A Sly Bird

Chained as he was to the cargo deck of a frigate bound for Spain, Edward found himself with time to think upon his experiences in Havana. He had to admit that perhaps his father was right about him; he rarely thought a situation through before acting. Trying to pass himself off as Duncan Walpole without knowing one whit about the man, his organization, or his business with Governor Torres, hadn't been the best decision in hindsight. Edward's lust for gold eventually outed him as an imposter and he'd been beaten, stripped of his weapons, and tossed onto a ship in the Spanish treasure fleet.

But all was not lost. The ship's captain had made sure to take his weapons, but tucked away undetected in a hidden pocket in the coat's lining was a document Edward had stolen from Torres and his Templar cronies, Woodes Rogers and Julien du Casse. He didn't understand it, but it had been valuable to Torres and should prove useful in time. He thought back on the conversation about the mysterious place these men called The Observatory.

x~X~x

"Decades ago, the Counsel entrusted me with the task of locating in these West Indies a forgotten place our precursors once called the Observatory. See here." Torres unfolded a document and pointed to strange markings. "Look upon these images and commit them to memory. They tell a very old and important story. For two decades now, I have endeavoured to find this Observatory, a place once rumoured to contain a tool of incredible utility and power. It houses a kind of armillary sphere, if you like. A device that would grant us the power to locate and monitor every man and woman on earth, whatever their location.

"Only imagine what it would mean to have such power. With this device, there would be no secrets among men. No lies, no trickery, only justice. Pure justice. This is the Observatory's promise, and we must take it for our own."

"Do we know its whereabouts?" Woodes Rogers asked.

"We will soon, for in our custody is the one man who does. A man named Roberts, once called a sage."

Julien du Casse tilted his head to one side, frowning. "It has been forty-five years since anyone has seen a true sage. Can you be sure this one is authentic?"

"We are confident he is," Torres said.

"The Assassins will come for him," Rogers said.

Torres smiled. "Indeed they will. But thanks to Duncan and the information he has delivered, the Assassins won't be a problem for much longer. All will be made clear tomorrow, gentlemen, when you meet the sage for yourselves. Until then, let's drink."

As Torres poured red wine for his guests, Edward circled the table and took the document depicting the sphere within the Observatory, slipping it into his pocket.

"Let us find the Observatory together," Torres said, handing each of his guests a goblet of wine. "For with its power, kings will fall, clergy will cower, and the hearts and minds of the world will be ours."

x~X~x

Edward's thoughts drifted to the group of assassins that had attacked him, Torres, Rogers, and du Casse when they'd collected the sage, Roberts. In spite of the nearly overwhelming number of them, Edward and the others had managed to avoid serious injury, killing their attackers. Even so, after all that, saving Torres's life, and enduring the effects of a blow dart's poison, the Governor paid him such a paltry amount of money that Edward determined he would sneak back into the estate that night to see the sage for himself. They had all underestimated Roberts, however. The sage had escaped and killed several of Torres's soldiers on his way out, and of course Edward, who hadn't seen any of it happen, was caught standing in the middle of the mess with no good explanation for his presence there.

And now you're here, you fool. You need to find a way of out of this, Edward told himself, resolving to end the circle in which his mind was dancing. The ship was rolling in such a way that he knew a storm was brewing, and he could tell by the way the Spanish were behaving that they were not comfortable with the rough seas. He thought the fleet might have stopped moving altogether and decided the time to make an escape was near. The prisoner next to him was a formidable looking man, African if he had to guess, large and muscular. A slave, to be sure, and most likely very willing to make a break for it.

His thoughts were interrupted when a Spaniard entered the room, shouted at them and tossed a tin plate with a single piece of bread on it onto the floor between Edward and his fellow prisoner. The soldier turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

"You hungry, Mate?" Edward said, making eye contact with the man before he tipped his head toward their shackles.

The man gave him a sharp nod and they leaned forward to grab the bar that held their ankles to the deck. Giving it a few good hard tugs to one side, they broke the lock off and freed themselves.

