Blackbeard's Freedom (Voyages of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 1) Read online

  BLACKBEARD'S FREEDOM

  Book 1 of:

  THE VOYAGES OF QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE

  Jeremy McLean

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author of this novel.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental… Or is it?

  Copyright © 2015 Jeremy McLean

  All rights reserved.

  Be a pirate! Sign up for Jeremy Mclean's Reader Group mailing list and get a free copy of the novella Bartholomew Roberts' Faith.

  Click here to claim your booty: Jeremy McLean's Reader Group

  1. Edward Thatch

  Salt water and sweat mixed as it fell from Edward's hair and forehead. The drops went down his cheek, falling onto his lips and leaving a sickening taste in his mouth. But it was not the hot sun which caused him to perspire so. No, it was the twenty marines, in their stark blue uniforms, with their rifles pointed at him. He steadied his shaking hand on the flintlock pistol he had pointed at the back of their captain's head.

  Oh Father, what am I doing?

  "Think about what you're doing, boy. The way you're going, there's no ending with you free. We can negotiate here. You have a choice to make: one can lead to a happy life, and the other never ends well."

  No, no, I will be free. And I won't let you stand in my way. It's too late for choices.

  Edward cocked the gun against the captain's head, his mind clear on what he needed to do. "Listen carefully," Edward said aloud for all to hear, "for I'm only going to say this once."

  Five Hours Ago

  Edward Thatch breathed deep, taking in the full scent of that salty sweet air he so loved. He held that breath far longer than normal, like a jealous lover who thinks he could lose his love at any moment. He had to let go, but with another breath it was back again.

  "Still don't feel real, does it?" A man came up beside Edward and placed his arm around Edward's shoulder. He glanced sideways to see Henry Morgan, a third generation Welshman and his best friend.

  Henry was not as tall as Edward, but he made up for the height with might. His straight brown hair was in a ponytail, and his rolled sleeves displayed his farmer's tan.

  "Well, it has only been a few days since we started whaling. Any man would be hard pressed to come back to earth after too much heaven," Edward replied.

  Henry laughed with vigor. "We need you here on the ship, Captain."

  Edward smiled. "You know me, Henry. You couldn't keep me from this beauty with a loaded pistol."

  Edward and Henry watched the crew of the ship called Freedom from the raised aft deck. The men milled about, performing various duties aboard the three-masted ship.

  On the aft deck there were some fixing the sails and rigging. On the quarterdeck the helmsman concentrated on changes in the skies and sea with help from a cabin boy. On the main deck some were checking on the main mast while others cleaned. Far ahead on the raised foredeck there were men loafing about as far from their captain's eye as possible.

  "Despite the oddness of how Benjamin Hornigold sold us the vessel, it is a fine ship."

  Edward cringed. "Let us never speak of the incident again. My stomach churns with the mention of his name."

  "Come now, it's not every day that one buys a warship at a fraction of the cost while tanked off whiskey." He slapped Edward on the back as he laughed.

  "Yes, but as we are trying to be whalers, having a warship is unnecessary."

  Before they could continue their discussion, they heard yelling on the waist of the ship.

  "Ye little snot-nosed wanker, you stole me money, I know ye did!" Sam was yelling to another crewman on deck.

  Samuel Bellamy, the apparent aggressor, was a young man of around five feet eleven inches, but like a true cockney Londoner he acted as if he were ten feet tall. Despite his prettiness, which no doubt made women ogle, there was darkness in his jet-black eyes.

  "I stole nuthin' of yers," the other crewman yelled back. "Why don't ye check it again? All that black hair gettin' in yer way."

  "Stop yer lyin' and give back me money!" Sam rushed up to the man and pushed him hard, sending him sprawling against the starboard railing.

  This can't be good, Edward thought, before bolting down to the waist of the ship. Henry followed a few steps behind him.

