CHAPTER 8

The Gunnery Master screams, “That was a mortar shell, and we are well in it's range. Cap'n, look it's not very accurate, but if it hits our deck it'll be devastating. It's liable to take out everyone topside and could destroy the masts. I'd say they have a one in twenty shot of hitting us with how that shell landed. I bet they were judging if they could hit us, so that's prolly about their max range.”

Zijde chews his lip for a moment, looking at the deck. Then, his entire demeanor changes.

“Alright men, we are now in combat. As you know, I now have complete control of the ship. Gunny, get the cannon crews ready. Alfred, get to your charts and find us some shallows in case we can't outrun her. Bheki, we are going to need all the sails up. Now before you protest, I know the fore mast is damaged. Take Utah, and find the spare mast to prop it up. Then, tie it down to four opposing places on the ship. The higher up the mast the better.” He turns to the rest of the ship and in his loudest voice without it breaking, “Alright men, we are now in combat. Get everyone up and ready, we aren't sure how this is going to go for us.”

The smooth-as-silk tone is gone from his voice. He is now 'the' commanding presence on the ship. The crew follows every command without hesitation, and he gives orders with complete and utter confidence. I find myself admiring this man even more. He reminds me of a squad leader I use to have. If Zijde is even half as competent as he was... I'll follow him even if we’re attacking London harbor.

As Bheki and I were heading down the stairs into the hold another mortar was fired. This time it sounded as if it missed by several hundred yards this time. Under the deck the crew was scrambling to get to their combat stations in time. There were men carrying extra cannon balls up the to the deck in case we have to stand our ground. As Bheki is showing me the way to the stock replacement materials I try to apologize to him.

“Hey Bheki, I just wanted to say I think we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I really don't like all this animosity between us. I really just want to get along with people on the ship and make some money. Maybe one day I'd like to move up, but I'm new to sailing. I have way too much to learn before I set my sights any higher than a crew member.”

Bheki stops and looks back at me, studying me intently. I try to look as sincere as I actually am being. I do want to captain a ship one day. Hell, I actually want to do a shit-load more than just be a captain. But, I wanna know I'm ready before I take that on.

“I don't know what you are playing at, but you will not be able to disarm me with words, only to take advantage of me later. Now, help me with this pole. Without it we will probably lose the mast.”

I guess it's hopeless. He just doesn't wanna trust me. Regardless, I help him get the short replacement mast up on his shoulder and then pick my end up. All the straining has burst something in my nose again and blood is flowing down my shirt. As we get back on deck another mortar goes off. It lands about the same distance away as the first off the port side of the ship.

“I guess we are getting lucky, they are still a pretty good ways from getting us dialed in. What do you think Bheki?”

“I think they are extremely close to hitting us with a mortar. Anything within a hundred yards is a good shot. Also, your nose is bleeding again.”

I guess I'm use to modern day mortars, missing by a hundred yards is pretty bad by the third shot. As we near the mast I see the damage they were talking about. There is a indention from a cannonball several inches deep and the wood is fractured above and below it. They have it braced with planks lashed on either side of the damage and a large iron mending brace across the front. I look up and notice the mast is only at about quarter sail.

“What happened here? The iron is rusted so it must be fairly old.”

Bheki drops his end of the pole and puts his hand on the damage, “Yes, this happened last month during a prize. We had the ship stopped and were searching her hold. The crew started a fight to distract us from one of the sailors trying to kill the captain with a swivel. Fortunately, they were a bad shot. It missed everyone, but it weakened the mast. We still had her at full sail in case we needed to run, and by the time we took up the sail the force had started fracturing the mast. You see we fixed her the best we could.”

“Wow this ship must be pretty fast then? We are pulling four-and-half knots with just a gaff sail.”

Bheki looks at me cautiously, “Yes, this ship is very fast. Why do you think she is call the Going Swiftly, but I want to know how you knew our speed. That's not something we call out.”

Shit... I can't tell him the truth. Oh yea Bheki, this is all a video game and I just pull it up on my HUD, “What? I was just estimating. Was I close?”

“Yes, too close.”

From behind us we hear the Captain call out, “Bheki, Utah! What are you doing? Hurry up and cut that to size and prop it against the mast. They are already much too close.”

Bheki and I lift the pole to see how much we need to trim off. Looks like about a foot-and-a-half needs to come off.

Bheki hands me an axe, “Here, I'll get the nails, rope, and another iron mender.”

