Chapter 8 #2
Rais Jovar. Commander of the bashaw’s fleet. A Scotsman turned Turk. Rabidly anti-American, although no one had yet to learn why. His real name was Peter Cameron.
“Welcome back, Peter,” Xavier murmured.
“Cap’n?” Tubbs asked. The Pearl was under full sail now, as well. The two ships appeared to be racing toward one another, destined for a head-on collision.
“Hold her steady,” Xavier said. And then he shouted, “Attack!”
For one moment, Tubb’s visage was comical in its complete shock. And then he shouted, “Attack!”
The Pearl spewed her first broadside even though she was still trapped in the inlet with no room to maneuver. The first cannon shot just missed the corsair cruiser. The Tripolitans did not return fire.
Xavier smiled. “Port cannons, fire!”
Four cannonballs arced out across the water. Xavier and his entire crew watched with bated breath. Three shots missed the ship, landing just shy of the bow, but the fourth scored a direct hit.
His crew cheered.
And the corsair began returning fire. Cannon shot narrowly missed the bow and mainsail of Xavier’s ship.
Xavier smiled tightly. “You’ve acquired better gunners since our last encounter, Peter.”
“Cap’n? Five degrees starboard?” Tubbs asked.
Only one hundred yards separated the bows of both ships. Clearly the corsair and the frigate would collide head-on if one of them did not change course. “Hold her steady,” Xavier said. “Hold all fire.”
“Cap’n, beg your pardon, but we’re gonna ram her,” Tubbs said, his voice very high. “An’ she’s gonna ram us.”
It was either that or be trapped inside the inlet. “Yes,” Xavier said. “And I imagine the cruiser shall suffer more than we ourselves shall.”
Tubbs was white, but his hands remained steady on the helm.
An unnatural silence had descended upon the ship.
The entire crew of the Pearl was white faced and frozen in their positions.
The prow of the Pearl slipped through the two black sentinel boulders marking the entrance to the inlet.
The prow of the corsair ship was spewing white water as she raced toward them.
Xavier no longer used his spyglass. From where he stood, he could see Jovar perfectly. Like Xavier, the Scot captain stood braced and intent and unmoving.
Shit, Xavier thought.
Eighty yards separated the two ships now as they raced directly toward one another.
Seventy-five.
“Oh God,” Tubbs said. It was a moan.
And then Jovar shouted.
The huge mainsail swung wildly across the deck of the ship. A Turk sailor was struck and swept overboard. And the corsair cruiser suddenly slowed, beginning to veer a full 180 degrees, changing course.
Xavier smiled. Sweat streamed down his back. Tubbs whooped, his color returning. His men cheered. Timmy scampered out from behind the mainmast and danced a jig. And the Pearl burst free of the inlet, the red, white, and blue American flag flying.
The two ships were quickly engaged in battle. Broadsides were exchanged, but without any direct hits. The two captains danced around one another with the utmost care. Fifteen minutes became thirty. Thirty minutes became a full hour.
“I’ve taught you well, Peter,” Xavier said to the encroaching night.
He was exhausted. It was becoming hard to concentrate the way he must if he was to win this battle. He hadn’t realized it before, but he had suffered a knife wound in his arm on the beach. He had wrapped his kerchief around it temporarily.
His men, he knew, had also been pushed to their limits.
They needed food and rest. And they had not taken on any water, their supplies were very low, and after this engagement they would need to resupply gunpowder and ammunition as well.
Jovar, however, was not quitting. He was only firing when in range, and thus far, the Pearl had taken three hits, although nothing was irreparable.
Jovar had learned both caution and patience.
The Maja had also taken three indirect hits. But she and her crew were well fed and fresh. And Jovar had yet to win a single battle with Dali Capitan.
And it was growing dark. If the battle did not end soon, Jovar would be at a distinct advantage, knowing these waters intimately. Xavier had only his Spanish pilot to rely upon—a man who had already proven himself untrustworthy.
Immediately Xavier turned to Tubbs. He could not believe he had not taken care of Fernandez earlier. “Jesus. Where is Fernandez?”
“I don’t know. He went down below when we were ambushed on the beach.” Tubbs’s eyes widened. “Cap’n, you don’t think… ?”
Xavier already knew who the traitor was. There was no other possibility. “Barlow! Find Fernandez and put him in irons. Now.”
The burly seaman quickly obeyed. Xavier and Tubbs watched another broadside from the Pearl narrowly miss the corsair’s stem. “Hold all fire,” Xavier said. They could not afford to waste their shots now.
Barlow returned to the forecastle. “Cap’n, sir, I can’t find “im.”
Xavier stiffened. Filled with consternation.
“The lily-livered scum-eating dog is hidin',” Tubbs growled. “I’ll string him up myself, I will, when we find him. If you let me, that is, sir.”
Xavier barked at Barlow, “Mount a search. He can’t be far.”
Barlow wheeled and hurried off.
Xavier had a very bad feeling. He turned to watch the corsair ship, which had veered very slightly leeward. “What are you up to now, Peter?”
And then he smelled the smoke.
Just as Tubbs cocked his head. “Cap’n—is something burning?”
Xavier whirled just as the cry “Fire! Fire below deck!” rang out.
He ran.
He met Allen at the top of the stairs. The young seaman’s face was pale. “In the hold, sir, and it’s bad! I don’t think we can put it out!”
Xavier turned, waving his men past him and down toward the hold. The very same men who moments ago had been manning the cannons on deck were carrying buckets of water below. But he already sensed it was too late.
And then the Pearl bucked like a bronco.
Xavier had been in enough battles to know that she had suffered a direct hit, midhull. Beneath his feet, the deck tilted wildly to the starboard. Smoke began to cloud the narrow corridor below him. Someone screamed. And one thought was etched on his brain, searing him.
Betrayed.
He had been betrayed. And the Spaniard was only a paid lackey. Someone else was entirely responsible.
But who?
And why?