“You seem to have the measure of it.” Elliot growled.
“Well, your interference can no longer be tolerated,” said Tim, as he spoke, the bodies of four marines dropped from the roof. Tim rapidly drew a pistol from his waistband, leveled it at Admiral Sharpe and fired. Elliot recoiled and William reached out to stop his fall. Blood was already soaking into the Admiral’s uniform coat as Will tried to help him get his feet back underneath himself. In a moment the grounds of the Governor’s mansion became a battlefield as fire was exchanged between the royal marines and the mounted men. Tim had wheeled his horse and departed immediately after shooting Admiral Sharpe, leaving the rest of his men to deal with the aftermath. Gun smoke permeated the air and hung low over the ground; marines fell to shots as men were unhorsed from their accurate return fire. Will looked toward the road at the fleeing American, seeing a marine thrust his bayonet and impale a rider following the man. For an instant Will felt a clarity take hold of his mind in the middle of the chaos, the gunfire and screams seemed duller and he asked himself where the American could be going. Then it hit him, just as if he’d been struck by a musket ball.
“Get to the longboats, men, get to the ships! He’s going to the fort! Get to the ships now!” he screamed. Will put the Admiral arm over his shoulder and began moving to the road as marines closed in to protect their movement. He noticed that Sharpe’s arm had gone limp and he head hung down against his shoulder. “We’re going to the ships Sir, just hang on Sir, I will get you there.” No response came and Will’s heart sank in his chest. He ran, heaving the Admiral with him toward the gate, through gun fire and swords and bayonets clattering. The marines had gathered around him, a far slighter number than had first marched up the road in the morning sun. Perhaps twenty remained, the rest lay scattered about the mansion grounds. Once they made their way from the cobbled street and onto the dirt road the mounted men ceased their fire. Will dared not slow his pace, unsure if they were regrouping to continue their assault.
“Get to the ships men and make sail at once! Cut anchor lines and just go, they are going to open fire from the fort batteries!” Will screamed, laboring for the breath for each word.
He could feel the pace of every man with him quicken and suddenly two marines had overtaken his hold of the Admiral.
“We’ll get him the rest of the way Sir,” one of the marines said.
Their race to the docks was unencumbered by any more fire from the horsemen, but just as Will’s foot thudded onto the wooden pier the roar of a cannon shot pierced through the harbor. Will looked up in horror as the first shots impacted into the Hunter.
‘Drowned Maiden’
22 Sept 1808
17 Degrees 13’ N, 76 Degrees 12’ W
The warm rays of the Caribbean sun held Lilith in their gentle grasp as she manned the helm of the Maiden. It had become her favored post on deck and as she quickly caught on needing less and less guidance and instruction from Chibs, she was often requested to the wheel. Her skill increased every day and as a convenient side effect, she was learning sail patterns more intimately and understanding them far better than when she had worked the deck or aloft in the rigging. An adjustment from the helm to the wind would work so far as the wind stayed consistent, any change of the wind relative to their course would require repositioning sails or resetting the pattern entirely. After several changes Lilith began to see a pattern to Chibs’ orders. She began to predict, often correctly, Chibs’ next order to the hands. It gave her a swell of pride and the feeling of belonging while at the same time the glorious sensation of freedom. When Lilith was not at the helm or engaged in another task she often lingered on the bow of the Maiden, looking out over the water, watching as the hull sliced through the blue green Caribbean. Gulls overhead and dolphins frolicking off the bow made an almost fantastical surrounding for a girl who had only known dirt floors, fear and suffering. Her heart soared higher than the mast tops. No thoughts of the future crossed her mind, the worries and sadness for her mother seemed to fade with each passing day. Lilith had found something she had relished after her entire life. She had a home on the Maiden, she had family with her crew and the protection of a fearsome band along with their captain.
Gently rolling waves and a constant wind out of the southwest made their sailing almost leisurely. The fleet of three ships was tacked onto a northerly course that James had described as ‘waving the prize right under their smug noses’. He hadn’t revealed his plans to Lilith, nor did she expect he would, but Chibs seemed to have his reservations as much as he tried to hide it. The wealth they had discovered aboard the Gazelle was beyond imagining, enough for every soul aboard the fleet to live comfortably for the rest of their days. It seemed madness to tempt fate any further, Chibs had insisted, but James would have none of