I take the axe and see how sharp it is and it's mediocre. I start hacking away, and I thank my dad for all those long days cutting down trees and splitting wood. By the time Bheki gets back I'd shortened it and even cut a notch for the mast to sit in. Bheki looks at it and nods in approval.

About the time we had gotten the pole fixed to the mast the mortar had fired three more times. The first one landed within fifty yards of the starboard side of the ship, throwing spray all over us. The other two landed a much more comfortable hundred yard distance from us. There was a several shot lull in the mortar fire while we were tying the thick hemp tension lines to the mast, but by the time we were done they were firing as fast as ever.

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Zijde runs up to inspect our work, tugging on the tension lines and kicking the base of our prop. The long, crude iron nails seem to be holding her in place against the deck. Zijde gives the order to slowly let the mast down. We all hold our breath as the canvas starts to fill, putting strain on the jury rigged mast. At about half sail the repair starts to whine under the stress. Zijde signals to stop and runs over to check the speed himself at the edge of the ship.

We all count the knots at it slips through his hand. At half full, the fore sail only gave us a knot and a half. Six knot would eventually get us out of range of their gun, but it could take hours. The galleon can only miss for so long. Once we are hit, we get captured. And once we are captured, we lose our ludicrously valuable haul... If we are lucky. So, everything is riding on this hasty repair.

Zijde motions for them to slowly let down more sail. The mast creaks as the sail is let down, but doesn't move until it's at full sail. Everyone's heart drops at the sight of the pole shifting about an inch. Thankfully and inch is all it gives. There is a notable speed increase now, three or four knots at least. Zijde checks the speed again and confirms it, nine knots. It's pretty incredible how fast this little brigatine is even when it’s loaded down heavier than it should ever be.

During all this, the mortar fire was largely ignored, but a shell landing less than 20 feet directly behind us quickly reminds us. The following explosive vibrations is felt by our bare feet. Most of us are also soaked by the torrent of water the explosion send up.

The gunnery master is jumping around on the deck alternating between thanking God and swearing at the ship firing at us, “Oh holy fucking Christ thank you! Boys, those fuckers would have just blew our ass out of the water if not for the quick fix. Bheki, Utah, I could fucking kiss you, but I hope you'll settle for a bottle a' rum each when we get to port. God damn those mother fuckers almost got us.”

Everyone burst into nervous laughter. We all know that we are still in range, and the next shot could very well hit us square. As we are all looking at each other for comfort and direction, we hear a pistol go off. We snap our heads to see Zijde with his beautiful pistol pointed into the air and smoke dissipating above him.

“Alright gentlemen, I know that was a close call, but we are still alive and the sail is at our backs isn't it? We still need to outrun these Spanish Putas. Don't forget, if we can do that, we'll be rich as royals.”

The crew bellows in agreement. The crew starts to fervently complete any order Zijde gives. He really is something else. Bombs going off around him, a mast that could break off at any moment, and if everything doesn't go right we'll probably die. Despite it all, he keeps a cool head. His orders are barked in a succinct manner. His voice doesn't waiver, and he does it all with a cool and collected smile.

As I watch everyone running around, I see why they hadn't already propped up the mast. The pole stands a good fifteen feet from the base of the mast. Not only does this make the deck harder to navigate, it also blocks the path of the front three cannons on each side. I sincerely hope we don't have to fight. Being down six guns while the enemy probably has dozen more than us... I don't want to consider it.

I hear Zijde finish giving out the most pressing orders and give off command to Bheki. He looks around and catches my eye. As he is making his way over I get a pounding headache. I rub my forehead trying to get relief but to no avail. I look up to him smiling at me, but I see the concern in his eyes.

“Well Utah, how is your time aboard the Going Swiftly treating you? As for me, I love it. We spend months toiling away aboard a ship with hardly a thing to show for it. But, as soon come upon a prize worth fighting for, we have a stranger all but take it by himself. Then, said stranger joins our crew, making us a force to be reckoned with once we board a ship. All of this occurs, only to be attacked by a mysterious Spanish warship on the way to transfer our newly acquired goods. Oh the pirate's life is for me! Don't you agree my friend?”

Eh, I agree that this is fun. Granted, if I die, I come back good as new. Only bad thing is I lose 5 percent of my stats… the first time anyways. After the first death you come back with no one but other players knowing who you are.

