Privateer Possible - Part Two

Author's Explanation: At one point in my first Kim Possible fanfic, "The Claws of the Kitten," James Possible told Tim & Jim that one of their ancestors was a privateer, and not a pirate. This new story developed as I thought about that ancestor, and what he might have done.

My thanks to CajunBear73, Mahler Avatar, muzzlehatch, and EnterpriseCV-6 for their comments.

Some of the terms used in this story may be unfamiliar to many readers, so I will include a list of those terms, with explanations, with each part of the story as they are introduced.

Now, read on, and learn more about a seagoing member of the Possible family . . .

Part Two

Captain O'Neill, lovely and determined, still sat behind the table, pistols in hand, wearing the same stern expression she'd had before.

"Now that you've disposed of the men you murdered, are you ready to allow a harmless merchantman to resume its voyage?" Her voice was as cold as a winter gale in New England waters.

Possible gave a sigh. "As I pointed out a short time ago, your country and mine are at war, and your ship has fallen fair game. Arguing about it will change nothing. The sooner you accept the situation, the better. I'll transfer you to the Kimberly Ann while my prize crew take this ship to an American port."

"I'll accept that as a compliment," she said with a smile. "You fear that I'd rally the men and free this ship from your prize crew, no doubt?"

Rodger's patience was wearing thin, and her remark prodded him into a short, hard laugh. "Hardly. Our government will pay one hundred dollars for every British seaman that is turned in to an American sheriff, so I regard this ship's crew as a potential source of profit." Her expression shifted to surprise and then indignation before he continued. "But your crew will all have to be confined below decks during the voyage, which would hardly be suitable for a young lady."

Captain O'Neill's features froze in a picture of fury. "So, you're a slave-catcher as well as a pirate! Well, I'll not do a bit of work for any Yankee, not even if it means I'll be locked in a smelly prison for the rest of this foolish war of yours!"

He was beginning to wonder if the mice had gone the other way, instead of into the cabin, when he felt something cross his foot. He looked down carelessly for a moment, and saw that the mice were spreading out across the cabin floor. The small creatures were unafraid of humans after four cruises aboard the Kimberly Ann and were eager to explore their new surroundings. He saw two of the mice go under the table toward Captain O'Neill's chair.

"And what's more — " She stopped in mid-sentence, her face shifting from anger to puzzlement and then mounting alarm. She pushed her chair back and took a horrified glance toward the hem of her skirt, giving a very uncaptainlike squeak of dismay at the same time.

Possible saw the chance he needed. His long arms shot across the table, grabbed her wrists and turned her arms upward. Both pistols fired with a sound that slammed at his ears, and the lead bullets plowed into an overhead beam. She freed one hand and tried to snatch a fresh pistol from the table, but Rodger quickly rounded the end of the table and held her close against him, pinning both her hands behind her back.

The mice were forgotten, and she struggled like a panther in a net while Possible shouted for Whitmarsh and the seaman. The cabin door flew open as they entered. Whitmarsh promptly seized the powder keg and carried it out as carefully as a young father carries his newborn son. Once powder and pistols were gone Whitmarsh collected his mice. As soon as he had made his final exit, Rodger, unable to resist, kissed Captain O'Neill soundly — she promptly bit him.

Rodger released the young woman, but made certain that he stayed between her and a rack of cutlasses on the cabin bulkhead. The thought crossed his mind that if a score of such females were to board the Kimberly Ann with weapons in hand, his crew would have little chance of winning the battle.

She sat down, more exhausted by her anger than from the tussle with Possible. "A Yankee trick," she panted. "To take a ship by scaring a woman with a plague of mice!"

"You do the little fellows an injustice," Rodger remarked, as he visually checked the cabin for other weapons than the cutlassses. "They're clean, well-mannered and fine companions. If our voyage home is drawn out you may come to enjoy their company."

"I believe I will . . . in prefence to the company of their Captain!" she coldly replied.