  The other crewmembers gathered around in anticipation of a fight. The crewman accused of stealing pushed Sam back, and then they circled each other as the rest chanted. Edward pushed through the throng. Sam threw the first punch straight in the face of the other man, who countered with a right upper to his chin.

  Sam's head snapped back, but he seemed unfazed by the blow. His lips drew back in a cruel smile, and his eyes glistened as if he were enjoying himself. He burst like a cannon with a punch to the crewman's gut, and followed it with a downward right against his jaw. The crewman fell to the floor, unconscious, but Sam kept beating on him. Edward still had not reached them.

  William, the crew's boatswain, jumped from the main mast and slid down a rope to the deck. He grabbed Sam by the arm, flipped him over on his back, and pinned him to the deck.

  William was mature in demeanor despite his young age. His eyes and face were devoid of expression, and he seemed incapable of smiling. He could blend in with anyone else among the ship, but, upon closer inspection, revealed a man sharper in mind and stronger in body than most.

  Sam struggled and writhed but was unable to escape William's grip. Edward, finally at the centre of the throng, shouted, "Let him go, William." William rose to his feet just as Henry forced his way to the front of the crowd.

  Henry glared angrily at the beaten and bloodied crewman and at Sam, who had just gotten to his knees. "You bastard!" He leveled Sam again with a thunderous punch.

  Edward stepped between Sam and Henry. "Henry, stop! I will have no more fighting aboard my ship!" He pointed to the unconscious crewman. "Someone help that poor sod." Two crewmen carried the injured man below deck.

  Edward walked to Sam, still stretched out on the deck, and looked daggers down at him. His dark eyes pierced Sam, carrying a force greater than Henry's punch.

  "Another incident like this and you're off my ship, and maybe I won't wait for us to make port," he said.

  "That rat bastard stole me money, I knows it!"

  Edward knelt and leaned close to Sam's face. Henry and William stood on either side of him. "We'll investigate the money, but my warning stands. You are not to get into another fight. Understood?"

  Sam tried to stare down Edward, but the intensity of Edward's gaze made him turn away. "You got it, Chief."

  "What was that?"

  "Captain," Sam replied with emphasis.

  Edward offered his hand, but Sam ignored it and picked himself up off the floor before stalking off.

  Edward watched Sam go. Then he looked at his officers and the crowd of seamen. "Back to work," he ordered.

  The crew resumed their duties with a fresh reminder of who their captain was. They also knew now to stay away from Sam.

  Edward turned to Henry and William. "William, keep an eye on Sam. I don't want him causing problems again. You stop him at the first sign of trouble."

  William saluted in his no-nonsense way. "Yes, Captain." He was about to turn and walk away with his orders, but something caught his keen eye. "Captain, there's a storm approaching. We must warn the helmsman," he stated in his perfect English, so unlike Sam's cockney twang.

  Edward searched the sky. In the east, the clouds were pr
actically roiling, already black and heavy with a hard promise of hard rain. "Hard to starboard!" he called out. "Keep this ship beating to the wind. We don't want to be here when that menace hits!"

  Henry stopped Edward before he went to help the crew prepare. "We'll never escape that storm without releasing the foresail."

  Edward glanced to the front mast and the sail Henry mentioned. It had been stuck in place since he'd bought the ship, and whenever they tried to find the reason it was an exercise in futility.

  I've never seen a storm come in so quickly without warning. Henry's right, this ship is too slow with only two sails.

  "I need five strong arms with me now!" No sooner did Edward yell the command than Sam, Henry, and William joined him on his way to the bow of the ship. "We're unfurling the topsail one way or the other. Our lives depend on it. We need to find the reason it's stuck and make it unstuck. Go, go, go! No time to waste!"

  Darkness was descending upon them as the smell of the sea air faded and clean rain flooded in.

  The group of sailors inspected the rigging and climbed up to the sail by the ropes. They checked the knots, pulling and tugging on whatever they thought might be holding the sail down. Before they made any progress, the rain began. Everyone knew what this meant, and they worked all the harder to accomplish their task. Many of the rest of the crew broke out the oars and started rowing to make the ship move faster.

