Nearing their destination, the weather suddenly shifted. Instead of the
clear skies and bright sun that they had enjoyed most of the way, the
air was thick with mist. Captain Kirtland ordered most of the sails
reefed, lest with speed they drive onto shoals before they knew it.
Will heard the sailors grumbling at the delay, when they wanted to get
to port as fast as possible and spend their wages on better drink than
they had in rations and on women. Listening to them, for the first time
Will wondered about his parents. Had his mother been one of those women
for his father? Could that be why he had not been back to Portsmouth
for three years?
He touched the medallion that hung on a chain around his neck, under his shirt lest the gold tempt someone to try to steal it from him. No – his father was a good man, he was sure of that. He had not forgotten them. William Turner had left money for his son, had sent him this trinket since he had last been home. Whatever had kept him from returning since then, Will was certain that his father intended to do so.
"Can't see a thing in this murk," he heard one of the sailors mutter. "Not natural, not at this season."
It was Johnny speaking. Will liked Johnny, who was only a few years older, but he agreed with the man who replied, " 'Ow do you know what's natural? 'Ave you been 'ere so much that you know the weather for all seasons?"
"No," Johnny had to admit. "It just seems. . . odd somehow."
"Can't last forever, and we'll be to port soon."
"How soon?" Will asked.
"A few days, maybe a week if it stays foggy like this. Anxious to be there, are you?" said the other man – Ned, Will remembered he was called.
"A bit. I've never been out of Portsmouth before, much less out of England."
"And you're the lad looking for his father, aren't you? What was the name?"
"He's called William Turner, just like I am. Last I heard he was sailing on the Yancy, making the three-cornered run to Africa and the Caribbean. You don't know him, do you?" asked Will eagerly.
"Afraid not, son. I've heard of the Yancy, but never heard of no William Turner on her. But some men changes ships pretty regular-like. I hope you find him," Ned said.
Will nodded in resignation. He had asked most of the men on board if they knew William Turner, and had received universal negatives. Still, he assured himself, once in port he would have a much better chance.
"Hold on." Johnny cocked his head. "What's that?"
They all three looked over the rail, peering through the fog for the source of the sound. At first Will saw nothing. Then Ned pointed with a trembling hand. "Look!"
Out of the mist loomed a vessel with tattered black sails. Will felt his mouth open as he recognized the symbol on the flag she flew – a skull-and-crossbones. The Berenice was about to be attacked by a pirate ship, despite her own English colors. Will wondered if that meant the pirates were Spanish, retaliating for English privateering efforts. Johnny shook his shoulder. "Wake up, Will. You're not big enough to be much help, I'm afraid. You'd do better to go below. Ned's warning the captain."
"Please, let me help. I'm sure I can do something."
Johnny looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe you can help bring powder from the hold to the cannons. Go on, then, you know where it is. Lend a hand."
The next hour was a whirlwind of activity as the two ships maneuvered and the crew of the Berenice brought their cannon into position. A merchant ship, the Berenice was well-armed and her crew had experience with being attacked. She had fought off a pirate on her last voyage, Johnny had told Will several weeks before. At the time Will had thought that it would be exciting to meet a pirate, but now he began to reconsider.
Loud, that was what it was, and frightening to see the great iron balls tear through the rigging and send bits of the deck spinning off into the water. The sweating men ignored it, so Will tried to as well. He was, conversely, pleased when one of their own shots smashed into the enemy deck and went through the rail.
The firing continued. Will saw that the enemy were preparing grapples, ready to board when they thought that the Berenice was weakened enough. He dodged around the mast and came to a halt on the far side of the deck from the pirate ship. There he paused, not sure what to do. He was afraid to go below, but wanted to stay out of the way; his only knife was a small one, for the table, not for fighting. As he hesitated, the decision was made for him. A shot from an enemy cannon crashed into the deck beside him and hurled him through a gap in the railing.
With a splutter Will managed to get his head above the water. Despite living in a port town his whole life, like most of his comrades, Will had never really learned to swim; at best he could paddle himself about in shallow water for a short time. Several days from landfall – he knew he could never swim so far. He looked about in the water for something to help him keep afloat until, he hoped, the Berenice's crew would have fought off her attackers and might be able to pick him up.
Lady Fortune smiled. A hatch cover from the deck had fallen nearly intact into the water. Will pulled himself up onto it and sprawled out flat to keep it as steady as possible. He used his hands to paddle around so that he could see what was happening to the Berenice. As he watched, it became clear that his friends' valiant efforts were not enough. Shot after shot crashed into the ship. It appeared that the pirates had no intention of taking it with a prize crew, careless of damage as they seemed.
By now Will had drifted far enough from the combat that he could see some of the deck. The pirates had swarmed across and were taking his friends captive, disappearing below and bringing up the most valuable items from the hold, hauling them across to their own ship. Will knew what would happen next, from all the stories he had heard. His expectations were fulfilled when he saw one man emerge from the holds of the Berenice with a torch and the enemy ship disengage its grapples and begin to move off. Will was still watching, wondering what he should do, when the Berenice exploded. He idly noticed a piece of wood hurtling toward him, before pain engulfed him and he knew nothing more.
