H.M.S Valor: Treachery And Triumph: A war time adventure on the high seas Cal Clement (free ebooks for android txt) 📖

it. He wanted to punish the slavers, lay their ships along the bottom of the sea and wet his sword in their blood. He had devised a plan to do just that and northward they sailed, destined for another engagement. The Maiden sailed in lead with the Shepherd abreast of her, the Gazelle followed along often it was everything their prize crew could do to keep up with the pair of frigates. The Africans who had been freed from the Gazelle were quartered now between all three ships. After being fed and well treated some began to lend into the work aboard ship. James offered passage to the nearest port for anyone who wished to depart, but that seemed to Lilith to ring hollow. Even if he delivered them ashore with provisions and perhaps even weapons, it would be only a matter of time until they found themselves in the custody of slavers. Lilith knew, from firsthand experience, as she readily told all of the freed captives, their greatest hope at freedom from bondage was the Drowned Maiden.

A slight shift of sea current prompted Lilith to make a correction, it was minor and required no sail adjustment. Looking aloft as she moved the wheel expertly, she watched and shifting her glance between the compass in front of the helm and the lofty top gallant sails she made her correction while keeping her sails full and taut. The procedure had become second nature, repeated so many times a day it no longer required active thought. After her adjustment Lilith looked over toward the starboard rail and noticed one of the Africans they had taken on. He was leaning awkwardly on a makeshift board crutch, hobbling along next to the tall wiry white man that had come aboard with him. The young man was dripping beads of sweat and grimacing in pain, but stubbornly trudging onward under his companion’s watchful encouragement. She watched as they made progress up one rail, across the stern and back along the other, walking several rounds of the deck before coming to a rest beside the helm.

“A few more days my friend and you won’t need any help from me,” the tall thin man exclaimed.

“I can walk with this. But I want to run, I want to climb and swim and run,” replied the one legged African.

“No. Omi, I’m afraid running isn’t in your future. You may learn how to swim or climb without your leg, but I don’t see how you could ever run,” the man replied, adjusting a set of wire rimmed glasses up his nose and wiping his brow with a dirty, stained kerchief.

“You did this. You took my leg from me. Now what do I do? Hobble on this for the rest of my life!” the African replied, shaking the board crutch in his companion’s face.

“I’ve explained this to you Omi, it was your leg or your life. I am terribly sorry for the pain it’s caused you, but that’s far preferable to not breathing.”

The young man slumped from his crutch onto the deck of the ship, looking exhausted and hopelessly depressed. Lilith looked on, silently admiring his tenacity while holding in a grimace for his obvious pain.

“I think you are brave,” said Lilith. Her words floated across the deck like a strong favorable wind, filling the young man’s sails. He looked over to Lilith and then back down at the deck.

“What is brave about not having my leg?” he replied.

“It’s not missing a leg that makes you brave. It’s the fact that you lost your leg and yet you refuse to give up. Some of the others told me you killed your captor’s captain after he shot your father, that took courage.” Lilith answered.

“I was not brave. Just scared and angry.”

“Oh, but you were. In fact, all the braver because you were scared. There are grown men with both their legs who would not attack a ship’s captain. You fought one who held you prisoner and defeated him. That is courage,” said Lilith, looking over as he raised his eyes again. “My name is Lilith. What’s yours?”

“Omibwe,” he answered.

“I think you are brave Omibwe.” Lilith encouraged. “There are scores of sailors missing limbs. Some captains even.”

Omibwe stood, fueled by the attention of the beauty he had admired from the moment he first saw her. Now she was paying him compliments. The doctor stayed at his side as he made his way over next to the helm.

“How long have you been a pirate?” he asked.

“Ahh, two months, I think. I’m not completely sure. It feels like forever since I ran away.” Lilith answered.

“Where did you run away from miss?” the tall man in glasses asked. Lilith looked over at him awkwardly, cocking her head and giving him a sideways look. His French accent skewed her countenance against him before she even really considered why.

“A cane plantation. In Haiti,” her reply came in a curt tone.

“Oh lovely. I have wanted to see Port-Au-Prince and…” his rambling cut short as Lilith’s right hand drifted from the wheel to the hilt of a sword at her side.

“I said nothing of Port-Au-Prince. Why would you? Where are you from Frenchman? Why do you have so many questions for me?” Lilith demanded. Her voice had become cold and cutting in an instant masking the flash of fear she felt that somehow this man had been sent after her.

“No, dear, I… I only meant to say Port-Au-Prince among other places I desire to see and explore. I’ve no interest in your past beyond conversation I swear it,” the man answered, stammering out his words quickly as he backed away. He did not see Chibs approach behind him or notice until his back bumped blindly into the barrel-chested sailor.

“What’s got you in a fit doctor? Lilith, did you frighten him?” Chibs poked, chuckling.

“He’s asking too many questions.” Lilith replied, replacing her hand back to the helm and her eyes to the compass.

“Not a wise thing to do aboard a pirate