I'd be a good bit less excited if I were Zijde. If he gets blown apart he doesn’t come back. Well, I guess I looked at being in the military the same way. Life or death is intoxicatingly simple. While you're fighting, your life is left up to who is the better fighter and who wants it the more. Knowing there is no way out, you have to create a way for you to live. I guess I know where he’s coming from.

I smile at him, which causes my nose to start bleeding again, “Oh the struggle is addicting ain't it Cap'n? Although, I do hope to spend my share of the treasure. It's more fun when you have more to gain than lose.”

Zijde starts laughing and nods his head, “I have to agree, this would be much more fun if I wasn't worried about losing thousands to some damned Spaniards. Anyways, we have it covered up her Utah. Go down and get checked out by the doctor. You look like you're in pain, and no offense, you aren't the most pleasant thing to look at right now. I think you're scaring the crew.” He gives me a wink and gestures for me to go below deck.

I hear the crew start up a shanty as I head below deck:

Farewell and adieu unto you Spanish ladies

Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain

For it's we've received orders for to sail for old England

But we hope very soon we shall see you again

I chuckle to myself as I walk through the door to Doc Zale's room. I taste more than smell the alcohol in the air and struggle to see as my eyes are still getting used to candle light. Toa is sitting up now, with Doc taking off his bandage to his chest. I came in just in time to see the wound. His pectoral is bruised every color from black to yellow. It is clearly swollen, and there is some fluid draining from the bottom of the external stitching. Considering no one knows the existence of bacteria, his wound looks extremely clean.

Toa looks up to see me walk through the door and smiles at me, “Oh wow, you look worse than I feel. The doctor tells me you told him a way for me to heal faster. I thank you, but I apologize, I don't know anything that could help your face.”

I smile back at him, showing off my fresh coat of blood on my teeth. I look down and my shirt is covered in blood again, and I am sure I look plenty rough. I see Toa is trying to be friendly, but his tone tells me he's bitter about the injury. With the sterilized catgut sutures, his pectoral muscle should heal fine. Although it will take a few months though, but he probably still thinks he will never swing a sword again.

“Yea, you got my nose pretty good. I've been scaring people all day with it. So, ugh, I don't mean to make you feel like you owe me or anything, but I don't want you to worry about what you are going to do when you get to port. I'm going to lend you whatever you need from my share, no interest. I just don't want you to have to do without. That's all.”

Tao stiffens, glares at me, and starts to tell me where I can put my money. Doc Zale cuts him off, “Tao, he isn't taking pity. Hell, I doubt he feels bad about it. I think he just doesn't wanna see anyone he's friendly with go hungry.”

I nod my head in agreement. Tao looks away, appearing to mull it over. He finally looks back at me and shrugs, “I guess, I will accept your loan. Just know, I do not want you to insult me by trying to give me anything for free.”

I nod my head in agreement. All of a sudden, I realize I haven't heard the mortar.

“Have you guys heard any explosions?”

They both shake their heads no, Doc Zale walks over to the table with his tinctures, “No we haven't heard anything as of yet. Well, maybe some thudding, but we figured it was footsteps. Why? Here is another tincture and a ball of opium sap, I can tell you're in pain. It's all over your face, literally.” His booming laugh reverberates in the tiny room. He gives me the same dosage as earlier and give me a little, round, sticky ball.

I swallow both with some grog he pours me. Once it goes down, I start telling them about the situation, “As were passing an island a Spanish galleon comes around the other side. Now they are chasing us firing a mortar at us. We jury rigged the fore mast. So we should be good.”

Even by the dim candlelight, I see the color visibly drain from Tao's face, “Utah, I know that ship. Did it have its red sails up on the sides?”

I screw up my face in a questioning manner. Which I quickly regret as my face starts burning, “No, just regular white sails.”

Tao now looks shaken to his core, like he had just been stabbed in the gut, “Utah, that is the fastest warship of the Conglomerate. There is no way we can outrun her, and her captain is the most ruthless of the Conglomerate's navy. Not only will she take our valuables, she'll take our food and water. Then, she'll gather us all to the deck and make us fell our masts like trees. Finally, she'll give every man a dull knife and make us fight. If we refuse, she'll set the ship ablaze with us on it. If we fight, she and her crew will watch until there are only five left. She’ll take those five, brand them, and fight them in the cage fights. Utah, I’ve seen some of those men. They were husks by the time they got off that ship.”

I look at Tao, then at the doc, “Well fuck me guys.”