Woman Overboard

Chapter 11 : Surrender (4)

Edward

August 28th, 1820

(8:37 AM)

Edward decided to sit this one out.

After so many impromptu unarmed battles, one grew weary of the imposing panic caused by an incoming ship. With their crew bent so out of shape, he supposed they were diving into another slaughterhouse.

He already had a plan. He would hang around until the fight broke out, so if anyone asked him about it, he'd know what happened. Then, he would slip away from the gunpowder barrel he was sitting on and would escape below deck before anyone could touch him.

If he had any power over her, Edward would have factored Aless into his plan. Unfortunately, she wanted nothing to do with him.

She should not have been above deck. Watching her amble around dependent on her cane, he had to stem the impulse to run over and assist her. She and Afiba were trying (and failing) to calm the crew. They didn't use the gunshot tactic this time -- Edward suspected they didn't have the ammunition to spare.

The Alice wore a navy ship's usual uniform of blue and white. It stared up at The Brookes, nearly half her size. Yet, Edward knew they had the disadvantage. The Alice's crew was bound to be well armed and healthy, whereas their stock of weapons was depleting by the day and their crew was mangled beyond recognition.

A couple more stragglers appeared above deck as a negro man with a thick afro and a torn shirt yanked at the bell. Afiba rushed over to him, shoving him away from it. "Go back!" she shouted. "Ye ain't needed up here!"

They were, of course. They needed everybody they could spare if they were going to fight again.

Edward wondered if they could simply run The Alice down with The Brookes' hull. She was big enough. Why couldn't they?

Suddenly, the noise ceased. Something more frightening than a gunshot had occurred.

Edward watched the man swing over the gap, his coattails sailing behind him like streamers on a grand kite. His face carried the dignified, entitled crease of a navy officer. Glancing at The Alice, he thought of how much it looked like The Elizabeth. He wondered if Aless was thinking the same. She looked sick but stood tall with a bloodcurdling scowl.

She'd always favored scowls over smiles. Edward remembered watching her face shift from her default grimace to a glowing smile whenever Daniel touched her. He wished he could have the same effect on her.

The man landed on the wall, his boot heels hooked precariously over the side of the ship. He stood there a moment as if expecting a round of applause for his grand entrance. The crew only glared and tried not to look pitiful. A good third of them were below, injured in various ways, and another fourth of the people on deck had no weapons. He wondered if The Alice's captain could tell.

He hopped down, turning his head like an owl to look at them all. His posture said, did you notice my muscles?

Edward hated him. He had no idea where this urge to punch him square in the nose had come from, but he could hardly resist feeding it. He could imagine the impact, the satisfying crunch, crack of bones breaking and the trickle of warm blood over his fist. Oh, how he longed for that.

At the front of their pack stood Aless and Afiba, the power-couple dream team with their long hair, delicate cheekbones, and guns pointed outward. Edward wondered how this had happened. Back on land, women couldn't even own land. And now, they were commanding crews and killing men?

He supposed it was his own fault for nominating Aless as captain in the first place. True, he had never really expected the crew to accept it as well as they did. He figured she would be overtaken within her first two weeks and he would land the job without having to walk on Daniel's grave to get it.

Aless, he supposed, did have a certain amount of charisma. The men respected her and no one dared to cross her anymore. There had been a time when she was a quiet, obedient navy wife, and Edward supposed some part of her still was, but she had crawled out of her shell to reveal something quite different and infinitely angrier.

Her hand did not shake as she held her pistol out like a hand to shake. "Who are you?" she demanded. Edward couldn't help but worry that she might collapse in the middle of all this. Afiba seemed to be thinking the same thing. She hovered close, her arm extended out a little as if to keep Aless upright.

The man cleared his throat, making a show of his nonchalance as he leaned casually against the wall. "I am Captain Henry Jameson," he said, "Here with a message to you, Miss Alessandra, from the governor of South Carolina."

Aless's lip twitched into a snarl. "That's Captain Broderick, if you will." She looked pale as paper, bullets of sweat darting down her face. "And yes, you may read your message. Then you may see yourself out."

Captain Jameson nodded and took a scroll from his belt. "I will read," he agreed. "But I will not be going anywhere, love."

He cleared his throat and began. "I, the honorable Governor John Geddes, do declare Alessandra Roberts--" Aless shuddered at Daniel's last name "--And the former crew of the stolen navy ship Elizabeth traitors, outcasts, and fugitives of the law. These dangerous pirates, if found, are to be brought immediately to the state jailhouse where they are to be publicly executed. A reward of one thousand dollars will be given to the honorable souls who turns in these disgraceful criminals."

Aless interrupted, "So you are a bounty hunter?"

Henry smiled a smile that could be called a snarl. "No, love. I am a naval officer, like your husband used to be."

While Aless stood still and silent like she had been sucker punched, Captain Jameson continued. "The pirates are known to be traveling on the stolen slave ship, The Brookes," said he, looking over the top of his paper at the angry faces splayed out over Brookes' deck. "The Brookes is manned by unwieldy escaped slaves who are known for pirating ships near the Charleston Harbor, actively ruining our country's reputation among trading nations."

Henry let the paper drop to his side. "I think I will stop there," he said. "You understand the gist of it, I suppose. You all have a mighty high price on your heads."

Aless and Afiba exchanged a look. Neither dropped their guns. "Sounds like we does," Afiba agreed.

He nodded. "But see, the governor wants you alive," he informed them. "He wants to make a show of you. You have made the people very upset, you see, and they aren't happy with the governor for letting the nonsense go on so long. So after what you did to The Francis, he began advocating for your destruction."

"So, you aren't going to kill us," Aless reasoned.

Henry held up a hand. "Slow down, love. I was getting there." He cleared his throat and continued, "I am offering you a rare opportunity: surrender peacefully."

Afiba let out a harsh shout of laughter. "Yea right," she snorted.

"It isn't as farfetched as you may think," Henry told her. "In fact, in your position, I might consider it. If you surrender peacefully, you negroes have a good chance of living. They won't kill you if you're still good for labor." He turned to Aless. "And you, miss, might be pardoned yourself. You're just a woman, after all. You might be jailed for a night or too, but I highly doubt the governor will execute you if you get on your knees and beg him not to."

"No," Aless snapped. "I will not get on my knees for anyone."

She pulled the trigger and the bullet darted straight between his eyes.