Chapter 114: Here It Comes
Word reached them aboard a schooner driving so hard through the water that her own bow wave nearly swallowed the bowsprit.
After that, the fleet lost every last trace of calm.
Anchors came up trailing mud and weed before the capstans had enough hands to turn them. Somewhere else, a sailor stumbled over his own rail while fastening his breeches, more concerned with missing the battle than preserving his dignity.
A dozen some captains did their best to look as though they’d expected this moment for days, even while every one of them rushed just as desperately as the rest.
James let the Rose pull ahead of the pack while the Fortune matched her course, close enough that the two ships could trade words without raising their voices.
Hidden against the green shoreline of Cuba, six more ships waited in silence. Together they were worth more money, and promised more trouble, than half the harbor at Nassau.
Farther north, scattered among the cays of the Great Bahama Bank, dozens of sloops and schooners lay in wait, a swarm no one aboard the convoy would be expecting.
That was the heart of the plan.
James turned it over in his mind one last time, the way a gambler looks over his cards after the wagers are already on the table. Nothing remained except waiting to see how badly the other man would lose.
He hadn’t chosen this stretch of water for the scenery. A captain chose where he fought just as carefully as he chose where he sat to gamble.
Here the wind would stay at his back before either fleet finished trimming sail. The Falmouth would have to fight for every yard she gained and James could choose exactly when to close the distance and exactly when to break away.
No man o’ war enjoyed fighting on another man’s terms.
The idea to send only the Rose and the Fortune into plain sight wasn’t how James normally worked. A good chunk of his reputation had come from appearing before a target realized there was anything worth watching for, as it had been in Mobile, as it had been near the Florida coast.
This time, the opposite was more important.
He wanted to be seen.
Two ships sailing straight to a stranger’s front door and knocking loudly enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
Either the Falmouth would come out herself to settle the matter, or she’d pull the convoy close around her and send her escort to deal with the nuisance snapping at her heels.
James had placed his wager on the second choice. A King’s captain responsible for a fortune in cargo wouldn’t risk his own flagship to chase two pirates when he had frigates to spare. Every frigate sent after James was one less watching the merchant ships it had been sworn to protect.
That was where everyone else entered the game.
Six waiting ships near Cuba, and a swarm spread across the Bank, would descend on the convoy the moment its real teeth were drawn elsewhere. Once that happened, the merchants would get frightened and think first of their own ships and their own cargoes.
Formation would unravel, leaving nothing but isolated prizes waiting to be taken one by one.
James and the Fortune had only one real task. They needed to keep that fat old vixen busy enough chewing on the pair of them that she never had time to protect the fleet she was sworn to safeguard.
The entire scheme depended on misdirection and chaos.
James felt that was far more amusing than it probably deserved. He’d wagered ships on worse odds before, and so far the Rose had rewarded every one of those bets.
🏴 [FLEET OVERVIEW]
Bloody Rose — Flagship
Type : Brigantine
Size : Large for her class
Role : Line Combatant
Armament : 28 Broadside Cannons, 2 Mortars
Perks : [The Rose’s Luck], [True Shot], [War-Rigged Masts], [Starboard Hull Reinforcement]
Captain : James Calloway
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Black Fortune — Screen
Type : Corvette
Size : Average for her class
Role : Line Combatant
Armament : 18 Broadside Cannons
Captain : Stede Bonnet
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Revenge — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Large for her class
Role : Bombardier / Skirmisher
Armament : 16 Broadside Guns, 1 Mortar
Captain : Edward Thatch
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Marianne — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Average for her class
Role : Skirmisher
Armament : 14 Broadside Guns
Captain : Samuel Bellamy
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Barsheba — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Average for her class
Role : Skirmisher
Armament : 12 Broadside Guns
Captain : Henry Jennings
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Cormorant — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Small for her class
Role : Skirmisher
Armament : 8 Broadside Guns
Captain : Charles Vane
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Postillion — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Average for her class
Role : Skirmisher
Armament : 10 Broadside Guns
Captain : Olivier Levasseur
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Providence — Allied Vessel
Type : Sloop
Size : Average for her class
Role : Skirmisher
Armament : 10 Broadside Guns
Captain : Josiah Burgess
Status : Underway, Combat Ready
Auxiliary Swarm
Dozens of sloops and schooners. Various armaments and captains
James spotted the homeward fleet shortly after noon. The sun had climbed high enough to burn away the last of the morning haze, leaving the sea clear enough for a man to see exactly what he had invited upon himself.
The HMS Falmouth topsails appeared first, pale smears against a horizon turned silver by the heat. A careless eye might have mistaken them for clouds, but James had been searching for them since morning.
More canvas followed.
Then, slowly enough that he lowered the spyglass once simply to steady himself before raising it again, the hull emerged from the horizon.
Two complete rows of gunports stretched along her sides, all closed for now. James had counted enough broadsides to know what waited behind that many silent ports.
She rested on the sea like a wealthy old duchess who had never hurried for a carriage because the carriage had always waited for her instead.
Looking at her, James couldn’t decide whether he admired her more or wanted to drive a mortar shell straight through her broad belly.
Her screen frigates emerged moments later. James watched them longer than he’d expected.
In his mind, frigates had always been sleeker, lower ships, carrying their guns along a single deck, just as he remembered from his old life. These looked broader and heavier, each with two decks, like a smaller version of the Falmouth herself.
The lower gunports sat so close to the water they looked fit for oars in a dead calm.
They weren’t graceful ships. That didn’t make them any less dangerous.
The convoy finally appeared behind them. More than twenty merchantmen stretched across the water, their hulls riding low beneath cargoes of sugar, rum, and enough wealth to ransom London twice over.
It was a magnificent sight.
A moment later the topsails backed, and the whole formation began to slow as someone aboard realized what two lone ships sailing directly toward them actually meant.
Behind the warships, the merchants tightened their formation. Captains who had been sailing comfortably apart now crowded beneath the protection of the escort’s guns like frightened chicks hurrying beneath a hen.
"There she goes."
Farrow kept his spyglass to his eye. "Look at the size o’ them lower ports, Cap’n. She won’t need good aim to hurt us. She’ll only need to hit somethin’."
"Cheerful as ever, Farrow."
"I like knowin’ what’s liable to kill me. Seems only polite."
Farther forward, Kit let out a whoop, "Would ye look at the size of her! Never seen nothin’ so big in all me life, Cap’n. Well, except maybe me own ambition!"
"Yer ambition’s about to get us all killed, lad."
"Aye, but what a way to go!"
James breathed in the salt breeze and laughed. There was no finer day than one where both sides were absolutely convinced they were about to win.
He threw out an arm toward the mast.
"Let’s save the poor bastards the trouble o’ wonderin’ who we are. Run the colors!"
He didn’t need to repeat the order.
The black flag climbed the Rose’s mast a heartbeat later. The grinning skull and crimson rose snapped open in the wind, clear enough that any lookout aboard that grand old duchess could recognize it from a mile away and know exactly what kind of afternoon awaited them.
The convoy finished closing ranks.
Just as James had hoped, the frigates separated from the formation and turned toward the two ships reckless enough, or mad enough, to come calling.
It wasn’t a plan anymore.
It was happening.