Taylor reached for one of the redcoats’ sword, expecting to surprise Israel, and cut his damnable hand from her shoulder. She forgot that a soldier, is a soldier, is a soldier.
The knee of the soldier was landing in her cheek, followed immediately by the ground, before she even realised the mistake that she’d made. As her world rocked with a stone to the head, she heard Israel crying out aggressively.
By the time she staggered back to her knees, she might as well have been in a war.
Sword clashed on sword, pistols fired off deafeningly, and cloaks flurried with determined movements. Taylor didn’t make the same mistake twice, staggering by the fighting men and into the keep, her head still ringing.
As she began to head up the stairs, she met a redcoat running down them. He did not assume she was with them, and the butt of his rifle slammed her into the wall. As he tried to bring the bayonet down to bear on her, the man suddenly went very still.
Taylor blinked as she saw the small dart sticking out of his shoulder, before she easily pushed him back, and he toppled down the stairs. She glanced upwards to see Laure sitting casually on the landing, swinging her legs.
The other woman shook her head, “Comprenez-vous à quel point il est difficile de vous maintenir en vie?1”
“I’m pretty sure you just insulted me.” Taylor said with irritation, and ran up the final few steps, “But should we not be leaving?”
Laure stood up lazily and stretched, before motioning her head towards the landing. Taylor nodded, running up to the edge and looking over. “That was my plan. Find somewhere soft to land on the other side…”
She trailed off as she saw the half dozen soldiers on the landing. All of them slumped over in various poses, sporting tiny needles. Taylor shivered, “So… You could take this whole place, by yourself, couldn’t you?”
“Je suis la fille de Flint.2” Laure said flatly.
Taylor heard that one name, and asked no further questions. Instead she located a tree that had been allowed to grow about halfway up the wall, and with Laure’s help was soon falling into it.
Running away was not much of a plan, but it was the only one that Taylor could think of in the current mess. Both the English and the pirates wanted her head, and the treasure that was well spent on a village that they both would rather be executed.
If only there were some French flags on the horizon.
The two landed safely on the other side of the wall, their escape from the chaos inside the keep almost complete. They quickly made their way through the wooded area, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the fighting.
As they ran, Taylor’s mind raced with thoughts of what had just transpired. Escaping was something, but there was no safety to be had with it. She needed to check for other survivors of the village, expel the English, and convince the pirates never to come back to the island.
Unlike her, Laure seemed entirely unfazed. The violence and danger had done nothing to make her any less the flirty and smiling woman of the night before. Taylor couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she had married.
She knew tales of Flint, and that he scared everyone half to death, but exactly who was his daughter? Taylor had not a single clue.
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“Pourquoi si sérieux?3”
Taylor blew at her fringe, “I know you can speak English. You know I can’t speak French. Are you truly expecting me to simply pick it up, because you continue to speak it?”
“Oui.4”
She rolled her eyes, “That is… Infuriatingly adorable.”
Laure sniggered at that, and then suddenly went silent. She grabbed Taylor’s wrist, and pulled her down and into the greenery. The two lay there, motionless, and just as Taylor was beginning to wonder why they had bothered to hide, six men came tramping along.
The pirates weren’t attempting to hide at all. They were stomping, scuffing, kicking their feet through the grass and dirt. Complaining under their breath to each other, and moaning openly that they did not yet have the promised gold.
Which was precisely when Taylor finally realised a way out of this whole mess. It would be difficult… But it was exactly what they needed to escape.
> We hove our ship to with the wind from sou’west, boys,
> We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take,
> ’Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom,
> So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.
Of course, working out a solution to the whole thing didn’t help her a darn that there were pirates thrusting swords about in the undergrowth where she was hiding.
She and Laure hadn’t been hiding their footsteps. It was obvious that this was where they were, and it was only a matter of time before the pirates put in an ounce of effort and discovered them.
> We will rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
> We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt sea.
> Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
> From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
“Adieu et adieu à vous, lâches des mers espagnoles!5” Laure snarled, starting up and out of the brush with a pistol in either hand, firing off as Taylor yet again wondered exactly who it was that she had married.
She darted up in the wake of her bride, but there was no opportunity for her to test her feeble warrior skills. Laure was done and dusted with them before Taylor even had a sword properly drawn.
Laure smirked over at her proudly.
Taylor crouched by one of the bodies, wincing at being so close to death, and began stripping his outfit. “Any chance you could pretend to be English, to get us on board the Coronet without us dying?”
“… Tu peux répéter s’il te plait?6”
She shrugged, “If we can get on board… We can get at the gunpowder. Which we stowed forward. I don’t need a ship anymore. The English aren’t going to stay, if they think the curse is real. Sailors… Are a superstitious bunch.”
“Oui7. I can speak like English.” Laure said with the thickest accent.
Taylor frowned, “Mmm… Perhaps leave it to me.”
Laure ticked in irritation, but began stripping one of the other pirates. She had far fewer qualms about doing so. Taylor had to wonder… If Laure had been in the village… How had she seen so much death that it was meaningless to her?
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On the surface the plan was simple enough, but it got complicated quickly. It wasn’t enough to simply destroy the Coronet. It had to appear to be the work of the dead Flint.
Sneaking aboard was easy. Far too easy.
The pirates didn’t even have a lookout. They were too busy playing cards and drinking, below deck. They never even saw the two who arrived by row boat, until they were already approaching the front stowage.
“Oi. Where you be goin’?” The only guard asked with annoyance at their approach.
Taylor dropped her voice as low as it could go, “Israel done in Vernon. ‘n he says we need gunpowder. Gonna blow those fookin’ English sky high.”
“Vernon done? Sheet.” The guard said and stepped aside, “Darn fool gonna get us all killed.”
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1. Do you comprehend how difficult it is to keep you alive?↩︎
2. I am the daughter of Flint.↩︎
3. Why so serious?↩︎
4. Yes.↩︎
5. Farewell and farewell to you, cowards of the Spanish seas!↩︎
6. Say what?↩︎
7. Yes↩︎