My heart leapt up into my chest as the grenade’s fuse burned away. Thinking quickly, I grabbed the iron grenade and ran up the staircase onto the main deck. Blinded by the sudden sunlight, I flung the bomb in the general direction of the starboard bow.
The explosion sent salty seawater spraying into my face. I sighed in relief, however short lived that was. Before my eyes could even adjust to the sunlight, I felt four iron flintlock barrels poke into my back. I slowly turned around to come face to face with four Maroons dressed in what appeared to be a mixture of rags and tattered uniforms of various nations.
Aidar poked his head out of the hatch and was immediately dragged out by a Maroon with a pistol. Dropping his mace, he first spat a flurry of curses at the Maroon in Turkish, and then directed some to me.
I had the sense to drop my shashka and my newfound flintlock pistol before the Maroons decided to shoot me, but I was searched regardless.
“Venha filho da puta, o capitão verá você agora!”
The language the Maroon spoke was nothing but a concoction of nonsense sounds to me, but his intentions were clear. We were to follow them or be shot. The flintlock needed no translator.
At gunpoint, with our hands raised, we were led off the Peregrine and into a waiting jolly boat below. Looking around, I saw that the ship’s main mast had been hewn in two. The Peregrine’s sails were all entangled and the mast itself leaned over like a fallen tree; no doubt cut in two by some form of chain shot. The hull had been pierced with a multitude of arrows so that it looked like a floating wooden pin cushion.
The archers, with their tall longbows, had been firing at us from little boats with single masts, which, from my studies with Mister Ferguson, I identified as “pirogues.” They reminded me very much of my old chaika, except that they had wooden outrigger beams projecting from their sides that served to balance the small crafts on the water. There must have been at least two dozen of the small craft surrounding the Peregrine, each manned with three or four warriors, who were armed with all sorts of weapons from longbows and machetes to flintlocks and scatterguns.
The eyes of hundreds of Maroons were trained on us as our captors rowed us towards a larger craft anchored amongst their flotilla. She was a galleon of three masts and carried no fewer than eight guns by my count, significantly outclassed by the Peregrine in both armament and size, for the British vessel was at least twice the length of the galleon. This was why she sailed with this fleet of smaller craft for protection.
Judging by the opened gun ports on her side, she was the vessel that had fired whatever chain shot that had crippled the Peregrine. At first glance, it seemed to be of generally poor construction. Her hull was built of planks of many colors and types of wood, but upon closer inspection they appeared to be parts of other vessels, cannibalized to repair the ship.
When Aidar and I boarded the vessel, we were met with more derisive stares from the crew, whom, I shall admit, were an odd sight to see. Maroons in rags and soiled uniforms took the place of regular sailors. They looked far more motivated than their European counterparts as they swabbed the deck, manned the capstan, hauled the lines, and sang their work songs. Despite not being able to understand their strange language, I could feel their genuine joy through the rhythm of their music.
Indeed, they had every right to be happy – they had won a great victory over us. Then I came upon the realization that I had still seen no sign of any of my companions. I had seen the blood down in the gun decks, but I had not seen any corpses or prisoners, yet. With pistols still jammed into our backs, I imagined that my questions would soon be answered.
“I suppose we should be saying our final goodbyes,” whispered Aidar. “I would say it was nice to know you, but you did manage to get us captured.”
“If we were to die, we would have been dead already. I suspect they have other plans for us.”
Our captors led us to the aft of the vessel and up the quarterdeck steps to the captain’s chamber. We were shoved inside and forced down on our knees with our hands on the floor, like slaves were made to do. I began to see the intentional irony of their actions.
Ahead of us sat the captain, sitting behind a desk in an ornately-carved mahogany chair, reminiscent of a throne. I could make out no features, for the light was scarce and a shadow lingered over the captain’s face. The figure reached out for a featureless mask with only two eye holes and nothing resembling a nose or lips. Putting it on, the leader of the Maroons finally stepped out of the shadows and into full view.
The captain wore a white cocked hat under which flowed ropelike strands of hair ornamented with shiny gold ringlets. A Fine white coat and hat with blue facings made nearly certain that I had seen that same style somewhere before. It was very reminiscent of Captain Glass’s uniform, almost down to the smallest detail.
“Well ain’t dis a fine butt upon. Wha gine on, Mista Rooshian?”
