After distracting a pair of guards with thrown rocks, Thomas and John made their way out of the prison and to the shore. A lone rowboat hauled up on the beach awaited them. Together they shoved the craft off the sand, climbed aboard, and began rowing softly towards the anchored Forsaken. Night had fallen over the island of Jamaica. All was quiet and peaceful within the Kingston harbor. Ships tugged at their anchors, boats bobbed on the waves, and surf lapped away at the sandy shores. The noise of the swells masked the splashes created by the oars.
John was the first to speak. "Thomas, I've got some bad news," he said while heaving the oars.
"Is there any other kind?" Thomas asked sarcastically.
"The Brits are on high alert. Someone made an attempt on the Governor's life. Now they have the harbor blockaded. No ships allowed out, or in."
Thomas considered their options. Either wait for the blockade to get lifted, or make sail and utilize cannon. "So we fight our way out."
"Sir?"
"Time isn't on our side, John. Bancroft suspects that he knows the artifact's location. We'll need to make sail tonight in order to intercept."
"The crew won't be in favor of that, Captain."
"We have no choice. If we sit around and wait, we'll get discovered anyway. Then escape won't be possible."
"Guess we'll need to put it to a vote."
"Agreed."
Some time later, the rowboat came alongside the Forsaken, gently bumping against her oaken hull. John made the boat fast to a pair of falls hanging from the boat's davit. Three members of the crew deployed a pilot ladder, then Thomas and John climbed aboard. All five men together hauled the rowboat aboard and secured it to the deck.
After changing out of the stolen uniform and back into his own clothes, Thomas called for a meeting down in the crew quarters. John got the crew awake and assembled. Since most of the crew had been sleeping just moments ago, the quarters were dark. Just a few small lanterns illuminated the gloomy deck. Thomas stood in the center of the quarters, with the crew ringed around him.
"Lads," the young captain addressed his crew, "we are in quite a predicament. Our enemy is on the move, while we're stuck in this harbor. British ships patrol the harbor and its mouth, and the fort's guns are ready to fire. But if we remain, the British will most likely arrest us, then hang us. We must depart tonight. Any objections?"
The Bosun spoke up. "How do we get past the fort, and the patrols?"
"Stealth, Mr. Flanagan," was Thomas' answer. "We'll make sail and ready for battle, all while using as little light as possible. No lights on deck. We make for sea by moonlight."
"Makes sense. But why ready the guns?"
"In case we're fired upon. Have the mortars ready, also."
"Aye aye, sir."
Thomas looked around at the assembled once again. "Any further objections? Aye. All in favor, raise your fist."
Nearly the entire crew hoisted a fist into the air. "Alright lads," said Thomas, "Let's haul anchor, make sail, and ready for battle."
The crew filed out of their quarters, extinguishing lights as they went. Thomas blew out the lantern in his cabin, then doused the stern lanterns on the quarterdeck. The only lighting out on deck came from the moon. Up forward, a group of pirates manned the capstan, heaving in the ponderous anchor. Men up in the rigging loosed the sails, which tumbled from the yardarms, snapping as they unfurled completely. Down on the gun deck, gunports were opened, cannons loaded and run out. Thomas sincerely hoped that they wouldn't need to fire a single shot during their departure, but it never hurt to use caution.
While the crew continued readying the ship, Thomas examined the harbor through his spyglass. No patrol craft roamed the harbor's interior, but two schooners patrolled the mouth. A frigate, anchored just beyond the Port Royal fort, barred any vessels from entering the harbor. In order to escape, the Forsaken would need to deal with all four threats. The frigate obstructed their escape route, and the schooners could give chase, while the fort's guns were capable of doing a number on the Forsaken's hull. In Thomas' eyes, it appeared that a fight was all but inevitable. The pirates needed to shoot their way out.
Thomas ordered the crew to set full sail. Every scrap of canvas the Forsaken possessed was strung up on the rigging, from jib to mainsail to mizzensail. The sails all caught the evening breeze, and the Forsaken began cruising at full sea speed through the harbor, dodging anchored vessels as she sailed past. The pirate ship's dark silhouette was clearly visible against the lights glowing from Kingston's streets. Aware of this, Thomas hastened to direct his vessel toward the cliffs west of city, away from the lights. But the action came too late.
Another ship, one of the British schooners patrolling the harbor's mouth, had noticed the Forsaken's departure. From the pirate vessel's starboard bow, she now steered to intercept the rogue frigate. Thomas watched from the quarterdeck as the schooner closed to hailing distance, steering her bow to port in order to avoid colliding with the Forsaken.