At that point Midshipman Murray came to the cabin door, reporting that they had finished replacing the mainyard, and that the sails of a ship had been sighted, on a course toward the Kimberly Ann and its prize. "We can see her royals from the main top, sir, and I think she may be a man-o'-war."

"If it's a ship and she's steering towards us, then she'll probably be a frigate, and British as well, likely." Rodger considered what he knew of the few frigates in the small U. S. Navy. "Only the President and the Congress are presently at sea, to my knowledge."

"It's a fine British frigate," said Captain O'Neill, "I met her yesterday. And she has a captain who'll be glad to blow your pirate brig out of the water."

"He'll have to catch me first," Possible remarked, "and that's been tried before. What's your cargo?"

"Sugar and hardwoods from Jamaica," she replied. "But you'll never see a shilling for it!"

Possible ignored her retort, and gave a stream of orders to Murray. "As soon as the gig has left, clap on all the sail you can and get under way. Divide your crew into a watch and two working parties. Set one party to jettison the guns; they weigh about eight tons in total, and every ton overboard will bring her higher in the water. The other party can check the water casks and see what can be spared. Don't bother hoisting them on deck, just drain them into the bilges and get the pumps at work. Every ton she's lightened means more speed."

As he paused for breath, Rodger thought he could see a flicker of respect in the young woman's green eyes. But there was no time for speculation, and he kept his attention on Murray. "Hoist the British flag, and I'll keep ours flying as well. If that is a British warship I'll try and keep him busy while you pull away. If her captain knows of the Kimberly Ann he may chase us instead of you." Murray's eyes gleamed with eagerness to be away.

Rodger clapped the Midshipman on the back. "Tend to your ship, Mr. Murray, and good luck!" He turned back to the captain and said, "I can give you five minutes to get a few things and be on deck, no more."

He was out the cabin door before she could answer and was immediately involved with Murray in the business of getting the working parties organized. He briefly wondered if the young woman would resist leaving her ship, but in barely four minutes, not five, he found her standing by the entry port clutching a bundle, with stray locks of her hair fluttering like a mist in the wind.

His gig raced back to the Kimberly Ann, where Hubbard had the crew ready to hoist in the boat and make sail as soon as the gig was on board. He sent the young woman below to his cabin, without any protest from her, and felt the familiar thrill of danger and delight as his brig lifted the wings of its sails to the wind. The Doris Peters was moving too, and he saw two splashes along her larboard side. Through his spyglass he noted that Murray had made a swift and efficent job of chopping away the bulwarks and then cutting the gun tackles. As the ship had heeled the two guns had quickly gone overboard. Murray was doing very well, and would get an extra share of the prize money if he succeeded in getting the Peters to an American port.

The royals of the strange sail were now in view from the deck of the Kimberly Ann, and Possible could see the stranger was on the larboard tack, as was his brig. A glance astern showed him that Murray had the prize on the starboard tack and was pulling away from the Kimberly Ann, as if he were escaping from the American vessel. That was good; the farther Rodger could lead the frigate from the Doris Peters the better Murray's chances at getting away.

"I think he's weathering on us, sir," said Hubbard. "Shouldn't we down helm more?"

"No, let him follow us for a time while Murray gets away. In any case, he's not forereaching on us," Rodger calmly replied. "And keep those reefs in the topsails, Mr. Hubbard, but be ready to sheet home at my order."

"Aye, aye, sir." Hubbard had been with the ship since its first cruise, and he had come to trust his Captain's judgment, but no privateer enjoyed seeing a British warship slowly closing in on them.

The stranger was lying a trifle — half a point, perhaps — nearer to the wind, which let the frigate slowly close the distance between them. Both vessels were traveling through the water at much the same speed, however, so the approaching ship held steady on the same bearing.

Rodger studied the strange sail through his spy-glass. He could see her topsails now, and there was a pennant flying from her masthead. A man-o'-war, definitely. Then a hail came from the lookout, who was perched atop the Kimberly Ann's own mainmast.

