Chapter 38 – Death and Life Together
June 07, 1660

"We commend his soul to God, and his body to the abyss," I said before nodding to Pumbaa who dumped the body of Mathers overboard, the man having survived twelve hours longer than thought but meeting his fate all the same. With the grim work done, my crew returned to their duties as we patrolled north of San Juan.

"Captain," Ella said as she came closer, easier to identify now with her leather eyepatch and the crossed cannons I had embroidered on it as a gift. It was mainly to know to show her I still thought her beautiful and she took it in the spirit offered and wore it constantly. "I need to talk to you."

"What's wrong?" I said as I saw the worry in her eyes.

"My hand," she said as she unwrapped her bandage to show the blackening skin.

"Circulation is going," I said as I looked at it. "That's what I was afraid of. I'll need to treat it right away."

"Okay," she said as I rewrapped it in the bandage. "You got a poultice for it?"

"Colette and I made some," I told her as I forced a smile as I lied to her. "If you'd kindly inform Jasmine to take command for the time being, I'll slip down to the galley and get it ready."

"Thank you," she said with a smile before heading off to catch Jasmine up at the bow. I didn't waste anymore time, quickly descending the ladder and heading for the galley. Colette, upon seeing my haunted eyes hung her head as she took down the meat clever and wrapped it in a towel and set it on the table for me, a knife on top of it and a bowl of some fowl smelling food offal to distract her as we went over the final details, everyone grim faced at the severity of the task at hand.

"Got it ready?" Ella said as she came in, her innocence breaking my heart for the deed I was about to do.

"Sure, take a seat," I said with a false smile as I gestured to a seat Linguini pulled out. Ella took a seat, placing her hand on the table where I unwrapped it as Linguini placed a handkerchief over her eyes.

"What's with the blindfold?" she said as Linguini tied it. "Am I getting shot?"

"Just so you don't have to see me cut your hand open," I lied to her. "Any pain or is it numb?"

"Numb," she said quickly. "Like I slept on it wrong."

"So, you don't feel this?" I said as I pricked her finger with the knife.

"Not a thing," she said as I silently laid the knife down and grabbed the cleaver. Colette heated the cup that we were going to use to cauterize the stump. I gripped her hand in mine, turning the wrist up to expose the veins and give evidence to the work I was supposed to be doing. At Colette's nod that the cup was ready, I raised the cleaver high overhead and brought it down with a thud into the table.

"My hand!" Ella cried as Colette grabbed the deformed appendage and rammed the cup onto the end. Ella screamed as the cup seared her flesh, but the work was done.

"I'm sorry," I told Ella as I cradled her close as she took in her handless arm. "Once gangrene sets in, there's nothing to do but cut it away."

"I thought I was going to keep it," she sobbed as I picked her up and began to carry her out, when an idea hit me. I didn't want her to feel unwanted, and carrying her to her hammock and leaving her would definitely qualify. So, I carried upstairs to my cabin, setting her on my bed before tucking her in. I sat in a chair nearby to watch over her, knowing depression was knocking if not already taking up residence and determined to not lose her. The point became mute before dark when a fever set in.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" she asked me with fear filled eyes as I mopped her forehead with a wet rag.

"It wasn't the fever that killed Mathers," I told her as I tried to assuage her fears. "His broken leg kept throwing blood clots. At least one setup in his lungs, and based on the story I heard about his final hour, seemed like it made its way to his heart."

"What about my hand?" she whined as she held up the stump.

"Not even the same issue," I told her with a smile. "It's just the infection that goes with burns and gangrene. Your body has ways of dealing with it, you just have to wait and let your body heal."

"How?" she asked me so I kept going if only to give her a reason to fight and keep her talking.

"First, it raises the temperature," I explained to her. "Things that make you get sick die in heat. Most of the time, it works and the fever breaks and you're fine. That includes infection, you just have to be patient."

"So why are you worried?" she asked me, which was a valid point.

"Because, sometimes the sickness can go so long or be so bad that the body doesn't survive," I explained to her as I hung my head. "You're in for a bad couple of days."

"Are you going to stay with me?" she asked me, almost sobbing.

"Until the fever breaks," I told her, giving her a warm smile that I really meant. "I won't leave unless I have to go fight a ship, and even then, I'll be back as soon as I can."

It took three days for her fever to break, and not once during all that time did I leave her side except to use my private head. Initially, Ella cried at the thought of dying while on the cusp of being a mother before lapsing into unconsciousness. For three days, she would wake and be surprised to still be alive, even as I assured her she would survive.

"Owen?" she said as she woke on day four as I slept in beside her in a chair, where I'd been for days except to do what was necessary.

"How do you feel?" I asked her as she stretched and moaned, but she looked better. Putting a hand to her forehead, I was surprised to find her fever broken.