A British officer stood on the schooner's bow "Attention crew of this vessel," he called through a megaphone , "this is the HMS Intrepid. You are attempting to depart from a closed harbor. Heave-to immediately, or you will be boarded."
Thomas ordered the helmsman to steer slightly to port, getting the Intrepid square in the Forsaken's broadside. He waited until the schooner was directly abeam before giving the fateful order.
"Fire starboard!" Thomas roared.
The Forsaken's starboard cannons all opened fire simultaneously, shuddering the ready frigate and obliterating the surprised Intrepid. The din from the guns awoke many of Kingston's citizens. The fort's entire garrison was woken up as well. Cries of shocked and wounded men carried from the Intrepid's deck, while her mainmast crashed like a tree into the harbor. The schooner's crew returned fire with a broadside of their own, but their six port cannons did minimal damage to the much larger Forsaken, which continued making a dash for the safety offered by the open sea.
"How do you like that?!" John shouted mockingly.
With the Intrepid out of the fight, the second British schooner steered to intercept the fleeing pirate ship. Approaching with her opponent on her own starboard side, her crew fired a volley straight at the Forsaken's bow. Three cannonballs smashed into the frigate's hull, one of which carried right through to the gun deck, killing a pirate gunner. Thomas ordered the bow chasers to open fire in response, which they did. The shots, unfortunately, went wide and missed their target.
The schooner banked hard to port, denying the Forsaken a chance to ram her. As she completed her maneuver, something was tossed over her stern and into the sea. Thomas knew from prior engagements the jettisoned object was a 'fire barrel.' These barrels, filled with powder, rigged with a fuse and weighted at one end, would explode when the lit fuse burned up, damaging any nearby vessels. Thomas ordered a turn to starboard, aiming to avoid striking the fire barrel. He succeeded, but the Forsaken came dangerously close to alliding with the cliffs. Only twenty feet separated the ship's hull from the rock faces when Thomas ordered a turn to port.
The fire barrel exploded off the Forsaken's port beam. The blast sent a column of water into the air, but caused no damage.
"Good Lord!" Thomas exclaimed after the explosion.
"What was that, sir?!" the helmsman asked.
"Never mind! Just mind your heading!"
More cannon roared off to port. Turning in that direction, Thomas heard a cannonball whistle over the deck. Behind him the ball smacked uselessly into a cliff. More cannonballs landed in the frigate's hull, blowing holes in her timbers. A chunk of the quarterdeck's port rail was shot away, showering Thomas with splinters. He swiftly swung to the right, avoiding the sudden hail of wood. Where had all this fire come from? Certainly not from the schooner...
A mortar sounded nearby. The fort's gun crews had opened fire!
"Return fire on the fort!" Thomas yelled. He then pointed a finger at the enemy. "Fire mortars! Rain hell on 'em"
The port cannons opened fire, recoiling and belching smoke as they let fly. The mighty roar of cannonfire left Thomas momentarily deafened. Up forward, the mortar crews fired their weapons, launching two explosive shells high into the night sky. A second later, a pair of explosions appeared on the fort's ramparts. Fires broke out atop the walls. A powder barrel exploded, then another one next to it. A cannon was knocked free of its carriage. The flaming bodies of a few unlucky soldiers tumbled over the wall and onto the rocks below. The Forsaken's crew let out a cheer in triumph.
"Keep it together, me trumps!" Thomas called as the cheering died. "We're not out of this yet."
And indeed they weren't. With one schooner out of the fight and the fort damaged, one more schooner and a frigate remained standing.
The second schooner was now off to port, within the safety of the fort's guns. She was steering northwest, close to the wind, likely trying to steer astern of her opponent. Doing so would allow her crew to fire upon the Forsaken's stern almost unchallenged. Thomas wasn't about to permit that. The schooner needed to get stopped right away.
"Helmsman, rudder to port. Port gun crews load chain shot. Aim high!"
The pirate ship began turning to port. Down below, gun crews loaded their cannons with chain shot, then adjusted them to fire at a higher arc. A full volley of chain shot should stop the devious schooner where she floated.
"Fire!" roared Thomas. "Helmsman, midship rudder!"
