Page 45 of Blow Me Down
The four officers sucked in startled breaths. I leaned sideways a little and whispered a question to Pangloss.
“They be a powerful crew from the French Indies,” he answered softly.
“Dangerous, deadly, and ‘tis said their captain has made a pact with Beelzebub himself to rule all of the islands in the Seventh Sea.”
“Great, just what we need… another bloodthirsty, land-hungry pirate,” I grumbled.
“It may be just a rumor, since none of Henri Massant’s men have been sighted on Mongoose, but knowin‘ that devil Corbin”—Bart paused long enough to shoot me a look filled with unspoken criticism, no doubt for the fact that Corbin was still alive; I made a face at him—“I’ll not be discountin’ it. So we’ve to prepare for an all-out blockade, mates.”
“What about Conard over on Ellipse?” one of the officers asked. “He’s an ally, ain’t he?”
Bart shook his head. “He’s by way of havin‘ his own hands full with the Spanish attackin’ Ellipse. We’ll see no help from Conard. We’re alone in this, lads. I won’t lie to ye and say it hasn’t come at a bad time, but we’ll pull through it so long as we can hold the harbor.”
“We’ve the new guns,” Pangloss said, frowning.
“The thirty-two-pound guns, aye, but they’re not in place yet. If the devil attacks us afore the guns are secured, we’ll be left to rely on the sixteen-pounders.”
The men looked somber. I wanted to ask about the cannons but figured I was there on forbearance and had better keep my mouth shut until I knew what was going on.
Then I’d step in and organize things if their plans weren’t feasible.
“There be four guns on the leeward side of the island, just atop Careenin‘ Cove, in case Black Corbin is up to his old tricks,” Bart continued. “We’ll divide our forces between that spot and the harbor. I’ll command the defensive land force.
As for ships… Pangloss will be in charge of that. Ye’ll be responsible for battlin’
the blockade ships as best ye can, and keepin‘ them from enterin’ the harbor.”
My eyes widened, but I managed to stop before I squeaked out a startled,
“Me?”
Bart pointed to the map with the tip of his dagger. “They’ll be likely to bring in their big warships for the blockade—frigates and square riggers. It’ll be up to ye to harry them with yer sloops and barques. We’re short on men, so ye’ll have to do the best ye can, but use yer speed to damage the warships as much as ye can… without sinkin‘, of course.”
“Of course,” I murmured, part of my mind screaming insanely, the other part feeling a strange excitement at the thought of taking my sleek, pretty sloop into a real battle. Pangloss had told me many a tale of how the small, fast ships could be used to damage the larger, slower, bulkier warships, and despite my protest, I felt pretty confident about my abilities to captain my ship.
What was I thinking? I didn’t want war! I wanted Corbin and Bart to work out their issues in a reasonable manner. War, even virtual, was not good. While Bart went over specifics of what he wanted the officers to do, I spent a few moments alternating between panic about what he was asking of me, until recently the landlubberiest of all landlubbers, sharing the growing excitement and grim determination that the men exuded, and listening to the sane voice in my head as it told me the solution to the problem was not force, but an amicable end to hostilities worked out with logic and organization.
“Ye’ll be needin‘ a flag,” Bart said to me, interrupting my musings.
“A flag? Oh, a pirate flag? Skull and crossbones?”
“Nay,” Bart said with a smile, opening a drawer in the desk and tossing me a yard-long rectangular bit of black cloth. I held it up to admire the image on it: the white silhouette of a man standing on a red heart, which had been stabbed with a knife. The letters BC were written on the handle of the knife. “ ‘Tis me own design. That’s Black Corbin’s bleedin‘ heart I’m standin’ on, stabbed with his own knife.”
“Eh,” I said, folding it up. “Very… um… vengeful.”
“Aye, it is. Ye’ll be flyin‘ me flag so the devils know who ye are as ye blast their ships full of lead.”
“Cap’n,” Pangloss said, looking at me thoughtfully. “I’m thinkin‘ there’s somethin’ we’re overlookin‘ with the lass’s ship.”
The ship, nothing. They were overlooking the fact that I was the least experienced person in the room. I squished down a sudden spurt of disappointment at the thought that Pangloss might talk Bart out of including me in the attack team.
You’re not really a pirate, the sane part of my brain pointed out.You’re afinancial analyst who is going to have to have the carpet cleaned in a few short hours(or weeks, depending on your reality) if you don’t find the guy responsible fortrapping you in the game.
“What’s that, Panny?”
Pangloss took the flag and held it up. “The lass is sailin‘ one of Corbin’s own ships. A distinctive one, what with that garish paint.”
I frowned. I thought the glossy maroon trim on the ship was pretty. “TheSaucyWenchis not garish. She’s just colorful,” I said with a touch of hauteur.
