Chapter 177: Battle for a Way Out

⚔ [BATTLE OVERVIEW]

ALLIED — CALLOWAY’S FLEET

Nuestra Señora Del Rosario — Engaged, Maneuvering

ENEMY — GUARDA COSTA SQUADRON

Santa Bárbara — Engaged, Boarding Party

La Golondrina — Engaged, Boarding Party

San Cristóbal — Combat Ready, Maneuvering

James read it once and decided that was plenty. There were numbers a man was better off not studying twice.

The sloops came on a fathom at a time, slow and grinding, never surrendering an inch they had won. The Rosario pushed every scrap of canvas she could manage, her long hull steady on the wind.

The smaller ships came on behind her regardless, quicker and handier where the Rosario was broad and stubborn.

The hours went by that way, with the distance shrinking little by little and nobody foolish enough to say how much smaller it had become.

Close to the the mizzenmast, Jim had not allowed the enemy sails to interfere with his story.

"...and there I was, three Spaniards on me at once, cutlass in one hand and me trousers half down from the leap, and I says to meself..."

"Jim, ready the guns!" James bellowed near enough the end of it.

"Aye, Cap’n, I heard. Let a man finish his tale before he dies in the middle of it, that’s all I ask."

Kit hauled on a rope beside him, wincing at every pull. "I mean to put four more notches on me count before this is done. Five, if that frigate’s fool enough to come close."

"Bah lad, yer ribs’ll put ye on yer back before ye reach three."

"Then I’ll count from me back!"

James left them to their shenanigans and turned his attention to the gundeck below.

Just in time, Sam came up with Tomás and Milagros behind him, all three of them fresh from getting the guns laid, the carriages loaded, and the round shot waiting in their mouths. The guns were ready and all they lacked was the match.

Sam came up beside James and leaned over the rail. The two sloops were close enough now that the men aboard them were plain to see, packed along the rails as thick as flies around a dead horse.

He stared at them for a moment, then let out a long whistle. "Sweet Jesus, they’ve brought enough men to rob a city, and all this fuss is over six of us. I feel almost insulted."

Tomás came up behind Sam with his head bowed, still murmuring beneath his breath.

He crossed himself solemnly. "San Miguel, ponte delante de nosotros. Santa Bárbara, permanece a nuestro lado. Santo Domingo, mantén tu mano sobre nosotros. Que el cobarde huya, que la hoja encuentre su blanco, que los muertos sean recibidos."¹

His voice was scarcely more than a whisper now, each name given the weight, as though he were calling a roll of the dead.

"Bloody hell, Tomás, save some saints for the next fight."

Milagros wiped her hands slowly over her clothes, rubbing away the sweat and powder that had gathered on her palms. The heat had brought a fine sheen to her skin, the dampness catching across her chest and the soft hollow between her breasts beneath the loose collar of her blouse.

She looked toward the Spaniards with open irritation. "Madre de Dios, do they mean to chase us all the way to hell before they learn we don’t want their company?"

James clicked his tongue and put the spyglass on both sloops.

Neither had run out a cannon and were approaching from the same direction, larboard, with their decks already crowded toward the rail.

Boarders.

They meant to get close enough to throw grapples and swarm the old lady before some handful pirates could do much more than curse them for the inconvenience.

Well, if they wanted her that badly, they could bloody well earn her first.

James worked a length of rope through the spokes and wedged a timber fast behind it. That would keep her steady without a hand on the wheel.

Then he left the old lady to mind herself and rushed below, shouting as he went.

"Hold your fire! Till she’s close enough to spit on!"

Kit and Jim had already taken their places among the guns on deck. Sam, Milagros, and Tomás went to their own below, spreading themselves among the pieces they had just finished preparing.

James took a gun for himself at the end of the row. "Fire together, then run for the next loaded piece and fire that one too! There’s no time to think once it starts, so don’t waste the time now!"

The whole deck went silent in that peculiar way, when the slaughter is about to begin.

Through the port, Santa Bárbara went from a distant shadow to a ship, then to a wall of timber close enough to touch. Her rail was packed with sailors ready to throw their grapples and jump over the open sea.

"Steady." James kept his eyes on her. "Steady."

She came alongside.

"Fire as she bears!"

Six guns went off together, and the smoke rolled back so thick it swallowed the whole world for a moment.

James had nothing to work with but noise.

Timber split apart with a crack like musket fire, followed by the shriek of sailors beyond the smoke. Then the cries came closer, mixed with the heavy thump of boots and the groan of Santa Bárbara’s hull as the whole sloop seemed to strain around the punishment.

He could hear the sailors calling to one another, and beneath it all the deep complaint of timber being asked to endure more than the ship had any business enduring.

"That’s six!" Kit shouted from inside the smoke, delighted.

"That’s one, ye greedy little bastard!" Jim shouted back. "Divide proper!"

The crew didn’t bother to wait for the smoke to clear, hammering along the row toward the second set of guns, loaded and waiting.

The next volley thundered out in an instant.

The blast punched the smoke aside enough for James to see what they had done.

Santa Bárbara’s rail was gone in three places while the deck behind it had been smashed into a bloody ruin, splintered timber mixed with bodies and scraps of sailors, blood running in black-red sheets toward the scuppers. The cannonballs had ploughed through the crowded deck and left nothing clean behind them.

Over the wreckage, the smoke hung thick with cries, curses, and the wet groans of those that had been broken but not yet killed.

Galleon pounders were more than a sloop could endure, and twelve rounds in less than a minute had turned her deck into a butcher’s floor.

James laughed despite the situation, while the crew below rose to see the damage they caused.

Nine guns were still loaded on this side of the old lady, and for one loud, foolish breath it seemed the whole fight might already belong to them.

"One down!" Milagros grinned fiercely through the smoke. "Bring me the other!"

"Captain!"

Tomás’s voice came through the celebration, sharp enough to end it at once.

"The other sloop! She has come round on our stern!"

The fight was only half fought, and already it had changed.