  Sam was in the middle of the mast checking the rigging when he suddenly yelled, "I found it!" He pointed excitedly to a spot on the mast where a metal notch held a rope down. "I need a knife!" Someone on the foredeck heard his cry and tossed him a small knife. He placed the knife in the notch and pried at it. He went this way and that as the rain worsened and the wind picked up. Slowly the notch inched its way out of the wood. Minutes passed like hours as the storm grew worse. Edward and the crew watched, their lives in the hands of the one who had almost killed a mate not minutes ago.

  With one final snap, the metal hook flew out and hit the deck with a clang. Several men released the restraining ropes and the topsail unfurled.

  The crew of the Freedom started to cheer, but those cries of victory died very quickly in every throat. Painted on the topsail was a black skull with two crossed bones beneath it. Lightning flashed a brilliance of white light and a crash of thunder followed soon after. Sounds of astonishment rippled through the crew. The Jolly Roger, the sign of a pirate, was painted on their sail.

  Edward couldn't believe what he saw. He felt sick. Sweat broke out on his brow, mixed with the rain and ran down his face. He stood still as a statue. What is that doing on my ship?

  "There's no time to worry about that right now, Ed!" Henry shouted. "Hold it together!"

  Edward blinked his eyes back into focus. "You're right. We have to hurry." Edward ran to the edge of the foredeck. "Pull those oars in before they get taken away. Soon we'll be moving too fast for them to do any good." A mate nodded and yelled back something in the affirmative before issuing commands to the other men. "This storm will not beat us, gentlemen! We're sailors, not craven landlubbers."

  Edward joined in hoisting the heavy oars onto the deck and securing them. "Do not yield, men. This storm cannot topple us!"

  The crew ran this way and that, keeping the sails and the ship together in the strong winds. Edward stayed in the thick of it with the other crewmates, and soon his arms legs burned with the strain.

  After what seemed like hours, the wind and rain had abated somewhat, and Edward knew from his father's teaching that this was a crucial time. If the sails were left up now the ship could be blown in the wrong direction.

  "Secure those sails before the wind changes!" Edward shouted while he ran to the aft sail. He and the other free crewmembers rushed to pull up the sails. The rain had made the ropes slick and harder to work with.

  Edward pulled on the rigging with all his might. His arms burned with the struggle. The rough grain of the rope dug into his calloused hand, but he gritted his teeth to push away the pain.

  Edward finished raising the aft sail, but noticed the crew still furling the foresail. "Hand that foresail quickly!" Then he looked beyond the sails, beyond the bow, and saw a thing more shocking to him than the sight of the Jolly Roger.

  A ship was heading straight for the Freedom.

  He removed a spyglass from his coat pocket and peered through it. Judging from the new ship's size, it was a frigate much like the Freedom. It was a marine vessel and, unlike the Freedom, was equipped with cannons. The name emblazoned on the side was H.M.S. Pearl.

  He spun on his heels and shouted, "Everyone! Finish what you're doing, and raise your hands in the air. A marine vessel is approaching off our bow! Someone bring me something white tied to a plank!"

  In a flurry of frantic activity, the crew rigged the sails and a cabin boy brought Edward a white shirt fastened to a pole. He ran to the front of the deck and waved it in the direction of the oncoming vessel. Everyone else did as ordered and raised their hands in the air in submission. Henry had come onto the main deck, ready for the inevitable. Sam was trying to hide behind others, but still had his hands raised. William was also trying to hide, but was doing a better job of it than Sam. Edward kept waving the pole as the marine ship pulled up beside them. He then dropped the pole and went down to the main deck to join Henry. He opened up a hinge on the railing of the ship to allow a gangplank to be placed down and the marine officers to board. He then backed away and raised his hands in the air.

  We'll talk our way out of this. They have to believe us.

