Chapter 4
15 December, 1659 = Monday

It was nearing midday of the day after leaving port for the first time as privateers that we saw our first ship. I rushed to the prow with my spyglass and looked over the ship as best I could, but the white flag and red cross was hard to miss as it flapped above the three masted vessel.

"It's English!" I yelled to make the crew cheer. "Stiles! Steer us starboard! We'll dodge her aim and pelt her backside!"

"Aye sir!" he yelled happily, turning the ship so we'd steer clear of her guns. A few puffs of white soon followed, but they landed way wide of our ship and seemed to be more warning than threat.

"They'll need to shoot better than that to stave us off," one of the crew near me said.

"They can lay a broadside against us and not stave me off," I told him in all seriousness. "Merchantman are easy to take, especially with a fast, maneuverable vessel."

"Aye sir," he said as he went back to his duties.

I continued to watch the vessel as we slipped to his aft, the other ship seeming to re-orient itself as it shifted its heading. It took me a second to realize what he was trying to do, but I wasn't sure if it would work or not. He was trying to put his ship before the wind to outrun me, and with his square rigged sailing plan, could make better use of the wind than I could with my sloop's lanteen and gaff rigging.

The only catch was, I was light and he was likely running heavy which meant that he wouldn't be as fast even with the wind. As our ships neared each other, close enough to start making out people with the naked eye, my sloop began to fall into the merchantman's wake.

"Run out the starboard cannon!" I yelled to the crew. "Load chainshot and wait for my signal!"

The crew readied the cannons, loading the chainshot as ordered after a charge of powder was rammed in the muzzle. As the guns slid out to firing positions, and the fuse inserted, I looked at the firing pattern. We were a little long on the range, but if it worked, we'd wreck his sails with one shot.

Drawing my cutlass, I raised it high overhead. "Aim your cannons high!" I yelled, and the muzzles were raised as high as they could go.

We were in as good as a firing position as I could figure, and my heart was racing as I was about to order my first firing of the cannons on another ship. A real, sail going vessel.

"FIRE!" I yelled as I dropped my cutlass as a visible cue, and the fuses were lit. In seconds, the ship's four starboard cannon fired in a varying boom boom boom and the chainshot went flying. Arcing high, and watching the opposing captain's face descend into terror, my chainshot spread out so much that I knew only one would hit.

The one that did, tore through the mainsail of the mizzenmast. My crew cheered and hurrahed at the successful hit, but we were beginning to fall behind.

"Hard to starboard!" I yelled back to Stiles. "Run that ship to ground!"

"Aye!" he yelled in acknowledgement. "Tighten the sheets, lads! We're going afore the wind!"

The adrenaline ran high as we turned towards the merchantman. The opposing captain continued to yell orders to his crew, and they tried to find the speed in their ship to continue the run. Hands dropped the damaged sail, and a fresh one was raised as we continued to gain ground. A sharpshooter from the opposing ship started to fire towards us, and several muskets were brought forward to return fire.

My own crew returned fire, the freshening wind clearing the haze afterwards. If nothing else, it made firing accurately more difficult as we neared our target. One of the shots finally made the sniper jerk in the rigging, and the offending weapon fell to the deck. Close enough now to clearly see the captain's fear filled face, my men laid their rifles aside and readied their cutlasses.

"Prepare to board!" I yelled once we were within a hundred feet of the aft of the ship. I could see the ship's name written below the captain's cabin marking the ship as the Onward. My crew rushed the railing, some of the men with hooks attached to strong, thick rope.

As the prow of my ship came abreast of the merchantman, the crew rushed aboard to charge the enemy crew. I was among the crowd of those who charged, but I turned aft to where I had last seen the captain. I found him on the poop deck, so I charged up the stairs and squared off with him.

It was my first real sword fight, and not being used to a cutlass, was a bit slower than the captain on the initial parry and thrust, and he dutifully turned me around in an attempt to force me off the rear of the ship. Still, I managed to keep him at sword's length, ducking a high chop as I slashed low. My cutlass scored blood, and he fell back a half step to recover.

High on adrenaline, I began to aggressively hack at the opposing captain's cutlass, further forcing him back until a baseball like swing knocked his sword over the railing. Disarmed, and at the point of my sword, he raised his hands and yielded.

"I yield!" he cried as I put the sword under his chin. Knowing that I wouldn't be so easily forgiven for killing an unarmed prisoner, I lowered my sword at his cry, and looked around. The British sailors were surrendering, and my crew cheered.

"Round 'em up!" I yelled to my men.

"Going to turn us adrift in a boat to row for home?" the other captain asked.

"Nifty idea," I told him, liking that I wouldn't have to worry about keeping prisoners that way and fear a prison break.

"It's not the first time I lost my ship to pirates," he grumbled. "Probably my last though. I'm not as young as I used to be.

"Then it's time to go home and plant a garden," I told him as we walked to a longboat.

"Twenty-two still alive, sir," one of my crew told me.

"Board them aboard the longboat," I told him. "Give them enough water and provisions for two days. They can row their way back to Saint Kitts."

"Aye, sir," he said. The surrendered crew didn't look happy to be forced at sword point into the small craft, but went all the same. Several kegs were put in with them, and then the boat was lowered into the water. The captain gave the order to row, and they began to pull away.

"What do you want to do to with this ship, sir," Stiles asked me. A look at my sloop told me that the sails had been stowed somewhat, so that the ships sailed together with each other and not leaving one behind.

"We take it as a prize," I told him. "Assign a bare crew to this ship, and you can command it yourself if you like."

"I'll keep my posting, if that's alright with you, sir," he told me. "We might want to add a few officers to our crew."

"Call a vote," I said, knowing that this was likely one thing they'd demand of me. "We need a commander for this ship. The lucky man will, as the articles state, get an increased share of the plunder."

"Aye sir," he said, nodding before turning to the crew. "Alright you lot! Form up and ready yourselves for a vote. We need an officer to command this vessel until we head back to port. Any takers?"

I tuned out the vote, less interested in the process than the outcome and headed down into the hold to examine the cargo. Snagging a lantern as I descended into the orlop deck, I found the ship's cargo was mostly basic goods; tea, household items and the like. Nothing highly expensive but necessary common items.

There were also crates of food, which upon examining one turned out to be dried and salted meats from varying sources, potatoes, bags of flour, oats, barley, rye and corn, or it looked like corn anyway. Had to figure each crate weighed at least a thousand pounds, so no easy feat getting them down here. It also made the carrying capacity of this ship impressive, far larger than my semi understandably, but still impressive for the time.

Going back to the main deck, Stiles approached me with a sailor in tow. I had to figure he was the man that won the vote, so he'd be in charge of this new vessel though still under my command as we sailed. I didn't recognize him, though I really didn't fraternize with my crew.

"This be McGregor, captain," Stiles said as he introduced the sailor.

"Very well done on the vote, McGregor," I told him as I shook his hand. "A n extra half share of the loot we take is now yours."

"Thank you, sir," he told me as he doffed his hat in a show of respect.

"Standing orders are to keep this ship safe and her cargo secure," I told him. He nodded his understanding, and I looked around at the assembled crew. "Pick out ten men for your crew and get ready to cast off, McGregor. We gather no loot waiting on our laurels."

"Aye sir!" he called out and turned to the crew. "Who's willing to sail!"

A round of cheers sounded from the crew, and I swung back over to the Badger. Many of the crew joined me, and giving the order, we sailed east for Nevis, an eye on the horizon for signs of sail.