Chapter 12
John watched the waves and waited for a sail to appear before his eyes. Being first to pick from the prize was the only way, as far as John could figure, that he was going to quickly attain the items on his list. The Sultana had crossed into a popular trade route off the coast of Guadeloupe and south of the Virgin Islands. They were bound to cross paths with a merchant vessel at anytime.
Unfortunately, another pirate, the second youngest of the crew, shared John's desire as well. Shortly after John made his way up to the crow's nest, Eddie, Mr. Wicker's former teenaged slave, had joined him.
Eddie had not said that he intended to see the prize first as he climbed into the crow's nest, but his dark eyes were wild with treasure fever. John recognized the look because he saw it in his own eyes every time he looked in the wardrobe mirror. So it was only natural to assumed the dark haired, deeply tanned fifteen year old wanted what he wanted.
As the two boys stood back to back, silently scanning the horizon, John could feel the competitive tension between them grow. Their silence quickly became unbearable for John. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak to Eddie. The reality of it was they couldn't communicate even if they wanted to. The boy was from a remote part of India and didn't speak the King's English. Eddie only knew a few fragments, only enough to communicate basic needs and wants, not enough to have a conversation.
As he scanned the vast blue horizon, John wondered what Eddie's real name was. Slavers often gave English names to their slaves in an attempt to strip them of their former identities. John shook his head as he thought about all the terrible things he had witnessed back on his father's plantation; a day didn't go by without one of the slaves getting a serious whipping. John turned his gaze to the pirates who worked on deck and felt proud to be one of them. Everyone on the Sultana worked hard and was paid equally.
There were many former slaves aboard the pirate ship. The first mate, Hendrick Quintor, was a man of African descent. He spoke English with a Dutch accent so John assumed he hailed from a Dutch colony. Then there was John Julian, a half-blood Miskito Indian from Central America. He was the Sultana's pilot. And of course there was the African man, Marcus, who had come over with Eddie when they were freed from Mr. Wicker. These men were only the ones John could put names to. There were many others on the Sultana; at least twenty-five in a crew of close to one hundred and fifty men.
"Ship! Ship!" Eddie cried excitedly, jumping up and down, shaking the crow's nest violently.
Shocked by Eddie's sudden outburst, John crouched and hung onto the railing, his green eyes wild with fright. As Eddie's words sank in, John suddenly felt deflated. He turned quickly in the direction that Eddie was pointing and gasped in disappointment as his eyes fell on the white sails of a sloop cresting the horizon.
The men below rushed to the rail's edge to look for themselves. "Ship off starboard bow!" they cried.
Captain Bellamy climbed onto the navigation deck to get a better look with his spyglass.
"Aye, 'tis a small one-masted sloop. We shall overtake her easily," he yelled so the whole crew could hear him. The captain looked up at Eddie and saluted him. "This one's Eddie's!"
"Good job," John punched Eddie in the arm as he congratulated and tried to punish the teenager at the same time.
Eddie barely noticed John's attempt to get his attention. His eyes, glittering intensely in the hot afternoon sun, were firmly fixed on the ship ahead. The boy's tall, thin, barely-clothed body was tense with excitement at the new find.
Captain Black Sam barked orders to pursue. "Lee-oh! Let out the sails an' follow that ship. Luff and touch her!"
John Julian turned the wheel towards the ship. As the Sultana came about, the pirates on deck adjusted the sails to capture more wind and gain speed.
An excited flutter rose from John's innards to his throat as he anticipated his first hostile takeover. He wasn't sure what to expect. Would the ship fight, flee or surrender? From the stories Black Sam told, ships often surrendered rather than take the risk of angering the pirates and bringing their wrath down upon them.
John wished he had a weapon. He didn't feel safe without one. What if the crew of the ship fought back? What would he do then? He looked at Eddie. The teenager didn't have a weapon either. In fact, the boy had very little. The only thing Eddie seemed to own was a dirty loincloth. In a sudden rush of compassion, John felt happy that Eddie would have first pick of the prize. Well, almost. At least he'll get a suit of clothes out of it, John mused.
Regardless of who was entitled to the prize first, John still wanted a weapon. He climbed down the ladder and marched straight to the captain who was standing behind the helmsman on the navigation deck.
"What is it lad?" the captain asked in an urgent tone.
"I don't have a weapon," John answered.
"Aye that be true, but why would ye be needin' one?"
"In case they fight back."
"Ah. What of yer slingshot?"
"I lost it." John's face reddened when he was reminded of the day his mother threw his slingshot overboard.
The captain rubbed the short black stubble on his chin as he thought. "As I recall, Richard stepped on it an' kicked it under thar." The captain pointed to the closest port cannon. "Give 'er a look see."
John climbed down from the navigation platform and walked towards the aft, port cannon. When he reached it, he fell to his hands and knees and looked underneath the barrel. His breath caught in his throat when he saw what he was looking for. He grabbed his slingshot, hugging it to his chest as he stood up.
"I thought I'd lost this," John whispered.
He held the slingshot in the sunlight and turned it over, examining it as if it were a priceless jewel. The wooden handle was scuffed on one side, but other than that it was undamaged. John sighed in frustration when he remembered he didn't have anything that would work for ammunition. His marble collection was long gone.
