Jesamiah a hefty push between the shoulder blades, sending him stumbling forward. Instantly recovering his balance Jesamiah spun on his heels, his hand, in the same movement, going to the knife tucked securely in his boot. Underestimating the speed of his reaction, De Cabo barely saw the flashing glint of Jesamiah’s blade, but felt it go in diagonally upward under the ribs.
‘ A knife needs an upward thrust, boy, for the ribs lie open to it going in from below, but they block a downward stab. From above you’ll leave a bloody gash, also leave yer opponent alive to ‘ave another go at ye. Go in low and upwards, boy. Always, low and upwards .’ One of the two efficient methods of killing that Malachias Taylor had taught Jesamiah. It had saved his life on more than one occasion.
De Cabo was dead before he met the floor.
“I understand full well, Capitaine ,” Jesamiah said without a trace of compassion as he wiped the blade on the dead Frenchman’s coat. “A pity you did not.”
He re-sheathed his knife, stepped over the twitching corpse, shut the door and ignoring the terrified Governor cowering within, locked it. On turning, found Rue standing there, his own blade in his hand.
Jesamiah stood quite still. He had killed de Cabo with indifference, a contemptible man, but Rue? He had thought Rue was different, had thought of him as a friend. Ah, what was friendship among pirates? Loyalty only ran the length of a deck and lasted as long as the gold and the rum was available. Or until the hangman put a noose around your neck. Friends either got themselves hanged, or it seemed, decided to try to kill you.
Jesamiah’s fingers went to his ribbons as their eyes met, held. And slowly Rue smiled, lowered the blade.
“’Ad you not moved so quick, mon ami ,” he said as he flipped the knife upward, “I would ‘ave dealt with ‘im for you.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” Jesamiah said, releasing the tension from his muscles by resting his arm along Rue’s shoulders. “But would it not have been a little late? I might have already been dead.”
Rue rubbed at his chin, pursing his lips, holding his amusement. “You know, I ‘ad not thought of that!”
Jesamiah barked his own laugh, slapped the flat of his hand between his friend’s shoulders. “Remember it another time, eh? I have no difficulty with killing scum such as that bastard, but,” he said, as they walked together companionably up the dank, slippery steps into the fresh, clean air, “had you decided to row in de Cabo’s boat, I would have been obliged to kill you also. Savvy?”
No one aboard the longboat spoke of the absence of their French captain, nor was anything said as Jesamiah stepped on to the deck of the Salvation . No one queried his right to set their course after the anchor cable had been cut with an axe – no time to haul at the capstan to bring it aboard. Dawn would soon be breaking and Jesamiah had no desire to be caught at anchorage in daylight. Efficient and capable he ordered the ship, under full sail into the open swell of the Atlantic. Before he went below, he called the crew together.
“I take it you have no objection to my making free use of the great cabin?”
Only the captain used that cabin. No one said a word.
“Nor, I assume, do you object to my preference of promoting Rue as my quartermaster?” He gestured an apology to the previous incumbent. “You’re a good man, but Rue is the better.”
The man shrugged. He had not much cared for the job anyway. The quartermaster was always the first into a fight and the last to sample the rum. And aside, anyone who was fast enough to kill de Cabo was not a man to argue with.
Ten
31st July – 1716
Concern etching her face, Tiola squatted on her haunches. “Your arm is broken, Kisty, here where the swelling is worst.” She indicated but did not touch the girl’s injured forearm. “It feels as though it is a clean fracture of the bone we call the ulna.” Added with
‘ A knife needs an upward thrust, boy, for the ribs lie open to it going in from below, but they block a downward stab. From above you’ll leave a bloody gash, also leave yer opponent alive to ‘ave another go at ye. Go in low and upwards, boy. Always, low and upwards .’ One of the two efficient methods of killing that Malachias Taylor had taught Jesamiah. It had saved his life on more than one occasion.
De Cabo was dead before he met the floor.
“I understand full well, Capitaine ,” Jesamiah said without a trace of compassion as he wiped the blade on the dead Frenchman’s coat. “A pity you did not.”
He re-sheathed his knife, stepped over the twitching corpse, shut the door and ignoring the terrified Governor cowering within, locked it. On turning, found Rue standing there, his own blade in his hand.
Jesamiah stood quite still. He had killed de Cabo with indifference, a contemptible man, but Rue? He had thought Rue was different, had thought of him as a friend. Ah, what was friendship among pirates? Loyalty only ran the length of a deck and lasted as long as the gold and the rum was available. Or until the hangman put a noose around your neck. Friends either got themselves hanged, or it seemed, decided to try to kill you.
Jesamiah’s fingers went to his ribbons as their eyes met, held. And slowly Rue smiled, lowered the blade.
“’Ad you not moved so quick, mon ami ,” he said as he flipped the knife upward, “I would ‘ave dealt with ‘im for you.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” Jesamiah said, releasing the tension from his muscles by resting his arm along Rue’s shoulders. “But would it not have been a little late? I might have already been dead.”
Rue rubbed at his chin, pursing his lips, holding his amusement. “You know, I ‘ad not thought of that!”
Jesamiah barked his own laugh, slapped the flat of his hand between his friend’s shoulders. “Remember it another time, eh? I have no difficulty with killing scum such as that bastard, but,” he said, as they walked together companionably up the dank, slippery steps into the fresh, clean air, “had you decided to row in de Cabo’s boat, I would have been obliged to kill you also. Savvy?”
No one aboard the longboat spoke of the absence of their French captain, nor was anything said as Jesamiah stepped on to the deck of the Salvation . No one queried his right to set their course after the anchor cable had been cut with an axe – no time to haul at the capstan to bring it aboard. Dawn would soon be breaking and Jesamiah had no desire to be caught at anchorage in daylight. Efficient and capable he ordered the ship, under full sail into the open swell of the Atlantic. Before he went below, he called the crew together.
“I take it you have no objection to my making free use of the great cabin?”
Only the captain used that cabin. No one said a word.
“Nor, I assume, do you object to my preference of promoting Rue as my quartermaster?” He gestured an apology to the previous incumbent. “You’re a good man, but Rue is the better.”
The man shrugged. He had not much cared for the job anyway. The quartermaster was always the first into a fight and the last to sample the rum. And aside, anyone who was fast enough to kill de Cabo was not a man to argue with.
Ten
31st July – 1716
Concern etching her face, Tiola squatted on her haunches. “Your arm is broken, Kisty, here where the swelling is worst.” She indicated but did not touch the girl’s injured forearm. “It feels as though it is a clean fracture of the bone we call the ulna.” Added with
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