H.M.S Valor by Cal Clement

Author:Cal Clement [Clement, Cal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

‘Gazelle’

18 Sept 1808

17 Degrees 48’ N, 76 Degrees 7’ W

A hopelessness had engulfed everyone aboard the Gazelle. The sailors, who at first had taken a vigor to their work of sailing the ship as if their lives depended on it, had fallen into a surrendered temperament. The snappy shouts and crisp replies had faded to a tone of resign. The two ships off their stern had spent the day pursuing them at a pace the small band of sailors and inexperienced Africans just simply could not endure. As the sun drew lower into the west the sails grew larger behind them until detail of each vessel became more and more pronounced to the naked eye. When the winds began to shift from the east to southeast a sail adjustment became necessary. To the aggravation of the sailors aboard the line adjustment was too much for the four of them to accomplish without aid from some of the Africans. One of the African men who tried to assist them heaving a line lost his footing, causing the man next to him to trip and the team lost their line spilling wind from the sails at a critical moment. The lack of knowledge or coordination from the Africans enraged the sailors who were desperately trying to evade their pursuers and miserably failing to do so.

Dr. Lemeux stood on the aft castle looking out over the narrowing expanse of sea separating the Gazelle from the stalking predators behind her. The dark clouds overhead threatened another storm, which they could not weather and the ships approaching would have them in their grip before nightfall. The situation seemed utterly hopeless and Lemeux began thinking he may be responsible for signing death warrants for every soul aboard. Then, as if cued by his mental anguish, the stalking ships unfurled large black banners billowing out into the wind.

“Pirates, damn!” one of the sailors lamented.

“What of their banner? Is it one you know?” another asked.

“No. It’s not one I’ve heard of before.” the first sailor answered.

“Maybe it is good, an unknown pirate crew, maybe they aren’t so terrible.”

“Shut up you idiot,” the first sailor balked, “It likely means they don’t make a habit of leaving anyone alive to tell tales.”

The horned skull floated over the decks of the imposing ships as the distance closed and Lemeux felt his heart sink farther with each passing moment. The menacing black eyes of the horned skull seemed to mock their waning attempts to flee and the trident canted behind drew a shiver from LeMeux as his eyes traced over it. He looked around the gathered Africans on deck. What business did he have starting a mutiny and sentencing all these people to their deaths? Would a pirate crew really murder a ship full of stolen men, women and children? His head swam in a furious circle of questions and fears as his eyes welled up until the banner behind them became a black blur floating over a formless ship. God damn them all.

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