CHAPTER 9

Tao scoffs slightly, “You really mean, 'Fuck us all' Utah. This ship is nothing to take lightly. Have any of you heard the name 'Muerte Dolorosa'?”

I shake my head, but I guess it's Doc Zale's turn to shit himself.

“That's the ship piloted by the Spaniard Woman. The one that was a highly decorated captain in the Spanish Navy. But, on one voyage her crew found out she was a woman. Since women can't be in their navy, much less be a captain, her first mate superseded her. After that, details get hazy, but they continued on their mission as if nothing happened. At some point she told the new captain that the harbor they were attacking was too well defended. Well, apparently after this the captain 'gave' her to the crew. Then marooned her on an island by herself.”

I look a the doctor expectantly, “What happened to her? What happened to the crew?”

Tao takes over the story, “She was picked up by some buccaneers looking for fresh water. She slowly made her way to the Conglomerate from there. As for her crew, their ship was sunk in that harbor. Not one survived.”

“Well, I guess I can see what makes her so angry, but killing whole crews like that? It's kinda harsh. The ship’s name fits though.”

Tao nods his head in agreement. Doc Zale looks at me imploringly, “Well I'm glad you two know some Spanish, but do you mind clueing an old Englishman in?”

Tao tells him without looking up from the floor, “Painful Death.” Doc Zale just shakes his head.

“Well guys, the atmosphere is too fucking depressing for me down here. I guess I'm gonna go up and let everyone know how fucked we are.” As I turn to leave, Tao tries to get up. I leave the room with the doctor trying to tell Tao why he can't get up.

As I get topside, the atmosphere has gotten much more relaxed. You hear the mortar now, but the shots are landing several hundred yards behind us. I look at her sails but see no red yet. It take me a minute but I spot the captain among some sailors celebrating. It looks as if they are about to haul up the foremast sail.

“Whoa now, hold on. Everyone stop hauling up the sails. We aren't out of danger yet.”

The Gunnery Master looks at me laughing, “Hold on cool off there Utah. We are well out of range of their Mortar. There's no way she can keep up now. We might as well...”

Captain Zijde interrupts him, “Hold on now Gunney, let's hear him out.”

I shoot Zijde a look of gratitude, “Alright guys, I just talked to Tao. He is saying that we aren't out of danger yet. The that ship it apparently captained by some Spanish woman...”

I feel the atmosphere get heavy around me. Everyone around me stops what they were doing mid-motion. Everyone is just looking at me waiting on my next words.

“Yea, uhm... A Spanish woman is captaining it. Tao said she still had red side sails that can be deployed. Oh, and she is the fastest ship in the Conglomerate.”

Apparently this Spaniard is pretty famous. There is a look of terrified recognition on everyone's face as I finish talking. Everyone looks from me to Zijde, waiting for instruction. The captain take a moment to ponder the situation and then starts barking quick concise orders.

“Gunney, get all the gun crews to the ready and bring up the hotshot oven. Someone go get Alfred. Tell him we are out of time, hurry up and pick a route to get us out of here. Bheki, oversee the men on the rigging. Also, keep an eye on the foremast, take up sail if it starts to strain. Utah, come with me.

We start walking to the rear of the ship to see what the situation with the other ship is. Zijde pulls out his new spyglass and while looking at me asks, “Utah, can you keep a secret of mine?”

“Sure Zijde, what is it.?”

He turns his head sharply to glare at me. He looks around to see if anyone else heard me, “Utah, since no one heard you, I'll let that one slide, but there is a rule on this ship. If anyone has a title they earned, use it. Maybe one day you'll learn why that's important. Now, as for the secret, how's your vision?”

“Sorry Captain, I have 20/20 vision sir.”

“Huh? What does that mean? And there is no need for sir, just my title.”

Shit, I keep forgetting I'm in 18th century during conversation, “Oh uhm, it means I can see really well.”

“You say some of the weirdest things Utah. Anyways, my vision is fine close up, but further away I can't see details. I can see the ship fine, just none of the goings on aboard.”

“Alright Cap'n you want me to take a look?”

He goes to hand me the spyglass but then hesitates, “Not a word of this to anyone, savvy? It's meaningless shit like this that sows doubt. Do you know what doubt becomes? A mutiny in the middle of combat, which tends to end with everyone on board dying... horribly.”

I nod my head and take the spyglass. As I look through it I can tell it's a really well made glass. I can easily pick out what's happening on the portions of the starboard deck I can see. There are men scrambling around the front of the ship carrying more munitions to the mortar. I see an smallish person person on the bow of the ship pointing a spyglass back at me. After a few seconds they break away and start giving out orders. Then my heart sinks, I see men bring red sail cloth out on the deck. I turn to look at Zijde as they start hoisting the red studding sails to the sides.