"Hungry," she said with a smile. "You said that would be a good sign."

"It is," I said with a smile. "You're fevers broken too. You'll be alright now."

"Really?" she said, a glimmer of hope twinkling in her eye.

"Yeah, really," I said as she threw back the covers. I helped her to her feet where she went to the head, and I could see just how much she'd been sweating by the changes to the color of the sheets. When she emerged, I helped her dress in pants and vest before summoning Monica to bring breakfast for the two of us.

"How am I supposed to dress myself now?" she asked me as she waited for breakfast.

"Buckles," I said, having already thought it over in the long silences of her sleeping. "You won't need but the one hand to fasten them and they're adjustable and strong. For now, I guess you're going to have to have help with the basics until we can get you new clothes."

"Hooray," she said without any joy or myrrh. "I guess it beats being dead."

"Think of this for a bit," I said as I gave her a smile as I tried to lift her spirits. "You can now get fitted for a metal hook to be fit where your left hand was. You can use it to climb, attack, pull or, if needs must, hang effortlessly from the rigging until you free yourself."

"Will it hurt?" she asked me, her tone cautious.

"I used to think people had those things drilled into their arm, then I saw a guy slip his on like a coat. I bet you can even have one fitted to a vest like a piece of armor."

"Huh," she said as Monica brought in breakfast. For the rest of breakfast, Ella fell quiet as she thought it over, relearning the basics now that she had but her right hand to eat with. Many times she tried to reach for something with her left arm only to realize she couldn't grab it and had to resituate everything to her right hand side.

After leaving the wardroom, Merida had her and her cannon crew running drills to resituate her with her job, the actual aiming of the cannon being the hardest part as she had trouble with the elevation screw. It was the sponger that figured out that if he threw his weight over the end of the barrel he could take the pressure off the screw and allow her to turn it one handed.

"Sail ho!" Melody called after the fifth round, Ella and her crew finally looking good in the firing line. I and my crew began to run the fleeing ship down, this one a trade galleon with only four cannons. She gave up once it became clear she couldn't outrun us, and it was plain my double row of cannon would easily outgun her. We boarded without problem, but as I eyed Ella wield her cutlass could see she was contemplating having that hook, or maybe it was just an armored arm.

"El barco es tuyo, pirata diablo," the Spanish captain spat.

"Fleece them," I told Timon, setting aside the likely unsavory comment as I recognized some of it. Timon and Pumbaa stepped forward with a few others and began fleecing the twenty man crew when Timon called out.

"Hey, they're trying to make away with the gold!"

"Secure that boat," I told Timon, then pointed to another one turned over and tied down on the deck. "They can take that one back to San Juan."

"Tiene una fuga!" the captain shouted as Jasmine translated my order.

"He says it has a leak," Jasmine told me when I asked around for someone who spoke their language.

"Give them a bucket," I said as I turned to regard the setting sun, tuning out the arguing match the Spanish captain began having with Jasmine. It wasn't until I heard ringing steel I turned back to see Jasmine holding her sword on the captain who paled as Jasmine advanced. Putting the tip into the captain, she pushed him to and almost over the railing, holding on for dear life lest he fall over even as Jasmine threatened to run him through if he didn't jump.

"Salto," she said icily, jabbing the tip a little into his fleshy meat. The captain looked at the water, then to her, before turning to me. I simply fingered my rapier with my left hand as I figured out Jasmine was forcing him over.

"Throw 'em over!" I called to my men. With cruel smiles, my crew advanced throwing each one violently over the railing into the water before, and at my command, they threw the leaky longboat after them along with the bucket.

"!Vuelve con tus malditas puta madres!" Jasmine shouted to the sputtering men.

"That didn't sound complimentary," I said as she angrily sheathed her sword.

"Knowing sailors, it was probably the truth," she growled as she stared angrily at me as if I dare question her.

Shaking my head, I turned and headed for the wardroom as the customary shakedown of valuables was made as I retrieved the logbook. There wasn't much, but it was added to the growing pile along with the logbook before the scuttling charge was set and lit as we pulled away as the Spanish crew finally began to row for it after righting their longboat and bailing the water to a manageable level.

"Almost not worth taking," Jasmine said as the crew stored the haul away as she and I watched the galleon sink with its cargo.

"At least they had gold and silver," I said as she shrugged and walked away, but it was true. As long as they had money to take, each ship taking was immediately profitable and would only add to my coffers. Turning in the log book was extra to that and the year was coming off very profitable to me, though I still didn't know how to quantify being made a baron, or what even happened to the barony of the Caribbean Islands. I wasn't even aware there was any.

Sucks to be an American at times. We hate, and I mean hate, royalty.