"Deck there! She's a frigate, sir, with twelve guns a side on her gun deck!"

"Well, Captain, are you ready to surrender?"

At the sound of a female voice Rodger turned to see Captain O'Neill standing behind him.

"You should stay below," Rodger protested. "You'll be safer in the cabin."

"One good British broadside will tear this little brig to bits, so I doubt if it matters where I stay," she firmly replied. "In any event, I'd rather see what happens."

Rodger turned his attention back toward the British frigate, which was hull up to him now. He swung about to study the Doris Peters through his spy-glass, and noted that only the topsails of the merchantman were visible as she opened the distance from the Kimberly Ann and her pursuer. He turned back toward the frigate just in time to see a puff of powder-smoke on her forecastle, and then see the splash of a round-shot hitting the sea a hundred yards short of his brig.

Captain O'Neill came around to face him, her face mixture of puzzlement and disgust.

"This is folly! You've reefed your topsails and he's almost in range with his guns. There's such a thing as being too bold. Or do you want to be captured for some strange reason?"

He gazed at her curiously. "Just whose side are you on, Miss O'Neill?"

Her blush almost matched the color of her hair. "It was the excitement of the moment," she said furiously, and turned away from him.

Addressing her back, Possible remarked, "I've no intention of being caught, my lady, nor in being sunk." He called out to his first lieutenant, "Mister Hubbard!"

"Aye, sir."

"Shake out those reefs and sheet home the topsails. Bring her as close to the wind as we can go, and let her run!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Hubbard passed on the orders and the brig's crew swarmed up the masts to loosen the topsails, while the helmsman shifted the wheel and the Kimberly Ann's course diverged slightly from that of the frigate. As the full spread of the sails caught the air the brig began to visibly pull further ahead and creep upwind of the frigate.

A minute later the frigate yawed slighty downwind and her larboard side was masked in clouds of smoke as she fired a full broadside. A few of the shot went wide and most fell short, but by some freak of nature one skipped from the surface of the sea and carried onward to come sailing over the starboard rail of the Kimberly Ann. It came close enough to him that Possible could feel the wind made by its passage, which was followed a second later by a very feminine scream.

TBC . . .

Author's Disclaimer and Notes: The Disney Company owns the Kim Possible concept and characters.

The War of 1812 is part of American history.

The plot of this story is my responsibility.

Please leave a review if you can. All comments and criticism will be replied to.

Glossary:

down helm - To turn a ship's bow and trim the sails so that it is sailing close to the direction from which the wind is coming.

forereaching - When two ships are sailing on the same course, if one goes through the water faster than the other, it is said to be "forereaching" on the slower ship.

hull up - When a ship approachs another one at sea, more and more of its upperworks become visible. When the hull of the approaching ship can be seen, it is said to be "hull up."

larboard tack - A ship that is sailing with the wind coming from the left (larboard) side. When the wind is coming over the right (starboard) side, the ship is said to be on the starboard tack.

reef - A reef is a portion of a sail that is rolled up and tied off so as to reduce the sail's total area exposed to the wind. This reduces the strain on the masts and rigging when the wind is strong.

royals - Sailing warships could set four sails on the yards of each mast. Starting with the lowest and largest, they were named the 'course,' the 'topsail,' the 'topgallant' sail and the 'royal' sail. Therefore, when a warship under full sail was sighted at a long distance, the royal sails would be the first things seen, since the rest of the masts and sails would be below the horizon.

sheet home - In a ship's rigging, the sheets are the lines of rope connected to the lower corners of square sails. When the command "sheet home" is given, it means to pull down the lower edge of the sail until it is fully spread to catch the wind, and so increase the speed of the ship.

weathering - When two ships are sailing on the same course, and one can sail closer to the direction from which the wind is blowing, it will gradually get closer to a ship to windward of it, or further away from a ship to leeward. It is then said to be "weathering" on the other vessel.

yaw - A temporary change of course, it can be deliberate or accidental.