I see him staring at the other ship with a solemn look on his face, “I may not be able to see all that well, but I can see the red going up. There aren't many galleons that have a strong enough mast to take studding sails but damn if they can.”

I scratch the beginnings of a beard to hide the apprehension I feel, “Yea, from what Tao was talking about there's no way for us to out run her. What do you want to do Cap'n?”

“Well, once our navigator gets here, maybe we can find a place to cut her off in the shallows. Our draught should be much less than her's. We should be able to find some shallows to skirt over. That should allow us get far ahead enough to lose her.”

As if on cue, Alfred shows up with a piece of paper. He is a tall, lanky man with dirty blonde hair that contrasts his tan skin. He hurriedly walks up and unfolds the paper he is holding. He's shaking so bad that it's hard to focus on the hastily drawn map. Zijde puts a hand on his shoulder and sympathetically pulls the charcoal drawn map out of his hands.

“You haven't had your rum yet, have you Alfred? It's ok, Utah doesn't seem to be the type to judge.” He looks at me with a cocked eyebrow. I guess he's telling me to tread carefully. I shake my head in agreement.

“No Captain, I haven't had the chance to fetch any. Sorry if the map is hard to understand. I tried my best with these damned hands.” He holds them out for us to see. I'm surprised he can write anything shaking that bad. The alcohol withdrawals must be hitting him hard.

Zijde glances at me with imploring eyes, “Utah could you--”

“Already ahead of you Cap'n”-- I turn to look at Alfred-- “I know 'they' are rough mate, what do you need?”

Alfred looks up at me, almost bewildered. When he sees I'm earnest and in no way judging him, his eyes soften, “I-I could use a g-glass of rum... or maybe a pint?” I could see he was worried that I was going to judge him for asking so much.

I chuckle to lighten his mood, “Hell Alfred, with my face and all this stress I get myself a glass.” I look to Zijde for permission, and he gives a slight nod and a knowing smile. I sprint off below the deck to where they keep the rum.

I fill one of the pint glasses full of rum straight. I take a small sip and swish it around my mouth so it smells like a drank some as well. I decide it'd be best not to be swimming in opium and rum while we were running for our lives. On the way back up, I see Bheki waiting for me at the base of the stairs.

“Do you mind if I see what's in the cup Utah?”

“Sure, it's rum.” He gives me a look of disgust, “I'll need that poured out Utah. There is no drinking during combat. No exceptions, not even for the Captain's pet.”

What in the actual fuck. This pretentious prick just called me a fucking 'pet'? It takes every ounce of self control I have to keep from slamming my fist into his face. The stupid sneer on his face just makes me seethe that much more.

“Bheki, go choke on a fat cock.”

The looks on his face was priceless, a mixture of bewilderment and anger. I guess that one isn't an insult used very much in this day and time. He was so shocked, I was able to just walk right past him, towards Alfred and the captain.

When I was almost there, I hear him running up behind me. He starts to say something, but stops himself as he sees who I'm handing the rum off to. I see Zijde shoot a look of warning behind me. I wanted to turn around and smile at him, but I decided that would be pretty fucking childish. Still would've been satisfying though.

Alfred graciously accepts the cup, downing it greedily. As he finishes, he's sucking down air like he'd been holding his breath, “Thank you Utah.” He stops to catch his breath. “Alright, in a moment I'll b-be able to think clearly, but I'll do my best 'till then, due to the time constraints.”

He had been trying to show Zijde the map while I was gone, but confusion on the captain's face told me it didn't go over well. His hand already much more stable, he points about halfway along a curved series of tiny islands north of Cuba, “Ok, this is the Ragged Island Range. Here we are, you can tell by the funny shaped island just ahead of us.” He points off the starboard bow of the ship at an island, which looks pretty normal look to me. I give Zijde a worried look, but he gives me a reassuring smile in return.

He starts getting excited, and starts speaking almost eccentrically, “In about two hours, we will be here.” He points at a another set of much larger Islands about perpendicular to The Little Ragged Islands. “I was looking for shallows in this island range, which normally wouldn't be a problem, but our newly found riches have us much deeper in the water than normally.” His voice is no longer quivering, but he's starting to talk faster and faster.

Zijde interjects, “Alfred, I'm glad you are feeling up to the task but please slow down man.”

Alfred gives us a quick smile, “Sorry gents. As I was saying”-- He goes back to speaking just as fast if not faster -- “I had almost given up finding something deep enough for us but too shallow for them. I remembered this, he points to a small break between some islands between Exuma and Long Island. “We'll pass through here. I remember getting a frigate through there one day while I was with the Royal Navy.” Alfred steps back, looking proud of himself. Almost as if to say, 'And you thought I was drunk?'