As he thought about where he could find something of equal size and shape, he noticed a small burlap bag tied to the railing underneath a swivel gun. He looked inside the bag and found it was full of musket balls.
"These will do perfectly," John said to himself. The lead ammunition was heavier than a glass marble, but it was the only thing handy that was roughly the same size and shape.
John looked around to see if anyone was watching him. No one was paying attention, so he slipped his hand inside the bag and grabbed a handful of musket balls. Quickly, he stuffed them into his pockets before anyone noticed what he was doing. Then he stepped away slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and stood by the captain's door.
From this vantage point, he could watch the crew and stay out of the way at the same time. Whenever John had a few moments to himself, he often ended up in this very spot. He loved watching the pirates work.
The excited energy on deck was palpable. It had almost been a week since they had left the Bonetta behind and it was evidently high time they found a new prize to plunder. The men shouted and sang happily as they tended to the operation of the ship's rigging.
"Ho, heave, ho, hoist up the jolly flag. Oh, ho, ho, we're off to loot n' plunder. Ho heave, ho, stuffed to the gunwales our ship will sag. Oh, ho, ho, we won't be torn asunder. Ho, heave, ho, hoist up the jolly flag. Oh, ho, ho, 'tis no wonder, thar's nothin' but the sweet trade fer me."
It seemed as if the pirates on deck were all wearing the same uniform, a pair of cut off breeches, bandannas on their heads, and of course their pistols, knives and cutlasses were strapped to their bare, sweaty torsos. Their lean, strong muscles bulged and stretched as they worked the ropes and rigging under the bright afternoon sun.
It had been a hot week. Each man's skin was deeply tanned from working sunrise to sunset. Some of the pirates had the look of men aged well beyond their years, with skin weathered and leathery like a dried up apple. So it was difficult to judge the age of most of them.
The Sultana was quickly gaining on
its prize now, and the Marianne was following closely behind. John ran into the captain's cabin and pulled an extra spyglass out of the captain's chest. He ran to the bow of the Sultana to get a better view of the soon-to-be-plundered ship. John looked through the telescope and examined the vessel dead ahead. The ship's name was painted on the stern.
"The Pearl," John read out loud to no one in particular.
"Hoist the Jolly Roger!" the captain cried enthusiastically.
The men replaced the Union Jack with their pirate flag, which was a simple white skull and crossbones against a black background. John's heart began to race as the reality of the situation sank in. They were really going to do it. It was really going to happen. He was finally going to see firsthand how pirates overtake a ship.
John could barely contain his excitement; he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He closed his eyes and became one with the Sultana. As she sped through the waves, her prow cut through them effortlessly, sending a refreshing sea spray up to meet John's hot, flushed cheeks. He took a deep breath and relished the briny smell of the ocean mist.
He opened his eyes. The Pearl was dead ahead. The Sultana was pulling up on her starboard side and the Marianne was on her portside. Soon the Pearl would be surrounded by pirates. She didn't stand a chance.
"To yer stations an' man the cannons!" Captain Black Sam bellowed.
The pirates organized themselves into groups at the bow and stern and lined the deck, two at each cannon.
John didn't need the spyglass anymore to see the men aboard the Pearl. It was obvious they were going to try to outrun the pirates. The Pearl's sail was full of wind just as the Sultana's was, but the Pearl was struggling to stay in the lead. The Sultana's bow crept ahead, gaining on the smaller vessel.
"Gunners, aim a shot over the bow," the captain ordered.
The pirates manning the foremost cannon on the portside aimed and awaited their orders.
"Steady … steady … fire!" the captain shouted.
Boom! The pirates fired a single shot. The cannon ball flew over the bow of the Pearl and splashed into the ocean just ahead of the fleeing vessel. A tremendous cry rose up from the pirates on deck as the boarding parties fore and aft prepared to leap aboard the smaller ship.
Some of the pirates held grappling hooks and ropes. As soon as the pirates were given the opportunity, it seemed they planned to throw their hooks into the sails of the Pearl and swing onboard. Some of the pirates held their pistols ready and as soon as the Sultana came broadside with the Pearl they intended to open fire on her crew.
The Sultana crept forward, gaining on the smaller vessel until the two ships were almost completely side by side. John could see that no one seemed to be out on her deck. No one was manning the navigation wheel or the rigging. They've all gone down below, John realized.
"Board at will!" the captain ordered.
The pirates used their grappling hooks to snare the Pearl's rigging and then swung themselves overboard, hanging tight onto their ropes as their bodies either slammed against the hull or swung onto the deck. The men hanging below the rail soon climbed up onto the ship. While the pirates who were already onboard swarmed over the deck, taking over the operation of the sloop and dropping her sails.
Soon after the three ships were slowed to a more manageable speed, a second boarding party from the Marianne climbed onboard, and ventured below deck. Cries rose up through the hatchway as the pirates overwhelmed the Pearl's crew.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Pistol fire rang out and then all was quiet below deck.
A moment later, Hendrick climbed up through the hatchway and stood on the deck. "'Tis all clear!" he shouted.
And just like that it was all over.