Standing, Edward and his newfound friend made their way toward the bow of the ship, where their weapons were stored. They encountered only a few soldiers and killed them quickly and quietly. Reaching the forecastle, they found their things laid out on a table.

"We're stealing a ship," the slave said. "Get what you need."

"Aye." Edward reached for his swords and looked at the hidden blades Julien du Casse had given to him when they first met. They had proven useful and he needed all the weaponry he could find if they were to make good on escaping. Grabbing them, he strapped them onto his wrists. The slave had found his own weapons and looked to Kenway.

Nodding, Edward went to the door and opened it slowly, peering out to see if any Spaniards were in sight. Seeing none, he waved his accomplice into the next room toward the ladder leading up to the main deck. He took the lead, easing the trap open to look for signs of the crew. He could hear voices at the bow of the ship. The wind was getting stronger; they wouldn't have much time to make good on this escape before the weather complicated things dearly.

Edward opened the hatch and climbed out, holding it open for the man.

"There's many prisoners held on these ships. Set them free and they'll sail with us, no question."

Edward nodded. "So that's the idea then? Free what men we can, then find a fast ship to flee in?"

"Aye. There's a brig in this fleet."

"Go, I'll make my way 'round to you." He slapped the man on his upper arm and watched as he slipped overboard.

Shielding his eyes from wind and rain, Edward spotted a group of sailors near the bow of the ship. Five guards stood between them and his current location. Havana had taught him that secrecy and caution was often more effective than the plain brute force that had served him well enough in the past, and so he moved carefully, planning each step he took. Hiding behind crates of cargo, he whistled to draw the attention of a guard. When the man ventured close enough, he used his hidden blades to sever the man's throat, setting him down against the cargo. The other ships in the fleet were closeby, but as he made his way forward, killing one guard after another, it appeared that the Spaniards were most concerned about the brewing storm and believed themselves to be safe from all other dangers. Even as their ships bumped hulls together in the churning seas, no one was paying much mind to what was happening beyond their own decks.

As he cut the first group of sailors free, he whispered to them, "There's a catch to this favor. You're sailing with me."

"I'd follow you to hell for this, Mate," one man replied, shaking Kenway's hand vigorously.

"There's a brig in this fleet. We'll be taking her. Get to it and make ready to sail."

The men needed no further encouragement and made their way overboard, swimming toward the brig, the El Dorado. Climbing up the foremast to the yard, Edward crossed over to the next ship's mast and examined the deck. There was no sign of the crew and only a few soldiers guarded a group of pirates chained below. One pirate happened to look up and see Edward and he smiled briefly before going limp and falling back onto the deck. This distracted two guards and Edward dropped down between them, burying his blades in their necks. Throwing a knife into the eye of a third officer nearby, he took a quick look around and saw that no one else had seen or heard the disturbance.

"Come on, lads. If we're to drown today, it won't be here. Where's the crew?" he asked one sailor as he freed the men.

"Below deck, Mate. They was ordered to secure the cargo proper before setting sail again."

Nodding, Kenway pointed them toward the El Dorado and continued to make his way from ship to ship, climbing up one mast, crossing a yard, leaping to the next mast. Here, he managed to free a group of sailors without killing a single officer. Again, he climbed the foremast, ran along the yard to the next ship. There were only two men on deck below him. There were other soldiers at the bow of the ship and he assumed the prisoners were being held below deck. Climbing down the ratlines, he approached the soldiers nearest him and killed them both. Wiping his blades on one man's coat, he found the main hold's trap door.

Easing himself down into the hold, he realized he would have to dispatch half a dozen or more soldiers before he would be able to search for their captives. Setting out to get the job done, he favoured speed over stealth and fought his way forward until he found eight men tied up in the ship's orlop. Killing the one man who was standing watch over them, he crouched down to loosen their bonds.

"Get his blades, theirs too," he said, pointing to the bodies of two more men a few feet away. "We're going topside. Be ready."

