Honors Rendered by Robert N. Macomber

Author:Robert N. Macomber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pineapple Press
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

We were getting close to the blackbirder. Thankfully, no moon was showing and the stars were covered. The sky was black with banks of low clouds. I could barely see the ship ahead, so it must’ve been doubly hard for them to make out our small boat. In any event, no challenge came from Dunkels Geld.

We took no chances even so. Everyone was clothed in black. No one stood up or spoke above a whisper. Our men rowed muffled oars with deliberate strokes. In the bow crouched Bosun Jack, looking like an old hairy bear ready to spring. He had a rusting cane knife clenched in his teeth, a belaying pin in his right hand, and a butcher knife in his left.

I noted that the only people carrying firearms were Irons, Aukai, and myself. And Jane Cushman, with her little derringer. The crew was apparently not trusted or trained enough to handle guns, which I thought quite telling.

We shipped oars and coasted up to the anchor chain. Bosun Jack leaped for the hawse pipe, rattling the damned thing while the oarsmen held the boat steady. I expected a volley of grapeshot, but nothing happened. Jack poked his head over the gunwale and grinned, then whispered something down to us.

Three of his fellows pulled themselves up to join him on the foredeck. The rest of us pulled the boat along the starboard side of the hull to the forechains, where Irons led the way up to the deck. So far, everything was as quiet as a graveyard. Jane stayed in the boat, per Irons’ orders, to help the one man there keep it close against the schooner.

When I reached the main deck, I saw a dozen forms collapsed in various attitudes on the deck, some snoring great blasts, others dead to the world. The air reeked of rum, gin, urine, and vomit.

Peering aft, I saw one figure sitting on deck, leaning back on the binnacle box by the wheel, his head resting on his shoulder. One of our men stumbled on the foredeck near the capstan. Something metallic fell on the deck and woke the man at the wheel. He started to move unsteadily, his hands groping for support to pull himself up. By the time he was able to stand, two of our number pinioned him from behind with a knife to the throat and hand over his mouth. Another man took possession of the revolver in the man’s belt. Luckily, no one else woke up.

That was fortunate, as it would’ve meant a bloody fight, for there were weapons everywhere: axes, machetes, pikes, belaying pins, shotguns, pistols, and rifles, all either on or within easy reach of the blackbirders.

Irons and I carefully walked aft among the sleepers and took a look at our first prisoner. Leaning close to the man’s face, Irons examined the now wide-awake German. The man eased his struggles when he saw white men among the pirates who had taken his ship, knowing his chances of survival had grown.

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