Page 106 of Blow Me Down
“Can you take charge of the people on the sails?” he asked me after moving the couple of women around to the rigging, showing them the correct way to unfurl the sails and raise and lower the boom.
“Sure, although I hate to be responsible for any close-quarter sailing,” I answered. “Based on experience, there’s no way I’m going to be able to avoid getting us shot to hell.”
“You’ll be fine. Just get us to the harbor, and I’ll do the rest,” he said.
“What are you going to do?” I asked as he ordered the anchor lifted and the sails dropped.
“Start loading the guns. I’ve got twenty-four to load, and it’s going to take us a while to get them loaded.”
It did. It took until we were at the edge of the harbor before Corbin and the men had those twenty-four guns loaded. It wasn’t the number of guns that slowed him down—the process of loading a cannon was an exacting detail, one involving five men. The gun was first primed; then a long “worm” (long stick with scratchy things on the end) was shoved down it and turned a couple of times, scraping out any debris. Following that, a sponge piece (another long stick with a damp sponge on the end) was used to clean it further; then the charge was inserted and rammed down into the breech. Shot was then added, with the cannonballs being rammed tightly against the powder charge. After that, priming powder was poured into the primer vent, and the gun was ready to be aimed and fired.
As we sailed past the inky left arm of the harbor, my breath caught in my throat and stuck there in a painful lump. Corbin was just finishing up the last gun, but as he finished and stretched, everyone on board the ship stood silently as the full extent of our enemy’s intentions came into view.
The harbor was filled with ships, big ships, warships… and all of them had their guns trained on my sweet little town.
“That’s not a fleet,” I said softly, blindly grabbing Corbin for some much-needed support. “That’s a friggin‘ armada.”
“And we’re all that stands between it and destruction,” he said softly.
Chapter 26
Let vengeance howl;
The Pirate so decides.
—Ibid, Act II
I turned Corbin so he had to look at me. The stunned faces of everyone on the ship as we slipped silently through the water toward what was sure to be our doom pushed me into action.
“Corbin, my love, my darling, I know that all you want is to get us out of this game. I’m totally with you on that as a goal. By my best estimate, I’ve been sitting in a chair for three hours, and I am going to have to move soon or my body is going to suffer damage. But even taking all that into consideration, I’m going to have to throw you overboard if you seriously believe we can take on those”—I squinted against the glow of the fire burning behind the town, which effectively cast the warships in the harbor in sharp silhouette—“eight warships with one little undermanned ship.”
Corbin brushed his thumb across my cheek in a gesture so sweet it almost brought tears to my eyes. “Sweetheart, remember what I said about having faith in me?”
“Yes, and I do, but this is ridiculous—”
“It would be if we were going to attack those eight ships, but we aren’t.”
I shook my head, confused. “You said we’re going to stop Bart—”
“And so we are. But Bart—Paul—isn’t on those ships. He’s on a sloop somewhere on the edges of the harbor, well back from the action, but close enough to watch and, more important, direct the attack.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, completely at a loss.
He smiled. “That’s where the having-faith-in-me part comes in. I know Paul, Amy. I worked with him for two years and, more important, I played the game with him. I’ve seen him engineer attack after attack on islands, and he’s used the same method each time. I see no reason for him to change that now.”
“But”—I waved my hand toward the harbor—“where is he?”
“We’ll find him. He’ll show himself before too long.”
I didn’t have quite the confidence Corbin had that Bart would act the way he was expected to, but I held my tongue and helped with the sails.
“Light sails only,” Corbin ordered. “Rig that steering boom in snug. We don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves until we have Paul in our sights.
Amy, get everyone at their stations, ready for hauling off.”
“Gotcha,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Ladies, let’s get the trysail boom on the starboard side, ready for jibbing.”
The women, all four of them, looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. I felt a moment of pride in how far I’d come from the first time I stepped foot on my sloop, but let that go to explain quickly what was expected of them.