Zijde applauds him, “Alfred my friend, you never let me down. Alright, you can go back to looking for anything else in case this isn't enough. I'll get us to this strait and call you back to help navigate it. Once Alfred gets out of earshot, Zijde turns to me.

“Thank you Utah, for getting the rum and not making a fuss. I know the rule about rum during combat, but I can't bring myself to deprive the poor man. He has much to forget.”

Even though I want to know, I bite my lip about it. I just wave it away with my hand. The captain leans in closer to make sure no one could hear.

“What was the spiff with Bheki?”

“Eh Cap'n it doesn't matter.”

He looks at me seriously, “Oh but it does friend. A man looking to start conflict during a conflict is a grave threat indeed. I need to know, like a sail needs wind.”

I look at him hesitating, and he just presses me with a slight nod, “Well Captain, he was trying to stop me with the rum. I guess he was looking to get me in trouble with the crew. I understand all that, but Cap'n, if he calls me a fucking pet again I'll lose it.”

“Whose pet? Mine?” I nod slightly. “Well, I don't know if the crew could have blamed you if you had lost it. I'm glad you didn't though. It'd make everything going on around us much more difficult. How did you make it past him?”

“Oh, I just told him to choke on a dick. He was so surprised, I just walked past him.”

Zijde bursts into laughter, “Oh choke on a dick huh? I'll have to use that one day.”

After about an hour, we had made it past The Little Island Range. Alfred's strait was no more than thirty minutes ahead of us. For almost an hour, we had been out of the mortar's range, but the crew aboard the 'Meurte Delorosa' were firing the mortar faster than ever. They had missed so far, but it was a fool's hope that would last with how close the shots were landing now.

The strait comes into view, and Alfred is sent for. Zijde takes the position next to the helmsman at the back, I am in the middle of the ship, and Alfred is on the bow, to give out more precise directions. Around this time, the galleon has figured out what we are trying to do and takes a route outside of the island. This however, does not slow the firing of the mortar. At this point there is a shell being fired every forty-five seconds.

As we are lining up with the strait, we get the chance to see just how big the shells being fired at us are. One hits on land and throws dirt at least a hundred feet in every direction, leaving behind a terrifying crater. Between all this noise and the tension of the situation, one of Alfred commands, 'Five degrees port', is missed. By the time the helmsman hears it and corrects, we feel the boat sliding over sand. Everyone's eye snaps to the jury rigging foremast, waiting to see if it will hold up.

The boat is creaking and groaning as we slide over more and more sand. The friction is slowing the boat a dangerous amount. We all hear a sound that makes our hearts sink. Wood snapping. We turn to see the prop buckling underneath the force of it all, and then the mast starts to lean, ten, twenty, thirty degrees. The high pitch whine of metal straining replaces the snapping of wood. A loud ping rings through the air, the metal brace flies off the mast and lodges in a crewmate's chest. Just as the mast is about to snap, the boat clears the sand and the crew scrambles to take up the sail before something else happens.

I run over to the poor man hit by the two foot long piece of metal. Ah fuck, I was wrong. The 'man' couldn't be more than fifteen, The other men are screaming to get him to Doc Zale but it's hopeless. There is only about six inches of the brace sticking out of the poor boy, and it hit him two inches to the left of his sternum. At best it severed the beginnings of his carotid artery, and at worst, it severed his aortic arch. Even if this happened in the parking lot of a modern day hospital, there is little chance of saving him. I just hold the boy's hand and talk to him. He's starting to choke on his blood as he asks how bad it is. I just tell him it's gonna be fine, it's not even that bad. He closes his eyes and thanks me. The men go to pick him up, and I just hold out a hand to stop them. They start to protest, but as the blood starts to spread underneath him, they come to the same realization. A minute later, his pulse is still pretty strong for that much damage, and as his shock wears off, he moans, “Sissy, help me. It hurts Sissy.” It hits me, the metal is plugging whatever hole it made.

So, before he's in agony I whisper in his ear, “Here, this is going to hurt for just a second, but then the pain will be gone.” He weakly nods his head as I wrap my fingers around the metal. About this time, Doc Zale comes up the stair and see's what I'm about to do. He tries to stop me, but in a clean jerk, I free the metal from his body. He only whimpers slightly and loses consciousness immediately.

Zale runs up shouting, “Utah, what are you doing? You just...” He sees the wound placement and the blood pool doubling in size in just a moment. “Oh, I see now. He was starting to feel it, wasn't he?”

Without looking up, I nod my head in affirmation.

“You did the right thing son, it could have taken a couple minutes for him to die. There would have been a lot of suffering. This way he dies in his sleep.”

I just nod my head again.