To Slight the Jacket Blue. Bronwyn Sciance
ship is a sort of mother to the crew. She'll keep us safe, just like Mother does."
"But what's that one called?" Elsie repeated impatiently.
Sam answered, "That's the Victoria. Will sails on her."
"You called me?"
Ned looked up at the lad he had once considered worthy of respect. At sixteen he was more the man than ever, and he had recently gained a small promotion. "Hello, Will," he said without enthusiasm.
Will looked Sam and Ned up and down. "Off to sea at last, are you? Come to join the Victoria's crew, hey?"
"No, Will, I'm for the Josephine and Ned's to sail on the Maryanne," Sam answered, his voice colder than Ned's had been. "We don't hold with the Victoria's cargo."
Will shrugged. Four years of servitude had changed him considerably, and Ned was none too sure he liked the changes. "It's not so bad, when you get used to it. There's good money to be made with this trade. And at least it's safe."
Sam scowled. "Safe?" he practically spat. "Safe from what?"
"From pirates, lad."
Elsie's eyes widened. "Pirates!"
Dick looked trustingly up at his brother. "Pirates wouldn't dare attack a ship if they knew you were on it, Ned. And even if they did, you could fight them all off, right?"
Ned didn't choose to disillusion his brother. "Right."
Will gave a snort of derisive laughter. "Suit yourselves. I'm off to get my men ready. Perhaps I'll see you back in port in two years."
"Perhaps," Ned said cautiously. "Godspeed, Will."
He held out his hand, but Will strode off without another word, barking orders as he went. Sam turned to Ned. "Well, I'm on a two-year course myself. The Josephine's bound for the Caribbean and the sugarcane trade. What of you?"
Ned had listened carefully to the men of the Maryanne's crew as they had calculated the route. "I think we'll be making the circuit of England in a half-year's time. But that certainly means I'll be pulling in here two years from now."
Sam held out his hand. "Meet you at the Purple Falcon, our table, two years from now, then. Safe sailing and Godspeed, Ned."
"And you, Sam." Ned shook his friend's hand. "I'll be looking forward to it."
"All hands on deck!" came a faint cry.
Sam turned. "That's my master. I'd best go."
"I should go as well." Ned glanced at the ship that was to be his home.
"I don't want you to go!" Elsie wailed, throwing her arms around Ned.
"Oh, Elsie, it's all right." Ned knelt to take her in his arms. "I'll write you often and often. You can use them to practice your letters."
"You too, Sam," Elsie insisted, looking over Ned's shoulder.
Sam laughed. "I'll write as often as I can, but remember, I shall be farther away. Still, I'll keep a diary for you to read on my return."
"Me, too?" Dick asked hopefully.
"Of course," Sam promised. "I wouldn't leave you out."
The cry came again. Ned and Sam kissed Elsie, rumpled Dick's hair, and embraced swiftly before heading off to their ships. As Ned reached the top of the gangplank, he turned to look a little wistfully at the Josephine, which was beginning to cast off its lines. He said a soft prayer to keep his dear friend safe, and as an afterthought, added a prayer for himself.
Chapter Three
Sam paused in his labors, partly for the pain in his shoulder that seemed to get worse when he resented his lot in life and partly for the feeling of being watched. No one on deck was paying him any mind, but he spotted a shape on the distant horizon. Something about it made him feel a bit uneasy.
"Robin," he called. His one friend aboard the ship, a young man recently raised from midshipman, paused and looked back at him. "Robin, what's that out there?"
Robin squinted. "Looks to be a ship."
"A ship?" The captain was on hand almost immediately. Sam quickly looked down and resumed scrubbing the deck, but Captain Overwood seized him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him upwards. Sam couldn't help but tremble slightly as the captain pulled him closer. "Where, boy?"
Sam made himself calm down and pointed straight ahead. "Th-there, Cap'n."
"What device?"
Sam shielded his eyes. "My eyes aren't too good at this distance, sir. But it looks like the Union Jack."
"Sail closer, Mr. Bathan," Captain Overwood ordered the man now on his right. "She may be in need of assistance."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"And as for you, Jameson..." The captain squinted at Sam. "You raised alarm for one of His Majesty's vessels. Punishment, you are confined to my cabin until further notice. Go there immediately."
Robin and Sam exchanged glances, and then the captain gave Sam a shove towards the cabin. He stumbled, recovered, and headed into the small cabin.
"And don't come out until I say otherwise!" he bellowed after the lad.
Sam sat on the low wooden box set aside for him, trying to stop himself from shaking. Any minute now, the captain would come in and tell him that he would have to do extra tasks to repay the offence, and that he might as well start right away, and then...
There seemed to be a lot of shouting going on outside the cabin. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the captain bellow, "Jameson! On the double!"
Sam hurried out the door to find the captain pointing upward. "You're the best at climbing the rigging. Get up there and tell me what device is on that ship!"
Bewildered, Sam complied. About halfway up, he stopped to look. The flag that flew from the approaching ship was definitely not the Union Jack, nor was it the same flag that had been flying before.
Cupping a hand around his mouth, Sam yelled down, "Red field with a white skull, a flying glass, and a cutlass, Cap'n!"
"Cap'n, red means no mercy," the quartermaster called. "We should surrender."
"Surrender?" the captain roared. "Wid' a full hold of cargo? Never! Men, arm yourselves, prepare to fight!"
"Is that wise?" Sam asked Robin as he touched the deck. To his mild surprise, he wasn't afraid of the pirates.
"Not unless you've a death wish," the young quartermaster replied dryly. "This device I'm not familiar with, but it's a red flag. You and I both know that won't be good. If we're lucky, we might manage to win the fight."
"And if we're unlucky?" Sam inquired, taking a sword from the weapons cache.
"If we're unlucky, lad, pray it ends swiftly."
Chapter Four
Two years at sea was probably the equal of ten years on dry land for experience, but Ned wouldn't have traded his time on the Maryanne for anything. That he put back into Bristol every six months probably helped that, he had to admit, but still, there had been times he had almost wished he could have stayed at sea forever. Now, though, Ned was glad for the port call, for it would enable him to see his friend for the first time in two years.
As soon as the last box was offloaded to the dock, Ned saluted his captain. "Permission to go ashore, sir?"
"Granted," the captain answered, handing over the boy's wage chit. "Be back tomorrow to collect what's owing to you."
Ned nodded, then hurried down the gangplank. Stopping a passing dockworker–a lad with whom he had once played–he inquired, "Any other ships docked in this week?"
"The Victoria was here yesterday," the worker answered. "Left