Twenty cannons erupted all at once, sending their iron projectiles on deadly courses. The schooner shuddered as the chain shot struck home. Immediately her jib was torn free from the bowsprit. Both of the schooner's masts wavered violently, weakened by several impacts. The mainmast fell astern, then dragged the foremast down with it. The demasted British schooner came to a halt. With no propulsion, she began drifting dangerously towards Port Royal. Before she could go aground, however, the schooner's remaining crew smartly dropped anchor. Despite saving their ship, the British sailors had lost their enemy.
Another cheer carried across the pirate ship's deck. This was quickly silenced by more cannonfire, with this volley coming from starboard. The British frigate had weighed anchor and was now steering a southerly course, running parallel with the Forsaken. Thomas ordered some sail brought in, to keep the pirate ship from outpacing her opponent.
"Fire starboard!"
The starboard guns opened fire on the frigate. Twenty new holes appeared on the British ship's hull. Cannonballs rocketed through her gun deck, leaving shattered woodwork and bleeding sailors in their wake. Less than a minute later, the frigate fired another broadside returning the favor to the pirates. Thomas heard the cries of wounded and dying men carry up from below. One pirate up on the main deck was gruesomely torn apart by a cannonball. Another yanked a wooden shard from his arm.
Taking a glance through his spyglass at the enemy frigate's quarterdeck, Thomas spotted a familiar, hated face. The pirate captain's heart filled with rage as he recognized the man. Even in the dim moonlight, the man's identity was beyond clear.
Lieutenant Bertram Weschester.
Time to even the score, Thomas thought as he pocketed the spyglass.
Waiting until both ships were beyond the fort's range, Thomas ordered the helmsman to steer to starboard, with intent to board. He called for the boarding party to arm up, and for the gun crews to ready a second volley. This time he ordered the crews on the main deck to load grapeshot. Within a minute, the Forsaken had closed to within hailing distance of the hostile British frigate. Thomas ordered the gun crews to fire a broadside, with this one doing tremendous damage. Grapeshot pellets flared out across the frigate's deck like shrapnel from an explosion, tearing flesh and severing through rigging. Men cried out pathetically as they died. Blood from bleeding sailors and marines seeped out across the deck, creating a slipping hazard. Such a hazard, Thomas knew, would do little to slow down a crew of bloodthirsty renegades.
"Give 'em a steely kiss!" Thomas shouted with bravado.
The pirate boarding party stormed over to the British vessel, striking down any man left standing on her main deck. They forced open a hatch leading to the gun deck, where a melee ensued. Cutlasses clashed and pistols fired as the crews fought.
Thomas, on the other hand, leapt boldly from the Forsaken's quarterdeck to the enemy's. He nearly fell short of the enemy ship completely, just managing to grab hold of the rail. With great effort, the young man heaved himself aboard. He drew both of his sabers as he straightened up, looking for all world like a demon unleashed from hell. His eyes instantly spotted the face of Bertram Weschester.
"Traitor!" Thomas screamed at his former shipmate.
Another officer, likely the Officer of the Watch, charged at Thomas with a raised saber. Thomas deftly blocked the attack and sidestepped the man, who ran into the railing. He doubled over as he struck the rail. Thomas slashed him across the back, then shoved the hapless man overboard. The pirate captain then made a dash for Weschester, standing just aft of the helm. The Lieutenant had drawn his own saber. Thomas swung at Weschester with his right saber. Weschester, with his free left hand, caught Thomas' arm and headbutted the pirate, causing him to stagger. Weschester stabbed at Thomas, but he deflected the blow and kicked Weschester in the crotch. The Lieutenant crouched and groaned in pain. In a final surge of anger, Thomas stabbed his opponent in the stomach. Then he sheathed his sabers.
Thomas lowered Weschester to the ground. "Why, Bertram?" Thomas asked of the dying man. "Why betray us?"
"Because... you're all dead men walking," Weschester said weakly. "Criminals awaiting judgment."
"We're all doomed to die someday. What did Bancroft offer you? Land? Money?"
"Order. I've seen how this world is falling to chaos, where brigands like you roam free, not bound by any laws but your own. It's despicable."
"It's freedom. Bancroft is a Templar. He and his mates wish us all enslaved. Is that what you want for the world."
"If it keeps the peace... yes. There must be order."
Thomas stood up. "Keep living the dream," he said just before executing Bertram Weschester with his own saber.
The pirate captain stood alone on the quarterdeck, listening as the melee below decks continued. With the traitor dead, only Admiral Damion Bancroft stood between the pirates and their invaluable prize.