced islanders, and their faces were unnaturally calm despite some of them shouting a war cry. It made their charge and their shouts seem rehearsed and wooden as though someone directed them to act in such a way.
"Fire!" William shouted again.
Another wall of iron shot forward, catching many of the men charging towards them. A few fell this time thanks to a few lucky hits to the skull, but the rest kept advancing.
The crew dropped their muskets and pulled out cutlasses and pistols. Anne put away her spyglass, drew her own weapon, and joined the crew. "Remember what Alexandre taught you," she shouted above the din. "These men are under a similar spell, but it's not as strong. We can break it with proper timing. Find an opening and strike!"
The crew didn't respond, too focused on the surge of men coming at them, but she hoped they heard her.
The battle began with a fury. The clang of steel on steel rang out as blades clashed. The crew of Queen Anne's Revenge outnumbered Silver Eyes' men by three to one, and their enemies were injured. It should have been a quick skirmish, but it was not.
The men they were facing were faster and stronger and had level heads, unlike their counterparts residing in the villages around the island. They struck with purpose, and even when the crewmates overwhelmed them with numbers, the enemy was able to strike effectively and efficiently to incapacitate or