He was glad to see that these men all appeared to be in reasonable health and willing to follow his lead. They each stood, flexed weary muscles, and armed themselves, waiting as Edward freed the next man. When they were finally ready, he pointed to a ladder nearby. Eager to escape, the men scrambled up the ladder and out onto deck, attacking those who stood between them and freedom.

"To the brig, Lads!" Edward shouted as he climbed up onto the side of the ship.

Diving into the water, he swam for all he was worth and pulled himself up onto the side of the brig, straining against the weight of his wet clothes. He could hear someone shouting on the quarterdeck and made his way around to the stern to get behind the man. Here, he passed the windows of the captain's quarters and paused to look through a clear pane of glass. The room was full of trunks and wardrobes, the table piled high with treasures, and he smiled. If they survived, they would have some loot to share. Continuing up, he stepped onto the deck and rushed the captain, slitting his throat and tossing him overboard. All along the deck, he could see the men he'd rescued fighting with the remaining crew, pushing men overboard. His accomplice waved from the bow, giving him what he assumed was a signal that they were clear.

Looking to the skies, Edward knew they had little time to get away from the fleet and make good on their escape, and he began shouting out orders. "Lay aboard, Lads!"

The black man was running back to the quarterdeck, shouting as he went. "Save your singing for Davy Jones, you jagabats! It's a hard wind coming!"

"The man speaks true. You lot weigh anchor!" Edward called out, pointing to a group of men below him. "As for the rest, half on the foremast and half on the main. Let's outrun this hurricane!" He was pleased to see that no one hesitated; every man ran to his station and prepared to sail.

Gripping the wheel, he turned to face his companion."Keep an eye on those galleons. See they don't give us any trouble."

"They won't," the man said, gripping the quarterdeck's railing. "Far too slow for this weather."

"Bark any orders you think wise, Mate! We're up against it here," Edward said.

"These men know their place. They'll see us home," the man replied.

"Incoming fire! Larboard, Captain!" someone yelled.

The brig was picking up speed now that the sails were unfurled and secured, and Edward steered her hard to starboard.

"Ready to fire, Captain!" another sailor cried out.

"Fire!"

The gunboat trying to follow them took a direct hit and the man who'd fired the cannon let out a victorious whoop and quickly set about reloading. The men who'd weighed anchor were tossing fire barrels overboard into the path of a second gunboat, firing upon them with a swivel gun mounted on the quarterdeck. Two shots and the gunboat sank.

"Look out, Mate, there's a rogue wave!"

"I see it," Edward said, steering the ship further to starboard, taking the wave head on.

Several waterspouts were forming all around them, the wind was fierce, and the enemy was still in pursuit. Cannon fire slammed into the larboard side and a man who had been clinging to the rat lines, acting as scout, went overboard. "It's not looking good!" Edward shouted as he fought to keep control of the ship.

Beside him, his companion gave him a stern look and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Steady as she goes, Mate! Focus on the task at hand."

Edward had dreamed of owning his own ship for most of his life, yet for just the briefest of moments, it seemed too daunting a task. But these men were looking to him for guidance and some were already calling him Captain. The ship and the lives of over twenty men were in his hands, and he drew himself up and scanned the area. The Spanish treasure fleet was beginning to fall behind, the storm wreaking havoc on their ships. The El Dorado was wounded, but holding steady, and he knew he could steer her clear of the storm to safety.

Setting his sights on a sliver of blue sky on the horizon, he sailed the brig toward it. Around him, men shouted out if enemy fire, a wave, or water spout was coming. As they gained distance on the fleet, the warnings ceased, and while they weren't yet clear of the storm, Edward felt himself settle into the role of Captain. It was a feeling unlike any other he'd ever experienced and he aimed to savour it for as long as he could.

A/N: A ship's orlop is an area where cable/rope is stowed. According the interwebs, the term larboard was use in the British Navy until the mid-1800s when it was abandoned for the term port. Who knew? My thanks to Ubisoft for a story worth playing with, to Zevgirl and Zute for their continued friendship and good humour, and to everyone else who is tagging along with me. Have a great weekend! Cheers, Biff