Chapter 14 – I keep My Word

"You can never bee too careful when ones life is at risk."

'6th December 1778,

After spending some time speaking with the Templar captain I came to realise that both the Assassins and the Templars are after the same goal, however their means of achieving this goal are quite different. In the end both sides fight for peace, even though the action of fighting defeats the purpose of their goal. So long as blood is spilt there will never be peace. I wonder if this ancient conflict between the Assassins and the Templars will ever end. Will the Assassins find their peace in the freedom of humanity or will the Templars force it upon us in their efforts to gain control…'

Horatio Nelson awoke to the ringing of morning bells that were struck by the sentry he had placed in the crows-nest. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon and Nelson relied lanterns lit across the deck for visibility. He had remained upon the quarterdeck for the entire night and now that he was rested it was time for the day to begin. Nelson walked slowly across the deck, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the candlelight.

Elizabeta stood over the cargo hold and was practising her swordplay. She had dressed herself once again in her white assassin outfit and as she moved and stepped her platted blonde hair bounced around her shoulders like an angry snake. Sitting on the steps beside the quarterdeck was Dannie. He held a shining silver dagger between his fingers and he examined it extensively, twirling the blade around in his hands. He then took out a cloth and poured some oil into it, which he rubbed onto the metal of the blade, polishing it with great delicacy.

Nelson made his way over to Collingwood, who was still slumbering on the other side of the ship. Collingwood sat in a small wooded chair, his head was back and he had a little straw hat resting over his face. Nelson nudged the sleeping man with his boot. Collingwood's leg rocked and he started to groan. Nelson tried again, but kicked him harder this time. Suddenly Collingwood rolled over and fell hard onto the deck. As he regained his feet he babbled out random words, 'Yes captain. Right away sir!'

Nelson placed a hand on Collingwood's shoulder to steady him, and then he spoke. 'Awaken yourself, and then meet me in the hold to escort the prisoners onto the deck. There are still some things I need to discuss with their captain.'

Collingwood blinked heavily a few times and then responded. 'Yes sir.'

Nelson gathered Elizabeta and together they headed down into the depths of the Brise. They found James asleep in a hammock, swaying back and forth in the muggy compartment of the sleeping quarters. He awoke rather quickly and he followed Nelson out of the room, down a hallway and into the storage hold. The hold was a large area, containing a light load of various spices and planks of wood as well as kegs filled with gunpowder.

Near the entrance of the hold was a single cell, big enough to contain about ten men, maybe more if it was necessary. Next to the cell sat Anderson, half asleep and bored out of his mind. Above them a single lantern offered enough light to see the cell, as well as the exit and some of the cargo that was neatly stacked on the shelves around them.

Anderson stood up upon seeing Nelson and he waited patiently for his commands. Nelson spoke to the entire group. 'Take the prisoners to the deck.' He ordered. 'Have them fed and then get them working. I want the captain brought to my cabin after his meal.'

James opened to gate to the cell and urged to prisoners to move in a steady line up to the deck. Nelson went ahead and watched the prisoners as they stepped onto the deck. The sun was now rising and its glow consumed the ocean and the sky. Nelson had Collingwood un-cuff the mumbling captives. To his right Anderson had set out some charts on a wooden and was now reviewing their coordinates. James stood and watched the prisoners from a distance, careful if they were to try anything sneaky again. Nelson saw a look in the captain's eyes that wasn't there before. It was a stare that made him feel very uneasy. Each of the prisoners was given a food ration of leftover biscuits and dried meat. The captain was the last to receive his food, and even as he ate he continued with his stare.

Nelson couldn't handle it anymore. He pointed to the captain, 'You, come here now.' He ordered.

The captain took a step forward and then scowled at Nelson. 'You Fool.' He uttered. With practised speed the captain reached into his breaches with his right hand and drew out a dagger. It was a strong fine blade. In the same movement he flicked his arm and the dagger was propelled through the air, directly towards Nelson. There was no time to react, but with some stoke of luck the dagger missed his face, brushing past it only a hairs width away.

For a moment Nelson was in the clear. Elizabeta knocked the captain down and held her blade to his throat, and the rest of Nelson's crew had stopped in order to contain the prisoners. Then Nelson turned and saw the tragedy that was behind him. The dagger missed Nelson however the blade had caught Anderson in the neck. Anderson stood for a moment, he placed his hand over the dagger and then he stumbled onto the table beside him. Blood pulsed from the wound and trickled down from his lips so that it dripped and stained his shirt. Suddenly the strength was sapped out of his body and Anderson collapsed onto the table and then again onto the hard wooden deck. There was a loud thud when he fell.

Nelson shouted out and then ran over to him. He rolled Anderson onto his back and stared into his eyes as if it would somehow bring the boy back. Everyone else just stared with wide eyes, utterly helpless. They could all hear Anderson choking and gargling blood as he struggled for breath. Nelson began to weep softly.

Then the French captain started to laugh, it was soft at first and then grew louder in a twisted crescendo. 'Your mission is as futile as your attempts to save this boys life.' The captain taunted.

Nelson felt paralysed. He was completely shattered by Anderson's death, for he was only a boy. A fire began to burn and Nelson's grief was transformed into anger. He rose from Anderson's body. The boy's blood had stained his forearms. Nelson's fury increased as he reached over to his belt and drew out one of his flintlock pistols. Then with increased speed Nelson moved and stood over Anderson's Killer. The captain was still on his knees and the hatred burned in his eyes as he glared up at Nelson.

Nelson loaded the pistol with a little round lead bullet. He cocked back the trigger and placed the nozzle steadily against the captain's forehead. Finally he whispered softly. 'I keep my word.'

The hammer snapped forward and the powder exploded, forcing the little lead ball forward to be driven brutally through the captain's skull. The captain fell to the side as his head exploded and his blood and brains soaked the hard wood deck on which he now lay.