In The Arms Of My Pirate

A Bloody Battle

Nervous excitement buzzed through the crew as they readied the ship for battle. Crutchley directed the men to load the cannons on the main deck and retrieve barrels of gunpowder from the hold.

"What are my orders, Captain?" Octavia asked, watching the American gunship as it steadily approached, their heading in line to intercept the Black Ghostess.

With the stiff breeze blowing in the other ship's favor, they would be within firing distance in only a few minutes.

Charles drew his pistol and examined it. "Return to my cabin and lock the door."

"But—" Octavia sputtered. The crew would never forgive her for hiding away safely while they stood out in the open amid a rainstorm of bullets and cannonballs. She knew enough about them to understand that their retaliation would make a flogging look merciful.

"Do as I say," Charles snapped, his gaze boring into her with an intensity she didn't understand.

They were interrupted by the boom of a cannon from the American ship. The cannonball splashed harmlessly into the water beside the Ghostess.

The crew laughed nervously and Crutchley raised a cheer, shaking his saber above his head.

"I need a weapon, Captain," she said, balling her hands into fists as the gunship continued to approach. She could see the American sailors scurrying about on deck, loading more cannons.

Charles glared at her, the muscles in his jaw working. "I have more pistols in my cabin."

Octavia nodded sharply and bounded down the stairs to the main deck.

"Return fire!" Charles roared.

The boom of the cannon shook the deck and Octavia stumbled. She looked around widely. The American gunship was almost upon them. She could hear their captain barking orders, his voice carried over by the wind.

Octavia regained her footing as the deck shuddered again. Thick white smoke from the cannons filled the air, making her cough. A cannonball whistled through the air above her and she dropped onto her stomach, covering her head. The railing on the other side of the ship splintered as the cannonball clipped the top before falling into the sea.

The crew shouted and fired again in response. Crutchley shouted orders, but Octavia couldn't hear him over the buzzing in her ears.

The sails above her snapped in the wind like a deranged raven. Someone shouted nearby and Octavia looked up. Oliver huddled behind a barrel of gunpowder, his hands over his ears.

Keeping her head low, Octavia ducked through the running sailors and crouched beside her young friend.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, pulling his hands away from his face.

Pale and shivering, the boy shook his head. "Will they kill us?"

"They're certainly trying," Octavia said, wincing as a bullet whizzed by them and imbedded into the wood behind her.

She took his hand in his and looked up at the commotion. At the helm, Charles spun the wheel. With a groan, the ship listed to portside.

The sailors on the American ship shouted in surprise as the ships crashed together, the wood groaning and splintering at the impact.

Ropes dropped from the sails as some of the crew prepared to swing across to the neighboring ship.

"Get out of here," Octavia shouted above the noise, pulling Oliver to his feet.

The boy stumbled, paralyzed by fear. "W-where?"

"Get below deck and hide," she said, tugging him along to the hatch in the deck. She lifted it and pushed him onto the ladder.