My jaw dropped. “Rebecca Glass? Is that you?”
“Rebecca Glass I am no more, she burn down wit de Chaesar. In she place is I – Burned Beck – de Queen of Maroons, and dis here be me ship, de Vengeance.”
My eyes were fixed on the dark eye holes of her wooden mask. It felt like I was looking into the eyes of a specter, and that very well might have been what she was. I reached up and embraced her, and in doing so felt the beating of her heart and smelled the seawater in her hair.
“I miss you too,” she said softly. I knew that beneath that mask, tears were welling up in her eyes.
“You know each other?” Aidar said in English, his hands still on the ground.
“Yes, she’s an old friend,” I said. “It seems like we met a lifetime ago.” I looked her up and down, and judged that she was in a fine physical state. “I thought you had burned alive.”
“I did,” she said in a low growl. “When me heart o’ hearts John Glass got stab, I rise to he defense, den de redcoats dem strike me down. Dem set raging fire to de Chaesar and bind me to she mast, hope I burn down in the flames. But me hate for Lord Garlington keep me alive… hate and searing seawater. Dem Maroons, dem find me an give me life, now I gine take life from de devil Garlington, an I ain gine miss me vengeance.”
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Unfortunately, even with my much-improved English, I still couldn’t understand much of what she was saying. The one thing I was certain of was that I was happy that she was alive.
“I am glad you’re with us again! I see you’re doing quite well for yourself, liberating captives. Is that where you found this crew?”
She chuckled, “Wandrin’ souls from all across dese conquered lands. Dem hear de tales of Burned Beck and how she be like de Lady Moses of de seas, and dem come to she like driftwood.”
“Speaking of liberators, where is my crew?”
Rebecca was silent for a moment, as if she was taken aback.
“Yuh crew? Rooshian, you sail wit de foeman?”
I scoffed, but immediately realized my mistake.
“Of course not, Lady Rebecca, press-ganged as I was, I had no choice in the matter.”
Rebecca stared at me through the pitch-black eye holes of her mask, no doubt gauging the truth in my words.
“I have no quarrel wit yuh crew, Mista Rooshian. Only wit de captain. Yuh can find yuh friends down dere in de gundeck.”
“I am much obliged to you, Your Nobility.”
“Wait, before yuh go off. I notice yuh be able to speak good now. Maybe command yuh own crew, if yuh were set to the task. Aye… I can see it clear,” she said with a nod.
If I had understood that correctly, “Burned Beck” was finally offering me my own command! After six months of a bleak life in the brig, and all the suffering I endured beforehand, I was finally being committed to my true purpose! I contained my excitement with a broad smile.
“I eagerly await whatever you propose, Your Nobility.”
“I gine present me proposition to yuh in front of de crew when de time be right. For now, know dat yuh crew be free, wit my blessing.”
Such a promise was good enough for me. I gave my long-lost friend another hug and bid her farewell, promising to return soon. As a gesture of good faith, she even allowed us to have our weapons back, although she bade the two Maroons that brought us aboard to accompany us. Confident that all was going well, I made my way to the ship’s brig with Aidar in tow. However, I could not help but notice that a cloud of skepticism lingered over his head.
“You don’t trust the captain?” I said to him in Russian.
“She wears a damn mask, Rodion Ivanovich. The only people who wear masks are thieves and actors. Has she performed in any plays of late? No? That tells me quite a lot.”
“I suspect she wears the mask to hide her burns. I was told she was set alight as punishment for trying to free slaves. I was with her on that voyage.”
“And she’s a rebel too? Dangerous combination. Never mind the fact that she’s a woman. You know how they can be, always changing their minds – first we are safe, then minutes later she’ll want our heads. Why don’t we escape now?”
I scoffed, “You speak of women as if you are married, Aidar.”
“I am. My woman is from Allah, and I would rather much hear her nagging again than spend another second aboard this ship with the masked devil.”
“Then it’d be best if you did as she says. Angering her will only guarantee our demise. Besides, I am not leaving without my friends – if you chose to escape now, you would be escaping alone.”
Defeated, Aidar muttered something incoherent in Turkish as we descended down into the brig. In the darkness, I heard the curious sound of joyful chattering. It was vaguely familiar.
In the corner, I noticed a Maroon leaning on his musket in a casual manner, engaged in lively conversation with a gentleman behind bars. They were speaking in French.