  Marines tied the ships together with grappling hooks, and extended gangplanks over the water. The officers and guards boarded with muskets raised. Their leader was a man of no more than average height who nonetheless carried himself with the deadly grace of a lion on the prowl. He had the clean-shaven face of a youth, but his uniform revealed him to be an accomplished military captain.

  "Who is your captain?" He glanced around at the ragged crew, who stood frozen in poses of surrender. "And would you please all put your hands down? You've already lost any credibility as a threat." Everyone obeyed. "Now, which one of you is the captain of this ship? Speak up!"

  "I am… sir." Edward stepped forward.

  The marine commander looked Edward up and down. Edward was much taller and imposing than the captain, being six foot four inches, but the battle-hardened marine didn't appear fazed. An amused smile flitted across his face and then disappeared. "A fine ship you have for a pirate."

  "We're not pirates!" Henry yelled from behind Edward.

  "I did not ask you, powder-monkey."

  Edward turned to Henry. "Henry, I can handle this." Henry pursed his mouth and did his best to be quiet.

  "Your man says you aren't pirates, yet you bear the mark of them on your sail. You own a high-class warship, and clearly are not marines or any merchants I've ever seen. If you aren't pirates, and this ship isn't stolen, then I must be the son of Davy Jones himself." The captain's men laughed.

  "I told you we're not pirates!" cried Henry. "We're whalers. This is a big misunderstanding. Edward paid for this ship fair and square!"

  The commander signaled to one of his men. The marine walked over and smashed the butt of his musket into Henry's face, sending him crumpling to the deck.

  Henry! Edward struggled to resist the impulse to rush over and help his friend, and fought hard to control his anger and panic. God damn him! How will we get out of this?

  "Order your men to take him to your infirmary," the captain commanded.

  Edward turned to some of his crew. "You heard him, take him downstairs." Then he met the captain's eyes. "Despite my friend's outburst, his word is true. We are no pirates and I purchased this vessel fairly."

  "Can you produce papers of sale or title of ownership to prove your man's claim?"

  Edward felt his stomach turn. "No. The previous owner forgot to entrust the papers to me."

  "Of course he did." The captain glanced over his
shoulder at his men and smiled.

  "It has only been a few weeks since the sale, if you just return with us to Badobos I'm sure we can find him to corroborate my story. His name is Benjamin Hornigold."

  At the mention of Hornigold's name, the marine captain's eyes widened and he missed a step. "Do you take me for a fool?"

  Edward was taken aback and tried to stammer out a response, but couldn't think of any.

  "I am Captain Isaac Smith of the Royal Navy, and I am hereby taking control of this vessel. You will all be brought to Clarendon Parish where you will be jailed until your trial."

  "Trial! We haven't done anything! We're simple whalers. Look at our equipment, look at us, we're not pirates. My name is Edward Thatch. I was raised in Badobos by the Hughes family. You can ask them about it." Edward hated to flash his adopted family's name around, but he was overcome with desperation.

  "Save it, pirate. We're onto your deception. It's obvious you were damaged during the storm and wanted to try talking your way out of a fight."

  "Are you even listening? We live on Badobos a few days southwest of here. I just bought this ship and I didn't even know about the sail."

  "Enough excuses. Your story is as vaporous as the deed you seem to have misplaced. I'm claiming your ship as my own. You will be tried and executed in a court of law, which is more than you deserve."

  Edward's mind raced. Executed? I can't die, not now, not like this!

  Captain Smith turned and motioned for two of his men, who walked over to Edward, sheathing their weapons and pulling out shackles. He noticed a pistol on the captain's belt. We're not pirates. We don't deserve to be treated like this! I won't let him have his way!

  Edward put Smith in a choke hold, grabbed his gun from its holster, and pointed it at his temple. "Nobody move or I shoot!"

  The marines all aimed their firearms at Edward as his crew watched on in horror. "Drop your weapons, you fools!" commanded Smith. "Do as he says."

  He walked backwards with Smith in tow, his elbow tight around the captain's neck. He felt like he should be breathing rapidly, but his breaths were steady, calm almost.