Passage to St. Kitts
Chapter 8
*Author's Note ** This story has only been reviewed once so far (Thank you Poppy Brook), so I'm feeling like I'm sending it out into the void. Please let me know that SOMEONE is reading it!
"Very good!" said Will, as the fencing lesson continued in the blacksmith shop. "Block with the edge of the blade, it's stronger than the flat."
Joseph grinned. "So, you will teach me to fight like you did this morning?"
"Certainly, if that's what you want," Will replied. "It takes a long time to master the art, but if you work at it there is no reason you can't become proficient. You've made an excellent start, Joseph. You've a talent for swordplay."
"Thank you, sir," Joseph said.
Will poured water into two mugs and handed one to Joseph. "Whew! That was a work out. We can do some more tonight if you like. It's easier to learn using a fencing foil, then you don't have to worry about accidentally hurting your opponent. Perhaps I should bring some foils down here."
Joseph took a long drink of water. "That woman, Annamaria. You said she was not a slave?"
Will stoked up the fire in the forge. "Yes. She was a slave when she was a child. No longer."
"How does a slave become free?" Joseph asked in a rush, as if afraid the mere question would bring trouble down on him.
Will looked at him consideringly. "Annamaria ran away. She was lucky enough to not be caught, and those of us who care about her make certain she stays safe. She usually stays aboard ship, it's safer for her that way." Will turned back to the fire. "If you are thinking of running away, Joseph, please don't. I'd hate to see what would happen to you if they caught you. When you've found the place you want to be, I'll free you. In the meantime, I need the help here in the shop. Besides," he smiled with a roguish smile reminiscent of a certain pirate captain, "If you run off I won't be able to finish teaching you to use a sword."
Joseph still looked troubled. "Why would you free me?"
Will shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't like the thought of owning another person."
After a moment of silence, Joseph spoke again. "So, that Annamaria. Is she your woman?"
"Good God, no!" said Will. "My wife is enough for me, I don't need a mistress as well." He glanced slyly at Joseph out of the corner of his eye. "I don't believe she has anyone in her life at the moment." The fire was stoked to Will's satisfaction and he shoved several long pieces of metal into it to heat. "Here," he said. "Let me show you how to make a nail."
--
Elizabeth stepped into her father's study, untying the ribbons of her hat as she did so. "Oh, there you are, Elizabeth," said Governor Swann. He was sitting at his desk, leafing through a heavy bible. "I've just been updating the family bible." He picked up a letter. "Your Aunt Julia has just given birth to another son."
Elizabeth tossed her hat onto a chair and came forward, taking the letter from her father's hand. "Another one? How many does this make, five?"
"Six, actually," said the Governor. "She's named this one Roland, after our brother."
"Roland?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't recall an that you had a brother named Roland."
"Yes, see?" The Governor pointed to the entry in the family tree. "He was a few years younger than me. Died about the same time you were born."
"Really?" asked Elizabeth. "What became of him?"
"Oh, he'd traveled out here to the West Indies. He was quite the adventurer, you know. He died in a duel. I'd received a letter from him dated a few weeks before his death telling me he'd found the love of his life. Then the next I'd heard was that he'd been killed. Apparently the lady's relatives didn't approve of him." The Governor smiled. "He was always a bit of a rake." He signed and shook his head. "Has it really been twenty years?"
--
Commodore Norrington stretched lazily. A glance at the porthole in his cabin showed the time to be very early morning, shortly after dawn. Tossing back the blanket, Norrington rose. Pouring a small amount of water into a basin he washed his face and hands, then got out his shaving kit. He was nearly finished shaving when the call of "Sails!" was heard. With a slight frown, Norrington rubbed a towel over his face, and hastened to dress. He was buttoning his waistcoat when he heard the cannon fire. Quickly he shoved his arms into his coat, slung his sword belt over his shoulder and jammed his wig and hat on his head. Rushing to the helm he found Gillette screaming orders at the crew. Quickly Norrington took stock of the situation. The Spanish ship approached rapidly on the starboard side. Her guns spoke again, and the Defender shuddered as several balls hit her side with a sickening crash.
"We're taking on water!" shouted a sailor. It was true, the cannons had punctured the side of the ship and water was pouring into the hold.
"We're going to sink!" gasped Gillette.
"Abandon ship!" shouted Norrington. "Make ready the boats! All hands on deck!" The crew rushed from their stations to the deck, and feverishly worked to lower the boats. Norrington and Gillette directed the efforts as best they could in the confusion. The Defender was sinking rapidly, the deck listing at a treacherous angle. Finally, the two officers were the last aboard and helped lower the last boat into the water. "Go!" shouted Norrington to Gillette.
"But Commodore. what about you!" he shouted back.
"GO! That's an order!" commanded Norrington, grasping Gillette by the shoulder and shoving him from the rail into the water next to the boat, where he was quickly hauled aboard by the sailors. Norrington looked around toward the Spanish ship, which was coming nearer. He was about to jump into the water near the longboat himself, when the Defender groaned loudly. A loud snapping was heard as the weight of the water rushing into the hold crushed the support timbers that made up the framework of the ship. Norrington was flung to the deck, and rolled down the tilting deck against the rail, which was already partially submerged. Seeing no choice, he dove into the water and swam as hard as he could away from the ship. When he was about a fifty yards from the Defender, he judged it safe to stop and collect his bearings. Grasping a large wooden crate, which was floating nearby, he looked around for the boats holding the Defender's crew. But the boat that was within six feet of him did not belong to the Defender. Norrington did not understand the Spanish words directed at him, but the pistol leveled at his head needed no translation. Obeying, he allowed himself to be hauled into the boat.