He touched the medallion that hung on a chain around his neck, under his shirt lest the gold tempt someone to try to steal it from him. No – his father was a good man, he was sure of that. He had not forgotten them. William Turner had left money for his son, had sent him this trinket since he had last been home. Whatever had kept him from returning since then, Will was certain that his father intended to do so.
"Can't see a thing in this murk," he heard one of the sailors mutter. "Not natural, not at this season."
It was Johnny speaking. Will liked Johnny, who was only a few years older, but he agreed with the man who replied, " 'Ow do you know what's natural? 'Ave you been 'ere so much that you know the weather for all seasons?"
"No," Johnny had to admit. "It just seems. . . odd somehow."
"Can't last forever, and we'll be to port soon."
"How soon?" Will asked.
"A few days, maybe a week if it stays foggy like this. Anxious to be there, are you?" said the other man – Ned, Will remembered he was called.
"A bit. I've never been out of Portsmouth before, much less out of England."
"And you're the lad looking for his father, aren't you? What was the name?"
"He's called William Turner, just like I am. Last I heard he was sailing on the Yancy, making the three-cornered run to Africa and the Caribbean. You don't know him, do you?" asked Will eagerly.
"Afraid not, son. I've heard of the Yancy, but never heard of no William Turner on her. But some men changes ships pretty regular-like. I hope you find him," Ned said.
Will nodded in resignation. He had asked most of the men on board if they knew William Turner, and had received universal negatives. Still, he assured himself, once in port he would have a much better chance.
"Hold on." Johnny cocked his head. "What's that?"
They all three looked over the rail, peering through the fog for the source of the sound. At first Will saw nothing. Then Ned pointed with a trembling hand. "Look!"
Out of the mist loomed a vessel with tattered black sails. Will felt his mouth open as he recognized the symbol on the flag she flew – a skull-and-crossbones. The Berenice was about to be attacked by a pirate ship, despite her own English colors. Will wondered if that meant the pirates were Spanish, retaliating for English privateering efforts. Johnny shook his shoulder. "Wake up, Will. You're not big enough to be much help, I'm afraid. You'd do better to go below. Ned's warning the captain."
"Please, let me help. I'm sure I can do something."
Johnny looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe you can help bring powder from the hold to the cannons. Go on, then, you know where it is. Lend a hand."
The next hour was a whirlwind of activity as the two ships maneuvered and the crew of the Berenice brought their cannon into position. A merchant ship, the Berenice was well-armed and her crew had experience with being attacked. She had fought off a pirate on her last voyage, Johnny had told Will several weeks before. At the time Will had thought that it would be exciting to meet a pirate, but now he began to reconsider.
Loud, that was what it was, and frightening to see the great iron balls tear through the rigging and send bits of the deck spinning off into the water. The sweating men ignored it, so Will tried to as well. He was, conversely, pleased when one of their own shots smashed into the enemy deck and went through the rail.
The firing continued. Will saw that the enemy were preparing grapples, ready to board when they thought that the Berenice was weakened enough. He dodged around the mast and came to a halt on the far side of the deck from the pirate ship. There he paused, not sure what to do. He was afraid to go below, but wanted to stay out of the way; his only knife was a small one, for the table, not for fighting. As he hesitated, the decision was made for him. A shot from an enemy cannon crashed into the deck beside him and hurled him through a gap in the railing.
With a splutter Will managed to get his head above the water. Despite living in a port town his whole life, like most of his comrades, Will had never really learned to swim; at best he could paddle himself about in shallow water for a short time. Several days from landfall – he knew he could never swim so far. He looked about in the water for something to help him keep afloat until, he hoped, the Berenice's crew would have fought off her attackers and might be able to pick him up.
Lady Fortune smiled. A hatch cover from the deck had fallen nearly intact into the water. Will pulled himself up onto it and sprawled out flat to keep it as steady as possible. He used his hands to paddle around so that he could see what was happening to the Berenice. As he watched, it became clear that his friends' valiant efforts were not enough. Shot after shot crashed into the ship. It appeared that the pirates had no intention of taking it with a prize crew, careless of damage as they seemed.
By now Will had drifted far enough from the combat that he could see some of the deck. The pirates had swarmed across and were taking his friends captive, disappearing below and bringing up the most valuable items from the hold, hauling them across to their own ship. Will knew what would happen next, from all the stories he had heard. His expectations were fulfilled when he saw one man emerge from the holds of the Berenice with a torch and the enemy ship disengage its grapples and begin to move off. Will was still watching, wondering what he should do, when the Berenice exploded. He idly noticed a piece of wood hurtling toward him, before pain engulfed him and he knew nothing more.