H.M.S Valor: Treachery And Triumph: A war time adventure on the high seas by Cal Clement (best way to read an ebook TXT) 📗

waters’ surface and an explosion of bubbles trailing upward as heavy barrels disappeared from view. Almost instantly, as the last of the damaged cannons left the ship, Tim could feel their added speed. The petty officer he hadn’t been able to understand barked some garbled order aloft and sails were quickly adjusted adding even more speed to their pursuit. Soon the black banner waving behind the fleeing ship ahead was close enough that Tim could stand on the bow and make out it’s details clearly through a sight glass. The satanic looking skull seemed a typical fare for pirate crews along with a canted trident, yet another staple symbol of nautical marauders. But the object on the banner that vexed him played across the bottom of the black field. A chain, broken in the middle directly beneath the leering hollow eyed skull. Tim pulled his eye away from the glass and pondered a moment over the symbolism on the black flag. A broken chain, it could be anything, he supposed silently, but a pirate crew that displayed it on their flag while at the same time that he had lost two shipments of slaves bound for America? Could it be that this entire time he had mistaken the effort of these pirates for a betrayal by the Governor and his Admiral? He picked over events in his mind, deciding if that were the case it was far too late now to reverse course. He couldn’t take back the ball he had shot into the Admiral’s chest nor raise the ships he and his men had sunk in harbor. But a lingering feeling began to overcome him. The feeling someone gets when they discover they have made an egregious error and it’s about to be unveiled to the light of day.

Tim’s face flushed and his heartbeat quickened as he looked again through the glass, studying the ship they were drawing rapidly closer toward. The Valor was almost near enough that he could make out the form of individuals on the pirate’s deck. He scanned their rigging through the flapping of the massive black flag, he could make out forms aloft, climbing ratlines and scurrying along the spars. Their shirts were what stood out, dirty and stained white cloth, the rest of their form was still too vague to glean any detail from at their distance. He angled the glass back down to the stern and as the pirates altered their course slightly the billowing black cloth revealed a split-second glimpse of the quarter deck. Tim’s hands seemed frozen and his heart skipped, the breath he had been about to expel stuck in his throat almost choking him. In the void behind that infernal black flag he had spotted two blue navy coats and three spots of red that could only be royal marines. He recoiled the glass from his eye almost involuntarily and slammed a closed fist onto the wooden rail of the bulwark. His jaw clenched and he felt his teeth gritting from tension and strain. Above, the rope that still suspended Cobb over the bow decks creaked like a mocking raven offering its morbid note. Tim shot a seething glance to the dangling dead man as if Cobb had created this web of failure.

Tim stormed back toward the sailors on the quarterdeck in furious purpose.

“When can we begin firing on them?” he demanded with impatient fervor. The sailors exchanged glances and carried on while a petty officer took a step over to the irate American.

“We’re still out of range. It’d be wasted shot and powder to fire on them now. On toward afternoon we might be close enough. But firing the chasers won’t likely do us much good, we’d have to get an angle and aim for her rudder or the aft mast. I’ve seen it done, but that’s master gunnery, not likely,” came the sobering reply.

“As soon as we can levy effective fire on them, do it. I won’t relent until we have what is ours.” Tim said dryly.

“We’ll be approaching the coastline soon, judging by their course. Haiti. We’d best stay well clear of French waters,” cautioned the man.

“I care not for your concerns, continue the pursuit, whatever we encounter. I trust you men are capable to deal with any manner of complications.” Tim retorted, unflinching. The sailor hesitated a moment, then gave a nod and continued to his work. Tim’s jaw clenched again, grinding his teeth as he tried to formulate a plan should sailors aboard the Valor be confront with the sight of their countrymen aboard the pirate vessel. His schemes would unravel in his face, again. He doubted, if the truth behind his haphazard web of schemes and lies were revealed, that even the promise of gold would placate the crew. If the true nature of Admiral Sharpe’s demise was revealed, Tim knew, he would suffer a fate much worse than Mr. Cobb. Somehow, if he managed to survive his current predicament, he still had to face his failures with the Order. Suddenly, swinging from a rope off the foremast seemed a tolerable end.

A single shot pierced the midday calm, with a puff of smoke rising up from the Pirate ship’s stern. Tim heard a whining shriek and saw a geyser of seawater spray high into the air where the ball impacted. The Valor still lay outside of their range, Tim understood that much at least, but the pirates were sending him a message. Things were going to get precarious and soon, the coast of Haiti was now in view along the eastern horizon and shortly after passing the south western tip of the island, the pirate ship edged their bow over to a northeasterly heading. By evening they would be well into the gulf created by the southern and northern fingers of Haiti’s west coast, and the sailors aboard the Valor assured him, the pirates would have no escape. They kept the Valor’s course just west of the pirates and continued their distant