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valarltdOf his first sea battle, Adlai would later remember little save noise, confusion and smoke. Collins had issued him a pair of pistols, powder and shot, along with a quick kiss and orders to hold his post before the door of the Captain’s cabin. Each time the cannon roared, he wanted to cover his ears and scream. He did not. He was a man, not a child to be terrified of noise.
He’d done his best, standing as chaos raged about him. He watched Tobias run a man through with a cutlass and mild-tempered Deering swearing like a screeching parrot and reloading his musket as fast as he could fire it. Stephan strode through the din and press, a giant black demon who found it easiest simply to seize one enemy head in each hand and smash them together like the rocks that martyred his namesake. Even gentle Will, the cook’s assistant who was no more than fourteen, wielded a vicious-looking cleaver in defense of the galley.
A large man gave a wicked sneer and headed for Adlai, his cutlass raised. With shaking hands, Adlai raised the flintlock and fired. The man fell back, his sneer obliterated. Adlai reloaded the pistol, his hands still shaking badly enough to drop two balls and half his powder.
“You’ll need those,” Deering said, folding the lost shots into his hand while Adlai could do no more than stand and stare at the dead man at his feet. “We’re winning.” Deering vanished back into the fray.
Adlai realized he was dead now. Had they been taken before today, he might have been sold as part of the property, the proceeds going to the Crown. Now he had killed a free man. For a slave there was no greater crime. It was now the duty of every free man to bring him to justice.
The one-eyed black man was almost upon him, so lost was he in his own thoughts. He realized his danger with bare moments to spare and fired again. The man went down, blood a scarlet fountain from his thigh, sending the deck awash.
Adlai swallowed hard. He would not be sick. He was not a sheltered white woman to swoon at the sight of blood, not even as much as this. He had overseen the deaths of endless poultry and hogs. He told himself this was not so different; a man had less blood than a cow.
He leaned against the door and reloaded the flintlock pistol, his hands steadier but his knees refusing to bear him. He simply wanted the battle to be over. The stink of blood and burnt powder and death overwhelmed him. The rioting hell of color under the burning sun made him wish for his hated hat, forgotten below in the cool dimness of Collins’s cabin.
The fighting ended slowly. The crew of the Golden Horizon swarmed over the French ship, mopping up the last pockets of resistance. Collins found Adlai. Seeing his shaking, Collins drew him into an embrace.
“Go to the cabin. Have a drink and wash. I’ll make sure you get your share.”
Adlai did not cling as he longed to do, weeping like a child and refusing to let go. He simply returned the embrace and let Collins go after a moment. “Thank you, Master Captain.”
“Wash up. Don’t worry about water,” Collins said.
Adlai nodded, his face still closed. He went below and drew the water into the basin to wash. He knew he should be above, keeping records of the loot, but at the moment, was glad to have the quiet.
Kestrel is available here:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=831
He’d done his best, standing as chaos raged about him. He watched Tobias run a man through with a cutlass and mild-tempered Deering swearing like a screeching parrot and reloading his musket as fast as he could fire it. Stephan strode through the din and press, a giant black demon who found it easiest simply to seize one enemy head in each hand and smash them together like the rocks that martyred his namesake. Even gentle Will, the cook’s assistant who was no more than fourteen, wielded a vicious-looking cleaver in defense of the galley.
A large man gave a wicked sneer and headed for Adlai, his cutlass raised. With shaking hands, Adlai raised the flintlock and fired. The man fell back, his sneer obliterated. Adlai reloaded the pistol, his hands still shaking badly enough to drop two balls and half his powder.
“You’ll need those,” Deering said, folding the lost shots into his hand while Adlai could do no more than stand and stare at the dead man at his feet. “We’re winning.” Deering vanished back into the fray.
Adlai realized he was dead now. Had they been taken before today, he might have been sold as part of the property, the proceeds going to the Crown. Now he had killed a free man. For a slave there was no greater crime. It was now the duty of every free man to bring him to justice.
The one-eyed black man was almost upon him, so lost was he in his own thoughts. He realized his danger with bare moments to spare and fired again. The man went down, blood a scarlet fountain from his thigh, sending the deck awash.
Adlai swallowed hard. He would not be sick. He was not a sheltered white woman to swoon at the sight of blood, not even as much as this. He had overseen the deaths of endless poultry and hogs. He told himself this was not so different; a man had less blood than a cow.
He leaned against the door and reloaded the flintlock pistol, his hands steadier but his knees refusing to bear him. He simply wanted the battle to be over. The stink of blood and burnt powder and death overwhelmed him. The rioting hell of color under the burning sun made him wish for his hated hat, forgotten below in the cool dimness of Collins’s cabin.
The fighting ended slowly. The crew of the Golden Horizon swarmed over the French ship, mopping up the last pockets of resistance. Collins found Adlai. Seeing his shaking, Collins drew him into an embrace.
“Go to the cabin. Have a drink and wash. I’ll make sure you get your share.”
Adlai did not cling as he longed to do, weeping like a child and refusing to let go. He simply returned the embrace and let Collins go after a moment. “Thank you, Master Captain.”
“Wash up. Don’t worry about water,” Collins said.
Adlai nodded, his face still closed. He went below and drew the water into the basin to wash. He knew he should be above, keeping records of the loot, but at the moment, was glad to have the quiet.
Kestrel is available here:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=831