Chapter 8
*Author's Note ** This story has only been reviewed once so far (Thank you Poppy Brook), so I'm feeling like I'm sending it out into the void. Please let me know that SOMEONE is reading it!
"Very good!" said Will, as the fencing lesson continued in the blacksmith shop. "Block with the edge of the blade, it's stronger than the flat."
Joseph grinned. "So, you will teach me to fight like you did this morning?"
"Certainly, if that's what you want," Will replied. "It takes a long time to master the art, but if you work at it there is no reason you can't become proficient. You've made an excellent start, Joseph. You've a talent for swordplay."
"Thank you, sir," Joseph said.
Will poured water into two mugs and handed one to Joseph. "Whew! That was a work out. We can do some more tonight if you like. It's easier to learn using a fencing foil, then you don't have to worry about accidentally hurting your opponent. Perhaps I should bring some foils down here."
Joseph took a long drink of water. "That woman, Annamaria. You said she was not a slave?"
Will stoked up the fire in the forge. "Yes. She was a slave when she was a child. No longer."
"How does a slave become free?" Joseph asked in a rush, as if afraid the mere question would bring trouble down on him.
Will looked at him consideringly. "Annamaria ran away. She was lucky enough to not be caught, and those of us who care about her make certain she stays safe. She usually stays aboard ship, it's safer for her that way." Will turned back to the fire. "If you are thinking of running away, Joseph, please don't. I'd hate to see what would happen to you if they caught you. When you've found the place you want to be, I'll free you. In the meantime, I need the help here in the shop. Besides," he smiled with a roguish smile reminiscent of a certain pirate captain, "If you run off I won't be able to finish teaching you to use a sword."
Joseph still looked troubled. "Why would you free me?"
Will shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't like the thought of owning another person."
After a moment of silence, Joseph spoke again. "So, that Annamaria. Is she your woman?"
"Good God, no!" said Will. "My wife is enough for me, I don't need a mistress as well." He glanced slyly at Joseph out of the corner of his eye. "I don't believe she has anyone in her life at the moment." The fire was stoked to Will's satisfaction and he shoved several long pieces of metal into it to heat. "Here," he said. "Let me show you how to make a nail."
--
Elizabeth stepped into her father's study, untying the ribbons of her hat as she did so. "Oh, there you are, Elizabeth," said Governor Swann. He was sitting at his desk, leafing through a heavy bible. "I've just been updating the family bible." He picked up a letter. "Your Aunt Julia has just given birth to another son."
Elizabeth tossed her hat onto a chair and came forward, taking the letter from her father's hand. "Another one? How many does this make, five?"
"Six, actually," said the Governor. "She's named this one Roland, after our brother."
"Roland?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't recall an that you had a brother named Roland."
"Yes, see?" The Governor pointed to the entry in the family tree. "He was a few years younger than me. Died about the same time you were born."
"Really?" asked Elizabeth. "What became of him?"
"Oh, he'd traveled out here to the West Indies. He was quite the adventurer, you know. He died in a duel. I'd received a letter from him dated a few weeks before his death telling me he'd found the love of his life. Then the next I'd heard was that he'd been killed. Apparently the lady's relatives didn't approve of him." The Governor smiled. "He was always a bit of a rake." He signed and shook his head. "Has it really been twenty years?"
--
Commodore Norrington stretched lazily. A glance at the porthole in his cabin showed the time to be very early morning, shortly after dawn. Tossing back the blanket, Norrington rose. Pouring a small amount of water into a basin he washed his face and hands, then got out his shaving kit. He was nearly finished shaving when the call of "Sails!" was heard. With a slight frown, Norrington rubbed a towel over his face, and hastened to dress. He was buttoning his waistcoat when he heard the cannon fire. Quickly he shoved his arms into his coat, slung his sword belt over his shoulder and jammed his wig and hat on his head. Rushing to the helm he found Gillette screaming orders at the crew. Quickly Norrington took stock of the situation. The Spanish ship approached rapidly on the starboard side. Her guns spoke again, and the Defender shuddered as several balls hit her side with a sickening crash.
"We're taking on water!" shouted a sailor. It was true, the cannons had punctured the side of the ship and water was pouring into the hold.
"We're going to sink!" gasped Gillette.
"Abandon ship!" shouted Norrington. "Make ready the boats! All hands on deck!" The crew rushed from their stations to the deck, and feverishly worked to lower the boats. Norrington and Gillette directed the efforts as best they could in the confusion. The Defender was sinking rapidly, the deck listing at a treacherous angle. Finally, the two officers were the last aboard and helped lower the last boat into the water. "Go!" shouted Norrington to Gillette.
"But Commodore. what about you!" he shouted back.
"GO! That's an order!" commanded Norrington, grasping Gillette by the shoulder and shoving him from the rail into the water next to the boat, where he was quickly hauled aboard by the sailors. Norrington looked around toward the Spanish ship, which was coming nearer. He was about to jump into the water near the longboat himself, when the Defender groaned loudly. A loud snapping was heard as the weight of the water rushing into the hold crushed the support timbers that made up the framework of the ship. Norrington was flung to the deck, and rolled down the tilting deck against the rail, which was already partially submerged. Seeing no choice, he dove into the water and swam as hard as he could away from the ship. When he was about a fifty yards from the Defender, he judged it safe to stop and collect his bearings. Grasping a large wooden crate, which was floating nearby, he looked around for the boats holding the Defender's crew. But the boat that was within six feet of him did not belong to the Defender. Norrington did not understand the Spanish words directed at him, but the pistol leveled at his head needed no translation. Obeying, he allowed himself to be hauled into the boat.