The Wake of the Lorelei Lee: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, On Her Way to Botany Bay by Louis A. Meyer

Author:Louis A. Meyer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Juvenile Nonfiction, Fiction, Boats, Boys & Men, Transportation, Men, Boys, Social Issues, Girls & Women, Ships & Underwater Craft, Juvenile Fiction, Seafaring life, Orphans & Foster Homes, People & Places, Australia & Oceania, Action & Adventure - General, Action & Adventure, Family, Prisoners, General, Sex role, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction
ISBN: 9780547327686
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2010-08-15T05:00:00+00:00

The hatch ports are open to let out the heat of the galley stove, and we can hear the sounds of the normal routine outside—the ringing of the bells of the watch, commands to the sailors trimming the sails, and—

"On deck, there! Sail ho! Due east!"

I am on my feet in an instant, spilling poor Jezebel to the floor in my haste. This cannot be good! Pausing only to plunge into our quarters to grab my long glass and yell out, "Powder Monkeys! On deck now. Take your stations!" I rush out on deck.

A quick glance confirms that there is indeed a ship out to our port side, its sails just showing over the horizon. Throwing the telescope's lanyard around my neck, I leap into the rigging, and in a moment I am standing next to the lookout in the crow's-nest with my long glass to my eye.

It is not just one sail! There are three and they are corsairs!

"Battle stations!" I shriek, as I fly back down to the quarterdeck. "Clear for action!"

As my feet hit the deck, I hear, "If you don't mind, Convict Faber, I will give the orders around here."

It is Captain Laughton, his own glass to his eye. Mr. Ruger stands beside him.

"They are Arab pirates!" I cry. "I know, I have encountered their kind before! See that one there, he's flying the Black Colors, under his masthead! And there! The others do the same! They mean to frighten us into submission! They mean to take us!"

"They could be fishermen," replies the Captain, doubtfully. "Or they could be honest merchants."

"Fishermen do not come this far out, and if they are merchants, why are they coming straight for us? Oh, please, Sir, turn away and let us fly from them!"

"Oh, very well. Mr. Ruger, bring her right. Steer due west. We shall see if they alter course to follow us."

"Right your rudder, steady on course two nine zero," barks the First Mate. "Top men aloft to make sail!" He turns to me. "You. Get your ass off the quarterdeck."

Casting him a resentful look, I go down to the main deck to get my girls ready, while men scurry up the ratlines to trim the sails to the new course. When the Lorelei Lee falls off and comes to the new course, it is plain that the Arab ships do the same. There is no mistaking their intention now.

Corsairs—lanteen rigged ... Not usually well-armed, but fast and full of fierce, cutlass-swinging fighters—they rely on their swiftness to get close to their prey so that their swordsmen can swarm aboard and overwhelm any resistance. What they lack in firepower, they make up in sheer numbers. Cannon and powder are costly, but desperate men who will fight for a share of any prize are not.

My girls, as instructed, are lined up down the centerline—Ann, Molly, Mary, and Esther will service the port and starboard guns, depending upon which side is engaged, and Mairead will handle the forward gun. I will be on the after nine-pounder because I figure that will be the one getting the most use.

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