“Andrei?”
The cook’s mate lit up and grasped the bars of his cell.
“Monsieur Kazansky! I thought I would never see you again! Eirene thought that you might be dead!”
“Where is she?”
“Oh, I was having the most engaging conversation with my new friend Wilguens here regarding the…”
“Where. Is she.”
“Oh, I apologize monsieur, in the rearmost part of the brig.”
“Excellent. By order of Captain Burned Beck, you are all free to go. Our ‘escort’ will verify my orders. But as for now, I must see her.”
Aidar and I passed his cage as the sailor on watch made for the keys. Andrei called out from behind me that he “missed me too” but I ignored the comment. I had to see how Eirene faired – after all, she had led the marines in battle when the Maroons took the ship.
There, at the end of the brig, huddled up behind bars with the rest of the officers, was Eirene. Upon first seeing her sitting there, knees drawn to her chest with her head cast downwards, I thought her to be moping, but I noticed that Doctor Le Duff, who was sitting beside her, was nodding, as if he was listening to some unheard conversation.
As I came closer, she raised her gaze to meet mine, with a bewildered expression on her face.
“What are you doing up and about? Why did they not imprison you with the rest of us? I’ve been conjuring an escape plan for the last half hour and all of it was for nothing! Hurry up and get us out of here!”
“So that’s what you were doing sitting like a brooding child?”
“If you must know, I was drawing an escape plan with my belt buckle!” Eirene stood up and revealed sure enough, a very rough outline of the ship’s lower deck etched in the wood of the deck boards that she had been sitting on. “Now get us out of here!”
“There’s no need for violence,” I mumbled. “The captain is apparently letting you out of her own volition.”
“Her?” chorused the officers.
“Yes, the captain is a woman. Fiery of temper, but apparently also gentle of heart. What a strange dichotomy.”
Eirene chuckled while the Maroon jailer unlocked the officer’s cell.
“Well,” said Le Duff, “you must express our never-ending gratitude to our fine host then, Mister Kazansky. What did she want in return?”
I shrugged, “She had some sort of proposition in mind. She did not mention what, though. Where is Captain Barrett?”
“I thought you knew,” said Le Duff with a grim tone. “He was separated from us when we first boarded.”
“Odd,” I said. “I did not see him in the captain’s cabin either.”
“You know,” said Aidar, “She did not seem too fond of our captain. If this were my ship, and I encountered one such hated enemy, I would impose very special treatment upon him… say, did you happen to glance upon the bowsprit of this vessel?”
The relevance of his question was not immediate, but it did not take me long to realize what he was saying. I made my way out of the brig and up to the bowsprit with such haste that only Aidar followed me, and what I saw proved his intuition to be correct.
Tied onto the bowsprit like a roasting pig was Captain Barrett. It seemed like he had given up his spirit as he dangled over the ocean with his eyes closed. Even though I did not like the man, it rent my heart to see such a proud man brought so low.
“Mista Rooshian,” called out Rebecca from behind me, “I believe we have business to discuss.”
It was in my best interest to remain calm in the face of such a sight. Rebecca was indeed my friend, but I did not want to be seen as a potential enemy by expressing sympathy with a man she hated. I doffed my hat to her and gave her a low bow.
“You have my ear, Lady Rebecca.”
“Rise up an stand tall. No man bow to no man on Burned Beck’s ship. And it be best if yuh call me dat from now on. Dat or captain.”
“Of course, captain.”
“Now den – dis be de matter we have at hand. Yuh old captain, how loyal be yuh to he?”
“Hardly at all,” I scoffed, being wholly truthful.
Burned Beck nodded and continued, “And he officers? What about dem?”
“Some complaints, captain, but nothing mutinous.”
“Ah,” she said, wagging a gloved finger in the air. “Some complaints be good, dis we can work wit. Would dem follow yuh into battle?”
Aidar could not hold in his laughter, but quickly silenced himself when we both gave him deadly looks.
“Your proof is in this man, captain,” I said, gesturing to Aidar. “We took his ship in action and defeated him soundly. By all reason he should be my enemy, but yet he stands before you as my ally.”
“I see,” said Burned Beck with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. “I tell you what, Rooshian, take what crew yuh can, dem who don’t join your lot will share de same fate as Barret. I want a loyal co-captain on dat ship,” she said, pointing to the Peregrine.