“Captain, the Governor and I will let you handle this. The cargo I am after should be in a forward cabin on the gun deck. Let me know when you have it,” said Tim closely guarding the concern that had dawned on him.
“Ok, Mr. Sladen, well, the boarding party will let you know whe…”
“You’re not going over Captain?” Tim interrupted.
“Well, no Sir. A Captain stays with his ship Mr. Sladen, if something should happen, I need to be here, with the crew aboard the Georgia Spirit.” The Captain explained apologetically. The Captain’s answer visibly displeased Tim, but the Captain stood firm, offering no further explanation.
The boarding party moved methodically over the crossing plank, fanning out and searching over the Gazelle’s deck. From the forecastle, Tim watched as the sailors slowly moved across the deck, carefully checking under her longboats and peering into her hold wells. His unrelenting stare remained as the boarding sailors opened the Gazelle’s weather hatch and carefully, one by one descended below her deck. Moments drug by, Tim had to remind himself to breathe, the empty deck of the Gazelle stared back through the dancing light of the lanterns on board. The sails above flopped and snapped lazily in the wind, the wheel strained back and forth sporadically against the rope binding it.
A shout from deep within the Gazelle sent Tim’s heartbeat into a race, his mouth went dry and he stretched his spine, leaning over the rail in an attempt to hear what was going on. Running footfalls preceded a scream of “ABANDON SHIP!!” Tim wheeled from the rail, looking behind to where Governor Alton was slumped against the opposite side of the ship. Running as fast as his feet would carry him, he screamed at the Governor, “Jump, go, jump!” Alton, unaware of the unfolding events began to ease himself off the rail he had been leaning on when Tim collided with him, shoving him violently. Alton’s rear hit the rail just as Tim savagely shoved him again screaming, “Get off the ship!” Both men sprawled over the edge limbs flailing into the night air, the pair hadn’t broken the surface of the water when the darkness erupted into a massive explosion sending jagged shards of wood and hunks of metal flying. The force of the explosion from the Gazelle was so great it sent the Georgia Spirit reeling sideways with flames stretching high into the air licking at masts and sails. As Tim and Alton surfaced a deadly rain of debris fell, chunks of wood large and small, cannon shot, chain, ropes and planks fell all around them. Tim looked skyward to see flames spreading rapidly through the Georgia Spirit’s sails and rigging, shadows of the chaos played through the smoke spilling over the rail as sailors fought against the spreading blaze. Screams could be heard from on deck and Tim attempted to call out for help, but his voice was choked out by seawater and smoke. A low whistle grew in pitch and volume until its source, cannon shot from the Gazelle ejected into the air by the force of the explosion, came crashing into the deck of the Spirit. Another, louder crash caused by a falling cannon hulk smashed through sails and yards before crashing into the deck, sending even more debris flying.
Through the pandemonium going on all around him, Tim looked around, to find Governor Alton clinging to a half-broken chunk of barrel. Light from the flames stretched out illuminating the side of the lurking pirate ship. One by one, he watched in compounding horror as its gun ports opened and the menacing snouts of its cannons protruded from each in turn.
“Governor, we need to get away from the ship!” he cried, choking on smoke, “Swim man, go!” His plea was punctuated by the first incoming cannon shot. A plume of water shot skyward as the round impacted short of the Georgia Spirit, mere yards from where Tim and Alton floundered and scrambled in their attempt to swim away from the ship. Another shot thundered over the water, its shrieking whistle piercing into Tim’s ears before impacting against the side of the Georgia Spirit. He and Alton paddled in desperation, clinging to debris for their lives. They moved along the side of the ship as it took several more impacts from cannon fire, pausing with each shot to shield themselves from the flying wooden shrapnel of obliterated timbers. Once they passed far enough behind the fantail of the Spirit to see the other side the scene was horrifying. Flotsam and flames dotted the plot of sea once occupied by the Gazelle but that was all that remained of the vessel that had just moments ago been sailing next to the Georgia Spirit. It sent a fury through Tim though he remained stone faced at their current predicament. He and his prisoner were overboard, one ship had been sunk and very soon, without intervention from the rest of his fleet, the Georgia Spirit would be following.
Tim scanned the sea northward for the vessels that were following the Spirit. He could see the hull of a ship slicing the water in approach and panic began to grip his soul. Where were they others? Had they turned and
